FOR KOOLINA Hale
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In the Hawaiian language, hale (pronounced huhâ-leh) translates to âhouseâ or âhost.â Hale is an intimate expression of the aloha spirit found throughout the islands and a reflection of the hospitality of Ko Olina. In this publication, you will find that hale is more than just a structure, it is a way of life. Ko Olina celebrates the community it is privileged to be a part of and welcomes you to immerse yourself in these stories of home.
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FEATURES
70
Keliâiokalani MÄkua
After nearly 30 years of apprenticeship, a tattooist continues his family legacy of kÄkau, the practice of traditional Hawaiian body art.
84
Fisherwomen of Waiâanae
Meet the West Side wÄhine who seek the sea for sustenance, camaraderie, and self-worth.
100
MÅlÄ« Rising
In spite of setbacks throughout the past century, island albatross colonies, including the rookery at Kaâena Point, are growing once again.
114
Watering Minds
Lessons learned during his youth at PÅkaâÄ« Bay continue teaching educator Abe Nahulu how to care for his community.
Duane DeSoto: Water Cycles
MAâO Farms: Digging Deep
Pashyn Santos: The Comedian
LETTER FROM JEFFREY R. STONE
Aloha and welcome,
We are blessed to share Ko Olina, our âHale,â our home, with you.
One of the first moments that captivates visitors to Ko Olina is the âaway from it allâ feeling the resort inspiresâaway from urban Honolulu, away from the fervent buzz of WaikÄ«kÄ«, and away from the cares of the world. Even after two decades, I still experience an âaway from it allâ sense of peace while Iâm here.
But Iâm also mindful that we are close to all that matters.
We are close to the ocean, and not just through physical proximity. This western shoreline and our translucent lagoons are unique in the islands for their visual beauty and for the abundant ecosystems they support. Spinner dolphins, green sea turtles, Hawaiian monk seals, and countless species of sea life grace our coastal waters. Ko Olina is honored to support programs that care for and improve our oceans.
We are close to nature. Sited on the shores of the stunning Waiâanae Range, Ko Olina is a stoneâs throw from beautiful nature trails at Puâu MÄâiliâili, local farms that yield amazing products for our restaurants, and a natural area reserve for the endangered mÅlÄ« (albatross) at Kaâena Point. Our incomparable West Side sunsets provide breathtaking photos year âround.
We are close to culture. We feel deeply indebted to our host Hawaiian culture, which touches all we do, from music and dance, to art, education, and architecture. A genuine spirit of âaloha is the foundation of this resortâs hospitality experiences.
Most importantly, we are close to our greatest treasure, our âohana: employees, neighbors, friends, kÅ«puna, keiki. This publication is a celebration of the fascinating personal and professional pursuits of this community. It is a privilege to share their stories with you.
Whether you are a visitor to the islands or kamaâÄina, and whether you are here for a relaxing getaway or just a look-see, I hope you enjoy every moment.
Ko Olina ⊠a place away from it all, but close to everything important. A place of joy.
Aloha,
Jeffrey R. StoneMaster
Developer,Ko Olina Resort
Hale is a publication that celebrates Oâahuâs leeward sideâa
place rich in diverse stories and home to Ko Olina Resort.
Oâahuâs leeward coast is indeed a special place, from mauka to makai. In this issue, we explore even further, looking to the skies to learn about the mÅlÄ«, a majestic seabird that finds refuge on the islandâs westernmost point, and delve into the deeply spiritual practice of kÄkau, the traditional art of Hawaiian tattoo. As you follow along, learn about two farmers who are on a mission to bring Hawaiâi diners all natural, locally raised pork, and be inspired by a young Waiâanae waterman who turned his passion for the ocean into his profession. These stories, along with others, provide intimate glimpses of West Oâahu and the people and places at its heart.
ABOUT THE COVER
The cover image, of a path to the sea found among the Waianae Coast Comprehensive Health Centerâs walking trails, was photographed by Josiah Patterson, a MÄkaha-based photographer. The trailsâ natural beauty aid in the centerâs mission to provide guests with the ability to immerse themselves in the West Sideâs bounty of nature, history, and culture.
