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Written by Wayne Yoshida

One time, I was just sitting inside da house, noting to do. Just staring outside da window. I saw da kine big black an yellow wasp flying agains da window screen. Back an fort da wasp was flying, and hitting agains da screen to get outside. Den, da wasp got stuck inside a spider's web. Real fass, I see da kine small black spider run to catch da wasp. But da wasp too big, much bigger dan dat spider.

Now, I tink da wasp is going win, yeah? But da wasp is stuck inside da spider web, an struggling to get free. Da spider by now is biting on dat wasp. It was an amazing ting, to see da struggle between da small spider and dat big one wasp. Den, all of a sudden, dat wasp break free from da web. But still, da spider is biting on dat wasp, never letting go. So togetter da spider an da wasp flying togetter, like a funny kine flying monster wit two heads.

But still, like before, da wasp is hitting againss da window screen. But dis time, he have passenger wit him - dat spider, still biting him on neck. So now, da wasp an spider boat flying together, still smashing againss da window screen, buzzing back an fort, juss like before. Dis two-head flying monster, wit dat spider still not letting go, smash againss da window for forty-five or more minutes. (Like I said, nothing to do.)

Will dat wasp shake off dat spider from his neck? Will da spider eat a meal bigger dan him? Who will win dis battle of nature in front my face?

"Lunchtime!," my mom calls me from da kitchen.

I smashed dat wasp-spider monster wit rolled-up newspaper and went to eat my lunch.

Wayne Yoshida is actually from the Mainland, born in Santa Monica, CA. But, like most Sansei, has many, many, many ohana from Hawaii. Mom and her family are from Lahaina, by way of Chicago. They went to Maui High School too many years ago to remember. "At all holidays, we all spend many hours to 'talk story.'" Wayne is a technical writer for a semiconductor company near LAX, and enjoys photography, making furniture and ham radio. He lives in Huntington Beach, California where the sand and ocean remind him of quiet times on Maui visiting "Auntie Ethel and Uncle Theo in Wailuku." And, yes, Wayne says, "I always have a magazine or newspaper handy to Swat flies or spiders!"

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Written by Izzie Kikue

User Rating: 5 / 5

One time one bunch of us wen go beach (what else get fo do? Go library and study?? I no teenk so) and while all da ress of my friends was having fun bodysurfing, I wen go busy myself catching as much small baby ghost crabs as I could... You know da pakanini kind crabs dat make holes in da sand and wen you walk next to da hole dey POOF right in'sai to escape, so you no can catch em. Jahs like ghost/obake... now you see dem, now you don't.

Anyway, I wen catch ukas of doze kewt crabs and had poot dem in one cup. I was already one teen-agah attending Jr. High School at dat time. Maybe one of you ohana can tell me what possesses a teen-agah to do certain teengs cause I don't have any idea what prompted me to do what I did next......

I seen two haole couples sitting in their beach chairs. Obviously, dey was from da mainland cause dey needed umbrella to guard against dat dreaded RED SKEEN syndrome haoles get if dey stay in da sun too long. Dey was talking stories li'dat, and looked like dey was having one good time.

Now, I had all da crabs in'sai one cup in my hand and I was looking at dem crawling on each uddah trying fo' escape. I felt bad dat dey had to suffer li'dat and decided to let dem go. But, being dat I was one kolohe teen-agah, I no could jahs let dem go, but I had to make "fancy" kind release.... Sooooo....

I wen walk ova to those 4 haole people who was sitting on da beach enjoying demselves. Mind you, I neva know deeze people at all, but I figah, what da heck....

I stood in front of dem until dey all wen look at me wondering what da heck I wanted.... den I wen smile and say.....

"Eh... I get CRABS, you like SEE??"

Afta I wen blurt dat out... I wen pull my bottom part of my bikini litto bit and ALL da UKA -Thousands of crabs came crawling out of my bottom and spilling onto da sand. Da look on da peepos faces was well worth da foolishness I wen display dat day.

Dat is a mild kolohe story of my hanabuddah days memories. And yes... Jahs in case you're wondering... I wen make shuah ALL da crabs were returned to da ocean dat day.... Neva have any "stow aways"....

Izzie Kikue was born in Honolulu and raised in Kaneohe, Hawaii. She now resides with her ohana several minutes southeast of Atlanta, Georgia. Her career has involved being Director of Ministries and a Certified Biblical/Pastoral Counselor for a large Christian Ministry in Southern California and later in Georgia. With a Th.D. (Dr./Theology), she devoted much of her time and energy traveling to third world countries offering physical and spiritual aide to people who needed assistance due to war situations and other misfortunes. Izzie is currently taking a breather from overseas travels and is now focusing her time and energy on her nani daughter, as well as "Bringing Aloha to the Internet" as AlohaWorld's co-owner and host.

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Written by Kamaka Brown

I think maybe ten.  Yeah, ten years old I was at the time.  No can remember really good cuz', I was, um ... TEN I told you!! Eh, you gotta pay attention! We was living Lusitana Street, Punchbowl side above the Board of Water Supply. We was renting one small duplex from one Portagee man who lived in da big house that you had to pass to get to our place.  His tutu was always on the front porch in her rocking chair waving when we pass. "Aloha, Tutu" we would always say as we walked by with the grocery bags from G.E.M. store.  She would wave and give us a toothless grin.

