Malak na Puti'on Tåsi--Dedicated to those lost at sea, again

A few days after I offered up my mistake-riddled "Reinen I Langet, I Piti'on Tåsi," I realized that my favorite Chamoru hymn (and the only one I know gi kirason-hu) used metaphors of the ocean. I initially heard it at the first funeral I ever attended on island as an adult--for someone else who the sea took too soon, a fisherman.

It seems strange to me, upon reflection, that all of the Chamorus I know, myself included, automatically ask for permission when visiting the jungle--but do nothing similar when going in the water. Perhaps I haven't been here long enough or been around the right people (those people who bleed saltwater, they're there so much) to learn the proper way, or perhaps it's the guellas yan guellos who prefer the land, or perhaps we've taken our relationship with the sea for granted. Either way(s), it seems a shame to neither approach nature with humility nor awe.

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MALAK NA PUTI'ON TÅSI

Ma'lak na puti'on tåsi chachalåni i batko-ku
Radiant star of the sea, guide my boat
su'on mo'na gi tano'-hu u fåtto lalakse
[That] smoothly propels towards my land
Li'e' guini Maria i piligru na senlåhyan
Behold here Maria the numerous perils
Ya un tailaye i sahyan yanggen ti un gigiha.
And a cruel table if you do not lead the way.

Ma'lak na puti'on tåsi chachalåni i batko-ku
Radiant star of the sea, guide my boat
su'on mo'na gi tano-hu u fåtto lalakse
[That] smoothly propels towards my land
I ma'udai na taotao ha fa'poposgue i tasi
[Håfa kumekilek-ña i fino' Inglis, håfa i sihetu--i taotao pat i batko pat i piti'on tåsi?]
The boater leaves the sea
Yan i nanan mina'åse' chumochoma' i chaochao.
And most holy mother forbade rough waters.

Ma'lak na puti'on tåsi chachalåni i batko-ku
su'on mo'na gi tano'-hu ya u fåtto lalakse.

Reinan I Langet, I Piti'on Tasi--Dedicated to those lost at sea

(Icon by Liliana Dumitru. You can also find her work here.)

The sea took two away.

I can't find any Chamoru prayers online dedicated to those who the ocean decided to claim. Perhaps because Santa Maria Kamalen is the patron saint of Guåhan, no one prays to St. Brendan (Irish apostle who saw a giant sea monster) or St. Nicholas (yes, the Greek bishop on whom Santa Claus is based doubles as the patron of fishermen and prostitutes) for the specific purpose of protecting those who make their lives gi tasi.

But it turns out that Stella Maris, or Our Lady, Star of the Sea, is the patroness for Catholic missions devoted to seafaring. Given the island's veneration of the Virgin, it would seem altogether appropriate--and culturally reassuring, no matter what one's spiritual persuasion may be--that some incarnation of Our Lady extends from the sandy floors to the waves on the reef.

And while I normally detest the metaphors associated with death, in this one hymn I do find some solace in the idea of "life's surge" (which I clumsily translated as "napun lina'la'"). My only hope is that the grieving families can, in time, find peace in theirs.

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Translation of "Hail Queen of Heaven, the Ocean Star"
ABE REINAN I LANGET, I PITI'ON TÅSI

Abe, reinan i langet, i piti'on tåsi,
Chachalenen i lina'on gi papa',
I napun lina'la' ha matmos ham,
Na'såfu ham ginen i piligru yan i triniste.

Nanan si Jesus, i piti'on tåsi,
Tayuyuti i lina'on, tayuyuti para guahu.

I Bithen benikno yan sensiyu,
Manisao ham, ta fanaitai para hågu,
Na'håsso iyo-mu Lahi ni apåsi
I presiu iyo-ta isao.

Sen pura i Bithen, i piti'on tåsi,
Tayuyuti i inisao, tayuyuti para guahu.

Yan Guiya na gaige gui' i langet,
Una na Yu'os, tres na taotao,
Humale' i lina'la', i grasia, i guinaiya,
Mandimu ham para hågu.

Sen ma'lak reina, i piti'on tåsi,
Tayuyuti para i famaguon-mu, tayuyuti para guahu.

Epiphany in steam and sea

What's that?

It is indeed disconcerting when you think your dinner is climbing out of the biggest stockpot you have--especially when that stockpot is a little more than a foot across.

In fact, this is what the stockpot had in store:

The problem with this photo, mainly, is that there is no way to impress you with the scale of this creature. I tried taking photos of my hands next to the crab, but my hands are scrawny as it is anyway, and short of putting it right next to my head for reference there's really no way of convincing you that this beast is nearly 14 inches across. That claw? In diameter, it has to be at least four inches.

A friend was wonderful enough to bring this crab from Pohnpei when he visited a month ago. The crab has been sitting in my freezer for a month, while in the meantime I borrowed a crab cracker and agonized over when to spend the necessary hours savoring such an ungodly animal.

Never mind that when I finally opened the freezer bag last night, I had a mild panic attack, seeing as I have never actually cooked shellfish before, and it was already in the stockpot steaming away for nearly 15 minutes before it occurred to me to look online for instructions on how to not die from eating self-prepared shellfish. The thought of potentially effing up meat that goes for about $20-25 also made me slightly anxious.

I'm still alive--and not drowning in sorrow from throwing away $20-25--today so I didn't mess up, thankfully.

In fact, I was truly overjoyed to be able to capture in a few photographs what I can't call anything less than a food epiphany. I've had two before: one while eating lobster for the second time in my life at a lobster supper on Prince Edward Island (with its fresh hot rolls and melted butter, bottomless bowl of clam chowder, and blueberry pie with real cream whipped cream for afterwards), and another that involved a Muslim Chinese beef dish with coriander seeds and cilantro after an eight year stint in vegetarian naivete.

Things that I learned throughout this experience:

1. I will never be able to again have a first time eating crab from Pohnpei,

2. Claws and legs are absolutely worth the effort of gnawing away; it's about enjoying the sea water within and the firm texture of the flesh. However, if you only eat the legs, there are no words to describe your loss in neglecting the more tender and interesting body meat,

3. A ball-peen hammer is a reasonable substitute for a crab mallet,

4. Despite a genuine commitment to make sure that the intended dinner did not die in vain or wastefully, and given that the five foods on this planet I just don't like include kidney and liver, it is sometimes worth wasting a little bit (in this case, crab lungs) so as not to spoil the entire experience,

and,

5. Despite 2 1/2 hours of committed eating, slurping, picking, and smacking, it is reasonable to expect that one will, at the end of such an effort, be as hungry as one was when one started.

However, it was worth every second. The crab did not die in vain. Its shell and leftover parts (minus those suspiciously textured lungs) will be resurrected in stock, and maybe I'll end up keeping part of that claw as a memento for what is really, truly great food.

Is this why Guåhan's waters are warm?

I went swimming today a mere few hours after reading this article in the Guam Pacific Daily News:

"Submarine leaks radiation: Navy says risk minimal; Guam tests due Tuesday."

I still get substantially fewer rashes here than I did when I swam in California.

Essentially, a nuclear submarine that is home-docked in Guåhan went to Hawaii for maintenance and was found to leak nuclear material-containing water. The leak could have been undetected for the past five months.

It is possible that the amount of water leaked contains "negligible" amounts of radiation, but I wonder what kinds of formal responsibilities the U.S. military has towards Guåhan's land and people when (and I write when, not if) more of these accidents occur.