I am pleased to release the Second Edition of Adidil er a Klechibelau — Songs of Palau, 1915-1970 as a downloadable PDF book. To download the book, click on the “Continue Reading” link below, and then find the download button.
This songbook tells the story of the development of a new musical form in 20th-century Palau and provides the lyrics, translation and musical transcription for many of these songs:
In about 1915, the people of the island nation of Palau in the Western Pacific Ocean began to create a body of songs set to melodies that they heard from their non-Palauan co-workers and neighbors and the popular music of their Japanese and American occupiers/colonists. These songs express in the Palauan language the heartbreak of past love affairs, praise and thanks to neighboring villages and the beauty of the singer’s home village. These are Palauan poetry. Adidil er a Klechibelau is a collection of the lyrics and music for 151 songs composed from 1915 to 1970 in the Palauan language, a history of that musical development, and an analysis of the themes and musical structures of those songs.
I am pleased to announce the publication of Adidil er a Klechibelau — Songs of Palau, 1915-1970. This songbook tells the story of the development of a new musical form in 20th-century Palau and provides the lyrics, translation and musical transcription for many of these songs:
In about 1915, the people of the island nation of Palau in the Western Pacific Ocean began to create a body of songs set to melodies that they heard from their non-Palauan co-workers and neighbors and the popular music of their Japanese and American occupiers/colonists. These songs express in the Palauan language the heartbreak of past love affairs, praise and thanks to neighboring villages and the beauty of the singer’s home village. These are Palauan poetry. Adidil er a Klechibelau is a collection of the lyrics and music for 151 songs composed from 1915 to 1970 in the Palauan language, a history of that musical development, and an analysis of the themes and musical structures of those songs.
The 422-page book will be available for purchase at the Belau National Museum starting in November, 2022, or, for readers in the US, by ordering from ngirchoureng@gmail.com. I will be selling the book for $30.00 each, to cover printing and shipping costs.
The source recordings and image-snips of the Palauan lyrics can be found by clicking on this link. It has been my privilege to be able to explore these wonderful songs and to share with others this bridge into the lives of the people of Palau.
Today’s song was composed by a man named Simang in 1935 [1]. I was told by Suki Rengchol that Simang was Baul Dakubong’s father. Simang is also listed in Tutii’s songbook [1] as the composer of the song Bechesiil a Ulumulak re Ngak [sweetheart, you lied to me] and the entry says “Aimeli” … (the rest of the name was cut off on the copy) after his name. That was probably “Aimeliik,” where Baul is from. I don’t have a recording of that other song, but would love to find it.
This is one of only a few songs in the Palauan songbook whose lyrics ponder the subject of the impending or recent death of a loved one. Ribang seems to me to be about death that is in the future. Compare that to Meringel a Rengul, that is about the impacts of a death in the recent past.
The oldest recording of this song (Ribang) I have is from the Ngerel Belau Radio Tapes with Wataru Elbelau singing. The song was titled “Di Ua Blok Bad” and it starts on what is considered to be the second verse.
Today’s song comes from 1935, during the Japanese period, and celebrates the memory of gorging on doughnuts. I am guessing that the song title — Komorisang — refers to the love object for the singer, a person whose name was probably Komori-san. Perhaps Komori was the source of the doughnuts that everyone ate up while they hung out at the dock at Mengeremong. It is kind of a silly song. My take on this is that the singer sneaks out at night where Komori-San is waiting, perhaps expecting some “mengurs a ngurd.” But she sees the donuts and is more interested in food than in Komori-san. A love story for food.
Doughnuts must have been a special treat in Palau of the 1930s. Mechas Iwesei Rengechel recalled her childhood days during Japanese time [1, Story 47] and recalled that:
After school finished, I sometimes visited Nanbo (South Seas Trading Company) on my way home and saw my father working there. He gave me some money and I bought aberabang (oil bread), shaved ice with sweetened syrup, ice cream or karinto (fried dough cookies). I ate them on my way home.
Donats sesei de kung a koliang
Karinto is a classic Japanese snack made from flour, yeast and brown sugar and deep fried, kind of hot-dog shaped. Others remember Okinawan doughnut balls. Mechas Barbara Telams worked at the Watanabe bakery in 1941 and her job was to make dough into balls [1, Story 30], presumably for doughnuts. Mechas Ochob Giraked recalled that during that period [1, Story 36]: “It was fun to go to a store with my friends and buy sweets. We could buy two donut balls for 5 sen from an Okinawan store.” Rubak Techitong Rebuluud recalled [1, Story 45] that when he had reached third grade, he started to work after school at the houses of Japanese officials, earning 1 yen 50 sen a month: “At that time you could buy a shirt and pants for less than 1 yen. We could buy an ice cake or donut ball with the change.” Mechas Ngerair Kozue Rechelulk recalled [1, Story 48] similar prices: “We could buy two pieces of twisted donut for 5 sen.” Mechas Paulina Towai recalled [1, Story 56] that “there was a Japanese store in Ngerbeched and they sold coffee, beer, rice, shaved ice with strawberry syrup, tama (donut balls) and other sweets.”
