Anne Perez Hattori

'The Cry of the Little People of Guam': American Colonialism, Medical Philanthropy, and the Susana Hospital for Chamorro Women, 1898–1941

The Susana Hospital opened its doors to the island's native Chamorro women and children in 1905, following a successful fundraising drive by American navy wives whose husbands governed Guam. This paper examines the history, as it unfolded at the Susana Hospital, of Chamorro women as midwives, expectant mothers, and nursing students. As the physical space in which western and native notions of maternal health collided, it became a contact zone where mothers and midwives produced a hybridised version of obstetrical care, in the process disrupting colonial authority by rewriting the meanings of programmes designed for their 'benevolent assimilation.'

The Susana Hospital, Guam's first hospital for women, opened its doors in 1905 following a successful fundraising drive by American navy wives whose husbands governed the island. The Susana was represented as a magnanimous gift to Chamorro women, who were referred to in the hospital's fundraising campaign as 'the little people of Guam.' It represented the best that modern American medicine had to offer Chamorro women at that time, and navy wives, governors, and doctors anticipated that it would thrive as a birthing centre for pregnant Chamorro women.¹ This article examines the history of the Susana Hospital and the interactions with Chamorro women as midwives, expectant mothers, and 'native nurse' students. As the physical space in which western and Chamorro notions of maternal health collided, the Susana Hospital became what Ashcroft, Griffiths, and Tiffin describe as a 'contact zone' where 'new transcultural forms ... [were] produced by colonization.'² Chamorro mothers and midwives, or pattera, received lessons in modern medical practice, often under conditions and in programmes in which they were disparaged and undermined. Yet despite the new coloniser's attempts to eliminate traditional gynaecological practices, and the sometimes violent and noisy clashes that emerged between coloniser and colonised in this battle over Chamorro bodies, western practices did not entirely displace existing Chamorro ones. Rather, as this article will demonstrate, practices were selectively appropriated and built into the patteras' regimen, resulting in a hybridised Chamorro-American version of maternal care. In the process of hybridising two distinct patterns of health care, Chamorro pattera effectively ruptured American naval attempts to establish hegemony over the newly-colonised subjects in Guam. This disruption of colonial power validates Homi Bhabha's affirmation that 'the effect of colonial power is ... the production of hybridization rather than the noisy command of colonialist authority or the silent repression of native traditions.'³

A glimpse into Chamorro healing traditions

The Chamorro people of the Mariana Islands had already endured more than two hundred years of Spanish colonialism when the United States asserted its colonial domination over Guam in 1898, following its victory in the Spanish-American War.⁴ American president William McKinley sent the navy to claim and colonise Guam as part of the war's spoils and, from 1898 to 1941, the island would be governed by the United States navy, with the indigenous Chamorros attaining neither political nor civil rights under the military's autocratic rule. Upon arrival on the island, navy medical doctors encountered not simply a new populace whose bodies they would supervise, but also a competing tradition of herbal healers—typically elders, who might be either male or female. These traditional healers were referred to in pre-colonial Chamorro society as makahna, and then as suruhanu and suruhana after Spanish conquest of the Mariana Islands in the late 1600s. They formed a 'class of professional herb doctors' who, along with the pattera, managed the health-care needs of Chamorros throughout the Mariana Islands.⁵ Historical writings uniformly concur that pre-colonial makahna were the 'spiritual leaders in ancient Chamorro society,' who derived their authority not only from their position as 'skilled herbalists'⁶ but also 'because of their ability to communicate with the ante (spirits of ancestors).'⁷ Therefore, because of their ability to heal both natural and supernatural illnesses,⁸ 'makana were held in high esteem.'⁹

Their history is somewhat shrouded, however, both by deliberate secrecy and a dearth of oral and written historical documentation. The few sources that do exist provide an insightful glimpse into the Chamorro medical tradition.¹⁰ Father Diego Luis de Sanvitores, the Spanish Catholic missionary responsible for establishing the Mariana Islands colony in 1668, observed, for example, 'Since they have few ailments they know few medicines, and treat themselves with a few herbs, of which experience and necessity have taught them the uses and virtues.'¹¹ Indeed, as the 1700 account of Father Charles le Gobien concurs, 'It is rare to find a sick person among them, and when one is found, he is cured easily with herbs of which they know the power.'¹²

Histories note the conspicuous role of women as healers, particularly in the production of herbal medicines and the field of midwifery. One French account from the 1800s, in fact, claims that the production of medicines was 'the province of women.'¹³ American anthropologist Laura Thompson, in her 1940 publication Guam and its People, contributes to this analysis, indicating that in the capital village of Hagåtña the suruhana consisted 'mainly of women over fifty.'¹⁴ Yet pre- and early-colonial historical sources are thus far silent on what might actually be the single largest collective body of Chamorro women in the health profession—the midwives or pattera.¹⁵ Recently scholars such as Karen Cruz and Christine de Lisle, however, have begun the task of documenting their twentieth-century history.

Oral histories reveal that the midwives were an exclusively-female group, who received the title of pattera only after apprenticing extensively with an elder aunt or other close family member who was a practising pattera. In addition to the demanding task of delivering babies, pattera performed a variety of prenatal and postnatal functions, making their rounds in the village to examine and monitor the progress of expectant mothers.¹⁶ Many pattera prepared their own herbal medicines and administered frequent massages to relieve back pains.¹⁷ After caring for the mother throughout her pregnancy and then delivering the child, pattera also provided 'medical and practical advice for the first few days of the newborn's life.'¹⁸

The existing oral legacies and archival documents concur, therefore, that Chamorro health-care practitioners, such as the pattera, makahna, suruhanu, and suruhana, were both males and females of high social status, respected for their services to the community, and for their powers over nature and the supernatural. When the United States navy assumed control of Guam in 1898, and until their reign ended in 1941 when the Japanese occupied the island during World War II, these Chamorro health-care providers were indeed among the island's formidable leaders. For the United States navy, establishing colonial power over Guam thus entangled them in a power struggle, not only in the political arena, but also in the health-care field as they attempted to undermine and usurp the authority of these competing figures.

