100 Ghost Stories Counting Down To Halloween 2024. #3 Hā'awi no ka manawa.

The Ka'iwi 'ohana was tight-knit—very close, almost clannish, if you will.

They were excellent to everyone and very giving. The parents were respected, and the children were well-behaved, but beyond that, there was a wall that could never be breached. The kids played with the youngest boy, Le'a, all the time. George's mom, Rachel, didn't like him playing with Le'a Ka'iwi because she said that his family was one of those high Maka Maka Hawaiian families that looked down on other Hawaiians that they felt were beneath them. She told George that Le'a was probably the same way, but he wasn't. He was very friendly and considerate and always asked everyone's parents if there was anything he could help them with whenever he was over at one of our houses. One day in June of 1983, a bunch of us went to the falls near our house to jump from the top and swim in the pond. Le'a's mother, Apelila, allowed him to join us, but he couldn't swim because he was dressed in his Sunday best, having just come from church. As luck would have it, Le'a's nice dress shoes didn't have a grip on the soles like shoes do now. So, standing near the edge, he slipped and fell into the pond. Everyone gasped, and we helped him escape the water a second after that.

George had some dry clothes already with him, letting Le'a wear them after changing out of his wet clothes. Needless to say, Le'a's mom was furious, and we got to see her swat Le'a on his butt. Le'a's mom had to dry clean his good Sunday clothes, but she was considerate enough to wash and dry George's clothes and return them to his mother. A few days after that, George fell deathly ill, and his mother, Rachel, had no clue as to why. One morning, while removing all the clothes from the dryer, Rachel noticed that one pair of her son's underwear was missing. Walking to his bedroom to find out why, Rachel found George curled up in bed, sweating profusely and shaking to the point where his teeth rattled. Even before touching his forehead, Rachel could feel the heat emanating from his body. Taking George's temper, Rachel gasped when the thermometer read one hundred and four. Right then, George began to have seizures. His mother immediately rushed him to the emergency room. 

After that, the fever would go away for a few days, but when it returned, it did so with more intensity than the last. It got worse each time. Rachel was at her wit's end by the time she sought spiritual help, but it seemed that nothing worked. That is, until a woman at her church gave her a number to call. This information was to a Kahuna who lived on the Big Island in Papa'ikou. Devout to her church, Rachel hesitated to call the number as she was having difficulty rectifying her personal beliefs with having to consult a Kahuna. Still, it was literally do or die at this point.

"Someone has something that belongs to your son," the Kahuna said. "That's how the curse is working."

"What?" Rachel squealed. "Who would do that to a child and why?"

"The keiki is the instrument," the Kahuna continued. "You are the intended target, being made to suffer for something you did."

"I haven't done anything to anyone," Rachel insisted. "I always go to church and have friends there; no one is an enemy. Not in the house of God!"

"And yet, your son is suffering from a curse to make you suffer," the Kahuna concluded. "Did something of your son's come up missing? Something big or small, it could be anything?"

"Let me think," Rachel paused. Her eyes went wide when it came to her, and she dropped the phone on the kitchen counter. Picking the phone up, she said, "I know what it is, but what do I do? How do I counter it?"

"You go to the source, apologize, and hopefully, you'll be able to retrieve the item that belongs to your son," the Kahuna instructed. "Pray before you go; when you apologize, mean it."

~

The doorbell rang at the front door of the Ka'iwi household. When Apelila Ka'iwi pulled back the portal, Rachel Kiamanu stood there holding the hand of her very ill son George. "Please," Rachel pleaded. "Please accept my apology for whatever wrong I may have done to you and your family. My son George is so sick it seems he might die! If I've wronged you, please take it out on me; don't let my son suffer!"

"You don't even know, do you?" Apelila smirked.

"I don't," Rachel was honest. "Really, I don't."

"Le'a, my son, tells me that George told him you don't him around my son because our family thinks we're better than other Hawaiians and that we look down on them. Is that right?" Apelila never veered her eyes away from Rachel and held her gaze with measured intensity.

Rachel's initial reaction was to lie and deny everything, but George's life was at stake. "I did, I did say that."

"You don't even know us, Rachel. You and everyone else at your church never tried to knock on our door and say hello, but we've always been open and friendly to everyone." Apelila began. "Le'a was so heartbroken when George told him that he hadn't come out of his room for a month. So, that day at the falls when Le'a slipped and fell into the pond? That it was it for me, so I did what I had to do," Rachel stepped behind her door, and when she reappeared, she handed George's fruit of the loom underwear to Rachel. His name, written in indelible ink, lay faded on the waistband. "He'll be fine by the end of the day."

Rachel broke down crying, apologizing to Apelila the whole time. Apelila said nothing and watched silently as the two got into their car and drove off. 

The moral of this story? Be careful of what you say, how you say it, and who you say it to. Also, never lend your clothing to anyone unrelated to your immediate household. Especially your underwear.