In front of our place was one nuddah big house.  One Japanee family lived there.  I think had about tree or fo' kids.  One kid was my age.  Small Ray had da kine pomade slick back hair.  Him and me was ace mango tree climbers.  Summer time if we neva go down Tutuman's house in Waimea, me and Small Ray would spend the days building one treehouse in the mango tree.  Ok, not one real treehouse like you see in the movies.  Ours was more like one semi-platform fo' stand, sit, sleep, jump from. Gotta watch for da splinters and nails sticking up. I tink us guyz when deplete the bandaid supply in both our houses summer time.

We neva did see Small Ray's dad up in the daytime.  Ok, only once in a while we saw Big Ray.  One time I saw him taking out the trash early in the morning when Small Ray and me was walking to school. Small Ray said: "Oh shit, I forgot to take out the trash. Today is rubbish day."  When me and Small Ray got to the street, Big Ray was pushing some newspapers down in the galvanize rubbish can with his hands. "Ray-boy", Big Ray said, "You and me going round and round when you come home from school." I knew what that meant.  "You know today is rubbish day, boy.  You guyz only get play on your mind." Big Ray turned his back on us and walked off in a huff.

That was really the first time I got a good look at Big Ray.  You see, you would never see him around in the daytime.  His skin was pale white for one Japanee guy and he was big.  Look like he work out because he had broad shoulders and a bulky muscular body.  He work dark glasses and had his hair slicked back like Small Ray except he had it long in da back tied in one pony tail.  I was scaid of Big Ray.  Oh yeah, Big Ray had couple tattoos on his biceps and neck.  Was Japanee writing and one samurai fightah with one sword tattoo on his forearm.  I never like be on da bad side of Big Ray.

Aftah school was homework time.  I was desperately trying to master the art of fractions and percentages on the back porch when I heard someone playing a saxophone.  Mello kine.  Jazz kine.  Cool kine.  Smooth kine.  Sexy kine.  Hoo I liked it right away.  Who ewa was playing, was playing to one record cuz' I could hear the drums and piano in the background. The saxophone music was live but.  I went insai the house and looked out the bedroom window in the direction of the music.  It was coming from Small Ray's house.

Next day was Saturday no mo' school.  I stay raking leaves around the mango tree cuz'  "no can play until all the leaves stay raked" was da rule!  I stay looking up the mango tree wishing all the leaves fall down already so no mo' fall down.  Small Ray come out his house from the back with the screen door slamming.

"Eh," he go, "I gotta go shopping with my muddah. She sed if your muddah sed ok, you can come with us."

"Nah, no can, " I go, "gotta help my fuddah clean car."

"K'den" Small Ray go, "bumbye den."  And he was gone.

Finally in the late afternoon, I stay in the "tree house" making believe get Indians attacking da fort and I hear the music again.  Dis time I climb down and sneak ova by Small Ray's house.  I go by the back screen door and peek insai their kitchen.  I smell rice cooking.  Can tell eh, when get rice cooking?

I see sitting at the kitchen table, Big Ray with his dark glasses on and pony tail.  He has leather cross-the-toe slippahz on and his foot is tapping to the music. He get one white undershirt on and his back is to me.  The music is playing loud.  I can hear the brushes on the snare drum.  The piano is playing the melody.  Big Ray puts the saxophone to his mouth and waits. Just when the piano part pauses Big Ray begins to blow.  Oooooh  man, what sweet sounds he makes.

I am hypnotized by the music.  It's got me by the hand and leading me to Birdland with Charlie Parker.  It's Sonny Rollins rising up from New York's Greenwich Village basement jazz clubs.   John Coltrane with the Miles Davis Quintet blowing hot and cool at the same time.  And Big Ray is nodding his head and moving with the flow of the music.

"Eh, Boy-san," Big Ray says, turning around and looking at me through those pitch black sunglasses.  I freak.  I am about to take off running when Big Ray opens the screen door and sez, "come in sai, Boy-san, you like jazz?"

"Um, I dunno," I stammer.

"You like dis music, boy-san?" Big Ray asks.

"Yeah, it's cool" I smile.

"Den, you like jazz, boy-san." Big Ray smiles a toothy smile and picks up his horn just at the right spot on the record and blows right on cue.  I stand inside the kitchen door taking it all in.

I hear the car door slam outside and Small Ray and his muddah come walking up the sidewalk to the house.  They have shopping bags from Benjamin Franklin and Kress Store.  Small Ray is surprised to see me in his kitchen. "Small Ray! Get Boy-san some juice."  Small Ray take a glass pitcher from the icebox and pours me a glass strawberry Kool-aid.

"Honey, the music too loud," Small Ray's muddah is saying walking into the other room to turn down the Hi Fi.

"Ehh," Big Ray throws his hands up and walks out of the kitchen into the palor.  I hear the front door slam and Big Ray is walking down the sidewalk to the street.

Small Ray looks at me sheepishly. "My dad works nights playing music in Chinatown. He says he has to practice playing. My mom says it boddahs the neighbors."

"Small Ray, you gotta be kidding! I neva know your dad plays the sax. That's so cool." I say making one strawberry Koolaid mustache on my upper lip.

