Hele Mai - May 2018 by chasenuuhiwa

MAY - AUGUST 2018

hele mai THE MAGAZINE OF MAKANI KAI AIR

AUNTY KNOWS HER LIMU

MOLOKAâ&#x20AC;&#x2DC;IMADE BY THE VILLAGE POTTER

HELE MAI - MAKANI KAI AIR

Welcome to

Moloka‘i

We added another Grand Caravan to our Honolulu-Moloka‘i line in April to help ease your ability to get a seat, especially on busy weekends. We also intend to add two more aircraft later in the year to meet demand. We owe this expansion to you, our loyal passengers. Thank you for supporting us and allowing us to grow as a company. Together, we’re building something special in the way of air travel.

Richard Schuman Owner, Makani Kai Air

HAGADONE MEDIA GROUP | Publisher Kent Coules Creative Director Chase Nuuhiwa | Sales Director Norma Kamai | Editor Sarah Yamanaka Published by Hagadone Media Group 274 Puuhale Road, Suite 200, Honolulu, HI 96819 Phone: 808-843-6000 | Fax: 808-843-6090 From the Neighbor Islands: 1-800-232-2519 ©Copyright 2018 by Hagadone Hawaii Inc. All rights reserved which include the right to reproduce this publication or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

hele mai THE MAGAZINE OF MAKANI KAI AIR

table of

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MAKANI KAI ‘OHANA

FACES OF KALAUPAPA Hear the stories of Kalaupapa as shared by the people who live and work at this historic site

14 20 20

The faces of the Makani Kai Air family—you just might see them in the air or upon arrival!

AUNTY KNOWS HER LIMU A recognized limu ‘ele‘ele master and community volunteer, Vivian “Vani” Ainoa has much to share

THE VILLAGE POTTER Dan Potter creates one-of-akind, utilitarian pottery in his Moloka‘i studio

HELE MAI - MAKANI KAI AIR

Makani Kai Air’s ‘OHANA

K R I S TA’ S L I F E

by P.J. O’Reilley

Makani Kai Air’s Service Advisor is a hard working team leader helping to shape the airline’s future.

here’s a grease board in the reservations room at the Makani Kai Honolulu terminal that frequently bears inspirational messages. “They’re happy thoughts,” says Krista Slife, our Honolulu manager, author of those messages and herself a bundle of positive energy and goodwill. Those quips and quotes are evidence of a mindset focused on the upside of life. Krista, who hails from Oshkosh, Wisconsin, believes her austere childhood imbued her with character, “I know what sacrifice is. We used to shovel snow off our 800-foot driveway. My dad used to ride a motorcycle 40 miles to work in all weather … we earned what we had.” Which, she points out, added to her overall sense of gratitude and appreciation while growing up,

HELE MAI MAKANI KAI AIR May - August 2018

“It means more when you work for it.” Krista has aviation in her blood. Her dad worked for the FAA, her grandfather was a fighter pilot in WWII, and Krista herself took flying lessons. But she took a circuitous route to get where she is today. She worked for a big farm supply outfit in the Midwest for several years before earning her degree from Iowa State University and moving to Hawai‘i at the urging of a friend who happened to work for Schuman Carriage Motors. She took the job of Service Advisor at Schuman, which, when measured on the scale of customer appreciation, ranks somewhere between used car salesman and IRS auditor. “It’s tough to tell a customer

that a repair is going to cost $800 and the warranty won’t cover it. But automobiles are machines made by man, and even with good maintenance there are sometimes problems.” She went on to do the same job at BMW and Honda before coming to Makani Kai and her “dream job.” “The staff here is wonderful … I love ‘em. Everyone is their own person and they all pull their weight.” The only true challenge, she says, is “figuring out the cottonpickin’ schedule.” She has been pleasantly surprised at how gracious the people of Moloka‘i are, “Nine out of 10 of our customers are downhome and laid back, almost mid-Western in their easy-going attitude. Getting to know our customers has been an uplifting experience.” Krista also has similar sentiments about Richard Schuman, owner of Makani Kai, “He has such a heart for the Moloka‘i people … he wants the best for them. And that shows.” When she’s not checking in passengers and managing the workload, Krista enjoys the art of Swedish weaving, working for hours on intricate designs. There’s no loom necessary, just “A dining room table and a three-inch yarn needle.” She says it took about a decade to get good at the craft, “I started in my mid-

