By Pauly Suba
Manny Dueñas, president of the Guam Fishermen’s Cooperative Association, sat in his office reflecting on decades of dedication that have shaped not only his life but the very community he serves. Since its humble beginnings in 1977, the co-op has grown from a modest shack to a pivotal institution in Guam’s fishing industry and cultural fabric.
“We started out with a small setup, literally working out of a refrigerating container,” says Dueñas, recalling the early days. “It was really primitive back then, but we made do with what we had.”
The journey from those early days to the present has been one of persistence and adaptability. The co-op, once a makeshift operation, now plans to expand with a new facility designed to better serve the needs of the island’s fishers and the wider community. This transformation, however, has not come without its share of challenges.
“We were given a huge spudder building by the military in the mid-80s,” Dueñas says. “Where the co-op was located used to be like a graveyard of boats. But through the years, we became quite successful.”
Success, however, brought its own set of trials. Dueñas says government changes led to the loss of contracts that once provided a steady income by supplying fish to local schools. This shift forced the co-op to innovate.
“We had to discourage heavy re-fishing and bottom fishing and instead support pelagic fishing because it’s more abundant,” he says.
Adapting to these changes, the co-op introduced new culinary strategies to the island’s residents, promoting local versions of popular dishes like poke, which they deliberately spell as “poki.”
“We created a recipe program to shift from reef fish to pelagic,” Dueñas says. “Instead of baking a parrotfish, you bake a mahi-mahi. We also make kelaguen and sashimi plates. We started experimenting with smoking fish and making dips and stuff and people love it.”
The co-op’s journey hasn’t just been about business — it’s also about community resilience. Typhoon Mawar’s devastation required a community-wide effort to recover. Dueñas expressed his frustration with bureaucratic hurdles that hindered their rebuilding efforts, but he is equally emphatic about the community’s unwavering support.
“Fishermen and the wider community supported us throughout the recovery process since Mawar,” he says. “They dropped off food, cases of water, and provided moral support. If it weren’t for the encouragement, we would have been dead.”
The co-op has been a hub of community spirit, particularly evident during crises like the COVID-19 pandemic. Dueñas recounted how it contributed to the island’s pandemic response, providing logistical support for setting up testing and vaccination sites.
“My son, who works at public health, called me for help with canopies, tables, and chairs for pandemic setups,” Dueñas says. “We provided coolers of ice daily. That was our contribution, and some people aren’t even aware of how much we have given back.”
Recounting the co-op’s struggle during the COVID-19 pandemic, Dueñas says, “The crisis hit hard, slashing sales by 50%. “35% of our sales are to tourists. We were one of the top five places visited by tourists. That’s huge for us.”
Dueñas says visitors often flocked to the historic Japanese bunker on the site, a relic of World War II. Dueñas shared how the co-op took it upon themselves to enhance the visitor experience. “We cleaned it up, put up signs in English, Japanese, Chinese, and Korean. It wasn’t just about fishing anymore… It was about honoring our history and making sure everyone could understand it,” he says.
The project, which involved repurposing scrap metal and securing a favorable deal from a local print shop, exemplifies the Co-op’s resourcefulness.
“We spent about $1,000- and two-weeks cleaning,” he says. “It was worth every bit.”
Dueñas says despite some of its hardships, the co-op continues to play a vital role in Guam’s community life: “It’s not just a place to buy fish… It’s a gathering spot for fishermen from across the region. Including those from Rota and the CNMI.”
The co-op offers these visiting fishers cheaper fuel and ice, easing their operational costs and fostering regional camaraderie.
“We try to minimize their expenses,” Dueñas says. “A sack of rice in Rota costs $75, so when they see cheaper prices here, they’re excited. We load them up with fuel and supplies, saving them money.”
As Dueñas looks to the future, his vision extends beyond immediate operational concerns. He dreams of a new co-op facility that not only meets the needs of fishers but also serves as a community center and tourist attraction, despite the challenges of navigating bureaucratic obstacles and flood zone regulations.
“My dream was to create a boardwalk, where people could have romantic walks or go fishing,” he says. “But now we have to deal with the complexities of building regulations and the challenges of maintaining a welcoming space.”
Today, Dueñas is battling health issues, yet he remains a strong advocate for the co-op’s mission and the community it serves.
“If we quit, it would be useless to have a building, a new building,” he says. Dueñas says construction could be completed in two years. Hopefully we can be in our new building and fully operation by then.” Dueñas says. “I want to move forward, in the hopes that in a couple of years, God forbid, I’m still alive.”
Dueñas hopes that someone will eventually step up to take over, ensuring that the co-op’s legacy endures. “The problem is I don’t know how to say no,” he says. “The fishermen’s co-op is so valuable to this island. It has given back more than it has received.”
For Dueñas, the co-op is more than a business — it’s a symbol of Guam’s perseverance and a beacon for future generations. He says, “The co-op means everything to Guam and the region. It’s our culture, our heritage, and our commitment to each other.”