Pub Date : 2023-08-05DOI: 10.1353/man.2023.a903824
Kayle Tydingco-Choi
{"title":"Håfa na klasen pålao'an hao?: Rosaline's Story of Womanhood","authors":"Kayle Tydingco-Choi","doi":"10.1353/man.2023.a903824","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/man.2023.a903824","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":40635,"journal":{"name":"Manoa-A Pacific Journal of International Writing","volume":"35 1","pages":"58 - 60"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-08-05","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"47833563","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-08-05DOI: 10.1353/man.2023.a903826
PC Muñoz
{"title":"The Rapture in Reverse","authors":"PC Muñoz","doi":"10.1353/man.2023.a903826","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/man.2023.a903826","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":40635,"journal":{"name":"Manoa-A Pacific Journal of International Writing","volume":"35 1","pages":"63 - 63"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-08-05","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"48065590","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-08-05DOI: 10.1353/man.2023.a903810
Teresita L. Perez
{"title":"Notes from My Backyard","authors":"Teresita L. Perez","doi":"10.1353/man.2023.a903810","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/man.2023.a903810","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":40635,"journal":{"name":"Manoa-A Pacific Journal of International Writing","volume":"35 1","pages":"5 - 6"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-08-05","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"45669208","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-08-05DOI: 10.1353/man.2023.a903808
Jay Baza Pascua
{"title":"Hami Hu Ma'hasso Hamyo","authors":"Jay Baza Pascua","doi":"10.1353/man.2023.a903808","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/man.2023.a903808","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":40635,"journal":{"name":"Manoa-A Pacific Journal of International Writing","volume":"35 1","pages":"1 - 2"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-08-05","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"48959140","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-08-05DOI: 10.1353/man.2023.a903821
Francisco Delgado
Chris Taitano was protesting police brutality in downtown Manhattan, which was exactly the type of thing his family upstate would tease him about—especially because Sam was with him. Sam had a way of getting that kind of reaction from people: like right now, with his extra-emphatic chants of “No Justice, No Peace,” and with his head full of colorful dreads, he was catching them looks from other marchers probably wondering who this strange white dude was. Chris met Sam in college when they shared the mistake of pledging a fraternity. Neither of them made it, but they liked each other enough to become roommates the following year. And liked each other enough to stick around for the years afterward. Sam had introduced Chris to Lindsey, who Chris would eventually marry and divorce, right after college graduation. Sam waved Chris over to the group of people he was standing with at a party and drunkenly flung his arm around him when Chris joined, “This is my boy, Chris! He’s the one from Guam!” “I didn’t actually grow up there,” Chris was quick to correct, not that anyone acknowledged him when he said this. Prior to Chris coming over, Lindsey had been mentioning how her family had gone to Guam on vacation. The topic of the conversation, Chris was told much later, was the strangest places you’ve visited. Sam had become the unwitting star of the conversation when he joked, “Niagara Falls, the Canadian side.” Sam had also introduced Chris to Haley, who Chris started dating after Lindsey. Sam knewHaley from his PhD programwhere she was researching decolonization movements in Native North America. “My dude here’s part Iroquois!” Sam had shared. Haley was researching the Oka Crisis. She was a “settler,” she said, which was the first time Chris had heard that term. “So you’re Iroquois? Which nation?” “My grandmother was born at Tonawanda,” Chris said. “But she was adopted out when she was young. She met my grandfather in the military. My grandfather is CHamoru, who are—”
Chris Taitano在曼哈顿市中心抗议警察的暴行，这正是他在北部州的家人取笑他的事情——尤其是因为Sam和他在一起。山姆有一种方法能引起人们的这种反应：就像现在一样，他特别强调“没有正义，就没有和平”，头上长满了五颜六色的辫子，他捕捉到了其他游行者的目光，可能想知道这个奇怪的白人是谁。克里斯在大学里认识了山姆，当时他们犯了一个错误，承诺要建立一个兄弟会。两人都没成功，但他们彼此都很喜欢，第二年就成了室友。彼此喜欢到足以在以后的岁月里留下来。山姆把克里斯介绍给林赛，克里斯最终在大学毕业后与林赛结婚并离婚。在一次聚会上，山姆向和他站在一起的一群人挥手示意，当克里斯加入时，他醉醺醺地搂着他，“这是我的孩子，克里斯！他是来自关岛的那个人！”“我实际上不是在那里长大的，”克里斯很快纠正了这一点，并没有说当他说这句话时有人承认他。在克里斯来之前，林赛一直在提到她的家人是如何去关岛度假的。克里斯后来被告知，谈话的主题是你去过的最奇怪的地方。当山姆开玩笑说：“尼亚加拉瀑布，加拿大那边。”山姆还把克里斯介绍给了海莉，克里斯在林赛之后就开始约会了。Sam在他的博士项目中认识Haley，当时她正在研究北美原住民的非殖民化运动。“我的兄弟是易洛魁人！”山姆分享道。黑莉在研究奥卡危机。她说，她是一个“定居者”，这是克里斯第一次听到这个词。“那么你是易洛魁人？哪个国家？”“我的祖母出生在托纳旺达，”克里斯说。“但她年轻时被收养了。她在军队里遇到了我的祖父。我的祖父是查莫罗，他们是——”
