(Stade
is really
addicted to italics)
What this is, is a mere simplification of the class distinctions and
interactions of the past two hundred years of social culture on Guam. The
italicized words have been employed to create a lexicon which can easily be
explained, and can provide simple discourse in terms of class interaction and
agency. But, these labels are too stringently applied and leave little room for
reality and history of Guam. There are several reasons for this, which merely
scratch the surface of the issue.
First, the terminology of high and low is rarely used by the manamko’, or the old
people, of today. The references of high and low are both used as insults. One
does not create more reverence in a listener well versed in Chamorro pragmatic
ethnography, by using the term, Manakilo’.
Again, they are specific terms, not local, and hardly regional. It is inferred
that all Manakilo’ , or people can
be referred to as such live in Hagatna, but this is simply not true, as wealthy,
important, socially active, land owning families lived all over the island. The
word Manakilo’ is
more a direct title, in previous times it was thrown at someone, whereas
noawadays, under different meanings which I will refer to, it is sometimes a net
cast at people.
The
term implies more of a loss, rather than a gain, as most external academics
would claim. The status it implies is not a gain. The status is attached the
word, and cannot be transferred, but the loss intimated to is one of
perspective, of place. This stigma is completely cognizant amongst those who are
considered to be Manakilo’, which is why
it is rare that a person will admit to being “high.”
An excellent example to help illustrate the origins of the italics, can
be found in the exploits of Juan Mala, who in a way was half Chamorro folk hero,
half prankster. His stories were handed down over the generations, and the most
prominent ones were recorded and printed by Herman Constenable. However several
myriad strains still persist in the oral culture, yet to be written down.
In
it Juan Mala plays tricks and deceives those of the Spanish aristocracy, as well
as the government officials. The Spanish and the mestizo, aristocrats are unwitting dupes to his pranks, which may seem silly to
us, but are on the contrary quite possible. On one occasion, Juan has stolen the
clothes of a noble, and walks around Hagatna, with his nose so high, and his
walk so uptight, that everyone assumes that he is of Noble Spanish birth. So
secure is his disguise that he asks the Spanish Governor of Guam who gallops by
on his horse, if he can use the animal. The Governor seeing that Juan was
possessing of the manner of a noble man, his clothes and his attitude, he sees
no reason why he shouldn’t trust Juan. Thus, Juan rides off into the sunset,
with the horse, and the Governor never sees him again. As a good postscript,
Juan’s tales continue as soon as the governor then, is replaced, and new one
comes to island. Because then Juan can come out of hiding with a new slate, and
new adventures can ensue.
The
early inclinations of the concept of “highness,” are seen here, as it is
associated not only with nobility, but with foolishness. It is almost too
convenient for myself that the words employed in Chamorros, have such
appropriate correlations in English. As Juan’s nose being high in the air, and
his appearance of highness, is what deceived the Spanish into believing him to
be of sufficient social height.
The
loss of perspective comes with an additional loss, and that is the person’s,
height in relation to the land beneath him. The Manakpappa’
are described as such, because they
possess a connection to the land that the “Manakilo’”
are not supposed to have. The high
people, is a term derived from those emulated the Spanish to the point of loss
of ties and contact, with the land. They are supposed to be the people who live
in Hagatna, as the Spanish did, and not work the land, as the Spanish did not.
But this only works up to a certain point in that the majority of families in
Hagatna, even at the onset of World War II, with the exception of mixed white,
mixed Japanese, and Japanese families, were still farmers.
The
status of living in Hagatna did not afford oneself or one’s family a better
life, but only required that you travel further to your lancho,
or ranch, and that as a husband you were often separated from your family, for
most of the week. Hagatna only became that great bustling metropolis on the
weekends, when relatives from other regions of the island would trek to the
center to visit family and friends, or to attend service at the Cathedral. Also,
Hagatna was the center of disease on the island, as men from ships would come
there under both American and Spanish times for residence or for rabble rousing.