Truth of the matter was that everyone was wary of Big Ray and no one would complain.  The neighbors didn't know quite what to make of him.  He was kind of a "mystery" neighbor you didn't see up and around.  Now I knew why.  Big Ray slept all day, practiced his music in the late afternoon and worked all night until the wee hours of the morning at dance halls in Chinatown.

When I told my dad about it, he smiled knowingly.  Although, my mom was hesitant when she found out what Big Ray did for a living, my dad being a guitar player himself, understood.  "You like play the sax too?" He asked.  He went into the garage and pulled a dusty black case from a shelf.  When I popped the suitcase type latches and opened the case, I saw it.  A tenor Selmer sax in a worn musty purple velvet lined case.  "I used to play a little bit when I was younger," daddy sed, "you can use this if you want to play. Eh, maybe Big Ray will teach you."

That began my Saturday afternoon music lessons with Big Ray.  He took me down Chinatown to Sharps and Flats music store to buy my first reed.  He showed me how to soften the reed with saliva and place it in the clamps of the mouthpiece.  I looked forward to my one-hour music lesson each Saturday with Big Ray.  I learned to hold "my ax" properly and how to use my thumb to play an octave up.  Most of all, I learned how to open the valves to let the spit drain out of the chamber!!

We moved back to the country that summer and I lost touch with Small Ray and his family.  A young man's fascination with the horn turned to other interests.  The sax went back into the case and in one storage shed out back.

The music of the jazz masters of the late 50's and 60's still echoes in my head.  Whenever I hear the mournful sounds of a tenor sax, I recall my dad's saxophone and music lessons from Big Ray in his kitchen on Lusitana Street.

Kamaka Brown is AlohaWorld's roving ambassador and resident comic hosting "Kamaka Brown's KanakAttack" comedy page on AW.  He is a professional comic entertaining West Coast, Vegas and Hawaii audiences in clubs and concert venues.

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Written by Izzie Kikue

User Rating: 5 / 5

A lot of us brought up on the islands have fond memories of swimming, body surfing, and perhaps even surfing the wild, wild surf dat our islands are famous fo. Well, here is one hannabuddah story dat some of you may be able to relate to. Read through dis and let yo'wah own memories pour through about da good ole days of da surf in Hawai'i nei.

One yeeah, my grilfriend from da mainland we go come to Hawai'i fo' vacation. I wen go take her riding around da island fo' show her around wit few uddah peoples. She neva been to Hawai'i befo, so was one real treat fo' her. Every place I wen go take her, her eyes was popping out of their sockets, cause to her, Hawai'i was so NANI!!! What you es'speck? .... she stay from Southern California. She said da beaches wea she stay from, no could compare to how nani ow'ah beaches stay.

Anyway, on our long list of places to see, we went to spend da day at Waimea Bay... Bugah was averaging breaks of 6 feet and had plenny body surfahs out taking advantage of da almost perfect sets coming in on shore! Even wit six feet sets you could feel da explosions on da beach wen da waves made contact on shore. KaBooom!! Rumble, rumble, rumble.

Anyway, fo' doze of you who like da waddah and no can resist getting wet, yeah?... You must know how it is to play in da "white waddah"!! It is so much "good fun" to wait fo da wave to break and den wen da white waddah roll in, da buggah knock you off yo' feets and make you fall on yo'wah okoles! WAM,and Splish Splash, you go rolling up wit da wave on shore, and den da back wash would turn and start pulling you into da ocean like one Giant Octopus tentacles wrapped around all portions of yo'wah body. Whooohooo, sum'times hahd fo break loose from its grips and it pulls you right undah in da deepah paht of itself, yeah? Ho, da good fun!

Anyway, my girfriend no could swim good... but she was playing in da waddah way on da far RIGHT side of da bay, facing da beach.... And fo' doze of you familiar wit Waimea Bay, get one small pond/lake directly opposite of da ocean, yeah? Anyway... had one HUGE set coming in right about da time me and her was just about ready to fall off of dat "shelf" into da deep paht... so, of course da "suction" of da waddah was STRONG trying fo pull us out... She stahted fo' panic... so I wen grab per arm and push her infront of me and yell fo' sum'body fo' help pull her out. Good ting she wen get help jahs in time, and was pulled to shallower waddah so she could get one foot hold.... Me? Well, was one uddah story.

Wen she was on safe ground, I wen try fo get myself to da safe zone but, auwe, was too late fo me. I wen turn around and I wen spock three BIG Bumbucha waves on it's way toward da shore!!! Ho, I knew I was eiddah going EAT sand, or end up WAY, WAY, WAY ou'sai in da deep blues! Da uddah paht of me wanted to head fo' shore, but I no could! I was caught right in da middo wit da RIP pulling me toward dat 1st massive wall of waddah coming fass!

Abandoning da idea of scrambling fo da beach, I wen swim as fass as I could TOWARD dat wave..... and wen I got close, I wen dive, down.... down... down... Eh.. I couldn't BELIEVE how deep I had to go to escape da top paht of dat wave!!! Usually, wen I used to body surf out Makapu and Sandy Beach sai, no need have to dive DAT DEEP down to get away from one wave, but, eh.... was unrealz how fa' down I had to go dis time!!!

