Returning at last to 9/11, I am not proposing that a Chamorro reaction to the 9/11 would be any different from an American one or indifferent to the tragedy. Notions of identity do not mean absolute or even limited uniqueness. America seems to feel that hard-working behavior is their traditional domain. Lao esta ta tungo’ na manmampos bumachachu I manaina-ta siha lokkue’, and so do many other cultures.
I am not saying that a Chamorro response to the attack would be radically different. I am not focusing on the anthropological or socio-political aspects. But I do know this; to respond to 9/11 as a Chamorro means to find value in your own response, in what your culture, the Chamorro culture recommends. And of course that response is one of sadness, of compassion or empathy, all the right things. But if you are to respond as an American, you just continue the terrible colonial cycle of abuse and exploitation which has been in effect for more than a century. Responding as an American means you have been duped, you have been fooled by the propaganda, taken in by the stirring orations and speeches designed to illicit an instinctive response for unity and acceptance.
You can see the cost of this “duping” or “responding as Americans,” in the way the Pearl Harbor analogy was articulated in discourse on Guam. The media in the United States used Pearl Harbor as an emotional parallel, calling the September 11th attack, “another day of infamy,” both attacks threatening the US homefront (even though Hawaii was a colony then, not really a part of the US). On Guam the response was no different, the analogy met with no criticism, qualification or exception, despite the fact that Guam should of responded differently. Pearl Harbor, and the entire World War II experience are vastly different for a Chamorro, then for your average statesider. For a Chamorro on Guam, Pearl Harbor was the prelude for two and a half years of Japanese oppression and then American destruction. A Chamorro representation of destruction, bombing, of Pearl Harbor itself, must be different, then your typical flag waving, Never Forget bumper sticker using, American disposable rhetoric patriot.
There are those who would say that Chamorro and American are the same thing. Or that one is political the other ethnic. All I can respond to that is that you must of left a lot behind, forgotten much to have successfully reconciled that in your mind.
Para I mamamaila, guaha chathinasso-ku, lao guaha esperansa lokkue’.
Despite the tone of my paper, I am not as depressed or as worried as it may seem. History can be a depressing and enraging thing, yet it can also be enlightening at the same time. For me, after reading, knowing and internalizing a history of the Chamorro people from 4,000 years to the present, I cannot see how anyone could doubt the authenticity, tenacity and vitality of our culture (myself included). Chamorros have gone through so much and someone maintained a sense of identity, of sense of themselves. It boggles my mind how much credit we give to the US in our daily lives. How much credit we give to others when we are deserving of so much more!
In the September 15th PDN, Tony Sanchez writes a very moving and yet puzzling editorial, “Tuesday, Sept. 11th, changed our world, won’t be forgotten.” The gist is typical patriotic propaganda, irrational calls for unity, inspiring speeches in order to dispel dissent. “So what do we do? We do what America and Guam have always done. We pull together. We do our jobs better. We raise our children better. We help our neighbor more. We argue less; we compromise more. We face the stark reality of the world we live in with eyes wide open. We cannot afford to be divisive. Not today.” And later Sanchez goes on to say that although we do not vote in national elections are governments and our people (us and the Americans) are one and the same. The disconcerting part for me of this article is the fact that America or our relationship with America is a vital part of us raising our children better, doing our jobs better. For Sanchez the whole of our improvement and progress is attached to America and our unity with them.
Who survived near extinction at the hands of Spanish guns and disease? Who maintained a semblance of continuity in the face of cultural vaporization by Spanish colonialism? Who survived the horrors of Japanese occupation and brutality? Why does America receive so much credit for our survival and endurance? Why is altruism, compassion, caring and kindness attributed to a country which could have cared less about our fates? All the value, all the inspiration you need can be found within these shores, or within the relative who has left it behind. Within our own families lie all the worth any Chamorro should want or need.
As I write this American imperialism is at “war” with the world around it. I am constantly reminded of our parents’ and grandparents’ war not too long ago. I think of Liberation Day, and what it celebrates, the re-occupation of Guam in 1944 by American troops. I think of all the patriotism, mixed and confused messages associated with that holiday. I hope the next time a Chamorro gets a sudden burst of patriotism and feels the urge to grab an American flag they think first, about what it truly represents. Liberation Day is where I think a re-focusing of Chamorro identity must begin, so much of what we feel and how we think today depends on how we interpret that event.
The PDN often places on its front page, a small American flag and beneath it the foreboding proclamation that “THESE COLORS DON’T RUN.”
Put fabot, todu I Chamorro siha, fanhassuyi este…
Those colors ran like little school girls in 1941. Those colors made sure that all their relatives and military were evacuated before the Japanese attacked. They also made sure that only haole dependents were evacuated, any non-haoles though still military dependents had to stay behind. They were also very careful not prepare the Chamorros for an invasion or an attack. And when they finally ran back to Guam, on their way to Tokyo, they made sure to bomb it continuously for three weeks, not really caring what they hit, and pleasantly surprised to find later that there were still people alive on the island after that barrage.
After September 11th, across the country people called for us all never to forget. Never forget this grave injustice which had been committed against the greatest nation in the world. I call on Chamorros as well, never forget the grave injustices which have been committed against us and this culture, that I feel is the greatest culture in the world (I admit, I’m biased). No matter how much money the Federal Government gives us, no matter how many times people say “my fellow Americans,” or how many free miniature American flags are distributed, Never forget.
Munga maleffa. I mamamaila gi I lina’la-ta depende gi hafa ta hahasso ni’ I manmaloffan siha.