Of
course in any society, this is not a rule, or idea set in stone. A qualitative
review of all families on Guam, will reveal cracks in statements, fissures, or
holes which seem to disprove everything. I fear I need to qualify myself before
I get carried away with myself. Some families with absolutely no ties to land
are referred to as “Manakpappa,”
as are many families with
complete ties to the working of the land, “Manakilo.” I
am not trying to lay down absolute, but only reveal the best possible truth with
regards to the lexicon which Stade sets up, plays in for awhile, and then leaves
to languish and waste, in the fact that he never even tried to finish the
foundation, or finish the framing, or even pour the concrete. What he leaves is
a shell, a skeleton of ideas, propped up by italicized
words, and enough gossip to kill a habladora. It is a cruel form his makes, reminiscent of the pala
pala houses on Guam, made for fiestas and quick shelter. But Stade may have a
shoddy frame going, but he has forgotten the nipa roof, and so his
shelter is useless rain or shine.
The
implications of this are much deeper then social stratifications or social
discursive limitations or inferences, but reaches back to indigenous roots, and
philosophies, which are too often ignored, or reformatted to fit Western boxes
and notches. For example, from the film and novel, Once
Were Warriors, which is a sad and
desperate portrait of a family of Maori descent who is attempting to live in a
bustling Australian metropolis, and has cut most ties to their indigenous roots
and links, leaving them to float hopelessly in the urban and modern world. The
subsequent drama, of spiritual limbo in the plot, which is illustrated through
family violence, suicide and youth crime, illuminates the larger issues, which
are ones of cultural limbo. It is one belief of the Maori culture that self
harmony is attained through harmony with one’s environment, but more
importantly their place in the universe.
For
the characters of the film, it was regaining their ties and links to their Maori
family, and accepting their heritage and culture. One Guam, the terminology of
the Manak’kilo’ follows thought, in that people become so by turning away from the land.
The sea and ocean, which were so important to the pre-contact, as well as post
contact peoples, created an in effect “soul wound,” or a “soul pull,”
which manifested in the form of a discursive, as well as biological bond with
the land. In response to the governance of external forces, as well as external
personalities, Chamorros were pushed to the land under the rule of the Spanish
as well as the Japanese. Thus, the discourse, and the Meta discourse which
played off the Chamorro daisen
was explicitly linked to the soil, which gave him and his family food. It was Tinaotao-niha,
their bond. An important point is that it was not the land which held them,
itself, but the idea that they were of the land, they were married to the land.
This ideology still exists today, in less forms, as the American rule of Guam,
has made explicit efforts to get people away from the land, and many have even
left the island, for so-called better lives in the Mainland U.S. But now the
bond is not strong, and can even be called non-existent, but persists in
shallow, shadowed and impure forms, most notably, the naming of the Chamorro
people as the Taotao Tano’. This name
is the most, if not one of the most authentic names with regards to the
indigenous peoples here. Debates rage over the origin of the word
“Chamorro,” and this Stade, does give a good run down of. Whether it is
actually a pre-contact word, or a Spanish word, or of mixed parentage.
Regardless, the term “taotao tano’,
which means literally, “people of the land” is a uncontested word in
terms of Chamorro authenticity, and one which speaks volumes in this forum, in
terms of people and their relationship to the land.
With
the forced migration of Chamorros following the Wars on Guam, between Spanish
and the natives, land became more important to the people, as they traveled
miles to visit family lands, and in time, it was not the land that was
important, but the respect, and close relationship one had with land in general,
not just your own lands. Towards the end of the 19th century on Guam,
most of the land was held by a few dozen families, and the Church holding the
largest piece, as land un-bequeathed often went to his or her parish. Therefore,
this tie to the land, continued even when the legal right was not there. As
Francisco Baza Leon Guerrero testified before the United States Congress in
1937, there was little ownership, people worked on other people’s lands. As
long as there were no conflicts or thievery, there was little need for legal
issues, or land issues. The communal bonds of sharing and reciprocity from
earlier Chamorro cultures were thus in a deferred form, continued and
persistent.
More over, the use of this term, in Stade’s work, as well as others, isn’t consistent with history, or discourse. The arguments made for the families he includes, as well as the families he excludes, are not consistent.
The
emphasis of the urban, is one misleading factor, in that it polarizes issues,
and creates the dividing line of class, at the outskirts of Hagatna. This
ignores history, in that although Hagatna was the largest village, and the only
one considered to be a city, Guam had three metropolises, three major cities.
