The Chamorros are the indigenous people of the Mariana Islands — politically divided between Guam and the Northern Mariana Islands in Micronesia.

Today, Chamorro culture continues to be preserved through the sharing of language and teaching via The Guam Museum.

But the battle to be heard and have a voice as a US territory remains an ongoing struggle.

Chamorro cultural historian and museum curator Dr Michael Bevacqua says Chamorro people in Guam have a complex relationship with the US — they consider themselves as Pacific islanders, who also happen to be American citizens.

Bevacqua says after liberation in July 1944, there was a strong desire and pressure among Chamorros to “Americanise”.

Chamorros stopped speaking their language to their children, as a result. They were also pressured to move to the US mainland so the US military could build their bases and thousands of families were displaced.

“There was this feeling that being Chamorro wasn’t worth anything. Give it up. Be American instead,” he says.

‘Fundamental moment’
For the Chamorros, he explains, attending the Festival of Pacific Arts in the 1970s and 1980s was a “very fundamental moment”.

It allowed them to see how other islanders were dealing with and navigating modernity, he adds.

“Chamorros saw that other islanders were proud to be Islanders. They weren’t trying to pretend they weren’t Islanders,” Dr Bevacqua said.

“They were navigating the 20th century in a completely different way. Other islanders were picking and choosing more, they were they were not completely trying to replace, they were not throwing everything away, they trying to adapt and blend.”

Being part of the largest gathering of indigenous people, is what is believed to have led to several different cultural practitioners, many of whom are cultural masters in the Chamorros community today, to try to investigate how their people expressed themselves through traditional forms.

“And this helped lead to the Chamorro renaissance, which manifested in terms of Chamorros starting to carve jewellery again, tried to speak their language again, it led to movements for indigenous rights again.

“A lot of it was tied to just recognise seeing other Pacific Islanders and realising that they’re proud to be who they are. We don’t have to trade in our indigenous identity for a colonial identity.

“We can enjoy the comforts of American life and be Chamorro. Let’s celebrate who we are.”

Dr Bevaqua says respect and reciprocity are key values for the Chamorro people.

If someone helps a Chamorro person, then they need to make sure that they reciprocate, he adds.

“And these are relationships which sometimes extend back generations, that families help each other, going back to before World War II, and you always have to keep up with them.

“In the past, sometimes people would write them down in little books and nowadays, people keep them in their notes app on their phones.”

But he says the most important value for Chamorros now is the concept of inafa’ maolek.

Inafa’ maolek describes the Chamorru concept of restoring harmony or order and translated literally is “to make” (inafa’) “good” (maolek).

Relationship with community
“This is sort of this larger interdependence and inafa’ maolek the most fundamental principle of Chamorru life. It could extend between sort of people, but it can also extend as well to your relationship with nature, [and] your relationship to your larger community.”

He says the idea is that everyone is connected to each other and must find a way to work together, and to take care of each other.

He believes the Chamorro people are always held back because as a territory, Guam does not have an international voice.

“The United States speaks for you; you can yell, shout, and scream. But as a as a territory, you’re not supposed,to you’re not supposed to count, you’re not supposed to matter.”

He adds: “That’s why for me decolonisation is essential, because if you have particular needs, if you are an island in the western Pacific, and there are challenges that you face, that somebody in West Virginia, Ohio, Utah, Arizona and California may not care about it in the same way, and may be caught up in all different types of politics.

“You have to have the ability to do something about the challenges that are affecting you. How do you do that if 350 million people, 10,000 miles (16,000 km) away have your voice and most of them don’t even know that they hold your voice. It sucks.”

This article is republished under a community partnership agreement with RNZ.

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz

Christina Dawa Kutsmana Thomas is on a mission to save her indigenous language from extinction. There are only eight people from her reservation in the state of Nevada who are fluent in Numu Yadooana — Northern Paiute, and they’re aged 70+.

“I feel like I’m under immense pressure. If I don’t do this, then who will? My people have become assimilated into modern life and we have to face the harsh reality that few people speak our language,” she says.

“It’s harder for my people to have a language renaissance because there are so many different tribes in America — 574. That’s 574 completely different languages, cultures, and histories.”

Thomas has spent the last eight months in New Zealand as a US Fullbright Scholar, attending kohanga reo, kura kaupapa, and classes at the University of Auckland, to observe and understand how te reo is being taught.

It’s been an eye-opening experience compared to how indigenous languages are treated in the US, she says.

“It’s hard for people to find time to learn our language, it’s a struggle to get people to attend community classes or seek it out on their own. We also don’t have resources, books, or a strong curriculum that ensures fluency for new language speakers.

