![[Chamorro with the native musical instrument, 'Billibutugun'; circa 1927. ]](img/pg30_1.jpg)
Before I left the States, several naval officers kidded me about red hair. They told me that everyone with red hair was made a king upon reaching Guam. Of course I thought that it was mere buffoonery and I laughed it off. When I got to Guam, all the natives would stare at me in wonder. Whenever I sat down outside a doorway, the children would gather around with a very dumb and astonished look upon their faces. The real test came when I commenced a teacher’s career. The Chamorroettes would not study, they would just look at my hair. My gaudy locks were better than any written passport known. I walked about the streets after dark and all of the natives I passed would suddenly shut up. I sometimes wonder what I ever did to deserve red hair....
The natives play a queer instrument called a “Billibutugun.” It is about seven feet long and has a piece of baling wire strung across it. They hold the wire taut by the spring of the stick and place the cocoanut, which is nailed to the center of the stick on their stomachs. It is said that the larger the stomach, the better the tone. Maybe so, I heard a fellow play “Ain’t gonna rain no more” on the thing. Very “tin-panny,” but quite recognizable.
Our houseboy, “Jesus” claimed that he had seen the great ghost, “Tadamona,” so I told him that I’d go down to Missionary (or Siesta) Point about midnight some night just to see if I could see him. I was half kidding and half in earnest. Should one live amongst people for a couple of months with little more to do than study the people, they might understand just how the firmest of scorn may be shaken.
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