Never Say...

Goodbye.

It's been a belief of mine, for some time now, that 'goodbye' has to it a ring of finality. To say goodbye means, I shall never see you again. I don't think I've said goodbye to anyone for a long time. It was something that I'd picked up from a friend, back when I was in high school. This friend, when parting from anyone, would always say, 'Later'. When I asked him why, his response was 'I don't like goodbyes'.

I don't say goodbye anymore because I believe it's too final. Will I not see you tomorrow or some time in the future? When I leave a place, I don't say goodbye to the people I know because I truly believe that I will see them again, one day.

As a Catholic, I believe that even in death, we do not say goodbye. The belief in life after death is instilled deep in my roots. Death is the beginning of a journey to the final judgement. On the last day, we shall all meet again. So, goodbye, to me, is an inappropriate parting gesture. If I let myself believe that I will never see or speak with you again, what is the point of saying I believe in eternal life? If there's nothing to look forward to, why keep going?

So, if I fail to say 'Goodbye' at the end of a conversation, don't think I'm being rude. Instead, know that I look forward to meeting you again one day. Take it as a compliment.

Nan Bai

Well, that's what her nieces and nephews call her. To us, her grandchildren, she's known as Grandma. To my siblings and I, she is Grandma Dededo - just to differentiate between her and our Grandma Barrigada. Her name is Oliva Taijeron and she was born and raised on this beautiful island. When you ask her how old she is, she proudly replies, 'I am 78-years-old!'. We, her family, know that this means, 'I am 87-years-old!'.

She's my only living grandmother. The lady that raised my mother and who we always saw as a strong and able woman. For as long as I can remember, my grandmother has always done everything for herself. These days, she's not as able as she used to be. She walks with a cane and looks as thought she could break if you hugged her too tightly. But, she's a sharp woman!

My grandmother never thought of herself as an intelligent woman. When we were growing up, we would go with my mom to take Grandma to the banks, to the lawyers, where ever it was that she needed to go. When she would fill out her applications or deposit forms at the bank, she would feebly take it to the teller and shyly admit the reason behind her sloppy handwriting. She would apologize saying, 'I had to leave school at the age of seven. I am sorry if you can not read it but, maybe my grand daughter can help you.' It was never something I questioned her about or that I was ashamed of, really.

You see, the period in which my grandmother was raised was a difficult time. Not only for the people of Guam, but for society as a whole. On the island, child rearing was always held in high regard. But, prenatal care was almost non-existent. My great grandmother - my Nana - died in the delivery room whilst giving birth to her sixth child. Unfortunately, so did the baby. My grandmother, being the eldest of her siblings, had to quit school at the age of seven in order to raise the rest of the children. My Tata was not a man from money and could not afford to hire someone to do this for him. One of the children had to be adopted out to another family in order to get the care she needed. But, that put aside, my grandmother still had her plate full.

After raising her 3 siblings, she met my grandfather. He was a mechanic working for the military. He knew the importance of frugality and teaching his children the value of family and humility. Most importantly, to my grandmother, he knew how to take care of her. Together, they had 12 children (three of them died in infancy). Together, they survived natural disasters. They survived a war. Most importantly, my grandmother survived burying six of her children.

Looking back at the life they lived, I see now how it was difficult. Growing up, I never really valued this struggle. I always thought, 'My grandmother had it easy!'. I never knew that she struggled with money. I never knew that she had to raise her siblings. From what I had learned, she never had a headache, she never had a pain or a struggle that she couldn't bear. I thought she was sheltered. I thought she always had it all.

My grandmother is a woman that I see as beautiful and strong. She has a strong head on her shoulders. Today, she is very business oriented and knows how to plan for the future. Coming from a background like hers, she always needs an explanation before handing out money for assistance. She has come a long way from being that 7-year-old girl who had to quit school. Now, I understand exactly where my mother gets her smarts. Now, I can look at my grandmother and see the life she lived and the life that she has made for her children.

To the world, my grandmother looks like a little old lady who can't hold her own. To me, I look at her and see so much! I see how time has worn her from the strong and able woman that she used to be in to a fragile little lady with white hair and shaky legs. I see her radiant smile that she uses to mask the pain of losing a mother, a father, a husband, and six children. I see the life weathered face and hands of a woman who has worked hard to get here. I see the woman who my mother will become.

The woman that I dream of becoming.

