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Written by Kamaka Brown

User Rating: 5 / 5

"Hoo brah, next time you tell me if I like ride ...remind me to say NO!" Hama said between taking breaths. He was straining against the back fender of the Chevy attempting to push it out of the traffic.

"No ack", Peewee answered from the driver's side of the car. "You wanted to check out da cheek at Byron's not me!" He had the door open half way and was pulling hard at the steering wheel with no "power."

Hama already broke his rubbah slippahs and was working on some good size blisters from the hot summer asphalt. Pushing a car in the middle of the day in Mapunapuna was not exactly how he had pictured his day. To top it off it was his GOOD slippahs too!

Truthfully, it was Hama's idea to check out da portagee girl that worked at Byron's near the airport. Peewee told him the car was "kinda running of fumes" and it was Hama that convinced him that the gas gauge didn't always tell the truth.

"Eh, 'member da time we was down Sandy's? Eh?" Hama said. Peewee was trying to remember WHICH time. Dem two guyz had many adventures at Sandy's so he was sorting through his memory bank to match the one Hama was now recalling.

"What? The time we lost da ka-keys in da surf?" he said

"No stupid, not that time"

"The time somebody wen thro' up in da back seat?"

"No dummy" Hama was trying to remember which time THAT was!

"The time Punchy dem got beat up by da Tongans?"

Hama knew he needed to stop Peewee right away. "No, not that time. The time da gas gauge said neva have gas and we wen go all da way to Nalo and back home. 'Membah?"

"No" Peewee had drawn a blank as usual..

"Ok, neva mind den must have been Brandon dem I was wit" Hama conceded.

"Brandon?!!" Peewee stopped sipping his soda. "When was dat?"

Hama suddenly realized his mistake. Peewee and Brandon had beefed ova Karen Masuda. Brandon kicked his okole big time and Karen went to da game with him. Peewee was now experiencing some emotional "flashbacks" right now. It was mid morning in Kapahulu. Hama was having his Zippy's curry and rice breakfast. Peewee was making a mess crunching through his apple Napoleon. The flakes of pastry were all over the table. It was Hama who was "grounded" and couldn't use the family car. So he was on a mission to convince Peewee they should drive out airport way.

"No can go that far, brah" Peewee said between slurps of soda. " ...da car kinda running of fumes, man."

It was at this point Hama was trying to convince him the gas gauge wasn't as accurate as he thought it was. However, the train of thought went careening off track at the mention of Brandon Barbadillo.

"Eh, no get yo' bay bee deez all twisted" Hama countered quickly. "Dis was long time before you wen beef with him. I tink even before you met Karen Matsuda."

Peewee's eyes got really slantly. Hama now realized he had crossed the line. He wished he hadn't even mentioned Karen Matsuda's name. There was a slight twitch happening now with Peewee's right eye. He had stopped chewing.

Karen Matsuda. Hooo. Karen Matsuda. Peewee was replaying the "tapes". Her father had a record store right on Kaimuki Avenue. It was THE place for the latest 45's. You could hang out at Matsuda's after school while waiting for the bus and hear some great music.

Mr. Matsuda had jet black slicked back hair. His sideburns and cigarette drooping from his mouth made him a cool guy. Everyone wished their Dad was cool like Harry Matsuda. Karen went there after school to do her homework and help in the store. Peewee got a job sweeping and helping stock inventory after school. That's how he was able to afford to buy the Chevy he and Hama were now pushing.

It was Karen Matsuda that Peewee had a "big time" crush on. She was popular and was always with a gaggle of girlfriends so Peewee knew he never had a chance. However, he figgured he had "inners" on a chance to date her because her father had hired him to work at the shop.

Somehow, Peewee never could find the words to express his feelings because everytime he tried the words in his head would disappear. "Karen." he would start.

"Yes Peter?"

PETER ... she called me PETER ...BOING! Gone da words. "Um... nuttin"

Mr. Matsuda knew what was going on. "Eh Peter ...you like my daughter, eh?"

Peewee cast his eyes toward the floor and fidgeted with his hands. A goofy grin took control of his face. "Well, you gotta talk to her sometime boy. You da strong, silent type no?"

Well, Peewee thought. Silent? Yup. Strong? Um .. He was a puddle it came to talking to Karen. And so it was Brandon Barbadillo that came into the record store with his loud mouth and corny jokes that got her attention. It was Brandon that made Peewee the brunt of his jokes.

"Eh ...what kind of Wee sits in da corner and gotta go bat-room?" Brandon was holding court in one corner of the store. Harry and Herman Furuta, the twins always followed Brandon around. Assorted other kids waiting for the 4:30 bus were all in ear shot. "What kind?" the twins answered in unison.

"A PEE wee!" Brandon chanted loud enough for Peewee to hear above the din of Bobby Darin's "Splish Splash". "A PEE wee ...get it? PeeWEE ...."

"Eh ... Eh ...lo lo ...what you thinking??" Hama was attempting to reel Peewee back from "Neva-Neva Land".

"So eenny-wayz ' Hama was still on a mission, "we go Byron's den, eh?"

Peewee turned off the video tapes playing in his head and nodded through a fog of memories. "K ...but no blame me if we get stuck."

"No worry ... beef curry," Hama said pointed at his plate of curry trying to make a joke, "my cousin is da manager at Byron's. He owe me money. We can put gas afta."

So now it had come down to dis. Pushing a ton of steel in the hot sticky Mapunapuna afternoon. They managed to get the car on to a side road.

"We can walk 'em, brah" Hama said. "We walk to Byron's and get da money from my cousin and put gas. K?"

They ended up and hour later outside Byron's, T-shirts stuck to their backs with perspiration talking to Eddie Boy Muira, Hama's cousin. Eddie Boy didn't have all the money he owed Hama but he did have a couple dollars on him and he did spring for free sodas.

