Remember YOUR "small keed time"?
Those were the good old days! YOU were young, innocent, naive and maybe even a little bit "kolohe" (rascal). When you look back, I bet you cannot help but grin, yeah? I bet you can just feel a longing oozing up inside of you for a time when life was much simpler. Wherever you live now, if you grew up in Hawaii, you must remember your "hanabuddah days". Eh, no shame ... we all had "hanabuddah".
Eh … right now get choke stories already online written by Hawaiians and Hawaiians at heart. Most all writers had the unique life experience of growing up in Hawaii. That’s why the site is called ”Hanabuddah Days”.
Enjoy these personal stories.
- Details
- Written by Pamela Wailehua Rodrigues
When I was small we used to live across Araki Store in Haleiwa, you know where "Oogenisis" is now? Those was da days. We used to charge stuff from Araki man. He was ole already. My olda braddah and sista used to drive him crazy. They used to "borrow" stuff from da store. My madda used to let us cross da street fo' read comics back den, hardly had cars, as why. Ho, dat store was so dusty, but so good fun.
Den was summa and we knew we was going camping. Da whole family, even my cuz'ns from da mainland used to come. Fo' me and my keed braddah, dat meant no school, just play fo 3 months.
Ali'i beach back then was just date trees, kukui nut and Hau. Our favorite spot was in front da Hau trees. Dey used to set up kitchen tent and all. My stepfaddah was lifeguard at the army beach up da road so we felt like we was da bosses of the whole beach. My faddah used to tie da raft from da army at Ali'i. Good fun jumping from da raft and playing king of da raft.
Den pretty soon nite time. Befo' get too dark my maddah tell us fo' get kindling fo' da fire and "den you folks go get da tires". Ho, we knew we was going have one BIG fire dat nite. So we had to dig one big, deep hole in da sand and pile up da kindling and whatever else wood we wen fine next to da hole.
Den we would go to Three Corners Gas Station, you know da one at da corner befo' you drive past da harbor? Well, das wea we used to get da tires. Da owner (I tink) was one Japanee man, he used to have one ciga in his mouth all da time. I tink he used to just give us da tires, I dunno know cuz I neva used to see money, ass why. Ho, sometimes we load up ten tires or moa.
Den we go back to Alii and start rolling da tires to da hole. Me and my keed braddah, all pau au'au, but we stay rolling inside and over da tires getting all black. So good fun! K'den we start da fire. Small kine at first, just da wood ! My maddah tell us we can have craka and cocoa or tea wit budda fo' snack. Ho, saloon pilot crackas da bes. Just broke 'um in da cocoa and eat up wit da spoon. Afta we pau, we start making owa bed in da sand. We lay down by da fire and measure our body fo' see how long we gotta make 'um and den we dig owa hole, just like one coffin eh? Den we spread da itchy army blanket down, half inside and half fo' cover us.
Befo' you know it, one of da men throw one tire on top. Den we get one big bonfire going and da tires used to burn fast. We could throw couple on top, den we used to have to back up cuz used to get too hot eh?
We used to play wit da fire wit sticks. Could see da wata so we could go walking far places fo' explore. Den we would finally come back to our hole in da sand fo' sleep, still yet playing wit da fire and talking story, saying how I was going watch da fire all nite or my keed braddah was. Or how much good fun burning tires, how big our fires and hoping we going do um again tomorrow nite.
Finally, wen we wake up in da morning we both neva keep watch on da fire. We wen fall asleep talking story. You could see orange burning and around da hole. Da sand is black and red and still feel warm by our feet. All of a sudden I look at my keed braddah and he stay all black except fo' his eyes. Ho, I start cracking up cuz he look so funny. Da tires wen make ashes and now he stay all black. Den he start laughing at me cuz he said,"You too!" We get good fun laughing at each other.
My maddah tell us fo' go wash up. She say, "Ho, you keeds just like wata rats, I tell you. look how black dem from da tires." We beg her if we can go wash in da ocean. "Yea", she say, "but befo' you folks go, cova dat fire real good, eh." So me and my keed braddah cover da fire wit lots of sand. Den we go look at ourselves in da wata and we cracking up all ova again. Those days was da bes! I neva going forget our bonfires at Ali'i.
About Author
Pamela Wailehua Rodrigues from Ft. Rucker, Alabama, graduated from Mililani High School ('77). She served in the Army from '79-'86. Her husband John Rodrigues III (St Louis '76) is in the Army. Pamela is a busy wife, mother (girl 16, son, 13).
