Getting into the Hawaiian Spirit
Hawaii. I was told before I came that the Big Island was being developed with corporate interest in mind, but I did not imagine that Western values and practices would be so instilled in the local/Hawaiian people: namely, asshole-ness. Also, a certain kind of mindset prevails: . . . hostile anger, boredom, resignation. Alcoholism catalyzes the downward spiral of a people that feel painfully disconnected from their cultural essence. I thought that there would be a resistance movement here that would take the form of people who retained the "old ways," without scratches on their shoulders . . . a people untouched, who observe what is happening (Americanization), but who do not internalize it. Perhaps there is, but for the most part, the myth of the exotic, erotic Hawaiian has been dispelled from my mind. I knew that the portrayals of native Hawaiians in their leis and hoola skirts donned by tourist companies and travel agencies were a bit phony, but I thought they were imitations of something still in existence: a rich and flourishing culture. But that culture has for the most part been decimated, and from what I can tell, most people are just struggling, grudgingly, to survive. It's very expensive to live here. Property values are going up, and people are actually being displaced in the local government's attempt to bring more affluent gringos into town.
Okay, I’m not ready to write a thesis, so I will tell you about the horses two that live on the other side of the belly high lava stone wall that lines the farms property. Most of the day they spend grazing on an overabundance of succulent vegetation. In the afternoon, I find them standing side by side next to one another, head to tail, enjoying one another's company. I observed them watching me as I drank water meditatively in the outdoor kitchen. I decided to climb over the stone wall and approach them, but I was pretty timid about it. I didn't know if these horses had a freaky childhood or what, if they would try to whack me on the side of my head with their robust jaws, or if they would let me pet them without resistance. So for a moment, I just stood before them and bowed my head a bit. The horse with its head facing me nudged the one with it's butt towards me, and it turned around so they were both looking at me curiously. The younger looking one took a step forward as I raised my hand to touch its head. It landed on its crown and I could tell immediately that this horse was in need of attention, of touch. I caressed its jaw and smoothed my palm underneath its neck, as its eyelids became heavy with satisfaction. I didn't want to make the other horse jealous so I ran my fingers through its mane, which was a lot like healthy human hair. As I did that, the other one reached its head underneath the arc of its companions neck and touched my arm with the tip of its mouth, so we were all in physical contact. These creatures are massive and muscular, and barely utilize their own strength (they are very leisurely). I now visit them whenever I can. Just yesterday, as I stood flossing my teeth near their hang out spot, they took time off from their noshing to trot over towards me , with wide bright eyes and horse smiles on their faces. I have learned how to speak to them. Besides communing in silence, they like to be whispered to (they are alarmed by normal voice projection).
There are other creatures that live on the farm. At night, toads hop out from the bases of the banana trees and live their nocturnal life. I don't worry about stepping on them because their reflexes are so fast, they just jump out of the way. There's also this crazy blue and yellow macaw parrot, O’lili, that chews holes near the edges of the plastic roof of my cabin and squawks "Stop it!" and "How are you? How are you? *Squawk!* How are you?" When it gets on my nerves and I can't stand it anymore, I leave the farm for the day. It's a bit rambunctious. For example, it tried to tip over a bucket on one of the dog’s heads the other day while it was sniffing under the table that the parrot was standing on. Toi, who was standing nearby, just laughed.
At the moment, I work with a few middle aged fellows and I like them because they’re educated (except for the one guy Dan who recently cut off his index finger while he was sawing styrofoam), friendly, appreciative, happy to be living the simple life. And they always thank me for my work. Pretty soon Dave is going to take me for a ride on the back of his motorcycle.
It was a great morning when I went to work for Sun Bear Produce six miles down the road, situated higher up on the mountain -- a place that receives more rainfall and is about twice as big. For four hours in the morning, I harvested baby lettuce among mostly young workers against a backdrop of paradise. All of the kids (between the ages of 22 and 60, actually) were happy to be there, and totally WILLING to work. Most of them smiled whenever I looked at them, glowed with a satisfaction derived from living a balanced life. They were interested in who I was, and each was a "character." Harvy (the farm manager) as far as I can tell, is a person of integrity. He hires people based on personality and how in need they are of a job. And he pays them well ($11/hour). He doesn't have a problem talking to you like a boss -- like telling you what you need to improve on (the first batch of lettuce I picked was kind of dirty) and giving orders on what needs to be done. All in all, he seems to be a good balance between authority figure and sincere friend, and it shows in the quality of work that is performed on the farm. It's a beautiful, well maintained place. I think I'll be going there about a once every week or two, hopefully more in the near future.
Now, the sunsets: Each one is different. Near the City of Refuge, Pam and I sat on the coarse lava rock and watched as the sun transformed from a brilliant yellow sun to a subtle yet pervasive pinkish red. Its light was soft enough that you could stare straight at it without damaging your eyes. There were a few strips of clouds in the foreground, standing before its awesome luminescence. Their position allowed for a most spectacular illusion: as the sun sunk behind one of them, a semi circle was created in the sky that slowly shrunk into "oblivion" behind the cloud. The whole sun appeared once again before disappearing behind yet another cloud form. Finally, it emerged from beneath the last cloud, slowly, steadily, gently, as though the sky were giving birth. It emerged without a sound, and all onlookers were dazzled by the spectacle. The water reflected is light, creating what looked like a pathway from me to the horizion were the sun was situated. Something inside of me opened up -- my lungs parted themselves like two curtains, my heart became more prominent, my chest expanded into what felt like a wide inner grin. There was something about seeing the sun do this. I mean, throughout the day, it will not let you look at it without blinding you. It's like you constantly have to bow your head to it, respect it, like a high and mighty emperor that remains seated above you. But now I was eye to eye with it, and I did not need to cower. There was no fear of getting burnt. I was at its level, and it was energizing me without overwhelming my mortal senses. As it finally disappeared below the horizon, the dogs on the beach started barking and Pam and I clapped our hands.