Hama's object of affection had called in sick but he did have his eye on another girl with stiffly sprayed hair under her hairnet who worked behind the counter.

Eddie Boy drove Peewee to a nearby gas station while Hama stayed behind because he said his feet hurt. Actually, he was hoping Cheryl Watai, his new objection of attention would be taking a break soon so he could try his "Hama" charm on her.

The plan was for Peewee to roll back to Byron's for Hama. "So, Hama get you going on one of his great plans again, eh?"

"Yup" Peewee said picking at a scab on his knuckles.

"You should just leave bruddah at the drive in and split." Eddie Boy laughed.

"Believe me Hama is in it for Hama. You know the real reason he didn't come with us to get the car started right?"

"Yup," Peewee popped a knuckle.

"So look, I going give you one small piece of advice. I olda den you guyz. I watch how Hama use his friends. I bet he told you I owe him money, right?" Eddie Boy asked.

"Yeah"

"Well, that's not true. He asked to borrow money because he said you guys needed gas money."

"Yeah" Peewee sighed, regretting he let Hama talk him into driving across town.

"Ok. Look. Here's five bucks. We go put gas in da can in back my car. Den we go get your car started ... and den you just split. No worry about Lolo-head back at the drive in. I take care dat." Eddie said.

"Nah ... I can go back get him," Peewee countered.

"Eh .. Listen to me." Eddie gave Peewee a piercing look. "Do like I tell you. Hama deserve that. He gotta learn not to take advantage of his friends. Hama is full of hot air and right now he's running on fumes."

"Ok," Peewee conceded.

Cruising Ala Moana, Peewee pulled under the shade of a large tree in the cul de sac area near McCoy Pavilion. He got out and pulled a beach chair from the trunk.

He was feeling good. It was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He actually felt lightheaded. Eddie Boy was right. Being Hama's friend always meant doing something for him. It really was a one way friendship. Well, from today on, it was gonna be different.

He slipped the keys under the floor mat and put his shorts on under a towel. A swim out to the rocks at Ala Moana would be perfect. He crossed the street, ran across the patch of sand and dove into the cool clean Pacific ocean.

"Eh, Hama ... come'ere." Eddie Boy called out. Hama stopped in mid-sentence. He had cornered Cheryl Watai in the employee break area. She was batting her false eyelashes as him.

"Wot?" Hama said. "Wea's Peewee?"

"Neva mind Peewee, brah." Eddie Boy said, "you and me gonna have a talk. Cheryl, your break is ova."

Cheryl made puckering lips at Eddie Boy and left the room. Hama saw the look in Eddie Boy's eyes and the look on his face and knew he was in for a solid lecture.

Eddie Boy had a picture in his head. It was one with Hama wearing a white apron, a paper hat and wielding a spatula at Byron's Drive Inn near the airport!

Kamaka Brown was born and raised in Hawaii. Childhood years were spent in Waimea Valley on the North Shore of Oahu. Now a California resident he has not forgotten his Island roots. He is a published author and performs local style comedy at concerts and clubs on the West Coast, Honolulu, Las Vegas and the Pacific Northwest. He is a staff member on AlohaWorld.com.

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Written by Kamaka Brown

It was time for get hair cut. I knew it because my neighbor Charlie-Boy sed: "what da bah bah shop wen burn down?" Man, dat Charlie-Boy for get smut. I also knew it because my muddah sed: "We going stop at da barber shop afta school tomorrow."

"Yeah, cut 'em short dis time" my dad chimed in, "dat way you get your money's worth."

Oh no. I was going to that rat bite place again. I neva like da japanee lady at the plantation barber shop. It was one "cut" fit all. No matter what your style hair, shape head, how big or small your ears ... every body came out looking the same ...rat bite.

"Ma, we no can go da uddah barber shop in Haleiwa?" I whined. "Da lady ova dea, she know how for do box cut." BOX CUT, man. That's the LOOK. My city cousins had BOX CUT. They were cool. I wanted a BOX CUT!

"We no more time for go all the way to Haleiwa." ma sed. "We going Kahuku Barber Shop right after school tomorrow.

Hooo da junk. I know how it was going to happen. First afta school going get choke customers at the barber shop. Not because she was that good, but that was the ONLY place in da camp fo' cut hair.

Well, not unless you count Domingo's house. Domingo cut hair right out of her...um...his house. We kinda neva like go that house because Domingo was ... um ... ok...you know how Michael Jackson look? Ok ... NOT like that. But kinda swishy and way too touchy for me.

Domingo had make up one flier. Now this was before xerox machines. It was mimeograph kine. Domingo worked at the elementary school as one custodian and had access to the mimeograph machine that the school used to make bulletins and forms for your parents fill out when going get field trip like Bishop Museum or sumting.

So the flier sed: "Domingo's International Salon ... Shampoo, Style, Cut, Perm." Oh yeah had one slogan on da bottom of the page: "If your hair is not becoming to you ..you should be coming to Domingo"

Um .. No! Not me. One kid's mother took him to Domingo's and he came out smelling sweet like one violet. And Domingo wen STYLE his hair. Was all fu fu and stuff with HAIRSPRAY. Hoo...dat kind still emotionally "challenged" down to dis day.

I think the "International" part was that Domingo went to cosmetology school which was in a very exotic place called "chinatown" in downtown Honolulu. He had his certificate of completion posted on the wall of his living room that doubled as a salon. Plus he sed his mother was from Spain and his father was from Manila. I guess when you put all that suff together .. He kinda was "Domingo International".

So there I am at Kahuku Barber shop afta school. The barber shop lady lived on one side of the house and on the other side she ran her business. She was a "all business" barber. "Next" she said in a sharp Japanee school teacher voice. She was shaking out the white sheet she used as a cover and putting the dollar bills from the last customer in her apron sweeping the floor wit one broom adding to the pile of hair in one corner.

