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By Bonnie and Tom Latino
Columnists

Yap Day Fiesta, 1973: As 40 topless native women, young and old, danced wearing only their handmade green and yellow grass skirts and matching headbands, they also chanted loudly in guttural voices. As they danced, each woman knocked her long bamboo pole against the pole of the woman opposite her. A native man wearing Western dress carried a six-foot length of coconut rope with five flat, eight-inch, white clam shells attached along its length as he walked behind one of the lines of dancers. He singled out one by dragging the shells, which in Yap culture, are a type of money, along her back. The native pageantry, jungle setting and surreal sounds created a wonderfully bizarre scene. Bonnie whispered that she felt as if we had stumbled into a National Geographic documentary.
Then the man selected one woman among the tourists, missionaries, and local women to receive the rope of shells. Startled to receive the unexpected honor and with tears in her eyes, Bonnie thanked him profusely. The bank president leaned over and whispered, “You’re supposed to agree that the woman he touched with the shells is the best dancer.” Bonnie quickly complied. Later, she was stunned when the man selected her to receive the only other length of roped shells he gave out that day.
Yap is most famous for their donut-shaped stone money, which varies in circumference from less than two inches to 13-feet. Centuries ago, these stones were quarried, shaped and transported to Yap from other islands. The value of the stone money was based on the effort and danger involved in preparing and transporting each one by sea to Yap. Although the U. S. dollar is the everyday currency, stone money is still used for traditional and ceremonial purposes. One street, which was a dirt road in the jungle in 1973, was known as “the bank” because varying sized circular stone money lined both sides of the road.
On another of our explorations, we came upon two young native boys walking in the road. We stopped the car and watched them for a minute. They stared intently at us. The two youngest wore only skimpy loin cloths and carried machetes with long blades. Our friend, Robin, wearing a faux grass skirt she had brought, got out of the car and walked cautiously toward them offering pieces of chocolate candy. They happily accepted and allowed us to photograph them.
As we traveled on, we saw a boy and a girl, both dressed in western style clothing. The girl carried a butcher knife and a mango. Major R., Andersen AFB’s eccentric psychologist, got out of the car and walked toward them. The girl cut off a piece of fruit and offered it to him. Nice encounters.
We were interested in learning about Yap’s history, so we asked a friendly native if there was a library. We discovered the only library was a large, old white van that went village to village. Instead, someone directed us to the Yap Museum. At the ramshackle A-frame, thatched roof structure, known as a faluw, the museum director, an elderly bearded man named Raphael Uaag greeted the five of us. Each faluw is historically known as a “Men’s House,” where males in each village literally held court and made decisions for their people. Earlier, we had come across a dilapidated faluw on a lovely beach. Bonnie noted that it was an “… excellent location for a men’s club.”
At the museum, our group of friends sat on the floor as Raphael told us the island’s history from the ancient days through the island’s occupation by the Japanese during world War II. The island is littered with the wreckage of the aircraft used to attack US forces in the nearby Pacific Ocean area. The US bombed the island to destroy the Japanese forces and its aircraft.
Unfortunately, at the time of our visit, Yap was in the grips of a severe drought, a small fact our so-called hotel forgot to mention when Bonnie made reservations. All water was turned off and was only turned on occasionally. On Wednesday afternoon as we walked through the hotel lobby, the front desk clerk informed us that the water would be turned on at 7 p.m. for 30 minutes. That evening before the appointed time, Bonnie and I prepared to rush into our shared bathroom for a shower as soon as the water came on. We turned on the faucet in our room sink so we would know when we had water. We were sure Robin and Woody on the other side of the bathroom were doing the same. None of us had taken a shower since we arrived, and we were going to make sure we got ours! The appointed time came, but no water flowed into our sink. Nor at 7:30, 8:00 or 8:30, at which point we gave up. We were sure the hotel had misled us, so we got dressed and went into town for supper and a drink of whatever we could find. When we got back to our room, we noticed tell-tale water droplets in the sink. Obviously we had missed our showers.
Major R. shared his pint of Jack Daniels whiskey with our group so we could all brush our teeth once or twice a day. We continued our adventures on Yap until Friday when the plane returned to take us back to Guam. We boarded the aircraft tired, dirty, yet happy with our experience. I’m sure no one would have wanted to sit near us, but most of the other passengers were in the same condition. Bonnie wore her ropes with clam shells around her neck like leis and was happy as a … clam. No pun intended. I’m sure.
On our flight back, my travel agent said, “Our next excursion will be to Bangkok, only with a better hotel.”
“I certainly hope so,” I replied laughing.