I have been the chairperson for the Asian/Pacific Heritage Month celebrations here at Ft. Rucker for the last 4 years and am a very active volunteer. I dance hula with the Northwest Florida Ohana (choke Hawaiians down there) and enjoy sharing the aloha spirit whenever I can.
No comments- Details
- Written by Ralph Villafuerte
Wen I wuz growing up in Paauilo, I used to work weekends fo da Paauilo Shugah Mill. Dose days, if you fahdah or mahdah worked fo da mill, da kids could get weekend jobs in da fields. One yeeah, I wuz assigned to work da "Pick up Stone" crew. My job wuz to walk da freshly plowed canefield an pick up da big stones so da planta machine no broke from da stones. While I wuz walking, had one old Filipino man following me with a bucket tracta. Sheesh, hea I gotta walk an pick up da stones an da bugga wuz riding da tracta. Had bug me li*bit but me young boy, gotta show I can handle. Anyway, me an dis Filipino man had work for a couple weekends togedda an had become friends, plus he know my fahdah well. I started to call him "Tata". Az I stay picking up da stones, every once in a while, get big kine centapee come outsai from unda da stone.
One day, had plenty centapees unda dis big stone. Tata had come down from his comfortable chaaya an went tell me about da centapees. He said dat if you stick one stick in da ground an put da centapee on da stick, dat da bugga going die on da stick. He said dat centapees can go up da stick but no can come down. I told him, "Eh, how u going grab da centapee wit out da bugga bitting u?" He den grabbed one da biggah ones (about 8 inches) behind da head, an had pull off da fangs. He said, "now da buggah no can bite". So I had try pulling da fangs off a smaller one(about 4 inches) and had work, da buggah no can bite. So all day I stay playing wit da centapees. I no scayd now. At da end of da day, I had 4 big buggahs, wit out fangs of course, on my arms. Da buggahs wuz just crawling all up and down my arms. I took da buggahs home wit me.
Wen I had reach home, I wuz calling fo my mahdah to come ousai. Wen she had come ousai, I wuz standing deah wit da centapees crawling all ova my arms. My mahdah had grab da broom an starded to hit da centapees. She went bananas, I wuz yelling "Ma, stop, ow,ow". By da time she had stop, da centapees wuz all dead an my arms wuz soaah. Afta I had tell her about da buggahs no can bite because no mo fangs, I had get mo lickings from her.
Dat wuz da first and last time I bring em home. I still played wit dem at work, but I leave dem in da fields befo I go home. Dis is a true story, go try, pull da fangs out and let dem crawl on your arms. HAVE FUN, BUT NO SHOW YOAH MAHDAH!
About Author
Ralph Villafuerte is originally from Paauilo on the Big Island. (Honoka'a High School '76). He is a confessed "Baseball fanatic".
- Details
- Written by Super User
User Rating: 5 / 5
In da early 1960's, dere was one song dat went: "The best things in life are free...da-da-da-dum"? Who can fo'get dat? Eh, I fo' sure no can when us guys use to sing um in our amateur rock and roll group called da "Outlaws" as part of our kolohe St. Louis High school days. Eh, but based on that anthem, I like drag you guys back wit me, back long time ago when da things us lolo buggahs experienced and sadly wen take for granted, now stay all gone or hard to find. We use to pick fruit fo' free in da mountains and rain forests. Fishing on da reefs fo' hinalea and aholehole was the best! Netting fo' opae and Hawaiian crabs, picking ogo and waiwaiole (ratfeet) limu from da ocean, catching frogs and o'opus in da local streams, and oddah common stuffs from Hawaii's bountiful natural resources, eh no can beat.
One of da memorable things we did back den was picking ogo seaweed from Sand Island and Ewa Beach. It was almost like yestahday when we use to collect rice bags full of da long and short kine ogo limu while making sure we nevah pull um by da roots so dat dey would grow back again latah. At Ewa Beach especially aftah a big storm, da shoreline was covered with free floating limu where all different kine families use to line up on da beach and sorted out da good stuff from da junk kine. Eh, us guys had good fun, and yeah, as a matta of fact, das was a good excuse fo' all da families to get together and take picnic potluck for everyone to enjoy. Who can fo'get all da good smells and tastes of da ono kine teriyaki BBQ and kalbi, brok' da mout' kine beef and curry stews, nishime, long rice, gobo, maki and cone sushis, macaroni and potato salads, and all da oddah kine picnic goodies dat da hard working womenfolk use to make. Not to leave out da young kanes diving for da more plentiful ogo and poking fish and tako way outside da reef.