"Eh...you guys sleeping out dea" she said to the gang of boys sitting on a well worn wooden benches on the porch. We were all reading comic books. I was into Green Lantern and Superman.

Couple old guys were reading the filopino newspaper. My friend Billy was looking at one old battered Field and Stream magazine. There were pictures of haole guys in yellow highwater rubber overalls holding up bass and perch.

"Eh, what da heck is 'hook and release?'", Billy was holding up a page from the magazine.

"I dunno," I sed, "mus' be some kind fishing term haoles use."

Later I wen ask my father. "Hoo...das when dey use one fishing hook no mo' barb on top. Dey catch da fish and den throw yum back in da wata. Stoopid no?"

I was amazed about two things. First my father was so smart. And second, dat haoles would throw fish back in the water that they caught. Eh, any fish that was at the end of the spear or the line ended up in the frying pan that night at our house!

"Next !!" Barber shop lady getting mad already, two kids pointing at me. Hoo man, it was my turn.

I thought maybe Domingo International Salon might be ok after all. He played "doo-wop" music on the record player. "In the still of the n-i-i-i-i-g-h-t ...oooh I held you s-o-o-o-o tight... shooo doo bee shooo be dooo...."

NAH! And be teased for the next 6 weeks in the cafeteria by Albert Mendonza and his boys. NAH! And nobody choose me for kick ball team ..cuz I still smell like one flower? NAH! And for da teacher say: "What a nice haircut!" NAH! I stepped up and took my punishment...

Looking like everybody else in Kahuku Elementary School...RAT BITE. Shiney patches of skin showing through the short hair that was shaved with number 3 clippers. The barber shop lady pushing your head down so your chin was touching your chest and pulling your ear to the right when she wanted to shave the left side.

I looked down at the locks of my hair rolling down the white sheet cape. Heavy sigh. The price we pay for uniformity. I sneaked a look ova at the next chair and there was a gray haired old lady sitting in it looking at me. "Bolo head" she cackled showing me a toothless smile. "Bolo head" she repeated.

"Hea" the barber shop lady handed me a mirror. "Ok?" she asked.

By da way. You NEVER EVER say it is NOT OK. If you do, she push your head down and get out the number 4 clippers and it's all ova. BOLO HEAD !!

"Yeah" I said. She wasn't waiting for the reply because when I said "Yeah" the sheet came off a split second before I finished saying the word.

I handed her the money which she put in her apron pocket. "NEXT!" she said as she shook out the sheet and started to sweep.. I was rubbing the back of my head. I could feel the bumps on my head.

I now understood "hook and release" .... I had just experienced it at Kahuku Barber Shop.

Maybe those haole guys in yellow highwater rubber overalls holding up bass and perch were on to something. They were wearing baseball caps. Hmmmm. What were they hiding under those caps?? Could it be ... RAT BITE !!!!.

Kamaka Brown is on staff at AW.  Originally from North Shore of Oahu, he now is a tropical transplant living on the West Coast.  He is a stand-up comic performing in clubs, concerts and other venues in Honolulu, Las Vegas, Pacific Northwest and Los Angeles.

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Written by Kim Leilani Sellers

User Rating: 5 / 5

Reading chru some storeez make me teenk back to my hanabada dayz back in Nanakuli. Playing chase mastah wit my brada an' cuzens who wen live nex' doa to us. I was raised by my mada's mada an' my mada's beh~beh sista. I rememba eating mangoes off da trees on da front yahd. Da sweet plumeria smells. Ho, cuzz. I miss home. Wat I loved da mos' wuz wen da adults wen plan fo' gaah-da at ow-ah house, da hale nui, fo "get togeddah".

Was sooo good fun. Wen us stay small keed onee get limated stuff fo' do an' places fo go, so wen da ada cuzens, anteez, an' unco's wuz going come ova, ho, we knew wuz going be solid.

One tee-pa-co Sahtuday would be us keeds waking up EARLY to Antee awreadeh cleaning ou'sai. (ho, sista, onee 7:30 a.m. an da pa-lah awreadeh clean. Ta-week.) So, she awreadeh jammen on da front yahd. Da soun' of da stoo-ped rake on da concrete wuz IRRA'Z. But den us would rememba da get togeddah lay-tah on dat night-so QUICK we jump out ow-ah beds. Da adults would hurry us up fo' kaukau break-fes' an' clean up. Das da onee paht us kids neva like-da cleaning cuz Gramma was stay pah-ti-cu-lah, an' she wen pass dat on to Antee, so we had to really do good jobs wen cleaning. (Come to teenk of it, I was onee about aight yee-ahs ol' den). Us wen learn early. Man, Gramma would make us un-fol' da sheets if we neva fol' um right. One time I wuz stay crying cuz' I teenk I wen re-fol' one sheet about TEN stinken times. I wuz mo' shame cuz mah youngah cuzen Kehau, who wen live nex' doa wuz watchen me an' feelen sorry fo me. I can laff about dat now. But, I no fol' dose sheets li'dat anymoa. Fo'get it. (Das da kine fitted sheets).

Anyway, wen we all wuz pau clean, which felt like fo'evaz, we could finally go play; me, mah brada Ed'z, an' da cuzzens nex' doa, Kehau an' Tiga. Us would run wild in Gramma's yahd. Chru-out da day we would hea ran-dom adults yellen at us fo "watch out da plants." Or, "No play nex to da gate o else da basketball going fly in da shtreet an' no teenk I going chase afta um."