American colonialism as benevolent

American colonial rule in Guam took the form of a military autocracy, with the United States navy assuming complete control of all island affairs. From the outset, United States political and military leaders represented American colonialism in Guam as a form of benevolence. Indeed, in President William McKinley's 'Instructions for the Military Commander of the Island of Guam' of 12 January 1898, which authorised the United States military's conquest of the island, he called upon the navy 'to announce and proclaim in the most public manner that we come, not as invaders or conquerors, but as friends.'¹⁹ He further directed them to 'win the confidence, respect and affection of the inhabitants of the Island of Guam ... by proving to them that the mission of the United States is one of benevolent assimilation.'²⁰ This notion of colonialism as an act of friendship and benevolence, rather than a process of disenfranchisement and dispossession, can also be read in the statement from Guam's first naval governor, Captain Richard Leary, who declared his intention to protect 'the well-earned reputation of the American Navy as champions in succoring the needy, aiding the distressed and protecting the honor and virtue of women.'²¹

To the navy officers who ruled over Guam, one method of achieving McKinley's mission of 'benevolent assimilation,' and Leary's directive to 'succor the needy' and 'protect the honor and virtue of women,' was through the administration of health-care programmes to the Chamorros. This particular philanthropic project formally began in 1905 when navy Governor George Dyer officially established the Department of Health and Charities, directing it to assume 'general supervision of the public health and sanitary interests of this Island.'²² Indeed, the very naming of this agency conveyed the notion of Chamorros as beneficiaries of American colonial philanthropy.

As well as benevolence, other motives also informed the navy's interest in Chamorro health. As the navy surgeon-general expressed in 1907, 'The natives ... are entirely dependent for medical and surgical relief upon the navy. This service, however, is not a mere charity, but constitutes a legitimate charge in the health interests of the naval community.'²³ Similarly, Rear Admiral E.R. Stitt advocated the necessity of 'introducing modern ideas of medicine' to the native Chamorros so that 'they would no longer be a menace to those who would be forced to come in contact with them.'²⁴ These statements remind us that the so-called medical altruism of the United States navy toward the Chamorros served another, very different, purpose—that of keeping the Americans on Guam safe from then-unfamiliar tropical diseases that Chamorros might be harbouring.

In addition to the fear of contagion, economic factors also ostensibly motivated military doctors to extend medical care to native peoples. In 1904, a year before he established the Department of Health and Charities, Governor Dyer commented:

It is therefore incumbent on us for our self protection and efficiency to give the natives such care as they are unable to get for themselves, [and] to see that they are kept healthy and free from contagion. These people must be taught, at once, to help themselves in ways to make themselves useful to us ... but their preliminary steps must be guided by us.²⁵

Unhealthy Chamorros, therefore, represented at least two major problems for the navy: first, as a menacing source of possible contagion; and secondly, as an unreliable, and therefore inefficient, source of labour to meet the navy's needs. The polarities of colonial medicine as friendship and benevolence or control and exploitation illustrate Leela Gandhi's notion of the 'central paradox at the heart of imperialism: namely, the profound discrepancy between the inflated claims of the civilizing mission and the harsh reality of colonial violence.'²⁶

American colonialism as assimilationist

In addition to carrying out the 'benevolence' of President McKinley's orders, the navy was also instructed to assimilate the Chamorros, and this part of the task was typically referred to as 'Americanization' or 'modernization.' Here again the medical department played a focal role. In 1921, Governor Ivan Wettengel explicitly articulated this connection in his comment that 'the US Naval Medical Department has been able to greatly improve the health and sanitation of the island, which is one of the most important factors in the civilizing and the Americanization of these primitive people.'²⁷

A cartoon in the July 1912 issue of the navy-published Guam Recorder reinforced this notion of health care as an important aspect of the assimilation process.²⁸

Figure 1: 'More Like his Dad Every Day,' Guam Recorder, July 1912. (Source: Political Status Education Coordinating Commission (PSECC), Hale'-ta: I Ma Gobetna-ña Guam. Governing Guam: Before and After the Wars (Hagåtña, Guam: PSECC, 1994), 69)

Published with the caption 'More Like his Dad Every Day,' the cartoon reduced the Chamorro people to the image of a single dark-skinned child, juxtaposed against the patriarchal American symbol, Uncle Sam. In the cartoon, the item 'hospitals' is placed at the top of a list of projects that might elevate the Chamorros to the level of adult 'advancement,' reinforcing the importance of health issues in the assimilation campaign.

This cartoon is just one of the many examples of the infantilism of Guam as a child in need of basic instruction, and represents part of a larger discourse that framed the Chamorro people in ways useful to the naval government. Yet the reactions and responses of Chamorros tell their equally-important side of the health story. If the navy was intent on portraying the Chamorro people as diseased and child-like, others such as the pattera were mimicking the navy's self-promoting rhetoric—but for different, and uniquely cultural and personal, reasons.

Disparaging the Chamorro pattera

From the onset of navy rule in 1899, the pattera bore the brunt of the navy's critical gaze. As in the continental United States, the midwives of Guam were represented as almost uniformly premodern, antiprogressive, and uncivilised. Several of the pattera's practices, including the burying of the afterbirth and umbilical cord under the family house to prevent the child from ever straying too far from home,²⁹ were labelled as ignorant superstitions, antithetical to the presumably-legitimate forms of knowledge presented in science textbooks and medical laboratories.³⁰ Government reports and medical papers regularly raised the issue of age, insinuating the elderly pattera were debilitated. The 1906 Annual Report of the naval governor, for example, described the midwives as 'incapacitated by age,'³¹ while a 1914 account in the American Journal of Nursing described them as 'dirty old women.'³² Even the navy surgeon-general joined in, claiming in his 1910 Annual Report, 'The present midwives are a most incompetent lot, age and ignorance being apparently the requirements.'³³ This presented a conflict with Chamorro values, however, since age is ranked above other factors, including clan, class, and gender, in determining social status.³⁴ Thus navy efforts to privilege young medical authorities over older Chamorros not only provided challenges to health-care practice, but also tension in the negotiation of terms of cultural authority under the new colonial order.

Navy reports alleged that the elderly pattera jeopardised the very survival of the Chamorro population: one account proclaimed a 'deplorable rate of mortality among mothers and infants.'³⁵ Other reports, in the years 1901 to 1902, alleged that there were many deaths among infants, although health records never substantiated these claims.³⁶ In fact, navy archival documents provide scant evidence of midwife malfeasance. Only the accounts from 1908, 1913, and 1914 report on pattera-delivered deaths, in these years numbering two, eight, and one, respectively.³⁷ Nonetheless, the notion accepted for decades among navy officers, as described in the Report of the Department of Health and Charities 1917, was that the '[m]ost primitive and dangerous methods characterised the practice of midwifery.'³⁸ Such egregious affirmations invariably validated aggressive government actions against the pattera, escalating dramatically in 1905 with the opening of the Susana Hospital, Guam's first hospital for women and children.