In Punaluu and Kaaawa-side, us guys use to form circles in da sandy shallow water with small bamboo poles and a scoop net in hand fishing for o'ama. Also too, for moi'li, omaka and opelu during da spawning periods all around da island waters. Yeah, so much fun we had and also all da fish us guys caught just by using da simple kine setup wit da bamboo pole, light suji, and split shot sinka wit raw shrimp for bait. Eh, and den wat was da best part of all, you nevah had to buy license for all of dat!
Plumeria flowahs and mangos trees were in everybody's yard. Neighbors would almost beg fo' you to pick da ripe fruits and flowers so dat dey nevah had to clean up da ones dat dropped to da ground and get all rotten and messy. But da one kine fruit we had to guard and keep one eye on was da lichee. In ordah to make sure we got to taste da buggah, my faddah use to tie up our mean old chow chow dog "King" to da lichee tree to keep da neighbors from cockaroaching um at night. Nobody went near dat tree unless dey like get bite from King. The damn dog even wen bite me as a small keed. Evah since den, I was scared of dat vicious old makule buggah.
Every now and den out of da blue, my faddah use to say to us keeds "Eh, get da mango hook and put um in da station wagon. We going Tantalus to pick guavas and lilikoi to make juice." He nevah had to ask twice. Being da oldest in da family and da one dat always had to climb up da trees, guess who always went? I nevah mind tho'. In fact, I use to like climbing da tall guava trees and also picking da wild avocados and lilikois. Once in a while, we'd run across some mountain apples, which is kinda rare nowadays, even back den. My moddah use to always tell us beforehand, "eh, wen you guys go up dere, look around and cut some wild gingers for da house too". Man, das one good kine sweet smelling flowah I sta' nevah going fo'get. Sort of like being in heaven wen you ma'ke.
Some oddah kind stuff we use to find in da local mountains was breadfruit, vivee, wild strawberries, and Java plums. Us kids use to love dat purple little plum, about da size of an olive, with da real tart kine flavor. Man, dat was so ono dipped in salt kinda sweet sour tangy taste. Eh, my mout' sta' puckering up right now! But wait, no get um on your clean shirt. Da stains sta' permanent and den you going get really dirty lickin' from your moddah if you not careful. Fo' sure I nevah knew how fast my moddah could run when she wen find my dirty shirt one day and chased me down da driveway. Can you picchah dis out-of-breath little keed running fo' his life across da yard with a madder-den-hell wahine right behind his okole? Eh, annodah time also was wen I wen drown da expensive German Roller canary by mistake. Hoo, fo'get da slippah, out came da skinny bamboo chicken feathah dustah. Auwe! Yup, us keeds had hard life! I'm surprised we lasted dis long.
So OK den. In retrospect, dem was da times wen Hawaii was less polluted and our kamaaina lifestyle was more carefree. We had less cars and people, smog was unheard of, and more open land with less crowded beaches. Tropical fruits were more bountiful, and sea life was everywhere fo' da taking. Yeah, life was good to us. Somehow I keep going back in my mind and ask myself dis same question "Where did all da good stuff went?". But eh, I could nevah come up wit any rational or conclusive ansah. Anyway fo' now, what I hope and pray, is fo' our youngah generation to stop, slow down, and try to rekindle da simple things us old futs enjoyed while growing up in this beautiful State. Da good old days are all pau, but I finally had to realize da situation and undahstand where all da good stuffs really went...I think dey call it PROGRESS. Ai-yah!
About Author
Clinton Lee lived in the Kaimuki area on Oahu and attended St. Patrick School in the 50's and St. Louis High School and Chaminade College in the 60's. He now lives in Torrence, California.
- Details
- Written by Mokihana White
User Rating: 5 / 5
Wen I wuz 12 my madda wen let me staht babysit foah da neighbahs' keiki. Da one 'ohana wen call me da most wen stay up around da loop from weah I wen stay. Dey get 5 keiki, from one yeah old to about 10. Da makuahine, ho, she no like clean da hale, wuz alla time all mess up. So wen I wen ovah deah, I would clean da kitchen foah her cuz I wen feel bad she get so many keiki an so much hana foah her to do. Wen I stay pau wit dat den I watch TV till dey get home.
Da time of dis story da makuahine wen call me foah babysit. Dat day dey had went to da beach an all da keiki wuz full of sand lidat. So I wen geev dem all baths, read 'em story, den dey wen moemoe. Den I wen clean up da kitchen like always, but I nevah wen clean up all da stuffs dey wen bring home from da beach dat stay all ovah da floah. By dis time wuz late, about 10 p.m. so I wen watch TV. Cuz I stay plenny lolo, I always like foah watch da "Creecha Feechas" dat wen come on late Friday nites.
