E Ola Nā Iwi!

On February 25, 2019February 26, 2019 By jandillIn Hawaiian Values, Social JusticeLeave a comment

A few weeks ago I had the opportunity to gather with several hundred children, parents, and friends at the State Capitol to rally for early education funding. It was encouraging to see the organizations comprising ‘Eleu, the Hawaiian early education association, gathering to petition our policy makers to make the preparation of young children and families a significant priority of our government.

The theme we are using more frequently is an adaptation of a greeting the Maasai people from northern, central, and southern Kenya and northern Tanzania use when they meet each other. The powerful phrase, “And how are the children?” proclaims the community’s priorities and reminds the speakers of their responsibility. In Hawaiian, the phrase is “Maikaʻi anei nā keiki?” (Are the children well?) and it is a question we should be continually asking ourselves in our private and public lives. We must challenge ourselves and our leaders to take seriously the need for public and personal attention to, as well as investment in, the formation and care of our children.

What is the reality of our community’s concern for early education? Do we understand that if we don’t make it a priority we are faced with the grim reality that our children will not be prepared with the needed skill sets, Hawaiian values and aspirations when it is their turn to define our dear Hawaiʻi? Experts tell us that the vast majority of cognitive, executive, and motor skills of children are in place by the end of their third year. What are we doing with these irreplaceable thousand days in the formation of our children? Are we investing significant resources to ensure that they have the very best opportunity to develop these needed skills to their maximum potential? Have we put in place the support to families to assist them in preparing their children for success? Let’s take a look at the reality of our current answer to “Maikaʻi anei nā keiki?”

The State of Hawaiʻi is currently one of the “bottom feeder” states when it comes to public investment in early childhood and family education. Approximately half of the children entering kindergarten have not had quality preschool preparation. According to the Executive Office on Early Learning, “Today, more than 40 percent of Hawaiʻi’s children start kindergarten without having participated in an early learning program and many of them are 18-24 months behind their peers who have attended a program.” Numerous national studies have shown that children without preschool preparation have been shown to lag behind their peers and often fail to catch up during their formal education experience. The social costs are chilling in terms of employment opportunities, stress on the formal education system, future criminal behavior, substance abuse, and the hidden costs of depression and mental illness. This is part of the reason that the Federal Reserve Bank of Minneapolis conducted a study a number of years ago that projected that investment IN early education provides an avoided social cost return of $7-17 for every dollar spent. We should be clamoring for this kind of ROI (Return On Investment) in our investment of public resources.

I was encouraged that there is a very small but growing realization of the importance of early education and family and child interactive learning. Much of the activity in Hawaiʻi is in the private, non-profit sector where family education, prenatal and 0-3 year-old focused programs have found innovative ways to reach out to the isolated and poor with early education services. Several of these programs have gotten local, national, and international recognition. In the public sector, there is growing talk about universal preschool for four year olds funded through public schools, and the state government has established an Executive Office on Early Learning that seeks to coordinate private/public partnerships in early education. Lots of seemingly good action. Drilling down, however, we find little substantive investment that will bring about the needed transformational change. Universal preschool through the public system is faced with several barriers. The first is the fact that the system is struggling with achieving success in its core K-12 mission. Integrating universal preschool presents a whole new set of issues with no clear path for overworked administrators and staff. Attached to this is the fact that the current plan is to use existing teachers for the preschool adventure. Trained early education professionals are in short supply and there is no clear indication how that need is to be addressed. Finally, I read in the morning paper that our community is planning to spend over $500 million for a new prison (not including an additional $40 million to expand the women’s prison) and is struggling to keep the cost of an as yet uncompleted and questionably efficient choo choo train (heavy rail) under nine billion (yes, billion) dollars, while widely proclaiming an astounding commitment to invest in twenty new preschool classrooms with only $14 million in infrastructure costs and $2 million in staff costs. I’ve never been real sharp in math, but the figures shame me and should shame all of us. A heart of a community is seen in the distribution of its investment of its resources. It is clear we embrace self-deception if we ask “Maikaʻi anei nā keiki?” and expect a positive response. It is clear by our public investments that our children are undervalued and we are paying to correct our past failures and not recognizing our need to invest in a path of success for our children.

I know the issues are complicated, the resources limited, the public courage often lacking, but let me suggest we consider a few points to share with those in authority over us. One, investment in early education is a needed and proven path for success for our children and families and it needs to be if not at the top, close to the top of priorities for our public policy makers. Two, as a community we need to imbed a stream of funding that is totally dedicated to funding a significant investment in early education for our people. There are a number of examples of communities that have committed a long-term tax especially focused on making sure their children and families all have access to quality early education. We need to ask our political leaders to explore alternatives and then put in place a mechanism that provides the resources without undue ongoing political interference. Three, the public programs of early education need to work closely with the private, non-profit organizations committed to quality early education for children and families. There is a wide and untapped area of mutual interest and potential partnerships that need to be explored and used for the benefit of our children. The Office of Early Learning is a good starting point.

A final point in these musings about our children, our community, and our conscience brings us to the anchor question of how all this relates to the host Hawaiian culture. The question, “Maikaʻi anei nā keiki?” is an important cultural question. What should our answer be from a cultural perspective? What is the right response within the traditions and history of this unique place? After discussing this question with language and cultural experts the positive and affirmative response in Hawaiian that we need to strive for as a community is “E Ola Nā Iwi!!” or “the bones live!!” When the question and response is put in a cultural framework, it becomes clear that “ka mea huna,” or the secret wisdom of the phrase, is that the bones of our ancestors, the lives of our ancestors, the aspirations of our ancestors for us, are ALIVE in the health and success of our children and we commit to make it a priority for our lives. Blessings.

As a bonus, I’ve attached an electronic link to the 2018 annual report of our foundation. Ke Akua pū.

Current Frustrations and Connections to the Past

On November 26, 2018November 30, 2018 By jandillIn Hawaiian Values, Social Justice, Wahi PanaLeave a comment

It is interesting to watch the current local, state, and national political reality unfold. It is obvious that we’re in the midst of a “redefinition” of political life in our country. The days of consensus and compromise have been replaced by strident partisanship and an amazing narrowing of the definition of public interests. This has happened on both sides of the political spectrum and the “public” has not been blessed by the effects of this redefinition.

In a sense, all of this is in part the product of our personal isolation driven by the technological revolution which gave us all the benefits and problems of social media. We can, indeed, reach out to the most remote place on the globe instantly, but we struggle with understanding and communicating with our neighbors and coworkers. For the most part, our children spend more time in the electronic universe than in face to face engagement with capable mentors. Life’s issues around relationships get defined by “apps” rather than personal interaction. In the political realm, it makes it easier to vilify and marginalize those who disagree with you.

xkcd.com

spheroid.com

All of this tends to leave me frustrated and quick to join the blame game rituals we see on our television screen every evening. What has helped my frustrations a lot lately was my wife’s gift of a DNA analysis of my ancestry. Though it sat on my desk for a long time, I finally got up the courage to do the sample and send it in. The background to my anxiety rests in the fact that most of us in Hawai‘i are very mixed racially. We tend to pick and choose the strain we want to identify with and build our lives around it. The problem emerges, as it has with a few of my friends, when the DNA profile tells you that you’ve been rooting for the wrong tribe or you are a part of an ethnicity never revealed to you previously! On the other hand, the analysis can reaffirm your identity and connection to a culture or group. My wife had always thought she was part Jewish because her feet tapped involuntarily when Hava Nagila was played at Jewish weddings! Her analysis confirmed that, indeed, 15% of her is Jewish!!