twenties making blankets for gifts. It can be incredibly satisfying to complete a piece,” which can take anywhere from 40 to well over 100 hours. She also is a big time Green Bay Packers fan, having been a Cheese Head since small kid time. A big thrill, then, was watching the ‘Pac play on the frozen tundra of Lambeau Field. It was a pre-season game, but what the hey? “My mom and I took a tour of the Packers facility and our guide was wearing a Super Bowl ring. ‘Is that real?’ I asked, and he said, ‘Uh huh. You wanna see it?’ and I said, ‘Uh huh.’” And that’s how she wound up with a Green Bay Super Bowl ring on her finger. Krista is also a huge fan of John Wayne, one her favorite movies of all time being The Quiet Man. The 1952 classic directed by John Ford also stars Maureen O’Hara and Barry Fitzgerald. The movie holds a special appeal for Krista, “Because of his (Wayne’s) quiet strength, the integrity of his character. To me, he was the epitome of a gentleman.” You can learn a lot about someone by finding out who they admire, who their heroes are. Krista exhibits the strength of her Midwestern roots and the integrity of her hero.

HELE MAI - MAKANI KAI AIR

Flight SCHEDULE We’ve got you coming and going!

Honolulu to Moloka‘i

Moloka‘i to Honolulu

Depart Honolulu

Depart Ho‘olehua

6:50 AM

7:45 AM

7:20 AM

8:15 AM

7:50 AM

8:45 AM

8:40 AM

9:35 AM

9:40 AM

10:35 AM

10:30 AM

11:30 AM

11:00 AM

11:25 PM

11:30 AM

11:55 PM

12:45 PM

12:25 PM

1:30 PM

1:45 PM

2:00 PM

2:25 PM

2:40 PM

2:55 PM

3:20 PM

3:45 PM

3:50 PM

4:45 PM

4:40 PM

5:35 PM

5:10 PM

6:05 PM

HELE MAI MAKANI KAI AIR May - August 2018

Maui to Moloka‘i

Moloka‘i to Maui

Depart Kahului

Depart Ho‘olehua

6:25 AM

7:10 AM

8:25 AM

9:20 AM

10:05 AM

10:55 AM

12:20 PM

1:05 PM

1:55 PM

2:50 PM

5:00 PM

5:40 PM

• There are more roundtrip flights between Moloka‘i and Honolulu every Friday and Sunday. Please check our complete schedule at www.MakaniKaiAir.com. • Flight times are subject to change • Flights to and from Kalaupapa vary according to the day of the week.

HELE MAI - MAKANI KAI AIR

faces of KALAUPAPA M E L I W A T A N U K I by Sarah Yamanaka

HELE MAI MAKANI KAI AIR May - August 2018

petite woman stands in the doorway to a beach house, welcoming us with kukui nut lei. It’s at this hale with jalousies open to the ocean breeze that we learn about Meli Watanuki after she grills us on what precisely this interview is for. Her tiny frame holds a feisty, resilient spirit and no nonsense attitude that have helped her find her place in this tiny community of Kalaupapa. Meli’s roots are in American Samoa where she was born and raised, and initially diagnosed with Hansen’s Disease at the age of 18 in 1952. At the time, people diagnosed with the disease were usually sent to Fiji for treatment, however, Meli says she and a small group of people were left in Samoa. “We were in the hospital, we’re all young,” says Meli. As the disease progressed, the physical condition of patients was often distressing, so younger people who had not developed to that stage were afraid. “And then us, we kind of back off—God forgive, those days, you know. After that we tried to get close to them because, we figure, we get good hands, good face, good body, but they all crooked mouth, any kind eye … you know, the hands, feet. The doctor said, ‘Don’t be afraid of others; they’re just like us.’ So after that, we all come together, yeah. We play music, do any kind.” In 1960, Meli traveled to Honolulu with a group of people. She had never been to Hawai‘i and instead of getting to enjoy her new surroundings, Meli was given the responsibility of taking care of the children by day and stayed in at night after dinner. She was unaware that her friends had made an arrangement. “They make me stay take care the kids, everybody out,” says Meli. “They fix me up with someone, this Filipino. This Filipino was 62, and when I come here, I was only 26. So I never know anything. Just like last week I came to Hawai‘i, and this week they want me to marry this man. I never meet any Filipino. In Samoa, they no more Filipino. So HELE MAI - MAKANI KAI AIR

