Empanåda

If there is one thing I craved while in Sanlågu, it was Chamoru-style empanåda. I had grown up only knowing these kinds (on the rare trips that my grandmother made to Sanlågu, carrying bags of frozen ones in her suitcase), so it was quite a shock when I got to Los Angeles and had my first taste of Filipino empanadas.

For those of you who have never tried the ones available in Los Angeles, Filipino empanadas are filled with chicken or pork and baked in a slightly sweet bready dough. I assume that variations include baking the fillings in flaky pastry dough and frying the things, but I never had any prepared that way in L.A.

I had tried some empanadas from some South American countries (I can't remember which ones now because it was more than a year ago) at Empanada Mama in New York: cheesy and tasty. You can also find recipes for nouveau varieties --like those for fillings with goat cheese and dandelion greens in the Los Angeles Times, which, frankly, sound sort of silly.

And so, the first morning I awoke in Guåhan, the first thing I did was get myself over to the Aguon store in Barigåda and get me two empanåda and a King Carr ice tea...



... and promptly, a little heartburn, too, because I wasn't exactly used to eating a spicy deep-fried something at 6:30 a.m.

But i kirason-hu, a little more clogged for the wear, nonetheless appreciates the goodness that is a Chamoru empanåda. As you can see, it's 1) deep-fried, 2) consists of a corn-based dough as opposed to all the other wheat-based ones I've tried in Sanlågu, and 3) orange, courtesy of the ubiquitous Chamoru spice, achiote seed. From the picture, you can't see that 1) it's got perfectly crunchy edges, and 2) it's warm, having been fried probably not less than an hour before, but probably less than even that.

And on the inside?



That's either toasted and ground rice or toasted cream of rice boiled with chicken stock and enhanced with bacon (or chicken), lots of pepper, and more achiote seed. Also notice that the outer dough has broken into individual crispy flakes courtesy of a deep fry job well done.

Simple breakfast bought for about $1 each from the Aguon store. But of course if you're not here, you can always try making them yourself (look under "Meat").

I palabrå-ña i gereru 2 ("Them's fightin' words 2," or a summary of Terminator 2)

In the spirit of continuing to evolve the Chamoru language, as per i ga'chong-hu si Miget, a continuation from the previous post... Given his propensities for things sci-fi, I think he'll appreciate my efforts.

I sindålu siha mañadalu unu na taotao ni' pumarehu yan umali'e' i mimu na tano'. I litratu kahon humihot i matå-ña i taotao. Ilek-ña si Sarah:
"A man is saluted by his soldiers as he crosses a destroyed hallway and starts to inspect the battlefield from a safe distance. The camera [no Chamoru word for camera, from here out I use "picture box"] zooms in on his scarred face as Sarahs voice-over continues:"

"'Si Skynet, i Dangkolu na Måkina ni mumanea i dikike' na måkina siha, numå'i dos lulok na pekno' siha gi i tiempo; i hangai-ñiha: dåñu i maga'låhi di mata'pang na taotao siha: si John Connor, iyo-ku na låhi. I mina'hacha Lulok na Pekno' ha na'espånta yu' gi 1984, åntes mafañagu si John. Ti siña gui'. I mina'hugua Lulok na Pekno' ha na'espånta i patgon si John.'"
"Skynet, the computer that controlled the machines, sent two terminators [literally, we're going to go with "Steel Killer"] back through time; their mission: to destroy the leader of the human resistance: John Connor, my son. The first Terminator was programmed to strike at me in the year 1984, before John was born. It failed. The second was set to strike at John himself when he was just a child."

Taigue i matå-ña si John Connor gi i guaifi, ilek-ña si Sarah: "I Taotao na Sindålu Siha kenå'i i hacha na gereru ha' ni prumatehi si John. Håyi humånao si John?"
The close-up of John Connor dissolves into a blaze of inferno, as Sarah continues: "As before, the Resistance was able to send a lone warrior as a protector for John. It was just a question of which one would reach him first." [I have no idea how to write that, so let's go with a rhetorical question.]

I palabra-ña i gereru, or, "Them's fightin' words"

I've been slogging away through one of the few Chamoru language texts, I Manmañaina-ta: I Manmaga'låhi yan I Manmå'gas: Geran Chamoru yan Españot, available and have developed a pretty awesome vocabulary in doing so. My word list has grown to about 220 words and though my reading is far from fluent, it's gotten much easier over time. As with any language learning practice, the key for me is to be disciplined and take a little at a time.

This word list gives you a sense of the book's topic:

aniti = devil
åtmas = weapon
chiget = to run over
dåñu = harm
dudeng = to cut, amputate
embeste = to challenge
espånta = to threaten, frighten
go'te = to retain by force
håtme = to attack
honño' = to hold down, suppress
hulat = to overpower, subdue
låmen = harm, wound, punish
mumu = fight, combat
ñaka' = hang (to death)
ñukot = to strangle
paki = shoot (a gun)
pekno' = killer
si'ok = to stab
traduti = to ambush
utot = to cut
yamak = to break, destroy

Needless to say, once I find a regular conversational partner I'm going to have some very action-packed dialogues.

