Settling In Gently

Last night Sister Terukina and Sister Drummondo came "hallooing" at the door. They are two very tidy gray and efficient Hawaiian ladies, the last two surviving of their ten siblings. Sister Drummondo handed me a print-out and tapped it: "This month's topic is We are Created in the Image of God, and Certainly Not in the Image of Monkeys!" "Oh, I donno." I said, folding the hand-out, "I'm pretty monkey-like myself." They laughed politely. An idea struck sister Drummondo: "Do you know about Tutu and Me? At the Imiola Church? The preschool? Oh, you would LOVE it!" She patted my arm conspiratorially. "It's all haole ladies!" I must have reacted in some unexpected way. She explained. "Well, you know, everybody else is too busy working!"

On my bike ride this morning through the misty windy backroads I got to thinking about nightmarchers. They are warrior-spirits-- hungry ghosts who carry their ghost-lights through Waipio valley, along the Puna coastline, on the plains below Mauna Kea (where I was riding my bike-- safely in the daytime.) I know people who have seen them. Which is dangerous. I don't want to meet them. Because they eat you. I've heard that if you lie on your face as they pass, you'll be safe. But the best protection is to have one of them speak for you--usually an ancestor. So isn't that reassuring? You're safe, as long as you're blood-related to the vampiric night warriors. Actually, there's on exception. If one of them knows you, or for whatever reason speaks on your behalf, you'll be safe. Then I guess you're introduced all around, given a night-beer, and sent on your way. Today on my bike ride this idea was stressing me out. Not because I'm really worried that I

This morning I put baby in the envirobuggy pod (Thanks Karen!) on the bike of the bike and set out on an adventure. We biked through Hawaiian Homelands, raced some hunting dogs, stopped and fed grass to some sheep (they bleated and baby signed, "SHEEP SCARY!!!" and hid). We peeked into the W.O.W Organic tomato farm's green houses (they send all their lovely red orbs to Costco, and we can't get any at the store in town) and saw the tall plants climbing up their supports and the little wee ones just coming into little bushes. It was windy. The Trade winds from Hilo to the west bring cold rain and fog and whipping winds, and the Kona winds from the East bring hot dry air and scorched dust. It's been hot enough to send all my vegetables into bloom-- even the fennel and parsley have bolted. So the cool weather is a relief. I pedaled standing up to the top of the hill, but on the downhill side we just stood still, held up by the wind-- I had to stand up to push down to

Saturday morning of the "Pioneers of the Pacific" Campout we woke up early-- before the sun was up over the mountain. The ocean, just two sturdy paces from our tent, was so still it was completely silent.Matt went out to the end of the levy and I sat on a little pier with my sketchbook listening for baby's waking up noises and look for sharks in the water. All around from the 3 bedroom tent-suites, the semi-automatic folding inflatable couches, the climate controlled, card-table-included-two story tent-suites the aunties and uncles emerged and set out their breakfasts: hibachi grills came out, rice was boiled: sausage, pancakes, eggs, and all laid out to share in the main pavilion. I surrendered my chocolate chip rice crispy treats. I watched the kids play like wild water-things on the rocks, flirting with jumping off the pier, bragging and daring each other. "You gonna jump off the pylons?" "If I ask my grandma." "I can do a front flip." &q

The announcement said, Church Overnighter at Halau Kukui. Bring Food for breakfast and lunch. The theme was Pioneers of the Pacific-- a churchification of the unbelievably long-distance and delicate settling of Polynesia. Friday I spent the afternoon cleaning the kitchen and then making a huge mess: I made potato bread and salmon croquette sandwiches with chard, and scrambled tofu and boiled eggs and chocolate chip rice crispy squares-- I used every bowl and cutting board and knife in the kitchen. Why couldn't I just pack PB and J? Who knows. Baby and I jumped in the shower and realized to my horror that I haven't shaved my armpits for-- I donno-- maybe 12 years. And even though I go to the beach all the time and fasten my ponytail and hang my towel with nary a thought of my festooned pits -- suddenly-- at the thought of going to the beach with people I KNOW-- I was ashamed. And so with five minutes to spare, I found a mostly rust-free razor and a very rusty can of shaving crea

Check out these two great communities: Hawaii Threads For conversation about all things Hawaiian and Hawaii-- from living away to moving here, eating, reminiscing about the good ole days... good stuff. Also: Our Kuleana Calls Hawaii Activism at its nicest: make commitments on an individual level that will help keep Hawaii clean and beautiful and friendly.

So what is there to do in Kohala, the little nubby tip of the Big Island? First, drive up the mountain road listening to the Lilo and Stitch Soundtrack-- Kamehameha Children's chorus and Elvis, baby. Admire the burly cattle in the green pastures, the moth-eaten cactuses, the spindly iron-wood trees, and the odd over-wrought houses with stone lions in the driveways next to the ramshackle lean-tos. Drive down the hill to Hawi, past all the old plantation houses. They could be anywhere-- Waikapu, Maui, or Lihue, Kauai-- tight orderly little gardens of Ti leaves and potted orchids, Japanese-influence high sloping roof, latticed crawlspaces. I can imagine the interiors by conjuring up my husband's grandma's house: the memorial Japanese dolls, the hand-quilted pillows and light quilts, the ironing board draped in ti leaves to weave into leis or wrap around rice balls for a beach picnic. Drive further into Hawi: pass scruffy dusty hippy hang-outs: canvas houses and outdoor kitchen