I take care (the children) everyday, they all disappear; they say they go to work. But they go take care the stuff for the wedding.” While Meli sat outside one evening, an elderly neighbor said to her, “Tomorrow is your happy day; you going meet the young man.” Meli explains her friends had told the neighbor not to say anything. “What young man?” Meli had asked the neighbor. “But every evening when they come, when they pau what they do, I see this guy, this old man. They said, ‘This is our friend, yeah.’” An earlier blood test had been a precursor for obtaining a marriage license. Meli doesn’t say anything about her feelings, but her sense of sadness, of being alone and desperate, come through her tears as she shares her story. “Then they all came home in the evening and we all eat together,” she says. “And I just pretend I don’t know what is going on. Then I see inside my friend’s room; this gown is hanging in there. So I knew, already, something …” Meli explains she couldn’t sleep that night, so she got up and dressed herself at around

midnight, walking out of the house with no thought in her head except to get away. At about 1 a.m., one of the children woke up, saw her empty bed and started crying. Soon the parents arose and called the police. “They took me back to the police station,” explains Meli, holding back tears as she recalls wandering the neighborhood and being picked up by a patrol car. “I saw them (her friends) waiting for me. And then I just cried and cried, and told them I want to go back (home). I said, ‘You guys did this to me,’ but they never told me the truth. It’s okay if they tell me the truth; I have no choice. “They took me back, and the next day I got married. They gave me the (wedding) gown, and I went rip it up. And then after that, I wore my (regular) clothes. I married him.” For two months, Meli and her husband got to know one another while living apart. It was her resilience that made her to come to terms with the situation and she became determined to accept her new husband. Some time later, they had one child, a boy. Afterwards, she learned the truth about their marriage from her husband.

HELE MAI MAKANI KAI AIR May - August 2018

“… he told me he bought one car for them, a new car. And took them to … some kind of wrestling (match). He’s the one (who) sponsored them.” She said he had also lost money and that’s when the people she was with told him about Meli, who was young and single. “And that’s how I found out what happened,” she concludes. In 1964, Meli found what looked like a mosquito bite on her knee. She explained to the doctor that she had been sick in American Samoa and been treated there. However, after a biopsy was taken, she was quickly admitted to Hale Mohalu in Pearl City, set to undergo additional treatment. By this time, Promin had been in use for 23 years as a treatment, and no new patients were being sent to Kalaupapa unless they wanted to go. After Meli had been admitted, her husband had talked with a group of people outside the building and learned why patients were sent to Hale Mohalu. He then left Hawai‘i for good, taking their son with him to the Philippines without telling her. Prior to leaving American Samoa in 1960, Meli had met Pili, also a patient, who had left Samoa before her. He had promised to keep in touch and said he would pay her airfare to the Hawaiian Islands. “I told him, ‘Make sure you write me,’ recalls Meli. “I think only two letters I received. After that, no more. How many letters I sent him! Gunfunnit … you see what happened?” she exclaims with amusement. The next time Meli saw Pili was in Hale Mohalu. “He look at me, he say, ‘Oh, I with you again!’ says Meli. “I tell, ‘Wait — you married?’ And he say, ‘I never marry, I always wait for you!’” Meli responded, “But you never pay my fare. I gotta come with the wrong people!” As tragic as the situation had been, we laugh along with Meli at her recollection and her sense of humor. The two were married on October 1, 1969 after moving to Kalaupapa.

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HELE MAI - MAKANI KAI AIR

“ ... I think about what has happened up until today. And I try to be strong, to do things for the church ... I neva give up because I think that’s why it makes me still alive.”

“He was a good man,” says Meli. “He really respected all the people here in Kalaupapa; they always like him. He was the sheriff here … he died on June 28, 1981. He buried right down at Papaloa. He get his picture … face the road.” Meli met Randall in 1982, who had come to Kalaupapa in 1981 as an employee for the State Dept. of Health. After seeing each other for nearly a decade, she gave him an ultimatum. “I told him, ‘Either we marry or you go home. You go your own house.’” Ten years is a long time regardless of a woman’s age and Meli’s deep faith compelled her to make their relationship official in the eyes of God. She drew the line and Randall accepted. They were married on April 15, 1995, the same year that Father Damien was beatified. Meli’s story isn’t over yet. Unbeknownst to her, divine forces were at work.

