Hawaii: Molokai Is Not For Sale (cont.)

Before I can ask these questions, Hano slides a burned CD into his stereo and starts rapping along with some beats he found on the internet.  Most of his lyrics are about protecting Hawaiian culture and resenting white people.  I lean across and turn down the music, saying, “When you sing that haole’s are assholes, no matter how much I understand where it comes from, I have to gasp.  I just have to.” 

“Supaman-Supaman-Supaman” he continues, turning up the volume and bopping along, “I’m the Supaman.”  The rapping continues as we slowly make our way along the palm tree-lined road.  He explains that he must live up to his name, Hanohano, which is Hawaiian for above everything else.  “So I aim that,” he explains.  “I am that.

***

The Hanohano Room is the name of an upscale restaurant perched atop the Sheraton Waikiki Hotel and Resort on Oahu. It promises a dining experience encompassing everything the name implies -- glorious, distinctive, and with elevated views.  Thirty stories into the sky, the restaurant offers a grand view of Oahu’s south shore including Waikiki beach, the tourist playground of Hawaii. 

At an anti-development meeting on Molokai, a resident stood at the podium and announced that when he visits this hotel and sees traditional Hawaiian torch lighting ceremonies being performed for tourists, “I don’t feel good as a Hawaiian.”   Oahu’s flickering skyline of development, visible from Molokai, shimmers across the twenty-five miles that separate the two islands.  

***

Hano makes his way down Kaunakakai’s main street, passing a handful of saloon-style shops including a hardware store, bakery and Mango Mart.  Through the storefront window of Imamura, an entire wall of fabric spools showcase bright aloha prints in every colour.  Tucked behind this wide street is Shop 2 Beauty Salon, where customers can get a haircut and purchase a gun in one stop.  Hano drives us out of town and heads toward the shoreline to catch the ferry to Maui. 

We arrive at the wharf, and park the truck near a row of bobbing sailboats.  “I’m really famous on Maui,” Hano tells me.  He and his close friend, ‘Ua, have a public access television show about preservation of Hawaiian culture.  Hano shows me his tattoos and talks about his family history, describing an idyllic past when there was perfect harmony and no disease. “Until,” he explains, “the haoles showed up, destroyed everything, and brought disease, like gonorrhea.” 

Hano is full speed ahead explaining the island’s history.  It is full of legend and fables and gods that I could not have even dreamed up.   “This is my grandmother’s house,” he says, referring to the land.  “Imagine a bunch of people showing up and telling you that you gotta pay to hang out in your grandmother’s house.”  By the dirt under Hano’s fingernails, I can see that he spends a lot of time in the rooms of his grandmother’s house. 

This is not the first time I have heard these sentiments.  At the La’au Point testimony – public declarations on why the island’s southwest shores should not be developed – my cheeks burned when a man said the island “attracts flies from the outside.”  Molokai’s Planning Commission was looking for concrete questions and criticism directly related to an environmental impact statement, part of a proposal to develop 200 luxury condominiums. 

Development opponents said the plan threatened water supply and would devastate bountiful Hawaiian lands.  For a five full hours, Molokaiians stepped to the microphone and gave passionate declarations about not wanting to become as developed as Honolulu.  A kupuna, or elder, spoke about the island’s keiki, saying, “We want them to be principals, doctors, and nurses- not staff at hotels.”  A man  told the crowd and Commission, “I’ll not make a whore out of my culture.”  Another resident said, “When tourists visit this island, they say ‘FIGHT.’  We’re gonna fight.  And if we die for it, that’s okay.”

***

“How many of you are from Molokai?” Hano asks a group of tourists boarding the Maui Princess ferry.  The late afternoon sun hangs heavy, reflecting off the water and onto the sweltering pavement.   He is at the top of the list if there are empty seats, and Hano is watching the boat closely. 

“So back to my questions,” I say and ask what he was awarded for winning the Games.  A straggling passenger runs up to the boat but spots Hano first.  He is a fan of the television program.  The men shake hands.  Hano silently turns back to me, brings the tips of his index fingers together and then draws a paper-sized rectangle in the air between us.  “A certificate,” he says.  I tell him that last year’s winner got a Samoan Crab.

Some of the occupants of the nearly full boat have nothing to do but sit and watch this exchange between the two of us.  I ask Hano for the Hawaiian equivalent to “on your mark, get set, go!” All of the eyeballs, the blazing heat, make me conscious of the strange scene we are creating – Hano in a red cape and Crocs, carrying no luggage, and me with a crown lei of leaves around my head.

An empty look spreads across Hano’s face, so I remind him that he shouted the words all day long.  Perhaps our eavesdroppers on the boat wonder why there is so much urgency to this question.  Why I have accompanied this man in a cape to the end of the wharf seconds before the ferry launch to find out the Hawaiian equivalent to “on your mark, get set, go.”  He explains that it is more of an exchange between judge and participants – Makaukau?”…“Ae!”…”O’IA!” which loosely translates to “Are you ready?” “Yes!” “Go!”  We part contented- I have my story, and he is on the boat and off to Maui for the night.

That evening, I ran into a man who faced off against Hano at the Games.  He competed in a pair of sturdy work boots and smelled faintly of farm.  I tell him I think it’s great that he and his friends put so much work into the competition, that they are great role models for the keiki.  His response is blank faced.  I realize that he would never think in terms of being a “role model”— it’s just how things are done.  The Makahiki Games come around, so you go to the field to participate. 

“Where’s Hano?” he asks, and it’s the first time this man has steered our discussion in any direction.  I explain that Hano left for Maui, while I try to remember the last time this man may have seen us together.  I can already hear the rumours flying.  Trying to change the subject, I whip out my notebook and ask him to double-check my list of schools that participated in the Makahiki Games.  He runs his eyes over the lists and admits to favouring his alma mater throughout the day.

“So where did you and Hano go?”  he asks, and I give a response full of concrete answers. The questioning brings me back to the restrictiveness of a tight community.  I feel irritated.  I realize my actions must be careful; that they will be observed and talked about, exaggerated and repeated. 

Page 2 of 2  Previous Page

All contents copyright ©2008 Pology Magazine. Unauthorized use of any content is strictly prohibited.