Wednesday's Rant

i considered not posting and just going to bed, but changed my mind. today was interesting. i hosted a bunch of students from barrow, alaska and their teachers. last week barrow had chilly -20 degree weather. today they were sweating in the heat. they took a tour of the hpu windward campus at hawaii loa, then met us at the downtown campus. afterwards i accompanied them to kaniakapupu and gave them a quick history of kamehameha the great's desire to become 'great' by taking, one by one, the different islands. when kamehameha came to oahu, he battled the chiefs from waikiki to the nuuanu pali, and warriors on both sides fell all along the battle lines to the final battle near the place now called 'pali lookout'. i had brought with me 14 pu ohe, made from bamboo gathered at kaniakapupu, kamehameha III's summer palace. the place is certainly a sacred place, and we acknowledged that saredness by offering oli and blowing on our pu, everyone at once, at the outer wall surrounding the house site. it was awesome to hear the different tones all at once.

the students took a little walking tour, learned a little bit of history. i shared only one story with them, which i'm writing about here, about one part of the site that was discovered perhaps ten years ago. a friend had asked me to accompany him to the platform that was uncovered during the UH summer archaeological field school at kaniakapupu. we went there in the evening, around 5 pm. we had gathered plants and flowers to offer as hookupu (offering) out of respect for those spirits and persons resident on the property. when we got there (it's just a short hike into the forest and up the trail, but you can't see anything at all from the road), we went over to the platform, just to the right of the main structure, and looked for a place to put the offering. we walked over, climbed up on the lower level over some rocks. i waited while he went to find a suitable place. he walked away from me and within a minute it became dark. i couldn't see him. but i could hear him chanting. we spoke to each other in the dark and he found his way over to me. it was pitch black. then we turned around the way we had come and began to inch our way back. couldn't see a thing. i thought we might trip over something if we didn't go slowly. all of a sudden there was a flash of light--perfectly round and clear--that illuminated the rock we stepped on coming in. so i put my foot on the rock where the light shone and then it was dark again. we stepped off the platform safely and walked back to the main structure, which was illuminated. the sun hadn't yet gone down, even though it was black in the area where we left the flowers. my friend commented on how lucky it was that i had brought my flashlight. i stated i didn't have a flashlight. moreover, i had left my backpack on the wall, next to where he left his. we walked over to the backpacks and turned to look at where we had been. it was still pitch black there. then we took off down the trail, heading back to the car.

none of the students made any comment. they just looked at me. so i asked them what they thought the point of the story might be and why i thought it might be important to relate. one young man said 'maybe they're still here. maybe they were happy to have a gift and were saying thank you.' i liked that answer. it reminded me that even though these students came from far away, experientially they weren't that far away. they could relate. calvin hoe came over and gave me a hug and honi and thanked me for the story. the same young man asked me why we did that--what did it mean to touch noses. i said that it was commonly done in the old days, and only recently has the practice come back into use. then he turned and asked his teacher, 'how did we use to do it before'? i was intrigued. i knew then, and i guess i always knew, that as a matter of fact, young people are always watching what older people are doing. and they're always watching to see if we're acting like idiots or fools; or maybe like role models with something to teach by our behavior, rather than with our words. the words can come after the action, for edification. for making sense. but the words all by themselves mean little.

my nephew, lono, was a man of action. and he was a man with an 'eye' for fish--a fish spotter, or kilo kilo. he could see schools of fish other people couldn't see. and when he spotted the fish, he became the best fisherman. i kinda think he also could spot a friend, and then became the best friend. i thought about all the stuff lono could have shared with these students, and with their teachers. he wouldn't have told a story with words, but with his hands--doing things, mending things, saying little but teaching much. i realize how far away i am from that way of story-telling and teaching. i rely on words. i'm over-educated.

how did we use to learn before? by watching and doing. no talking! pay attention! what has been the cost of relying less on language and more on action? today we have difficulty getting people to understand what we mean. if the only way to get an idea across is by using spoken words, then those of us who grew up in an earlier time are doomed. we can see how words become separators. no one is quite sure if the words they use are defined by those who hear them in the same way. are we talking about the same thing? can i just show you what i mean? and if i can just show you, then are we required to be in the same place at the same time so that i can, literally, show you? and with the advent of virtual space and the creation of virtual worlds that rely more and more on words, have we learned to ignore nuances that are created by the paralanguage of body movement or simply what we feel on our skin?

these students were great to be around. it was a privilege to interact with them, even if just for a short time. and even as i say that, i reflect on my own relationship with my nephew, lono nihoa. it was great to be around him, and a privilege to call him my nephew, my family. we had a lot more opportunity to learn each other without words. i learned him as a baby, and a toddler, and a child, and young man, and young husband, father, grandfather. i learned him and kept him in a safe and distant place. and then he left, and now i don't have the words to deal with the loss. i never had the words to deal with the life, so it's no surprise.

i gave him the only words i knew how, and that was in poetry.