NO REST FOR THE AWAKE - MINAGAHET CHAMORRO

  I've pasted below a column written by Chamoru writer and filmmaker Dan Ho, that he penned by the Guam Daily post in 2021 to both commemorative and criticize Indigenous Peoples Day in 2021. The title alone gives this away,  "It's un-Indigenous to celebrated Indigenous Peoples Day," and it is one reason why even though Dan Ho doesn't contribute much to these types of conversations anymore, at least not in local newspapers or media, this article still circulates this time of year because of the catchy, polemical title.  Given how some things have shifted, discursively, narratively, culturally, rhetorically in different societies across the world, to provide more possibility for indigenous peoples, and that the fact that more and more people each year are now ditching Columbus Day in favor of Indigenous Peoples is emblematic of this. This shift, like so many, doesn't mean that indigenous people are sovereign, it doesn't mean that land has been given back, it

More than a decade ago, a statue was unveiled in Hagåtña for the late Angel L.G. Santos in the park which bears his name in memoriam.  It has been more than two decades since the passing of this iconic Chamoru figure. It has always intrigued me the way Santos morphed in meaning locally – from a patriotic, military-serving young Chamoru, to a loincloth-wearing taimamahlao chattaotao activist, to politician and defender of human rights, to visage on stickers, T-shirts and symbol of Chamoru strength and pride. Angel Santos and Nasion Chamoru worked hard, in particular in the 1990s, to push to the forefront of the island’s consciousness issues such as Chamoru rights, especially around political status and land.  One of their biggest successes is not the sinahi-necklace-wearing that has become so commonplace, but rather their protest efforts in getting the Chamorro Land Trust implemented and formalized.  Debates over the changing of the rules last year for the Chamorro Land Trus

Last month, my family launched our latest bilingual Chamoru-English children’s book titled “An Tåya’ Elektrisidåt” or “When There’s No Electricity.” In the book, three Chamoru children, based on three of my own kids, struggle with boredom after a typhoon has devastated Guam, leaving them without electricity and without data for their cellphones. With some helpful guidance from their nånan biha (grandmother) they are reminded that there are still plenty of ways to have fun on Guam, even without their iPads or video games. Across the book, the children learn that through their island’s natural beauty, cultural and community, there are still plenty of ways to enjoy life. They participate in a village-wide chongka competition, they go hunting for duendes, they enjoy the beauty of a Guam sunset. They hear stories of ghosts and spirits and taotaomo’na. My personal favorite is when they say the rosary for their devices that are dead and no longer have any charge. While many people have

Before we say “Adios” to August, let us look back at this month and how important it has been in the past for Guam, Chamoru and Marianas history. When I first started working as curator at the Guam Museum in 2021, I was given some of the late Tony Palomo’s notes on Guam history. In addition to being a Guam war survivor, an author, a journalist, an elected leader and a historian, Siñot Palomo had worked as the administrator for the Guam Museum towards the end of his life. Part of his duties at the museum was to publish a regular series in the Pacific Daily News highlighting “This Month in Guam History.” It is my honor as the curator of the Guam Museum to continue this tradition. Let’s look at some of the events that happened in Guam and the Marianas in the past during the month of August. ************** 343 years ago: In August 1681, Don Antonio de Saravia was appointed governor of the Marianas, and during the following month, he appointed Chamorus to the positions of assi

Chris Perez Howard was born in 1940 to Mariquita Aguon Perez and Edward Neal Howard. When the Japanese invaded Guam the following year, his father, a US Navy sailor, was taken away as a prisoner of war, leaving his mother and family to care for Chris and his younger sister Helen. By the war's end, Mariquita would, like hundreds of other Chamorus during the occupation, become a victim of Japanese brutality. As a result, Chris would have few memories of her and soon after his father’s return to Guam at the end of the war, would be taken away from Guam and not return for almost two decades.  In the 1970s, Chris found his way back to his island home and begin to conduct research into the life and death of his mother. He pored through military archives and also interviewed family and friends, all of which helped him put together a literary portrait of her as an intelligent and resilient Chamoru woman.  In 1982 he published a biography for her titled, “Mariquita: A Tragedy of Gua

Todu i taotao-ta på'go ma tungo' i pusision-ña i sihek, ya ma tungo' na esta sen hassan i paluma. Guaha mås ki un siento ha' na sihek tetehan gi mundo lao manlå'la'la' yan mañåsaga todu gi halom gigao siha gi fanggå'ga'an pat otro taiguihi na lugåt siha.  Put este na råson, esta ti tahdong i tiningo'-ta put i sihek, sa' para i meggaiña na Chamorun på'go tåya' nai ta ripåra siha manlibre gi halomtåno'. Lao estague un lihende put i sihek, i taotao ma sångan gi åntes na tiempo put i sihek, ni' umeksplikåkayi hit put i kustumbre-ña yan i bonito na pusision-ña i paluma.  Estague i lihende: Gi åntes guåntes na tiempo, eståba un taklalo' na biha ni' sumåsaga na maisa gi halomtåno'. Mampos banidosa yan presonida este na biha. Gof ya-ña mamåhan guaguan na magågu, esta bubula todu i aparadot siha gi halom i dangkolo' na kastiyu-ña. Sesso di manusa kulot åsut na bestidu, åpa’ka’ na tapes yan kulot kåhet na pañelu.