'The cry of the little people of Guam'

In 1905, after the creation of the Department of Health and Charities, Governor George Dyer wrote to the secretary of the navy,

One of the most important improvements necessary is an extension, in the form of a separate building, for a woman's ward.... [T]his hospital [will offer] an opportunity for benevolently inclined Americans to assist in a philanthropic work, the benefit of which to these simple and helpless people cannot be adequately expressed.³⁹

Dyer's comments, in addition to reiterating the 'benevolent assimilation' dictate of the American president, also demonstrated the importance of incorporating Chamorro women into the navy's health regime. Dyer thus called upon his wife, Susan, to begin an ambitious campaign to open Guam's first hospital for women. She formed the Hospital Women's Aid Society and began a fundraising drive, primarily through a circular distributed to United States mainland friends and foundations. Signed simply 'THE AMERICAN WOMEN IN GUAM', the fundraising pamphlet described the hospital project as a response to the 'cry of the little people of Guam.'⁴⁰ The 'plight of the women and children of Guam' was represented in terms of 'unsanitary living conditions, ... [and] no provision for the care of civilian women and children.'⁴¹

The primary donation that funded the hospital was a $10,000 grant from the Russell Sage Foundation of New York.⁴² Mrs Dyer obtained this allotment directly from Margaret Olivia Sage, Russell Sage's widow, who had established the foundation after her husband's death.⁴³ With this donation, the Susana Hospital opened its doors as a private institution run by the Hospital Women's Aid Society; although it was staffed by American navy doctors and an initial complement of volunteer military wives trained by Mrs Norman McLean, herself the wife of a navy surgeon stationed in Guam. The ten-bed hospital, named in honour of Susan Dyer for her fundraising leadership, opened in October 1905, charging a fee of fifty cents per day.

In 1915, Margaret Sage made a second contribution to the Susana Hospital, this time in the amount of $5,000. Susan Dyer, still connected with the hospital that bore her name despite having left the island with her husband nearly a decade earlier, wrote a letter of appreciation to Margaret Sage that read, in part,

This new thought for those faraway and helpless women and children will strengthen the tie that links their thoughts and prayers with your name and I am sure, some day, somewhere, they will come crowding about you with gratitude in their eyes from which the earth mists of sorrow, pain, and want have gone forever.⁴⁴

Ten years after responding to Susan Dyer's initial campaign to relieve the 'cry of the little people of Guam,' Margaret Sage again reached out to answer the needs of the island's 'faraway and helpless women and children.' Indeed, this notion that acts of charity would extinguish the Chamorro people's 'sorrow, pain, and want,' as well as elicit their gratitude and prayers, fuelled the philanthropic drive of the island's navy wives. In this process, they exploited the same discourse of benevolent colonialism that had been constructed by their husbands in the colonisation of Guam.

The Susana Hospital vs. the pattera

The Susana Hospital was created to offer pregnant Chamorro women an alternative to the traditional pattera. Yet, despite the benevolent 'gift' of a hospital and the navy's disparaging view of midwives, the central role of Guam's pattera persisted. Throughout the pre-war era, the Susana Hospital was birthplace for an average of only 2 percent of Guam's babies, while pattera delivered the other 98 percent, at a rate of forty-five to fifty annual deliveries per pattera. In 1917, for example, of the 675 births on the island, only thirteen occurred in the hospital—accounting for approximately 2 percent of native newborns.⁴⁵ The fourteen pattera, on the other hand, averaged forty-eight deliveries apiece.⁴⁶ This statistical pattern persisted throughout the prewar era.⁴⁷

The vast majority of Chamorro mothers perhaps shared Tan Maria San Nicolas Chargualaf's⁴⁸ preference for the pattera, rather than the hospital, for birthing. In an interview, this ninety-two year-old Chamorro elder from the southern village of Talofofo stated that pattera were well known and highly regarded by her family, and had delivered all ten of her children. Asked if she had ever considered going to the hospital instead, she replied, 'Why should I? Who would want to go there? Tan Marian Dogi [her first pattera] is already the best.'⁴⁹ Indeed, in spite of naval writings that denigrated the pattera, there is no striking evidence to suggest that Chamorro mothers lost faith in midwives' abilities to perform competently and Guam's pattera appear to have surrendered neither their clientele nor their status to the degreed medical professionals employed by the navy. Rather, the efforts of the pattera continued to be widely respected and appreciated by the villagers.⁵⁰

Chamorro women's preference for midwives, rather than the Susana Hospital, stemmed from logistical considerations as well. For Chamorro women living in the southern villages of Guam, ten to fifteen miles from the capital, the convenience of a pattera coming directly to your home was preferable to a slow-moving carabao⁵¹ cart ride to the Hagåtña hospital. As Tan Maria San Nicolas Chargualaf emphatically expressed, 'When I'm in labor already, I don't want to be moving around, especially as the hospital is so far away from Talofofo. The pattera comes to my house instead and it's better for me.'⁵² The Susana Hospital's Hagåtña positioning rendered it somewhat beyond the pale in another sense as well. According to Jose Torres, a native of the southern-most village of Malesso, he and his family viewed the Susana Hospital as a Hagåtña-centred enterprise where they, as southerners, would not feel comfortable.⁵³ Torres' comments highlight the cultural divisiveness between Chamorros from the northern villages and those from the south—a gulf that persists to this day. For a number of reasons, therefore, the geographical position of the Susana Hospital deterred many Chamorros from considering it as an option.

