How the Women Saved Guam

 How the Women Saved Guam 

(A Legend from Guam)

Nothing was left to eat.

Children cried from hunger. Their empty stomachs hurt, hurt, hurt as they chewed on scraps of coconut and fish bones.

The taro stopped growing. Even the banana tree hid its red flower, sad because its petals held no fingers of tasty new banana.

The clouds would not drop rain. Wet winds teased, blowing through palm fronds, rattling the withered branches. But the winds only laughed and left swirls of dust, shedding no rain on the thirsty island.

"The spirits are angry," the old woman, the maga'haga, warned. "The people no longer show respect. They take from the earth, take from the sea and give nothing in return. Nothing! No respect for the earth. No respect for the sea, the water or each other. The spirits are angry. Our punishment will come from our selfishness."

The old woman predicted correctly. The people had not taken care of the earth. Now the soil was barren and grew nothing. Water had been wasted. Wells had been emptied and now remained dry.

Suddenly a new danger, a new punishment, woke the people. A rumbling deep within the earth split the night's silence. Harder and harder the ground shook.

"What is happening? What is happening?" The people around Agana Bay ran outside screaming. A hideous crunching sound grew closer. Something was eating the earth right beneath them! Rocks from the high cliffs tumbled down and crashed into the sea.

"Forgive us, Ancient Ones. Forgive us!" the people prayed.

"We will not be forgiven easily. We will not be forgiven until we show we will change our selfish ways," said the older women. They knew they must appease their ancestral spirits, their ante, the spirit people who could stop the drought, the famine, and this island-eating monster.

The men grabbed their spears. "Run to the Men's House. Run for your lives!" they cried. Already a loud "WHOOOO" could be heard. Someone was blowing the Great Triton Shell. "Run to the Men's House. The chief is blowing the Great Shell. Everyone gather!"

The men shoved and squeezed under the tall steep roof. Some stood by the side pillars. Little boys stood on their big brothers' backs and peered in. All the mouths were shouting, "Kill whatever is eating our land!" But no one was listening. Words were thrown like stones at each other. Spears were thrust at the darkness. Feet began stamping.

Outside, women young and old waited, shaking their heads. They listened as the men argued about what to do.

At dawn, once again the earth shuddered. This time the sound was unmistakable. Monstrous teeth were crunching the limestone beneath their feet, biting and chewing, over and over until finally, they stopped. Silence. No one spoke. And then a child screamed. "EEEEE, I see it! A monster! A giant bird fish, huge like a whale. EEEE, it swims toward us."

The men rushed to the shore, pushing past the women. "Yes, there it is!" Everyone could see it, a giant parrot fish, an atuhong, a monster covered with scales blue as the sky, green as fat mangoes and glowing gold like a ghostly sunset.

Slowly the parrot fish swam out toward the reef. It opened its monstrous mouth. The people gasped. They saw how its teeth gleamed white, each tooth bigger than a man's head. Snap! The parrot fish bit off a piece of reef. Then with one flick of its tail, it swam into the sea cave under the island.

The men walked back to the village, their heads bowed in fear. "How can we capture such a giant fish? One snap and we lose our heads."

At the Weaving Pavilion, the women gathered. They waited until all were present, from the youngest maiden with bright eyes that had first seen the monster to the oldest auntie with clouded eyes hidden in deep wrinkles. As the women waited, they wove long strips of pandanus, in and out, in and out. As they wove they began chanting, praying, and thinking.

The women watched and waited, all the time

weaving, weaving.

Their fingers wove ribbons of leaves. 

Their voices chanted prayers of hope while 

Their thoughts wove possibilities.

A monstrous parrot fish was eating their island. It was another punishment sent by the old ones. Their angry spirits had sent the drought and the famine. How could they appease the spirits? What sacrifice was required?

WHOOO! The Great Triton was blown again. Back to the shore raced the men, their bodies glistening with coconut oil. Spears clattered against war clubs. Down to the water they scrambled and leapt into their outriggers. Like a school of flying fish, away they sailed, skimming through the waves and over the reef, following the path of the monster.

The women watched and waited, all the time 

weaving, weaving.

Their fingers wove ribbons of leaves while their 

thoughts wove possibilities.

They sat in a circle, their backs straight, their heads bowed. Their long black hair spilled over their shoulders, flowing together like a net.

They wove through the night. As the sun lifted above the straight-line horizon, they watched for signs of husbands and sons returning from the hunt. They did not see tiny triangles of sails grow larger and larger, bringing their clansmen home. But what they saw they remembered.