Finally wen I feel da wave pass. I went staht swim up, up, up to get some air. Whoohoo!! feel so good to feel da wind hit my face and da oxygen fill my lungs! But was oni one BRIEF relief, cause I wen spock dat da 2nd Bumbucha wave was moving closah and I felt da grip around my body pulling me into it..... K den, goddah DIVE AGAIN!!! Deep, deep, deep. Dis time I wen watch da buggah pass me above. WhooHoo dat buggah was so WIDE and FAT! Massive Base! And I was beneath it watching in awe. Das wen I wen remembah... AIR!

At da surface, I had to hana hou! Da 3rd wave was trying to scoop me up so I dove away from da critical paht wea da buggah tried to take me prisoner! I could feel da buggah jahs miss my feets! Eh, I was doing all dis swimming wit/out FINS!!! Talk about good work out! My legs was like rubbah already cause I was so out of shape!

Anyway, by da time doze three waves wen pass and explode on shore and I wen pop back up to da surface to drink in some air... Wow, lau lau... I was FAR out dea! No ways could I go back to shore wea I wen go get sucked out from. Rip tide and unda-tow was too fierce! I had to swim even litto bit mo' out and go left to wea all da body surfahs was. OOOooo, dark waddah undah me and no fins on my feets! Das e'nuff to give you bad dreams at nite. I was swimming parallel da beach going left listening to da "shark song" in my head... "Da dant, Da dant, Da dant... Dooo da doooo"!!!

K den... Now comes da BAD PAHT!! What? You thought da worse was ova? No, no, no!!! All of dat, to get to DIS!! Da WORSE teeng dat wen happenen.....

I wen jahs swim to da place wea all da guys was body surfing. Had Uka Peoples on da beach "watching" da ocean cause was one BIG day. I was still far out and had to swim toward da shore to get to wea da body surfahs was. Hea, da nightmare paht of dis experience....

I was exhausted and ready to pau hana... My arms was soa, my legs was rubbah and felt like I neva had any strength left to make it in shore cause I neva have any fins!!! But what??? Here comes one LIFEGUARD!!!! Sheesh! I felt like da whole WORLD was watching at dat moment. In his hand he wanted to know if I needed to hang onto his floatah. Dat florescent billboard that advertises "RESCUE CASE", if you happened to be holding onto one of doze....

I thanked him and told him.... "no need". Of course he said, "You shuah??" And of course, out of sheer embarrassment, I wen say, "I shua as shua can be". But in actuality, I was almost mah'ke!!! I felt like I was close, anyway. But I would have been humiliated if dat lifeguard had to haul me in. I could just have imagened it as me being dragged up out of da waddah by this guy, dumped on da beach fo' everyone to gawk at and point their skinny, scraggly fingahs at me, snickering. Would I EVER be able to live it down? I no teenks so... I raddah take my chances and be eiddah eaten by da great Mako shark, or drown... but NEVAH have to be dragged in by one lifeguard!

Den here comes one of da guys dat came wit us to da beach dat day... swimming out with FINS!!! Whooohooo! He finally reached me. He wen ask ... "You okay?" "Yup", I said.... And den he wen toss me my DuckFeet Fins. Da fins to me at dat moment was like one big ship stopping by to pick up one stranded person on one life raft who was stuck out at sea fo' one month. Life Savah!

I told da lifeguard.. "I get em, now" waving my fins in da air at him. Den bote dem guys wen leave me to fend fo' myself once again. Took me all my strength and courage fo' NOT to yell after dem and say... "Yeah, yeah.. I give up! Tow me in!!!" Gaaahh! But but I neva. Dat pride can sink you everytime, yeah?

Eventually, after allowing a few sets past, I found the opportunity to ride a couple small time waves in to da shore. Bumped my okole on da sand and scraped my knee on da landing, but my feets wen touch sand and I was home free. Of course I wen ack like nuttin out of da ordinary wen happen and wit one smile on my face I peeled off my fins and stood up, trying not to wobble too much on da two rubbah legs undah-neet me. I wen walk past dis one guy who had one smile on his face and he wen say.... "Eh, teedah.... was one trip, eh?" And I wen look at dat buggah, smile back and give him couple lifted eyebrows and a nod of da head and wen say, "Yeah, but I wen make'em"....

Yeah, I wen make 'em. And da "Shaka sign" I wen shoot out to dat guy sitting on dat beach dat day was one VICTORY SHAKA!!! Da same kind shaka all da guys wen give wen dey wen conquer WAIMEA BAY wen da teeng breaks 20 plus feet and dey come out of da wadda carrying their surf boards unda dea arms waving their "shaka signs" above their heads! Eh, fo' dat split second... I wen know how dat feels, even doe da waves I wen had to battle dat day couldn't have been ova 7 feet... But to me... I wen ride da "WILD SURF" on dat Day! I wen conquer Waimea Bay!

Moral of da story... Don't EVAH fo'get yo'wah FINS wen da surf stay breaking big! You may have to hitch one ride on one orange floatah and experience humility da hahd way!