  Humånao si Lulai (si Chuguangguang) para i Fangga’ga’an San Diego para i primet na biahi gi nigapña. Gof ya-ña!     Manli’e’ familian hiarafa (giraffe) minetras manmamomokkat yan mamboboka. Gof annakko' i aga'ga'-ñiha!   Manli’e’ gago’ na hippo, umåsso gi inai. Ilek-ña si Lulai, “ayu na yommok na crocodile!” Hu admimite na ti meggai tiningo’-ña i neni put i dos.   Manli’e’ katdumen meerkats taiguihi ginen i mubi i Rai Leon (Lion King). Gigon ha hungok na gaige si Timon i atungo’ Simba, inalululala lumi’e’. Gof dångkolo’ i chinalek-ña anai hu kantåyi gui’ “Dångkolo’ i daggån-ña” gi i tunadan “Hakuna Matata.”     Manli’e’ yan este i mas ya-ña un elefånte, i na’ån-ña si Shaba.    Gof dångkolo’ yan makalelu i elefånte! Ilek-ña si Lulai, “Anakko i gui’eng-ña!” Hu sangåni gui’, hunggan, adahi sa’ kada umachem kalang un kañon. Pangpang! Anai ha hungok este, ha tåmpe i talanga'-ña, gof kinute!   Gi todu, un gefpågo yan didide’ manengheng na talo’åni gi fangga’ga’an.    

Every day I have a conversation about Guam and its political status and decolonization. At least once a week though, I have a conversation about decolonization or political status that crosses territorial lines.  It might be between Guam and any of the other territories or colonies of the United States.  It might be just a comparative discussion about where each territory is at. It might be a conversation undertaken to talk about how one territory should learn the lessons that others have.  For example, Puerto Rico being so much larger than the other territories, it is common to see the Independence movement there as looming large, and to feel that there is much other territories can learn from Puerto Rican independence activists about growing or sustaining their own movements.  But the visibility of the movement, especially given the larger population of Puerto Ricans in general, can sometimes obscure the fact that within Puerto Rico, the dynamics are much more complicated.  Within th

  Trumitriste i pilan Sumåsahi gi sasahnge na inina   Manånanges i puti’on I kandet-ñiha manmilalak påpa’ Mana’abak gi hinanao-ñiha para i tano’ Manenekkon i flores   Ma tatitiyi papa’ i lipes hinemhom para i puengi Manu’u’u i petlas-ñiha para i lago’-ñiha   Todu i mundo gi oriyå-hu kumeketu Nina’keketu nu i minanengheng   I minanengheng humuyong sa’ chago’go’ i minaipe, taigue i guaifen i guinaiya-ku guini gi este na tåno’   Sa’ este i primet na puengi-ku guini sin hågu

  Ya-hu este na litråtu. Lao guaha råson siha, ni' muna'ti ya-hu lokkue'.    I posted this image a few months ago on the Guam Museum's social media as well as my own.    It shows a Guam classroom in the late 1940s. Manggagaige todu, i ma'estra yan i estudiante siha gi halom un kuatto. Tumotohge i ma'estra gi me'nan i pisåra. Esta matuge' guihi i leksion. Uno na hobensita tumotohge mientras i otro manmata'ta'chong. Håfa ilelek-ña este na påtgon? Kao magacha' gui'? Pat kao gof osgon na estudiante ya ha kehåhayi i otro estudiante lol. Hekkua'.   Regardless of whatever is happening in the image itself, I have mixed feelings about this picture, reasons I really like it and reasons it makes me feel uneasy. I like this picture because it shows Chamorus just a few years after the end of the Japanese occupation, life is returning to normal. Schools have been built or rebuilt. Education which was paused or disrupted for two to three years becau

  Prior to World War II, Sumay was the second largest village of Guam and because of its location near Apra Harbor, was very economically important as a hub for the island in terms of communications and trade. Because of this status, the families with ties there had a great deal of pride in their village identity and community.   The Trans-Pacific Cable Company, which laid the first telegraph wire across the Pacific, set up its station in the village in 1903. Sumay was also the landing site for the China Clipper from Pan American Airways, which built a hotel there in 1935.    Most of the first bombs that fell on Guam in the Japanese attack on the island on December 8th, 1941 were dropped on Sumay because of its strategic importance. The US Marine Barracks and tanks from Standard Oil were both hit. Within days after the Japanese invasion, all residents were evicted.    The bombardment and subsequent re-invasion of the island by US forces in July 1944 almost completely destroyed Sumay. A