Plus, we would be getting hungry cuz some ada adults in da hale stay cookeeng. We would come in'sai fo "use da lua" (but me an' Kehau had to chry sneak some grines from da keechen). I rememba watching Gramm'z dem cleaning da lu'au leaves an' smellen um cookeeng on da stove. Mah mada would be mixen choke poi in one big POT (not bowl, now) while chrying fo dance hula at da same time. Anyway, ow-ah plan fo' snag some grines always neva work. Antee o-wah Unco Somebody would always buss us an' we would get chased out da house. "Go ow-sai an' play so us get room fo do all da cookeeng an watevaz. Nex time you kamali'i's can help us". We wuz onee allowed fo come I'sai if we REALLY had fo go lua, drink someten, owah we wuz going stay out da way an out of sight (code fo: stay in'sai da room an' watch t.v. an no come out til we tell you).

Finally, as da day passing, we had to help prepayah da tables, decorate (if somebody felt da need fo ack an' like decorate like lu'au-type) an do watevaz da adults would comman' us fo do. Den we had to take turns fo au'au. (Us still stah-veeng cuz onee had small kine snacks fo lunch cuz of da get togeddah we had to wait foa).

By da time we all pau bafe an' looken (chried) slick, about half da ada 'ohana came awreadeh. Of coss mos' of da unco's stahted inu~ing. Somebody in da coh-nah bussing out da ukes an' EVEN da ray-jee-oh (radio) at da same time. Of coss da adults stay remine'ing us fo make ow-ah rouns'. "Honi-honi Antee, you neva see her long time. " Ho, if we wen run pass one 'ohana memba an' neva pay ow-ah repecs, ho cuz, us would cetch crax from Grammz.

Finally we can kaukau. We wuz so hungry, us piling on EV'RYTEENG. Da beeg peepo's telling us "no ack cuz you guys cannah eat all dat. " Us like stay prove dem wrong, so we conteeenue on. Ho, da grines. Kalua pig, lomi~lomi salmon (even lomi~lomi tomato fo da ones aller-gek to salmon), two kine laulaus: pork wit da buttafish an' da one wit cheecken, all da raw stuff, aku made all kine ways like fried, in'sai da poke, pulehu'd, dried, etc. (an' wuz neva ahi), chilla peppah and chillah peppah wata, kim chee, sushi, , ba-b-que kine food, an of coss da POI. Oh, ow-ah maka's wuz always mo beeg den da opu, so us got crax fo waysteeng mea'ai. Den Grammz made us geev um to da pet dogs an cats (even da shtray bugga'z who made house), so it no "really go fo waste cuz da ah-na-mo's stay eating um." (lay-tah on we stay hea dat we shouldn't geev pets human food, which dey grew up on at my hale. How come? Notten wen happen to ow-ah pets).

I would crack up watching da drinka'z stahteeng fo feel good. Ho, da loveeng dey get. An' fo SING LOUD, echo chru~out da Nanakuli valley. "Das okay eef da nay-ba'z hea. Tell um come ova an join us" (which dey did.) Oh, an' how generous da drinka'z got. Us would scoah change an even ONE an FIVE dolla bills. Of coss we had to earn um-dance hula, sing, grab dem bee~yah, or, "Asss Unco dat Antee like bum one paka from heem, please."

Den somebody (usually Gramma an her siblings, da Mama-Nui's of da 'ohana), would buss out deah, "good ol' days" to whoeva like listen. Dis da non-alcoholic an' haff cigarette-smoken crowd. Dey would always tell deah keiki's fo keep up ow-ah cul-cha wit us nex geh-na-rayshen an dey would shtress da im-poh-tance of 'ohana (immediate and extended) an how good stay fo get togeddah "like now". Dey like fo see evreebody enjoy each ada an' stay in touch, an no wait fo someten bad fo come togeddah like at somebody's funeral.

Da get togeddah's usually las' late into da wee ow-ahz of da nex moh-neeng. (Us keedz would wundah how da heck dey could stay up all night an be noisy. ) But us neva cayah cuz us keedz would be sneaking drinx or smokes fo ack beeg, playeeng in da yahd which we use to call da jungle cuz all Grammz'z trees, plants, and flow-az all ova; us would get los'.

As we got oldah, an' fo dose of us who stahted inu-ing finally felt how da adults felt back in dose 'ohana get togeddah'z: da buzz, da feelen' good trip, along wit da HANG OVA'z. (T'ank Akua I wen stay quit.) Anyway, WE stahted planning da get togeddah's an we see some of ow-ah keeds wheah we once was. We foun' ow-ah selves saying stuff like, "Stay out da house so we can cook. " Or, "We going grine wen Antee dem come ova."

I stay MISS dose 'ohana Get Togeddah'z. Es-peh-shallee since I stay live Mainlan' now. No can beat home an' wat you useto growing up wit.

Now dat Gramma passed on, I hea her words: "da im-poh-tance of 'ohana" an' ada stuff. Mo' hahd fo' me-I get one son an' I so useto growing up wit choke 'ohana aroun' me; deefrent fo heem. (da 'ohana ova hea live too fah.) I jus have to do mah bess fo keep dat 'ohana togedda-ness feeling so mah son will feel um, too until we all go back home.

Aloha! 'O Leilani ko'u inoa. I was raised all my life in Nanakuli Homestead. Class of 90 NHIS. I moved to Indiana fo little while in late 2002. Now I stay live California. I stay married to one wundaful kane name Ajala (he not kanaka maoli, but das okay), an we get one beautiful son, 'Imipono, which I gave berf to in COLD Indiana in January. I am currently a Child Development major at Ventura College. One day I will find my way back home. I know God will take us back there somday.

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Written by Wally Bacio, Sr

User Rating: 5 / 5

I cry wen I rite dis story about da good ole days of whea I was bon an raise. Makaweli, Kauai (peepol no yom as Pakala) is da home of da Gay an Robinson sugar plantation, da lass on Kauai, an probally in all of Hawaii Nei, I not shua.

I now retired an living in England. You know, eh? Da place whea Capt. Cook had come from. I live ony about 60 mile, as da myna bird fly, from whea he was bon an raise. An, he been "discova" Hawaii when he been land by Waimea, ony about two mile Kekaha-side of Pakala. Too good, yeh?