Besides this problematic geography, the Susana Hospital was also compromised by its symbolic position as a navy structure. It was, in fact, one of the new American buildings on Guam in which the coloniser's cultural codes were enforced. As Sister Mary Peter Uncangco explains,

The hospital looked so formal—the grass was always perfectly cut, the walls were always clean and white, the staff always wore clean clothes. No one wanted to go in there because you had to walk so perfect, not touching anything, not making noise, not making mess.... You had to be on your best behavior or else you'll get in trouble.⁵⁴

Numerous elders specifically recall the Susana as a place of unnatural, almost eerie, quiet, a calm that caused them some unease. Thus, ironically, while the navy may have thought that the solitude of a hospital would be favourable in terms of patient healing, for some Chamorros the opposite was the case. Women with such reservations preferred to give birth in their own home, amidst the noise and activity of children playing, food cooking, and roosters crowing.⁵⁵

In addition to the foreign behavioural norms expected of both hospital patients and visitors, an even greater unease stemmed from the English-only language policies that were enforced there, as in all navy government's buildings.⁵⁶ A space in which the Chamorro language was banned from use, the Susana was an unwelcoming environment for many natives—indeed a place of cultural intimidation. In this regard, avoidance of the Susana Hospital can be read as a form of resistance to American colonialism. In more ways than one, then, the Susana Hospital represented an uncomfortable space, in part because of the physical poking and prodding of unfamiliar medical instruments, but also because of its geographical location in Hagåtña, and the unfamiliar social and cultural behaviours expected of those entering its doors. Further, the consideration of this avoidance of navy maternal caregivers in the broader context of island-wide avoidance behaviours lends credence to an interpretation of resistance. That is, Chamorros avoided not only navy gynaecologists, but also navy inspectors who surveyed the villages to issue tickets for violations of the navy's sanitary codes, and navy teachers who enforced English-only language policies. Seen in this broader perspective, the avoidance exercised by 98 percent of Chamorro women certainly constitutes deployment of James Scott's 'weapons of the weak.'⁵⁷

For other Chamorros, enlistment of services at the Susana Hospital was also impractical because of financial limitations in the primarily subsistence-farming community. As Jose Torres commented of the hospital, 'it was made for the Hagåtña rich. The rest of us didn't have that kind of cash to pay for the rooms there.'⁵⁸ Herself a Hagåtña resident, Sister Mary Peter Uncangco supported this notion of the Susana as catering to elite Chamorros when she stated, 'We would never be a patient there. That's for the rich people.'⁵⁹ Instead, Chamorros like Tan Maria Chargualaf would turn to their pattera, who accepted payment in the form of produce and other food items rather than scarce cash resources.⁶⁰

Avoidance of the Susana Hospital by the overwhelming mass of Chamorros—roughly 98 percent of expectant mothers—can thus be viewed as an indicator of not only colonial resistance, but of a wide array of concerns including geographical proximity, proven reliability, and financial viability. Therefore, while Ashcroft, Griffiths, and Tiffin assert that the colonial relationship is ambivalent 'because the colonized subject is never simply and completely opposed to the colonizer,'⁶¹ it can further be argued that ambivalence also emerges when apparent rejections of colonial institutions occur for reasons other than resistance. In these instances, the disruption of colonial hegemony also works to disrupt the binary poles of resistance versus compliance in colonial discourse theory.

In addition to our deliberations on the Chamorros who steered clear of the Susana Hospital, those who utilised its services should also be considered. Reflecting comments by Torres and Uncangco about the 'Hagåtña rich,' were the few Chamorro women, roughly 2 percent per year, who did opt to deliver their babies at the Susana Hospital. Navy reports concur with oral sources in identifying Chamorro class disparities that became apparent at the Susana Hospital. Governor L.S. Shapley, for example, said in 1926 of the Susana Hospital that 'a great majority of the better class of native women enter this hospital.'⁶² Similarly, the 1928 Sanitary Report stated that 'natives of the better class' gravitated toward the Susana Hospital.⁶³ The hospital may well have solely served the interests of an expanding class of mannakhilo', or elite Chamorros, some of whom had intermarried with American military personnel, had access to valuable cash resources due to the wage-earning incomes of their military spouses, and had formed part of an 'upper class' in the capital village.⁶⁴

The voluntary patronage of the Susana Hospital by these mannakhilo' provides evidence of some native compliance, as well as the successful adoption by some Chamorros of the coloniser's cultural habits, institutions, and values. Yet, in their mimicry, 'the result [was] never a simple reproduction'⁶⁵ of the coloniser and, in fact, their actions might best be described as something other than colonial collaboration. Rather, checking into the Susana Hospital was one means of distinguishing themselves as elite women. Indeed, it was an avenue through which the mannakhilo' could define their social identities, not as impoverished, underprivileged women seeking solace via colonial philanthropy, but as aristocratic women subverting the meanings of charity and using the institution to assert their elitism. As mannakhilo' patrons of the Susana Hospital, these women disrupted the colonial discourse of Chamorros as 'simple and helpless people,' as described by Governor Dyer in 1905,⁶⁶ or as the 'little people of Guam,' of Susan Dyer's hospital fundraising campaign.⁶⁷

While the prosperous few delivered their babies in the Susana Hospital to enhance their sense of privilege, other Chamorros avoided the Susana Hospital precisely because of its perception as a place for the mannakhilo'. In fact, by steering clear of the Susana, non-elite Chamorro women conveyed their avoidance, not only of the colonial officials, but also of the mannakhilo'. Such evasion tactics point to the tensions not simply between the colonisers and the colonised, but also between Chamorros. By exacerbating distinctions between northerners and southerners, and between elites and non-elites, the supposedly charitable hospital intensified, and perhaps even promoted, divisions within Chamorro society. Furthermore, while being billed in 1905 as an institution that answered Susan Dyer's proclaimed 'cry of the little people,' and in 1915 as a place that assisted 'helpless women and children,' the Susana Hospital instead promoted the status of Guam's wealthiest women.

The Susana Hospital and 'native nurse' training

With only 2 percent of Guam's infants being delivered at the Susana Hospital, the navy had failed in its attempt to encourage a widespread Chamorro movement away from the traditional pattera. It implemented a secondary plan for the Susana Hospital. Beginning in 1907, a navy-run 'Native Nurses School of Trained Nursing' was established at the Susana Hospital. The navy required native students be unmarried, thereby effectively ensuring that the pool of students was limited to young Chamorro women. Further, the programme required the students reside at the hospital for the duration of their two-year training period.⁶⁸ Upon successful completion of the programme, students would be certified with the title of 'nurse-midwife.' The navy's long-term goal was to replace the elderly, empirically-trained pattera with youthful, navy-certified 'nurse-midwives,' who were trained in the likeness of the American navy nurses stationed on the island and yet would hopefully be considered as pattera to the Chamorro.