From one of the undersea tunnels between Agana and Pago bays, the giant atuhong swam out into the lagoon. It began eating the island. All day the earth shook. All day the monster ate and ate. The monster was destroying the reef and the land just as the people had been because of selfish thoughtlessness. Soon there would be no land left between Agana and Pago, and then-no island, nothing!

"Hurry home," the women chanted. "Hurry home and kill the monster before it devours our island."

Finally, sails appeared on the horizon. Soon the men were climbing out of their canoes. The women told what they had seen and then asked, "Let us help you hunt the monster. Quickly, now before it swims to the tunnel's safety."

The men laughed. "Women cannot hunt. Women only chant and weave. What good is that?"

The men stomped back into the bay with nets and weapons. They surrounded the monster, threw their nets and began to pull.

With one slap of its tail, the giant fish sent bodies crashing into the reef and onto the shore. With its mighty teeth it ripped apart the nets and then darted into the tunnel.

The women watched.

Their fingers threaded pandanus while their thoughts wove ideas. And their hearts prayed. What sacrifice did the spirits want? Like a child searching the sand for a seashell, their thoughts searched for an answer.

The men trudged back to the village dragging their torn nets. The women called, "Let us help you mend the nets and prepare for a new hunt."

The men laughed. "Women, what can you do? Even our maga'lahi chief's great strength is not enough."

The wisest woman, the maga'haga, shook her head. She waited for the men to leave and then spoke. "Stop, rest your hands. Come with me to Agana Spring. We will wash our faces and refresh our hearts. With clear thoughts we will ask for help from our maranan uchan, the skulls of our ancestors."

But when the women arrived at Agana Spring, they found lemon peels floating in the water. The maga'haga knew that only the women of Pago used lemons to scent their hair. This meant that already an opening had been made between Agana and Pago. If the monster kept eating, Guam would soon be gone.

                                        Sunrise - Pago Bay, Guam (Wikipedia Commons, author: amanderson2)

"Hurry, come here to the spring. Encircle the water. I know what our sacrifice must be. Our beauty, our hair. If you are willing to help, bow your head and I shall chop off your hair."

One by one the women walked to the spring, knelt by the cool water, and touched their foreheads to the black rock. The old maga'haga took out her shell knife, gave thanks, and asked for courage. Quickly she held each woman's long hair with one hand and cut with the other.

"Now we will begin a new weaving."

Again the women wove through the night, their fingers flying faster than the fluttering wings of fairy terns. They encouraged each other with songs and stories. Their heads felt strangely light. No long tresses hung down their backs. But to everyone's surprise, their hearts also felt light and full of hope as if a heavy burden had been cut away.

As the starlight began to fade with the morning light, the weaving was finished. "Come, quickly come." The maga'haga gathered up the black net and instructed the women to wait with her at the spring. "Here we will wait. When the atuhong, the slippery one, comes out of the tunnel, we will throw our net over its head and then everyone pull. Pull with all your strength."

The young ones looked up at their mothers, who nodded. "Yes, we can do this. We have woven our courage into one net. The strength of many has become one."

The monster fish swam out of the tunnel. It circled around the women. Faster and faster, closer and closer it swam. With its great jaws wide open, it rushed right at the women!

Snap! Teeth bit into empty air. With one great throw, the women tossed the net over the monster's mouth. "Pull!" yelled the maga'haga. The women pulled as one. Giant teeth tore at the net, but the net held as if filled with magic.

"Pull! Pull up!" urged the old one. The monster's scaly body thrashed the water and its might tail slapped at the women. But the women held on. The spring became muddy with sand, murky with foam. The women began chanting, "Be brave, be strong. Pull!"

The men heard their voices, grabbed spears and clubs, and rushed to the spring. Quickly the monster was dead. Together men, women, and children pulled the giant fish onto land. They gave thanks to their ancestors and then began a chant, a new song about how the women of Agana wove their beauty into a net of courage and saved Guam. As the people sang, they heaped coconut husks around the fish, cooked it, and ate.

At last every stomach was full. As the rain began to fall, the people knew that both the drought and the famine were over. They lifted their faces to the heavens and then nodded at each other. What happened that day, how their island was saved, would be told to their children and their children's children. Remember, show respect. Take care of this island and each other. Only then will this sea and this land be yours and your children's.

Source 

Marianas Island Legends: Myth and Magic 

Nancy Bo Flood 

2001

Pages: 5-11