After I have performed some amateur studies regarding the Chamorro language, I have noticed that a majority of the modern language is composed of Spanish loanwords. Some glaring examples are the numbers we use (Uno, dos, tres, etc.). Let me take you on a quick trip to the ancient Mariåna Islands. {As a quick note, the "å" is pronounced like "ah".
Long before the Spanish colonization of the Mariåna Islands, the Chamorro language thrived in the Mariånas. The Chamorro language, which is claimed by scholars as an Austronesian language, was largely different from its Pacific Islands neighbors. Much like Palau, however, the Chamorro language is considered unique among the Pacific Island languages in that it is not classified as a Micronesian or Polynesian language. Rather, they both make up a unique branch of the Malayo-Polynesian language. Once the Spaniards took over the islands, all of the Chamorro language's unique qualities changed.
Below is a list of the Ancient Chamorro basic numbers in comparison to the Modern Spanish-influenced numbers (do note that in the Chamorro language, the [ ' ] is considered its own character to denote a glottal stop):
1 - Håcha/Maisa | Unu/Una
2 - Hugua | Dos
3 - Tulu | Tres
4 - Fåtfåt (or Fatfat) | Kuåttro'
5 - Lima | Singko'
6 - Gunum | Sais
7 - Fiti | Sietti
8 - Guålo' (or Gualu) | Ocho'
9 - Sigua | Nuebi
10 - Månot (or Manot) | Dies
11 - Månot na gai Håcha |Onse
20 - Hugua na fulu | Bente
21 - Hugua na fulu na ga Håcha | Bente unu/una
100 - Gåtos (or Gatus) | Siento
I am sure the difference is quite noticeable. Note that after #10, the numbers are quite long and difficult to say, getting even longer after 100 or 1000. Would you think that this would be an ideal way of counting in today's fast-paced world? To add, The Ancient Chamorro numbering system is more similar to the Japanese numbering system in that they have basic numbers, numbers for long objects, numbers for living things, and numbers for inanimate things. In addition, the Modern Chamorro greetings are largely influenced by Spanish [do note that I am using the Chamorro spelling] (Adios, Buenas dihas, Buenas tåtdes, etc.).
The Ancient Chamorro also had a 13 month lunar calendar.
1 - Tumaiguini
2 - Maimu'
3 - Umatalaf
4 - Lumuhu
5 - Makmamao
6 - Fananaf/Mananaf
7 - Semu
8 - Tenhos
9 - Lumamlam
10 - Fangualu/Fa'gualu
11 - Sumongsong
12 - Umayanggan
13 - Umagahaf
Another point I wanted to note is that many Chamorro/Chamoru today opt out of learning their native language due to English's stronger influence. I, myself, am not fluent in my native language (a point that I regret). However, there has been a slight resurgence in today's youth on learning their Native Language.
I would like to learn the Ancient Chamorro language and, hopefully, bring the language back. Granted, numbers and an outdated lunar calendar are not exactly good examples to get my message across, but it is a good starting point. Language is a strong part of the Chamorro/Chamoru culture.
I implore Chamorro families/new parents to teach their children the language. Otherwise, the Chamorro language will die out, and we will have one more piece of our history lost.
Monday, July 20, 2015
Monday, May 18, 2015
Puntan and Fu'una: Chamorro Creation Myth
This is a story about the creation of the world through the eyes of the ancient Chamorro people.
At the beginning of time, before there were animals or plants, there was nothing. There was a caretaker of this emptiness. This caretaker was named Puntan. Puntan also had a sister named Fu'una. Together, the siblings ruled this nothingness.
The brother Puntan sensed his time was nearing its end. Dismayed at leaving his sister alone in this empty world, he imagined a way to fill the emptiness. He called out to his sister. As they stood alone in the void, Puntan told his sister of his death and described his plan for creation. Fu'uña looked at her brother and agreed to complete what Puntan started. She would remember each part of his plan from the stars in the heavens, the vast pristine ocean, the feel of the earth, the whispering winds, the softness of plumeria petals, and the freshness of rainfall.
And thus she did. As Puntan's last breath escaped from his body, Fu'una held her brother's body and wailed the woman's first birth song. She lifted Puntan's head upward and let life fill the emptiness. Then, Fu'una plucked out her brother's eyes and flung them into the heavens. His eyes then became the sun and moon.
She pushed her brother's breast higher and higher towards the heavens until it arched across until it became the sky. The drumming of his heart continued to beat the rhythm of night turning into day. And again day into night.
Fu'una rested her brother's back along the bottom of the nothingness. She pounded and tilled until his back became the earth - rich and giving of life. Soon, taro plants sprouted from it, thick and green. Pandanus stood on crooked limbs and grew long slender leaves for mat weaving and wind-catching sails. The first of the coconut trees shook its topknot fronds, surprised to find bees buzzing around the blossoms under each branch.