CEO & Publisher
Jason Cutinella
Lead Producer Gerard Elmore
Video Editor
Aulani, A Disney Resort & Spa aulani.com
Four Seasons Resort Oâahu at Ko Olina fourseasons.com/oahu
Marriottâs Ko Olina Beach Club marriott.com
Beach Villas at Ko Olina KoOlina.com/accommodations
Oceanwide Resort
Ko Olina Golf Club koolinagolf.com
Ko Olina Marina koolinamarina.com
Ko Olina Station + Center KoOlina.com/experiences
The Resort Group theresortgroup.com KoOlina.com
Chief Creative Officer Lisa Yamada-Son lisa@nellamediagroup.com
Creative Director Ara Feducia
Managing Editor Matthew Dekneef
Senior Editor Rae Sojot
Associate Editor Anna Harmon
Photography Director John Hook
Photo Editor Samantha Hook
Designers
Michelle Ganeku Mitchell Fong
Copy Editor Andy Beth Miller
Editorial Assistant Eunica Escalante
Network Marketing Coordinator Aja Toscano
Translations Yuzuwords
Kyle Kosaki
Advertising Group Publisher Mike Wiley mike@nellamediagroup.com
Marketing & Advertising Executive Chelsea Tsuchida
Operations
Chief Revenue Officer Joe V. Bock joe@nellamediagroup.com
VP Accounts Receivable Gary Payne gpayne@nellamediagroup.com
Operations Administrator Courtney Miyashiro
©2018 by Nella Media Group, LLC. Contents of Hale are protected by copyright and may not be reproduced without the expressed written consent of the publisher. Hale is the exclusive publication of Ko Olina Resort. Visit KoOlina.com for information on accommodations, activities, and special events.
Image by Josiah Patterson
âWhen they learn to nurture the plants, they become more mindful of how their actions can affect those around them.â
Danielle Steger, gardener and educator, NÄ Keiki O Ka âÄina
Image by Josiah Patterson
ç¥ããããéãæ©ã Life
Off the Beaten Path
Text by Timothy A. Schuler Images by Josiah Pattersonã¯ã€ã¢ããšã³ãŒã¹ãã»ã³ã³ããªãã³ã·ãã»ãã«ã¹ã»ã³ã¿ãŒã«ã¯ãæããæ©ã㊠ã¿ãããªãéãã§å å®ãããã¬ã€ã«ããããŸãã
On these beautiful winding trails rich with plants and artwork, travelers are invited to walk for both wellness and learning.
Long before it was home to Waianae Coast Comprehensive Health Center, the small but jagged peak of Puâu MÄâiliâili was a fishermenâs lookout. Protruding from the flat lowlands like a breaching whale, the small mountain provided a clear view of the water, and of the circling seabirds that indicated large schools of âÅpelu or other fish.
This is just one of the many tidbits of Hawaiian history and culture a person absorbs wandering the public walking trails behind the health centerâs main campus. Carved into the hillside, and constructed almost exclusively by the health centerâs staff and volunteers over the past two decades, the trails weave through densely planted gardens and copses of kukui nut trees. They create a web of pathways invisible from the road that provide patients and community members alike with opportunities to immerse themselves in nature, history, and culture.
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The Waianae Coast Comprehensive Health Centerâs extensive but secluded trail system offers visitors a variety of reasons to stroll leisurely along the coastline.
Various markers along the path enlighten walkers on the diversity of flora they are encountering and how these plants relate to traditional Hawaiian healing practices.
The walking trails offer both exercise and inspiration, as well as stunning views.
A small pavilion near one of the many starting points proclaims, âHele no ke ola, hele no ka âike,â which means âWalk for wellness, walk to learn.â The learning is literal. Almost all of the trails are themed and feature informational kiosks, some with touchscreen capabilities, that describe various aspects of traditional Hawaiian culture. On the LÄâau Trail, for instance, visitors learn about the noni tree, a relative of coffee, whose fermented juice is used to reduce blood pressure and prevent diabetes, and about mÄmaki, whose small white berries were used to relax a womanâs muscles during childbirth.
This knowledge is provided by the health centerâs KÅ«puna Council and the cultural practitioners at the Dr. Agnes
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Kalanihookaha Cope Native Hawaiian Traditional Healing Center, opened in 2009. The center operates separately but in partnership with Waianae Coast Comprehensive Health Center and offers lomilomi (Hawaiian massage therapy), lÄâau lapaâau (herbal medicine), lÄâau kÄhea (spiritual healing), and hoâoponopono (conflict resolution). However, it does not take referrals. In the Hawaiian tradition, those seeking healing must come of their own accord.
According to Richard Kiaâiikeolamaiola Bettini, the health centerâs president and CEO, there was no grand vision for the gardens. In 1996, there was simply a need for a pathway to the health centerâs new amphitheater. From there, the endeavor snowballedâor rather spiraled, looped, and climbed the hillsideâand now the center boasts 1.5 miles of trails, all of which are free and open to the public from sunrise to sunset. Many of the paths feature detailed stone, copper, and woodwork by the late Melvin Kauila Clark, a Native Hawaiian artist and health practitioner (and the first Native Hawaiian to serve as board chair of the National Association of Community Health Centers) and Sooriya Kumar, a Sri Lankan copper artist whose work is a combination of traditional technique and spiritual practice.
The trails are an oasis for both patients and staff. Studies have shown that walking in nature can significantly reduce a personâs risk of depression, and participants in Waianae Coast Comprehensive Health Centerâs behavioral health program take weekly walks, which can reduce the risk of heart disease and diabetes, through the gardens. Staff members take to the trails on their breaks, and community members come to enjoy the variety of plants and fountains.
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Detailed stone carvings, copper art, and woodwork by the late Native Hawaiian artist Melvin Kauila Clark can be viewed along the 1.5 miles of trails that are all free to the public.