Anyway, not so long ago I been just come back from visiting da ohana in Hawaii. I still get famly in Pakala, but my Fudda and Mudda maki aready so I no can go visit da house I been live in since I was bon. See, if you no work fo da plantation, you gudda move out an da bosses give da house to unadda worker. Kinda sad doh cuz my Popoman had live in dat house since 1913 when he been first come from da Philippines. Dat was very sad wen I been drive pass da house cuz had make me rememba all kine stuffs from small keed time.

Wen I been drive down da road fo see da camp I been recanotice how evryting stay fallin down, man! Wat I talkin!!?? Da place still look da same from wen I been lass see om in 1990! Da houses stay old, an even da pukas in da dirt road still stay da same place. Not too much diffren from how was in da 50's an 60's. Wen I drive down da road I been close my eyes an no needz look cuz I rememba from habit whea every puka was. Get so much pukas dat you no can drive mo den 10 kine feets in one straight line. I rememba afta da heavy rain da workers go fill da pukas wit sand or gravel an da road was level fo lilly while. But, neva lass long. Everybody huhu about da pukas but my Fudda use to tell dat da bosses neva like macadamize da road cuz da pukas been stop da cahs from going too fass around da camp. Smaht, doze guys!!!

Da centa of "town" was whea all da special kine stuffs use to happen. Fot of July, Easta egg hunt, wedding pahtees, an all kine stuffs lahdat. We call da place "da Park". Had two stores, Kokubo an Kashiwai stores. Had one small grass park an one dirt basketball court. Da Daligcon boys was Waimea High School all-star basketball playas cuz dey cud practis weneva dey been like. Da court was right outsai dem guys front doa. Lucky buggas!!! We even had one outdoas kine movie tee-a-tah. Mr. Nakashima from Eleele use to lean one beeg screen up nex to Kokubo store an show good kine movies. Even had da kine "chapter" kine show like da Lone Ranger an Tonto. No have to pay, but Mr. Nakashima use to ask fo donashen wen intamishin time. Some peepol give money, but plenny guys run away until dey turn off da lites again. Was kinda mean, but us was ony small keeds dat time. Anyway, was good fun!!! Christmas time da bosses trow one big luau down by da "landing" fo all da workers an dey famly. Had so much kau-kau dat evrybody cud take food home afta da pahtee pau. Laulau, Kalua pig, poi, lomilomi salmon, kulolo, haupia, an wat eva else you cud cacarooch. Man, doze was da fun kine days!

Da peepol who been live in Pakala was good kine peepol. Even to dis day, da keeds an grand keeds still live in Pakala cuz dey still work fo Gay & Robinson. Talk about da keeds. Pakala had sum of da best atletes on da west-side of Kauai. You name it. Football, baseball, basketball, track. An all went Waimea High School. Names like: Honda, Keale, Baron, Kahale, Harada, Daligcon, Yamada, Nakaya, Campos, Furutani, Mizuno, Fernandez, Albarado, Duarte, Perreira, Hookano, Furtado. An doze ony jus da guys about da same age as me. Had plenny mo!!!

I mean, look at da kine peepols had. Filipino, Japanee, Poragee, Kanaka, Borinki. An we neva care wat you look like. We was all one beeg happy famly. We all live, sleep, an play togedda in one happy place. We neva no wat "racial prejudice" was. We neva care. We was just happy fo be alive. Live and let live!

So, even doh da houses stay fallin down an da roads get plenny pukas, Pakala an all da peepol who been live ova dea been no what "Aloha Spirit" was. Even if sum of dem neva no about dat kine stuffs, dey lived it, natrally, cuz dey had om insai dem wen dey was bon. Das why I say, dat, alldoh get plenny udda places dat is good in Hawaii, "Pakala no ka oi!!!

I am from Makaweli, Kauai. I retired from the Kauai Police Department and now living in England. My English wife and I have two sons and three granddaughters. I like writing short stories in pidgin English.

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Written by Kamaka Brown

User Rating: 5 / 5

Chappy no was happy. His morning was definitely not going well. First da car neva like start in da garage. Da kids had left da car door open the night before and with the light on insai da car ... auwe! Can you say: "Ded Battery?'

Now he was going be late for work. Monday morning was NOT a day to be late to work. Da luna at the warehouse was watching out for ennybody who was late. Especially on Mondays, which was da day mos' workers called in sick or came in late.

He looked at his boy's bike leaning against the wall. "You know, sometimes you just gotta do wot you gotta do," Chappy was talking to himself. The visual, however, of him riding his kid's bike down the street in front of Bartalona's house was not a pleasant one. They had a pit bull they never bothered to tie up. He knew he had to sneak pass the house as quiet as he could. Of course, pumping up the hill to the highway was another thing that passed through his mind. "I will never make it up that freakin' hill" he muttered to himself as he put the bike back against the garage wall.

Also, it was rent day. Mr. Suzuki would be knocking on the door tonight. Chappy squeezed his eyes shut really tight forcing out the thoughts of making another excuse for not paying on time.

The sound of a honking horn snapped him out of his ponderings. "Eh Chappy, you need ride or wot?" It was Nobreiga from next door. "Wot you get, ded battery?"

"Yup", Chappy shrugged. "Shoots brah, I definitely can use one ride."

Chappy slammed the hood shut and reached for his lunch pail. It had pink bears on a ferris wheel on the cover and white fluffy clouds. "Eh ... dis da keiki lunch box ... wea is mine?" he said out loud. Sure enough one of "da kidz" was going get one good size baloney sandwich today. Chappy already knew the guava jelly sandwiches inside would be a poor substitute. But, what you gonna do ... be grateful you GET something fo' eat fo' lunch, some peepos no more. Period!

