The KOMPAIRIS

The COVERING DAD

He is my kompairi, my brother-in-law (married to my wife's sister) and my drinking buddy, a father of six girls who all lived together at one point before 3 of them started moving on their merry separate ways. He's an artist (give him a pain brush and he'll pain the world all over, a Uke and he'll dance you till you drop) a fisher-dad, a chef (for any occasion), an occasional "honey do", a scapegoat and a humble man for his family.

We were at his house together on one of our drinking sessions when he started talking about his experience with his wife and children. Julie (his loving wife of 69 years) was at work one day and so Tony decided to do some home cleaning as he was alone at home. He cut the grass in the yard, cleaned up the mess left in their kitchen and cooked up something for his family when they all come back home from school and work before he sludged back on his favorite couch for a flick session.

His daughters came from school, went into the kitchen and got some grub to eat before doing whatever else they wanted to do. The house had been cleaned by Tony so there was nothing left for them to do except maybe do their homework or watch some D.V.D. with him.

Julie came from work later and found dishes piled up in the sink and started yelling "whose dishes are this" but no reply came "do you people think I'm your house-worker here". That of course was all in Carolinian. Because none of their daughters dare claim prize to the mess in the kitchen sink, the reply came from their father "I'm sorry honey, I left them in there to soak"

If that wasn't enough covering for his daughters, came another day when Tony's wife went to use the bathroom and found a used sanitary napkin (KOTEX, TAMPAX-kompairi didn't elaborate) and here we go again-mom yelling whose it was to no reply from her daughters. I nearly drowned myself on beer to kompairin Ton's defense for his daughters (again all in Carolinian) "I'm sorry honey-that's mine. It's that time of the month for me and I totally forgot to dispose of that". Ai adai na famagu'on. Who is to be blamed?

The D.V.D.

He came home for a visit one time and before going back to their house I asked "so what's your agenda" he replied "...go back watch the D.V.D. again". "Which one are you going to watch now" I asked and he replied again "I don't know. I've seen them all but I'll just watch whatever" I asked again "have you seen THE MARINE" only to be replied "lania, seen it 3 times already today and if you haven't seen it, you can just give me 7 bucks and I'll gladly tell you a great plot on it" (Heller!!!!! THE MARINE flick had just been taken off The Movie House's list and my kompairi is already watching it on D.V.D.)

The PAPER

This is about the same thing that happened while my other kompairi and I were heading down to Rota. We were still at the commuter terminal that morning when pairi'n Paul got the mornings paper from a stand at the terminal. He was reading the paper while we waited for our boarding. During our flight to Rota I asked him "par can I see the paper" and he responded "just give me 50 cents and I'll tell you what's in it"

The CAVE

We finally arrived on Rota and on our way down to Songsong Village I asked my pairi'n Paul, "Par, have you been into that cave" he replied "yeah". I asked again "so what's in it" to his reply "give me 5 bucks and I'll tell you"

Man-that's a total deficit on my part had I paid both my kompairi's the tallied amount of $12.50. Do some people really do business this way. I'd like to apply for a business license.

Police Blue-Pers

Larry is such a fun guy to work with. I wouldn't brand him as a workaholic but a work-a-maniac. Our office was situated away from the main office in Susupe so there was only us and hardly visited by the bosses. We can play our music loud so long as you monitor your assigned Police radio for any calls that may come your way. Larry loves working night shifts and that's because there were less hassle to deal-less boss.

I have my own issued Police radio too, one in the vehicle I take home and one portable that I take with me everywhere I go. I was down at the Police Front Desk one night when he was dispatched to a crime scene. Knowing he was out of the office, I headed there and planned to scare him somehow when he returns. An hour passed and he never came back so I called the front desk by phone and asked if he had departed from the crime scene but he was still there processing. It wasn't anything major but Larry is one thorough crime scene processor who takes his time.

I wasn't about to spend another hour at the office waiting for him that night so I thought of how best to scare him even after I've left. I looked around inside the office and got our empty fingerprint powder plastic containers. These containers are round and about the same size as a powdered curry container except it has a twist off lid. I cut off a strip of paper, stapled one end right above the entrance door, rounded the strip of paper around the container which I turned upside down and voila, an instant trap. The lid of the container rested on the top of the door and when one opens it, it drops either to the floor or in this case, on Larry's head. I came back the next morning and there was no Larry in the office but found a note from him together with the container and strip of paper. His note read "Sarge, I think someone is trying to scare us out of this office".

20 for Tars

It was a weekend and not payday so Tars and I decided to go out and just do regular Patrol. The traffic light between the DFS and Hafa Dai Shopping Center along Beach Road Garapan was newly erected. There weren't much vehicle traffic but tourist were all over Garapan. We were heading south when the light turned red on the newly erected traffic light. He brought the vehicle to a stop and kept talking but I had my hundred-hundred vision on something that was on the roadside near the curb to our right. As the light turned green and Tars started to accelerate on the vehicle, the "something" turned out to be a $20. bill.

As soon as I told Tars of what I had just seen on the roadside, he didn't hesitate to flick on the emergency lights, made a U-turn and back on the southbound lane we were again. I was like "Tars, are you crazy. People are going to see and talk about us with your abrupt maneuver". He only laughed with the twenty in his hand and said "we can now go buy us chew".