Increasingly, Bettini sees international travelers on the trails. In response, the health center and the Native Hawaiian Traditional Healing Center are working on an even more radical project: developing the campus into a full-fledged visitor destination, a place where visitors can learn about traditional Native Hawaiian healing practices while supporting West Side communities. Bettini believes it will give visitors and residents alike a chance to discover a part of Oâahu that, for many, has remained out of view. âThereâs so much energy in this community that people donât know about,â he says.
Waianae Coast Comprehensive Health Centerâs Waianae Journey App is available for iPhone and Android devices.
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Seeds of Hope
Text by Kristen Nemoto Jay Images by Meagan SuzukiAt a Waiâanae educational farm, an awareness about oneâs relationship to the land starts with the soil.
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Near the end of Waiâanaeâs long highway is a farm, tucked along the outskirts of MÄkaha Elementary School. Here, among the goats, ducks, and chickens (including one named McNugget), thousands of students and volunteers have gathered to work, play, and create a place of learning. This place is Hoa âÄina O MÄkaha, which translates to âthe land shared in friendship in MÄkaha.â
The roots of this nonprofit organization were established when Sacred Heart Churchâs priest Luigi âGigiâ Cocquio was ã¯ã€ã¢ããšã®é·ããã€ãŠã§ã€ã®çµç¹è¿ãããã«ãå°åŠæ ¡ã®ããé£ã ã«ãäžã€ã®èŸ²å ŽããããŸããã€ã®ãã¢ãã«ãé¶ïŒãã®ãã¡1矜ã«ã¯ãã ãã¯ãã²ããããšããååãã€ããããŠããŸãïŒã飌ãããŠããã ã®èŸ²å Žã§ã¯ããããŸã§ã«å»¶ã¹æ°å人ã®çåŸããã©ã³ãã£ã¢ãé㟠ã£ãŠåããéã³ãåŠã³ã®å ŽãäœãåºããŠããŸããããã®èŸ²å Žã¯ãåæ ã®äžã«å ±æããããã«ãã®åå°ããæå³ããããã¢ã»ã¢ã€ãã»ãªã»ã ã«ãããšåŒã°ããŠããŸãã
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Hoa âÄina O MÄkaha, which translates to âthe land shared in friendship in MÄkaha,â shows the community how to maintain gardens and harvest vegetables, and serves as a social and emotional learning space.
asked to transform the churchâs vacant piece of land into something other than random shrubs and trees. âWe really didnât know what the area would turn into,â
Cocquio says. In August of 1979, after volunteers helped machete-chop the acreage into a clean slate of soil, Cocquio thought it could perhaps be a garden. Cocquio had made his way to Hawaiâi from the Philippines a few months prior, where he had been assigned as a priest. But he was originally from Italy, where he had learned to garden as a child on his grandparentsâ farm.
After pipes were laid into the land to water and nourish the seeds, vegetables soon sprouted and were quickly harvested. It became an unintentional but successful plan: feed the community and provide a place where people could learn how to garden. âI was new to the community, so I didnât want to assume what it needed,â Cocquio says. âSo we started with just a garden. From there, the farm developed on its own.â
Families from the community started to maintain their own garden plots on the land. Programs, such as an alternative learning center and an outreach program for women, were developed and housed in the propertyâs old military Quonset huts, providing a place for community members to find support, harvest vegetables, and receive help.
In 1987, the nonprofit formed NÄ Keiki O Ka âÄina to give MÄkaha Elementary students an outdoor classroom experience. Native Hawaiian culture is highlighted throughout the farmâs collection of educational projects. Students learn about environmental sustainability through ahupuaâa, the Hawaiian traditonal subdivison of land. At Hale HaumÄna,
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Seeds of Hope
a large gathering place built in 2000, they are taught the importance of pono, or righteousness, during times of conflict. âThis farm provides the best social and emotional learning space,â says Danielle Steger, NÄ Keiki O Ka âÄinaâs full-time garden teacher. A heartwarming Hoa âÄina O MÄkaha tradition for the kindergarten students includes having each child gently cup a seed in their hands, then nestle it into the earth and whisper âgoodnight.â
âWhen they learn to nurture the plants, they become more mindful of how their actions can affect those around them,â she says. Other programs at the farm are Ke Ala, an outdoor learning opportunity for students from other schools, and the MÄlama MÄkaha Container Garden Workshop, which teaches families about growing fruits and vegetables at home.
Through the years, Hoa âÄina O MÄkaha has become a place of refuge for the underserved community of Waiâanae and a learning space for anyone who visits. âWe are not here to change anything, because people change by themselves,â Cocquio says. âAnd if they donât, thatâs OK, too. The point is weâre here and serve as an opportunity.â
For more information, visit hoaainaomakaha.org.
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æµ·ã«çãã人 Life
Man and the Sea
Text by Natalie Schack Images by John HookWaterman Jacob Kahiapo
has spent a lifetime on and in the unmatchable waters
of Oâahuâs West Side.