Nobreiga eased his large "land cruiser"classic Plymouth Fury out into the Monday morning traffic. "So wot you did dis weekend?" Nobreiga asked looking straight ahead at the line of cars backing up at the stop light.

"Took da kids to da ole man's house. He always brightens up when he sees dem." Chappy rubbed his eyes still trying to shake the cobwebs of too many beers the night before. "Him for tell dem stories too. Just like he used to tell me wen I was small kid. I remember some of his stories but I tink he change the names now to protect da guilty." Chappy laughed remembering that the stories were about him and his brother back in da "hanabuddah days".

Nobreiga had lost his wife the year before to cancer. They never had kids. Her relatives from Kohala wanted him to move Big Island but he decided to stay in the house they both lived in. Plus he had the shop. Was kinda sad. Chappy kinda wen hanai Nobreiga afta dat. During the months afta she died Chappy made shua Nobriega was eating. Nobreiga had a good collection of tupperware at his house now. Chappy's wife wen remind him to retrieve da bowls from Nobriega's "wit da cova too", he was told.

Although there was an empty lot between his house and Nobriega's, Chappy could see into the side living room window that the light was left on most of the night wit Nobriega sleeping in da over stuffed chair by da night stand. It appeared that he did not sleep in the bedroom he and his wife shared for over 20 years. He and Nobriega never did directly discuss her death. Chappy didn't really know what to say. "Jus' tell'em how you feel, babe" Chappy's wife said. "I dunno how I feel," Chappy answered, "da words no come out."

"Eh, tanks for da ride, brah," Chappy said after a few minutes of silence. "Damm kids left da door open and the dome light wen drain da battery, I tink."

"No problem, Chappy." Nobriega smiled behind those thick cokebottle glasses. Nobriega's Body and Fender Shop was across the street from the warehouse where Chappy worked. It was Nobriega's father's business that he got when his father had a stroke.

"How's business?" Chappy inquired.

"Kinda slow deez days, almost tax time eh?" Norbriega gestured with his right hand, "gotta jus' hang on until summah time."

"Yeah, us too," Chappy said, "I tink da boss going lay off some guys. Good ting I finga lift drivah eh? Onee get me and da japanee kid can drive and da kid miss plenny work. Das why I couldn't call in about my car. Fo' shua dey lay me off."

"If no was for da fleet contract I get with da used car lot, hoo ... I be sucking wind." Nobriega said. " dem guys always give me steady business. At least I get dem to rely on plus insurance jobs."

"Eh, Chappy, I hope you no mind, but I gotta stop fo' gas at da cornah, k?"

"No problem, still get plenny time. Eh, you know wot, lemme catch some of da gas." Chappy reached for his wallet as the car eased next to the gas pump.

"Nah, nah brah, I get'em" Nobriega said

Chappy was already out the door, dissappearing behind the slowly closing door of the FastGas place. "Um .. I like ten dollar on pump numbah five, k?" He handed the clerk the only bill he had in his wallet. He quickly did a secondary search of his wallet hoping for another sighting of something green, to no avail. "Das how it goes," he sighed to himself.

"Pump'em on five, brah." he said as he got back in the car. "She get ten bucks."

"Eh Mahaloz, Chappy, you neva have to do dat." Nobriega said leaning in the driver's side window looking over his thick glasses smiling at Chappy as the numbers on the gas pump clicked it's way to ten bucks..

"It's cool, Nobreiga. Mahaloz for da ride." he replied.

They eased out into the street and Nobreiga's Plymouth Fury purred through the gears. It was his father's car that Nobreiga was driving. It was his "baby" now. Nobreiga kept it impeccably tuned and maintained. The car smelled of Amorall and the sweetness of a strawberry auto deodorizer.

The car purred to a stop at the warehouse gate. "Again, brah, you one life save-ah...if no was fo' you mebbe I no have job today," Chappy said as he got out of the car.

"No problem. You need ride home?" Nobreiga click the Fury into "drive" with his foot on the brake.

"Nah, I can catch ride with one of da guys. Thanks doe."

Nobreiga gave da shaka sign. With that the Fury hung a wide U-Turn and humped over the curb into the parking lot of the body and fender shop.

Chappy put the pink lunch can under his arm and walked through the gates and the small loading dock. He hoped he wouldn't get "razzed" for having his kid's lunch box. Yet he had other things on his mind. Suzuki for one. He would be climbing the stairs up to the front porch and knocking on the screen door this evening fo' shua. Chappy let out a heavy sigh. "Well, I gotta just hando it when it happens." He shrugged his shoulders at his locker, putting the lunch box inside of it and slipping into his "SMYTH STORAGE" jumpsuit ... his "monkey suit" as he called it.

The day passed slowly. Chappy moved containers and unloaded trailers throughout the day. He even worked through his lunch. The warehouse foreman noted that Chappy showed "good initiative" and "worked without supervision" on the "worker's evaluation" sheet for the day.

It was pau hana time already. Chappy had a dull rumbling in his stomach to remind him he had skipped lunch. He mused that it was a good thing because he scored some points with the luna and he didn't have to take the ribbing from the other workers about the lunch can.

"Eh, mahalos for the ride, Ernie." Chappy said, jumping out of the Chevy 4x4. He had gotten a ride with Ernie Lum who worked with him and lived a couple of streets down. Chappy noticed Nobreiga's car was not in the garage and the house was dark.

The kids yelled their usual greeting while not looking up from the cartoons on TV. Chappy walked into the kitchen and hugged his wife from behind. She had her back to him stirring a pot on the stove. "Hey baby" he said warmly

She turned to him with swollen red eyes. "Did you hear?"

"Hear? Hear what, babe?" Chappy stepped back to look at her.

"About Nobriega .." she sobbed. "He's .....dead."

"Whatchu mean he's ..." Chappy stopped and stepped over to the window facing Nobriega's house. It was already pass six o'clock and the daylight was quickly surrendering to the night. There were no lights on at the house. The garage was a black empty hole.

