You hear about it growing up but you never think about it as being real until it happens to you. I had no idea that the home we bought is built on the site of an ancient Hawaiian fishing village. Where my block is located is where most of the beach used to be until it was run over with land fill. It was only after I found a stone mound in my back yard when things began to happen. I found out through my own research that the ancient people of this area erected Ko’a or fishing shrines where they prayed for an abundant catch to feed their families, and to trade and to give back at least one catch in acknowledgment to the gods who provided sustenance. It turns out that these same ancient people also fed the Menehune who frequented the area. They (menehune) were fed a specific variety of fish and banana in deference of respect and also in times when their help was needed to erect great structures.
This explains the myriad of small footprints on my walls and ceiling. It also explains the sounds of little feet running about in our living room and kitchen late at night. Some evenings when my wife and I would head up stairs to our bedroom, we would find everything from our dresser drawers and closet emptied out and piled onto our bed. On other nights our dogs would suddenly stare up at the corner of the ceiling and start to growl. What’s unnerving about that is we could hear a methodical scratching noise coming from that same corner; I remember heading to the kitchen to retrieve the largest knife I could find. I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw a two foot tall Hawaiian man standing in the middle of my kitchen floor. He wasn’t built like a little person, he was perfectly proportioned except that he was the same height as my granddaughter. He was dark skinned and his eyes bordered on stern and menacing, he suddenly jumped on the counter and kicked a wicker basket filled with apples to the floor. He glared at me again before he took a leap from where he stood and landed just in front of the cabinet below the sink. He simply opened the cabinet door and stepped in; was I surprised to open the door and find that he was gone?
No. I wasn’t surprised. I was scared shitless.
I consulted a cultural historian from the area who told me that my house sat on the very spot where the Menehune would assemble in order to retrieve the food offerings that were left for them. They hadn’t come for many years once the ancient fishing village disappeared, but now that the new development had come up, the Menehune were back. Expect this time, the ancient people who fed them were no longer here. Their food source was gone and so they were reeking havoc on our home. The historian then told me about what variety of fish and banana I should leave out during a certain moon phase once a month. I followed his instructions to the letter and took no chances. I can say that at least for my home in Ocean Pointe, it’s been peaceful and uneventful now that I know what to do. I can’t say the same for my neighbors.
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