7 minute read
Old Camp
The Sweet Golden Days of My Youth
By Sheila Mae Uluwehi Roback
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How I treasured my one-of-akind rice bag shorts with a shirt to match. She sewed for me a patchwork mu'umu'u with all the colors of the rainbow. Mama could look at you, take one of your old dresses, and make a brand-new dress that fit to a tee; she never had to measure, it was all done by eye. She was a master at sewing!
Upstairs, up house, Mama Mata’s and Papa Blas’s house. Peals of laughter ringing in the air, the smell of Pine-O coming from a freshly mopped floor, the feel of the cool lauhala mats under my feet, so many rooms to explore and to hide and play in. The sweet voice of Lena Machado wafts through the air…Mele ana e, mele ana ho’i….
The upstairs parlor was filled with wall-to-wall pune’e, beds, couches and chairs. I remember lying in bed in Aunty Angela’s room, looking up at the ceiling painted in bright fluorescent colors with tracks of furry menehune feet walking a trail up the walls. Aunty Angela, Ma'ano, Pearl, Lois, Donna and I, singing to the words written on the walls, “When you’re alone with nothing better to do you can always go downtown.”
Mama’s hands were rough and weathered—hard-working hands that picked and cleaned lauhala; no need for gloves. I loved to watch her strip lauhala as she softly whistled her special whistle as she worked. She was a master at lauhala weaving—hats, mats, fans, pillows, picture frames, and my favorite: stars!
On Easter, she always made lauhala baskets for each of us (and they always won the Easter basket contest). Mama held all the qualities of the ‘Ōlelo No'eau: “E wehe i ka umauma i ākea”…Open the chest wide and spacious. (Said of a generous person.)
Papa Blas was a man of few words but always teaching, always working, always making time to answer the many questions we bombarded him with. My first job was working for him—my pay started at one penny, then increased to a nickel, then a dime.
By the time I retired my pay was up to a quarter. Some of you might have had my job before or after me; it was pulling the white hairs from his head. I sometimes pulled a black hair, and he would know that one was not white, so no pay. He would count all the white hairs and then give me my coins. Then it was a mad dash to Hasegawa store to the glass case of candies; back then you could buy a lot of gum and candies with 50 cents.
He taught me how to cut down the tallest banana tree, without letting a single banana touch the ground. He knew exactly when to cut the bananas and when each bunch would start to ripen; he was a master farmer. He had a way of saying people’s name, with his Filipino accent that made your name sound special. I can hear him now, saying, “Sila, I suppose you go help Papa feed the pigs.” We would gather papayas, cut them up into a giant pot, and cook the slop for the pigs. Anything and everything went into that pot. Making the fire was the fun part; lots of newspaper. We always smelled like smoke afterwards; it was the best mosquito repellent in those days. We were always dirty at the end of the day and it’s no wonder! There was never a boring moment in my childhood days at Old Camp.
Martha and Blas Sinenci with their children in 1947 near Old Camp in Hāna.
Photo courtesy of Sheila Roback. Used with permission from the Sinenci 'Ohana.
Old Camp…some of my most cherished memories come from that place and that time. I spent my childhood there as Mama was our babysitter while my parents worked. My friends were Aunty Angela, Ma'ano, Donna, Susan, Sweetheart (Lily Marie) and Sweetheart (Sophronia). Sophronia and I spent many, many days swinging on the swing that was between the Diegos’ house and the Sinencis’ house. It hung from the giant plumeria trees and when we were swinging we used to pretend we could fly to heaven and pick plumeria in the clouds.
This area was beautiful, and it led down a path to Tutu Kahuila’s house and the sweetest mountain apple tree. I remember going to Tutu Kahuila’s house. He would be sitting on the porch patching net or playing his guitar. He would invite us in to drink hot tea and sometimes read from the biggest Bible I ever saw. The best part was sitting on his steps eating juicy mountain apples and listening to him play his guitar.
Some of our toys back then were yellow allamanda fingernails, hibiscus stem big eye makers, sardine and tuna can high heels (when we tied string through, it became a walkie talkie or telephone), papaya stalk and ali'i poepoe seed shooting blow guns, and let’s not forget the mud pies we would make.
Sophronia and I had Filipino- Hawaiian style tea parties; nothing like in England. We decorated our mud pies with flowers and leaves. Mama Pine was always the sweetest guest at our tea parties; she would pretend to try each dish and drink our special chocolate champaign and exclaim how ‘ono it was and what good chefs we were.
I loved to sit on Mama Pine’s and Papa Ash’s front porch; I was always welcomed with aloha. Sophronia used to tell me, “No scared my Papa, he no bite!” Laughter surrounded the house with all the aunties; we used to try on their high heels and play dress up. What fun days!
Our special treats back then were red coconut balls, almond roca, coconut and black beans am pan, coconut candy; and crackers, crackers, crackers. We had cracker with butter, peanut butter, guava jelly, pear and sugar, condensed milk; in coffee, cocoa or tea; with butter and sugar sprinkled on top. Hinae used to make stuffed akule, a pickled dish; it was stuffed with rice that had the taste of sweet vinegar. It was Stephen Boy’s favorite. I always wondered what the Japanese called this—sushi, maybe?
My Papa was the sabao (gravy) man; my favorite was tuna sabao. Papa always had a fruit for us to eat and Mama had apple turnovers, hot from the oven. My favorite treat that Mama made was bitsubitsu; now, every once in a while, my dad makes it, and it always reminds me of “Old Camp” days.
When I think of Old Camp, I remember the beauty of hearing Hawaiian, Filipino, Japanese, and even a form of Pig Latin called “gu” spoken—"yougu knowgo whagat Igi megeen!” I remember the laughter, the tears, the music, the smells of life, sustenance, spirit, and passion. I remember the love, legacies, and family.
Old Camp was a blend of culture, food, music, faith, and families. I am so blessed to have been a child raised in Old Camp. I want to thank all the families who were an important part of my life back in Old Camp—the Diegos, Tolentinos, Fujikawas, Sumidas, Moihas, Kahuilas, Sinencis and the Filipino Tatas; Sabino, Sabrine and Bening.
Also to the families who lived there before my time: the Kus, Villiarimos and many more. I have come to appreciate more and more the values that I learned growing up in your presence; your teaching; your aloha.
The valuable lessons I learned that you all instilled in me are to love one another, to forgive one another, to malama one another, to help one another, and most important, to love the Lord God with all your heart, might, and soul.
To Old Camp, and the families that called this place home, we were hard workers—innovative, talented, intelligent; we were not poor, we were rich—so rich with the love of each other, so blessed with the love of our Father in Heaven.
May we always be grateful for the many blessings and mercies we receive each day and give thanks to God for the breath of life! May we never forget the Sweet Golden Days of Our Youth at Old Camp…