HELE MAI MAKANI KAI AIR May - August 2018

Father Damien was beatified on June 4, 1995, and Meli, along with other patients, were to attend the event in Brussels, Belgium. Her husband would stay home to care for their dog. However, the Roman Catholic Bishop in Honolulu had called the Father at Kalaupapa to arrange for Randall to accompany Meli. Meli called Father to ask about this development in a roundabout manner. “Father, who went pay for his fare?” she asked. “‘This is from the Pope,’” was the reply. On departure day, reporters gathered round the patients to take photographs. Meli didn’t want her picture taken and upon seeing Father, told him so. He replied, “Don’t worry Meli. If they take your picture, you and Randall, it’s something …” “What something?” Meli had asked. “Please Father, tell me now. I wanna know. Don’t hide anything from me!”

Ghost, Meli and Randall’s number one “daughter”; they have three other furballs at home

Meli says a reporter came by and said, “You know why? All the reporters know already. You and Randall are going to receive the relics from the Pope.” “So I said, ‘Okay, I going shut up then.’” Just before the beatification ceremony, another miracle took place — Meli met Mother Teresa. Randall shares the details of how this pleasant and unexpected moment took place. He said it was during the procession in which some chosen faithful from different congregations throughout Hawai‘i and Belgium presented gifts to Pope John Paul II. When the procession drew near the stage, Mother Teresa and her party intercepted, stopped and greeted the gift givers from Kalaupapa that included Ku‘ulei Bell (who presented a flower lei) and Meli (scroll of prayers from parishes across Hawai‘i). “… they (Mother Teresa and sisters) all touched my shoulder,” says Meli softly. “And then they come to me, say hello. And then she hold my hand, kiss my hand, and I kiss her hand, and I kneel down. And I told her, ‘Mother Teresa, please, pray for all Hawai‘i. Pray for all the sick people in Hawai‘i. And pray for us in Kalaupapa, and pray for my family.’ And then I just put my head like this (looking down), and she said, ‘My child. Okay, I will.’ And I just cry.” Meli sheds tears recalling this truly special moment. Then it was time to receive Damien’s relics from Pope John Paul II. Randall says that it was Father Bukoski, Senior Rose Henry Reeves, Meli and himself who received the relic laid in a koa reliquary (a container for

holy relics) that had been specially made by Sam Kamaka. The relics were, in essence, the bones of Damien’s right hand, which were later reinterred in his original grave at Kalawao next to St. Philomena Church. “We go up, time for us bring our gift to him (Pope John Paul II),” shares Meli. “It was pouring rain, pouring rain. They went carry the koa, the relic, and me and Randall went stand. They were blessing the relic, and then one of the cardinal told Randall to put his hand on top, and put my hand, and put his hand, and he prayed all over us. It was a really marvelous thing happen. “You know, it’s really until today, I cannot forget. And that’s why they make me strong. And I think about what I went go through and my cancer, and I think about what has happened up until today. And I try be strong, to do things for the church … Every mass I go Kalawao, I take the stuff for the service. I no give up. I neva give up because I think that’s why it makes me still alive.” Meli and her husband were also fortunate to attend Father Damien’s canonization in 2009 at the Vatican, as well as Mother Marianne’s canonization in 2012. Meli has lived a life of hardships and disappointments, and embraced them with tenacity, resilience and a sense of humor. Now in her 80s, she still works part time for the National Park Service at the store. She’s called Kalaupapa home for 49 years now, and it’s here that she’s found peace and contentment, continuing to live a life committed to her faith in God.

HELE MAI - MAKANI KAI AIR

AUNTY KNOWS HER

limu by Sarah Yamanaka

Vivian “Vani” Ainoa is a busy woman, passing her knowledge of limu to those who are eager to learn

HELE MAI MAKANI KAI AIR May - August 2018

Limu ‘ele‘ele grows in brackish water in Aunty’s backyard

aster limu ‘ele‘ele preparer, community volunteer and entrepreneur Vivian “Vani” Ainoa bubbles with charm, charisma and positivity. We find her seated in her backyard at a table beneath the shade of 54-year-old milo trees located just a few feet from the shoreline. “Come here, come join us!” she calls out, waving us over to join herself and Zulean, a volunteer intern from Ka Honua Momona, with whom Aunty Vani is discussing the program for the organization’s monthly Community Work Day. We’re welcomed with warm hugs and kisses and an invitation to sit down and be comfortable. Surrounded by nature, Aunty shares her story about growing up on Moloka‘i, a life that she describes as hard, but which illustrates her initiative to create a life for herself. She lived on the east end where she had to hitch a ride in to school since there was no bus, and did this up until 10th grade at Kilohana, then to Ho‘olehua for high school. “… I really wanted to finish school because my other siblings they never finish school,” says Aunty Vani. At age 16 she started work at the old Midnight Inn in Kaunakakai so she could earn money and continue going to school. She lived with the owner as a companion and gained experience in the work world. Always within a 10-mile radius for most of her youth, she went on to work in the pineapple field and