I had always been told and believed that my maternal grandfather was Chinese, my maternal grandmother was Hawaiian, my paternal grandmother was an orphan but believed to have been Scottish, and my paternal grandfather of mixed “Pennsylvania Dutch” blood. There also swirled around me stories of my Hawaiian grandmother having Spanish blood, but nothing substantial to back it up. All of this has led me through my life to identify with my Hawaiian heritage. As I sent my sample in for DNA testing there was no lack of anxiety about what my true pedigree might be!

When the results came, it took me a couple of days before I finally opened them. My dominant ethnicity (27%) is Polynesian (I presume Hawaiian)!! The next is Celtic from Scotland, Ireland and Wales, followed by Indochinese, British, and a small dash of Scandinavian. I knew I was mongrelized, but when I found out I was the mongrel I always thought I was, I was relieved and happy.

What does this have to do with the first two paragraphs of this adventure? For me, it has a lot to do with our frustrations with how we communicate and how we develop public policy. From my little perch I have come to believe that a clear and honest view of self and where and who you have come from is a major building block for positive engagement with others. Hawaiians have a very strong sense of place and genealogy that when understood and applied, can have a strong influence on how we view ourselves and how we interact with others. This has given me hope that as we teach and mentor our young drawing from our own connection to our past, we have an opportunity to prepare the next generation on how to positively connect with the needs and thoughts of those around them.

uncle aaron — PIDF Cultural Specialist Aaron Mahi passing on Hawaiian traditions, culture, and knowledge to 6th grade students at an imu workshop

Our traditions and culture teach us that true community does not rest on intellectual concepts or catchy political phrases but rather true connection comes from a shared commitment to each other’s welfare and resiliency. I say this because I can point to the lessons of my culture and the history of my extended family. These put the frustrations of the nightly news into perspective and should daily challenge me to be a connection to the lessons of the past for the new generation. My tie to the rich pool of family and cultural history helps me sort out what is important personally, corporately, and politically. Perhaps such a perspective will help you lower the level of angst we face in our world of instant “connection”!

To remind me of the lessons my elders have shared, I have put together a small collection of reflections that you might find helpful as you stir your personal history and ponder how they might provide clear direction in the midst of contemporary challenges.

Reflections on Sharks and Cursed Clothes

On February 15, 2018 By jandillIn Hawaiian Values, Reflections on Days Gone ByLeave a comment

Over the past couple of years, I have written down some of my memories of growing up and listening to the words of my kūpuna. Seventy years ago it was clearly the responsibility of children to be SEEN and not HEARD in gatherings. In the presence of adults we were to keep quiet while they shared thoughts or go and fetch something they had left outside or in the other room. This gave us a lot of time to listen as they shared stories, insights, frustrations and aloha with each other. All these times, woven together with impromptu songs and spontaneous hula, usually ended with Uncle Larry Holt’s tremendous basso voice combined with Aunty Emma’s lyric soprano in the Hawaiian wedding song! Heady stuff for a five or six year old and things cherished still in my old age!

Ayers ohana — A small Ayers family gathering 50 years ago. In the middle wearing a blue shirt and glasses is my Uncle Joe Hinau, the storyteller in our ‘ohana. To the right of him is my mother Hattie, and to the left, an older Ayers cousin.

Lots of history, family lore, strident opinions, and gossip swirled around during those ‘ohana nights at our house. All of the latest tales in the relatively small Hawaiian professional community were shared and amplified with heads shaking and phrases like, “Can you believe….?” as they were exchanged across the room. The spicier bits of gossip were whispered out of the hearing of our young ears and usually accompanied with significant eye movements. The stories that were shared in the presence of the kids are the ones that have remained vivid memories throughout my life. A couple of them I’d like to share with you in this posting.

I got to know my mother’s cousin, Joseph Hinau, after college. Uncle Joe was the elder Hawaiian member of our Hawaiian extended family, a bachelor, and a gifted story teller and prankster. Uncle Joe and I hit it off and I was always eager to go get him and bring him to the ‘ohana gatherings. During one of our hours in the car, Uncle Joe shared with me the story of our ‘aumākua (family protector), Manō, the shark. Uncle Joe had been given to his Tūtū when he was an infant and was raised under the guidance of his grandfather. It was through this relationship and the tutoring of his grandfather, that he learned of our family’s connection to the shark and the importance of this animal in our family’s history. Uncle Joe said that as he was growing up, each week his Tūtū would get up early in the morning, dress in a red malo, and fill a large ‘umeke (calabash) with food. Uncle Joe would accompany his grandfather to the beach outside Lāhainā and watch as Tūtū would slap the water, wait until a huge shark swam up to him, and then feed the shark from the ‘umeke! Uncle Joe said that the shark was a part of the ‘ohana and a protector of the family. He said it was huge, but fed peacefully from his grandfather’s hand.

It took me a few weeks to digest the story, but Uncle Joe insisted it was a real part of the family’s legacy. As I thought about the relationship Hawaiians have to their guardian entities, I was reminded that my uncles often spoke of Tūtū wahine’s adventures at the beach picking seaweed and shellfish and how time and time again sharks would appear to hover around her and to steer her away from danger. It was part of our family’s connection to the world and to all the life that surrounded them. I was told that when a family member died, their remains were taken to caves and when all that was left were bones, they were gathered and carried out and committed to the ocean. The assumption was that they became the guardian Manō to protect their relatives. All of this still rolls around in my head from time to time, but it is a comfort when I’m alone swimming in the deep! Just last year my son and my grandson were part of an ‘ohana visit to the graves of our kūpuna in Kalaupapa, the former leper community on Moloka‘i. Both of my boys were swimming off the pier for a few minutes and then climbed back on the pier. When they sat down, they saw that a large shark had been their companion in the ocean! Coincidence? Perhaps.

dlnr shark aumakua — Photo Credit: http://dlnr.hawaii.gov/sharks/

In traditional Hawaiian culture, ‘aumākua are ancestral spirits that may take possession of a living creature or have a resting place on a certain inanimate object (e.g., the stern of a family member’s canoe may be regarded as their ‘aumākua’s “seat”). ‘Aumākua often appear as a particular animal for a particular purpose, such as to offer protection for the living, warn of impending danger, provide comfort in times of stress or sorrow, or to be helpful in other ways. In return, their living descendants show their respect and appreciation by feeding and caring for their ‘aumākua and through the manner in which they live. (For more about sharks as ‘aumākua, see the following articles from the perspectives of Kahu Charles Kauluwehi Maxwell, Sr. and Herb Kawainui Kāne).

The other family curiosity concerns my younger uncle, Alfred K. Chock, the baby of my mother’s siblings. He and my Tūtū wahine were very close and she, a kahuna lā‘au lapa‘au, had an amazing set of gifts for healing and speaking the future. People would come from all over Kohala and the islands in general to get her advice and ask for her healing. Not once would she take money claiming anything she did was thanks to Ke Akua, not her skills. A great attitude for all of us to embrace.

*My Tūtū wahine,* *Julia Maile Ayers Chock*

My uncle came from Hawi on Hawai‘i Island to study at McKinley High School and subsequently to take a job at the U.S. Postal Service. The family story goes that Uncle Alfred’s roommate came down with an illness no one could cure. Suddenly, grandmother writes Uncle Al to ask if anyone had been using his clothes. When he replied that his roommate had used his shirt, she immediately told him to remember that she had warned him not to allow others outside the family to use his clothes because of the curse he was carrying due to her work of healing. She told him what to do and his friend was healed, but the “curse” was never fully explained and remains a family mystery.

painting by Herb Kane — “The Physician” by Herb Kawainui Kāne

For over a thousand years kahuna lā‘au lapa‘au (healers/medical practitioners) were called upon to heal and protect Hawaiians, including chiefs, often battling a spiritual conflict or evil that resulted in illness. With the arrival of English missionaries (and medicine that could cure the Western diseases that ravaged the Hawaiian community), Westerners often confused kahuna lā‘au lapa‘au with kahuna ‘anā ‘anā (a “black magic sorcerer” who prayed death upon another). Kahuna lā‘au lapa‘au were ridiculed and considered heathens, and an eventual ban forced them to practice underground until the Hawaiian revitalization movement in the late 1960s and early 1970s. But by then, many healers were well into their seventies and eighties and their practices were in danger of being forever lost.

All of the above is a small part of the stories shared in the numerous “talk story” sessions we listened to as children and young adults. Some of it is perplexing, but all of it builds the history and “culture” of one’s family and through that, our own personal character and understanding of our responsibilities to each other and to the larger community. We are all part of a complex fabric of relationships and traditions and we all should actively and intentionally seek to understand our connection. We will grow stronger and our family will be blessed. Reflect on who you are and what you have received from those going before you. Blessings this Easter season.

Thriving in the Midst of a Culture of Shame: Part III

On December 23, 2017December 23, 2017 By jandillIn Hawaiian Values, Indigenous Issues, Social Justice, SustainabilityLeave a comment

By the last third of the 20^th century, there were significant strides taken politically and economically to begin a process of change in the culture of shame in Hawai‘i. There was growing recognition of the injustices of the system suffered by the Hawaiian community and a real movement to try to find a sustainable path of transformation in the face of the significant challenges that community continued to face.

The State of Hawai‘i assumed the management of the Hawaiian Homes Commission, a federal agency overseeing the 200,000 acres of lands set aside by the Hawaiian Homes Commission Act of 1920 for Hawaiian agriculture and home ownership.

Designated Hawaiian Homelands across the state_Nelson Minar Data from HI office of planning — *Photo credit: Nelson Minar/Data from Hawaii Office of Planning, hawaiipublicradio.org*

The 1978 Hawai‘i State Constitutional Convention created the Office of Hawaiian Affairs (OHA), a semi-autonomous agency to manage the ceded lands the federal government had received from the government of Hawai‘i for the benefit of the Hawaiian community. The trustees of the organization were to be elected by ethnically Hawaiian voters. In the area of education, health, and social services, the Hawaiian delegation in Washington led by Senator Daniel K. Inouye and Senator Daniel K. Akaka pressed for significant resources for the Hawaiian community. Leaders such as Myron Thompson also helped to funnel tens of millions of dollars into educational, health, and social projects aimed at improving the state of Hawaiians.

Senator Daniel K. Inouye

Senator Daniel K. Akaka

Myron Thompson, PC: The Honolulu Advertiser

Innovations such as Hawaiian language immersion schools emerged to revitalize interest and use of the Hawaiian language. Hula, Hawaiian music, and traditional crafts found growing interest in the community while a renaissance of traditional celestial navigation and long distant voyaging focused on the iconic vessel Hōkūle‘a.

hokulea_circa_1975_PVS — *Hōkūle‘a circa 1976. PC: Polynesian Voyaging Society, Kamehameha School Archives*

All these activities brought Hawaiian issues into day to day discussions and pride to the community. Significant federal funds were used by the Bishop Estate/Kamehameha Schools system (a creation of the last Princess of Hawai‘i, Bernice Pauahi Bishop, using the significant land resources she bequeathed) to develop innovative extension programs to address the significant educational deficit Hawaiian children had in their schooling. Myron Thompson also joined with other Hawaiian leaders to create the Hawaiian Health System, a series of clinics that focused on the needs of struggling Hawaiian families. All of this was brought to a crescendo by the amazing Congressional Apology Resolution U.S. Public Law 103-150 of the 103^rd Congress enacted on November 23, 1993 admitting to the injustice of the seizure of the Kingdom of Hawai‘i on January 17, 1893 and the collusion of the United States government in that illegal act.

apology — Click here to view the full Resolution

It seemed that the culture of shame was on life support. Unfortunately, life has a tendency to be much more complex than we are usually expecting.

Despite all of the above positive changes and investment in social issues, the plight of the poor Hawaiian family remained in place. The waves of alcohol and various drug addictions brought devastation to many. The traditional family structure of the Hawaiian people continued to fragment under the unrelenting pressure to conform to “western values and western perspectives” on life and community. For many families, the roles of kūpuna and the moral authority of the church were slowly abandoned and the commitment to ‘ohana (extended family) became strained. Hawaiian ethnicity was less and less tied to a clear set of Hawaiian cultural and values. Young Hawaiians were increasingly able to go away for higher education, but they were also less liable to return with their skills to build the lāhui, and their skills were often lost to benefit communities on the mainland. A friend and student of the Hawaiian language and people, Dwayne Steele, once noted that “as Hawaiians experienced prosperity, they became less Hawaiian.” They escaped the culture of shame by leaving their culture.

The stats for the past several decades attest to the persistence of dysfunction in Hawaiian communities despite hundreds of millions of dollars of social investment. Not a pretty sight.

poverty — *Data source: US Census Bureau Decennial Census (1980, 1990, 2000, 2010 ACS) and 2011-2016 ACS 1-year estimates*

Data source: State of Hawai‘i Department of Human Services, “A Statistical Report on Child Abuse and Neglect in Hawaii” 2000-2015 reports

teen birth rate — *Data source: Hawai‘i State Department of Health, Hawai‘i Health Data Warehouse http://hhdw.org*

education — *Source: http://www.hawaiihealthmatters.org*

health rev — Data source: Hawai‘i State Department of Health, Hawai‘i Health Survey http://health.hawaii.gov/hhs/ (1998-2012); Hawai‘i State Department of Health, Hawai‘i Health Data Warehouse http://hhdw.org (2013-2015)

substance abuse — Data source: Hawai‘i State Department of Health and UH Center on the Family “Alcohol and Drug Treatment Services: Hawaii, 5-Year Trends (2010-2014)” http://uhfamily.hawaii.edu/publications/brochures/094f2_COF_ADAD_Treatment_5yr_Report_2015.pdf

Source: Prison Policy Initiative, http://www.prisonpolicy.org

These questions emerge, “What have we not recognized in this struggle to defeat the culture of shame? How do we move forward towards true transformation and the creation of a healthy and resilient lāhui as we seek to sever the tap root of this plague on the Hawaiian community?”

I don’t pretend to have anything other than some suggestions for areas we can focus on to bring transformation to the community and weaken the culture of shame in our midst:

…We can define what we believe is our “nation,” our lāhui. This means producing and refining documents that capture the heart of who we are. The ‘Aha convened by the Office of Hawaiian Affairs passed the Native Hawaiian Constitution on February 26, 2016, which provides a foundational document for the Hawaiian nation. It provides a legal step in the building of the community into a nation. The implementation of its provisions remains to be done.

…A corollary to the constitution is the clear articulation of the values that will drive our community and the development of the means to help people understand how these values impact their lives and perspectives on contemporary issues. How does “being a part of the Hawaiian nation” set us apart from our non-Hawaiian colleagues and friends? How do the values of our lāhui change our political, social, economic, and community behaviors?

…Let us inventory the resources Hawaiians have and then select foundational areas for cooperative, calculated, and measured investment in transformational change. Areas that rest on the top of my list are early education programs integrated with family education to prepare our young for success and our families for the successful stewardship of our keiki (children). I can think of no other areas of social investment that would result in such transformational building blocks for our community. Achieved measured outcomes in such an investment in our children and families really put in place a sustainable foundation for lāhui.

…Cultural investment is another area of initial importance to our community and to the eradication of the culture of shame. Language and the understanding of our heritage have provided us with windows to self-esteem and positive identification. Understanding the chemistry of the culture of shame will help us as a people to avoid the stereotypes and attitudes that have kept us crippled by this shame in the past, as we step into the future.

It is obvious that these steps are only part of the road to burying the culture of shame. Each of us individually needs to catalogue what bits and pieces remain in our lives and intentionally work on changing or eliminating them. Our children should be challenged to be servant leaders as they move into adulthood and become clear and positive Hawaiian responses to the challenges of contemporary life. We all need to ask ourselves how we are modeling the Hawaiian culture of success to our families, friends and work colleagues. A worthy thought as we enter a new year!

Blessings and aloha to all for this holiday season and for the New Year!

“Mai maka‘u ‘oukou, e ka ‘ohana ‘u‘uku: no ka mea, ‘o ka makemake o ko ‘oukou Makua e ha‘awi i ke aupuni iā ‘oukou!” Luke 12:32

Thriving in the Midst of a Culture of Shame: Part II

On November 10, 2017 By jandillIn Hawaiian Values, Indigenous Issues, Social JusticeLeave a comment

Despite the power of the culture of shame that started in the late 1800s, it is interesting to note that during the 1930s through the 1960s, Hawaiians were very present in several professional groups. Many Hawaiian teachers in public schools, like my mother, formed the backbone of K-12 public education. The courts and the public bureaucracy also had a very visible Hawaiian presence. Even the legislature and city council had strong Hawaiian individuals at the levers of power. How could that be? On a certain level, I think it was the classic “Stockholm syndrome” in which the hostages develop a psychological/ social/ economic alliance relationship with their captors as a strategy for survival. Our kūpuna wanted their Hawaiian children to prosper in the new and very different western Hawai‘i and they did! A bit dramatic, but the picture of the prisoners becoming the guards jumps to mind. Hawaiians had succeeded in becoming something the culture of shame demanded!

On another level, there was a growing awareness during these years that the host culture was in serious decline. The language was less and less evident in daily life, even in Hawaiian families, and cultural practices were more and more oriented towards creating a platform for the tourist industry in the state. It seemed that the more successful a Hawaiian became in the western culture, the less Hawaiian he/she became in his/her identity with the host culture. Hawaiian perspectives were not welcomed enthusiastically in the schools, corporations, and social gatherings of Hawai‘i. One could be Hawaiian by ethnicity, but not Hawaiian by traditional values and practices. The system worked hard to maintain the distinction.

Part of my memories of my youth in the 1940s and 50s are the headlines of the daily newspapers in Honolulu. One consistent theme that a young person saw was that crime, in general, was committed by “LPMs,” or “Large Polynesian Males.” It formed some of the white noise of life in the islands that reinforced the culture of shame and the need to distance oneself from the host culture. Some would say that you had to view it all in the context of the community at that time and not assign it importance, but for a young Hawaiian growing up and struggling to find his or her identity, it was subtle but powerful input. The socio-economic lines in the community during that time were also strong and enforced. Though Caucasians and Hawaiians could surf, paddle, play sports, and have a convivial time together, interracial dating created a completely different tone. The power of the culture of shame created an understood barrier between relationships beyond certain levels between haoles and Hawaiians. If one didn’t get the hint, the “barrier” often became loudly vocal and sometimes openly physical in nature. There were rules with the culture of shame, and not mixing beyond a certain level was one of them.

big 5 — *The “Big 5” that dominated* *Hawaii business from the late 1800s to the mid-1900s, PC: starbulletin.com*

Throughout the period before World War II, the partnership of the traditional agriculturally-based corporations (founded for the most part by missionary descendants and referred to as the “Big Five”) and the political military hierarchy of the U.S. Navy and Army, functioned to keep the divisions of the culture of shame in place. Perhaps the most dramatic example of this diligent enforcement of shame was the Thalia Massie case in 1932. It served to bring racism in the mainland’s south as a lens to view the status of Hawaiians during this period. Hawaiian Joseph Kahahawai was wrongly accused of the rape of Navy wife Mrs. Thalia Massie, was acquitted, and then murdered by moneyed white upper class east coast relatives of Mrs. Massie. The four individuals who committed the crime (including Mrs. Massie’s mother) were convicted and sentenced to ten years of hard labor, which was magically commuted to a sentence of one hour with Territorial Governor Lawrence M. Judd (a descendent of missionary grandparents). The culture of shame protected its own.

massie case_honolulu advertiser — *The four defendants and their supporters shortly after being sentenced (May 4, 1932)*. From left: Clarence Darrow, chief defense counsel; defendants E.J. Lord and A.O. Jones; Maj. Gordon Ross, high sheriff; Grace Fortescue, mother of Thalia Massie; Thalia and Lt. Thomas Massie; and George Leisure, defense counsel. PC: *Honoluluadvertiser.com*

New York weekly tabloid Brevities, Feb 1, 1932

19990729 CTY Politcal carton of the Massie case. PHOTO COPY BY DENNIS ODA ON JULY 29, 1999.

What one also doesn’t hear about during this period, is the practice the Navy and Army used to intimidate the local population. When fights between locals and service personnel/sailors were deemed too frequent, soldiers from Schofield Barracks were called out to march through the streets as a reminder of who was in charge and the reality of the force protecting the privileged. The Territorial political system dominated by the Republican party and the commercial and military interests of Hawai‘i were clear in their commitment to keeping locals, particularly Hawaiians, in their place. With the U.S. Armed Forces (and particularly the Navy) holding complete sway over everything that took place in Hawai‘i, this period has been characterized as the time that Hawai‘i was “golf course of the U.S. Navy.” If that were true, Hawaiians could only hope to be favored caddies.

Uncle sam cartoon_School_Begins_(Puck_Magazine_1-25-1899) — *Cartoon depiction of the US, its territories, and US controlled regions as a classroom with belligerent Philippines, Hawaii, Puerto Rico, and Cuba*

World War II brought significant changes to the islands and a significant influx of talented people with very western ideas. Local Japanese veterans of the 100^th Battalion and the 442^nd Regimental Combat Team returned and used the GI Bill to pay for college and law school, and soon began to consolidate their control of the Territory’s administration and the Democratic party emerged as a political power in the local scene. Plantation workers, through difficult strikes and constant organizing, became the voice for the thousands of Japanese and Filipino workers in the plantation camps. Caucasians who settled in the state after the war didn’t bring with them the decades old negative view of the Hawaiian community, and so they married Hawaiians and for the most part were flexible in their view of the culture (like my Dad who married my hapa pake Mom). The winds of change were swirling.

442nd regiment — *442^nd Regimental Combat Team, PC: Hawaii Reporter*

The impact of all of this was a significant relaxing of the traditional barriers to Hawaiians and an easing of social practices that allowed the beginnings of the Hawaiian “Renaissance” in the late 40s, 50s, and its blossoming forth in the 1960s. Traditional hula, both ancient and modern, began to flourish and be taught throughout the state. This interest sparked a renewed interest in the Hawaiian language and in traditional cultural practices that were natural pieces of the revival of dance. Hawaiians today owe the flourishing of the culture to the many kumu hula who patiently taught generations to love the dance and the culture and seek to understand the language that had been taken away from them for decades. Anthropologist and linguists like Mary Kawena Pukui and Samuel Elbert collected the words and the “mo‘olelo” (stories) that began the rediscovery of the Hawaiian language and the preservation of the cultural underpinnings of our people. It was the beginning of the return of the host culture to the host people and the beginning of a process of recognizing and addressing the culture of shame.

hulapreservation — *Hula Päipu by Beamer keiki hula students, 1950’s, PC: Hula Preservation Society*

Increased activism in Hawai‘i raised the plight of the Hawaiian to a higher level than ever before. The 1960s, 70s, 80s, and 90s saw the emergence of Hawaiian leaders in a wide spectrum of cultural and political areas, who all worked to erode the harshest elements of the culture of shame and begin a process of healing and recovery of self-worth for the community. Some of these leaders include:

Rev. Abraham Akaka: a strong Hawaiian voice for “pono” in our community. He served as one of the important “Kahu” (guardian) for Hawaiians during this turbulent period.

Myron “Pinky” Thompson: a leader in politics and funding for Hawaiian social issues, founder of Alu Like and a driving force of Hokule‘a and the recovery of Hawaiian celestial navigation

George Helm: the spiritual presence for the Kaho‘olawe ‘Ohana particularly after his disappearance at sea

Harry Kūnihi Mitchell: Co-founder of Protect Kaho’olawe ‘Ohana

Edith Kanaka’ole: a leader in the Hula renaissance

‘Iokepa Maka’ai: Co-founder of Pūnana Leo o Honolulu

Sunday Mānoa: a leader in the Hawaiian music renaissance

Gladys Brandt: a leader in the resurgence of Hawaiians at UH Mānoa

Msgr. Charles A. Kekumano: founder of Kūlana ‘Oiwi in Kalama’ula, Moloka’i (a one-stop-shop for organizations serving Hawaiians), trustee of the Queen Liliuokalani Trust, and active in many community organizations such as the Association of Hawaiian Civic Clubs, University of Hawai‘i Board of Regents, the Honolulu Police Commission, Hawai‘i Commission on Children and Youth.

Voices of leaders like these and many more became conscience keepers for the Hawaiian revival and began the process of understanding what was involved in the resurrection of Ka Lāhui (nation).

Slowly, Hawaiian children found paths to success in the new and more flexible society of Hawai‘i during the last decades of the 20^th century. Many went away to college on the mainland and some returned with ideas that tested the traditional lines of the culture of shame. Many, however, decided to stay away from the islands and seek their future in other cultures they found they could navigate and be successful in. They never returned to engage in a transformation of the host community.

In the 70s and 80s a wide range of issues relating to the Hawaiian reality were addressed. The naval bombardment of Kaho‘olawe became a symbolic image of the exploitation of the host culture. The injustices of the land tenure theft of Hawaiian family lands received attention after decades of denial and judicial opposition. The political power of Senators Daniel K. Inouye and Senator Daniel K. Akaka worked to provide significant federal resources for social issues in Hawaiian communities. And the land condemnation process of Bishop Estate lands led to significant resources flowing into the Estate and the educational programs of the Kamehameha Schools. It seemed that things were finally moving to dismantle the culture of shame and replace it with a culture of success for the Hawaiian people. Unfortunately, the declaration of victory was premature.

In the midst of all the changes and all the “progress” in our community, the needle was not moving positively for the bulk of the host culture and the socio-economic challenges of the Hawaiian communities of the state persisted and then deepened with the challenge of drugs, unemployment, and the subsequent social dysfunctions of the Hawaiian families in crisis. All of it reinforced the culture of shame assumptions that Hawaiians were lazy, they were not that bright, they couldn’t be trusted, and they were a drag on society as a whole. Little did we realize how hard change would be.

To be continued…

Thriving in the Midst of a Culture of Shame: Part I

On October 23, 2017 By jandillIn Hawaiian Values, Indigenous Issues, Social Justice, SustainabilityLeave a comment

I have reflected repeatedly about elements impacting the Hawaiian community throughout my lifetime and during the times of our elders. It is clear that we have struggled to find traction as an ethnic/cultural group in the midst of the tremendous changes beginning in the early 19^th century. Other ethnicities have prospered in the inclusive embrace of the host culture, but Hawaiians to this day continue to suffer from generational poverty and all of the social and physical consequences associated with it. It seems that the Chinese, Japanese, Filipino, even other Pacific Islanders such as the Samoan, Tongan, and other immigrant groups, have moved forward while Hawaiians continue to dominate the lower realms of the socio-economic-educational statistics. What drives this reality? How does true transformation take place if we can’t identify the factors that litter its path for the Hawaiian community?

It is very hard, if not impossible, to simply state the factors that lead to socio-economic structures that endure over time. Cultural/ language/ economic/ social/ religious/ military and global power alignments all play roles in the rolling definition of social structures in a cultural clash of this proportion. Despite this complexity, I will venture into a path of trying to block out what the consequences of this clash were during the past two hundred years of interaction between western and Hawaiian societies.

The introduction of western culture to the traditional Hawaiian nation in the latter eighteenth century resulted in huge economic and political changes that transformed the traditional Hawaiian reality. Western imperial interests in the Pacific drew Hawai‘i into the global political and commercial world. The traditional Hawaiian leadership was quickly overwhelmed by ideas and perspectives antithetical to the values and mores of life under the chiefs, kings, and kāhuna. Economic factors overwhelmed cultural values and Hawaiian families were faced with a perplexing decision: how do we ensure the success of our children in a world on wheels going to places we don’t understand? The use of the spoken Hawaiian language was being eroded even as it became a widely used written language. The traditional family, political, and leadership roles were being put into written documents the common people did not understand. Hawaiian agriculture was being replaced by a commercial plantation model and the traditional bond of the Hawaiian people between the land and their rulers was substituted with western land tenure codes and “representational government.”

From this toxic clash of cultures a number of important responses emerged, changing traditional Hawaiian social, economic, political relationships. The dominant economic interest of the Caucasian businessmen pressed them to mold the political system into one that would protect their investments in Hawai‘i and foster their growing interest in entering the global market through the plantation agricultural model. These goals hinged on changing both the traditional structure of ruler/subject relationships (which was basically a social compact between the chiefs and the governed with clear responsibilities to care for each other), as well as the traditional land tenure model that was predicated on the assumption of a strong personal relationship between the land and its user. In this latter relationship, the farmer assumed a “relationship of kinship” with the land and personal land tenure was superseded by the needs of the larger community, led by the chiefs. In the later part of the 19^th century, both of these traditional models were replaced with a western model that gave economic interests and monetary wealth a large say in public policy and as a result, the Hawaiian community was faced with a foreign constitutional form of government and an increasingly intrusive private land tenure system. Traditionally, the land was essentially a relative to Hawaiians; you cared for it, made it prosper, and did not exploit it. However with the change to a western perspective, the land became just another component and input to the economic health of the community. The Hawaiian community did not function well in a plantation setting, so the importation of workers from China, Japan, and later the Philippines, fueled Hawai‘i’s commercial agriculture boom. With plantations taking over, Hawaiians could no longer produce enough food to sustain themselves and the traditional small farming reality faded but managed barely to survive, just like the language, thanks to isolation and poverty.

pineapple fields lanai 1979_Iraphne R. Childes — Pineapple plantation in Lāna‘i, https://digitalcollections.qut.edu.au/216/

The traditional Hawaiian language was a threat to this startling shift in the Hawaiian reality, so it was essentially banned and removed as the teaching language in the public schools in 1896. This trickled down to Hawaiian families concerned about the future success of their children and soon the language began to disappear in the home setting. A major foundation of identity and strength for the Hawaiian community was replaced and given a negative connotation in the lives of the people of Hawai‘i. Relationships and responsibilities that the language presupposed were radically “westernized” into a system that the bulk of the native population did not understand.

KS 1893 — Kamehameha Schools (KS) was established to help Hawaiian children to succeed. Unfortunately, as an essentially English immersion school that was at the time run by annexationists, KS was one of the first schools to abolish the use of the Hawaiian language. The first class of students selected for KS staged a total walk out when told they were not to use Hawaiian on campus. Photo Credit: Kamehameha Schools, https://apps.ksbe.edu/kaiwakiloumoku/makalii/feature-stories/suppression_of_hawaiian_culture

On top of everything, the population of the Hawaiian community continued its downward spiral from a high of 500,000 or 600,000 at contact to less than 50,000 at the turn of the 20^th century. Diseases introduced from the west ravaged the host population while radical political, economic, land tenure, and cultural changes caused a similar destruction in the culture, stability, and more importantly self-sustainability of the Hawaiian people. All of these combined left a community in search of an identity. The ruling elite of missionary offspring and imported westerners were happy to strengthen the negative portrait of the Hawaiian. Writers like racist Rev. Sereno Bishop (1827-1909), son of a missionary with ties to Lorrin Thurston (a leader in the overthrow of the Hawaiian Kingdom in 1893), wrote “definitive” histories of Hawai‘i depicting the Hawaiian as lazy, slow, and incapable of caring for themselves. As editor of the influential Christian newspaper “The Friend” from 1887-1902, he held an effective platform in pushing for the annexation of Hawai‘i to the US and furthering racial issues against Hawaiians. As they say, to the victor belong the spoils, and this was astoundingly true when it came to the public perception regarding Hawaiians and their place in their own land. The culture of shame was planted and it quickly became reality.

“He ma‘i nui ka hilahila”

Shame is a great disease. Shame and Humiliation can make one sick to the heart.

– ‘Ōlelo No‘eau #783

clara bow hula 1927 — Hollywood film Hula, 1927

Throughout the 20^th century the culture of shame strengthened. The Hawaiian language slowly disappeared from everyday use on the streets and in most homes, Hawaiian cultural practices like healing and Hawaiian martial arts faded into practice outside of the public view, while hula became westernized and a part of the Hollywood picture of Hawai‘i and its tradition. At the school for Hawaiians, the Kamehameha Schools, standing hula was prohibited as being too provocative. Hawaiians had lost a sense of their unique roots and cultural traditions except in those areas where contact with the western economy was limited: rural, isolated communities that had limited contact with the economic/political reality of Hawai‘i between 1890 and 1960 (places like Na‘alehu, Kalapana, Miloli‘i, Moloka‘i in general and particularly the east end, Halawa valley, etc.). These areas were subsistence economies and generally ignored by the ruling elite and therefore were able to preserve the language and some of the traditional cultural practices. In other words, the Hawaiian culture and language were being saved by those deemed in poverty and isolation. When the Hawaiian language revival began in the late fifties, the sixties, and the seventies of the last century, these rural communities were major resources for the movement.

(To be continued…)

Ka Lā Ho‘iho‘i Ea: Is Talk of Lāhui For Real?

On July 31, 2017July 31, 2017 By jandillIn Hawaiian Values, Indigenous Issues, Social JusticeLeave a comment

Today, July 31^st is Lā Ho‘iho‘i Ea (Restoration Day), the 174^th anniversary of the return of sovereignty to King Kamehameha III in 1843 by the British government represented by Admiral Richard Thomas. It was on this day that King Kamehameha III proclaimed to the Hawaiian people on the steps of Kawaiaha’o church what is now Hawai‘i’s motto: “Ua mau ke ea o ka ‘āina i ka pono” or “The sovereignty of the land is preserved through justice.” It is a time Hawaiians should use to reflect on just what is the Hawaiian “nation”? The monarchy is long gone, the trappings of sovereignty no longer have sway, and we are citizens of a powerful nation state, no matter how uncomfortable it might be for some. So what about this talk of Lāhui, nationhood, sovereignty?

As I reflect on the concept I am immediately struck by the loud voices and shaking fists surrounding the issue of sovereignty for Hawaiians. On the whole I have tended to stand to the side of the debate over the years, as I have seen how the core issues have a hard time emerging through emotions, strong language, and personal attacks from advocates on the many sides. There is much to be upset by as you delve into the complicated relationship of the United States and the Kingdom of Hawai‘i. Legal and conceptual arguments about the nature and path to a renewed Hawaiian government can get very vocal and very personal, very quickly. I have watched arguments slide very soon into ad hominem assaults on the characters of the people engaged in the discussions, dividing families, ending friendships, galvanizing our youth, and dismaying many others in the Hawaiian community. After all is said and done, however, there seems to be no clear definition of the Hawaiian nation and no universally accepted path to its final construction. The ‘Aha movement created a first step in the process, but most would agree the future is at best unfocused.

A number of years ago I discovered my great grandmother’s, my grandmother’s, and my grand aunt’s signatures on the anti-annexation petition signed in 1897. Twenty or thirty thousand Hawaiians signed the petition, but to no avail, as the following year the U.S. annexed Hawai‘i in what many consider to be an unconstitutional congressional resolution. I mention the petition because it is an important framework I have used to challenge my five children and my thirteen grandchildren on what to remember as they are called to make important decisions in their lives. Our kūpuna (elders) were not afraid of the consequences of signing the petition, for they believed it to be “pono” (right, correct) for them and their community. Unfortunately, the large economic-military and political powers at that time decided on a reality that absorbed the Hawaiian nation into the United States.

One hundred and twenty years later with the ongoing sovereignty debate, the tradition of the petition in our family continues to represent a commitment to do what is correct and right in the face of opposition and the threat of negative consequences. In the midst of all of the “paths” to sovereignty before us, what is one that is “pono”? My personal preference is for an entity that can control significant resources for the benefit of the Hawaiian community. Whether that be a “nation within a nation” or some other political structure is not a burning issue for me. What is important, is the challenge before the Hawaiian people to build a community/nation. It strikes me that pursuing international groups to declare the Hawaiian people a nation is sort of like putting the cart before the horse. These efforts have raised the issue and kept it public, but they were not combined with efforts that actually addressed the fundamental needs of the Hawaiian nation. You may have something that looks good on the outside, but something that lacks a viable foundation. What we really need to do is define the umbrella that covers our intended Lāhui so we can truly begin the process of creating a nation. What are our fundamental values? What shape does our communal commitment to children, kūpuna, the poor, and the sick look like? How does our culture guide us in the relationships between the rich and powerful and the poor and cast aside? Where is our discipline in speaking the “language” of our Lāhui and refusing to use the language and values of other groups? When you start to look at nationhood from this perspective we begin to realize that we’ve been building a house from the roof down… lots of views and pizzazz, a lot of sparks and noise, but little or no foundation.

We must first be a community and agree on the values that define our community and set it apart. The resources that are available to us should be wisely managed and focused on the following. We need to educate and care for our young and cherish and protect our elders. We need to provide education and opportunities for our people as they enter the economic system. We must reaffirm and enrich our cultural and linguistic heritage that makes the Hawaiian people unique. As a community, we must insist on servant leaders to move us forward. As we work to achieve these goals, our Hawaiian nation or community will become a reality and not be dependent on the opinions and labels of others.

The issue of sovereignty has been a divisive one for our community. We need to step back from the rhetoric and the passion that has marked this discussion and refocus on the hard challenges of caring for our children and families. The community that we seek to build and its values need to be something much, much larger than our individual focal planes. As we develop one mind about these values that will define us, we can then use them as a filter to avoid the distractions of conflicts unrelated to the true task of nation building.

Kaulana Nā Pua (Famous Are The Flowers), is a mele of opposition to the annexation of Hawaiʻi to the United States, written by Ellen Kehoʻohiwaokalani Wright Prendergast in 1893. In 2013 Project KULEANA and Kamehameha Publishing produced a collaboration of the mele you can view here. Lyrics and translation below are from huapala.org.

A sense of place as a place to begin healing

On April 30, 2017May 2, 2017 By jandillIn Hawaiian Values, Wahi PanaLeave a comment

I am blessed to live in Nu‘uanu Valley just outside the center of Honolulu. It was a place where our kings and queens retired during the hot days of summers past to enjoy the cool winds and gentle mists. It remains a convenient and enjoyable place to escape the pace and heat of modern city life.

Thanks to the generosity of the United Church of Christ- Judd Street, our Foundation has enjoyed having its administrative hub in the former manse of the church at the very door of Nu‘uanu. For over a decade we have dealt with the management of a growing statewide organization dedicated to positive transformational change for needy Hawaiian children and their families. Free traveling preschools, preschools in homeless shelters and on the beaches, foster parenting and recruitment, care for adjudicated young men, and more all get support from our small office in Nu‘uanu.

It is interesting to remember that through this valley in May 1795 swept the army of Kamehameha, as he completed defeat of Kalanikūpule’s army and his conquest of O‘ahu as he went on to unite all the islands under his reign (see www.pacificworlds.com/nuuanu/native2cfm). Just a few blocks from the office is the resting place of most of the kings and queens of Hawai‘i at the Royal Mausoleum and further into the valley the former home of our Queen Emma and the remains of the summer home of Kamehameha III. At the end of the valley is the sharp precipice of the Nu‘uanu Pali, the beautiful and stunning “wall” of the cliffs of the Ko‘olau Mountains, and the expanse of the windward side of the island.

Royal Mausoleum

All great stuff, but how does it relate to all of us trudging through the challenge of life in the 21^st century and the trying to make a difference in the lives of the needy in our community? That was a question that crossed my mind a few months ago and I thought that it might be important to revisit the concept of “wahi pana” as it relates to Nu‘uanu, Kalihi, and Kapālama, the neighborhoods we live and work in.

Wahi pana is a concept in Hawaiian culture that celebrates the places around us. Each place has its unique and special history, heroes, songs, traditions, stories, etc. that set it apart from other places and that give those who live there a powerful sense of tradition and identity. In traditional Hawaiian life it was the glue that helped create strong connections between people from a certain place which, in turn, helped to unite them in powerful community. Today there is a strong tendency to socially “homogenize” and “pasteurize” us and in many ways discount the unique “sense of place” our forefathers cherished.

The more I thought about it, the more I felt that “wahi pana” might be a unifying factor to bring the various agencies and communities of faith in the Valley and in Kalihi and Kapālama together. Instead of ignoring our sense of place, we could lift it up to help unite us in our service to the community. Not rocket science, but the response to our initial gathering has been amazingly interesting.

As we scratched the surface of the history of Nu‘uanu, Kalihi, and Kapālama, we were reminded that this was a place that was much more than a battlefield. It was a place of healing heiau, enlightenment, knowledge, and learning (Kapālama), and a place of abundant provision for the people. The extensive ‘auwai system of irrigation provided food for the people, the heiau provided care for the injured and disabled, and learning and enlightenment was symbolized by the abundant lamalama forests of the hills above.

We asked our partners in service to the community to come together to celebrate our special “wahi pana” with song and fellowship. It was a blessing to watch as good hearted and generous people stepped back from service to join with those they didn’t know, around the special sense of place they share! Last Saturday, April 22, 2017, a number of ethnic groups, churches, schools, and interested individuals who are working for social justice in our community came together to share music and fellowship at St. Mark’s Coptic Church. To see and hear Tongan, various Micronesian languages, Hawaiian, English, and Coptic liturgy blended together in song and testimony gave a testimony to the “wahi pana” of this place as a place of enlightenment, knowledge, and care for the needy! As we rejoiced in the music of our cultures, we had a chance to connect with each other around our commitment to our community, and as a result took from those two hours a blessing and a deeper understanding of the joy of serving!

It is so simple yet so amazing, this discovery of rich blessings in our places of service. Let’s work to tune our hearts to the beat of those who have gone before us in servant leadership! How rich is their inheritance for us, if we but only open our eyes and hearts to it! Me ke aloha piha.

PIDF has produced several Wahi Pana videos. Please feel free to view them by clicking on each location below:

Reflections on Days Gone By

On December 21, 2015October 3, 2016 By jandillIn Hawaiian Values, Reflections on Days Gone ByLeave a comment

As I reflected on my post about wahi pana (a sense of place) I realized that a big part of our sense of place are the stories. They provide for the younger generation a glimpse into their past and the personalities, histories, victories and defeats that have made our families into unique and special creations. My son asked me to write some reflections on growing up and I decided to share one with you, just as an example of a simple way to convey to the keiki their family’s sense of place and history. You may want to do the same for your ‘ohana.
I grew up at 904 Lunalilo St., in a large one-story house built up on six foot posts and surrounded by a large and wide wooden porch. The house was built at the top of a slight rise of yard so you had a pretty good view of the surrounding neighborhood and glimpses of the city below. Fifteen to twenty feet away on the Diamond Head side of the house, sat a cottage where Uncle Alfred, Aunty Beatrice and my cousins Alpha, Melvin, and Michael lived. In front of the cottage was a mango tree (the launching pad for my adventures as Superman with a wash towel tied around my neck) and a sprawling expanse of lawn that ended at a rock wall several feet above the sidewalk. On the Ewa side of the cottage facing the main house were the washing sinks where all of the clothes were cleaned on scrubbing boards and then soaked with bluing to make the whites whiter. Aunty Bea was doing laundry at these sinks when the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor began on December 7, 1941.

I remember the house as a ramshackle structure, huge with high ceilings, large drafty rooms, and the wooden porch painted a peeling grey. On the porch you could watch the fat, black bumble bees diligently working to mine the wooden posts that held the roof in place. A luxuriant, deep, and very high stand of shell ginger plants lined the Lunalilo St. side of the house, with two sets of eight or ten stone stairs climbing from the yard up to the porch.

Jan In a Mango Tree — Me in the mango tree

The set of stairs at the middle of the house brought you to what was the formal (and basically seldom used) entrance to the “parlor,” a formal room with old oriental rugs that people used to pass through on their way to another part of the house. The other set of stairs to the right, brought you outside the kitchen and had at its foot a very prolific Hawaiian chili pepper bush. It stands out in my memory because it was to this bush that Uncle Al would go for chilis to rub on our lips to discipline us about the words and/or attitudes my cousins and I indulged in from time to time. It’s amazing that I still love the tang of those little red tormentors!

All of my cousins were older than I. Michael was the youngest of my cousins and was five years older. He was for all intents and purposes, my older brother and my model, and I his shadow. Melvin (“Buddy” as he was called) was several more years my senior and Alpha, the oldest, was ten years my senior and the same age as my sister Barbara (I couldn’t say her name so she became and remains, “Tita”…sister). Since sister Barbara had a very active social life at Punahou, Cousin Alpha was often stuck caring for her bratty younger cousin Jan. Life was and is not fair. To this day, however, I have a special place in my heart for Alpha and Michael. The latter was important as one of my first guides to how life works. He had a newspaper route in and around the Lunalilo St. and Thomas Square area, and used me as slave labor to deliver his papers in exchange for a couple of small waxed juice bottles that were the rage in the latter part of the ‘40’s. Michael introduced me to the wonders of the manipulation of people (in good ways) and could get me to run up the longest driveways with the paper for those little wax bottles and the occasional big treat, a strawberry soda. The strawberry sodas were usually won after a particularly hard day (for me, at least) of delivering newspapers and part of the thrill of getting it was plunging my arm into the water and ice to claim my prize at the small corner store. Strawberry soda was my favorite, but it often found competition with Nesbitt’s orange soda in the bumpy bottle. Strange to think how life’s memories are populated by these details. At the time, however, they were important building blocks of my life.

Adults on the whole had their own lives separate and apart from us kids. We spent our childhood exploring around the block and if we could get away, down at Dole Park a couple of blocks down the street past the old Normal School. The park has a cliff that was a magnet to young children and I’m just amazed that I don’t remember losing friends off its face. In the neighborhood, people were always very vocal about reminding you what you should or should not be doing. At dinner time the neighbors reminded you to go home and eat. Mom and Dad didn’t have to chase you down. The Simaos lived in the house just behind us and when dinner was ready, Mrs. Simao would call in a shrill voice for her two children to return. Like clockwork, “Diana June, Earl William, you come home NOW!” would resonate throughout the neighborhood at dinner time. Looking back on it, things like Mrs. Simao’s trumpeting voice provided structure and stability to our lives.

The times when the lives of children and adults crossed were usually around the large round kitchen table we had in our house. The table was the platform for large bowls of stew, poi, fried fish, and rice that often were the substance of our meals. There were always extra people at the table, some I knew and others strangers to most of us except my mother. She was always finding people with needs and those needs often meant they ended up eating with us and sometimes, living in our house for extended periods. Stew was always a good thing to have in the pot, for you could always add more water and more carrots if the need arose! We would have long conversations about the day’s activities over the meal and then, when the dishes were cleared and cleaned, we would hunch near the radio to hear the latest adventures of The Shadow, The FBI in War and Peace, and the hilarious antics of Jack Benny and his radio colleagues. Radio provided vivid images of the outside and unknown world for us as we were growing up. The Lone Ranger and Tonto became people you could almost reach out and touch as you listened to their adventures in the quiet of the kitchen surrounded by those you loved.

Julia Ayers Chock - Jan’s maternal grandmother — Julia Ayers Chock – My maternal grandmother

Ah Fun Chock - Jan’s maternal grandfather — Ah Fun Chock – My maternal grandfather

On a more mundane level, the kitchen table was also the place you put the metal bowl of water under the kitchen light to attract the termites when they swarmed periodically. I’m sure that the two houses at 904 Lunalilo St. were kept standing by the gracious mercy of the termites and their determination to keep holding each other’s hands.When they swarmed, however, the metal bowl was quickly filled with wiggling bodies and wings. A final memory of the kitchen was the twice weekly delivery of ice for the icebox, the refrigerator of my youth. I used to stare in amazement as the bare backed men would jump down off their truck, throw a burlap bag over their shoulder, pull out gigantic metal tongs and grab fifty pounds of ice, sling it over their shoulder, and then dash up the steps to deposit it in our icebox. Their strength and energy remain vividly in my memory, and as a very young boy, it showed me hard work in its rawest form. A great lesson for life!

So many simple, yet profound lessons I was privileged to learn at the corner of Lunalilo and Ward Streets six or seven decades ago.

All of us have those amazing insights to life that were given to us in very mundane and common settings! We should work on reflecting on them and seeing how they have molded and guided us. Then we need to shoulder the responsibility of passing these portals to the past to our younger generation as they work on discovering who they really are.

Hopefully the stories and the sense of wahi pana will help them through the process. My ‘ohana has periodic “Cousins’ Camps” where all of the young cousins gather and we older ones have a chance to share the past as they forge relationships for the future. We have all felt this has been a blessing. Perhaps you might explore the same for your ‘ohana.

Blessings to all this Christmas season and New Year!

In the midst of traumatic changes to the life of the Hawaiian people in the latter part of the 19^th century, King Kamehameha IV asked missionary Lorenzo Lyons (Makua Laiana…Father Lyons) to adapt an English hymn ‘I Left It All With Jesus’ (written in the 1840’s by James McGranahan) for the Hawaiian churches. ‘Hawai‘i Aloha’ is a call to the Hawaiian people to remember their roots and their relationship with Ke Akua. It is a call to reaffirm who they are in the midst of change. Today this song is often sung at the closing of meetings or gatherings and remains an important part of local culture and a reminder of the importance of wahi pana.

(If the you have trouble viewing the Hawai‘i Aloha video below, click directly on the video or click here to view it on another page)

Getting Lost Begins By Not Knowing Where You’re From

On December 1, 2015October 3, 2016 By jandillIn Hawaiian Values1 Comment

In the frantic pace of the lives we lead, I am often struck by the amazing number of people who seem disconnected from clear values and goals in their lives, consequently falling victim to the constant bombardment of ideas, values, and pseudo-goals that are a part of the electronic jungle in which we have to function. They seem lost. They seem at sea without a clear course or goal. They have been disconnected from (or perhaps never connected to) the cultural/value anchors that bring stability and focus into our lives. It is often most apparent with the younger generations, but is definitely seen frequently in people who are well into their lives and careers.

I have found that there isn’t a lot of attention given today to helping our young children and caregivers learn and apply their family values and histories to their lives. We seem too content to allow outside sources and perspectives fill this void and become the driving forces in our families. I believe we do this to the detriment of our families and our communities. We risk allowing ourselves and our children to become individuals who reflect other world views, other value systems that don’t reflect our heritage.

We risk allowing the next generation to get lost because they were never taught where they came from.

In traditional indigenous cultures, we find a more focused commitment to preparing the next generations by making sure they understand the history, traditions, and values from which they have blossomed. In addition to genealogy and family traditions, many indigenous cultures like the Hawaiian culture, pay close attention to the specific geographical places their families inhabit. They understand the power of an active and vibrant sense of place in the life of its people.

In Hawaiian culture, “wahi pana” is defined as celebrated, noted, and legendary places, or landmarks of special interest and historical significance. Each of these special places have distinguishing landmarks (mountain peaks, streams, wind, rain, etc.) that are given specific names and are connected to the rich history, chants, stories, and songs that are traditionally passed down from one generation to the next. Hawaiian music, for example, is replete with songs that praise places in our islands with the actual place only being revealed by the specific name of the wind or rain that is referred to in the melody. In public gatherings fifty or sixty years ago, it was common for the various songs of the islands or communities to be sung as an invitation for people from those places to stand and be identified with that wahi pana. It kept my grandparents and my uncles aware of the traditions they represented as they faced the challenges of day to day living. Although we still possess many of these names and songs today, we may not know the physical characteristics that led our ancestors to call a wind or rain differently from others. Our understanding of our sense of place is eroding.

I believe a sense of place is an important tradition that has powerful applications in the lives of our children, families, and political leaders. The unique and special cradle of people, traditions, and physical realities of a place shape who we are. It is a strong framework from which we can make decisions consistent with their historical and cultural anchors, to meet the challenges of contemporary life. I have often characterized our very young as being “baskets” waiting for the values, perspectives, and skillsets they need for their lives. Often we allow the larger world to fill these “baskets” with values and perspectives inconsistent with our cultures and our family traditions. We step back from intentionally teaching our children who they represent and where they find their roots. Let us return to a commitment to teach our children and adults the power of wahi pana. We know our children will often take different paths and break new ground in other places. Hopefully, they will not get lost because they now know where they come from…

In our early education programs at Partners in Development Foundation (PIDF), we have made a commitment to produce video statements of wahi pana for thirty locations throughout Hawai‘i. The purpose is to remind our children and adults of the amazing core each place has in their lives and in the history of Hawai‘i. It has been encouraging to see the positive impact a sense of place has on the thousands of children and adults that have seen the wahi pana of their communities. It is something all cultures can embrace as they prepare their children and help their adults in being good and successful caregivers.

I have often thought that our policy makers also need to refresh their understanding of the communities they represent. For example, only a few minutes of study can bring to life the character, rich history, and traditions of places like Ka‘ū and Hilo. What a resource for leaders as they make decisions impacting the populations they serve!

Please enjoy highlights from these first two wahi pana videos by PIDF on Ka‘ū and Hilo

At Low Tide

Category: Hawaiian Values

Reflections on Sharks and Cursed Clothes

A sense of place as a place to begin healing

Reflections on Days Gone By

Getting Lost Begins By Not Knowing Where You’re From