Politics: Long, Long Ago

The introduction of bipartisan politics in the islands in the early sixties wrought substantive changes to traditional social norms. Initially, it wedged Chamorros and Carolinians where the latter has no chance of securing at least a seat in the municipal council. For years, it was an exercise in futility. What’s interesting though was the shift from racial to real bipartisan politics that eventually allowed for greater focus on issues.

There was the birth of the Popular and Progressive parties. Bipartisan politics descended in the local community like a new found religious cult. Families were forcibly divided along party lines. Even the traditional source of unity in novenas or family death suffered heavily and all because we’ve found a new found political toy. The beginning of a new era in civil government started taking permanent roots.

The round house and old municipal buildings in CK were the final battle ground for both popular and progressive parties. Campaigning had nothing to do with political planks. It was basically about sex scandals that would cut an instant grin on Clinton’s and Monica’s faces. Ken Starr would never be able to sift fact from fiction. And not when on island rumors are treated as facts!

The popular party later advanced reunification with Guam not because there was a genuine sentiment to bring Chamorros together, but the real motive was the $1 per hour minimum wage. Ours then was about $.20 an hour. Yeah, we were slaves of the lead federal agency we now know of as the US Department of Interior. The Guamanians, however, soundly rejected our proposal in a plebiscite. They didn’t want us. We were shocked at the resounding rejection. There goes our alleged “American Dream” of $1 per hour and a case of coke in the refrigerator.

Those were the days when returning Chamorros who visited relatives on Guam talked endlessly about Coca-Cola and the inexpensiveness of basic items which they pay for dearly here with an arm and a leg. I speculated then that it wasn’t unification with our brothers and sisters that we wanted of each other, but the evil of the dollar and that once dreamed drink of the affluent–coke! We were willing to make progress in our lives–more dietary shifts–from fish to steak or young coconuts to cola.

I mean, those were the days when classmates turn into instant friends because you had a bottle of Coke in your brown paper bag. Yeap, you get that superficial aura of affluence flowing out of your nose and ears because you had Coke on excursion trips. Boy, I was ready to Coke my way through life! Statesiders longed for the
“American Dream”, ours was simpler: the $1 an hour MW and, yes, you’ve guessed it, Coke! No wonder the issue of minimum wage retained historic importance even among those making way beyond the statutory wage here.

Through those years, I’ve heard more than my share of racist remarks leveled against a part of my blood–Carolinian–while the other quizzes the lack of a definitive ancestral origin–Chamorro. I recall walking into class from grammar to high school the sibling of both a majority and minority. It’s actually a win-win trophy which enabled me to dismiss racist remarks as an integral part of the political maturation process. Gradually, we were able to pull out of our provincial mentality into better days when issues for the benefit of all took center stage.

Well, we’ve come a long way in our political development. The next chapter is even more challenging–rebuilding a ruined bridge in our relationship with our mother country–the greatest nation on earth! Make way for young and educated visionaries to carry the torch of leadership in the first quarter of the next millennium. No mo` room for superstition, you know da kine, when you went for convincing others that you for know when you know that you don’t for know? A` Saina!