Bikini inspector

Before any upgrades were made at the Marine Beach, there was nothing there but poor road conditions and the area mostly covered with shrub. We were making a periodic check down there only this time I was driving and Tars riding Shotgun. As we headed down towards the beach area, we observed a male Caucasian walking in the shallow water. Just a bit further down the beach area, the Police Cherokee abruptly sped up with Tars' excitement as he forcefully pushed my right knee forward causing my right foot to push on the accelerator pedal and at the same time "akkay bwe e addeka".

I wasn't aware at first of what he was so excited about until I managed to bring the vehicle to a stop with my left foot on the break. I looked to my left and saw what his excitement was all about. She just up and slowly wrapped herself with a towel. We both were laughing on our way out for both his stupid sudden move and my sudden fear of running the vehicle into the big rocks in front of us from his forceful acceleration. Worse off, we could have made the headlines.

Morgue Duty
Crime Scene Processing wasn't the most interesting job for me but sometimes funny. At one time, Security was heightened at the Governor's House including some Officials and the hospital. Larry had picked me up that night from my house as he needed assistance at the morgue. You know Larry, the scary type. We arrived sometime around 3:00 a.m. and met with the Police Officer posted there at the hospital.

The officer was somewhat a little ambilikeru so he asked if he could tag along with us. We went down to the morgue, found the name of the body tagged on the door to the chiller, pulled it out and prepared it for processing. We didn't take the tray containing the body out of the chiller, instead, we just worked from there.

We weren't there long but the whole time we were there, the chillers would make a knocking noise every five minutes probably when it kicks back in to cool mode or something. The first few times this knocks came, this bugga officer would always jump from one point to another with an occasional "mwaasemwaas" but finally left us when someone knocked on the door and he almost flew into the open chiller with the dead body.

Great Time

I'm not an avid golfer (never was and never will) but there was this tournament once held for the local Law Enforcement on island, I had no golf clubs, no bag, know nothing about golfing but I was put on the list to join. The tournament was two weeks away and that gave me enough time to find (even second hand) clubs for the game. I collected a whole set of irons and drivers. Others had sets of brand name golfing equipment while I had my collection of what I called "Continental" brand. Anyhow, we ended up playing at Coral Ocean in pairs (four altogether) with two others. Tee off time was something like 6:00 a.m. and boy-was I one nervous golfer-to-be.

As some of us stood there watching those who were hitting first, I knew some of them (me included) felt some sort of tension. Lawrence's turn came, he positioned this tiny golf ball on the tee, made his body adjustments, gently brought the head of his wooden club behind his back and swung with all his might. He immediately looked forward toward the fairway to spot the golf ball he'd just hit but everyone of us standing near the mount started running away while Lawrence stood there looking down the fairway when the golf ball he had just hit, came straight down and landed from where he had just hit it off from. A crack of laughter came from everyone and that-I think was the first boo boo that got him "skinned" by his betting opponents.

Knowing I had no previous experience in golfing, I had some on-site coaching from the others. "Take your time, don't let your eyes off the ball, concentrate" and things like that. I took my (long) time, placed the ball on the tee, positioned myself, looked down at the ball, down the fairway, down the ball and down the fairway again thinking to myself "if only I can hit this damn golf ball straight down the fairway, I'll be good to go" but that didn't happen. As I finally swung and looked down the fairway, I saw that white round golf ball flying for the tangangtangang covered area. I was rest assured everything will be okay. I ended up with a triple Bogey.

We were at #7 already and I'm always last to hit for I was not making any pars or anything better than that. This area is somewhat tricky (for me) as everyone had to shoot off over water. Manny made his shot and landed it on the green but the ball won't stop rolling until it got off the other side of the green. Tars made his shot and was about the same as Manny's. Again, Lawrence's turn. I think he used a 7 iron but when he hit the golf ball, it flew forward, hit the rocks in front and came flying back towards where we had parked our golf carts. I think this really pissed him off for he took his club and tossed it into the ocean. My turn came and I just think to myself "it's alright, if I don't make it there, I'll just have to drop". That's just what happened as I landed the ball in the water.

By the time we got to #10, I was feeling a little comfortable because the fairway was a bit wider for my slices. Even my playing partners were telling me to "compensate" for my slices meaning I'll have to position myself facing more to the left in order to place my golf ball in the fairway. This didn't happen on #10 for I positioned myself as everyone else did, hit the golf ball and landed it on the opposite fairway (#18) on the right. While others were hitting westward, I was busy hitting the other direction to get to green #10. I was like going the wrong way on a one way street like I did one time while driving in San Francisco but that's another story.

We all attended the banquet and the talk of the night was all about golf. Golf this, golf that, golf everything. I sat with my golf partners and Lawrence was not one bit happy of his game results. I wasn't either but at least I played in the tournament and now at the banquet to have a great time with my friends and see who gets the most prize(s). I think Tars won a set of irons and Manny with a brand new Driver. I think Lawrence won a new golf club bag. I didn't think of winning anything but I did-for the worse score. Twenty dollars was more than enough to buy chew.

