WHEN I moved to Saipan 15 years ago, Taeko Castro was one of the first people I met. It is no exaggeration to say I could not have survived without her. She taught me so much about islanders and life on Saipan and even about myself. She was an extraordinary woman with an island-sized heart. Taeko passed away recently and I wanted to revisit this column for her.
Taeko came into my life soon after her husband Gus passed away. He was a legend on Saipan who I never had the privilege to meet, and according to those who knew the couple best, Gus was a tremendous man in his own right, but she supplied the energy that kept him going through many difficulties. The two of them brought hope and joy to many islanders over the years.
I used to go to Taeko’s house in Gualo Rai and ask her for stories of Gus. Her eyes lit up and she could not suppress a girlish smile, as if she shared secret information with him alone and she was only going to let me in on a portion of it, which I was satisfied to have. I would pluck several tangerines from the massive tree in her front yard and she would start talking, occasionally glancing up and away as if looking for the man himself. Sometimes she would stop in the middle of a sentence and wink at me as if to say, “I should not have revealed that.” I wish I would have gotten to know Gus personally. I know all his children and many of his grandchildren and they are a fine clan.
I recall a story from her childhood, growing up on Palau during the Second World War. As she picked mangoes a group of airplanes flew overhead. They started dropping bombs as her mother yelled for her to hide under the leaves because she wore a red dress, and the planes might target her. She recalls what felt like an eternity, trying to cover herself in dirt, pulling over leaves in order to disappear into the landscape. Many Palauans died that day, and Taeko learned a lesson about staying out of harm’s way.
Taeko was at her best when discussing people and relationships, and I found myself going to her often when facing a thorny issue. Having loved her husband until death did them part, she understood loyalty, honesty, and commitment and practiced them. She had a way of impressing those values on her listeners; you found that you do not want to let her down. I have applied her counsel in my own marriage and when helping others in theirs.
Two of my most cherished photographs are of Taeko. In one, she is standing with her best friend, Tomasa Mafnas, sharing a laugh under a coconut tree like two schoolgirls. In the other, Taeko is leaning against a post and smiling lovingly. I had gone to her house to seek some advice and maybe hear a story about the old days when she came outside with a towel around her neck. I guessed that she had just washed her hair or was soaking up perspiration. Something about the way she stood encouraged me to ask if I could take her picture, which she allowed. I am so glad I have those two pictures.
Something in her eyes told you this is no ordinary woman. She lived a long, productive life and was happy with who she was. She and Gus had many children who in turn had many more, so quite a few people called her Grandma. It is people like Taeko, Gus and Tomasa that make me wish we lived forever.
One morning I stopped at Taeko’s house for a story, and she asked if I could pick some of the tangerines from the top of the tree. Because they were so high, they rarely got picked and fell to the ground rotten. She handed me a pruning pole and I climbed on the roof of her house to get a better reach. From there I saw there were hundreds of tangerines; this was not going to be in and out. No worry. I picked fruit for several hours while Taeko stood below, sharing tale after tale of her adventures in life. So many people loved Taeko.
BC Cook, PhD lived on Saipan and has taught history for 20 years. He currently resides on the mainland U.S.
BC Cook