Of the first group of Chamorro students, Governor Templin Potts commented in 1907:

The native nurses at the Susana Hospital for women ... are satisfactory.... [A]ll things being considered they are probably more efficient than imported trained nurses would be. Living in their normal habitat and understanding the prejudice and peculiarities of their own people, they have immeasurable advantages.⁶⁹

Governor Potts suggests that, rather than simply providing an American-trained alternative to the pattera, one of the navy's intentions was to employ native nurses as collaborators, recognising that it would be difficult to change native notions of health and hygiene without intimate access to Chamorro families. The ability of native nurses to understand the Chamorro culture or, in Potts' words, 'the prejudice and peculiarities of their own people,' added to their potential medical value.

Similarly, former governor George Dyer testified in 1911, before the United States House of Representatives, that the navy-trained native nurses 'could go among their sisters, secure their confidence, teach them the importance of cleanliness as it affected their health and that of their families, and finally work a change in their attitude toward medical attention.'⁷⁰ Governors Dyer and Potts both attest to the navy's intention to use these women as collaborators 'among their sisters,' in order to replace the so-called primitive health practices of the Chamorros with American methods.

Yet the notion of pattera as colonial collaborators and bearers of modern medicine does not sufficiently describe their actual practice. Existing oral and written archival sources uniformly reveal that, despite successful completion of the native nurse-training programme at the Susana Hospital, the pattera did not simply replace traditional methods with navy teachings, but instead syncretised newfound knowledge and techniques to create a hybridised practice of maternal care. The most significant of the techniques learned from American doctors and nurses was the sterilisation of hands and equipment; a practice that even in United States hospitals only became commonplace in the 1930s.⁷¹ Hand-sterilisation was thus added to a regimen that included traditional massages, and incantations to both Catholic saints and ancestral spirits.⁷² Anthropologist Laura Thompson further noted, during her 1938–9 research stay on Guam, that pattera administered specific herbal medicines to their patients—for example, doses of amot fresko (a mixture described by Thompson as a secret recipe) during labour, and a 'medicine made of benalo (Thespesia populnea) bark boiled with salt and drunk as hot as possible' to alleviate afterbirth pains.⁷³ Another common pattera practice, as discussed earlier, was the burying of the placenta under the mother's house, a measure taken to ensure that 'when the child grows up it will not run away from home.'⁷⁴ This selective appropriation of western methods by the pattera, and the addition of these methods to their existing repertoire, disrupted the bounds of colonial authority, substantiating Bhabha's assertion that colonial authority neither imposes absolute hegemony nor completely represses native traditions, but rather produces hybridisation.⁷⁵

Although the navy hoped that the nurse-midwives would serve as mediators between the Chamorro and naval medical communities, those who enlisted in the programme were propelled by a variety of cultural and economic motives of their own. For some, such as Tan Emeteria Quichocho Dueñas, the decision to enrol was as a result of the influence of several respected elderly pattera aunts.⁷⁶ She had grown up accompanying her aunts on their rounds and assisting during deliveries, and entered the programme in order to continue the long-standing family tradition of midwifery. Others, such as Tan Joaquina Herrera, were interested in helping others deliver babies and entered the programme so that they could serve the community as pattera.⁷⁷ Furthermore, both Tan Emeteria Dueñas and Tan Joaquina Herrera additionally noted that becoming a midwife was their way of contributing economically to their extended families—by redistributing the food and other items given to them by their patients as payment.⁷⁸

Still others enrolled because of the intellectual challenge the programme presented. For these nursing students, described by navy nurse J. Beatrice Bowman as 'the most intelligent girls from different parts of the island,'⁷⁹ the nursing programme may have been viewed as a rare opportunity to advance their academic interests; as one Chamorro woman, Maria Perez, complained in 1920, the schools on Guam taught women nothing 'except basket weaving and cooking.'⁸⁰ Nursing indeed provided an opportunity beyond the prevailing navy norms for Chamorro women. Parallel conclusions were drawn by historian Donald Denoon, whose research in Papua New Guinea has illustrated that opportunities in nursing provided New Guinean women with 'some measure of public distinction' at a time when 'the colonial state made no attempt to train female staff of any kind.'⁸¹

In none of the oral histories or written archives do women state that they entered the navy's programme in order to alleviate the 'prejudice and peculiarities of their own people,' as Governor Potts speculated, or to 'work a change in [Chamorros'] attitude toward medical attention,' as Governor Dyer testified before Congress. Instead, the themes of family tradition, community service, and economic empowerment predominate for the women who entered the programme. It is difficult, indeed, to find evidence attesting to the influence of naval notions of 'benevolent assimilation' on the Chamorro women who enlisted in the nurse-training programme. Their stated motives certainly fail to convey evidence of gratitude towards the navy for this supposed act of philanthropy toward the 'little people of Guam.'

Furthermore, despite advantages that might be gained by entering the programme, most reports emphasise the disappointing dearth of interested students. One account of the history of nursing on Guam noted, 'Students were few and far between. They were admitted to the Hospital as soon as they applied.'⁸² In 1919, in order to boost enrolment, the government began recruiting students to the nursing school by offering a variety of economic incentives. In Executive Special Order 48, Governor William Gilmer ruled,

Hereafter native girls who graduate from the 'Native Nurses' School of Trained Nursing' and who qualify as teachers in the public schools shall be given preference in appointment as school teachers and their pay shall be 20% in addition to the regular pay of teachers of their grade.⁸³

Despite inducements such as this, by 1932 the school had graduated only sixty-six native nurses since its inception twenty-five years earlier, an average of fewer than three graduates per year;⁸⁴ by 1941 the number had dropped to 2.4.