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When Jacob Kahiapo talks about what it is to be a waterman, he means knowingâ really knowingâthe ocean. From top to bottom, inside and out.
âItâs not about being the best surfer in the lineup,â he says. âItâs about understanding what the ocean has to offer. I understand the power of the ocean from surfing, I understand whatâs below from diving. And now, from sailing, I can harness the wind, travel. I donât have to touch land ever again. To me, thatâs the waterman perspective.â
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For Jacob Kahiapo, who grew up in the waters of Oâahuâs leeward stretch of coastline, the ocean is his calling.
This island boy started surfing in middle school, at Barbers Point just off Kapolei, where he grew up. He spent hours plumbing its depths as a freediver in high school, and sailing it in the years that he attended Hawaiâi Pacific University.
âIf there were waves, Iâd go surf,â says Kahiapo, who is now in his 20s. âIf there werenât waves, Iâd go fishing. I would dive. Basically, my life revolved around what the weather was over the water.â
Then came graduation, and a corporate gig at an insurance company. It was responsible, paid the bills, and gave him a good life. But something was missing. Kahiapo realized he belonged at seaâin it, on it, and around it. His passion was the ocean, and his calling was showing its beauty to the world.
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Man and the Sea Mana Cruises offers experiences for groups of six or less looking to explore and understand the West Side in a more laidback and authentic fashion.
Enter Mana Cruises. Based in Ko Olina Marina, Kahiapoâs brainchild takes this lifetime spent in the water, and presents it as a business that allows the entrepreneur to share his experiences with visitors in a meaningful way. Gone are volumebased tourist models and rigid itineraries. Small, intimate groups of six or less are entertained on Mana Cruises, which are designed to be customizable, laid-back, and authentic. These outings are a glimpse into what it means to âgo holoholoâ (to embark on an easygoing adventure or trip with your âohana), what Kahiapo himself would do with a day on the water. âWeâre doing everything as if youâre just our friends,â he explains.
He and his watermen crew treat guests as old friends. They serve short ribs and seared âahi salad, gourmet twists on their favorite local dishes. They look for dolphins and whales. They take leisurely trips to
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Man and the Sea
On its tours, crewmembers serve the same local-style foods they would indulge in on any other day out at sea, but with a gourmet twist. âWeâre doing everything as if youâre just our friends,â Kahiapo says.
MÄâili Point, and linger at snorkel spots. They shut off engines and catch âÅmilu and weke âula off the side of the boat.
Itâs personal and intimate and everything Kahiapo envisioned: a unique way for guests to see the coastline that is so close to his heart and childhood. It is also an ode to a force, the ocean, that gave him so much happiness, and to a lifestyle that he is blessed to have.
âThe holoholo perspective is where we come from,â Kahiapo says. âIf youâre going to holoholo with your family, itâs all about that time that you spend together. Itâs relationship building, and itâs sharingâ sharing what we do and, literally, what our lives are all about. Itâs like, we love doing this, we want to share it with you. Letâs have some fun.â
For more information, visit manacruises.com.
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幞çŠãªèŸ²å Ž Life
Hog Heaven
Text by Martha Cheng Images by John HookTwo ladies are bringing back locally raised pork with their humane piggery.
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Women make better pig farmers. This is what a female pig farmer once told Stacy Sugai of 2 Lady Farmers, a piggery in Waiâanae. âMen are so much stronger, they can push these guys around,â Sugai says. âWe canât. We just gotta coax them, which means less stress on the pigs.â
Halfway between the coast and the Waiâanae mountain range, in a decidedly residential neighborhood, Sugai and Patsy Oshiro, the other lady of the 2 Lady Farmers, walk through the rows of pigpens on their four-acre piggery. In the first pen, 400-pound boars sun themselves on a
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Patsy Oshiro and Stacy Sugai of 2 Lady Farmers are aiming to make Hawaiâiâs food system more self-sufficient with a focus on pigs. Their pork is carried in Foodland and served in more than 30 restaurants across the island.
warm Waiâanae afternoon. In the next row, Sugai and Oshiro stop to pet the sows, who nuzzle their wet noses against the pens as they approach. And then the duoâs favorite part: They pick up a few of the piglets, which are less than 12 hours old. You can tell that Sugai has a soft spot for the pigs, which inevitably prompts the question: How did she end up in the business of raising animals for meat?
At her home in Waipahu, Sugai started with a vegetable garden and a few egglaying chickens in an effort to be more self-sufficient. Wanting to expand, she began looking for more land. She found four acres that came with a piggery and bought it about six years ago. But Sugai hadnât anticipated the steep learning curve. It began to show so much that her neighbor, Oshiro, took pity on her.
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Hog Heaven
Six years ago, Sugai learned from Oshiro how to tend to her 4-acre piggery. Their methods and approach place less stress on the animals.