Yes, Hawaii. The "spirit" is still here. But many people are becoming too busy to stop and pay attention. That is why I came out here. To STOP. I am still chasing my tail a bit, haven't fully unwound, but I am slowing down.
Okay, I’m not ready to write a thesis, so I will tell you about the horses two that live on the other side of the belly high lava stone wall that lines the farms property. Most of the day they spend grazing on an overabundance of succulent vegetation. In the afternoon, I find them standing side by side next to one another, head to tail, enjoying one another's company. I observed them watching me as I drank water meditatively in the outdoor kitchen. I decided to climb over the stone wall and approach them, but I was pretty timid about it. I didn't know if these horses had a freaky childhood or what, if they would try to whack me on the side of my head with their robust jaws, or if they would let me pet them without resistance. So for a moment, I just stood before them and bowed my head a bit. The horse with its head facing me nudged the one with it's butt towards me, and it turned around so they were both looking at me curiously. The younger looking one took a step forward as I raised my hand to touch its head. It landed on its crown and I could tell immediately that this horse was in need of attention, of touch. I caressed its jaw and smoothed my palm underneath its neck, as its eyelids became heavy with satisfaction. I didn't want to make the other horse jealous so I ran my fingers through its mane, which was a lot like healthy human hair. As I did that, the other one reached its head underneath the arc of its companions neck and touched my arm with the tip of its mouth, so we were all in physical contact. These creatures are massive and muscular, and barely utilize their own strength (they are very leisurely). I now visit them whenever I can. Just yesterday, as I stood flossing my teeth near their hang out spot, they took time off from their noshing to trot over towards me , with wide bright eyes and horse smiles on their faces. I have learned how to speak to them. Besides communing in silence, they like to be whispered to (they are alarmed by normal voice projection).
There are other creatures that live on the farm. At night, toads hop out from the bases of the banana trees and live their nocturnal life. I don't worry about stepping on them because their reflexes are so fast, they just jump out of the way. There's also this crazy blue and yellow macaw parrot, O’lili, that chews holes near the edges of the plastic roof of my cabin and squawks "Stop it!" and "How are you? How are you? *Squawk!* How are you?" When it gets on my nerves and I can't stand it anymore, I leave the farm for the day. It's a bit rambunctious. For example, it tried to tip over a bucket on one of the dog’s heads the other day while it was sniffing under the table that the parrot was standing on. Toi, who was standing nearby, just laughed.
At the moment, I work with a few middle aged fellows and I like them because they’re educated (except for the one guy Dan who recently cut off his index finger while he was sawing styrofoam), friendly, appreciative, happy to be living the simple life. And they always thank me for my work. Pretty soon Dave is going to take me for a ride on the back of his motorcycle.
It was a great morning when I went to work for Sun Bear Produce six miles down the road, situated higher up on the mountain -- a place that receives more rainfall and is about twice as big. For four hours in the morning, I harvested baby lettuce among mostly young workers against a backdrop of paradise. All of the kids (between the ages of 22 and 60, actually) were happy to be there, and totally WILLING to work. Most of them smiled whenever I looked at them, glowed with a satisfaction derived from living a balanced life. They were interested in who I was, and each was a "character." Harvy (the farm manager) as far as I can tell, is a person of integrity. He hires people based on personality and how in need they are of a job. And he pays them well ($11/hour). He doesn't have a problem talking to you like a boss -- like telling you what you need to improve on (the first batch of lettuce I picked was kind of dirty) and giving orders on what needs to be done. All in all, he seems to be a good balance between authority figure and sincere friend, and it shows in the quality of work that is performed on the farm. It's a beautiful, well maintained place. I think I'll be going there about a once every week or two, hopefully more in the near future.
Now, the sunsets: Each one is different. Near the City of Refuge, Pam and I sat on the coarse lava rock and watched as the sun transformed from a brilliant yellow sun to a subtle yet pervasive pinkish red. Its light was soft enough that you could stare straight at it without damaging your eyes. There were a few strips of clouds in the foreground, standing before its awesome luminescence. Their position allowed for a most spectacular illusion: as the sun sunk behind one of them, a semi circle was created in the sky that slowly shrunk into "oblivion" behind the cloud. The whole sun appeared once again before disappearing behind yet another cloud form. Finally, it emerged from beneath the last cloud, slowly, steadily, gently, as though the sky were giving birth. It emerged without a sound, and all onlookers were dazzled by the spectacle. The water reflected is light, creating what looked like a pathway from me to the horizion were the sun was situated. Something inside of me opened up -- my lungs parted themselves like two curtains, my heart became more prominent, my chest expanded into what felt like a wide inner grin. There was something about seeing the sun do this. I mean, throughout the day, it will not let you look at it without blinding you. It's like you constantly have to bow your head to it, respect it, like a high and mighty emperor that remains seated above you. But now I was eye to eye with it, and I did not need to cower. There was no fear of getting burnt. I was at its level, and it was energizing me without overwhelming my mortal senses. As it finally disappeared below the horizon, the dogs on the beach started barking and Pam and I clapped our hands.
Yes, Hawaii. The "spirit" is still here. But many people are becoming too busy to stop and pay attention. That is why I came out here. To STOP. I am still chasing my tail a bit, haven't fully unwound, but I am slowing down.
posted by Kaela at 11:45 AM
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