In the meantime, I'm working on a translation of the plot synopsis for Terminator 2, which is probably one of the most violent movies I had ever seen as a kid and which probably scarred me for life.



"Lulok" means "metal". So I've translated "androids" and "robots" lulok na taotao siha, or metal people. Ideally, I would be able to call them "nefarious lulok na taotao siha ," but my vocab's not quite there yet. (Also, thank you to Creative Commons license user lrargerich for the photo!)

Courtesy of IMDB (with some liberties taken on my part):

En li'e' bula i kareta yan i famagu'on ni humugåndo manhugåndo gi plåsa.
"Production credits appear in shots of traffic lines and children playing in playgrounds."

Umasut i litråtu annai mumaitai manmatai i bos-ñiha i famagu'on; despues en li'e' i Los Angeles gi 2029 dos mit sientos bente nuebi.
"The shot starts to fade into blue as the sounds of children's voices die out, followed by a flash-forward to Los Angeles in 2029 AD."

Sumasalåguan i tano': bula fatso na kareta, bula i gima ni yamak, yan umattilong na plåsa kon i ha'iguas siha yan i kalabera siha.
"The world has become a wasteland of wrecked cars, destroyed buildings, and black-charred playgrounds filled with skeletons and skulls." [No word for "wasteland," so I'm going to go with sasalåguan, which means "hell."]

Ilek-ña si Sarah Connor: "Fakpo' Manakpo' tres [billion] na lina'la' siha gi Tenhos alas huega na fulu sigua, 1997 i diha bente nuebi gi Agosto/Tenhos mit sientos nubentai siete. I taotao siha ni la'la'la' i Gof Dångkolo na Guafi ilek-ñiha Dia Dethuisio. Ma Siha embeste i nuebu na pesadiya: mumu kontra i makina siha."
The voice of Sarah Conner (Linda Hamilton) starts narrating: "3 billion human lives ended on August 29th, 1997. The survivors of the nuclear fire called the war Judgment Day. [No Chamoru word for "nuclear fire"; I'm going with "Really Big Fire."] They only lived to face a new nightmare: the war against the machines."

Now we get graphic.

I patas-ña i lilok na taotao ha yamak ha'iguas gi i tano'. Tutuhon Tumututuhon i mimu kontra i taotao siha yan i lilok na taotao siha.
"The foot of a metallic android smashes a skull on the ground. A battle is starting between human guerrilla troops and a technically far superior robotic army."

I makina siha ma chiget hai'guas siha, ma hulat i taotao siha ni ato'.
"Crushing skulls beneath their tracks, robotic tanks open a full-frontal assault on the humans, who are trained to make use of what shelter the ruined terrain offers them."

I batkon aire siha ma espiha i taotao siha, yan T-800 lilok na taotao siha ma espiha lokkue'. Pumadesi Manadesi i taotao siha, lao ma yamak bula i batkon aire, meggai i lilok na taotao, yan bula i [tanks].
"Flying aircraft search the ground for targets, as T-800 androids sweep the terrain at places the tanks cannot access. Although they suffer heavy losses, the humans manage to destroy several tanks, aircraft and androids."

I can't wait to see what happens next.

UPDATED: I diha trenta gi i Abrit/Lumuhu. Kumomprende yu' i fecha ta'lo gi på'go i ha'åni.

Kaffo' and pahong (pandanus fruit)

While wandering on a northeastern beach, I came across a plant I'd never seen before. And it was sprouting what seemed to be a big fruit, so naturally I had to do some research.

A person in our group said the fruit was edible, but that it could make one's mouth itchy. I didn't bother to find out.

However, it turns out that this fruit is from the pandanus plant (pandanus fragrans) and is in fact edible, eaten most notably in Kiribati and the Marshall Islands. It's ripe when the those pod-like parts, called phalanges, separate, pop out and turn orange.

Obviously this fruit isn't ready for picking, then. If you look closely on the left side of the fruit, you'll see it beginning to turn slightly.

The phalanges then can give off a sweet smell. You can apparently eat them by boiling them or scooping out the pulp within, and they contain seeds--which themselves contain oxalates and are the little buggers that can cause itchiness or irritation when ingested (though they're not supposed to be toxic). [Note: the kaffo', eaten by fanihi/fruit bats, is different from fadang/federico palm seeds, which was theorized by Oliver Sacks (Island of the Colorblind) to cause the infamous lytico-bodig disease. Sacks thought that the fadang-eating fanihi concentrated the seed toxin within their body fat, which then transferred to Chamorus when they ate the bats.]