Oshiro grew up on a family farm that was the largest supplier of MÄnoa lettuce on Oâahu. While today she is an agriculture inspector for the U.S. Department of Agriculture, she has also been raising pigs since she married a hog farmer 30 years ago. âI knew what this farm could do,â Oshiro says. âNormally farmers donât teach others, they donât give secrets. But, I felt sorry [for her].â Alongside their day jobsâSugai is still a school counselor at Waipahu Intermediate Schoolâthe two do everything on the farm, from welding to marketing to castration.
Most piggeries in Hawaiâi sell directly off the farm, meaning the animals are purchased by consumers who slaughter and clean the pig onsite themselves. But as generations have lost the knowledge and desire to
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procure their food this way, dwindling business has led to shuttered piggeries. âAs a newcomer, I thought, how come thereâs no local pigs in the market?â Sugai says. âAnd then everybody would say, âNobodyâs going to pay the price, itâs too expensive, itâs just not going to happen. No oneâs interested in local pork.â But thereâs local chicken, local eggs, thereâs local beef, whereâs the pork?â
So they approached supermarkets anyway. Then, when Shinsato Farm, a piggery in Kahaluâu closed, its owners introduced Sugai and Oshiro to their chef connections. Today, Foodland carries 2 Lady Farmers pork, and more than 30 restaurants across Oâahu serve their meat in dishes ranging from a ragu at Mahina and Sunâs to roasted pork chops at DK Steakhouse.
âWe love [the pigs] and take care of them the best that we can until itâs time for them to go,â Sugai says. âAnd thatâs how, I guess, I reconcile. While theyâre here, we take the best care of them that we can.â
For more information, visit 2ladypigfarmers.com.
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Image by Josiah Patterson
âIf you plan for a year, plant kalo. If you plan for 10 years, plant koa. But, if you plan for a 100 years, teach the children.â
Puanani Burgess, poet and educator
Image by Josiah Patterson
Hand of the Heavens
After nearly 30 years of apprenticeship, a tattooist continues his family legacy of kÄkau, the practice of traditional Hawaiian body art.
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Textby Rae Sojot
Imagesby Mark Kushimi
In the screened-in lanai of Ka PÄ âO HÅ«nÅhÅ«nÅholani, Keliâiokalani MÄkua is preparing for this dayâs work of kÄkau, the traditional art of Hawaiian tattoo. Laid out before him are slender mÅlÄ«, or tattooing tools, exquisitely handcrafted from wood and bone. A palm sized ipu paâu, carved from volcanic rock, holds a shallow well of obsidian-black ink. The men who will hold taut the recipientâs skin to better receive the ink, the stretchers, first gather to share in a ceremonial drinking of âawa. As pule, or prayers, are offered to KÄne, the god associated with kÄkau, MÄkua falls momentarily silent. A kahuna kÄ uhi, or priest in the art of kÄkau, MÄkua bears a mantle of great spiritual and cultural responsibility: He serves as the medium between the divine and man.
Before he works on an individual, MÄkua will sit and speak with that personâsometimes for hours, sometimes for a stretch of daysâ to learn of the individualâs family and heritage, of their trials and tribulations, of their hopes and dreams. In MÄkuaâs mind, the intangible becomes tangible as he settles upon an appropriate design. Each is relevant to that personâs life, explains MÄkua. The designs reflect the recipientsâ past, present, and future. For many, a first traditional tattoo is
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an ala niho, a pattern representative of the individualâs family and customs. âFamily is what grounds you,â MÄkua says. âSo we often start there.â
On this morning, work has begun on a man receiving his ala niho. The space feels quiet, nearly reverent, as MÄkua selects an appropriate mÅlÄ« and hahau, or tapping stick. Sitting cross-legged before the reclining man, MÄkua nods almost imperceptibly to his stretchers. They pull taut a diamond-shaped area of skin on the manâs upper thigh. MÄkua dips the fine teeth of the mÅlÄ« into the inkwell. Holding the hahau at a cant, he brings it down upon the mÅlÄ« in a series of swift, measured strikes. Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap. The toolâs fine teeth pierce the skin with each strike, releasing ink under the surface. Slowly, a geometric design with a recursive beauty begins to emerge. Over the next few hours, the distinct staccato of tapping fills the pÄ, rhythmic and hypnotic. MÄkua remains focused, as if the susurrations of his ancestors are in his ear, guiding his hand. Skin that was once silent now speaks with meaning.