"He put a hose inside his car from the exhaust pipe in his shop and..." She started sobbing again.

Chappy sat down at the dining room table. He leaned forward with his head in his hands and elbows on his knees. The rush of the morning flooded his mind. The flashes of Nobriega's face and voice fast forwarded through his head.

"Honey," she said.

"Honey," she repeated louder.

"Honey, what is this?" she asked urgently.

She was standing at the table with the pink lunch box open. An orange. A small bottle of apple juice. Two guava jelly sandwiches ... and twenty crisp one hundred dollar bills.

Chappy stood up next to her. They both stared incredulously at the contents of the lunch box. No words. They both hardly were breathing. A stream of tears rolled down his face. Bartalona's pit bull barked in the distance.

"There's a note, Chappy," she whispered

"Brah," the note began, "this is for all the tupperware and ono food your wife made and shared with me. This is for the beers we had together. This is for the silence times we had when neva need words. This is ju' becuz you was always there for me. Brah, dis is ...jus' becuz. Nobriega."

There were footsteps at the door. Mr. Suzuki. Chappy looked at his wife's tear drenched face. No words. There was none to be said.

"Daaaaaad, Mistah Suzuki at da doa!" one of the kidz yelled from the living room.

"Um...tell Mistah Suzuki....um... I be right dea." Chappy called out with a trembling voice.

Kamaka Brown was born and raised in Hawaii. Childhood years were spent in Waimea Valley on the North Shore of Oahu. Now a California resident he has not forgotten his Island roots. He is a published author and performs local style comedy at concerts and clubs on the West Coast, Honolulu, Las Vegas and the Pacific Northwest. He is a staff member on AlohaWorld.com.

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Written by R. Mapuana Cottell

When I was a child, Momma tried desperately to teach me hula. She was a great dancer and felt that her oldest child, her firstborn daughter, should carry on the family tradition. Well, the family tradition had to wait. I was four. I had Barbies, and the plastic diva and me had plans to go on a chicken hunt in the garden with manly-man Ken. I had no interest in hula, no interest in anything other than chasing those big fat birds through the plumerias and rows of corn in our L.A. County home in Covina.

When I started junior high, I began to notice that the boys had this fixed image of Hawai'ian girls. We were island princesses, were the equivalent of that plastic diva I so loved when I was a little girl, and just as smart, too! They were in for a shock. I had a brain, and a mouth, and when the two worked together those buggahs nevah know what happened. It was as if Pele herself had arisen from her heaving and heat-spewing pit just long enough to show those little Southern California bozos that we Island titas and titas in training were far more than hula dancing bimbos. We had more up front than in between the ears! No more was the image of this grunting and giggling brainless beach bimbo. It had been replaced by a proud and sincere keiki o ka'aina. Talk about shocked ... I was! I couldn't believe that I was so angered by these boys who had labeled me the way that the mariners had labeled the women of ancient ancestry. No way were my parents selling me to anyone, and no, I wasn't about to sell out to their ideals of who I should be. Momma took notice of this, too, and quickly signed me up for formal hula lessons with her friend, Maile.

Hula with Maile lasted a little over a year. Then we were sent to a lady named Luana. I stayed with Luana until I was forced between graduating high school or learning more hula. Well, seeing as how my father was a teacher, we all know what happened, right?

It was okay that I had to forgo any more formal hula lessons. I continued to learn from all my aunties, both blood and calabash kind, and I became quite good at it. During hula lessons and high school, there was a girl named Lori. She and I were friends and remained so through the years. Several years later I see Lori at my cousin's bebe shower. Lori's checkin' out my cousin, Chris. One thing led to another, they fell in love. Soon my beautiful little nephew, Kawika, was born. He calls me Titi ... so what's this got to do with hula being on the brain? Okay, okay...cool yo' jets, yeah? Aye-yah!

My mom guys cater lu'aus, and they knew that Lori was a GREAT hula dancer, so they asked her to choreograph the lu'au shows, which she did happily. "Eh cuz," she said one day, "you like help me wit da show?" Of course I would. I jumped at the chance. Lu'aus and parties and dancing all da time! Auwe!

Our halau meets every Wednesday night. I call it "Church Night," for it is where my children are taught the lessons we learn to love, share and be with one another. They are taught lessons of Aloha and the traditions of the culture. They have calabash aunties, uncles and cousins, we are all related in heart and soul only. That's where it counts, the Aloha spirit, in the heart and in the soul. There are quite a few of us. There are our 'bebe's" Ka'ele and Valerie, who are the highlight in all of our shows. There are my babysistah Napua and Elaine and Cindy, our Tahitian dancing sistahs. They don't have any Hawai'ian blood, at least I don't think, but they are all heart and soul. There's our "Pocho Princess," Leah, who likes being called Nohea. She's as silly as ever, but when it comes to hula she is serious. She knows that there is to be a certain amount of reverence to the dance. My sistah-in-law, Marie, is learning the fineries of being considered an auntie . There's Kisha, my cousin, and Tressie, one local girl from the 'aina who just happened upon us like a blessing that we asked for and were surprised to get. We get two new girls, too, Jessica and Charmel.

And then there's Lori and I, the two who one day thought," Maybe it'll work." and it did. Here we are, not just dancing, but bringing our knowledge of aloha and sharing it through the dance. I work in Lori's office as a file clerk. I like the work, but I think that I was hired not just to do the mass amounts of filing that she has, but to actively have part in the halau. I helped her start it. I guess she feels that no one better can understand her crazy obsession with hula other than me. I was there when she first started formal lessons, and was there the day that she found out that her calling was not behind that desk. That was just her job. Her calling was to be the best Hawai'ian she could be, and to do so by sharing her abilities through the dance. I don't want to toot my own horn, but man, we are good. We are good because Lori and I teach one thing above all else; that Aloha is all, it is there and to be shared.. We are good simply because aloha is part of our souls, put there by years of training by our island born parents, aunties and uncles, both real and calabash.