Hagatna, Inalahan, and Umatak. The Leon Guerrero family of Inalahan, is one such
family which checkers this issue. The Leon Guerrero family, whose roots in
Inalahan go back to the beginning of the 19th century, were large
land holders, a wealthy affluent family, one of several in the region. They held
far more land then the Calvo’s, or the Bordayu’s, yet because of their
concentration in the southern portion of the island, rather than the center,
they are not considered by Stade to be of significant caliber, to be ‘high.”
Arguments
can also be made for Umatak as being a Guamanian metropolis, in that twice a
year it became the focus for trade and government. The Governor had a home there
and in anticipation the arrival of the next galleon he would move his residence
there.
In
terms of family, arguments for increased status could be made for the Taitano
family, who had huge properties all over the island before the war, and even
some in San Antonio, Hagatna; and the Artero family, who had more land than just
about anyone on island before the war. There are more families with these
distinctions, some of whom resided in Hagatna, some not.
It
is an interesting discrepancy, that Artero does not count as Manakilo’
, when Bordayu does, when both
families had similar family histories. Their patriarchs came to Guam at similar
times, Baltazar Bordallo at the end of the 19th century, Pascaul
Artero at the beginning of the 20th century. Both were treated with
respect, by the Chamorro people, both learned the language, and assimilated into
the culture, becoming important men. The largest difference is, in the land.
Artero’s fortune was in the vast amounts of land he held in the north, and his
herds of cattle, whereas Bordayu made his fortune in Import, and later the
family became more prominent through
political positions. Stade makes statements to the effect that Manakilo’
status is given through ownership of huge tracts of land, and residence
of Hagatna. But the ideas are not consistent, the rule does not hold, as
Stade’s Manakilo’ naming
is based more on hearsay rather than history.
In addition the term Manakilo’ is also used differently in different eras. In previous times, it was used in the sense I have just demonstrated, as a social insult for those who had lost their ties to their land. However at present, the term is associated with “height” in regards not to land, but to the law. The high people are now those who think themselves above the law, above legal limitations. Therefore from recent events on Guam, being a high person, has nothing to do with your family lineage, but more to do with your greed and corruption.
Take for example, the recent events surrounding the corruption case of Sonny Shelton. Shelton was the director of Parks and Recreation on Guam, and he was convicted recently of wire fraud and other charges, which could lead to substantial prison time. The most common usage of the term today, refers to people such as Shelton, who think they are higher than the law, not whether they come from Hagatna, or were educated at Father Duenas, the elitist Catholic Boys School on Guam.
For
all these reasons, and more which perhaps slipped my mind, Stade’s use of Manakilo’ and Manggi Hagatna
as almost interchangeable terms isn’t accurate or appropriate. Living in
Hagatna was not the magical ribbon of aristocracy that he would have you
believe. Because of this, the same is parallel for the terms of Manakpappa’
and Manggi Sengsong.
To
begin with, for more than a century, most likely dating back to the early 19th
century on island, Hagatna has been divided into districts. The Chamorro
preference for geography based on small land marked regions, or earmarked and
nicknamed zones of reference, rather than arbitrary municipalities, still
persists in the older generations, although it is slowly disappearing.
It
is rare that an older Chamorro, a manamko’
will respond to a question with regards to his family origin, by saying
that they lived in Hagatna, and if the answer is Hagatna, then it was most
likely prompted by their assumption that you have no idea where Togai is. Hagatna, in Guamanian proportions was a metropolis, and people
rarely referred to themselves as gi
Hagatna, because they were not.
They were instead gi Togai, gi San
Antonio, San Nicolas, Hulale, Aniguak,
or any of the other districts.
But
a more important point than this, is that the phrase gi
Hagatna, and gi Sengsong, are both
considered to be insulting by the oldest Chamorros. This is an attitude which
was common amongst the Chamorros of the generation before the eldest one at
present. The preposition gi,
has often been associated with an insult of ones roots and intelligence. It
implies a backwards, or villager status, even at times when used for Hagatna.
A
good example of this comes form the experiences of local playwright Pedro
Onedera, who in doing research for a play talked to a biha,
or old woman in a community center. Pedro initiated chit chat, the usual
questions, and from her information he asked her if she was from Yo’na.