For many who encounter MÄkua for the first time, his impressive body art draws both intrigue and unveiled stares. Much of his body is covered in uhi, or tattoo, including his face. A large bold rectangle surrounds his
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Hand of the Heavens
eye. Two lines of geometrics, running from forehead to chin, intersect the block. More lines are visible under his cropped hair. Yet MÄkua is unbothered by stares. He didnât decide upon the face tattoos to look intimidating or cool, like many might. âThis is who I am,â he says. âThis is my culture.â
Though MÄkua holds the venerated title of kahuna kÄ uhi, he hadnât set out to become one. He didnât even grow up in Hawaiâi. His father, Lee Foreman, is from Colorado, and arrived in the islands in the early 1960s. Here, he fell in love with both the culture and Kaâimiola MÄkua. The two married and relocated to Denver to raise their family. As a child, MÄkuaâs inquisitive nature was well known. âHe was always in my pocket,â Foreman says. âAlways following me around.â MÄkua was particularly drawn to his Hawaiian roots, absorbing whatever cultural knowledge he could acquire on visits back to Hawaiâi. âEven back then I was hungry for that knowledge,â MÄkua says. âI would sit at the feet of my elders and just listen.â By the time he was in fifth grade, he could recite his genealogy back eight and nine generations, to the 1700s.
Childhood took a strange and tragic turn. MÄkua developed a rare form of cancer, which led to a pendulum
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of doctorsâ visits and hospital stays throughout his middle-school years. Faced with mortality at a young age, MÄkua pondered life and death. He developed an acute awareness of the elements that held paramount importance to him, namely family and culture. He promised himself that once he was well, he would find his way back to the islands. The native son would return home.
At 18, MÄkua made good on his promise. Returning to Hawaiâi, he embarked on twin paths: He found successful work as a construction foreman, while he sought a means to deepen his connection to Hawaiian culture. He was taken under the wing of his cousin Keone Nunes, the master
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Hand of the Heavens
tattooist credited with bringing kÄkau back from the brink of extinction. For MÄkua, the sacred work spoke to him. KÄkau had long been a part of his familyâs lineage. âI was young when I first started with Keone, maybe 20 years old,â MÄkua, who is now 48, says. âWhenever Keone needed me to help out, I was there. I would always take his calls and go, I didnât think twice.â
MÄkua apprenticed under Nunes for the next 27 years, helping to craft mÅlÄ«, stretch skin, and learning all facets of kÄkauâhistorical, spiritual, cultural, and social. For him, working alongside his cousin was an honor. In 2017, Nunes informed him that it was time for his âÅ«niki, a graduation ceremony that would mark MÄkua as a kahuna kÄ uhi. This ritual hadnât been performed in 200 years. âI didnât want that,â MÄkua confesses. âI would have been happy to sit for the rest of my life under Keone ⊠but he told me it was time.â On MÄkuaâs left hand is an uhi no one else in the world bears. Given to him by Nunes, the emblem marks MÄkuaâs stature, his link to his spiritual forebears, and most paramount, his kuleana, or responsiblity, to others and his culture. You belong to the people now, Nunes had told him after his âÅ«niki. The sacred pattern is distinct in its simplicityâdesigned for the one who enlightens others.
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Fisherwomen of Waiâanae
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Meet the West Side wÄhine who seek the sea for sustenance, camaraderie, and self-worth.
In this photo essay, follow the daily adventures of these faithful fishers, from sunrise to sunset.
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Textby Rae Sojot
Images by Josiah Patterson
In Hawaiâi, fisherwomen are a small demographic, representing 17 percent of ocean recreationists holding boat safety certifications. They encounter the same trials and triumphs out on the ocean, and like their male counterparts, are eager to test their mettle. Gender stereotypes quickly sink in the midst of Jess Rohr, Tasha Ferriman-Denison, and Rhonda Ferriman. âThere are a lot of strong women out there leading the way, but we still get messages from society that women arenât capable,â says Rohr, one of the captains for Boom Boom Sportfishing, a deep-sea fishing charter based out of Waiâanae Harbor. âItâs nice to shut that idea down and believe in yourself. Itâs empowering.â
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From sea, the Waiâanae Mountains cut a striking line of green and gold against the sky. âThe West Sideâs bathymetry, or underwater topography, is steeper and drops off more rapidly than other locations around Oâahu,â explains Jamison Gove, a NOAA oceanographer.
âThis allows for fishers to trawl for pelagic fish, such as tuna and marlin, much closer to shore.â Weather also plays an important role. Windy, choppy conditions are a bane of fishing, but since the dominant winds here in Hawaiâi are Northeast trades, the Waiâanae Range blocks much of the wind. The result? Brilliant blue waters and boast-worthy fishing grounds.
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Long known for its plentiful waters, Waiâanae means âwaters of the mulletâ in the Hawaiian language, and fishing remains a rich tradition for many who live there. Here, Hawaiâi fishers are blessed with year-round action. Each fish species has a generalized season influenced by spawning, moon cycles, and migratory patterns. Winter months typically see fishers angling for shibi (small tuna), while spring brings striped marlin, mahimahi, and ono, and summer marks the arrival of âahi, the locally prized fish that can weigh hundreds of pounds. The luckiest of fishers can catch all of these fish in one day.