Deah I wuz, all alone in da hale except foah da keiki, all dem moemoe, watchin one scary scary movie. How lolo can u get? Ho, da peecha staht getting plenny scary, wuz almost midnight. Dis hale no stay too fah from da old Chinese Cemetery up Mânoa Valley side anden I stay getting' plenny sked. But I no stop watch da peecha cuz I stay so lolo.
Suddenly, I wen heah dis scratchin noise from someweah insai da hale! Ho, da chicken skin staht on my ahms. I wen spock all ovah da place but no could spock nottin, so I tink, "ho, Mokihana, u lolo, deah nottin deah". So I wen spock da peecha again. By dis time da peecha getting even moah scary. Suddenly I wen heah da scratchin again, but no could spock nuttin, but I stay so sked I no can move. Da chicken skin was now all ovah me. I no could even get up foah turn off da TV I stay so sked! So I stay sked from da TV and sked from da scratchin sound. I wen try tell myself I just makin up all da kine, cuz I stay watchin da scary peecha, but da scratchin no stop. I tink, "is dis one obake from da cemetery?" I wuz goin call one of my friends, but wuz so late lidat, no could. So I just wen sit deah, sked like crazy. Da outsai tempachah wuz warm, but I wuz so cold from all da chicken skin all ovah me.
Den, da worse ting, da scratchin wen staht foah come right up da back of da couch! I could heah it getting moah close, comin up right behind my back! And on da TV, all da screamin from dis one wahine so sked from da creecha dat is tryin foah get her! Closah an closah came da scratchin. Closah an closah wen da creecha on da TV. Pooah Mokihana stay so sked she almost wen shi shi right deah!
Right wen da scratchin wen come up to da top of da couch, I wen slow spock behind me, an saw I stay lookin right into da maka of dis big crab! Hui, I almost wen hit da ceiling! I wen spock da floah, an all across eet wuz moah crabs comin in my direction! Da buggahs had come from insai da papah bag on da floah dat da 'ohana had bring back from da beach dat da makuahine nevah wen clean up.
To dis day, I no can remembah wat I wen do den. I like to tink I stay so relieved dat I wen pick up all da crabs anden put dem back insai da bag wit da sand. But one ting foah shuah, from den on, wenevah I stay babysit at dat hale, I always wen azk da makuahine eef dey wen to da beach dat day!
About Author
Mokihana White was brought up in the Manoa area on the Island of Oahu. She attended Manoa Elementary, Robert Louis Stevenson Junior High and University High School. She now lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and a managerie of animals. Mokihana and her husband have a real estate appraisal business and live 15 miles southeast of Portland in Boring, Oregon.
- Details
- Written by William Kapaku
We lived in a three bedroom hale located in the Nanakuli Hawaiian Homestead. Ours was considered an average sized Hawaiian family with four girls, three boys, and of course my parents.
During the formative years though, we always had relatives living with us. It was great having our cousins stay because then there always was enough people for football, baseball, boys versus girls, and the most important competition of all, War!
The TV show "COMBAT" was very popular then, you know the one with Sergeant Saunders, Cage, and Little John? I don't know why I could never stay awake long enough to catch the nine p.m. showing on ABC. Try as I might, I always zonked out when they were showing the credits. But these guys were our heroes. We all wanted to be the Americans versus whoevah; Godzilla, Martians, Nazis, the other kids down the road, etc. I remember my town cousins getting the complete Army outfit: rifle, canteen, and uddah stuff for Christmas. We, on the other hand, used sticks and our pointed fingers to play.
Amazingly at one point, we had a total of sixteen people living under one roof. With that many folks, we kids had to continually improvise, share and make due with less. In our house, stew (all kinds), spaghetti, and chili macaroni with cheese were the norm. Moreover, like the biblical story of Jesus feeding the masses with bread and fish, it was a downright miracle in our house at how far a can of SPAM or Vienna Sausage could be stretched to feed our clan. I guess that's why nowadays, I occasionally eat SPAM and eggs for dinner to make up for all that time I when I was "deprived."
Our sleeping arrangements were also something sociologists should take note of. It was not uncommon to have four kids sleeping head to toe on a twin bed. That is until my cousin Richard came to stay with us. Richard had the stinkest feet on the planet. His tenure lasted all but one night and he was immediately relegated to the hali'i on the parlor floor throughout his stay at Nanakuli. I guess we kids learned about public opinion at a very early stage in our lives?
Our Hawaiian hale in the Homestead helped shape our way of thinking as we all grew up and went on to form our own families. By the way, it wasn't until years later when reading about the VA Home Loan Program that I learned the true meaning of "single family dwelling."
