Brown Loafers and Island Girl Magic
How often do we pass over meaningful things without knowing that they’re meaningful? How often do we pass by meaningful people in ignorance too? The beauty of our connections are missed too often when we are focused on things that don’t matter—our phones, our anger, our worries, our selfishness. What is the purpose of this moment? Where is it taking you? Who is important here? Why do you need this? Where is it taking me? Why do I need this? Why do we need each other? Why do we need this flower, and this river, and this ocean, and this air, these birds, this whale, this shark, this karabao, and this coconut tree? Why am I crying? Is it because I know I need you and all these things, but I don’t feel certain if you know that you need me back?
Yesterday I picked up a rider on the StrollGuam clock. He was obviously from the states—one of those areas with heavy colonizer settlement, no sun, and definitely a lot of snow. Shiny blue eyes, red faced, with a head of blonde hair so light, it was almost transparent. The portly man wore a blue polo that didn’t match his terrible salmon-colored shorts. He stretched his loafer-covered foot into the car, and clumsily plopped himself on the seat. I said hello, and with no greeting in return he said “Three days on this God-forsaken island, and I know I’m never coming back here. God. I have to be here for three years and the night life sucks.” I felt my ears burn hot with anger, as I heard the clicking of my teeth with the clenching of my jaw. The drive is from beach bar to The Guam Plaza, I thought to myself. I opted to keep my opinions inside.
“Aw, why do you say that?” I asked, faking concern. He went on to complain about that lack of all the amenities and comforts he was used to. “Totally understandable,” I said. “The night life that you’re used to, is definitely not the night life that we provide here. To your standards, our nightlife definitely sucks.” He repeated how much he dreaded the next three years… and I thought about our connection. It takes only six minutes to drive from The Beach Bar to The Guam Plaza Hotel. If I’m stuck at the light for two changes, maybe 9 or 10. I drove a little slower and made sure to honor the yellow light. He scoffed at my choice, but I didn’t mind. “May I offer you possibility in finding the magic that is our island?” I thought he may scoff again, but I heard his hands slap against his thighs, as he exclaimed “YES PLEASE!” I prefaced my response with “This might sound really hippie-dippie,” ‘cause I know that it does—I myself, would have thought so in another time in my life. “… but the key to finding Guåhan’s magic is to connect.” He raised an eyebrow and looked at me like I was speaking in codes. “Connect to everything. The land, the people, the ocean… all of it. You can go clubbing anywhere in the world, where the clubs are better. You can go to malls anywhere in the world where the malls are better. Maybe you’ll be happier here if, instead of making us into what you wish we were, you find ways to celebrate the things that we are.” Drunk and probably a little confused, but he acknowledged me respectfully, and he seemed pensive. As I rolled up to his hotel, I wished him luck and told him that I hope he finds happiness here. He said thank you, reached his hand out to shake mine, and went on his way.
I hope that he finds it, realizes the beauty that is our island, her people, all lands, and the earth’s people. I hope he finds himself, and his light. I could not have gotten here if I honored my anger instead of my light. I could not have told him about the magic here if I didn’t reflect the magic here. We cannot ask people to connect to us if we do not first connect to them. It is hard. It hurts my Chamoru pride… but if I want to live in happier, healthier, better times, I have to be happier, healthier, and better.