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Fishing runs in the family for Ferriman-Denison: Her father taught her how to fish the shoreline, crab, and troll when she was a child. âI loved trollingâwhen we hooked up, I would jump in the captainâs chair and drive the boat while my dad would fight, gaff, and land the fish,â she recalls. Despite the brutal task of delivering the final killing blow, young Ferriman-Denison was thrilled by the palpable action and excitement of fishing. Years later, her daughter, Tasha, shown above, heeded the seaâs siren call, and today, mother and daughter fish together. âI love to fish with Tasha. Sheâs the captain, and I go where the captain goes,â Ferriman-Denison says.
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Every fisher has an epic tale of the one that got away. For Rohr and Ferriman-Denison, however, itâs the one that didnât. Launching out from the harbor one fall morning, the two friends set lines and settled in for a day at sea. They kept themselves busy prepping bait and rigging lures. Suddenly, a reel zinged: It was a blue marlin. The women sprang into action. For the next two hours, a battle ensued. Determined to land the fish, the two worked together and prevailed. It was a veritable leviathan, a 400-pounder. âWe both discovered strength we never knew we had,â says Ferriman-Denison, who later commemorated the experience with a tattoo of a jumping marlin.
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The night before a dawn patrol excursion, FerrimanDenison has a standard routine: Weather forecasts are scrutinized, poles and reels greased, lures and hooks readied, and iceâa minimum of 200 pounds worthâis packed onto the boat. The following morning sees a quick fuel-up at the gas station before launch. By sunrise, Ferriman-Denison and her crew may have already motored 25 miles towards the horizon, ready for any and all action.
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Fishing is a study in patience and perseverance, punctuated by bouts of frenzied activity. Though the thrill of cranking poles and landing big fish fuels the passion, itâs the long spells of sea-based solitude that soothe the soul. âBeing on the water gives me the sense of being one with the water,â Ferriman-Denison says. âItâs my happy place, whether I am catching fish or not.â Echoes Rohr, âI can leave the worries of land behind.â
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In spite of setbacks throughout the past century, island albatross colonies, including the rookery at Kaâena Point, are growing once again.
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Text by Travis Hancock Images by Josiah Patterson
Whether you walk it from Keawaâula Beach on Oâahuâs west side or MokulÄâia on the North Shore, the shadeless path to Kaâena Point Natural Area Reserve is likely to feel long and hot. Kaâena, after all, means âthe heat.â But you have to go all the way to the end and through the protective fencing if you want to see the areaâs preeminent drawcardâthe mÅlÄ«, or Laysan albatrosses, that nest there. Standing knee-high, the native, snowwhite birds with ashy wings are known for their elaborate courtship dances, in which they repeatedly bob, bow, click their beaks, and jab them skyward, squawking with shrill vibratos. All mÅlÄ« that start their lives at Kaâenaâ one of the speciesâ 16 known breeding colonies in the worldâreliably return here from the furthest reaches of the North Pacific each November to dance, breed, and lay a single egg that will hatch in February and, should the chick survive, fledge by July. So if you get tired along the hike, if your legs ache and you feel parched, consider the fact that the average mÅlÄ« has traveled at least a thousand miles to reach this protected place. Some of the adolescent birds setting their webbed feet down on Kaâenaâs sandy soil may have been away from dry land, having rested only at sea, for up to five years.
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As a species, mÅlÄ« have figuratively come even further to cross paths with you. Listed as ânear threatenedâ by the International Union for Conservation of Nature, Phoebastria immutabilis only recently ascended from a century of devastating turbulence bookended by two remarkably similar atrocities, both of which became international causes célÚbres.
The first tragedy befell the birds at the start of the 20th century. In late 1909, the American cutter Thetis was sent to the Northwestern Hawaiian Islands to enforce President Rooseveltâs new executive order protecting the areaâs indigenous birds. Their target was KauÅ, or Laysan Island, the 2-squaremile home of many native species and a mining operation established in the 1890s to source fertilizer ingredients from seabirdsâ solidified manure, or guano. Upon arrival at KauÅ, the crew discovered a group of Japanese workers using the islandâs few wooden buildings not for guano processing, but for the packaging of albatross feathers destined for international millinery markets. The island was peppered with the spoils of the poachersâ harvestâthousands of piles of albatross carcasses, the breasts of which had been plucked clean. In most cases, the birdsâ wings had been cut off,
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too. Thetisâ crew rounded up 15 of the poachers on KauÅ and eight on nearby PapaâÄpoho and brought them to Honolulu. They also brought evidence, reported by one newspaper to be 259,000 bird skins and wings, two and a half tons of baled feathers, and several large cases and boxes of stuffed birds. A follow-up biological survey conducted by the U.S. Department of Agriculture in 1911 counted 180,000 mÅlÄ« on KauÅ, and estimated that the poachers had killed at least 200,000 in less than one year.