About Author
William L. Kapaku Jr. was born and raised on Homestead land in Nanakuli, Oahu. He graduated from Kamehameha High School in 1973. He is a US Army Major (retired) living in Korea. He now works as a Department of the Army Civilian serving as an Installation Manager of a 3000 man installation in Uijongbu City, Korea.
- Details
- Written by William L. Kapaku Jr
User Rating: 5 / 5
Long before the Clinton Administration got on the "Don't Ask" bandwagon, my family and schoolmates practiced our own version of not asking...although, ours had absolutely nothing to do with sexual orientation. I called our way of life, "Da NO ASK Policy."
Luaus were common occurrences on just about every weekend in our Hawaiian Homestead community. My muddah would gather us all up and give us the order that we were going whether we liked it or not. Democracy was a belief and not a practice in our ohana. It was something everybody else in Hawaii and America did, but not us.
On the day of celebration, our family arrived at the luau, made the grand entrance, and then sat down to some ono kalua pig, chicken long rice, squid luau, all da raw stuff and poi. When we were pau eating, Daddy went off to shoot some craps with the rest of the men to help raise money for the House and we sat back in preparation for the hula show.
My muddah, on the other hand, had other ideas. She made all of us kids get up and serve juice and extra helpings of opihi, raw crab, cake, pineapple, etc., to the other guests. Then we had to go around and clean the rubbish off the tables. I kept asking myself, "What's wrong with this picture?" So, like one lolo, I wen asked my muddah, "Ma, aren't we supposed to be guests too? Why we have to do dis, while da other folks all sitting around watching da show?" Her answer was to slap my head and then tell me in a curt way, "Eh, NO ASK those stupid kind questions. Get to work. Bumbye, dis family going appreciate what you did for them." Sure enough, when we had our own family celebrations later on, there were those same folks right in the thick of things helping with the decorations, food, and entertainment. Mama was right.
One of our neighbors moved to another house in the homestead and their old yard started growing weed forests, kiawe tree babies, and scores of koa bushes. Plus, with no one else around, the place instantly became the neighborhood landfill for those who didn't want to drive to Waianae or Maili. Well, at least it was closer than Hakimo Road. As a result, I had the dubious honor of having to clean both my yard and the abandoned yard next door.
On one very early Saturday morning, my muddah got up early, made us breakfast, and slipped quietly away outside under the cover of darkness. Me? I read the tea leaves and immediately figured out that the next thing I probably would hear was my name. Sure enough out of the clear blue came, "BILLY BOY!... bring me da rake and da sickle."
At first, I acted like I was deaf. I tried to convince myself that my muddah must've really been calling my bruddah Kawika? Perhaps, there were some acoustical problems or howling winds outside? I even attempted to disappear by turning myself into the Invisible Man, but like Superman sitting on a mountain of Kryptonite, my powers wen fail me at the critical moment.
So I walked outside begrudgingly (this means with very little Aloha in my heart), found the things my muddah wanted, and TRIED handing them to her. Wen she never make the move to grab'em, I knew I was in big trouble. My muddah was one step ahead of me and had thwarted my plans to make the great escape. She had no intentions of going into the manual labor mode...that was my job. Then she said, "WE gotta go clean the empty lot next door." I asked myself, "WE?? What you mean we? You get one frog in your pocket or what?" But I neva, because I knew that that was one NO ASK kind question to do at the time. Plus, my muddah always told me, "Eh, I no care how beeg you get. You better not test me or I going Wipe You Out!"
While my other friends were at home watching Hercules cartoons on Saturday morning TV, there I was sitting in the hot sun swinging away and building up my own Samson-like power with my muddah in the supervising/management role. By noon, I was totally disgusted. I stopped and asked my muddah, " Ma, how come da Hawaiian Homes no come and do dis? How come we gotta do'em?" She turned, gave me the stink eye and said, "Eh, NO ASK that dumb question. Bumbye, you going see why we have to do dis."
We worked all day Saturday and Sunday... cutting, raking and burning, and hardly put a dent in that eyesore forest that weekend. We eventually cleaned out all the junk and debris a few weeks later. But, by that time, more of my own family and those of nearby houses were involved. It became a total community effort, as we worked tirelessly to make our Nanakuli neighborhood a nicer place to live. As usual, mama was right again.
Besides our home, another place where the "NO ASK" policy was rampant was in school. The classroom logic went like this: If you had to ask the teacher a question that meant you probably did not know the answer. And, if you didn't know the answer that meant you must have been a born again IDIOT...which was just one step up from being the village variety kind.
