Mauka 2022

It was a sarong she wore for sure but not like the gaudy colored ones you find in some touristy shop off the beaten path.

Instead, red triangles spread sideways across the material, giving off a dynamic appearance when worn correctly. She was more than six feet tall, possibly six feet three or more. She did not slouch but walked with her shoulders back and chest out. She held her head high naturally, not as a way to look down at people. Nothing on her feet seemed out of place, considering how uncomfortable the small lava rocks can be under your feet. Her hair was long, curled, and fell just beneath her waist, a deep black color. Her face was a throwback to what the most potent Hawaiian chiefesses must have looked like. Big piercing eyes, full straight nose, full lips, naturally formed eyebrows. She brimmed with intensity, almost hummed with it. It was disconcerting that she stood there unbothered by the throng of tourists, and power of the smoke, and the pure chill in the air. Some tourists tried unsuccessfully to strike up a conversation, but she either ignored them or suggested that they find something more constructive to do with their time than annoy her. Many were put off by her attitude, while others expressed anger. Finally, she stepped toward those persons and stared a hole through them, causing them to back away. How else should you reply when being stared down by an intensely beautiful Hawaiian woman who is twice your height? As soon as the troublesome group of tourists left, more smoke rose from the crater, and a thick part of it engulfed this Hawaiian woman completely. When it was gone in less than a second, so was she. Her home, her rules. We are the guests, and we don't dictate to our host, or hostess in the case, how she should behave toward us. We who are mortal.

credit: Onion House Hawai'i