Sources suggest that a broad variety of cultural concerns deterred more widespread enrolment. In particular, forming alliances and making compromises with Americans apparently caused tension between the native nurses and other Chamorros. One study of the prewar pattera asserts that the working relationship between the native nurses and American navy men was 'viewed critically by some Chamorro people.'⁸⁵Tan Joaquina Herrera, for example, revealed that her parents very reluctantly allowed her to enrol in the training programme, expressing their misgivings about 'the American people there, the corpsmen.'⁸⁶ Another pattera account stated that to work 'under the supervision of "foreigners" was normally received by the family with astonishment and something akin to horror.'⁸⁷

Several other factors, external to the concerns of the students and their families, were also at play in contributing to the program's lacklustre enrolment figures. The language barrier, for one, proved a significant obstacle in the native nurses' education and training. In 1914, seven years after the debut of the training programme, a navy nurse, Elisabeth Leonhart, wrote, 'Our knowledge of the language of the Island increases, but our communication with native nurses and patients depends more on the language of signs. Our hands now obey our minds with marvellous rapidity and our gestures are no longer stiffly made.'⁸⁸ Even in 1927, after two decades, the persistent language barrier remained a formidable obstacle to instruction, causing the naval government to lengthen the nurse-training programme from two to three years. Chief Nurse Hannah Workman, in a letter to the island's commanding officer, defended this decision on the grounds that

two years is too short a period of time in which to teach the native student the details of nursing thoroughly. The students' difficulties in mastering the English language together with their limited capacity for understanding and grasping technicalities make their development in proficiency and dependability too slow a process to be accomplished in the prescribed two years.⁸⁹

Another possible reason for the low enrolment was the nature of the work the native nurses were required to do. Chief Nurse Workman conceded that 'the native nurses acted more as maids and helpers to the staff of navy nurses than as nurses.'⁹⁰ Native nurse Maria Garcia of Agaña Heights, who graduated from the programme in 1935, reported that her assignments required that she 'mopped floors, cleaned bedpans, and made beds.'⁹¹ In fact, one wonders if the native nurses were not only trained to serve as collaborators between the navy and the natives, but also to provide services to the hospital that navy wives had originally, but no longer, volunteered to perform.⁹² Indeed, the janitorial elements of the 'native nurse' position provide cause for speculation regarding government policy to replace navy wives with native women in this regard. Treatment of native nurses as maids to the navy nurses, rather than as nurses in their own right, certainly may have deterred some women, particularly in light of what many had hoped to gain from the programme, as discussed above.

Based on the comments of navy health workers, and the types of tasks assigned to the native nurses, it appears that the navy did not perceive these Chamorro women to be powerful professionals, but subordinates who could learn proper modes of sanitation and health care in their navy training. For the native nurses on Guam, the Susana Hospital became in many ways a surrogate domestic space in which they were charged with responsibilities such as changing beds, bathing patients, and serving food. The hospital, the navy hoped, would serve as a training ground in order to nurture the Chamorro women's culturally-entangled and contested notions of domesticity—while, in the process, attempting further to Americanise the natives.⁹³ Yet, ironically, the promotion of domesticity as desired by the navy could not be realised; and, indeed, the native-nurse graduates resisted confinement altogether by leaving the hospital once their training period expired. For these women, leaving the Susana Hospital liberated them from an environment of social and cultural tension and from their limited role as 'native nurses.' Instead, they would find social mobility, cultural status, and economic power as valued pattera.

Conclusion

Despite the aims and hopes of their would-be colonial oppressors, at the Susana Hospital, Chamorros-as-patients did not become objects of American charity, while Chamorros-as-'native nurses' and pattera did not replicate practices taught by their navy instructors. Rather, what resulted correlates with Benita Parry's 'hybrid moment,' in which 'what the native rewrites is not a copy of the colonialist original, but a qualitatively different thing-in-itself.'⁹⁴ This study of the Susana Hospital validates Parry's assertion that the colonised '[make] an absolute exercise of power impossible' because of their continual 'fracturing of the colonialist text.'⁹⁵ Thus, although the navy viewed them as 'helpless' and 'little people of Guam,' the Chamorro women—whether as pattera, 'native-nurse' students, or elite Chamorro women—enhanced their social and economic status through the exploitation of the Susana Hospital programmes. In so doing, these Chamorro women effectively disrupted colonial authority by rewriting for themselves the meanings and values of programmes designed for their 'benevolent assimilation.'

University of Guam

Notes

^1. Two years after opening the Susana Hospital, the Navy Government expanded its operations to include a 'Native Nurses School of Trained Nursing.' Aspects of this programme will be discussed later in the article.

^2. Bill Ashcroft, Gareth Griffiths, and Helen Tiffin, Key Concepts in Post-colonial Studies (London and New York: Routledge, 1998), 118 (emphasis in original).

^3. Homi K. Bhabha, The Location of Culture (London and New York: Routledge, 1994), 112.

^4. Guam is the southern-most island in the Mariana Islands chain. After the US defeated Spain, it decided to colonise Guam, since the island was the site of the widest and deepest harbour in the archipelago, and leave the other islands in Spanish control. Within the year, Spain had sold the remaining thirteen islands, the Northern Mariana Islands, to Germany. Thus, since 1898, the Mariana Islands have been politically divided into two separate entities, Guam and the Northern Marianas.

^5. Laura Thompson, Guam and its People with a Village Journal by Jesus C. Barcinas, revised edition (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1941), 197.

^6. Scott Russell, Tiempon I Manmofo'na: Ancient Chamorro Culture and History of the Northern Mariana Islands (Saipan, Commonwealth of the Northern Mariana Islands (hereafter CNMI): Division of Historic Preservation, 1998), 174.

^7. Lawrence J. Cunningham, Ancient Chamorro Society (Honolulu: Bess Press, 1992), 101.

^8. Thompson, 198.

^9. Russell, 153.

^10. Reasons for secrecy relate, in part, to norms of Chamorro privacy and health, but have also been a form of resistance against colonial notions of Chamorro medicine as primitive and superstition-based. Anthropologist Laura Thompson, after her stay on Guam from 1938 to 1939, wrote that traditional herbalists such as the suruhana "practice their ancient art of healing in secret" (Thompson, 197).

^11. Garcia, The Life and Martyrdom of the Venerable Father Diego Luis de Vitores of the Society of Jesus: First Apostle of the Marian Islands: And Events of These Islands from the Year Sixteen Hundred and SixtyEeight Through the Year Sixteen Hundred and Eighty One, unpublished manuscript, April 1937, 21–2, as quoted in Thompson, 197.

^12. Father Paul V. Daly, CPS, trans., History of the Mariana Islands Newly Converted to the Christian Religion and of the Glorious Death of the First Martyrs who Preached the Faith There, by Fr. Charles Le Gobien, [1700], manuscript, 1949, Micronesian Area Research Center, University of Guam, 10.

^13. Glynn Barratt, trans., An Account of the Corvette L'Uranie's Sojourn at the Mariana Islands, 1819, by Louis Claude de Freycinet (Saipan, CNMI: Division of Historic Preservation, 2003), 117.

