By Ron Rocky Coloma
At Plaza de España Park in Hagåtña, Curtis Bowermaster doesn’t fade into the background. Wearing a bold animal-print outfit, the 46-year-old is hard to miss as he moves with purpose near the Dulce Nombre de Maria Cathedral-Basilica. For Bowermaster, homelessness is not just his reality—it is also where he has found his purpose.
“My day-to-day life is about helping the homeless family out here,” Bowermaster said. “I deal with people—sometimes their mentality just goes out of hand. I help them calm down.”
Bowermaster has been living on the streets of Guam for seven years. Over time, he has become a steady presence in Hagåtña, offering help, guidance and sometimes even a safe space for those who need it most.
“I make sure my family out here has food to eat, and at night, I make sure they’re in their spots, resting or safe,” he said. “Out here in Agana, it’s all about respect.”
Bowermaster doesn’t just support his community— he has also built relationships with local vendors like Mr. Ben, affectionately known as “the coconut man.”
“He’s a really good Filipino man,” Bowermaster said warmly. “He told me he’d pay me if I helped him, but I told him, ‘You don’t have to pay me. I’ll do it from my heart.’”
Bowermaster works with Mr. Ben as part of his effort to set an example for others. He encourages his peers to find ways to earn money beyond panhandling, although he understands why some people turn to it.
“There’s nothing wrong with panhandling,” he said. “That’s how some people survive. I used to stand out there, too. But I got tired of just walking up to people like that.”
Now, Bowermaster focuses on helping others find a sense of stability.
He became homeless nearly a decade ago, and the transition wasn’t easy.
“When I first came out here, I was scared,” Bowermaster recalled. “I didn’t know anyone, and it was a whole different world. But after a year, I got to know people. By now, some of them feel like family.”
The Sisters of Mercy at the Academy of Our Lady of Guam play a major role in Bowermaster’s routine, providing breakfast several times a week. For him, it’s more than just a meal—it’s a way to take care of others.
“I feed my family out here for breakfast, thanks to the Sisters,” he said. “They’ve been doing this for years, on and off. They’re really good people.”
On Tuesdays and Thursdays, breakfast is served at 6:30 a.m. On Sundays, the timing depends on Mass but usually starts around 7 or 7:15 a.m.
“They’ve stopped and started the program a few times, but they always come back,” Bowermaster said. “I respect them for what they do.”
Life on the streets comes with dangers that most people don’t think about. Bowermaster has faced violence, misunderstandings and health scares.
“Just recently, someone I know got beaten up,” he shared. “Then the guy doing it accused me of setting him up, which I didn’t. He came over to me, mouthing off and it could’ve gotten ugly.”
He has also had moments where his life was on the line. “I almost got stabbed twice,” he said. “But I didn’t call the cops. I’m not like that. I give people chances. It doesn’t matter who they are or where they’re from.”
Bowermaster pointed to a hospital wristband still wrapped around his wrist. He’s been told not to remove it because of his low heart rate. “My health isn’t great, but I keep going,” he said.
Despite his own health struggles, Bowermaster remains keenly aware of the broader challenges faced by the homeless community, especially the stark contrast in how they’re treated on Guam compared to the mainland United States.
“In the States, I’ve seen homeless people sitting by the biggest buildings, and no one bothers them,” he said. “Sometimes, cops will even bring them donuts or drinks.”
But on Guam, the experience is different. “Even if you’re just sitting by the church, you can get chased off,” he explained.
He is frustrated by how law enforcement handles situations involving the homeless. “The cops out here, they lie,” Bowermaster said bluntly. “Even when you’re telling the truth, they’ll twist it around. We’re still the people of Guam, but it feels like they don’t see us that way sometimes.”
Despite these frustrations, Bowermaster acknowledged the efforts of Guam’s governor. “She’s doing the best she can,” he said. “She’s trying to help everyone on the island.”
When asked what he wishes people understood about homelessness, Bowermaster’s answer is simple but powerful.
“We’re still people,” he said. “We’re part of this community. We just need a little help, a little kindness.”
Bowermaster believes that small gestures can make a big difference.
“Sometimes, it’s just someone saying ‘hi’ or offering a meal,” he said. “It’s not about handouts—it’s about giving people a chance to get back on their feet.”
For Bowermaster, life on the streets has become about more than just survival. It’s about community, respect and doing what he can to make life a little easier for the people around him. “Out here, we take care of each other,” he said. “That’s what it’s all about.”
In the Harmon area, tucked into the woods on Route 16 were crudely built structures made of construction scraps, topped with recycled old tarps functioning as the roof, and cardboard laid on the ground to simulate flooring. The conspicuous encampment was cluttered with old mattresses, bedding and grocery carts filled with discarded things salvaged from dumpsters.
This enclave was home to several homeless individuals—a haven of sorts—until a government team swooped down on Jan. 24 to bulldoze the shanties. This is a cyclical event for many of Guam’s homeless, who usually squat from one place to another to get by.
“The government bothers people who don't bother anybody,” said Julian Lunschin, one of the occupants of the now dismantled encampment. “Some people who don't have a place to stay, try and find a place to make a home and do what they need to do to get things back together.”
Lunschin has been homeless for three years after he was evicted from a Section 8 apartment in Mangilao. He tried to fight— but failed— the landlord’s claim that he owed $7,000 in rent.
“We're trying our best to do what we need to do. We even go out and try to make money, to make ends meet,” Lunschin said. “We manage to get by and do what we need to do to get things done.”
Lunschin said the plight of the homeless people is the epitome of government neglect and incompetence. “They don’t do the things they said they were going to do before they got elected,” he said. “They said they were going to help the homeless, but they turn their backs on what they said they're supposed to do.”
An ex-convict, who requested anonymity, said he was forced to live in the encampment due to his inability to land a job.
“It's not like I don't want a job. I really like to work and I’m looking for a job,” said the man who was recently released from prison. He was convicted of assault, which he said was done in self-defense. His criminal background brings him no luck getting employed.
Before serving his prison sentence, he was living with his family. “My brother has stage four cancer. I don't want to give him more problems, so I removed myself,” he said. “I've been struggling for so many years in a row already. When is it going to stop? Then, when we try to build something, (the government) wants us to get out. We don't hurt anybody. Instead of trying to help us, they just push us.”
(With additional reports from Mar-Vic Cagurangan)
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