{"title":"Futures Worth Hanging Onto","authors":"Francisco Delgado","doi":"10.1353/man.2023.a903821","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/man.2023.a903821","url":null,"abstract":"Chris Taitano was protesting police brutality in downtown Manhattan, which was exactly the type of thing his family upstate would tease him about—especially because Sam was with him. Sam had a way of getting that kind of reaction from people: like right now, with his extra-emphatic chants of “No Justice, No Peace,” and with his head full of colorful dreads, he was catching them looks from other marchers probably wondering who this strange white dude was. Chris met Sam in college when they shared the mistake of pledging a fraternity. Neither of them made it, but they liked each other enough to become roommates the following year. And liked each other enough to stick around for the years afterward. Sam had introduced Chris to Lindsey, who Chris would eventually marry and divorce, right after college graduation. Sam waved Chris over to the group of people he was standing with at a party and drunkenly flung his arm around him when Chris joined, “This is my boy, Chris! He’s the one from Guam!” “I didn’t actually grow up there,” Chris was quick to correct, not that anyone acknowledged him when he said this. Prior to Chris coming over, Lindsey had been mentioning how her family had gone to Guam on vacation. The topic of the conversation, Chris was told much later, was the strangest places you’ve visited. Sam had become the unwitting star of the conversation when he joked, “Niagara Falls, the Canadian side.” Sam had also introduced Chris to Haley, who Chris started dating after Lindsey. Sam knewHaley from his PhD programwhere she was researching decolonization movements in Native North America. “My dude here’s part Iroquois!” Sam had shared. Haley was researching the Oka Crisis. She was a “settler,” she said, which was the first time Chris had heard that term. “So you’re Iroquois? Which nation?” “My grandmother was born at Tonawanda,” Chris said. “But she was adopted out when she was young. She met my grandfather in the military. My grandfather is CHamoru, who are—”","PeriodicalId":40635,"journal":{"name":"Manoa-A Pacific Journal of International Writing","volume":"35 1","pages":"40 - 52"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-08-05","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"48965454","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-08-05DOI: 10.1353/man.2023.a903811
Yasmine Romero
Even though their nåna was nearly eight months pregnant, she insisted on preparing their food. Nåna rubbed her belly with one hand, while she upturned the dead, scalded chicken in the other. Her fingers were covered in dried blood and fluids, and she plucked, without hesitation, the bird’s feathers. Leena watched her mother, closely, stepping back and forth. The ripping noise of feathers was in sync with her impatient steps. Leeda, her twin, laughed at nåna’s left side, and said, “just say it, che’lu.” Leena squealed, bringing her hands together in front of her. “I dreamt that we had a brother! There were bicycles, babies, and a cinema we could go to!” Leeda picked at the light hairs of an uncracked coconut, “And?” “We had the whitest, cleanest uniforms to wear, and that Japanese woman who always chases us away wasn’t there.” Leena let out a longing sigh. “We had long, black skirts with white long-sleeved tops that buttoned to our throats. The kind that the older girls wear at that school.” Leeda glanced away from her sister. “We’d just gotten off our bicycles when our baby brother asked if we should call him nii-chan, Thomas, or che’lu.”Nåna leaned forward, pausing in her stripping of the mannok. “What,” she asked hoarsely, “did he look like?” Leena stopped rocking back and forth. She closed her eyes. Leena remembered that she had thought her brother was chubbier in the dream than she had expected him to be. His brown face was round, which made him appear happy at first, but then she had fallen into his deep, dark almost-black eyes, which bore a strange notch in the left eye’s pupil—the notch was the color of seaweed, the bright kind that they used to pull onto the shore before they were told to stay on their farmsteads by the Japanese. Leena opened one eye, “He had the mark.” “Nåna’s mark?” Leeda dropped the young coconut in her hands. Their mother threw her head back, laughing, without warning. Leeda and Leena frowned at the same time.
