The time of my life was spent in Orlando, Florida, where I had a great job and an incredible nightlife.
The weekends were just an extra bonus. Going to the clubs, drinking, meeting people, hooking up, and dancing and drinking. The morning I had one of the worst hangovers from drinking shot glasses of tequila without really checking the label, my phone rang. Rather than answer it, I threw it across the living room. It didn't break because it rang again less than a minute later. This time, I picked up."Hello, son," it was my mom. "Did you drop your phone earlier or something?"
"Uh, yeah, I picked it up when it rang, and it kind of fumbled in my hands," I lied. "How are you, mom? What's happening?"
"I just had a question for you," she said.
"What kinda question?" I had to brace myself by putting my hand on the wall. I was still a bit dizzy from the mysterious tequila.
"Would you be willing to come home?" She asked. "Some things are happening, and I need to discuss it with you and your brothers and sisters."
"What kinda things, mom?" It hit me suddenly, and I hoped I was wrong. "Are you sick or something? Is that what it is?"
"No, no, it's nothing like that," she reassured me. "Just please, I need you here. I'll explain the rest when you get home, okay?"
"Yeah, okay. I'll book the next flight home," I said.
"Okay, see you in a couple of days. " With that, my mom hung up, and as bad as my head was pounding, I booked a flight to Honolulu.
~
A few days before calling me, my mother dreamed she was in her bedroom going through her daily routine. Walking into the kitchen afterward, she saw that the small space was filled with older Hawaiian people she'd never met before but knew were family. Each person, whether ancient or modern, stepped forward, introduced themselves, bowed, and stepped back in line. Then, from the back of the group came her youngest brother, my uncle Keahi, who had passed ten years previous.
"Pretty soon, it's your time to join us," he told her. "Whatever unfinished business you have, take care of it now, don't wait."
"Kaleo," my mother replied. "How can you say that to me? I'm perfectly healthy."
"You have cancer," my uncle replied. "Even now, as we speak in this dream among our ancestors, the cancer is ravaging your body. Your time is short; manage your affairs now. Don't pass with regrets, sister, because it will be too late by then."
The next thing my mother knew, she was sitting in her bed, wide awake. The profusion of puakenikeni filled the entire house, and my mother cried for the rest of the morning. Five days later, she'd finally figured out what to do with the time she had left. None of us siblings knew anything about her dream; I was the last one she called to come home. We would only learn something once she had us gathered in her kitchen.
~
One thing I wasn't going to miss about Florida was the one thing I never got used to, the humidity. It just made you sticky all day long. Yandra drove me to the airport, and on the way, she kept going over the list of things I should have packed, like all the essentials.
"Toothbrush, toothpaste, underwear., underarm deodorant, socks," she droned on. "Socks, do they wear socks in Hawai'i?"
"Yes," I replied.
"They do? Like how?" She was surprised.
"The same way we wear socks here in Orlando and Miami," I told her. "We're the fiftieth state; we're an actual state, just like anywhere else,"
"I'm sorry," she squealed. "I don't know anything about Hawai'i except for what little you tell me, so I just have to guess the rest. Like grass huts and coconut bras and shit,"
"I can't believe you said that," I laughed. When she dropped me off and I unloaded my carry-on, we kissed and hugged as much as possible.
"Call me, text me, message me—all of the above, okay?" She gave me that look to show me she loved me but was serious.
"A, B, and C, I promise," I kissed her again.
"If I don't hear from you after three days, I'm flying to Hawaii. Do you understand me?" She squeezed me closer.
"I understand," I kissed her again.
"Getchur ass on that plane then," she kissed me back.
"Why don't you just come with me right now?" I suggested. She reached into the trunk and moved a blanket aside, and surprise, there was another carry-on.
"I booked the seat right next to yours!" She squealed. "You passed the test! I can future marry you now!"
~
My mom bolted upright after having the same dream, the one she'd been having every night since it first began. Each time, one more family member stood in the kitchen that wasn't there the last time. It was a sign that time was seriously of the essence. Sitting in her bedroom, she could only hope that we got there quicker before it was too late.
~
The dawn of the early morning let its rays of still-rising light bathe the living room and the kitchen. I always liked it this way. This was a quiet hour before everyone began to stir in their beds, my brothers and sisters with their kidneys filled, knowing they had to come out of the excellent dream they were caught up in to relieve themselves and get on with their day. My mom sat in the far left corner of the living room on her rattan rocking chair, wearing her old bowling team shirt and quilt blanket on her lap. Physically, she was staring off somewhere, but mentally, her thoughts were filled with what she had to say to us once we were all awake and sitting at the table for breakfast. I walked over and sat at her feet on the freezing concrete floor.