“Gi Ye’na hao?” were his exact words, and the response came in the form of scalding hot
coffee being dumped over him. The biha
then proceeded to lecture him on proper respect, especially when talking to
elders. Her suggestion the next time he wished to know where a person was from,
was that he use the more respectful and much older form of, “taotao
Yo’na hao?” Which translates are you a person from Yo’na, or from this village?
(His
assumptions are very incomplete.)
There are critical problems with Stade’s approach, as his approach is
from the outside, and he uses terms, taken out of context, and out of history as
his guide. And thus guides himself through Guam with a blank map, which
ultimately he fills in himself, with Neo-Marxist garbage, and therefore he is
lead conveniently to his chosen destination, which lies far away from Guam, but
some in the Centre of Academic Discourse of the West.
This exploitation of Guam is most egregious in the incomplete class
analysis Stade provides throughout the book, with the words I have so viciously
attempted to explicate and elaborate upon in the previous pages. The incomplete
analysis leaves a bad taste in anyone’s mouth, saying two mutually
contradictory things. First, in plain English text that Chamorros had an upper
class, which effects social change and economic power on the island. And second,
in lingering historical fact, which is not stated as clearly, but more left to
the imagination, that Chamorros did not have any such power before 1950.
The division of island life into two classes, ignores the third class,
which for hundreds of years controlled all socio-economic, political, and
international change on Guam, the colonials, or I
taotao ni’ Manggubetno, the
people who govern.
These were not of course, the best people on Guam, nor the most
respected. But they did have the most power, the most information with regards
to the world outside Guam and in this vein they should of received special
treatment in the system of class interaction, but they are markedly absent.
There has always been a clash between the most powerful class on Guam, as
opposed to the highest class of Chamorros. This has existed since the arrival of
Padre’ Diego San Vitores on Guam in 1668. San Vitores, in the game of saving
souls, was in it for numbers, and didn’t care whatever social order or class
system existed. The Chamorros of the day however, were divided into classes, two
high, one low, and asked San Vitores to only give salvation, and the kingdom of
heaven to only the highest class, the Matua.
But San Vitores, wanting to procure a big number to send back home, resisted and
baptized any and all.
Similar incidents took place at the arrival of the US as the governing
body of Guam. There was a reciprocal antagonism which existed between the “Manakilo’” then, and
the Naval Government which controlled Guam.
It was first felt in policies which were designed early on to wrest
economic control of the few individuals on island. It came also in the form of
ignorance of upper class demands for American citizenship. It culminating in the
creating of the Guam Assembly, which comprised people elected from the villages
around the island. The Assembly was nothing more than the proverbial little
voice that one hears inside their head and constantly ignores. It had no powers
other than to advise the Governor, who always respectfully ignored their ideas,
requests and suggestions.
In a close parallel to San Vitores arrival, lower families were offered
the salvation educational, rather than salvation spiritual. This further upset
the so-called grip the “manakilo’” families held over Guam, which the Navy was trying to break. Which
in a way was hypocritical in that businesses run by Navy people, or Navy
dependents, and often times Americans, were given discounts on license fees,
giving many of them an economic advantage over Chamorro businesses. For example,
the alcohol permit for a Navy run bar, was $25, whereas any other business had
to pay the full fee of $200, for a year, an astronomical sum at the time, when
people could expect to make a few dollars for an entire month’s work.
The arrival of mass education on Guam is something Stade intimates to as being part of the downfall of the high families on island. It allowed lower families to gain the necessary critical mental facilities to say their parts, speak their own minds, and take part in the Legislative processes. But the problem with this is that the strength of these families was never as assured as a research would of hoped. The fact that Stade refers to them as Manakilo’ assumes that part of them is Chamorro, and prior to the American arrival, and even for the generation afterwards, the “soul pull” of the land remained strong. Hagatna was still a city of farmers, and often the city would be hardly bustling during the Vacation weeks of the year, because whole families would then live at the lancho, to take advantage of the break in the children’s schooling. And as we can all guess, the life of a farmer, is hardly an occupation worthy of high status, yet this contradiction is either not know, or not dealt with.