even helped build Kualapu‘u Reservoir. After getting married, Aunty lived with her husband on O‘ahu so they could be close to his family. Living in a busy metropolitan area with three children for three years, and loving it, Aunty wasn’t happy to hear her husband come home one day to say they were moving back to Moloka‘i. “‘Noooo,’ I said, ‘Why you taking me back to this rock?’ So we moved back here; I didn’t want to,” she says with great emphasis, “but my children, they all thanked me for raising them here! I had four boys and one girl. And they’re all thankful that we moved here. Because they know how to live, you know, they can go hunt, they can fish, so it turned out real well. Now, you tell me move — NO WAY!” she stresses with a spurt of bubbly laughter. After returning to Moloka‘i, her husband worked for his aunt who had a service station and furniture and appliance store, which the couple eventually inherited. “The experience of going traveling, doing marketing, and then, um, how I introduced video to the island ...” says Aunty. “You know, because we never had video, movies and stuff like that, we never had a theater.” Word is, she had attended a conference and became associated with a man who had a video business. As Aunty tells it, he gave her a proposition, “I’ll send you videos providing HELE MAI - MAKANI KAI AIR

“It’s so important that they (youths) learn how to do things and give. You know, share it,” says Aunty Vani. “I feel when you give, you have more.”

you give me half of the profits.” So Aunty agreed and the movies were a hit showing in the furniture store. “Afterwards, I told my friend — he had a plane — ‘Can you take me to Lana‘i?’ He asked, ‘For what?’ I said, ‘Cuz I gon take some movies ova dea!’” Another entrepreneurial success. After focusing on the thriving business that Aunty and her husband had come to love for 34 years, the couple retired. They were awarded their Hawaiian Homestead land in 1964. “You know, when my husband went pick this lot, everybody thought he was crazy because this was one stream,” says Aunty. With the help of a friend’s crusher, they crushed huge boulders to fill the stream and covered it. After the first rain, gravity carried the rainwater down from the mountain, so her husband diverted it. It left rocks in the ocean shallows that the limu eventually grew on. Aunty also

noticed her cats would stand on a rock and drink water along the shoreline. She realized fresh water was running into the ocean, which the cats drank, as well as caused the limu ‘ele‘ele to grow. “The (limu) spores are all floating around (in the ocean),” she explains, “it’s just ready to go on a rock.” So when her grandson had thrown a chunk of concrete on the beach, it was only a few days later that he called tutu to show her the limu had taken root. There are different types of limu throughout Hawai‘i, even different textures of ‘ele‘ele explains Aunty. “Get curly kine, some are smooth, some just float on the top (of the water). I went to one place where the limu, when it’s high tide, it’s the best time to go pick because they all floating up. It’s long and different, and it’s tedious to clean. All you do is grab ‘em like this and pull, pull. This one I get (in the backyard) all clings to the rock. But this other place, there’s all different ways of identifying the ‘ele‘ele.” She adds, “ … some get rough water, like where Mac (Poepoe, Native Hawaiian fisherman and caretaker of marine resources on the island’s east side whom we interviewed in our July 2016 issue) lives, yeah. There is mostly limu kohu. And I think līpoa is that side cuz it’s rough water. Ours, we have līpe‘epe‘e, and then limu ‘ele‘ele, I have limu wawae‘iole, the one that looks like rat feet, but it tastes like the limu ‘ele‘ele, it grows all over here. I’m pretty fortunate.” Limu has been a part of the Hawaiian diet for hundreds of years and continues to play a part in contemporary cultural dishes such in a variety of poke, traditional Japanese miso soup and so much more. Unfortunately, it’s becoming difficult to find due to over picking, pollution and destruction of watersheds. There is also the threat of invasive species. Limu grow best in brackish water where fresh water meets the sea. Aunty says she wasn’t interested in limu until she was older. As a child, she used to watch her mom preparing it. “I remember how she did it; it was tedious. Hours and hours in the hot