"Penny, for your thoughts," I said.
"Good morning," she smiled. "Your wahine must be fast asleep; won't she miss you if she finds you're gone?"
"She's fine," I assured her. "How are you?"
"I'm okay," she said. "Can you please do me a favor, wash up, and start breakfast? I'll go wake everyone up in the meantime."
While mom made her rounds, I went into the bathroom and did the routine: I washed my face, brushed my teeth, washed my hands, used the bathroom, and rewashed my hands. I woke Yandra up with warm kisses and pressed our bodies against one another. We made love quickly and promised to make it last when we were ready for bed at the end of the day. When I got to the kitchen, Mom had already fried the bacon and mixed the eggs simultaneously. I stepped in and took over for her, to which she smacked my shoulder with her koa wooden spoon and scolded me. "Go wash your face; I can smell your girlfriend all over you!"
Embarrassed, I did what she commanded, and when I returned, she finally let me take over. By the time Terry and Thomas were awake, they were hungry and sitting at the table with growling tummies. My two sisters, Jana and Jen, were frying the French toast and the sausages. Yandra filled the Guava and Orange juice pitchers and set out the last plates and cutlery.
"Hello, strange person that we don't know who was not introduced to us," Terry said. He got up, shook Yandra's hand, and hugged her. "I'm the oldest and most responsible brother," he said. I'm Terrence, and this brooding Edwardian mess is the second oldest brother, Thomas!"
Tommy stood up long enough to say hello, hugged, and kissed Yandra. "On French toast over there is the oldest sister, Janalyn, and on sausages is the youngest girl, Jenharad. It's a long story."
"We met already while going to and from the bathroom," Jana said.
"We like her," Jen agreed. "She just jumped in and started helping, didn't even have to be asked."
"Of course," Terry continued, ignoring his sisters as always. "You already have carnal knowledge of our youngest brother Timotee, or Tim as we disproportionately call him, because he tends to forget common courtesies like introducing his girlfriend to his family."
"Oh, stop being such a prude, Terry," Mom scolded him. "You were the very one who couldn't stop playing with yourself all through your teen years." Oh shit! My mom outed our oldest brother as the chronic masturbator in the family! We nearly pissed our pants laughing while Terry looked at all of us with disdain.
"Hah, hah, very funny, but don't forget who had to cover for most of you when you came home drunk, Jana, and you snuck a boy into your room, Jen! That was me who took the beating for the both of you!" He reminded the two girls.
"No one's forgotten that, Terry," Jana groaned. "Because you bring it up every chance you get whenever we're together!"
"Everyone, please, if it's not too much trouble, let's take our places for breakfast," Mom stretched her hands out as she always did. This indicated that we had to pray once we were seated. With her head bowed and her eyes closed, Mom took a deep breath, and when she exhaled, she said, "Terrence."
In protest, my brother said, "Mom,"
"This is not a request, Terrence. " Still, with her head bowed and eyes closed, Mom wielded power.
"Kū and Hina are our family's ancestors," my brother began. "Please give us your love and compassion and protect us as we partake of this meal and offer you the essence of it. Aloha,"
With that, everyone set forth to eat their breakfast, especially Yandra. Mom liked that she wasn't shy about eating. "You marry this girl," Mom nudged me. Once breakfast was over and everything was washed and put away, we gathered in the living room and waited for Mom to join us. She took her place in her rattan rocking chair and got to it immediately. "I want to pass on and teach you, children, everything I learned from my mama and grandmother. I'd like to start as soon as Monday."
"My school schedule is full, Mom," Thomas spoke honestly. "I'm carrying a full load this semester."
We've got work, the kids, and our ungrateful husbands," Jana spoke for herself and Jen.
"I'm Mormon," Terry said. "You know I can't; I mean, it was enough that I had to do the prayer earlier,"
After that, my older siblings came up with excuses for why they had to leave suddenly: work, family, car repairs—anything to get themselves out of there and away from any spiritual obligations they felt Mom was trying to impose on them. That left me, Mom, and Yandra.
"I've got time, Ma," I told her. "I can start Monday."
~
Although Yandra was not a family member, she made herself worthwhile to Mom in every way she could without being too much in her hair. I know Mom appreciated that a lot. To get to know Yandra beyond that, she was my girlfriend, Jana, and Jen came over and hung out with her or took her to eat and shop. Those three were thick as thieves in a very short time, which was a significant relief for me because, typically, my sisters were very standoffish when it came to any girlfriends my brothers or I brought home. More so, myself since I'm the youngest. Yandra had to fly back to Miami by Monday, but only after telling me she was surprised to see a Wells Fargo in Honolulu.