"Thursday Hawai'ians" is what we were once called, because Thursdays are when the halau would meet for rehearsals and class. Last time I checked, we were all Hawai'ians and Hawai'ian at heart each and everyday of the week, even on Sundays!

Mapuana was born and raised in Los Angeles instilled with aloha by island born parents.

I dance hula, and am a freelance writer and artist. I have two keikis, Kahaku, 7, and Maile, 3. I dance and help my cousin Lori Goodness-Soares, make da girls "tow da line" at our hula halau, Halau Hula Ohina O Mea Nani, which is located in Upland, CA.

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Written by Lovena Harwood

Ho, I remembah wen I was one keiki and da New Yeahs in da aina! Ho, no can sit still heh! On New Yeah's eve I like go outsai and play wit da fayah cracahs li'dat. Dis da one night dat us kids can stay up late. Ho, we wuz like wild pigs running around yelling cuz we so happy we stay up late and stay all daawk outsai. My fadduh wen go buy plenny spocklahs and fayah cracahs from da stoah. He buy plenny small kine, but my eye git real beeg wen he open da package and insai stay da beeg kine fayah cracahs. Us kids like da beeg kine fayah cracahs cuz make mo noise. We go take da package and den go separate all the beeg ones so dat we can light and chroo um one at a time li'dat.

But da bes kine wuz da one wit all da beeg fayah cracahs dat stay on one long, long string li'dat and at da end git da beeg bag of dat silvah pawdah. Da pawdah stay in one red paper covah and git label wit pake writing on it. Hooooo, das da bess kine heh! My fadduh wen make one spechul hangah fo hang da beeg one. He wen get one long stick wit one nail on da end. Den he wen balance da stick between da side of one trashcan and one cement block. He wen go hang da beeg one on da nail and jass wen da clock stay 12, my fadduh would light da end of da beeg one and run! Us kids would be covering ouah eeahs, laughing and yelling da whole time da fayah cracahs stay popping li' dat. We like fo see who can make noise loudah den da fayah cracahs.

Wen wuz all done, we go help my fadduh sweep up all da papah. He go poot em all in one pile and early da next morning we go look chroo da pile to see if get any dat nevah pop. Wen we fine da kine dat nevah pop yet we go light um. Sometimes dey would pop, but sometimes dey nevah cuz dey stay all wet if wen rain li'dat.

Ho, doss wuz da gud ole daz! Now I stay oldah and no like all dat noisy fayah cracahs. Oni like watch um on da TV! :)

I was born in Wahiawa and raised in Pearl City on the island of Oahu. I now reside in Massachusetts just several minutes north of Boston. I'm happily married with two nani daughters, one in high school and the other in college. After being laid off from work as a process engineer due to company downsizing, I made the decision to make my hobby of soap making a business. I missed the "island ways" so it was with this inspiration that I started East Coast Tropics which specializes in handcrafted soaps made of Hawaiian luxury oils. I also enjoy both digital and non-digital photography.

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Written by Jack Strubel

User Rating: 5 / 5

Wheah iz da bes place you eva went in da aina? An no say: "L & L" ! Any body eva hea of dis place called da blue room? (No, not some new disco at the Hyatt!) It's on da Mokulua islands off da shore of Lanikai, Oahu.There is a crack in the mountain on da island on da left if you facing da wata from da shore at Lanikai. Once on da island you try go stay walk aroun da odda sai goin towards Kailua sai, not Waimanalo.

Den goin come to one crack in da lava goes from da wata alldaway up, up, up, da hillside (dats one bird santuary, so no go up da hill, stay by da wata). I no know who firs discovered dis but ma old roommate who is 50 someting now, tole me hees entire senior class Kailua High School, I don't know what yeah but was a while ago, fit insai dea. When I wen went was da 80's -90's, lidat.You jump down in da ocean by da crack ... was dark an scary.

I tole ma frien: "What brah you pupule or what?"

He tole me: "What brah you tink I like die or lead you to your death?"

I tot about it he seemed pretty responsable so I wen chance um.

We had to wait in between waves an swim when da wata go recede. Gotta swim hard, about 20 feet, into da pitch dark, I mean dark. When we got insai, ho da dark! Had to, as soon as feel sand insai da cave, go turn around an make a'ama crab an back up till get enough room for erybody fit. Ho! Ony can hole 4 or 5 people, da hole class my okole! Den wen erybody huddled insai our back to da walls it happened.

I axed my frien: "Hey brah, why dey call dis place da blue room?"

He look at me an said: "Try wait, you see."

Jus den I herd dis loud crash an dis gus of win! Ho! Da watah insai all recedin' an I gettin litto bit scahd. Dis wall of wata goin come kill us. Dis place oni small. We goin get slammed into da walls. Here it comes! Dat wall of wata come rite up closing da openin we came in from. Da sun behine made da cave glow blue from da reflection!!

Was awesome but we was scard cus da wave goin hemo us into da walls. Dat wave came full speed towards us. Jus den da buggah drop to nuttin'. I mean about 3 feet away was head high goin slam us. Nex ting nothin.

Ma frien jus laff. He knew nothing would happen. He stay one awesome waterman. Can't jus go any kine day. Gotta be calm enough, but dat was one of my most memorable experiences wit da aina an da ocean.

Jack says, "I'm not a writer, heck I'm barely a typer." He lives in da Portland, Oregon area, and loves to grind plate lunches. "I probably eat 2 to 3 plates a week." He is a licensed contractor with his own cabinet shop.  He has been married 10 years to a wonderful woman, Jackie. He's a beer drinker and all around joker. He thinks he's funny and that's what counts, sez Jackie.

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