Down the shore, a few days before, the boats were filled with our Future screaming “Hut!” and “Ho!” urging their canoes in front of the other. On this afternoon my mini Magas Miku was testing out his Chamorro strength in the lagoon with his “power paddle.” Never mind that he was spinning around in circles.
Eventually he figured out the direction and found his way back to shore.
We have our great Chamorro legends during the time before our discovery. I’m still not sure about that part. Did they discover us or did we discover them? Consider the Chamorro “Pre-Contact” legends. Two chiefs from each village on the island, each wanting to be boss. One chief shows his power. He uproots the coconut tree and shakes it violently like a rag until all the nuts fall to the ground. The other chief, mildly impressed, holds a large coconut in each hand and squeezes gently, grinding the meat without any effort. One on one, they get into the canoe and each paddles in the other direction. The boat snaps in two. They continue in their anger at being outdone, never stopping. That’s right, more power in those Chamorros enough to make CUC’s power plant run, no problem. This was the early version of a power-check.
And so maybe this paddling thing is just as good today. We have so many chiefs and bosses, each who knows what’s best for us. Each one has plenty of power in their hands. Metgot. So let’s have a “Magas Challenge” at the beach shore across Ada Gym. We’ll sit in the middle of the canoe. We the “little people” who have no power. The Magas’ on each end. First one to get us to the other end of the island wins and becomes our Magalahe! Let’s have them show us the power like the great Chamorros of the past. They can shake all the coconuts from the trees to feed us. They can walk into the lagoon and club the fish all day to feed us. Need water? Our Magas can harness the clouds and beat down the water. Power for your computer? Our Magas can crack open the land and give us geothermal power. They give us power because they are powerful. If they are so great, make it happen please.
Need latte stones to build our houses? No problem. Call your local Magas. Have to get to Rota for that next family reunion? No need for Freedom Air. Call the Magas and he can carry you on one arm and jump us over the water in time for the kelaguen binadu in Songsong Village. By sea, if you wish, one strong stroke from his power paddle and you’ll be pushing the Poker Machine buttons at the Tinian Dynasty in no time. So powerful. So metgot. Wow.
And so if we are in the middle of the boat with Magas’ who don’t like each other, who cares. If the boat breaks and a few of us drown in the process? Sorry Ha. It is all about the Magas. The Magas up on Capital Hill are so metgot. They are so smart. They know what is good for us because they say so. We don’t need to work 80 hours when we can do with 70. The Magas will provide. Remember? They promised that they could take care of us. They said they know everything. In the House of Magas you have the “Mas Magas.” These are the Big Boys. They have more power in their pinky than David Gulick and his crew. Our Magas know everything.
Everybody wants to be the “Super Magas.” That is, until you take away their titles. You take away their paddles. Until we say they are no longer our Magas and say, “You are not the boss of me.” At that point, maybe they become matapang or just human, hurting and suffering like the rest of us.
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