"It feels like after you're done learning what you need from your mom, you may not return. But I think I could move here and be with you since there's a branch of my office here in town," she said. "What do you think?"
In less than a month, Yandra was back, and we found a nice, for now-ish, place in town near the university. The drive to mom's house was less than ten or fifteen minutes, depending on the traffic. The first night I sat with mom, Yandra sat off in the kitchen or mom's room, where she would offer Yandra her laptop or watch TV. If not, Yandra would drift over to the kitchen table and do some reading. It was 8 pm when I sat on the floor and made myself comfortable. I had a thick notepad and a pen, and I was ready. Mom and I prayed together in Hawaiian before we began, and when she opened her eyes, she asked me,
"What is that?"
"What?" I didn't know what she'd meant, and usually here in Hawai'i, you don't reply to a question from your parents with, 'What?' That's cause for an automatic ass-whupping.
"Those things in your hands," she confirmed. "What is that?"
"Oh," I chuckled. "Pen and a notepad; I'm gonna take notes."
"No," she smirked. "No pen, no paper. I talk, you listen, and you will repeat everything back to me each night after we are done."
She wasn't kidding. No matter how long or short the lesson was, I had to repeat everything to my mom. So that was the course of learning for three years, every night, with no breaks and no holidays. "Why don't we take notes?"
"Some things, we write down for posterity, like our moʻokūʻauhau, our genealogy. For those things, we write down family stories, such as how a parcel of land came into our family, how our land was stolen, or where our ancestors are buried. For those things, notations are important. However, notations cannot be made about what you and I are doing because if your notes fall into the wrong hands, they can be used for mercenary purposes. They can be exploited, and some non-Hawaiian person will take credit for what belongs to us, so, no notes," she said. "You keep what I tell you in your mind and heart; that is something no one can steal from you because only you can teach when the time is right."
That was my first official lesson of the night. There was more as the night went on, but man, what a way to start.
~
Yandra's support meant a lot to me. On those nights when she couldn't be with me at Mom's place, she finished up late at work and then brought dinner for the three of us, after which she would head home. Some nights, the lessons were short; others, the time would pass quickly before we realized six hours had passed. Yet, all that time, Yandra was there, supporting in whichever way she could without complaining. Mom always made a point to remind me how thankful I should be to Yandra. If she was asleep when I got home, I'd ensure she got coffee first thing in the morning. If she was still awake, she got a foot or shoulder massage. On her days off, she'd stay at mom's with me, just hanging out until we were done. Even though she was within hearing distance, Mom was okay with Yandra hanging out in the kitchen or living room while we worked. Between the lessons, when mom or I or both of us needed a break, she would say something like, "You should marry that girl," or "If you screw up and lose Yandra, you'll never find anyone like her again. Girls like her are hard to find, you know why? Good parents, that's why."
While Mom was teaching me about spirits, she suddenly stopped the lesson and looked over at Yandra, sitting in the living room. "Yandra, do you have that Zoom or Skype thing on your laptop?"
"Yes, I do, mama," she replied. "You need to talk to someone?"
"Yes," Mom replied. I'd like to talk to your parents if that's okay."
"It's one in the morning here, so it should be about seven in Miami," Yandra said. "Those two are early risers, so they should be awake."
"What do your folks think about my son here?" My mom asked.
"Oh, they spoil him to death," Yandra laughed. "Every time he comes over, they treat him like a king; you just wouldn't believe it, mama; it's like I'm not even in the room!"
"My son doesn't take advantage of that, does he?" My mom looked at me the whole time, ready to pinch me with her fingernails if Yandra said yes.
"You would have to see it for yourself; it's like a mutual admiration society," she laughed." So they shower him with affection and food, and he's politely refusing. Yet, he'll sneak over on the weekends, mow the lawn for them, or rake the yard. It's so funny to watch. But wait, you'll see once they get online!"
"You weren't taking advantage, were you, Timoti?" Her one eye brown raised in my direction; mom meant business.
"No, mom, of course not," I assured her. "What's this about all of a sudden?"
"I just realized that I haven't met Yandra's mākua, and now seemed like a better time than any," she said.
"Is that it for the lesson today, then?" I asked.
"Even after you leave here, the lessons never stop," she gave me a serious look. "We'll take a break; I want to meet your future in-laws. I'm assuming your folks are in favor of the both of you getting married?" Mom spoke to Yandra as she walked over to where she was seated in the living room.
