Otro Na Klassen Beteranu (yan Chalan 6)

A picture of Route 6 in 1945 under American Occupation

* I want to thank Selina Onedera for helping me to edit this entry for accuracy. With more details surrounding her father's experience, I was able to come in and make adjustments to the entry, providing readers with an even more detailed explanation of what happened.

Everyone expects me to write about the recent victory shared by the Guam Preservation Trust, The National Historic Trust, and We are Guahan against the US Department of Defense. I don’t feel like writing about that today (lao gof magof yu’ para ennao lokkue). It seems as if everyone is sending words of thanks and congratulations to the individuals who spear headed the law suit (and rightly so). I’m beyond proud and grateful for them. I just can’t seem to focus on them right now. My head is preoccupied with someone else. I want to write about someone who isn’t celebrated as often as he should be. Someone who has been fighting for a very long time to preserve the integrity of CHamoru culture, history, arts, and language. There are quite a few people like him on our island, people who have always maintained that our unique identities are worth fighting for.

Last night, I went to the village meeting regarding the CSS hosted by We are Guahan. I learned quite a bit. They set up little stations regarding specific issues and made it possible for residents to participate in small, intimate discussions regarding the CSS and its content. After I visited each station, I ran into my friend, Selina. Selina is the daughter of Siñot Peter Onedera. Most of the people on island know who Siñot is. He has been around for years, teaching generations of CHamorus and Guamanians about their language and history. For many years, he was at the University of Guam as a Professor of Chamorro language. When I returned home after graduate school, I remember visiting his office a few times and always walking out with a new piece of information that had my mind running a mile a minute. I never felt like the time spent in his office was long enough. There was so much stuff in there to see; and there was so much stuff I wanted him to share with me. He’s truly a valuable resource for this island’s heritage; but he’s a resource that has been occasionally overlooked, sometimes mocked, and frequently resisted.

Peter Onedera

When I ran into his daughter, we began speaking about a recent move to rename route 6 the “Korean War Veteran Highway.” It’s not that I have a problem with veterans; my family is full of them. My problem is that we already have quite a few roads named after American wars, Western traditions, or individuals. Marine Corp Drive, Purple Heart Highway, and the Vietnam Veterans Highway are just a few examples of roads named in America's honor. When I heard the suggestion to change the road's name on the news, I was annoyed. I asked if it was possible to go anywhere on this island without being reminded that “America Rules” or that our people are dying for rights they aren’t wholly entitled to. I didn’t want to say it out loud (at first) because I didn’t want people to start accusing me of “hating soldiers,” “not supporting our troops,” or being “anti-American” (again). I felt a little less inhibited after a few of my relatives (who are veterans or soldiers) brought up the point themselves. Since they didn’t necessarily like the idea, I felt better about sharing my thoughts out loud. I went ahead and sent an e-mail to some contacts, asking what they knew about the suggestion and what anyone who wanted to suggest another name might do. They explained that I could write testimony for the legislature and encourage others who felt the same to do so.

I began reaching out, asking for information about our island’s road ways. A Guam history Professor e-mailed me, explaining that all our road ways predated both Japanese and American occupation. She explained that the roads were cleared using Chamorro slave labor under the Spanish. She also explained that many Chamorros died under Spanish enslavement and the clearing of these roads. I discovered that the road they wanted to rename the “Korean War Vet Highway” already had a very rich (and tragic) history. Interviews with man’amko from the area recalled yet another heartbreaking story about the loss of CHamoru lives under a foreign flag.

During World War II, while under Japanese occupation, many young Chamorro men and young boys who lived in the villages of Piti, Asan, Santa Rita, and Agat were forced to deliver food and medical supplies to Japanese troops who were stationed in Yona and the surrounding areas. The young men and boys would walk through the jungles and hills of Nimitz and Manenggon to reach the Japanese troops awaiting their supplies. The males within some of the families and villages would take turns with this task, knowing that the errand involved an uncertain journey. Many of the CHamoru males who undertook the walk mysteriously disappeared. Their fates were never revealed to their family members. The only people who know what become of them are eye witnesses who were not spared their lives either. A few families in the area report losing a young man this way. They knew that each time one of their young men or boys left, he might not make his way home.

When I heard this piece of our island’s history, I was immediately overcome with sadness. I thought of my grandparents, who had suffered terribly under Japanese occupation; and I thought of the various types of discrimination, displacement, and inequality they experienced under American occupation. I couldn’t help but feel a new, deep crack make its way across my heart. Lately, it seems like every research project creates a new crack, each one deeper than the next. The amount of injustice suffered by our people, our grandparents, and our ancestors is just so overwhelming that I can’t help but become obsessed with somehow fighting to “right” as many “wrongs” as I can... in any way I know how, even in ways some people find pointless.

I talked to Selina about all of this last night after the CSS meeting. During our discussion she told me that back in the 90’s, when she was somewhere around twelve years old, her father (Siñot Onedera) conducted research and it was presented to JQ (Senator Quinata), during the 27th body. A public hearing was held, and that was when John Gerber came to testify against the bill. Because JQ was not re-elected, the bill essentially died out with his term, and his students did not pursue their original attempt to have those roadways renamed. I can imagine why with the way the media had stood behind Gerber. It must have been very intimidating.