The doughnuts that the elders remembered might have been Sata Andagi, Okinawan-style doughnuts, pictured above. There is a fascinating story about these doughnuts being used by a mother to secretly hide gold coins for her soon-to-be exiled son because the king and her son were in love with the same woman, and that story leads to their alternate name for these doughnuts: koban age [fried gold coin].
I have a memory from when I lived in Palau of going out fishing with friends to an area way outside the reef. As our motor boat (chert) made its way through the swells of the open ocean (it wasn’t a very big boat), I thought, whoa, this is serious business and if something goes wrong we could be in a lot of trouble. I remember that everyone was very serious on that boat ride. Periodically something does go wrong, and the disabled boat drifts away from Palau as evidenced by stories of people who had such boat problems actually surviving and landing in the Philippines or Indonesia many days later.
Today’s song – Adidil era Belumam [remembering our village] – is a very sad song that documents such a tragedy at sea. This story most likely comes from Kayangel, since both recordings we have of the song are sung by people in Kayangel. In the song, they make their way from their home village (Kayangel?) toward the rest of Palau taking a short-cut. This turns out to be a mistake as some undefined problem occurs that causes their boat to drift out to sea, further and further, until their village has almost disappeared from view. Things don’t turn out well, as, in the end, they reach the place where their ancestors came from and from where time originated. The Palauan creation story, however, starts from the sea between Angaur and Peleliu, not north of Kayangel, so maybe I still don’t have this story quite right.
The lyrics were written by Salvator Ongrung [1], who was from Ngaraard. Cisca Soaladaob’s song book indicates that this was composed by Salvador [sic] in 1939 and that the melody source (delecherul) is Japanese [2]. Salvator’s son, Edward, a talented singer in his own right, shared with me last year some of his memories about his father’s love of music. Salvator collected a number of instruments including guitars, accordions, harmonica, mandolin, etc and Edward remembers that when he was young, in the evenings after everything was done, his father and mother, Ungil Klebesei, would play together and everyone in the family would sing. This is the only song that I have found that he has composed, but perhaps there are more. Edward didn’t know of others.
The first recording of this song was made by Barbara Smith during her 1963 visit to Palau to collect music. During that visit, she made a trip up to Kayangel on October 5, 1963, and recorded a series of matamatong dances. This first recording was in the middle of the dance set. You can hear the dance leader call out “nep, broit, nep, broit” [left, right, left, right] as they prepare for the next song. The dancers are all singing this song together, without accompaniment. Barbara Smith’s notes indicated that the name of “Harumi Syokaiseng” for this song, which presumably was the lead singer, although the entire dance group was singing.
Today we’ll do two songs that are each related to the Rock Islands (chelebacheb). There is a good possibility that they were both written by Bobai Weloi.
The first — Mototoi Hanarete — may have come from the pen of Uchelngel, composed in 1940 [1], [4]. The PCC song collection [2], though, attributes the song to Bauul (written elsewhere as Paul) Dakubong. That may be because the earliest version of this song we have was recorded by Paul Dakubong and the Tungelbai Band (from Aimeliik) as a part of the Ngerel Belau Radio Tapes in the 1960s. Finally, in my latest interview with Baurie Oingerang [3], he thought Mototoi was composed by Bobai Weloi.
In any event, let’s first listen to the Paul Dakubong version from the 1960s. Since this is the Tungelbai band, you hear the fiddle accompanying the singer.
Mototoi Hanarete, Paul Dakubong & the Tungelbai Band, 1960s
The song Karmaliang was written by Halley Eriich’s grandfather, Ngiromtilou, in the 1930s. Halley released this song as the title cut on his first tape in 1984. Rengel Belau, the local newspaper at the time, had an article [1] announcing the album’s release:
Halley Eriich, Belau’s youngest contemporary composer and singer of modern Palauan music, has released a first tape cassette, Karmaliang. The multi-talented performer composed 7 out of 10 in the cassette’s cuts. The title song, Karmaliang, was composed by his grandfather over 50 years ago when Aimeliik people went to Ngchesar as Klechedaol.
The newspaper’s claim that the song was written over 50 years ago would put its composition prior to 1934. However, in Junko Konishi’s songbook [2], she lists the composer as Ngiriou and the year as 1937. During my interview with Halley earlier this year [3], he told me that his grandfather’s name was Ngiromtilou and that he wrote the song for Ngiriou.
In previous posts, I’ve discussed the songs Belias and Marukioku Seineng as examples of songs written for or about a Klechedaol, the Palauan custom where one village hosts another for a visit, usually for games, song and dance. This song is a little different, as it mostly tells the feelings of the person who traveled away to Ngchesar for the klechedaol, only to end with a broken heart.
Ouchacha 