It’s been a while; my focus has been elsewhere.
Yes, there has been a two-year global pandemic. Yes, political antipathy has driven a stake into everyday civil discourse. And yes, everything that ‘Iokepa Hanalei ‘Imaikalani and I have lived and shared these past 25 years has actually prepared us for these challenges. It has further convinced us that those ancestral Hawaiian Grandmothers knew about which they spoke. “Faced with seemingly insurmountable obstacles - even apocalyptic ones - some of us will be crushed; some of us will barely notice.”
Let me be clear. Theirs was not a declaration that the wealthy or healthy will transcend hardship, but the poor and ill will be defeated.
Quite the contrary. It has never been about those steep mountains, occasional pandemics, or momentary political wrong-turns that seemingly block our path. It is - has always been - who we are, how we behave in the face of them. Are we who we claim to be when it’s easy - when the sun is bright, our marriage stable, and the kids healthy? Life’s pandemics are opportunities to tether our words to our actions.
Kaua’i has proven itself mightily during these past couple years. Native Hawaiian culture, above all else, has always been about ohana. Fundamentally, that means: “Everything you see that you can wrap your heart around is your responsibility to take care of."
To that end: our Mayor Derek Kawakami set the example. From the Covid 19 get-go, he was as unbudging as he was compassionate. “We will not allow our kupuna (elders) to die.” In the face of intense Chamber of Commerce pressure to keep the Island open to tourism, Mayor Kawakami shut it down tight. As a result: for eighteen months, Covid 19 was largely a distant story; the oceans and beaches returned to pristine health - sea turtles laid eggs again, endangered monk seals thrived.. The single road that circles our small island was functioning to its intended capacity.
With tourism dead in the water, hotels and restaurants closed down, and a huge percentage of the Island’s working population were without paychecks. But they were not without three healthy meals a day. We are a small and singular community, and we do not easily separate our own well-being from the other’s. The Native Hawaiian Grandmothers told us. “Giving and receiving are just one gesture. Everyone gives; everyone receives. No one gets to opt out of that circle.” And so it was.
‘Iokepa works hard these days on our small fruit farm.. Our bananas, mangoes, papayas, avocados, grapefruit, and lemons go to the homeless encampment at the County Park where we lived for 17 years. Our neighbors distribute garden vegetables and labor in communal kitchens. Ubiquitous fisherman donate their fresh-caught ahi and mahi mahi. There is no single way to share our bounty. The Island’s population has near-doubled in my quarter of a century here, but we remain much too small to ignore each other’s needs.
To all of this, I am moved to say, “Of course.” The Mayor echoes, “That’s who we are.”
A long time ago now, those ancestral Grandmothers told ‘Iokepa Hanalei ‘Imaikalani this. “What will happen on the Hawaiian Islands will be a stepping stone for cultures around the world to emulate.” To which I add, “It’s about time.”