Executive Order 2004-08 was signed in April, 2004 for the renaming of Marine Corps Drive not long after that. When her father was still with the Kumision i Fino' Chamorro, he sought funding from the Guam Humanities Council to help produce the research and book that he eventually published. He conducted plenty interviews with manamko' around the island and did a lot of research to find the place names he proposed to the legislature. The Kumision held public hearings around the island, and villagers came out to testify.

Selina explained that eventually, the findings from the public hearings were introduced as legislative language, and that was when the senators did their thing on the floor in opposition to the Kumision's work. The Ada/Blas Administration made disparaging remarks too, but she couldn't recall exactly what they said. All she could remember was the negativity surrounding all the comments. Jon Anderson didn't help much, either. K57 pretty much campaigned against the Kumision, engaging in discussions that made it sound like the Kumision was making things up and doing their own thing. (Never mind that it was a government agency.)

I can’t imagine what an amazing, interesting, and empowering project that must have been for Siñot and his students. To uncover pieces of yourself that you never knew were missing is always a little surreal. I feel like I've been doing that pretty often these days.

When he asked that we reclaim our original names, he was mocked, laughed at, told it was “too expensive,” “too hard,” “pointless,” and not taken seriously. They didn’t understand why he felt it was important to restore the names. And now, as we desperately search for our history and fight to hang on to it, I wonder if the people who made fun of him at all regret brushing him off. They told him it would be too hard for “the post office” if such changes were made.

As Selina told me this, I could tell that the incident had made a profound impact on her. She described sitting behind her father, only a little girl, and listening in anguish as her father was mocked, his idea dismantled by the panel of "important people" in front of her. He was shot down by a Republican majority. When she told me the story, I could see her eyes water as she recalled the event. She grew into womanhood witnessing one local area after another renamed to commemorate periods of history and death under American occupation or American warfare. No questions were asked. It was not too expensive. It was not too hard, and apparently, the post office was okay (mail still went where it needed to go).

That night, as we spoke and laughed with friends, my mind kept wandering back toward Siñot and Selina. The image of his little girl sitting behind him, while he was ridiculed for presenting something so beautiful broke my heart. I thought of the way our island has made a habit out of disregarding advice from those who have tried to protect it. It’s only when the people are gone and the damage has been done that we tend to recall their struggle to preserve our identities and secure more freedoms. Many of them have not been “packaged” nicely enough for our colonial attitudes; and they’ve been excluded or marginalized.

Siñot spent quite a few years in a combative work environment, relentlessly pursuing the preservation and revival or our language and culture. I remember when he submitted a piece of creative work in Chamorro. He was pressured to provide an English translation. He resisted providing the translation very hard. I admired that about him. My friend even pointed out that if you read Siñot’s writing, you will notice that he refuses to revert to English spelling, even in cases where most people would. Many have resisted his determination to use the language in every way and forum he sees fit. Through it all, he has never failed to continue using it and encouraging it. I remember advice he gave me when I told him I was trying to learn. He told me that I needed to develop a "thick skin." He admitted that our people are critical of each other and not always encouraging. He reminded me that if I wanted to learn, I would have to keep trying, even when I made mistakes. It's the best advice anyone has ever given me regarding the Chamorro language. Remembering his advice has helped me to improve greatly within a short span of time. Even now, he continues to write in CHamoru within his newspaper column. His articles have become valuable tools in helping me to read, write, and become more proficient in our language.

Some of my friends and I are working on testimony to suggest that instead of renaming route 6 the “Korean War Vet Highway,” it be named Chalan Sinibetbiu, to honor the many lives lost by young CHamoru men who undertook the dangerous errand of delivering supplies during Japanese Occupation, CHamoru men who have disappeared, their stories forgotten. To more appropriately honor Chamorro soldiers who died under the American flag in Korea, we thought we would suggest naming streets in their respective villages after each individual soldier, commemorating them uniquely as servicemen with ancestry and histories far broader than within the narrow context of American occupation. When I asked my cousins who are veterans and soldiers about this idea, they supported the suggestion wholeheartedly. When speaking to one of my cousins, a veteran of America’s current war, I told her that I was relieved she wasn’t offended by the idea. She told me that as far as she knew, not many Chamorro soldiers would be. This confused me, because I am often reminded (usually by people who are NOT Chamorro) that I am disrespecting Chamorro soldiers by advocating for CHamoru rights. I now realize how stupid that is.

“Of course not, Des! I want what every soldier and regular person wants during ANY war, under ANY flag: to preserve the integrity of our home. Guam is my home. I am a Chamorro first and foremost.”

This has always been one of my favorite pictures of my cousin, Alison. An island girl marching off to defend the United States of America. She isn't the veteran I quote within this entry. The cousin I quoted preferred that I not include her name or picture. It's sad, but the reality of this island is that many of us are still inhibited by the fear of being ridiculed and reprimanded for publicly admitting we support actions that preserve our identities as unique people of Micronesia.

*Within this entry, you may notice that I’ve played around with different variations of spelling the word “Chamorro.” Selina shared some of the history behind the different spelling of the word, and it made me want to play around with them within this entry. There’s a story behind each variation, stories that add to the complexity and unique history of our language, stories that deserve an entry entirely their own.