"It's all they ever talk about," she sighed. "You would think Timoti was their son, and I was the girlfriend from some other Cuban family,"
Yandra had Mom sit in front of her laptop while she got a hold of her folks on Zoom. Once Yandra's folks popped on, she introduced them to Mom, and the lovefest began. The three of them talked for a long time. Yandra and I were busy in the kitchen, making breakfast for us. Camilo and Adoncia Marin were beautiful humans who moved through life with passion and love. How could you not love them? They claimed their love for me was because they could see how much I cared for Yandra and loved her. She smiled and laughed more than she used to because, up until then, her days were dark, and her heart seemed to be unmendable after being broken to pieces. Her previous boyfriend, Alejandro, was abusive to her in many ways, but there was nothing her parents could do because she wouldn't let them. One evening, I happened by the house. I parked on the street, and as I walked up the driveway, I saw Yandra's parents struggling with who could only be the infamous Alejandro. Camilo and Adoncia were between Yandra and Alejandro, trying to get him to leave; otherwise, they would have to call the police. He was cavalier, dared them to do it, and spat in their face. Something in me snapped right at that moment. I would never do that to my mom or grandparents; that was unheard of. I kept my pace, calmly walked up to them, yanked Alejandro away from Yandra's parents, scooped him up over my head, and slammed him to the ground. I did it a second time to make my point. Alejandro struggled to catch his breath; his eyes were wide and glassy, and he was in a lot of pain, but he wasn't crippled. Yandra and her parents were stunned; they had no idea what to say or do. I gave Alejandro time to get his bearings and let him get to his feet. Before he could say anything or make any threats, I kicked him in the head and knocked him on his ass for good measure. He finally got up and hobbled off without a word.
"I'm sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Marin, you were trying to save Yandra from her abusive boyfriend, and then I showed up and acted with more violence," I said. "I'm not violent, but when I saw him spit on you, I couldn't take it. I've never raised my voice to my mother or answered back to her; that's not how I was raised. This really isn't who I am, babes," I looked at Yandra, hoping she would understand. "I am sorry, I won't bother you guys again."
I remember turning to leave and walking down the driveway to the street. I remember the three of them coming after me, surrounding me with a big hug, and crying. We haven't been able to get rid of one another ever since. It warmed my heart to see that they loved Mom as much as they loved me, like they'd always known one another. I was unaware that Mom had talked with Yandra after she'd just moved here to Hawai'i permanently. She told Yandra that after her annual check-up with her physician, she was diagnosed with a rare form of cervical cancer. With chemotherapy, they could help extend her life; without it, she would have three years to live at best. After seeing what chemotherapy did to her friends who did have cancer, she opted for the three years. That's when she realized that she needed to pass on the knowledge of her grandparents to her children. The why of it wasn't necessary; what mattered was that they absorbed the lessons she imparted. Mom wasn't expecting half the room to walk out when she announced her reason for our meeting. She also never expected that I would be the one to want even an inkling of learning anything Hawaiian. Yet, here I was with no clue as to why she was teaching me. In hindsight, it was better that I never knew; that way, there wouldn't be any distractions. Yandra was more valuable than I realized.
~
Tonight, Mom is talking to me about spirits. She says that spirits, as we know them, are wisps of smoke or half-torso apparitions because that's how the whole human race sees them.
"Spirits in Hawai'i are very different," she said. "When they appear, they look like you and me, so it's hard to tell who the spirit is and even harder to tell what the spirit wants."
"Really?" I was slightly amused by this thought process. "Like you and me?"
"In every way, they are exactly human like us, except for one thing," she smiled, but it wasn't a smile of amusement or fun. It's that kolohe smile she always wore right before she dropped a revelation on you, and you'd be gobsmacked. "No hā, and no weight in their body to tear the leaf of the ʻape (ʻah-peh) plant should they step on it. No, hulili, no vibration to cause the ripple on the water's surface in a bowl if they breathe into it. Not even on a mirror or any reflective surface,"
"It sounds like we should fear them," I said. "Should we?"
"Some are spirits who miss the living world and just want to be among people; they are harmless. Others are the ones sent as curses to hurt the living. Those are the ones we have to watch out for because, as I said earlier, you cannot tell who they are because they look like us," my mom eyed me carefully to make sure I understood the depth of what she imparted to me.
"Who sends these spirits as curses, though?" I asked.
"People, stupid, jealous, petulant, evil people," she replied as she sat back in her rocking chair. "Can you go down to the 7-11 and get some snacks for us, please?"
"Sure," I said as I stood up and grabbed my wallet. "Anything, in particular, mom?"
"Maybe a spam musubi and some chips; I already have coffee, so don't worry about getting me a drink," she said, reaching under her chair cushion and removing a couple of twenty-dollar bills.
"I'll buy it for us, Mom, don't worry," I assured her.
