When we arrived in O'ahu for a four year military tour, a *malihini, I was
both drawn and disappointed. Somehow I had expected it to be the way it once
was, grass huts instead of the cement city of Honolulu. Now here we were, in
the spring of 1972, on the balcony of The Pali Palms Hotel, overlooking
lush, tropical hills sprinkled with cinderblock buildings and ribboned with
roads. The Pali Palms were sparsely furnished temporary quarters for
incoming military families. It was the first time I had seen cockroaches as
large as beetles. It was the first time I'd seen modern-day men and women
wear flowers as necklaces and crowns. It was the first time I'd felt
peaceful and at home anywhere in a very long time. On the breezy **lãnai,
military wives gathered to chat over coffee, bread and fruit, the world
seeming as young as the children at our feet and ancient as the volcanic
***aina which hosted us.
aloha island
when I came you took me in
and called me sistah
The song, "Bali Hai" comes to mind, for in the midst of all the
westernization, this small spot of earth bounded by the Pacific ocean still
holds a heady, strong, primitive allure that immediately poured into my skin
upon arrival. It surrounded me in the continual beating of surf on sand, the
low masses of gray and white clouds which moved slowly across mountains,
their dark shadows brooding, drifting and sprinkling over the incredible
greenness. This spirit of the island calls and takes hold of one through
nerve and pore of skin, through eyes, whether open to its beauty or closed
in sleep, the nose, mouth and ears through scents, tastes and sounds. It is
visible and invisible, deeply and intuitively sensed, as real as any human
person. As I write this, I am aware of the same presence still inside me,
dormant, but very alive.
papaya
papaya to the core
papaya seed
Looking through a screen of pink plumeria blossoms into the valleys one
morning as I was nursing our four month old firstborn son, I commented to
the other young women that the island seemed forever pregnant. This began a
round of lighthearted talk about pregnancy, childbirth and children. I
remember making another comment that, although I enjoyed my first pregnancy,
I would never have babies one right after another, and that it would be a
few years before I'd consider having another child. This was followed by a
consensus of agreement, the wise shaking of heads and an exchange of knowing
looks. It wasn't long before my husband and I found a small, two bedroom,
cinderblock apartment in Honololu within walking distance to Wakiki Beach,
the zoo, a park and the canal where groups of men practiced rowing in
longboats. I was already in love with this island, the sounds of its voices,
the easy going lifestyle, and underneath it all, primal drum-songs hidden in
its heartbeat. Within a month of arrival, I learned that I was pregnant with
our second child, our daughter of Hawaii.
she is laughing
Hawai`i aloha ****
bird of paradise
* newcomer
** verandah
*** land
**** beloved Hawaii