Runoff: Slavery or dignity?

Politicians aren’t necessarily equipped with clarity of vision, therefore the lack of a clear mission on policies requiring due diligence to listen to their people. They brave telling us what’s good for us for all the wrong reasons.

One of such decisions pertains to casino as a matter of policy, shortsighted on every front. It simply ignored the will of “we the people.” It was a full display of arrogance. The mandate never came from the consent of the governed. Policymakers turned self-anointed “masters” rather than retain sanity as “public servants.”

Be that as it may, I took a journey into the presumptuous casino land as the centerpiece of our “new” way of life. Very sad how we have given up our cultural traditions in favor of a lifestyle that was never a part of us.

Subtly, we were cornered to reset buttons to meet the demands of this so-called “new” way of life in the “fast lane” set aglow by flashing neon lights. Sadly, each time we leave the venue or work place, we return to substandard housing and poverty in the gutter of our indecisions.

We trashed our value system in favor of complete individual freedom. Through the years many would have sold their properties. As more of indigenous land is sold to non-indigenous folks, the NMI must necessarily plan public housing to shelter the landless that once had property.

Land, our language, and cultural traditions are the last pillars of hope to sustain our simple ways of life. If it is our decision on 21st of November to trash it permanently, then I hope such a decision is made consciously and conscientiously, too.

The level of self-destruction is like cancerous cells that metastasize or spread everywhere in your blood system. It turns the pathway from pride and dignity to indentured slaves. We would rely on federal handouts, e.g., Medicaid, housing vouchers or public housing, among others, embracing it as the norm. The lack of self-respect would be a hallmark of selling out easily to moneyed casino people.

Ten years from now we would gather at sunset, yearning for the good old days when our future was in our hands. By then the NMI would have finally attained the crown jewel of a permanent welfare state. More of our very own people move off-island in search of opportunities that resembles indigenous values they once had at “home.”

In brief, this is our future for trashing indigenous values that have held us together for centuries. This is our future in casino land. Do we prostitute or trash our culture, tradition, and our future for 40 silvers?

Of permanent displacement
The self-inflicted permanent displacement of our people would not hit our shores in tsunami-like fashion. But the red tide would rise above normal height, drowning anything and everything in it.

Our island way of life would definitely drown and fade with the low tide when it recedes. We would have been washed out to the open sea and won’t even turn into debris in the lagoon. Gone!

It is the unintended consequences of the inevitable that many would treat and dispense as a fly-by cotton ball on their shirt. At day’s end, it is far more destructive than its appearance. It’s a killer fox in a rabbit fur. A rising tide could either float or sink your boat. It’s the latter that I fear most about. It is this fear that seems to be intensifying steadily by the day.

One could only do so much, after which it’s all in the court of public disposition. Indeed, we’re challenged to decide between modernity with casino or our traditional or indigenous way of life. I have seen indigenous resiliency over the last five decades, how we’ve picked up ourselves to move forward after the devastation of a superstorm. The superstorm this time is our future: our way of life or slaves of casino.

With a sense of humility
Many of us have seen the hardship of poverty in the late ’50s and early ’60s. We’ve seen the sacrifice of our parents who never gave up just so that we could go to school and prepare for the challenges ahead. We did our share to be good and contributing members of our community.

In the years of enduring poverty I’d ask my mom if there’s anything better than what we had then. She said, “As poor as we are son, your dad and I have never done anything to humiliate any of you for life.” Their resiliency to maintain a strong family amidst the unbearable hardship gave us the courage to work by their side at the old family farm most days of the week.

We did our share of chores each day. As hard as those days were, we never lost sight of hope for we also believe that someday we’d see a bright new morning. We chose careers and succeeded in realizing our dreams. It was a long and hard journey but was worth all the sacrifice.

I was determined to ensure that my children would never have to deal with misery in abject poverty. I have succeeded as most of you have too. Let’s ensure that we don’t allow the casino policy to turn opportunities into a swamp of abject poverty for our children. It’s all in the palm of our hands. Let’s guard the future of our children!

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Gi halom didog na pinepble ta chahlau umuma kilu`os-ta pot para ta fedus un` hogsu` `nai a`anog malag na chagchag oga`an. Makat na karera gi halom gaddun kañada lau ni unu sumeha.

Maila ta fan agu`ot kanai ya ta protehe direchota. Muñga manañga na u atalag i asuntu. Maila` tafan apipet gi halom este na piligru para minauleg unu pot otru!