"K'den," she giggled. "My rich son, buying for his mama,"
~
At two twenty-three in the morning, the convenience store down the street from mom's house was rather crowded. I waited my turn in line as people paid for gas or a few drinks and then left. By the time it was my turn, the place was empty, and all the hubbub and palaver that filled the space only a second ago was gone. Finally, it was just the cashier and me. I placed the spam musubi, the chips, a couple of sandwiches, two instant Korean noodle cups, and raspberry iced tea on the counter.
"Is that all for this morning?" The cashier asked. He was a part Hawaiian, part Japanese local guy. Very articulate, and, by his looks, he appeared too intelligent for this job. Maybe he was the owner, or perhaps this was his part-time gig because he had an expensive mortgage to pay off.
"That's it for me," I replied.
"Twenty-three and fifty-two in change," he said. I placed the forty dollars in his hand, and he keyed in the amount until the register popped open and gave me my change back. "Sixteen forty-eight," he placed it on the counter and did not put the difference in my hand. But, of course, I was mistaken; maybe he was part Hawaiian and part Korean.
"Oh, Korean style, no problem," I scraped the change off the counter into my cupped hand.
"What problem?" He answered. "You have a problem?"
"No problem," I replied. "I just know that in some parts of Asia, when change is given, they don't hand it to you; they put it on the counter. I understand that superstition is all." I grabbed my purchase and left, but this guy wouldn't let it go. He came after me, and I couldn't understand why.
"Don't come in here trying to cause problems," he had his finger in my face and stomped on my foot, but it was strange that it didn't hurt. In fact, I couldn't feel it at all. Then, Mom appeared out of nowhere and grabbed the guy in a headlock. In her other hand, she had a wooden bowl with water, as far as I could tell.
"Take this bowl!" She screamed at me. The guy was three times mom's size, but he couldn't get out of her headlock; she had him in a death grip. I took the bowl from her, and then she yelled at me to hold the bowl up to his face. When I did that, mom squeezed his head harder until he let out a gasp of air, his breath hit the water's surface in the bowl, and nothing happened. No ripples, not anything. "Slap the water!" Mom yelled again, "Slap the water!" It seemed like a ridiculous request, but I slapped the water in the bowl, and the cashier dissipated into nothing like he was never there to begin with. I was stunned. Mom took the bag of snacks from me and started back home, "C'mon, we go home and have some snacks. That's it for tonight."
~
"I had my suspicions about that cashier," Mom said while buttering her toast for breakfast later. "I had to be sure, so that's why I sent you to go get snacks. I was correct after all,"
"That was a spirit," I asked and tried to confirm all at once.
"You did good," Mom nodded her head. "You better get some rest, though. The next lesson is about possessions. You know, the stuff you own that can be possessed, and then a person being possessed."
~
Tonight's lesson was about making my own salt. I had yet to learn that one could make one's own salt.
I thought it was something that was just taken from somewhere or grown. However, when Mom explained how the salt we use here in Hawai'i is made, I felt so ashamed and stupid that I began to cry. "What's wrong with you?" Mom asked. What are you crying for?"
"I grew up here my whole life, and I never knew about pa'akai and that you could make your own," I said, so upset at myself for not even bothering to ask.
"Now, you're going to find out, and you're going to do it yourself because after you complete that lesson, you'll need to bring your pa'akai every night from then on," she instructed.
"For when we eat or something?" I wondered out loud.
"For spiritual protection, we're going to delve deeper, and the pa'akai will be necessary," she stretched her arms to me. "Come," she said. "Come here, you," I fell into her arms, and mom hugged me for a bit.
"The door is creaking open tonight, but the wider it gets, the more you will realize just how Hawaiian you are. You'll learn things that will stay with you for the rest of your days and also learn something that will make you very angry. How you keep what you know and impart it later in life will depend on how you receive these lessons."
"I don't understand," I told her.
"You will," she assured me. "As long as you stay the course, you will understand. Now, the god Kāne made the salt so that the waters surrounding the earth's shores would not stink. So, it was the kūleana of Kāne to keep things from getting spoiled or unpurified. So, come," she stood up from her chair and gathered her purse and car keys. "Take me to Kaʻiwiʻula."
"At this hour? It's two in the morning," I reminded her.
"Here is another lesson for tonight that you must keep with you from now on," she spoke so gently that what she said next caught me off guard. But maybe that was the purpose of it.
"When I tell you something or ask you to do something, there is no reply, no remarks, and no facial expressions. You just do it, and you don't ask any questions. Do you understand?" She held my gaze and did not blink once; I nearly said something right then, but I thought better of it.
"Yes, mom. I understand," I nodded.
"Let's go then, and on the way back, we can stop and get coffee somewhere," she said as she walked past me.