The Language

First, let me say that I take great pride in the fact that I come from a people whose language is like music. Now, I've heard the expression 'His/Her voice was like music to my ears'. But, personally speaking, the Chamorro language takes this expression to new heights. In the language of the people from Guam, we change things, we alter words, so that they are easy on the ears. Unless we are angry, our language is very sing song. Heck! Even when we're angry, there's a certain harmony to our words.

When I was in college, I studied the Chamorro language and the culture of our people. The greatest emphasis was put on how we alter words to make a phrase harmonious. If you put the word 'i' (pronounced 'ē') in front of a word, you would usually have to chance one of the vowels in said word so that it is phonetically appealing. I will use a part of my blog from yesterday as an example. 'I kettura' (the culture). Kettura, in it's original form is 'kutura'. Since we put the 'I' in front of it, we have to change the 'u' to an 'e' so that the word flows. There's so much more that I learned in the classes that I took and it all helped me to understand my language a bit more.

When I was growing up, I always enjoyed sitting with my elders and listening to them speak our language. I was one of the few that took advantage of this time and used it to actually learn how to speak. To socialize with our elders was something that was frowned upon, in most cases. You were not to listen in on any conversation that had nothing to do with you and you definitely did not have the right to speak up about whatever was being discussed. But, I was always one who went against the flow of things. This is one time that I can say that I am thankful for my rebellious nature!

Unfortunately, I am guilty of not putting the knowledge which I possess to good use. I knew how to speak my language. When I was living in the states, I would speak it in order to have private conversations. When I came back home, I realized that I have very limited knowledge of the language. What knowledge I had had dwindled to almost nonexistence. I could still sit and listen and understand what's being said. But, when participating in the conversation, I would stumble and sometimes would have to ask other for assistance in finding the words. Living back on the island is allowing me to be exposed to the language more often. I am slowly starting to pick it back up and put it to use.

In a recent conversation, I asked a friend if there was an English word to describe the feeling that you get when you see someone who is so cute or adorable that you would just like to squeeze them and (for lack of a better word) eat them up! We weren't able to come up with a word that even closely resembles the feeling. In Chamorro, this feeling is described as 'maggodai'. To say the phrase 'Gof na' maggodai' would be appropriate when someone is in the act of making you want to just squeeze the heck out of them.

Another word that we use is 'mahalang'. It is a word that is used to describe a feeling similar to that over 'homesickness' or 'lovesick'... A yearning... But, it goes so much deeper that just those words. It is a deep feeling of emptiness or loss that you can not describe in English.

Yet another is 'mungge' (I'm sure I'm spelling this totally wrong. But, hey... one step at a time!). Mungge' can be used simply to describe something that is appealing to the taste buds, this definition is simple. But, when you use it to describe a person, it is a lot deeper than 'yummy' or 'good'. As my friend Andrew put it, munnge' is 'a devouring likeness to fuse with that which is great (and then "gof" added in front...hell that's a need for confession)'. When you say 'I na minannge'!', it's almost like saying... excuse the expression... I'd really like to get her in the sack!

There are so many words like this scattered throughout the Chamorro language. I'm sure that other languages are similar. To me, English lacks in the ability to describe feelings or things beyond the physical realm. These words and phrases, to me, are little gems that you stumble upon when learning or using a language other than English.

In my opinion, language is an important part of cultural identity. It establishes a deeper connection between a person and the place and people that they come from. If your native tongue is a language other than English, I highly recommend that you learn enough of it to understand a conversation of not to speak. It's a beautiful skill to possess and it will give you a sense of accomplishment. It will help you to understand your background a little more than you would by just knowing the history. If anything, it will give you a way of talking about people without them knowing *wink*.

Biba Mes Chamorro

This month, on Guam, is Mes Chamorro. The month that we celebrate the Chamorro language and culture. Every year, in March, schools and businesses around the island showcase Chamorro activities. You can find anything from traditional island dance to language competitions to huge fiestas!

I remember growing up on Guam, we only celebrated Chamorro week. It was something that we looked forward to in school because it gave us an excuse to get out of classes and experience the local treats. We would have coconut frond weaving demonstrations, coconut candy making, coconut husking and grating competitions. If it had anything to do with being Chamorro, it was done - and done well!

In high school, the competitions went as far as hut building! This was always the highlight of the week. About a month before the competitions, different organizations within the school would register for said competition. One week before the competition was slated to be judged, the groups would get together after school to plan and construct their structures. On the Friday of Chamorro week, school would let out at around 10am and everyone would head to the field for a huge fiesta and for the judging and festivities. It was always something that we anticipated.