Izzie Kikue was born in Honolulu and raised in Kaneohe, Hawaii. She now resides with her ohana several minutes southeast of Atlanta, Georgia. Her career had her be involved as assistant Director of Ministries and a Certified Biblical/Pastoral Counselor for a large Christian Ministry in Southern California and later in Georgia. With a Th.D. (Dr./Theology), she devoted much of her time and energy traveling to third world countries offering physical and spiritual aide to people who needed assistance due to war situations and other misfortunes. Izzie is currently taking a breather from overseas travels and is now focusing her time and energy on her nani daughter, as well as "Bringing Aloha to the Internet" as AlohaWorld*s co-owner and host on a mission to promote Aloha in Action.

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Written by Byron Bader

User Rating: 5 / 5

I guess I must have been about 8 and my brother 11 when we got into this adventure.  The Honolulu zoo didn't have a fence around it in the late 1940's and where the current parking lot is located, there was just a long open red dirt area lined with sugar date trees.  A stream ran perpendicular through the middle of the zoo and emptied into a pond area, which in turn, entered into the storm drain tunnel under Kapahulu Ave.  My brother loved to try to catch the small fish in this pond (it was a swamp to me) and did so with minimal success.  My dad use to call him a "murderer" when he brought home his baby fish catch!

One day, he decided "we" should explore the tunnel that the pond flowed into.  No way was I going in there because standing at the entrance and looking inside, it was pitch black.  My brother did his "thing" and sweet-talked me into the idea.  He had a great plan!  We used a sheet of corrugated iron roof as the hull of a boat, nailed the bow and stern sheet ends to some 2 x 4 wood post pieces, melted some tar to seal the gaps to prevent leaks and ..."voila!" we had our own home made "Hokule'a".

Well, we built that puppy in our backyard on Kuhio Ave. When completed, we carried it out of the yard, down Kuhio Ave, across Kapahulu Ave. and launched it in the zoo pond.  I have yet to figure out why it didn't capsize without an auma or outrigger but at least it floated.  To provide light in the darkness of the tunnel we brought a candle and set it up on the 2 x 4 wood post bow.  With our hearts pounding and mosquitoes making a picnic lunch out of me, we got in the boat and paddled with our hands into the "black unknown".  We had no idea how deep the water was and I sure as hell wasn't about to stick my hand in the water to test the depth.  What if one "troll" bit it off?  Our dog "Butch" was left at the entrance barking his fool head off as we started our journey into the tunnel.

We slowly moved into the tunnel and we lit the candle on the bow so we could see where we were going.  We quit trying to paddle with our hands and just propelled ourselves slowly along the tunnel by pushing on the slimy walls.  We finally made it to the intersection where it tied into the Kapahulu Ave. storm drain tunnel.  The storm drain tunnel was a little bigger but still a spooky, damp, place.  Ahead we could see filtered light being allowed in from the ceiling of the tunnel.  When we got directly underneath of the light source, it turned out to be a manhole cover in the middle of the street.  My brother had another idea.  Why not call out to the dog to see if he can find us...sorta like hide and seek with our dog, Butch.  We started calling him and by golly he found us and was barking excitedly over the manhole cover...in the middle of the street!!  We kept this up for the next 2 manhole covers and by golly, that dog was following us, from cover to cover, running down the middle of the street.  Cars must have been cussing our dog out but somehow he avoided being hit and didn't cause any traffic accident.

I have to stop here to explain something.  We knew that the tunnel emptied into the ocean at the foot of Kapahulu and Kalakaua Aves.  In the late '1940's there were no beaches along Kalakaua between Ohua Ave. and the start of Monsarrat Ave.  There were just big black boulders along the entire length of the wall.  After a big rainstorm, the tunnel discharged ground runoff and street rainwater into the ocean polluting a major portion of the existing Waikiki swimming areas.  Conversely, when we had Kona weather and the ocean was rough, waves actually entered the tunnel and pushed ocean water back a fair distance up Kapahulu until it dissipated.  When this happened, the air pressure and water would blow the manhole covers off and ocean water would spout up and onto the roadway above.  I actually saw it happened one time and the HPD left the cover off and cordoned off the area to force motorists to go around it.  This seawater geyser scared the hell out of the locals driving along Kapahulu near the beach.  I assume a typical reaction was to hear a local exclaim..."Oh wow, bra, check da watah shooting out of da street like Mauna Loa!"  The City later constructed "The Wall" tunnel structure to extend the discharge of polluted water about 100 yds. farther out into the ocean AND prevent this backflow phenomenon.

Ok, back to da story.  Someplace along the way in the tunnel, the candle went "piu" on us because of the wind coming in from the beach side and our matches were all wet.  By then, we could see daylight in the far distance (beach end) and with hearts in our throats, continued forward by groping our way along the slimy wall that had all-kine bugs and crabs climbing that were probably saying..."eh, weah dese buggah's came from and what dey doing in our tunnel?"  My brother kept asking me to get out and see how deep the water was but no way was I going to stick my feet into that hapalaka, lepo, stagnant water.  I saw daylight and dat's what I was going for!

Meanwhile, back at our house, our mother was looking for us and must have walked over to the swamp to see if we were there because she knew that it was one of my brother's favorite fishing places and if she found him, she would find me.  While crossing Kapahulu, she noticed Butch running in the middle of the street barking excitedly at the manhole covers so she went to investigate and get him out of the street.  But then she heard us whistling and calling to him from the tunnel below and must have thought..."Oh my god, those two lolo's are in the tunnel and panic set in as she ran down to the beach to see if we would come out at the beach end opening.