HELE MAI MAKANI KAI AIR May - August 2018

sun! But I have a better method. My method is pick up, rinse all the sand out through the colander and then I look through it in the sun, find whatever is no good. And then once it’s clean, you gonna see the water clean. The-e-en I would rub it and get all that silky.” I ask if she has some secret recipe, remembering how my mom used to pickle the ogo we used to collect on the beach on the ‘Ewa side of O‘ahu so long ago. “There is no recipe,” she says, looking moderately surprised. “You just prepare it! After I pau scrub all that and make ‘um real smooth, then I salt ‘um with water. Put it in bottles or containers, then just let it sit one day. Next day you eat it!” I mention the fact that I hadn’t realized how many native limu there are. “Talk about native — talk about invasive!” exclaims Aunty. “We don’t want those invasive ones! I just wish people would have more contests, to have a competition where people would make something out of it (invasive limu). I told Noe

(Noelani Yamashita, executive director of Ka Honua Momona Intl.), I would love to see us get a recycle place where we can have people gather it, bring it and we could recycle it for maybe mulch or some kind of fertilizer.” It’s a brilliant idea. “You know, it would be something that we can kind of deplete these things,” she continues. “Because these things grow! If it’s dry like that and goes back in the ocean, it’ll grow! It’s terrible … they just come back alive once it goes back in the water! It’s interesting you know.” As part of giving back to the community, Aunty Vani wants to teach the younger generation about the Hawaiian culture and how to give back. It’s her priority. She’s had children from different schools come to Ali‘i Fishpond and learn about limu ‘ele‘ele. With a contented smile she says she takes them to the pond, shows them what it looks like on the rock, how to pluck it, how to go through it and clean it. “It’s so important that they know the right way, yeah.”

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“When I was in my prime, everyday I would be down at the ocean out there, looking for different kind of limu.”

Limu pālahalaha

To Aunty, of much more significance than learning to pick and prepare the limu, is the practice of sharing. “It’s so important that they learn how to do things and give. You know, share it,” she says. “I’ve said before, ‘This is why we lose everything, because when they start planting it and selling it for profit, we gonna lose everything.’ So I felt that it would be better if they understand that. I feel when you give, you have more. I feel that. And I don’t believe in selling my limu. If I have it and somebody wants some, I’ll just let them have it because my feeling is, it’s like a gift, yeah.” According to its website, Kua‘āina Ulu ‘Auamo (KUA) partnered with the ‘Ewa Limu Project in 2014 to gather more than 30 traditional limu practitioners who represented the six Hawaiian Islands at Limu Hui. By coming together for four days of “learning, knowledge, sharing and discussion,” the hoped-for result was to build trust, share knowledge and build collaboration toward common goals. The elders who hold traditional knowledge of limu and its practice live in mainly rural areas, and Aunty Vani is one of them. Together with Mac, the two attended this year’s Limu Hui in March. Speaking of past events, she says, “It’s interesting you know, cuz everybody

wants to learn the culture. And it’s amazing how many people have different ways of doing things. We share. You see, I don’t believe in keeping it to myself. I want the children to learn their culture. It’s so important that they know how we do our thing.” So, the younger generation have a willingness, a desire to learn about traditional practices? “… they want to because I think they just ready, ripe for culture,” Aunty shares. “So I’m willing to teach them. I guess now they’re proud they’re from Hawai‘i. It doesn’t mean that you gotta be Hawaiian to know. As long as you live in Hawai‘i, you want to learn the culture so you can say, ‘I’m from Hawai‘i, I can talk about what the living is like.’ So they willing to learn. It’s like a hands-on thing … they want to learn. They willing to ask questions.” She recalls the time when one of her sons came to her and said he wanted to learn how to clean and prepare limu. She said, “Okay!” then told him to find other boys who wanted to learn as well. “ … we went and picked. We had sooo much limu. Plenty! Plenty! Plenty!” she exclaims. “All of them were cleaning — it was really nice you know, to see these men doing