~
At Ka'iwi'ula, I pulled along a wagon with two buckets in it. It was a walk but not as cumbersome as I thought, even with our flashlights. Finally, when we got to the ocean, it was surprisingly calm. It was the moon of Kāne which explained the low tide. Mom had me fill both buckets to the top with the ocean water, and then she placed a towel over the cover and secured it by wrapping bungee cords around the edge. Pulling the wagon back to the car, my mom stopped and put her finger over her mouth. "Drums, kneel down,"
We knelt, and suddenly, a horrendous wind swept through the tall grass, and with it came a noxious aroma of sulfur. Mom shoved me to the ground and stood on my back with both of her feet, screaming at me over the mighty noise of the wind, which suddenly picked up to hurricane capacity. It was the first time I had ever heard her chanting in Hawaiian. It was powerful and primal simultaneously; she sensed the change in my body because I wanted to see what was happening, but she placed her left foot on my head, preventing me from seeing anything. Finally, when it was over, and Mom let me up, I caught the remnants of red torch lights traveling through the tall grass, heading toward the ocean.
"Kukuihaeleikapō," my mom told me. "Our ancestors who travel by torchlight."
"Nightmarchers," I said it more as a revelation to myself than an answer to what my mom just mentioned. But then, I broke down crying again. I just experienced a substantial part of my culture that was real and passed right by us. "You were chanting to them, though?"
"I was announcing myself, and you, and our entire ʻohana, hoping that we had family in that procession, and we did," she hugged me again, and I sobbed like I had not sobbed since I was a little boy. "Now you see why you will need your paʻakai from now on?"
"Yes, mom, I see," I replied.
~
"What's wrong with you tonight?" Mom asked. "You're all kapakahi and mōkakī,"
"I was standing in line at the gas station to pay for gas and some chips and a drink," I shared with her. "The girl cashing me out was having a great fun conversation with the Haole guy in front of me, but when I walked up to pay for my stuff, her attitude completely changed. She acted like I stole something or was in the process of stealing something."
"What do you mean?" Mom asked.
"She asked me if that was all I was getting and if there was anything else, and I said no. Then she asked me if I had anything in my pockets, and I said just my keys and my wallet," I took a breath to gain my composure and not raise my voice. "She comes around the counter and starts patting my pockets in front of everyone waiting in line. I got pissed and told her that I did not see her shake down the haole guy in front of me, and she said she did not have to because he was not a thief. I made the mistake of throwing everything at her, including my money."
Mom picked up the phone and made a call. Whoever it was was told to meet Mom at the gas station down the street in ten minutes. She exited her rocker, grabbed her purse, and walked out the front door. I followed close behind, worried about what she might do. When we got to the gas station, she walked into the mini-mart, and that same girl was there.
"Stay here," Mom instructed me. "And stay out of sight."
Mom went in, and less than a minute later, my brother-in-law Mike showed up in his 85 Impala. He got out, went straight in, got himself a Pepsi, and stood in line. Mom grabbed her own drink and went to stand behind Mike. The same drill, the girl started a conversation with Mike, was entirely flirting with him and laughing like a little girl. Finally, Mike's purchase is made, and he takes his time leaving. Mom is next in line, and the girl starts asking her the same questions she asked me. The girl failed miserably when it got to trying to pat Mom down and search her pockets and purse. Mom knocked her out cold and left. We jumped in Mike's car, and he took us home, where we had breakfast before he headed back. Later, after Mike left and it was just Mom and me, I asked her, "Was there a lesson for tonight?"
"Yes, it was supposed to be about patience," Mom said. "But it ended up being about not fucking with the people I love,"
~
Aunty Elena, Mom's cousin, laughed uproariously and soon turned red. Mom was laughing too and shaking her head; tears were rolling down her cheeks as she stood up and walked out the door to get some fresh air before she could finally come back inside. "Oh my gosh," Mom said, still laughing, holding her belly.
"It's not the first time your mama punched somebody out," Aunty Elena caught her breath and gave herself a couple of seconds before she continued. "One night, your mama and I were playing Hawaiian music at this Buck Toy Pākē society club,"
"Was for the carpenters union, I think," Mom added.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, that's the one," aunty Elena confirmed. "We had two other cousins; one was playing guitar, Kimo. Then had Scratchy on bass, and then your mama and I played 'ukulele; mine was baritone, and hers was tenor. So we were singing Ei nei, yeah?