As for the explorers below, we were so happy to see the entrance looming up and felt our confidence return like two conquering heroes returning from a successful voyage.  I guess we must have been cheering a lot (maybe doing our version of high fives?!) knowing we were the first to try this and could brag about it to our neighborhood friends.  We were dragging the boat out of the tunnel and were happy as a lark and began calling to our dog that was barking excitedly at us from the wall above.  Suddenly, a face popped up alongside the dog that we least expected... "Mom!"  You know, I don't quite remember what she said but the facial expressions and obscenities that poured from her mouth was obviously not a good sign of what was ahead.  We most naturally left the canoe there and scrambled up the wall knowing we were walking into a guaranteed onslaught of punishment.  First words out of my mother's mouth were...."you lolo kids, gunfunnit, what a stupid thing to do! You know you could have drowned down there and no one would have found your bodies until the storm season emptied the tunnel out..."COME HERE!!"

At this time, I must point out an observation that I became keenly aware of regarding angry mothers.  They can be pretty fast and accurate with their hands and somehow have eyes like radars that can track a child's moves to the "nth" degree.  On this day, our mother's natural kung-fu-like-ability was at an all time high.  Before we could make a move, she simultaneously grabbed both our ears in a death grip and marched us home along Kapahulu Ave. amidst all the snickering workers at Petrous Service station, which was then located on the corner of Kapahulu and Kalakaua.

How humiliating...two successful, Hawaiian, "tunnel faring" voyagers'....being treated like ... "KIDS!"

Byron was born and raised in Waikiki at the Kapahulu end of Kuhio Ave.  He attended Kamehameha first and then transferred to Punahou, graduating in '58.   He graduated in '61 from the California Maritime Academy in Vallejo, CA receiving a BS in Marine Engineering and Federal CG License for Third Asst. Engineer. He shipped out on merchant ships plying between South Pacific and Pacific Rim countries.

I came ashore to become a fire insurance engineer and traveled extensively within the NW, Canada and Alaska. I switched jobs again to become a mechanical engineer for the utility company in SF.

He took an early retirement in '93 because of company downsizing and actively pursued his love of playing music.

I am currently performing at a few Hawaiian restaurants in San Francisco area. I produced and released my first CD album ("First Break") in 2001 and hope to do another. I have two siblings residing on Oahu.  Both are Roosevelt grads ('55 & '59 respectively) and retired school teachers.  This story is dedicated to my bruddah, Paddy (Al), who was the instigator of this crazy escapade when we were "hanabuddah" keeds!!

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Written by Ronson Kamalii

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I was born and bred in Hilo, Hawaii. And like every other local kanaka, we would hear those stories about haunted places that you didn't think were quite true, but were too chicken to question it. Well, this is one of those instances where bravery (?) ruled out common sense....

Back in my teenage years, me and a couple of friends would always go down to the beach to kick back and enjoy the environment ... of course, also to drink some beer (legalities aside). Every once in a while, we would talk about local ghost stories (aside from 13 steps in Honolulu that I encountered... somebody threw a mannequin on the road just below a hill that the road went over...but that's another story...)

Anyhow, we started talking about a hospital that used to be at King's Landing up at the end of the beach road in Keaukaha .... that it was washed out by a tidal wave and that at times you could hear the voices of the dead that used to be patients at this hospital, mainly baby cries from the maternity ward.

Now King's Landing is a great fishing spot, and with the action of the waves crashing against the rocks, one could envision a tsunami taking out the whole area. So we decided to return to King's Landing just before midnight, to see if the stories are true. I guess amplification of astral voices are better at midnight, eh?

So here we are, it's fifteen minutes to midnight, and there's four guys sitting in a little Toyota Celica, under a tree, waiting for the witching hour to arrive.

We were all joking to each other prior to midnight, trying to scare each other prematurely. As midnight arrived, we sat dead silence, ears acutely tuned to any audible sound that night. It was unusually quiet that night, the waves seem to be distant sounds compared to the concentrated quiet inside that vehicle (mind you, we had the windows up, we ain't that crazy, you know!!).

As we counted off the chimes of the witching hour, just as the tenth chime went off, a cat landed square on the hood of the car, about a foot away from the windshield!!! If you ever seen teenagers scream in fright before, its not a pretty sight!!

I was very surprised that my friend had to sense to start the car and high tail it out of there with the cat still on the hood!! We never did know what happened to that cat!! I think we used up kinda plenty of his nine lives!!

Well, when it was all said and done (and when we were well away from the area) we stopped at the Dairy queen down on Banyan drive (well, we wanted to be sure we were well away, if you know Hilo landmarks). We parked the car, and got out to stand around and look at each other, sizing-up each others bravado, and retelling what happened that night from 4 different versions.

My, what a life as a teenager in the little fishing village of Hilo.

Hilo born Ronson Kamalii (Hilo High '80) now resides in Brandenton, Florida. After 9 years in the U.S. Army he achieved a Bachelors degree in Environmental Science. He is licensed by the state of Florida for the Operation of Drinking Water Treatment Plants. He works at a Reverse Osmosis Plant for the city of Sarasota, Florida. He's single and enjoys fishing, racquetball, and reading techno-thrillers. His next trip home will be in the year 2000 to visit his ohana and attend his 20 year class reunion ! He doesn't think visiting King's Landing will be part of his itinerary!!

