around the perimeter; others are sitting on the couches encircling a stage with a large screen karaoke machine. A woman is onstage singing along in with the karaoke system. Words scroll across the screen as she attempts to keep up. It looks vaguely like Spanish or Tagalog but it must be Chamorro. Two men and a woman are sitting on the stage encouraging the singer with loud clapping and cheering. Others are singing along. There are several servers with trays of drinks. Across the room I see Nestor sitting on a couch talking with a group of people so I walk over and take a seat. Nestor is talking about his workouts with Fernandez and the great time he had in Honolulu. He glances over and nods at me. Alan, the government security guard and driver is sitting across from me and he also nods. “Whas up? How you like Guam?” he asks taking a sip of beer. I don’t want to tell him that I feel awkward. “So far, I really like it. Mr. Saru has a beautiful home” I say.
‘Yah, yah, Saru’s get the best of everything. You lucky you work with Mr. Saru” Alan says, putting the beer bottle to his mouth and looking around, scanning the room, keeping an eye on everyone. I can’t tell if he is actually drinking the beer or using it as a prop. He takes a swig of beer, swallows hard, cringing like someone who doesn’t regularly drink beer and then continues scanning the room. Finally he looks back at me and continues telling me again that I am lucky to work for Mr. Saru.
“Saru family owns most the commercial property on the island. Mr. Saru can get anything. You know? He can do anything he wants too. Mr. Saru is pahree with Carl Segura, the governor.”
“What is a pahree?” I ask.
“Pahree is one best friend, like family but not a real brother. Mr. Saru is pahree with the governor so he can do anything.”
That revelation answered the question that I had since getting off the plane. I first met Alan and his coworker, DJ, about an hour ago, when I walked off the plane. They were waiting to greet us at the airport. I could have predicted the huge Hafa Adai Welcome to Guam sign as I walked off the jet bridge, but seeing Mr. Saru standing between two men, both large islanders wearing police badges on lanyards that hang over brightly colored aloha shirts was a bit unexpected. Mr. Saru introduced me to both men. DJ is a five foot ten, three hundred pound gorilla with a badge and a gun. Alan is a five foot four, two hundred plus pound meathead also armed and shielded. Mr. Saru explained that DJ and Alan are security officers for the governor of Guam. Alan is a full time security specialist and both men are SWAT police officers. They met us at the airport to provide security and an escort back to Mr. Saru’s house.
At the airport, the line of people waiting to pass through customs was long. I had figured on an hour wait but as we approached the line, DJ kept walking towards the front gate. Mr. Saru was following directly behind him. Nestor was pushing one cart of luggage while I followed him pushing the other. Alan was walking behind us, bringing up the rear. At the gate, two customs officers came over. They said something to DJ and then one of them used a key to unlock the gate and he held it open for us. Something didn’t seem right and then Alan pointed at Nestor and me and then said “cocaine express coming through!” The customs officers stopped our carts and began laughing. Alarmed, my first thought was that maybe I was only brought here as a mule to carry cocaine into Guam. Before I could blink Alan patted me on the back and told me they were joking. It was all a joke. But the customs agents did let us walk through without being screened. They didn’t check anything.
“I can’t believe we just walked through customs without getting checked” I said but Nestor had ignored me and kept walking towards the parking lot. I started to wonder if Mr. Saru was really trafficking drugs. Parked in the passenger loading zone I saw a line of black SUV’s with blue police lights on the dashboards. DJ held the door for Mr. Saru to get into the back of the first SUV. Alan motioned for me to follow him to the second SUV. He must have seen the look of shock on my face because he told me not to worry, that we were going to Mr. Saru’s house. Nestor walked down to the third SUV and waved to the driver. I wondered if that was normally how they travel and then I was startled by the wail of a police siren and the roar of acceleration as JJ drove away with Mr. Saru. Alan was more subtle, only using the lights and siren to run through the traffic light at an intersection. I had been nervous the entire drive and I couldn’t help but think about how I was alone, riding in the back of a government SUV with a SWAT officer as the driver and I have unwittingly violated the federal airport customs rules. I was on an unfamiliar island, on my way to, who the fuck knows where, maybe a fiesta with my new boss, maybe to jail for trafficking narcotics. Alan drove us into a private community and explained that the Saru family owns the property and each home is owned by a member of the Saru family. He continued to explain that Mr. Saru is the grandson of Tarugu Saru one of the first multi-millionaires on Guam. It’s the same story Mr. Saru told me about himself, but I nodded and smiled as though I was hearing it for the first time. When he finally stopped in front of the house I became more anxious. Even now this all seems too surreal. I have been anxious since I got on that damn plane. Fuck, I wish I could go home and go to bed. I wish I was back at home with Emiko. The girl who was singing earlier just walked over and sat down next to Alan on the sofa across from me.
“Alan, introduce me” she says, smiling at me.
“Eh, Marissa, we talking, you get introduced later.” Alan says to her.
“Hi” she says, extending her hand to me. “I am Marissa Colpio” she says as we shake hands. “So you are from Hawaii and you are moving here to manage Tropics Gym?”
Marissa Colpio says that she grew up in Baza Gardens, Guam near the village of Yona. “It’s pronounced Zhoad-nyah.” She says, sounding out both syllables. Marissa attended the Academy of Our Lady of Guam high school. After high school she moved to the United States mainland for college, graduating from University of San Diego. She then enrolled in the University of Hawaii MBA program and moved to the island of O’ahu. She has been talking at me non-stop for the past ten minutes. She is still talking at me now. “But I plan to move back home after I finish school, I really miss it here” she says.
According to Marissa, the Saru family is one of the most powerful families in all of Micronesia. They own property on Guam, Saipan, Tinian and Rota and they are friends with the governor. Marissa is a cousin of Mrs. Saru and a member of Tropics Gym. I asked her about the business of the gym, if she thought the gym was doing well but she turned the conversation to Chamorro food, karaoke and what she considers the basics of life on Guam.
“What about the snakes? Are there a lot of snakes? I ask.
She is practically choking on her drink, snorting a laugh and waving her hands in front of her face.
“No ways, you did not just ask me about snakes” she says. “That’s too funny, yah, we have brown tree snakes on Guam but you never see any. Not unless you go out into the jungle. Why do all Hawaii people think that Guam is covered in snakes? It’s so stupid.”
“That’s a relief” I say. “I heard that snakes are everywhere, slithering into houses, hiding in toilets, strangling babies and pets.”
“Ai adai that is so not true!” she says.
“Really?” I ask.
“Really Really!” she says.
“I guess I just heard a lot of rumors.” I say. She looks at me confused.
“You from Hawaii, yah?” she asks.
“No. Well, yes, I am moving from Hawaii but I am originally from California” I say.
“Yah, I thought maybe you was a mainlander. Haole, that is why” she says.
I nod and smile at Marissa. She just called me a haole, the island slang for a Caucasian but I think