A qualitative genealogy of many of the families will reveal, this pull to the land. For example, the name De Leon on Guam, comes from Jose De Leon, who was the Chief Steward to the last Spanish Governors. He came from Mexico, more than a decade before the United States took over. He married a young Chamorro girl, named Lauriana, and they had several kids. Jose and Lauriana, remained in Hagatna, their lives secured because of his wealth. However all there kids lived in the outer regions of the island, particularly in the north, away from Hagatna, as farmers, not aristocrats.
Most families, possess stories like these in which people return to the land. A famous example is of Guillermo Sablan Flores, who born in 1898, was a friend to the Manakilo’ of the island. He often drank beer with the Bordallos, the Calvos, the Martinezs. He was well known, and all his friends, became Assembly Men in the first Congress on Guam. His father had been Manakilo’, a landowner, though not a rich man, whose land supported dozens of families. Guillermo had no such aspirations, for height in his life, he lived out his quiet life on the farm, his wife with him, but their children being raised by relatives in Hagatna. His father by the way, was not from Hagatna either, but from Yigu in the north.
The idea of Manakilo’ and Manakpappa’ are not are stringent as Marx or Stade would like. People did not belong to one or the other in most instances, but either crossed them, as with the children of De Leon, or were crossed by, as in the case of Guillermo.
The idea of these class structures is more of a retrospective view. It is
placing a limited, and primarily foreign system on Guam’s system, and assuming
that it fits. But the tears show, there are too many parts that don’t fit.
Stade’s idea of high, and his intimation of the Manakilo’
as being the highest doesn’t fit
for the reasons mentioned before, and here because of the fact that the gap
between high and low in this system isn’t as far as any outside academic would
want. The two classes, are really part of the same class of people, Chamorros,
just another middle class as far as I
taotao ni’ manggubetno were
concerned.
The problem which Stade first falls victim to is to make the assumption
that social change, and social consciousness comes from being of a higher class.
He falls into the idea which was not Foucault’s but one he gladly propagated,
that it is the upper 1%, the brain trust, of any nation which controls it
future, and acts as its conscience. The problem with Guam, and most places if
one researches, is that this does not hold true, economics and education do not
tie into nationalism, patriotism, or desire for social change, but only tie into
the acceptable standards for discourse to be made and accepted by those agents
who wish to make such attempts. The trap that Stade has fallen into, is to take
economics and class, as a guiding rod, when it is scarcely true, on Guam, and
most likely in other regions. Instead of creating a divisions of high and low,
based on italicized words which he misuses over and over, Stade should of
approached the problem of class and society as it existed. First in terms of
greater control over the reciprocal networks, under the Spanish rule, and then
through social activism under American subjugation.
A
better division, but one which does not come with pre-packaged italics, would be
to delineate two new groups of Chamorros.
First, those who attempted to work with the system of Government, which during
Spanish times, was very few and far between, but under the American flag, was
dozens of individuals who were both or affluent and poor backgrounds. And those
who were largely ignored by the government, and ignored it just as well in
return. But unfortunately in terms of italics, these do not pack the same
concise punch.
I taotao ni’ mangga’mumumu:
Those who like to fight.
I taotao ni’ para u ma po’lo ya:
The people who just let it go.
I
am sure most anthropologists would prefer something less cumbersome, and
incidentally there are thousands of ways, that the two concepts can be
translating depending on whether you are serious, want to be sarcastic, joke, or
what idioms or cultural metaphors you will employ.
The
fact of the matter is, is that Manakilo'
and Manakpappa aren’t
as on point as Stade believes. They were created for different reasons (although
class subdivisions existed of course, and even before Spanish interventions),
rather than to create an “Us v. Them,” social compact. As mentioned before,
they term Manakilo’ while indirectly commenting on what was perhaps one’s fortune, or
wealth, was primarily directed to personality, attitude, the positions of
one’s nose and thinking in terms of the ground beneath them. It was later
assumed, though incorrectly that it was more strictly a product of one’s
economic standing. But any research into so called, Manakilo’ families will
produce so conflicted and contradicted study, because it shifted constantly,
between generations, within the space of a year. It would be held by some, who
chose a lifestyle and a way of thinking and not be inherited by another, because
of their differing hermeneutics. The dynasties to which Stade commonly refers to
are retrospective, they are historiography, not history.