{"title":"Maga'leena","authors":"Yasmine Romero","doi":"10.1353/man.2023.a903811","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/man.2023.a903811","url":null,"abstract":"Even though their nåna was nearly eight months pregnant, she insisted on preparing their food. Nåna rubbed her belly with one hand, while she upturned the dead, scalded chicken in the other. Her fingers were covered in dried blood and fluids, and she plucked, without hesitation, the bird’s feathers. Leena watched her mother, closely, stepping back and forth. The ripping noise of feathers was in sync with her impatient steps. Leeda, her twin, laughed at nåna’s left side, and said, “just say it, che’lu.” Leena squealed, bringing her hands together in front of her. “I dreamt that we had a brother! There were bicycles, babies, and a cinema we could go to!” Leeda picked at the light hairs of an uncracked coconut, “And?” “We had the whitest, cleanest uniforms to wear, and that Japanese woman who always chases us away wasn’t there.” Leena let out a longing sigh. “We had long, black skirts with white long-sleeved tops that buttoned to our throats. The kind that the older girls wear at that school.” Leeda glanced away from her sister. “We’d just gotten off our bicycles when our baby brother asked if we should call him nii-chan, Thomas, or che’lu.”Nåna leaned forward, pausing in her stripping of the mannok. “What,” she asked hoarsely, “did he look like?” Leena stopped rocking back and forth. She closed her eyes. Leena remembered that she had thought her brother was chubbier in the dream than she had expected him to be. His brown face was round, which made him appear happy at first, but then she had fallen into his deep, dark almost-black eyes, which bore a strange notch in the left eye’s pupil—the notch was the color of seaweed, the bright kind that they used to pull onto the shore before they were told to stay on their farmsteads by the Japanese. Leena opened one eye, “He had the mark.” “Nåna’s mark?” Leeda dropped the young coconut in her hands. Their mother threw her head back, laughing, without warning. Leeda and Leena frowned at the same time.","PeriodicalId":40635,"journal":{"name":"Manoa-A Pacific Journal of International Writing","volume":"35 1","pages":"15 - 7"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-08-05","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"43491010","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-08-05DOI: 10.1353/man.2023.a903809
Jacob l. Camacho
{"title":"My First Time Alone in Ritidian's Cave","authors":"Jacob l. Camacho","doi":"10.1353/man.2023.a903809","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/man.2023.a903809","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":40635,"journal":{"name":"Manoa-A Pacific Journal of International Writing","volume":"35 1","pages":"3 - 4"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-08-05","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"49179141","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-08-05DOI: 10.1353/man.2023.a903828
Peter R. Onedera
“The Chamorros on Guam are at it again. A crop of experts, less than a dozen in all, have decided to spell a word that we’ve used out of habit and tradition and now we have to change it? And yet, the language continues to disappear year after year, can’t they do anything better?” That was a recurring comment heard many times before. It began on Guam and spread throughout the thousands of Chamorros living elsewhere, their population three timesmore than even the island of Guam could boast. And nobody cared. Why should they? The same was said by those from the Commonwealth of the Northern Mariana Islands (CNMI) about Guam. That’s why they’ve specifically excluded Guam in any further attempts at combining efforts to forge one official orthography and chose instead to work separately and on their own. One friend from Tinian noted that the Guamanians wave the white flag against colonialism and continue to denigrate the influence of what they perceive was a remnant of the colonization mentality but what else had they done? The military continued to run amok and to dominate every aspect of life on the island. It began in the early days of the United States dominance by exclaiming sovereignty, and they were pushed to and fro. It became pointless to assert influence. They tried to impress to their children to get out of this oppression. Who was to blame for allowing this? The local leaders? The people who are in the local government? Who? That remained as age-old questions. And what else could be done? Where would we go from here? Many asked that from decades on end that started the last century and on to now. Who are we really? Chamorro, Chamoru, CHamorumean the same thing—the description used in reference to Guam’s indigenous people and those in the Marianas archipelago for thousands of years, and it has withstood time. It will be argued that it wasn’t the original name attributed to them but then no one came up with the simple explanation as to why this became so. The fact that the word described the language that these indigenous people spoke since time immemorial; hence, to use this word, one must be specific in pointing out that it was in reference to the people or to that of their language.
{"title":"The Dilemma of an Official Word","authors":"Peter R. Onedera","doi":"10.1353/man.2023.a903828","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/man.2023.a903828","url":null,"abstract":"“The Chamorros on Guam are at it again. A crop of experts, less than a dozen in all, have decided to spell a word that we’ve used out of habit and tradition and now we have to change it? And yet, the language continues to disappear year after year, can’t they do anything better?” That was a recurring comment heard many times before. It began on Guam and spread throughout the thousands of Chamorros living elsewhere, their population three timesmore than even the island of Guam could boast. And nobody cared. Why should they? The same was said by those from the Commonwealth of the Northern Mariana Islands (CNMI) about Guam. That’s why they’ve specifically excluded Guam in any further attempts at combining efforts to forge one official orthography and chose instead to work separately and on their own. One friend from Tinian noted that the Guamanians wave the white flag against colonialism and continue to denigrate the influence of what they perceive was a remnant of the colonization mentality but what else had they done? The military continued to run amok and to dominate every aspect of life on the island. It began in the early days of the United States dominance by exclaiming sovereignty, and they were pushed to and fro. It became pointless to assert influence. They tried to impress to their children to get out of this oppression. Who was to blame for allowing this? The local leaders? The people who are in the local government? Who? That remained as age-old questions. And what else could be done? Where would we go from here? Many asked that from decades on end that started the last century and on to now. Who are we really? Chamorro, Chamoru, CHamorumean the same thing—the description used in reference to Guam’s indigenous people and those in the Marianas archipelago for thousands of years, and it has withstood time. It will be argued that it wasn’t the original name attributed to them but then no one came up with the simple explanation as to why this became so. The fact that the word described the language that these indigenous people spoke since time immemorial; hence, to use this word, one must be specific in pointing out that it was in reference to the people or to that of their language.","PeriodicalId":40635,"journal":{"name":"Manoa-A Pacific Journal of International Writing","volume":"35 1","pages":"74 - 79"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-08-05","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"49369116","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
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