Rather than drone on about the competition, I will just say that it was always quite an event! People would show up in their traditional(Spanish era) mestisas and there would be dancing, eating, and games of all sorts. It was something that made us proud to be Chamorro. I believe it played a big role in the pride I have in being from Guam, today! It showed the hospitality of the Chamorro people in that we welcomed people from all backgrounds in to our festivities and showed them the acceptance that you hear so much about when someone talks about people from Guam. Most of all, it gave us a chance to learn about our culture through experience.

Today, I am not sure to what extent this is celebrated. I know that there are still local exhibits in the island businesses. There are specials run by restaurants highlighting the local food and drink. In schools, there are spirit days where the school children can wear their island garb. I believe they have eliminated the hut competition and school wide fiesta due to some unfortunate incidents that arose some years ago. Unfortunately, the times are catching up on our island youth and there are a lot of outside influences that alter the way locals react to certain situations. But, it is a sign of growth.

What we, as an island culture, have to realize is this; if we are to remain proud of our heritage, we must keep it alive. There is nothing wrong with change. But, we have to remain aware of our roots and make our ancestors proud. The land, the culture, and the language that they fought so hard to keep intact are definitely something that we should hold dear to our hearts. It is part of who we are and it connects us, as a people.

Go out, experience our island... It is a beautiful, God given gift that we don't use to it's full potential. Learn the language of our people and use it in your daily life. I am guilty of letting it go by the wayside. But, when I hear it or speak it myself, I realize its beauty. Be proud of our people. Our ancestors were a race that showed great hospitality and love for others. We can grow and change as much as we please... But, we will always need to love one another and show great respect for all people. Ina'fa'maolek is a custom that we have inherited from long ago. Simply put, it means to make better. To live in harmony. It is a custom that we should keep alive in our lives and put in to practice daily. Help your brother... help a friend in need... If you need to, compromise.

I can definitely say, I am proud to be a Chamorro! I will live this month as I have lived my whole life... Not ashamed at all of the culture in which I was raised! Bai hu usa i lenguahita sa debi ta protehi i lenguahi, i kettura, yan i tano'ta! Biba taotao Guahan! Biba mes Chamorro!

Rude Awakening

For the past two days, I've been shaken awake by the phone ringing at 6am! Now, normally, this does not happen. Everyone knows that 6am is an ungodly hour to make a phone call! But, apparently, my mom's sister - my Nina - does not understand this.

Yesterday, when she called, we didn't answer the phone. This is the normal response to the phone ringing at that time. So, rather than hanging up and trying to ring back in a couple of hours, she decides to leave a long message that we can all hear from the comfort of our beds. Her message? Well, it was an appeal for us to move our family to Washington state. According to her, there is so much more to see and do in Washington and we should leave Guam in order to experience this. How there's so much more opportunity there for our family to work and live.

This morning, was an instant replay of yesterday. Only, this time, mom answered the phone. So, I only heard one side of a really loud conversation. My mom politely excused herself from it after about five minutes of shouting in to the phone to a near deaf sister. From then on, the phone rang and rang and rang... All different people. But, still... It's too damned early to be ringing before 8am, people!

Anyway... here's my take on the whole option to move to Washington. People, I've done it. I've left this tiny island paradise to experience the life that the 'states' has to offer. You know what? It's not that great! The mainland has the same problems that we do. The economy is just as bad. The job market is pretty much non-existent. So, what we have when we move is all the same problems that we had living here only without the support system that we have readily available on this island.

To me, the mainland is OK to visit. But, my home is on this island. My family is here. My life. I'm sure if something pressing were to come up, I would be able to leave and relocate. But, for now, this island has a lot to offer me and dag nab it, I'm going to take it! There are some people who move away and find that it's exactly what they need. For me, moving away made me realize that I'm lucky to live here now.

So, to my family in the states... Please keep the rude awakenings to a minimum. The whole family has experienced the life that Washington has to offer and I think that if we decided that we liked it, we would be back here! We shall meet again one day... Until that day, please don't try to push your ultra westernized lifestyle on a family that loves the island style of life. Thank you.

Snow storm?

Try it island style! Of course, there would be less snow and quite a bit more flying corrugated tin and coconuts. But, who's counting, eh?

With the recent snow storms that have been ravaging the eastern United States and most of the U.K., we, as islanders, can't help but to scoff a little bit. While, in most places, snow storms mean being stuck at home or having to dredge through a couple of feet of snow, it all only lasts for a couple of days and you very rarely suffer the loss of electricity. If you live in the city or in suburbia, you do not fully experience the wrath of mother nature. There are snow plows that come through to clean your streets. Electricity might cut out for an hour or two. You might have to shovel your way from your front door to the sidewalk.