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Written by George K. Cabral

We wuz jus' da local kine keeds from Uleawa. I guess we wuz about 10 or 11 yea's old. I shua you seen us in da evenin' going home wit our homemade kine paipfo boards out of plywood, on da top of the rise by Uleawa beach park near da bathhouse.

Our paifo boards wuz made from jus one old piece of wood dat we would find somewhere in da bushes or up in da quarry. Eh we even wen use da kine 2x4's if we found em' on da beach if we neva have. Any kine fo' ride da surf. Yeah dat wuz us, all da little papaa skinney kine keeds at da beach. We wuz cool den. All freezin' headin' home but happy in our own way and glad to be livin' in Hawaii (even if we neva know dat at da time. It would come to us a lot later in life). But we were a bunch of skinny little kids going home in the dark with what gear we had at the moment.

All we really had was that board or just a pair of fins if we were lucky enough to own one. Sometimes only one fin was all we had. Most of us couldn't afford stuff' li'dat. More than likely we got those fins from the sea as it was washed up from some unlucky body surfer who had lost it catching a wave. If you did find em' afta losin' em' you wuz one lucky bugga cause most times you not goin' see em in da whitewash. Das da same way we got our slippa's too. It would get washed up on shore and we would pick em' up. As long as we get same size da color no matta. Most of us had two different color slippa's anyway but no shame.

Us keeds would play all day in da wata at Uleawa. So not only did Uleawa give us fun on the waves and sometimes something to eat (Opihi, Limu, fish or crabs) but it provided us wit some fins or rubba slippa's. Wat a deal ah.

Da paifo board could beused fo' one of two things. Can ride da waves or you can  da kine sand slide wit em'. Of course cannot sandslide if you get one skeg on em' We use to have good fun wit em'. Eh, no wonda we was all so skinney den. All dat exasize we got. Plus most of us keeds neva go home fo' lunch. Eh, neva had stuff like lunch fo' us. Back den kala was tight so fo' most of us keeds neva have lunch. We had fo' rely on our own way fo' eat if you hungry.

Going have to go fish from da ocean or look fo da kine empty kine return bottle so can turn em' in fo' couple cents and buy somethin' fo' eat.

Anyway as we heading home we'd stop at da Uleawa beach park (back den was only one Uleawa beach park, across from B&K store, now stay all the way to Maile. Progress ah.) and go showa unda da cold wata. Use to have plenty keawe trees back den and couple coconut trees too. Nowadays wea da keawe trees waz stay all gone. Dat wuz across from where Miles bakery stay now. Even dat wen move. Use to be down by Nakatani long time ago. Get little bit keawe hea an dea but back den was almost all keawe trees.

But anyway would always be one or two bars of soap dat somebody left at da showers outside. So we would clean up on da way home. Anadda great deal on da way home. Eh, save wata an soap. If we was lucky we had one towel fo' dry off. Or we share one towel for all us keeds. But most times neva have. Cannot jus' take em' from home li'dat. Gotta git permission first or you git lickins'. But most times we stay dry off by da time we git home.

By da time we get home whateva food stay left you know us skinney keeds goin' eat plenti'. Eh, my favorit wuz da pork' n beans wit slice kine hotdogs and da onions and of course da rice too. Hooo ... waz ono brah. Or even betta wuz wen Mom made da kine hambuger patti's in gravy wit rice. I stay hungri' awreadi man.

Das wuz da days. Wen da sun wuz warmer and da days longa an wuz good fun yah. Eh, cannot go back to those hanabuddah days but I still live em' in my mind. So wat, you like fo' go wit me look fo' fins or slippa'?

George K. Cabral was born in Wahiawa and raised in Nanakuli, Oahu, two blocks from B & K store. 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 as a Government employee for the Army in Bosnia with the Deployed Operations Group or DOG. He and his wife, Jutta have two daughters, 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, get that Aloha spirit, and maybe get new slippa's from Uleawa beach.

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Written by Scott Haililani Mahoney

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Anyone who grew up in Hawaii, certainly has heard of a little piece of paradise called Kalihi. It's a place where a lot of poor, hard working families raised some of Hawaii's most famous individuals. Kids that believed in themselves and went on to become governors, senators, lawyers and world class athletes, ran barefoot in Kalihi as youngsters. I grew up in Kalihi during the 1950's and 60's. It was a time in my life that I will forever be grateful. In those days, the only problem a kid like me had, was getting home after the street lights went on or not picking up all the fallen mangoes and putting it out before the rubbish man came on Fridays.

Yeah, those times sure were nice. It was a time that a lot of us still refer to as "Small Kid Time". In those days, the neighborhoods all seemed full of trees and big old yards that took forever to rake. Every kid in our neighborhood knew where all the delicious star fruit, mango, guava, cherry, avocado, tamarind and mountain apple trees were.

One day when I was about ten years old, my friends Johnny Judd, Pake, Poi and his sister Honey Girl and myself overheard some grown ups talking about their "good old days" and how they use to raid a lychee tree that was "the biggest lychee tree in the world".