^14. Thompson, 197. Perhaps Thompson was unaware that the term suruhana refers specifically to female herbalists, encompassing but one categorisation of healers. A second group of healers, the male suruhanu, co-exists. These two gendered terms were adapted from the Spanish language, and are defined as 'surgeon.' The precise history of Chamorro adaptation of the terms suruhanu and suruhana to replace the traditional makahna has not been documented, but it is likely that seventeenth-century Catholic missionary attempts to extinguish the makahna led to their being renamed in acceptable Spanish terms. Indeed, such renaming effectively subverted colonisers' attempts to abolish them.

^15. The history of the term pattera is also somewhat of a mystery. It derives from the Spanish word for midwife: partir (to part). The term used by Chamorros in precolonial years is undocumented, as is the history of the pattera before the twentieth century.

^16. Karen A. Cruz, The Pattera of Guam: Their Story and Legacy (Hagåtña: Guam Humanities Council, 1997), 28.

^17. Based on an interview with Tan Ana Rios Zamora in Cruz, 4, 6.

^18. Claudia Guevara, "I Pattera," Glimpses of Guam 15, no. 3 (1975): 60.

^19. Naval Government of Guam, Annual Report 1914 (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1914), 2.

^20. Ibid., 2.

^21. Naval Government of Guam, Annual Report 1900 (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1900), 1.

^22. Naval Government of Guam, General Order 85, 27 February 1905, RG 80, Box 394, 9351: 985, 1, US National Archives and Records Administration, Washington, DC.

^23. Annual Report of the Surgeon General, United States Navy, 1907 (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office), 79.

^24. E.R. Stitt, "Contributions of the Medical Corps, United States Navy, to American Medicine," US Naval Medical Bulletin 24, no. 1 (1926): 6–7.

^25. Naval Government of Guam, Annual Report 1904 (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office), 6 (emphasis added).

^26. Leela Gandhi, Postcolonial Theory: A Critical Introduction (New York: Columbia University Press, 1998), 134.

^27. Letter, Ivan Wettengel (US Navy commanding officer and governor of Guam) to secretary of the Navy, 2 August 1921, RG 80, Box 485, 9351: 1963–82, 1, US National Archives and Records Administration, Washington, DC.

^28. Original published in Guam Recorder, July 1912. Reprinted in Political Status Education Coordinating Commission (hereafter PSECC), Hale'ta: I Ma Gobetna-ña Guam. Governing Guam: Before and After the Wars (Hagåtña, Guam: PSECC, 1994), 69.

^29. This is a variation on a practice widespread throughout Oceania. See, for example, Leanne Merrett-Balkos, "Just Add Water: Remaking Women Through Childbirth, Anganen, Southern Highlands, Papua New Guinea," in Maternities and Modernities: Colonial and Postcolonial Experiences in Asia and the Pacific, edited by Kalpana Ram and Margaret Jolly (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 213–38.

^30. Thompson, 242.

^31. Naval Government of Guam, Annual Report 1906, (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office), 5.

^32. Elizabeth Leonhart, "Letters from Navy Nurses," American Journal of Nursing 14, no. 4 (1914): 296.

^33. Annual Report of the Surgeon General, United States Navy, 1910 (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office), 89.

^34. Laura Torres Souder, Daughters of the Island: Contemporary Chamorro Women Organizers on Guam, 2^nd edition (Lanham, MD: University Press of America; Mangilao, Guam: Micronesian Area Research Center, 1992), 143.

^35. Henry P. Beers, American Naval Occupation and Government of Guam, 1898–1902 (Washington, DC: US Navy Department, Office of Records Administration, 1944), 38.

^36. Naval Government of Guam, Annual Report 1901, 9 and Annual Report 1902, 5.

^37. G.L. Angeny, "Guam: Reports on Health and Sanitation for the Years 1907 and 1908, Report for the Year 1907," US Naval Medical Bulletin 3, no. 3 (1909): 329; Naval Government of Guam, Sanitary Report, Island of Guam, Fiscal Year 1913, RG 52, Box 397, 9351–1231, 2, US National Archives and Records Administration, Washington, DC; and Naval Government of Guam, Report of the Department of Health and Charities, Fiscal Year 1914, RG 52, Box 403, 9351: 1372, US National Archives and Records Administration, Washington, DC.

^38. Report of the Department of Health and Charities, Fiscal Year 1917, Naval Government of Guam, RG 52, Box 403, 9351: 10, US National Archives and Records Administration, Washington, DC. It is important to note that, in fact, licensed doctors were certainly not necessarily better arbiters of life and death on Guam. For example, navy Assistant Surgeon E.O.J. Eytinge revealed that one of his gangosa patients, a twenty-four year-old Chamorro woman, spontaneously aborted after being administered medicine prescribed for her infection, describing that "[t]he pregnant state was unsuspected, because the patient said nothing about it, and was unmarried, and, so far as appearances go, all Chamorro females appear pregnant" (E.O.J. Eytinge, "Case Reports from Guam: Abortion due to Administration of Salvarsan," US Navy Medical Bulletin 8, no. 1 (1914): 116).

^39. Naval Government of Guam, Annual Report 1905, (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office), 11 (emphasis added).

^40. Johnston, 41 (emphasis in original).

^41. Ibid., 41.

^42. The Russell Sage Foundation was established by Margaret Sage in 1907, for 'the improvement of social and living conditions in the United States,' with more than $35 million set aside by her husband. It was one of only eight foundations in the United States at the time and the third largest in terms of monetary holdings. John M. Glenn, Lilian Brandt, and F. Emerson Andrews, Russell Sage Foundation, 1907–1946 (New York: Russell Sage Foundation, 1947), 3, 13.

^43. Letter, Robert W. De Forest to trustees of the Russell Sage Foundation, New York, 24 June 1907, Early Office Files 10:89, Rockefeller Archive Center, Russell Sage Foundation (hereafter RSF), New York, USA, 1.

^44. Letter, Susan H.P. Dyer to Margaret Olivia Sage, 2 May 1915, Personal Giving 94:935, Rockefeller Archive Center, RSF, New York, USA, 1.

^45. Naval Government of Guam, Report of the Department of Health and Charities 1917 (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office), 6, 18.

^46. Naval Government of Guam, Report of the Department of Health and Charities 1917 (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office), 10, 18.