Therefore, in school, it was extremely important to look like you knew all da answers rather than open your mouth, ask da teacher da question, and in the minds of your peers, remove all doubt as to your IQ. That's why Nanaikapono teachers were challenged a lot. We students usually made like we knew all the answers or at least more than the teachers did. We felt so smart and often times questioned our need to be in school? There were more interesting things in life such as surfing, swimming, or fishing. Later on, I would learn that we were wrong!
Now while it was not okay to ask the teacher questions, friends were another story. During one session, while the teacher was out front talking about isosceles triangles or something, I was completely in Mushroomville, without a clue or even boat to row up the creek. I quickly turned to my friends Harry, Raynard, and Fredrick and asked them, "Eh, what she talking about?"
To a man each one replied, "NO ASK me cuz I dunno?"
I found myself in a dilemma. I couldn't ask the teacher anything because make "A." And, I couldn't turn to my friends because they were in the same situation with me ... lost in space without an escape pod.
When I went home that night, I told my muddah about what happened in school. She looked down very tenderly at me and replied, "Son, in school you no scared'em. No worry about what da other kids stay thinking. You ask all da questions you like cuz das da only way you going learn."
I took her words to heart and never looked back. I learned that there was a right and a wrong time to NO ASK. I never stopped asking dumb questions throughout the remainder of my years in school or afterwards.
Once more, mama was right... I love you Mom.
This story is dedicated to my mother, Mrs. Virginia "Lehua" Kapaku, who still works at the Nanaikapono Elementary School's Hawaiian Culture museum as a kupuna. Over the years, she's taught her own ohana and scores of other Nanakuli kids life's little lessons. Nowadays, she's teaching their kids.
About Author
William L. Kapaku Jr. was born and raised on Homestead land in Nanakuli, Oahu. He graduated from Kamehameha High School in 1973. He is a US Army Major (retired) living in Korea. He now works as a Department of the Army Civilian serving as an Installation Manager of a 3000 man installation in Uijongbu City, Korea.
- Details
- Written by Rev. David Kapaku
User Rating: 5 / 5
I love my fuddah. I was young wen we met. He was the funniest dad you could ever have. But he had an uncanny way of saying "N0" wen you needed something. For example you might ask him, "Dad you can loan me five bucks?" He would reply, "Eh, wat you tink I look like, Bank of Hawaii." Or, "Dad, we can get some ice cream?" Again he would say, "Wat I look like, Farmer Mac."
Dad was a hard worker. He would get up every morning around 4:30-5:00am, take a shower, go to Alvin's Drive-In to buy a cup of coffee and the Honolulu Advertiser. Then he would come home, read the paper, and head off to work around 6:00am.
Before he left, my fuddah did two tings: one, he would kiss my muddah "goodbye", and secondly, he would come in our room, turn on the light and say, "Get up, get ready for school, and no fo' get to water the plants wen you get home from school." Wen my fuddah wen turn da lights on, we was dazed. It was like someone taking a picture with a flashbulb three inches from you face. Surprisingly today we are not walking with a seeing eye German shepherd and white cane. I tink my one bruddah stay reading Braille.
He worked on Oahu, the Big Island and Maui. Sometimes wen he worked on a uddah island we would not see him for two weeks. My muddah was in charge and she would buss us up to remind us "neva question her authority." You cannot knock a father who works and puts food on the table, clothes his kids, and educates them in some of the finest schools in the state (some bruddahs and sistas wen to Kam School).
Wen my fuddah was home and we wanted to go to da movies, we would clean the house and yard extra special. We made sure mom and dad would notice. Den we would spring the question, "Dad, we can go to da movies? He would say, "Eh, who I look like, Kaiser?" But dad loved us and gave us money to get into the movies plus some spending money for coca cola and li hing mui.
The movie place on Farrington Highway was open air and owned by Mr. Aki, da school counselor. The theatre was near to Nakatani's Drive-In. The movie theatre smelled like urine and the asphalt was sticky. And during the movie, da back row was for making out. And somebody always rolled a Coca-Cola bottle under the bench during the movie from the back row, and you would hear roll all the way to the front. And wen it rained, everyone moved to the stage, lay on his or her backs looking up at the picture. Everybody got a stiff-neck after the show.
Wen da movie pau, the kids would plan to meet at the Fire Station on Mano Avenue before going home. As we walked up the driveway my fuddah would leave the porch light on. And it was usually the last person's job that came in to shut the light. And if you forgot to shut the light off and left it on all night, you could hear my fadduh scream the next morning, "Eh, what I look like, Hawaiian Electric ?!"
I love you dad. And wen you visit me in Indiana ... I'll keep the porch light on for you.