“I feel grounded being in Aotearoa because I can see the support and the love for te reo and Māori culture, and it gives me the reassurance that I can do this.”

Growing up not speaking
Thomas grew up on the Pyramid Lake Paiute Reservation in Wadsworth, Nevada. Although it was a close-knit community, their Native language was discouraged from being spoken at home.

“My grandmother’s first language was Paiute, but she didn’t speak it to her own children, and discouraged my great-grandma to teach it to my mom. I then in turn grew up not speaking.

“At this time, Native people in the US were discouraged to speak their language and were trying to blend in with society in order to save their children from ridicule and racist remarks.”

Thomas was in her 20s and attending the University of Nevada in Reno when she came across an elder from her tribe who was teaching Paiute language classes at the Reno-Sparks Indian Colony.

“I grew up on a reservation and I knew my tribal affiliations but I did not know my history or the language. I started going to language classes and caught on quickly.”

Driving force
She was encouraged to take one-on-one lessons and found a new passion. Thomas has since been a teacher of the Paiute language in public high schools, a language consultant, and instructor for her tribe. She was the driving force behind the Paiute language being established as the first Indigenous language course at the University of Nevada.

For the past decade, Thomas has also been involved in Native arts and language regeneration projects. She was set to study to become an orthodontist, but her passion for language revitalisation and her culture made her change careers.

She enrolled to study to earn a PhD in Native American Studies at the University of California in the city of Davis.

She spent two weeks in New Zealand in 2018 as an undergraduate student conducting research on te reo, visiting language nests, primary, secondary, and tertiary schools.

In 2019, Christina returned to present her research at the University of Waikato for the Native American Indigenous Studies Association yearly international conference. She vowed then that she would be back for an extended period to focus and observe further about language regeneration.

Thomas returned to Aotearoa in February 2023 and will be flying home at the end of this month.

“New Zealand is known for its revitalisation of the te reo Māori. I had previously made connections here, so I knew that whānau would be able to help place me into schools and spaces for me to observe and learn.”

20 percent “native speakers”
Until World War II, most Māori spoke their te reo as their first language. But by the 1980s, fewer than 20 percent of Māori spoke the language well enough to be classed as native speakers.

In response, Māori leaders initiated Māori language recovery-programs such as the kōhanga reo movement, which started in 1982 and immersed infants in Māori from infancy to school age.

In 1989, official support was given for kura kaupapa Māori-primary and secondary Māori-language immersion schools.

The Māori Language Act 1987 was passed as a response to the Waitangi Tribunal finding that the Māori language was a taonga, a treasure or valued possession, under the Treaty of Waitangi and the Act gave te reo Māori official language status.

“I’d love to see everything that has been accomplished here in Aotearoa happen back home in my community,” Thomas says.

“My dream after I complete my PhD is to go home and open our very own kohanga reo.”

Thomas says what she has observed in New Zealand has been invaluable and will carry with her for the rest of her life.

“I’ve seen how teachers and kura are working towards Māori-based learning, by, with and for Māori.”

Trans-indigenous connection
“There’s a trans-indigenous connection. Our language is connected to our land and our ancestors by our songs, languages and stories. The beliefs we have as Indigenous people are connected and similar in so many ways.”

Throughout this journey, Thomas has brought her seven-year-old son, Jace Naki’e, along for the experience.

“I was really excited for him to be able to go to school here and have this experience. He loves kapa haka and learning about Māori culture. He’s also been able to share his culture in return.”

This article is republished under a community partnership agreement with RNZ.

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz

Two radio stations linked to the French Pacific’s decolonisation movements want to co-operate to lift the use of indigenous languages.

The heads of Radio Tefana in French Polynesia and Radio Djiido in New Caledonia said this was in line with the United Nations declaring the next 10 years as the decade of vernacular languages.

Tahiti Nui TV quoted a member of Radio Djiido, Kengy Wiwale-Hauata, saying New Caledonia had 30 local languages and they were all honoured on the radio every day.

The two stations plan to expand co-operation in the region, considering partnerships with Wallis and Futuna, Solomon Islands, Vanuatu and Fiji.

The two stations were set up in the 1980s when the pro-independence movements were led by Oscar Temaru and the late Jean-Marie Tjibaou respectively. Both broadcast on the frequency 97.4FM.

Radio Tefana is threatened with closure because of a US$1 million fine imposed three years ago when Temaru, mayor of Faa’a and a former President of French Polynesia, was handed a suspended prison sentence over the station’s funding arrangement.

The conviction has been appealed but a hearing of the case has been deferred for a fifth time until next year.

This article is republished under a community partnership agreement with RNZ.

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz