Today we went to what we have been told over the past few months is the best museum for Hawaiian culture. I was extremely underwhelming, but the day was not lost under the blanket of blandness. Before going to the museum Molly, Amanda and I went to go to the Indonesian consulate in an attempt to figure out whether or not we needed visas beforehand to go into the Indonesian half of Borneo. We got to the giant building scraping the sky and took the gut wrenching ride up the 27 floors in an elevator that seemed to move at a sickeningly fast pace, only to discover the office was not there. After exploring the adjacent building and finally a phonebook, it seems as if it has just evaporated from Honolulu. After this disappointment we had to decide whether to go to the beach or to the museum like we planned, a truly daunting decision. We finally decided on the museum solely for the reason that it was the expert on Polynesian culture. The museum was oddly in the middle of a very sketchy looking part of the suburbs. A grand estate with mansion-like buildings surrounded by small cottages with peeling siding and more than a few abandoned and surely non-revive-able cars. Though the museum’s exhibits themselves were a bit of a let down my ears and eyes were drowned by the haunting sound of an utterly soul filled song performed by a old man with a long white beard and a group of old Hawaiian women in church hats, singing to commemorate the birthday of the princess who helped to set up the museum. Their evocative hymn echoed of the walls in the whole building, and as they came to the crescendo both us observers and performers were standing on the precipice looking of a sea of tears. We also later treated to a hula lesson by the same old man, now garbed in white linen, and as we performed the ceremonies of his ancestors with him leading in song and dance we were all as once, a joyful energy filled the room, and we all left with utter bliss on our faces. That night, after a long walk to Ala Moana
Shopping center and a stock up on supplies, we came home to a party that lasted long into the night. A late night chat is always the most special, and I had my fair share that night. I have met some people this year that I can really feel myself growing closer too everyday and hopefully the ties between us will be strong enough to be stretched over the Atlantic. A 3 am cleaning session and a wake up of 7:30 am was what awaited me as the last guest stumbled out of my room into the slightly warm night air.Tuesday, January 26th, 2010
Our purpose for staying at the University is undoubtedly so we can attend the lectures that Ulla arranges for us. Today was our first. As we all sat in the little cramped room Ulla unloaded, only a portion, Hawaiian history on us and we were buried under both the injustice and majesty of this mighty island nation. However much Mats has taught us it seems that we have learned nothing and we are being showed up by the Lund group. They are answering all the questions and we know none of the answers, an unsettling situation for me. I feel like we are on the outside looking in and not actually part of the class. After a securely Scandinavian coffee break, we returned to our glimpse through the eyes of Hawaii and watched a documentary called Ahu’puaha, Lo’i, and Fishponds. The definition of traditional Hawaii. An ahu’puaha is the slice of land a Hawaiian community traditionally used from mountains to the sea. From the makua to the makai. At some deep level I feel like I have once lived in a similar way, right off the land. A deep respect for nature and the rules she has written seems to have wound itself around my DNA like a strangler fig. As we watched the film of people who want to restore this way of life, and in one foul swoop save Hawaiian culture, food independence and sovereignty, I wished that people in the “developed” world got past their petty arguments and would see that living like this is the way to go. Not to say we should all go live out in the woods with no running water or electricity, like I hope we will in the jungle, but just to see the value of simple and not grandiose. When we left the wall was covered with a splattering of a Hawaiian words that introduced us to the language. The night was finally met with the Borneo meeting I have been asking for and my stress has been suppressed, for now. But as surely as Wakea is Sky Father and Papa is Earth Mother, it wont be gone for good. Another party tonight, not what I planned, not what I was hoping to happen in my room this evening, but its free beer.
Wednesday, January 27th, 2010
Today was the first day of our Service Learning. We didn’t have to be down at the school until 2:15, so Molly and I decided to take advantage of the free morning and spend a few hours at the beach. Living at the University it takes about 30 minutes to get to the beach, so we really had to plan well in order to have time to bake in the sun and make it back in time. Laying out in the sun, reading and jumping in the water is certainly a relaxing way to start your day. I left the beach with my soul and mind energized, and my body tired. So is the power of the sun, it giveth and taketh away. We stopped into the mall for lunch before catching the bus. While waiting for a bus a homeless man was talking about all the people walking around who can’t see what they are ding or where they are going. Philosophical insight or the ranting of a mental person? I don’t know, but there certainly are plenty of people out there who see but are blind to what they do. It is those people that have stolen Hawaii. By 2:15 we were at the school. A poor school, in a poor neighborhood, with poor students. Luck is not on its side, yet even though a large percentage of students are non-native English speakers, some even arriving just off the boat from the latest migration from Micronesia, they still have to reach the test score requirements No-Child Left Behind requests. A government that runs education as a bureaucracy is leaving them behind, regardless of what the lawmakers say. A school running on fear of getting overtaken and re-staffed isn’t the best environment. I volunteered in a 4th grade class, tutoring in the students in math. Regardless of all the impasses these children are up against the children still managed to be smiling and happy in only the way a child can. Sometimes I wish I still had their naiveté. The teacher was a thin women with a mouth like an anus, so tightly clamped and puckered I guarantee if you stuck a piece of coal in there, the next day it would be a diamond. She didn’t seem very happy to be there, so I did my best to keep up my positive energy, hoping to offset her emissions. I worked with a little boy named Theo who hardly said a word, but as I left he was smiling and waving. That’s the only reward you need. Afterword’s, Molly, Frost and I headed over to the Learning Center to get some more hours in. There was absolutely nothing to do there. The first 20 minutes we just sat there twiddling our thumbs and humming, literally. Until, a little boy and girl came over and asked me to sing what I was humming. “I’m Walking on Sunshine,” is apparently not their favorite song, and aside from a few lines of a Christmas song I learned in 4th grade, I don’t know any Hawaiian songs. We talked about Sweden a little bit and showed them pictures of snow, which got them very excited. They started call over all their friends to look at the crazy pictures. We played a little bingo with them, and then took the 50-minute walk home as a light breeze came into the valley.
Thursday, January 28th, 2010
Not much happened today. I spent the first half of the day relaxing, reading a book, and catching up on my journal. I then headed to Palolo to volunteer. I was in the same classroom, but Anus-Face was gone. I went around the room helping the kids with their math homework; thank god they are only in 4th grade. There were a few minutes there where I was stumped by mean, median and mode. Don’t tell Mr. Weinstein. While walking to the Learning Center, Molly and I had a nice talk. It feels really good to vent to someone every once in awhile, and I am glad she feels like she can talk to me. She had been at the school all day so only Frost accompanied me to the Learning Center. There was only one child there because the Internet was down, but we stayed and helped her with her math. A little Micronesian girl, about 7 years old, and almost no English. I cant imagine how hard school is for her. She asked Amanda and I if we were boys or girls, because she has no real reference for Caucasians. I had to teach he how to add and subtract on her fingers, which I have obviously taken for granted. I didn’t realize the situation was so difficult for so many kids here. Its hard to imagine her scoring the minimum score on the State testing, but she has to or the school risks having to disband. I am really excited about tomorrow, we are going snorkeling.
Friday, January 29th, 2010
Today was a big letdown. We went snorkeling at Haunama Bay, a nature reserve and marine park on the Southeast part of the island. From the way Mats talked about it, I was really excited to see some really nice coral reefs. It took about an hour to get there, and as soon as we arrived I was getting the feeling it wasn’t going to be so nice. You had to pay $7.50, which made me feel it was going to be overrun with human contact, and that there wasn’t going to be much left to see. I guess they look for people who don’t know any better. After paying our entrance fee we had t watch a do’s and don’ts video. A cheesy, over dramatic movie explaining that the coral isn’t supposed to be touched. It’s sad they have to explain that. Even in the video the water looked cloudy and grey. Guess what it looked like in real life? I shelled out another $3 to rent a mask for the day, to get the best out of the murky water that I could. No color whatsoever and not a whole lot of fish either. One more example of Hawaii’s exploitation. The longer I stay here and the more I learn about the history, the more I fee guilty about even being here. Cultural genocide. A beautiful religion and culture wiped out in a century, and replaced with an over simplified touristy version, turning hula from a prayer to a movement, the land from abundant agriculture to concrete cellblock, and bountiful ocean to silent desert. Paradise lost, to some, and paradise found to others, if they had the money. Ripped from the hands of those who took care of it and given to those with the resources to harvest it bare. My perhaps stalwart attempts to show my fleeting ideals of saving the environment, which added up to not wearing sunscreen as it would kill and degrade the coral. Was in the end useless. The coral was dead or dying, and al I was left with was a burnt back and pride.Saturday, January 30th, 2010
Today was supposed to be spent listening to a lecture at a Hawaiian sovereignty and land reclamation organization, however, we all woke up to pouring rain. Instinctively I thought it was cancelled. Ironically that was for the best, because I awoke with a migraine. We trudged our way to the bust stop in the rain to be told that yes, it was cancelled. Either it as the universe making it so I had to nurse my migraine, or I was given a migraine because I needed time to rest. So, my day was spent sleeping. Not the worst day for a migraine.
Sunday, January 31st, 2010
Today, Mats and a group of us took the 2-½ hour bus ride up to the infamous coast of Oahu’s North Shore. In my mind the waves were like mountains and the surfers rode them with ease, twisting and turning in the white spray as they wove along the waves twisted spine. Of course, the day we go there its calm and no waves bigger than an average day in Malibu. However, the day was beautiful so we set ourselves down on the beach, as any group of self-respecting Swedes would do. We were just outside of a cozy little town called Hale Iwa, filled with small little shops with old style store
fronts, it reminded me a lot of Booth Bay Harbor or Kennebunkport, except for the fact that half of the town was bordering a pineapple farm. A few of us went with Mats to go eat lunch at an overpriced family eatery called Pizza Bob’s. The food was good, a bit greasy and overcooked. Definitely back in the US. The rest of the day was spent relaxing on the beach, and attempting to swim in the strong current and boulder-strewn water. We spotted a couple sea turtles eating the algae from the rocks by the bathroom and watched them for a while. My memories of going to the Big Island are filled with images of swimming with these giants, and hopefully I will get the chance again. Being around people, the same people, 24/7 can cause some abrasiveness, especially when the know how to call your bluffs, but sometimes people can be so aggravating.
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