About Author
Reverend David Kapaku was born at Kapiolani Hospital and grew up in Nanakuli. He graduated in 1976 then moved to Ft. Wayne, Indiana to attend college. He has completed his Masters at Oakland City Graduate School of Theology and will complete his Doctorate in 2001. His parents still live in Nanakuli on Mano Avenue.
- Details
- Written by Bill Kapaku Jr.
User Rating: 4 / 5
Another one of those often times asked questions in my life, besides when I graduated from high school, has been, "Eh, you rememba wat you was doing da day JFK died?" Remember? In the words of Franklin Delano Roosevelt, that day will "live in infamy" with me.
I was sitting in my third grade class in Nanaikapono Elementary School that fateful November morning. My teacher, Mrs. Balicanta, was a short, fiery Filipino woman. Although she was small in stature, she had a very loud voice. How loud was it? Her voice was almost as loud as Frank Fasi's white double-knit, polyester suits and shoes.
Mrs. B ruled our class with an iron fist. She was a stern disciplinarian and did not put up with any nonsense from a bunch of hardheaded kids. Plus, she was also married to the vice-principal, which carried an added element of fear. When all means of getting our attention had failed, she always had the ace in the bag with, "I going tell your muddah and faddah!" In those days teachers actually went to your home to discuss things with parents. Imagine 30 Hawaiian kids cringing in fear of their lives everyday with that threat hanging over their heads?
Anyway, Mrs. B was called away to the principal's office that morning and when she returned she was virtually in tears. She announced to the class that President John Fitzgerald Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas, Texas. A hush fell over the class. Me? I was trying to figure out "assassinated" meant? My pea brain quickly guessed that he must have been killed or something because more people started whimpering. So I turned to my best friend Harry and in a giggling whisper told him, "Brah, I going find that guy who wen kill da president and I going put a hurts on him too."
All of a sudden there came this horrid shriek, "WILLIAM!!!" and then twenty questions. "Why are you laughing? What's so funny? Have you no remorse? What kind of monster are you? ... blah, blah, blah." I sheepishly answered, "Hah? I nevah do nothing. No was me." But that wasn't true. So Mrs. B ordered me out of the classroom and had me face the wall to ponder all the sins I had committed. I then heard her announce to the rest of my classmates that no one was to play with me, talk to me, or sit with me during lunch. Then, I had a clearer idea of how Isaac K. felt getting paddled in front of the class by the principal for allegedly stealing sixteen cents in the first grade. Man, I felt like I had just committed a major crime.
Now you have to understand that up until that time, school for me was a complete blur. I figure that if I ever had to look up the definition of SCHOOL in the dictionary, it would probably read: Recess, Lunch, and go home. I had no clue about reading, math, or anything else that filled the in-between times of my day. For me, it was eat, drink, and be merry ... sometimes not in that order.
So I spent the rest of the day looking at the outside wall, being angry at the world for my plight, and having my so-called "friends" laughing at me. My real buddies, though, quietly slipped some extra milk and cookies at lunch to help ease my pain. I couldn't wait for the day to end. Soon the bell rang and I took off for home.
When I got there, I turned on our black and white TV and the only thing on was church music blasting away. Every channel (all three) had church services, church music, and/or a picture of Jesus being played. I thought I was going to die because TV in those days was on a one week delayed basis. That meant I was going to have to endure two whole weeks without Captain Honolulu. I was sure glad when things returned to normal about a week later and that my life would go on as well.
Several years later while I was attending Kamehameha, I had the good fortune of returning home to Nanaikapono's annual PTA bazaar. I mingled around the various booths, throngs of people, and bumped into Mr. and Mrs. B with their newborn baby. She asked me how I was doing and congratulated me on getting into Kamehameha. I remember that she was awfully quiet and demure; unlike the person whom I had known before.
It was at that time that I realized that we both had changed. I was a little taller and less in awe of this imposing figure. I had matured and saw the world a little more differently than I did in 1963. I learned that Mrs. B, and others like her, wanted us Hawaiians to learn and get ahead. She drove us hard so that we would have a better future and that for all intents and purposes, she loved and cared for us all. She was a true professional and a woman full of aloha.
Mahalo Mrs. B ... because like JFK, you made a difference in my life.
About Author
William L. Kapaku Jr. was born and raised on Homestead land in Nanakuli, Oahu. He graduated from Kamehameha High School in 1973. He is a US Army Major (retired) living in Korea. He now works as a Department of the Army Civilian serving as an Installation Manager of a 3000 man installation in Uijongbu City, Korea.