I played on a couple of times after that until I started going with my wife on her Friday night bowling leagues and eventually got recruited to play in their team. Some of those whom we've played a game of golf together would ask "are you still golfing" and I would only respond "I think I like bowling better because I don't have to go looking for the ball, it comes back to me".

BLOG SPOTTING

Today's Friday and I found out some things on blogging. Like for instance, I got a hit on Northern Mariana Islands and came across a list of bloggers. Gus Kaipat with his interesting articles on Beautify CNMI and the occassional laughing style in writing. He's cool. Found out CNN-Saipan Style there on the same list. Too bad this (CNN) network doesn't feed us updates on matters pertaining our day to day activities. Come on Carol's New Network. Give us something new. I'd play tag with you if and only if Gus will give me the green light. And there's those cool pictures posted too by Tony Peters on his blog site. Keep them coming.

Okay now, gotta go. The laundry is screaming for a little detergent or (maybe) some Clorox. I don't know. Just gotta go check because man-this is tumble dry, I think.

The Days

Born, raised and probably get much younger every passing day on this Island called Seipel (that's Saipan for those who don't really know much Carolingual). I was not hatched yesterday but I can tell a few things about the other day and the days before that.



I'm originally from Chalan Kanoa (C.K.) 4 where I grew to love the "ration" days. The more population in a single family, the more truck load of goods you'll get-sometimes two. That was no problem for any of us within the area because we were all family and boy-when those days come, my cousins and I hit them hard like ration junkies.



My late grandma Leighamaal loves fishing. She would go with others (rest their souls) like nana Ketta, Ellen Muscle, nana Delores Tanga and nana Kamin-just to name a few. Their favorite fishing spot is located at the northern Sea Plane ramp in Lower Base situated behind the present power plant. Armed with a slim 15-20 feet Japanese bamboo pole, tabi and a homemade fish box (made out of a mesh screen) and kept afloat by empty plastic Clorox bottles, one on each of the four sides, the fish are kept alive until they return to the beach where the fire would proudly be blazing for some good bar-b-qued fresh fish. My uncle Ray's "Tiger" favorite part. There's always pa-lenty fish for the family.

And if they're not out fishing with their bamboo fishing poles, Nana would always call on me and my older cousin Patricio (Pat) to be her "two-not so mean paddling machine" for her wooden boat. Both Pat and my paddling output don't even come close to equal an 8 horse power outboard motor but my late uncle Saturnino's boat was equipped with a 20 HP Johnson motor. His boat was much bigger and he'd team up with his loving wife (aunt Innes), his late cousin (uncle Tito) and his loving wife too (nana Merr Wa-ke). They'd sometimes toll us in nana's boat to Garapan before they go their separate ways, we'll fish the whole night (Friday) until the next morning when we'll finally get back to the beach in C.K. 4. We didn't have coolers back then so we just kept our catches under the wooden floor boards in the boat where water always seemed to find it's way to settle. By the time we reach the beach and had the boats along side each other, the flopping of our catch from underneath the boards would always get my two uncles attention followed by their shouts of "diabang, diabang" thinking they had the best catch but upon approaching Nana's boat, the agony of defeat settles in them. Not only did we had more catch, we had bigger fish than they did. Their excuse for not having a better catch is always followed by another excuse. Sorry Pops and thank you Nana for the fishing lessons and the few tricks I now have up my sleeves.

A couple of years later, I'm paddling up my Stingray bike to Oleai almost every weekend via Texas Road. My cousin's John and Stanley is all the reason (not) why I always landed in Oleai. We'd go shoot some hoops at the San Jose Church basket court (that's if the Ol' Aces are not practicing) or we would be gathering fire wood as our homes were not equipped with either electric or gas stoves in those days. Uncle Pete "M-Boat" is a BIG and I mean B-I-G, not only big as in tall but also big all around ways. It is from him that we learned a little about cars and it's mechanisim. He would wake John and I early in the morning to check the car battery fluid, radiator and brake fluid, all the basic hands on and this is something routine for John. If uncle Pete's truck had other problems that he thinks it can be fixed, John and I are it but he coaches us in what to do to fix the problem. Thank you Tata Peteru for taking me on my very first trip to the Northern Islands. It was quite an experience.

Saipan is my home. I've traveled to other places and whenever I do, I'm always homesick and thinking what friends and families would be doing. The longest I've been away from home was three years. That may not be long for some but it was for me. A month away from home is long enough that anticipation starts setting in on me and the sight of home is always a relief. Having arrived home from one of these short trips, I was admiring my wife's collection of flowers. Although I had been away only for a couple of weeks, I thought the flowers had grown much, heck, I thought our puppy "Judge" had grown too-I just had to pet it. No wonder why everybody's saying "there's no place like home".

Saipan:

A dot on the globe surrounded by water where it's always summer and populated by a mixture of different but friendly nationalities. An island mostly covered by green with an array of brilliant speckles here and there. Speckles of hand waves and different tongues that greet you daily with a warm Hafa Dai, Olomwaay, Obo-saiyo, Ni-hao and others I still need to master. Diba?