The changing seasons and becoming manåmko'

I am an Iowan, I was born and raised in Cedar Falls, but my mother is from Guam, and we lived there for a few years when I was in middle school. Living on Guam gave me chance to get to know my CHamoru family and be immersed in CHamoru culture. I enjoyed the warm weather, the ocean, and the beautiful sunsets. But after a while, even as a young teenager, I began to miss the changing seasons. I missed the new beginnings of spring, the melting of the snow and ice and the green returning to the landscape. I missed the warmth of the Iowa summers and watching the corn go from tiny stalks to towering fields. I missed the blaze of color that is Fall in Iowa as the trees went from green to yellow, orange, or red. I even missed winter, I loved playing in the snow, building forts and exploring the frozen creek near our house.

Growing up in Iowa thousands of miles away from my mother’s family in Guam and my father’s family in Jamaica, my parents’ friends became my aunts and uncles. My mom was one of those people who truly loved everyone. As children my siblings and I had close friends who practically lived at our house, my mom treated them like they were her own kids. Many of these ‘adopted’ relatives came and some brought their own children. She was the neighborhood mom and a generation later she became the neighborhood grandmother. She wanted to be called ‘abuelita’ (Spanish for grandmother) but her first grandchild could only say ‘Ipa’ and for 40 years almost everyone knew her that way. In addition to our CHamoru and Jamaican families, my parents built an Iowa family for us.

Just as there are seasons in nature, there are also seasons in life. My mother passed away a few weeks ago at 85 years of age. Since I am the eldest son and occasionally fill in as a preacher in my church, I had the privilege to officiate at both her celebration of life and graveside service. Thought I would be able to make it through the ceremony without breaking up. I was doing OK until my two-year-old grandson saw the casket and started repeating in a loud voice “Ipa, sleeping!” The celebration of life was wonderful, there was as much laughter as there were tears We held the ceremony in Cedar Falls and wondered whether many people would attend since she had moved away 20 years earlier. It turns out that the funeral home chapel was packed, our CHamoru, Jamaican, and Iowa families were well represented.

We spent much of the week with our Jamaican and CHamorru relatives. It was great to spend the time together as an extended family. There were some tears and much laughter and of course lots of good food!

But throughout this time, I have been thinking about how our lives will change now that Ipa is gone. In CHamoru culture elders are held in high esteem. Their wisdom, experience and love holds extended families together. In the CHamoru language the word for elder is manåmko'. With my mother’s passing my siblings and I have become the manåmko' for our branch of the family. It is now up to us to be there for the younger generation. When a couple of my adult children asked whether our extended family would still get together for holidays, I realized that the roles had changed. It is up to us (my siblings and I) to hold the family together. We are supposed to be the ones to provide wise counsel, to comfort, to encourage. It is up to us to pass on the traditions, the values and of course the CHamoru food that is part of our family identity.

Of course, each generation and each branch of a family is different, and it is possible to honor the manåmko' while adding new traditions or modifying old ones. Since my father was Jamaican, our branch of the family has adopted some Jamaican traditions. My wife is from a Midwestern German family so we have adopted some of those traditions as well.

I guess I knew the day would come. It was inevitable that one day I would become manåmko'. I only hope that I will fulfill my role so that when I am gone, my eight children will be equipped to do the same.

David Chung is a Gazette editorial fellow. david.chung@thegazette.com