Fu'una smiled. She picked up Puntan's eyebrows and threw them into the sky. They slid through the warm light of the sun, splitting the brightness into an arch of colors, creating the first rainbow.
Fu'una nodded. All was as her brother instructed.
Then Fu'una began to cry. Her brother was gone as she had known him. His breath and body became the world he had imagined, but she was alone.
She swam with the sharks and followed the whales until she reached a string of lovely islands. She walked their beaches, chased ghost crabs, collected shells, watching tropic birds soar in the sky through the clouds. She laughed as hermit crabs scampered sideways and sea cucumbers spat sand. She watched as fish nibbled on coral, amazed at their colors and shapes.
Her brother had planned well. The earth became a beautiful place, but she was still lonely.
Fu'una stood where the surf rolled back into the sea and thought to herself, "I need people."
Then Fu'una walked into the sea, and there near the southern part of what is now known as Guåhån (Guam), she turned herself into a rock. As the sea crashed over her, she broke into many pieces. Each new stone held her spirit, transforming into a new kind of people. As the great rock of Fu'una dissolved, the grains of sand were carried throughout the world, giving birth to all of humankind.
Soon, men and women filled the earth. Some were not good. They argued and fought. Others fished out the seas, claiming islands as their own. They muddied the streams and trampled the reef. Some cut down the taro, banana, and coconut without replanting, only wasting and destroying.
But there were those that tended the earth, caring for the plants and sharing the fruits and vegetables. To this day, many remember to take the time to watch the surf roll back into the seas while telling their children the Tale of Puntan and Fu'una. Out of love and respect between siblings, the world began.
At the beginning of time, before there were animals or plants, there was nothing. There was a caretaker of this emptiness. This caretaker was named Puntan. Puntan also had a sister named Fu'una. Together, the siblings ruled this nothingness.
The brother Puntan sensed his time was nearing its end. Dismayed at leaving his sister alone in this empty world, he imagined a way to fill the emptiness. He called out to his sister. As they stood alone in the void, Puntan told his sister of his death and described his plan for creation. Fu'uña looked at her brother and agreed to complete what Puntan started. She would remember each part of his plan from the stars in the heavens, the vast pristine ocean, the feel of the earth, the whispering winds, the softness of plumeria petals, and the freshness of rainfall.
And thus she did. As Puntan's last breath escaped from his body, Fu'una held her brother's body and wailed the woman's first birth song. She lifted Puntan's head upward and let life fill the emptiness. Then, Fu'una plucked out her brother's eyes and flung them into the heavens. His eyes then became the sun and moon.
She pushed her brother's breast higher and higher towards the heavens until it arched across until it became the sky. The drumming of his heart continued to beat the rhythm of night turning into day. And again day into night.
Fu'una rested her brother's back along the bottom of the nothingness. She pounded and tilled until his back became the earth - rich and giving of life. Soon, taro plants sprouted from it, thick and green. Pandanus stood on crooked limbs and grew long slender leaves for mat weaving and wind-catching sails. The first of the coconut trees shook its topknot fronds, surprised to find bees buzzing around the blossoms under each branch.
Fu'una smiled. She picked up Puntan's eyebrows and threw them into the sky. They slid through the warm light of the sun, splitting the brightness into an arch of colors, creating the first rainbow.
Fu'una nodded. All was as her brother instructed.
Then Fu'una began to cry. Her brother was gone as she had known him. His breath and body became the world he had imagined, but she was alone.
She swam with the sharks and followed the whales until she reached a string of lovely islands. She walked their beaches, chased ghost crabs, collected shells, watching tropic birds soar in the sky through the clouds. She laughed as hermit crabs scampered sideways and sea cucumbers spat sand. She watched as fish nibbled on coral, amazed at their colors and shapes.
Her brother had planned well. The earth became a beautiful place, but she was still lonely.
Fu'una stood where the surf rolled back into the sea and thought to herself, "I need people."
Then Fu'una walked into the sea, and there near the southern part of what is now known as Guåhån (Guam), she turned herself into a rock. As the sea crashed over her, she broke into many pieces. Each new stone held her spirit, transforming into a new kind of people. As the great rock of Fu'una dissolved, the grains of sand were carried throughout the world, giving birth to all of humankind.
Soon, men and women filled the earth. Some were not good. They argued and fought. Others fished out the seas, claiming islands as their own. They muddied the streams and trampled the reef. Some cut down the taro, banana, and coconut without replanting, only wasting and destroying.
But there were those that tended the earth, caring for the plants and sharing the fruits and vegetables. To this day, many remember to take the time to watch the surf roll back into the seas while telling their children the Tale of Puntan and Fu'una. Out of love and respect between siblings, the world began.
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