I remember living in RedNeck Valley, Oregon in the winter a few years ago. That was the closest thing I'd ever experienced to living on Guam during a super typhoon. Our power went out for two days. Seeing as we lived in the hills, beyond city limits, our water came from a well that was dug in the back yard and run by a water pump. We couldn't shower for two days. When it got too cold, we threw a couple of logs in the fireplace and got cozy under the sheets. But, it made me realize that, regardless of the cabin fever, it was nothing compared to the aftermath of a storm on the island.

Just a couple of days ago, I read an article in the local paper that was written by a 'displaced' Chamorro. She had experienced her first snow storm in the east coast and, like myself, thought that it held nothing against living on Guam during a storm. You see, in the winter, when the power goes out, your food does not rot. When the winds blow, you do not have to worry that your roof will fly away or that a coconut might come at your head at 150mph. When the water goes out, you can melt the ice/snow for washing and, if it is clean, you can drink it.

Seeing the way that most people who are confronted by a snow storm react to their situation, it makes me so proud to be from this little island in the middle of no where. People do not hear of our struggles in the aftermath of a typhoon or a super typhoon. Do you know why? It is because we are used to it. We have learned from our past. We understand that the situation is only temporary and that if we pull together as a community, we shall prevail. We may whine when our power goes out for a short period. But, we find something to do to keep ourselves entertained and eventually learn to joke about it. When our food starts to defrost, how do we solve the problem? We call the family and friends over and have a barbecue and tell stories.

The resilience of the Chamorro people is something for which I will always have great pride. The ability of our people to pull together in difficult times and to work as a community is something that I will be able to pass on to my children. The love that we show for our neighbor is something that other communities around the world may never understand. If you have ever met anyone from our island, you know exactly what I am talking about. Not to sound cocky... But, our people leave an impression on the world ;)

*** RedNeck Valley, Oregon is not really a city... But, if it was, you could find it next to Podunk, Oregon(more commonly know as BFE).

Ash Wednesday

And so begins the season of Lent in the Catholic church. A season of fasting. A season of reflection. A season of sacrifice. A time of alms-giving and preparation. As Catholics, we are called to practice self denial in preparation for the resurrection of Jesus Christ. For, what more could we do to show our appreciation for the price He paid?

I remember, growing up on Guam, Lent was always something that we would dread. We couldn't play outside after 6pm because the babuin Kuaresma - Lenten pig - would punish us. We had to tread carefully because we knew that our parents were watching our every move and come Easter Sunday, if we had done anything reproachable, we would become very intimate with the belts our father wore during the week(and we're not talking about those weak, thin, dress belts). Lent was the time of year where we couldn't eat meat on Fridays because that was what we were told.

As I grew older, fasting became a bit deeper than all this. We were told to look at our lives and pick something to 'give up' for forty days. Some people would choose junk food, soda, swearing. Any behaviors or habits that we saw as vices. I, often, would give up swearing as it was something that I would do constantly as an adolescent. The Holy Week regiment grew more strict, expanding from the boundaries of playing outside to the practice of turning the television and the radios off all week unless you happened to be watching or listening to something related to the sacrifice of Jesus.

Then, as a very young adult, the Lenten fast was something that I did out of habit. It was something I grew up participating in and therefore it was tradition. I didn't think twice about it until a little later when I started to rebel against the teaching of the church. I thought that I could show them where to stick it! After all, who really needed to fast if they were as healthy as a horse or not preparing for some medical procedure or in to that alternative detoxing crap? Certainly not me!

In recent years, I have rekindled my faith. I have opened my heart to the tradition of the church. Rather than scoffing at it, I choose to research and better understand the history of my religion. I will not say that my faith is as developed as it can be. But, I can say that, with the help of family and friends, of my parish priest and faith formators, I am starting to grow in the knowledge of what the season really means.

This year, in the forty days leading up to Easter, I plan to read more about the faith I claim to believe in. I am making sacrifices that I feel will help me to grow in my spirituality and in my ability to become a better person. This year, coming out of the Lenten fast, I will understand why I do it and I will be able to explain to those of my friends who think it is insane exactly why I choose to observe the season. I will be able to love them even when they laugh and point at the 'stupidity' in which I choose to partake. Most importantly, I will be able to transmit the tradition to the children I may have in the future.

For now, I'm looking forward to the season and what it means to me. I eagerly await the Easter season when I, along with my brothers and sisters in the faith, will rejoice as the stone is rolled away and the tomb is found empty.