They all laughed when they remembered the old Japanese man who would chase them around the tree. This legendary old tree was supposedly on a dirt road just in back of the old Sacred Hearts Academy School. Somehow, we decided to go searching for the great fruit tree and it was a day that I will never forget.

This tree was all the way across town and just getting there was an adventure in itself. With the little information and directions that we remembered, we navigated through new neighborhoods and unknown streets. After being chased by a dog , yelled at by people as we cut through their yards and taking a few dead ends, we finally came to the road. I still recall that the skies were a deep ocean blue and cloudless and that all of us were laughing and talking as we walked up that worn out road filled with potholes.

All of a sudden the sun disappeared from the sky and everyone became real quiet! The only thing you could hear was the wind blowing and our hearts pounding because before us, stood the greatest lychee tree that we had ever seen. The shade of the tree covered half the road and all of the owners house and yard. It was so thick with fruit and leaves that even grass couldn't grow beneath it. It's funny how people are but only the fruit over the road was picked as the rest of the fruit fell rotting in the yard. They tied paper bags around a lot of the bunches to keep them from falling but there was just too much to save. We couldn't believe the amount of juicy red fruit that hung from it's branches.

As we approached the gate, we decided on two things. First, was that one of us would ask for permission to pick some fruit, and second, that that person would be me because I could run the fastest. We figured with the ten thousand lychee rotting on the ground, the owners might be happy if we helped get rid of some of them. As I pushed open the creaky old gate I noticed all these small bells that were hanging from the branches of the tree and an old sign nailed to it that said "KAPU - NO PICK LYCHEE". There was also an old poi dog with one blind eye tied to the trunk of the tree. You would have thought that the dog was dead except for that one good eye that followed me as I walked up to the screened porch.

There in the corner of the the porch, was an old Japanese man sleeping on his rocking chair, next to a can of rocks. I couldn't figure out what the bells and the can of rocks were all about but it didn't matter when I saw how the elderly man was dressed.

The skinny gray man wore only his boxer shorts, a ragged under shirt, two rubber slippers that didn't match and an old aviators cap with goggles. We heard rumors that he was an old Kamikaze pilot that got lost during the attack on Pearl Harbor and felt it was his fault for Japan losing the war. I couldn't see his eyes because of his goggles but I knew he was asleep. His mouth was open and he was quietly snoring.

"Excuse me, papa san," I said after taking a few deep breaths, "can pick lychee?"

"Huh, who you?" he cried out as he awoke. "You go home before I give you licking! And you better run fast before I sic my dog on you!" The poor dog was too busy scratching for fleas.

"OK! OK!" I said . "I sorry for asking. I going so no get mad." As I walked out the gate I knew there was only one thing to do.

PLAN B! We tried to be nice but now we had to show him that we meant business and we didn't travel all this way to go home empty handed. What we didn't know was that, to the old man, the tree represented Japan and he was prepared to defend it with his life before he was going to give up a single juicy lychee.

Honey Girl and I looked out for the old pilot as Pake, Johnny Judd and Poi climbed over the wall. Cautiously stepping past the sleeping dog, they quickly scurried up the tree. They all grabbed the bottom of their shirts and put it in their mouths. This helped form a pocket to fill with fruit, so that they still had the use of both their hands to climb and pick.

Just as they crawled to different parts of the tree, a bell rang! And then another bell rang! And another! And another! Till all the bells in the tree were ringing out of control! Now I know what the bells were for and I was soon to find out what the can of rocks was doing on the porch.

The sound of the bells turned that scratching, wrinkly old dog into an attack trained monster! It was barking and growling and foaming at the mouth. It was also scratching huge grooves out of the trunk of the tree as it was trying to get to the boys high up in the branches.

Then leaping off the porch with his can of rocks, was the old Japanese man in his underwear, firing stones up into the tree. It sounded like Japanese but I think he was yelling "Get the hell outta hea!"

The size of the tree was so enormous that it's arms stretched far over the road. Like monkeys, the guys all headed for the end of the tree branches and jumped safely to the road. In their attempts to escape, all the lychee that they had picked fell in the yard. The old man and his dog stood victorious at the gate as we ran down the road, screaming and laughing at the same time. He had won the battle.

As we raced down the dirt road, we came to a river that we could not cross. This meant that we had to go back by the old man and his dog again. This also meant that the ancient warrior knew that we had headed down a dead end and that he would be prepared for a second attack. Cautiously we crept up to his part of the road and just as we were about to sprint past his house, we noticed two large bags filled with lychee sitting just outside his gate.

Stunned, we picked up the fruits and walked slowly towards home. Without saying a word, we all waved thanks and kept walking. As we looked back, we could see the dog still scratching and up on the porch was the old general.

A small smile came across his face. He had also won the war! Years later, after we all grew up and moved out of Kalihi, I decided to drive down the old road to see if the tree still stood as magnificent as it did when we were kids. I knew the old man and his dog were probably gone but when I got there, so was the house and the tree.

It's sad how time erases many of the precious things in our lives. That's why it's important to live your life as an adventure and treasure all your beautiful memories. For me and my friends, the lychee tree still stands... the dog still.

Scott Haililani Mahoney is a Kamehemeha School and University of Colorado graduate. Originally from Lanakila in Kalihi on Oahu, Scott writes small kid time stories for his father, who is also a writer. Scott now lives on Maui.

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