HELE MAI MAKANI KAI AIR May - August 2018

it! I asked him, ‘Why you want to learn how to do limu?’ He told me, ‘I married haole, mom. She ain’t going pick me up limu!’” Aunty laughs and continues, “‘She not going make limu for me. So I gotta go get my own!’” More laughter. After talking about limu ‘ele‘ele, Aunty wants to show us what it looks like. We walk a few steps down to the shallow waters skimming the shoreline. To the left we see Ali‘i Fishpond about a mile away; to the right sits Kaloko‘eli Fishpond. Both are being restored by Ka Honua Momona, of which Aunty Vani is a board member. Aunty hums to herself as she goes to check on her limu to show us a specimen. “Here, this is one. Yeah, get plenty, but these are all old already,” she says, eyes scanning the water. I ask how does she know it’s old. “Ah, kinda brownish looking. “See that right there? See those rocks there?” she points to some rocks barely breaking the surface. Walking toward them, she explains, “We put that rock in there to grow the limu. And then like this, this is what it looks like. See?” She plucks a patch of vibrant green, grassy-looking seaweed. “This is limu ‘ele‘ele. When you pick, you pick like this, and then you pluck the end. You pluck the end so you get the roots out. And then you accumulate all like this, get pans of it, and clean. You rinse it under the water, then massage it. And it comes all silky afterwards, once it’s clean. See? Interesting, huh? “It’ll be even better once you get plenty and you rub and rub and rub. And the thing, when you pick ‘um up, just so-o-oft, silky, good when you eat ‘um with salt!” We all break into laughter. “But you see, all this is gorilla ogo,” she says, pointing to an accumulation of the invasive species beached at the high water mark. Gorilla ogo was introduced to Hawai‘i for aquaculture research to produce agar used to make a vegetarian gelatin or thickening agent. According to the DLNR, it prevents young

corals and seaweeds from attaching to the ocean floor to grow and doesn’t allow larger animals to access holes and crevices, thus changing the ocean floor habitat. But Aunty has found that gorilla ogo can be delicious too. “When you prepare it, it’s good!” she says. “You just gotta blanch it longer. They tough, yeah, I noticed when I used to not blanch it long enough, it was tough. But if I blanch it long, kinda cook it, it comes out really good. Come just like regular ogo. But they so invasive!” Continuing to scour the water and hum to herself, Aunty finds another limu. “This is one that looks like cabbage, yeah?” she says, picking a bright green limu with flat branches. “This is pālahalaha; it’s like nori. But this, you cut ‘um up with what we call huluhuluwaena; it makes beautiful, edible limu. This is ‘ono. You know what I usually do with this one? I tell you, pick it up, take it home, rinse it out, wash it, and all you do is chop it up and throw ‘um in your omelet. Oh, it’s good!” In a moment of reflection, she says, “When I was in my prime, everyday I would be down at the ocean out there, looking for different kind of limu. You cannot find too many that my dad used to use to make with the raw squid, you know. Used to have the līpe‘epe‘e and all that. You no can find those anymore because of this invasive limu. It’s sad. “That’s the reason why I like to investigate when I go down the beach, look, you know, see what kind get. And try make different type of limu, how to prepare it …” We stand on Aunty’s patch of beach bordered by ancient fishponds the community is endeavoring to bring back. In this place seemingly untouched by technology, urban growth and human impact, they still affect Moloka‘i’s environment. And so Aunty Vani does what she can to give back to her community, sitting on five different boards, and is still busy today, sharing her limu secrets and philosophy with a younger generation who are ready to listen and learn.

HELE MAI - MAKANI KAI AIR

the V I L L AG E P OT T E R

by Catherine Cluett Pactol

A mug takes shape under Bennettâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s hands

HELE MAI MAKANI KAI AIR May - August 2018

ou can tell him it’s beautiful, but the highest compliment you can pay potter Dan Bennett is to simply use his stoneware. For the last 44 years, his Moloka‘i-made pottery has been an ode to functionality. “My approach is to make utilitarian ware, which is stuff you can use,” he says. “Decorative stuff is nice, but it just collects dust. I think that’s the best thing I can do, that you use it on a regular basis.” From bowls, plates and mugs, to piggy banks, pots and soap dispensers, Bennett’s high-fired stoneware pieces, handmade in Kala‘e, Moloka‘i, are meant to hold up to everyday life in the dishwasher, microwave and oven. “I’m a potter, and more specifically, I see myself as the village potter,” he says of his role on Moloka‘i. “Before the Industrial Revolution, every village had a village potter — someone who made stuff people could use in their homes, so that’s kinda how I see what I do.” One side of Bennett’s studio is lined with shelves of finished ceramics in all colors, shapes and sizes. The other side is his creative space. He uses about one ton of clay to create hundreds of pieces each year. Bennett forms his pottery using a wheel — a spinning work surface controlled by a foot