"No, no, was Green Rose Hula; how can you forget the song that got us kicked out of the Buck Toy Society club?" It started again between those two, up uproarious laughter. It was a while before they could compose themselves so the two could continue the rest of the story. "Anyway, there was this one braddah sitting down front, big Podah-gee guy; from where he was sitting, he started trying to tell your aunty Elena that she's playing the wrong keys,"
"That faka kept yelling at me, diminish! Diminish!" Aunty Ella said. "So, I no like cause any kine pilikia, so I ignored the guy, and I let it go,"
"There was a point during the song where everybody is introduced, and they take a solo, so Kimo goes first, then Scratchy, then me, and then aunty Elena,"
"That fuckin' purdah-gee wen wait until was my turn, then he wen jump on the stage with his own 'ukulele and wen try to bump me away from my microphone," Aunty Elena's eye turned a different shade, one I'd never seen before. "Ho, I grab his shirt from behind and spin him around, then I punch him right on his chin. He neva go down right away, so I went crack my 'ukulele right ova his head, knock him out cold!"
"That's when the fight started because somebody else came up behind your aunty and grabbed her by her chi-chi, you see; back then, your aunty had just pau surgery on her chi-chi cause they had to take out one lump," I noticed mom had the same look in her eyes like aunty Elena had. "From behind, I kicked that guy in his nuts, he went down, and I kept whacking him with my 'ukulele,"
"And where were Kimo and Scratchy, the only two men in our group?" Aunty Elena asked Mom.
"They ran away those two mahū," she laughed.
"No, for real," Aunty Elena was being serious. "We not making fun; they really were mahū,"
Mom is now curled up in her rocker, laughing; Aunty Elena has slid off the couch and is now on the floor laughing. When the two of them managed to bring it all in, I had to ask without seeming rude or ungrateful. "Is there a lesson in this, Mom, Aunty?"
"Patience," Aunty Elena replied. "When your mama tells you to do something, you do it. There are no questions and no complaining; you just do it. That is a lesson, too, because if you keep asking too many questions, if all you do is talk, you cannot learn what is being taught. You must master listening and seeing with more than your eyes and mouth. You have to listen to and with your other senses."
"That is the lesson for tonight, the art of patience and listening. This is what you will do from now until sunrise; listen with your other senses," Mom said. "Despite what your aunty just told you, I will not punch you or whack you with an ʻukulele,"
"Eh, play something," Aunty Elena urged Mom.
"Oh no, it's too late," Mom protested. "We're going to wake up the neighbors,"
"No need to sing loud. " By then, Aunty Elena had already removed her ukulele from her case and was now handing Mom's ukulele to her. The two strummed their instruments once or twice and then tuned them by adjusting the keys. Then, Mom began singing with no lead-in to the song, and Aunty came in on her ukulele. Mom joined in on the fourth strum, and a medium of perfect harmony began.
Ke hoʻomana ʻo nei au
nā lā piha hauʻoli
Nā kō kiʻi i lawe mai
ka ʻiʻini iā ʻoe
E hoʻi mai hauʻoli hou kāua
He pua mau ʻoe noʻu
he minoʻaka mau kou
Kou mau maka ʻōlinolino
ʻimo aku ʻimo mai
E like me
nā hōkū o ka lani
Puana nei kuʻu mele
iā ʻoe kuʻu pōkiʻi
No nā lā i piha hauʻoli
nā lā o ke aloha
He mele no Lahela kuʻu pōkiʻi
Even as I write this, my memories have brought forth tears as I recall the atmosphere and the feeling of that quiet late night filled with the haunting harmonies of Aunty Elena's voice, which was so gruff and filled with an 'f' word every few sentences. Yet, her singing voice was angelic, contrasting her personality. Mom's voice filled the entire room, and living within it was a yearning magic. She painted a picture with every word and took your heart on a journey. My aunty, Elena, and mom created a tapestry of music that felt so holy that it could only be heard at a late hour, like that when only the gods were out and about. The song mom sang was also one of her favorites.
~
"We're going to talk about noho," Mom began while peeling away the shells of her boiled peanuts, which she placed in a separate hand-sized bowl. "Aunty Elena will talk about it because she has first-hand experience."
"You faka," Aunty Elena didn't know she would be put on the spot. "You, of all people, should know you cannot just talk about 'dis kine. Nobody going undah-stahn unless you show them."
"I know," Mom said.
"You know? If you know, why do you not show him 'den?" Aunty Elena spoke in a hushed tone now. Her gruff voice just made my skin crawl.
"How will I show him and explain what's going on simultaneously? Does that make sense? It has to be you, Elena," she gave her cousin that look as if to say Mom and Elena knew she was right.
"You faka," Elena sighed, and without any further argument, she went through a few prayers and chants in Hawaiian. Next, Mom brought out particular items conducive to what was about to happen. I was not told everything, but I was expected to absorb and understand it without commenting or asking questions.
"Every 'ohana has their way of doing what you are about to see," Mom looked at me. "There is no right or wrong way; that is why we never say that my way, or your way, is the only way. Not all knowledge is learned in one school. In the future, when you speak of these things, you will say that you can speak for yourself or your 'ohana and not on behalf of all because no one can have or possess all knowledge. Life is your school, and you are always a student."