So if I happen to go back and get a ripe kaffo', I guess I'll be trying out this recipe, courtesy of the Secretariat of the Pacific Community's (2001) publication, The Fruits We Eat. I've paraphrased the exact directions, but here's the main gist:

1. Boil phalanges. Alternatively, you can also pound the crap out of them.

2. Remove pulp.

3. Strain out the seeds. The resulting juice should be thick.

4. Dry the juice on leaves in the sun or over a hot stove, in either small cakes or as a large rectangular one.

5. Flip it over, dry some more, and then cut.

Some variations include adding coconut milk or grated coconut to the juice itself. It's supposed to taste like a cross between coconut and almond, so maybe it would go well with a tumbler of... rum?

Munga umamot i semnak-hu away

On the Chamoru language front, things are progressing, albeit pretty slowly. For the most part I've been disciplined about studying for about one hour a day, including a half hour of vocab review and a half hour of reading and/or writing. I've got a working vocabulary of about 800 words now.

You'll notice there's no speaking or listening practice in there; unfortunately, I've yet to gain a steady conversational partner. Like many other young Chamorus trying to learn their native tongue, it can be very hard to find a supportive conversational partner--partly because the old people may not have the physical stamina or patience to listen to young Chamorus stutter through 30 minutes of Chamoru babytalk (which is an inevitable and necessary stage of any language learning), and partly because I've got to get over my own personal embarassment at being in that babytalk phase myself.

So that embarassment thing has got to go, and it's one of my personal attitude change projects for this year.

In the meantime, I've started translating things for myself to practice and learn some new grammar. I listen to the Chamoru radio on a weekly basis and realized that one of the songs my mom used to sing a lot in English seemed pretty simple, and that I already knew a fair amount of the vocabulary. So here it is, my translation of:

Munga Umamot I Semnak-hu

Hågu i semnak-hu, i semnak-hu ha’,
Un na’magof yu’ anai humomhom langet
Ti un tungo’ hu guaiya hao
Munga umamot i semnak-hu.

Desde i painge gumuinifi yu’
Hågu gaige gi fi’on-hu
Puminiti yu’ anai makmata yu’,
Tåya hågu pues tumånges yu’.

Hågu i semnak-hu, i semnak-hu ha’,
Un na’magof yu’ anai humomhom langet
Ti un tungo’ hu guaiya hao
Munga umamot i semnak-hu.

Ilek-mu neni, tåya otro sa’
Ni håyi tumupa kurason-måmi
Lao må’pos ni guaiya i etro
Un na’yåmak i guinifi-hu.

Hågu i semnak-hu, i semnak-hu ha’,
Un na’magof yu’ anai humomhom langet
Ti un tungo’ hu guaiya hao
Munga umamot i semnak-hu.

"Munga" is a negative imperative and the root word of "umamot" is "amot," which means "take away." "Somnak" means "sunshine." Therefore this is a lame attempt at "You are My Sunshine."

A few translating things: First, there's a line in there about skies being gray. Well, the word for gray is "kulot apu," which sounds less than poetic, and so I went for cloudy, which is "homhom." That's a pretty awesome word, both in its repetition and round vowel! But alas, it also gives me 12 syllables in a line where there should only by nine. But you know what? It's a cool word so I'm going to homhom wherever the hell I want.

Second, the fourth stanza (which my mom left out, for reasons that will be obvious if you think about singing this song to a kid) goes like this:

"You told me once dear, there'd be no other
That no one else could come between
But now you've left me to love another
You have broken all my dreams."

The last line in that stanza is a pretty convenient phrase and I'm sure it's not included in the Donald Topping's Chamorro Reference Grammar, so for those of you wannabe Chamoru broken hearts, you can now say "Un na'yåmak i guinifi-hu," but if you really want to drive home the point that literally ALL of your dreams are now in the toilet, say "Un na'yåmak todu i guinifi-hu." I left out the "todu" part in the song because it was two extra syllables.

Third, this song doesn't make much sense on Guåhan, because let's face it, there's never a day without sunshine. Even in rainy season. The sun is relentless and every local will complain about how hot it is, even though this is a tropical island and that (literally) goes with the territory (that's a political status joke--ha ha groan). So yes, there's always sun--my yori tan testifies to that!

Morning surprise

The title of this post could be taken in so many ways, but happily, over the weekend, it only meant one thing ...



... PUPPIES. These guys got loose from the neighbor's cage and of course I couldn't resist feeding them a little.

You call that dirty?

At least two locals who grew up here have told me that they would prefer to live in Washington state or Saipan, because the air is "cleaner" and "fresher" there than in Guåhan.

Now, The Boyfriend is not the greatest photographer in the world (although he is pretty good), but he wouldn't have to do anything by way of Photoshopping to improve the actual look of the sky here. This is Tumon Bay during an outrigger canoe race in October 2008.



I'd say that's pretty awesome, particularly since I spent over three years biking in this mess in Sanlågu. Locals, that is what I would call air that is neither clean nor fresh. You can ask all of the accumulated particulate matter in my lungs.





(Thanks to Creative Common license users Ben Amstutz and Al Pavangkanan.)