Typhoon Mawar

Typhoon Mawar was the first major typhoon for all of my children. My two older children who are in their teens, had experienced Typhoon Mangkhut in 2018 and Typhoon Dolphin in 2015. Both of these typhoons were damaging to Guam, but not in the same way that Mawar was last month.

For my two smaller children, Lulai and Makåhna, this was their first typhoon of any type. And what a first typhoon it was for both of them. Lulai who will be turning 2 in a few months and Makåhna who wasn’t yet 3 weeks old when the storm hit.

I am grateful that we weathered the typhoon well, no major injuries other than diaper and heat rashes. Two weeks later we still didn't have electricity and our cellphone service and data remains intermittent. But thankfully we had water albeit low at times, throughout.

My partner Desiree and I have both been through major typhoons, with catastrophic destruction and disruption. Mawar was our first as parents. Looking back, it was a dramatically different experience. I was on island for Typhoon Russ, Yuri, Omar and Pongsona. I experienced damaging typhoons as a child and also as an adult. I remember fear, anticipation and I also remember a lot of downtime.

But for Typhoon Mawar, with four kids in the house as the storm was approaching, I was constantly filled with anxiety. I remembered during Pongsona, water starting to pour into my room through the aircon and eventually the wind reaching such a peak it broke my window. My room flooded. I was a graduate student in Micronesian Studies then at UOG and I ended up losing the tape recordings of several dozen Chamoru elders that I had been interviewing for my masters thesis.

I held the same fears this time that I would lose the boxes of research that I’ve accumulated over the years. Or that my Chamoru record collection might be damaged. I have hundreds of hard to find Guam books, I hoped they would be ok. But even as water did end up entering the house at multiple places during Mawar and we spent hours trying to stop the flooding, the fear of losing those things paled in comparison to the fear of any of the children being hurt.

When we finally gave up on trying to stop the water entering the house at different points and all laid down in the living room to rest, I still found it difficult. My mind was troubled by the idea of the shutters failing, and how I could get the kids to safety. Even when finally sleeping, I woke up several times when the winds reached a peak and the house was shaking instinctively lunging towards the sleeping children. Desiree had the same thought and we agreed on which baby we were gonna grab and take to safety if a room became unsafe.  

When I was younger after a storm, being safe wasn’t enough. I would complain about lack of power, lack of aircon, lack of internet. Life is still tough without those things, but gratitude for us being safe is something that has sustained me, even two weeks into this recovery.  

Both Sumåhi and Akli’e’ spent the first week post-Mawar complaining about uncharged devices, unplayable videos games and the heat and I tell them “båsta enao na klasen kuentos,” stop that kind of talk. Each time I remind them about how Chamorus have endured worst than this and we still struggle and survive.

Today Sumåhi retorted “Ti un siesiente este minaipe?” You don’t feel this heat?

My response. “Hunggan, hu gof siesiente todu en siesiente. Lao i mås dångkolo’ yan impottånte na sinientete-ku på’go agradesimento yan minagof, sa’ manlå’la’la’ yan mansåsafo’ hit.” (Yes, I feel everything you are feeling. But the biggest and most important thing I feel right now is appreciation and happiness that we are all still alive and safe.”)

Akli’e’ rolled his eyes and said “tåhdong na mensåhi enao, bai hu like iyo-mu comment gi YouTube, lao tåya’ elektrisidåt yan tåya’ wifi.” (That is a deep message, I will like your comment on YouTube, but there’s no power and wifi).

Sumåhi was sitting down on the couch, sweating and barely moving and said “Ti siña hu roll i atadok-hu sa’ dimasiao maipe yu’ ya todu i fuetså-ku humuhuyong kalang masahalom.” (I can’t roll my eyes because I am way too hot and all my energy is coming out as sweat.”)

I couldn’t help but laugh at these two jokesters. We will struggle, but surely we will survive. Tumaiguini ha’.