^47. See also Sanitary Report, Island of Guam, Fiscal Year 1919, Naval Government of Guam, RG 52, Box 2, NM-48, E-38, US National Archives and Records Administration, Washington, DC, 1, 6. Although pattera delivered some 98 percent of all births prior to the war, their popularity diminished in the 1950s. By 1953, only 45 per cent of the island's births were performed by midwives. By 1955, the number had dropped to 15 percent, and by 1960 to 8 percent (Cruz, 38). This story, outside the scope of this article, relates to a complex set of factors; but, in particular, to the creation of a local hospital (Guam Memorial Hospital) and to rabid post-World War II American patriotism, due to the US military's role in defeating the Japanese armed forces that had occupied Guam for over two years.

^48. Tan is a term of respect used when referring to older Chamorro women.

^49. Tan Maria San Nicolas Chargualaf, interview with author, Talofofo, Guam, 5 July 1999.

^50. Cruz, 38.

^51. A carabao is a water buffalo; such carts were the primary means of land transportation for Chamorros prior to the 1950s.

^52. Chargualaf, interview.

^53. Jose 'Doc' Torres, interview with author, Tamuning, Guam, 19 March 1999.

^54. Sister Mary Peter Uncangco, Religious Sister of Mercy, interview with author, Tamuning, Guam, 26 March 1999.

^55. Chargualaf, interview.

^56. Uncangco, interview; Torres, interview.

^57. James C. Scott, Weapons of the Weak: Everyday Forms of Peasant Resistance (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1985).

^58. Torres, interview.

^59. Uncangco, interview.

^60. Chargualaf, interview.

^61. Ashcroft, Griffiths, and Tiffin, 12.

^62. Naval Government of Guam, Annual Report 1926 (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office), 7.

^63. Sanitary Report, Island of Guam, Fiscal Year 1928, Naval Government of Guam, RG 52, Box 49, E15A, EG54/A9-1, US National Archives and Records Administration, Washington, DC, 1.

^64. For other descriptions of Chamorro class awareness, see Chris Perez Howard, Mariquita: A Tragedy of Guam (Suva, Fiji: Institute of Pacific Studies, University of the South Pacific, 1986), 40.

^65. Ashcroft, Griffiths, and Tiffin, 139.

^66. Naval Government of Guam, Annual Report 1905 (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office), 11.

^67. Johnston, 41.

^68. In 1927, the programme was extended to three years. Letter, Hannah M. Workman to Commanding Officer, 25 August 1927, RG 52, E15A, P11–1/NH18, Box 168, US National Archives and Records Administration, Washington, DC.

^69. Naval Government of Guam, Annual Report 1907 (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office), 8.

^70. US House of Representatives, Congressional Record, 61^st Congress, 3^rd Session, 27 February 1911, 3607.

^71. In the 1930s, maternal mortality rates in US hospitals began to fall for a variety of reasons. Most significant of these was the fact that members of the medical community finally acknowledged and implemented the 1847 findings of Hungarian obstetrician Ignaz P. Semmelweis linking puerperal fever, a significant cause of maternal mortality, to 'contact with the contaminated hands of doctors and medical students coming from the autopsy room.' To combat this contamination, Semmelweis introduced the routine of handwashing with a chlorine solution before manual examination (Ackerknecht, A Short History of Medicine (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1982), 187). Semmelweis' thesis was 'denied or ignored or forgotten' until a group of bacteriologists at the end of the nineteenth century, including Louis Pasteur, confirmed it with the discovery of the particular organism that caused the fever (Irvine S.L. Loudon, "Childbirth," in Companion Encyclopedia of the History of Medicine (London: Routledge, 1993), 1060–1).

^72. Thompson, 240–3; Christine De Lisle, "Delivering the Body: Narratives of Family, Childbirth and Prewar Pattera" (Master's thesis, University of Guam, 2000), 91–103.

^73. Thompson, 241.

^74. Ibid., 242.

^75. Bhabha, 112.

^76. PSECC, I Manfåyi: Who's Who in Chamorro History (Hagåtña, Guam: PSECC, 1994), 273.

^77. Cruz, 8, 17.

^78. PSECC, I Manfåyi, 273; Cruz, 18.

^79. J. Beatrice Bowman, "The Navy Nurse Corps and its Relation to the Advancement of Nursing Education," US Naval Medical Bulletin 21, no. 5 (1924): 690.

^80. Quote from PSECC, I Ma Gobetna-ña Guam, 75.

^81. Donald Denoon, "Medical Care and Gender in Papua New Guinea," in Family and Gender in the Pacific: Domestic Contradictions and the Colonial Impact, edited by Margaret Jolly and Martha Macintyre (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), 105.

^82. Audrey Bordallo, "The Nurses," Pacific Profile (May 1965): 15.

^83. Guam News Letter, October 1919, US Naval Government of Guam, Hagåtña, Guam, 8.

^84. Letter, W.S. Douglas (chief clerk) to Appointment Division, Office of the Secretary of the Navy, Washington, DC, 20 December 1932, RG 52, E15A, P11–1/NH18 (123), US National Archives and Records Administration, Washington, DC, 1.

^85. Cruz, 38.

^86. Cruz, 17.

^87. Bordallo, 16.

^88. Elizabeth Leonhart, "Letters from Navy Nurses," American Journal of Nursing 14, no. 11 (1914): 988.

^89. Letter, Hannah Workman to Commanding Officer, 25 August 1927, RG 52, E15A, P11–1/NH18, Box 168, US National Archives and Records Administration, Washington, DC.

^90. Ibid.

^91. Josephine Mallo, "Guam and Nursing Integral Part of her Life," Pacific Daily News, 10 May 1978, 30.

^92. Recall that when the Susana Hospital first opened in 1905, it was staffed by volunteer military wives, originally trained by Mrs Norman McLean, wife of one of the navy doctors.

^93. See Laura Torres Souder, Daughters of the Island, for her insight into the navy's attempts to Americanise Chamorro women in the mode of Victorian domesticity. Numerous other studies identify colonial attempts throughout Oceania to promote models of domesticity. See, for example, Margaret Jolly and Martha Macintyre, eds, Family and Gender in the Pacific: Domestic Contradictions and the Colonial Impact (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989).

^94. Benita Parry, "Problems in Current Theories of Colonial Discourse," in The Post-colonial Studies Reader, edited by Bill Ashcroft, Gareth Griffiths, and Helen Tiffin (London and New York: Routledge, 1995), 42.

^95. Ibid., 42.

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