- Details
- Written by George Cabral
User Rating: 5 / 5
I guess I was around 3 or 4 years because I was not in school. You know, stay home, play outside while Mom did the laundry outside in the back in the sink. Boy, she had it rough. We neva had one wash machine, so she was doing the laundry with one of them washboards. Her hands were always almost eaten raw on the knuckles from scrubbin' the clothes. Then she had to rinse em' and then ring em' out by hand before she could hang em' up on the line. Later on in the years she got one of those that washed and had da kine ringa' built on the side. You know the kind that you have to put through the two rollers and had one handle on da side that you had to turn and get the clothes through. Mom was not a tall one like the rest of the family. Most of us reached up to and past 6 feet. We got that from Dad's side of the family. So most times she used a chair because the wash line was too high, for her at least. I was small too so I couldn't help either. Those were the days that she had no time to go to the beach with me but I still kept busy.
It was always an adventure in the backyard for one small keed back then. I was playing cowboy or army (the story of my life eh). Or go climb da mango tree and act like you in one bomber plane when the wind blowin' till Mom catch you an tell you fo' get down. Or they tell you "No cry wen you fall down cause den I goin' give you somethin fo' cry fo'". Wow, could neva figure dat one out. We use to have couple turkey's in the back yard in the coop and once in awhile da bugga's would get out somehow. Whoaa brah time fo' hide. Dem turkeys could put up one good fight. Time fo' me to run in the house then. As kids we use to catch the cardinal birds with one cardboard box. We used a long string hooked up to one stick that held up the box with some bread in em. Eh, we neva know you not suppose to catch em. But most times we let em go later.
Anyway the only other kids around that I could play with were some Japanese kids up the road from us in the next lane. They had one great house built right on Farrington Hwy. It was one two-story house with one big yard in the front and back. Had one sprinkler system installed fo' wata da yard (back then dat cost plenty money). Had all kin fruit trees like mango, lemon, grapefruit and one lychee tree too. They had da kine Japanese grass in da back that use to poke in your pants wen you sit down. Had to watch out fo' da kine bumbucha centipedes in da grass too. But the best was da kids had all the latest toys. They use to have all the latest stuff like da plastic wata mat that we use to hook up the hose and slide on in the 2-car carport they had built with red cement on the bottom. It was also the first time I was introduced to clay. The closest we had to that was the mud out in our back yard. They had plastic cowboys with the wagons and the horses.
I guess they were very well off cause they use to go vacation every year to places like the Mainland or Mexico and even Spain I think. They use to bring back a lot of the souvenirs from those places and I was awed by it all as a kid. They use to go to places like Disneyland in California. You know that back then we kids were lucky to see it on TV if we had one. Anyway the family was real nice. My youngest sista use to baby-sit the kids wen da parents went out. They had 4 boys in the family. It was David, John, Cy and Mark. Cy was my best friend and we were the same age too. And Mark, he was the younger one but we all played together. John would play with us once in awhile and David, well he was much older than we were so he never really played with us. Like I said they had all the latest toys that I could play with and I got to watch da cartoons on their TV (we never had one till much later). The best was wen they would pull out all the uka billion coloring books and color crayons, we jus had fun fo long time at the dinner table downstairs.
Cy's Mom could cook too. You know the Japanese kine stuff. Once in awhile I got to stay and eat and man dat bugga was ono eatin'. Wasn't too often that happened but when it did boy, was I in heaven! As kids we didn't usually get lunch back then with money being tight. I never really missed it either. You know, neva had em' so neva miss em'. Then there was those Friday nights when my sister babysat for them. It was a treat for me too. I usually got to stay over too till the parents got back home. Before the parents left we always saw them off in the patio while we were in our pajamas. That was one of the great deals with that, we all had to au au before. So here we are, one local keed and 3 Japanese kids, us all in pajamas outside with no shoes in da carport, as they were about to leave. I guess that would look funny now. The pajama was always da kine that look like baseball uniforms only wit shorts. Just before taking off the parents would then give each of us kids (me included) anywhere from 10 cents to a quarter. After they left we would go down the store (B & K) to treat ourselves to wat eva we decided. Most times for me it was the c moi or one small bag Fritos or one Hershey candy bar. Of course back then stuff was bigger then today's. Those were great times. As they say, you can never go back. But I still have my memories to relive. Anybody want to be my co-pilot in the mango tree?
About Author
George K. Cabral was born in Wahiawa and raised in Nanakuli, Oahu. He graduated from Nanakuli High in 1973. He joined the Army thereafter and shipped over to Germany where he spent almost 22 years of service. He retired in 1996 and is now working in Operations as a Government employee for the Army in Bamberg, Germany. He and his wife have two girls, have settled down and made a home there. They try to get back to Hawaii every three years or so to visit the Ohana there and get that Aloha spirit.