Halo! Everbody home?

For all the anti-military sentiments we’ve heard, Kilili knows well in advance the need to bring in the Marines from Hawaii to help in the recovery effort. It brought in its own RO system and helped villagers with potable water daily. It had to return by the 18th (last week) but we begged for four more days.

I was actually waiting for the anti-military platoon from upstairs to start rolling out its own RO system to replace the military. But they only have fully air-conditioned cars leased and paid for by the taxpayers to make empty rounds, daily. I suppose it’s okay benefitting from taxpayer-provided power generators and water buffaloes that blur their naked eyes of the real hardship out in the villages. What accomplishment!

It’s appalling too the obvious lack of understanding of the depth of destruction islandwide. We have eight teams working the electrical system and at the rate of recovery, we should clear the field at the same time next year. This is indecision at its worse, but then what else do we expect from the exhausted “solutions driven” team? It ignores solutions while driven off their fiduciary duties, dazed.

Sisyphean suffering: Someone asked, “Has the NMI been relegated to a lifetime of Sisyphean suffering?” Remember Sisyphus’ punishment to roll a huge rock up the hill then roll it down and repeat the whole thing until sunset? I was ready to answer negatively but measured against the same grand redundancy, maybe Sisyphean suffering is part of our lifetime curse!

Beauty of paradise: Occasionally, I’d walk in nearby wooded areas or along secluded shorelines to connect with the beauty of an island paradise. I needed the fresh air from underneath giant monkeypod trees or salt spray from across the sea. I’m revisiting home!

While enjoying the cool gentle breeze under huge tree branches I saw Jack and Jill (Marianas crow) visiting with curious quick eyes looking for something. They pick food, fly off then make return trips. I was curious if it’s food gathering for newly hatched chicks at a nest nearby or is it the mating season?

I love the free-spirited visitations. Even more importantly is the aesthetics it adds to our surroundings that make us whole. The lovebirds are beautiful creatures and how wonderful listening to their songs at dawn and dusk. At least they give us the reassurance that we live on an island and not in urban cement jungles like New York, Chicago, or LA.

I also met a green playful lizard moving about in quick pensive fashion. Interesting the reptilian shift in colors depending on the shade of the branch—green or brown—chasing something to munch. He did quick summersaults among leaves boasting of his youthful agility.

The threat of rainstorm gathering out east is wonderful music to our ears. We get renewed enthusiasm to reboot as drizzle and whippy breeze make it through the island. Well, at least the sound triggers a sense of hope that not all is lost in paradise! It’s sickening listening to shallow spouts from pols.

Also had the opportunity to visit serene Lake Susupe. It’s a calming experience hearing quick flips from tilapia nearby or the screams of a flock of mallard ducks flying in formation across the water headed somewhere. At least it had a sense of direction.

It’s a place you could romanticize for hours by imagining you’re sitting atop the deck of a boat under starry skies or full moon night in the middle of the lake. I mean there’s the opportunity to push everything to the limits in your imagination.

There are two other lakes I know of here. Two are on Pagan—one immediately below the exhausted crater—the other near the western shore, though not a natural one. The one on top is steaming with vapor daily you couldn’t miss it. Would building huts around it be a safe venture?

The biggest crater must be on Alimagan that zooms up from the base like a pyramid of sort. It’s a deep place inundated with wild plants, goats and fruit bats. Unless you’re from Alimagan, don’t brave venturing into it. Overall, it was one pleasant walk seeing what I’ve missed for years or the simple beauty of home.

My friend Chamu: There’s a pleasant resurgence in Guam to teach kids how to speak their native tongue. Sadly, I noticed a TV program where Chamorro is taught as a second language. In other words, it is being taught in English. And I was like, “Something doesn’t add up here.” If you’re teaching me Chamorro why speak English? Get my point?

The NMI isn’t far behind the teaching of Chamorro as a second language. I understand a survey was done in recent years where it was found that 90 percent of households use English daily rather than Chamorro. What perfect recipe to set the path to ensure the slow death and burial of the local language using English as the primary lingo of indigenous kids.

Essentials: Appalling how we say one thing then instantly ignore the essentials to put the face of integrity behind our views. Is there a vicious dementia issue quietly eating our brains when we go to sleep at night?

We complain of corruption but vote for the same folks and pretend we “saw nothing, heard nothing and didn’t know anything.” Ooops! Did I implicate you?

We speak of indigenous culture but drop the ball altogether. Then we return for seconds. Seesuzzzz! Is dementia cultural too?

***

Watched tour buses return from the airport. The last one had two passengers, one the conductor the other the driver. Ooops! Heard there are thousands of visitor cancellations.