Pololū valley. The sight of it hits you like a spiritual punch in the face, except it's in the heart. Pololū hits you all at once with everything it has. The entirety of it comes right at you: history, people living, and otherwise. That's the draw for those whose hearts and minds are wide open. By the way, I'm Terrence Kaina. With a name like Terrence, you already know I graduated from a public school. My parents scraped up enough money to send me to a community college for a two-year AA degree in Hawaiian studies. The remaining years at UH Manoa were on my own dime, which meant a lifetime of paying back a student loan unless I died. Which meant my issue would inherit my debt. Gotta love the system.
I'm on a huaka'i on Hawai'i island for a personal study project over the summer, which is solely for extra credit toward my degree. I'm visiting all the historical locations where Kamehameha the Great moved about, made decisions, laughed, loved, and, yes, killed people and sacrificed them to his gods. The study was about his formidable years before his ascension to become the absolute ruler of the pae'āina. In visiting these places, I had to keep reminding myself that there were only two modes of transportation during the great chief's time: foot and canoe. I look at the vast plains and miles and miles of open lava fields and pili grass for as far as the eye can discern, and I have to shake my head. Walking around the Ala Moana shopping center, my feet get worn in less than an hour. Our ancient ancestors did it all the time. Then, paddle a canoe for basic transportation to get to and from wherever you're going while, at the same time, living under the restrictions of certain kapu, which you, as the everyday commoner, had to remember because it meant your life and death.
That is why Pololū Valley caught me by surprise. I wasn't looking at it initially because of how hot it was. More concerned about getting a gulp of cold water down my gullet, I threw back the flask like a shot glass and let the liquid wash down. Then, I saw it—the entirety of it. In quiet awe, my body relaxed, and my hands fell to my sides. Good thing my flask was strapped to my hand; otherwise, I would have dropped it, and it wouldn't have mattered.
"I wanna build a home here and live out the rest of my days," I thought. "I'll die here in the end, and I'll be a part of this earth, this lepo where I can see Pololū."
My i-Watch buzzed on my wrist. It was time to visit a man by the last name of Desha (Deshay), who is one of the direct descendants of Kamehameha The Great. I've got an hour to meet him at Pu'ukoholā heiau. I turned directly to leave, and I practically mowed someone down who was coming up behind me. We both screamed in surprise and shock. Whoever she was, she recovered faster than I did.
"What the fuck, man," she tsked. "Fucking shit, are you trying to kill me or something?"
"What are you doing walking right up behind me?" I retorted.
"I was going to ask you if you wouldn't mind moving so I could take a picture of the valley, but you turned around and fucking tackled me!" She was surprised, pissed, and a little bit hurt, but mostly pissed.
"I'm sorry," I dusted myself off. "I guess it's my fault,"
"Damned fucking straight, it's your fault," her tone wasn't as acerbic as it was a second ago. I feebly attempted to help her to her feet, which she accepted.
"I'll get out of your way; sorry again," I left, but she stopped me.
"If you care at all, my name is Kaluhea," she extended her hand.
"My name isn't as fragrant as yours," I replied, taking her hand in mine. "It's Terrence."
She broke down laughing, looking at me in disbelief. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh, but considering what happened and the timing, that's really funny!"
I didn't get it, but I also had to get somewhere and quick. "Well, I'll leave you to it. Have a good day, and be safe!"
I was halfway to my rental when Kaluhea came running up behind me. "Hey, you dropped your flask,"
"Oh," I patted myself and realized she was right. I could have sworn it was strapped to my hand when I drank from it. "Thanks, I didn't realize I'd lost it,"
"Ok, well, I'm on my way to Pu'ukoholā," she said while walking to her jeep. "I have an interview with someone from the Desha family."
"So do I," I said. "About Kamehameha,"
"Me too!" She squealed. "Who knew?"
Really, who knew? To make a long story short, we both interviewed the same person, who was nice enough and patient enough to answer all of our questions, no matter how big or small. After that, we headed to Kona, where I insisted on treating her to dinner since I was the one who knocked her down. To be fair, she insisted on buying the drinks since she was the one who walked up behind me, not knowing that I'd turned around and plow her over. In the conversation, I found out that she was there for a similar reason: extra credit for her Hawaiian studies class regarding the life of Kamehameha in the Kohala, Waipio, and Pololū areas.
"I could buy a house and retire there and live out the rest of my days," we both said at the same time.
At that moment, I realized that the mana of Pololū Valley must have brought Kaluhea and me together—not in the romantic sense where harps played and birds sang, but in one big literal collision, almost like a wake-up call.
Mahalo Pololū, for planting the seed.
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