pedal — “because it’s fast.” If you find joy in imperfection and knowing that something is one of a kind, he says, his pottery is for you. “Making pots this way appeals to me because I’m not a perfectionist,” he says. “I think that’s part of the interesting thing about handmade ware is it’s slightly imperfect .... To me, it’s about what you want to have around you in your home or your life. If you want anonymous, impersonal stuff, you can get that, but if you want something that you selected yourself and has meaning to you or appeals to you in some way, you have a more personal relationship with it.” Though the finished products are unique, each piece begins the same. Bennett sits on a stool with the wheel spinning smoothly and a lump of clay in both hands. He sprinkles some water on the clay to soften it and begins forming an indention in the top of the ball. The clay takes shape under his fingers, splattering small daubs of wet mud in its wake as the wheel whirls. The walls of the mug seem to grow as if in a time-lapse video, and he smooths them with a sponge. Less than five minutes later, the mug is formed. “People often ask me how long it takes to

Bennett’s stoneware comes in all shapes and sizes

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Starting as lumps of clay, each piece has its beginning on Bennett’s pottery wheel

make it. The answer is either three minutes or 50 years,” he laughs. Taking it off the wheel, he sets the mug on a shelf where it will dry and firm up before he cleans it a bit more and attaches the handle. It will become one of his most popular gift and souvenir items — blue “Molokai” mugs — sold at several local shops. He also holds an annual sale at his studio, as well as welcomes shoppers by appointment. After they’re formed, each piece goes through two high temperature firings in the kiln, a propane-powered pottery oven. The first process, called the bisque firing, removes all remaining moisture from the clay by heating it for 24 hours at 1850 degrees Fahrenheit. Then the pottery gets glazed, which gives each piece its color and pattern. It goes into the kiln for a second round — this time at the blazing temperature of 2300 degrees — which hardens the glaze and makes it waterproof.

Glazing isn’t an exact science. “It’s always a controlled experiment,” he says. “That’s one of the exciting things about it. You may think you know what it’s going to do, but it’s the atmosphere in the kiln that determines what it’s going to look like. You can glaze these pots exactly the same but no two will look alike because they might be at different places in the kiln and they’re differently affected by the flame.” He draws his inspiration from the environment. Some pieces are adorned with ‘ōhi‘a lehua patterns, while others are a nod to Hawaiian tapa and tattoo designs — stamped and glazed in an earthen brown color to mimic wooden carving — which he calls his “Proto-Polynesian” line. Some have kiawe ash mixed with the glaze to create a distinctive texture. Another technique involves throwing Hawaiian salt into the kiln and the gas it gives off adheres to the glaze

HELE MAI MAKANI KAI AIR May - August 2018

Bennett’s signature “Molokai” mugs are a popular gift item as it’s firing, lending a speckled look to the finished product. Pottery wasn’t always in Bennett’s life plan. As a child, he says, he was not good with his hands, much to his father’s dismay. Coming from a family line of electricians, he was supposed to become an electrical engineer. Instead he became a math teacher. In search of creativity, he began taking adult education classes in ceramics where he lived in Santa Barbara, California — and thus began his lasting passion. In 1974, he and his wife, Kathy, moved permanently to Moloka‘i, and he set up his kiln and a shed where he made pottery. He taught math — along with some science and English — at Molokai High School until he retired in 2005, though he continues to teach some college classes. That’s the same year he finished building his studio in Kala‘e alongside their current home. Residents wanting to learn pottery flocked to his studio. Bennet says the numbers reached 30 students per week — and he realized there was a need for more teaching space. Moloka‘i was the only island without an arts center, he says, and sharing what he’s learned is important to him.

“To me, nothing on the face of the earth is new, so whatever things you figure out, somebody else has done before you,” he says. “So what you should do is share it with everybody ... and you always do it with the confidence that no matter what you tell somebody else, no matter how closely they copy what you do, it’s always going to be different.” He was instrumental in starting the Molokai Arts Center, where he serves as one of its founding members. The Arts Center in Kualapu‘u offers weekly classes for kids, adults and older residents, as well as brings in visiting artists, holds art shows and supports local artists in becoming entrepreneurs to market their work. Residents can learn many art forms, from printmaking to mosaics, painting to Hawaiian arts — and, of course, pottery. “I think the only sane thing to do in this crazy world we live in is to create something,” concludes Bennett. “That desire to create — I think it’s innate in everybody. And I think ... it’s a measurement of the health of a culture.” Call Bennett’s studio at (808) 567-6585 for a showing.

HELE MAI - MAKANI KAI AIR

HELE MAI MAKANI KAI AIR May - August 2018