Aunty Elena's countenance changed suddenly. She sat upright with her chest, shoulders back, and chin up. She spoke Hawaiian in a deep baritone, her complexion went from very clear to ruddy, and her eyes took on a deep, fathomless black color. Where I had loved my aunty Elena because she was bawdy and straight to the point, I now feared her because even though it was her corporeal form in front of me, someone else was there. Someone who vibrated an undeniable power. In a deep baritone, Elena spoke Hawaiian in a man's voice. It shook me to the core. Mom dropped to the floor on her knees and yanked me down beside her, pushing my head to the floor. The whole experience lasted for less than a minute; when it was done, Mom replied, "Maopopo, e tūtū,"
Aunty Elena collapsed on the couch, and Mom went to help her as she slowly came around. "I will get you some water," Mom said quickly, going to the fridge.
"Fuck the water," Elena replied. "Get me one, bea!"
"This is noho," Mom explained. "Your aunty and I were trained as haka in our' ohana. She in her 'ohana and me in mine. The Haole way to explain it is like a medium that channels spirits, except this is noho, where a family spirit or god sits on your shoulders and communicates to your 'ohana through you."
"So, like possession?" I asked.
"No, not like possession," Mom said. "From now on, you must learn not to apply haole terms to things of our culture because there is no comparison in Western terms."
"Timoti thinks you may be racist when you say Haole," Aunty Elena suggested.
"Anything not Hawaiian," Mom emphasized as she returned to the living room and handed Aunty Elena her beer. "Which means any other ethnicity which is not ours. How's that?" She asked Elena.
"Still sounds racist," she belched after gulping nearly half the beer.
"In any case, that is noho," Mom reiterated. "We will speak more of it tomorrow evening. I'm exhausted."
"How can you be exhausted when I was the one who got the noho?" Aunty Elena was incredulous.
"I got exhausted from watching you get the noho!" Mom answered.
"Tomorrow night, you'll be doing everything! I'm just sitting back and watching!" Elena pointed at Mom.
"Same like how you watched me bail you out of jail for beating the shit out of your ex-husband!" Mom retorted. Then, the two suddenly went from bickering to breaking out in uncontrollable laughter. Here we go again.
~
Mom was a wealth of knowledge and very worldly, which to me, as her son, seemed out of character because I had never seen that side of her. Her role as our mom was all I knew, and I saw her as nothing else. I was clueless in that I could not see within those moments when I thought she had veered off course from the learning and would talk about her regrets and heartaches. I had no clue that there was a baby she'd lost the same year after I was born. She was under much stress at the time, working three jobs, playing Hawaiian music on the weekends, and having to contend with our jerk father, who would randomly show up out of the blue and stick around long enough to conceive one of us and then take off. So, there are five of us, which tells you how often mom didn't get the hint until she miscarried who would have been my baby sister. That's what we were told for all of our existence until this evening when Mom began to discuss discerning who your enemies and friends are.
"Both can be members of your 'ohana," she said. That's when she told me that the baby girl she miscarried was not miscarried at all. After I was born, my mom finally learned her lesson and divorced my father. In the process, she met a nice Hawaiian man who worked at the legal aide office. They began seeing one another, and in a short time, Mom was hāpai. When the time came for the baby's gender to be determined, she and the new guy, Roger, found out that it was a girl. One day, when Roger was at work, the rest of my siblings were in school, and I was with my grandparents; my father showed up drunk. Seeing Mom Hāpai sent him into a rage, and he punched her in the stomach and left.
"That was the miscarriage, your father," she spoke without emotion. Perhaps because she had shared it so often with her friends and maybe even her sisters. "Roger found your father later at his favorite bar in Waikīkī and beat him. After that, your father never came sniffing around again. Roger left soon after that, so it was me and all of you against the world."
There was that kind of silence where you sat and took in what had been shared with you by someone's traumatic experience. I gave Mom a hug, and we cried together. "The love you need to sustain you comes from your 'ohana, but the evil done to you also comes from your 'ohana. So, especially if it's a curse, search within your own family first."
My father was long gone by that point. So there was no chance to find him and confront him about it. It may be better that way. The lesson in Hawaiian culture, as Mom knew it and learned it from growing up, was incredibly valuable. Equally valuable were her lessons in humanity, compassion, and deep-seated aloha. The lesson I learned that night was that every human being, no matter what is subject to happiness, sadness, and all other emotions, including our teachers. I gained whole new respect and love for Mom because she went through all that shit and still persevered.
....To be continued
Credit: Kari Patterson
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