For months, Honolulu newspapers filled columns with stories born in the wake of the crewâs mission. But nothing came of the spectacle. The poachers faced up to six months in prison, a $500 fine (worth about $12,000 today), and a grand jury trial, but were completely cleared for being mere âinstrumentsâ of higher powers, namely their Tokyo employer, Genkichi Yamanouchi, and the âKing of Laysan,â Max Schlemmer. A naturalized American citizen from Germany, Schlemmer had started the guano company, brokered the labor deal with Yamanouchi, and pretended not to know they had forgone guano for feathers. Schlemmer was indicted, but the charges were dropped on a technicality. The Thetis returned
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to the leeward islands to pursue Yamanouchiâs ships, but returned empty-handed. All told, the Hawaiian Star reported, the only punishment that any of the involved parties faced was served by the poachers: âtwentyfour hours in jail with costs remitted.â
Laysan Island is the English namesake of the Laysan albatross, but its current colony of about 150,000 breeding pairs is actually second in size to the rookery at Midway Atoll, which boasts more than 500,000 pairs. By contrast, Kaâena Pointâs colony, with about 100 nests, is tiny. Because it is so small, the senseless loss of 15 adults and 17 eggs
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to a savage teenage romp in 2015 sent an acute and sustained sting through island communities. Following the arrest of three local high school students, waves of residents blared their outrage, whileâjust as in 1910â the news media had a field day. Two of the offenders were minors, tried privately in family court, while the one 18-year-old perpetrator was handed a 45-day prison sentence, a $1,000 fine, and 200 hours of community service.
In December 2017, exactly two years after the Kaâena incident, conservationists relocated 21 eggs from a Kauaâi military training area
to Kaâena Point. Arriving amid the Makahiki season that celebrates the god Lono, the eggs carried a healing symbolism for Hawaiians who view mÅlÄ« as Lonoâs kino lau, or physical manifestation. At the end of the season, many a breeding pair hatched ashy brown puffballs, that by late summer, will fledge into whitebreasted giants with characteristic streaks of gray around their large eyes. If you can, try to make the hike in time. You just might see one spread its freshly feathered wings to a full six feet, catch the warm breeze, and ride the heat beyond the blue horizon.
Watering Minds
Lessons learned in his youth at PÅkaâÄ« Bay continue teaching educator Abe Nahulu how to care for his community.
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Text by Kate Mykleseth Images by Morgan Halas
Almost every weekend until Abe Nahulu was in the eighth grade, he and his three younger brothers would fish or dive off Oâahuâs west coast. Other times, they would watch mÅ«, ulua, and humuhumunukunukuÄpuaâa swim beneath their surfboards in PÅkaâÄ« Bay. âObserve the fish,â his father would say when out on the water with his sons. âTheyâll teach you everything you need to know.â
The lessons that Nahulu gleaned all those years ago are still with him today in his work as a 38-year-old teacher at Ka Waihona o Ka Naâauao Public Charter School in Waiâanae, and as a football coach at NÄnÄkuli High School. âFishing gave me a sixth sense, allowing me to observe my students and understand whatâs going on,â says Nahulu, whose family has roots that go back four generations on Oâahuâs West Side. Raised as ââohana (family) in the old way,â Nahulu saw how his elders took care of their neighbors, and were always ready to share. Often, after returning from a long dayâs work, Nahuluâs granduncle William grabbed his spearfishing gear and headed back out to catch meals for families in need. His aunties and uncles opened up their homes to strangers, splitting their freshest catches with them.
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Watering Minds
This pilina, or union, to the area gives Nahulu a sense of responsibility. âIâm just trying to find ways to improve our community, and I think the best way is through our kids,â he says. Nahulu recalls a quote by Hawaiian poet Puanani Burgess that he first heard in 2008: âIf youâre planning for one year, plant kalo; if youâre planning for 10 years, plant koa; if youâre planning for a hundred years, teach the children.â
As the junior varsity head football coach at NÄnÄkuli High School, Nahulu emphasizes building disciplined contributors to the community. As such, the players are required to volunteer. This, Nahulu says, helps them âto think not only of themselves, open their horizon, and know that their actions and choices affect everybody.â
Just as certain schools of fish showed Nahulu and his brothers that larger fish were nearby, he hopes the players he coaches will inspire other students who come after them, showing them the path to post-secondary education. âThis summer, weâve been blessed with the help from five former NÄnÄkuli alumni from our football program who currently attend college,â Nahulu says. Some of these players participated in a question-and-answer session with the students, sharing their experiences of life after high school.
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In both teaching and coaching, Nahulu focuses on respect, patience, and compassion, talking to his students about how to do things the pono, or right, way. Respect is also a high priority for Nahulu when coaching, and he and the other coaches have sacrificed wins in order to preserve this. He cites a time when two starting middle linebackers were benched after not wearing the necessary padding on the field, which disregarded safety requirements. âOur defense was left wide open,â Nahulu says. âCastle [High School] ended up coming back and beating us 20 to 18.â
Although Nahulu doesnât fish as frequently as he once did, he does apply some of the techniques he learned from his father to the classroom. âIâm constantly rotating the type of bait, or lesson delivery, to see which one gets them to bite,â he says. If the kids arenât hooked, he returns to his tackle box, just like when he used limu to catch fish off the shore of Ulehawa Beach Park. Eventually, his students engage, but, like fishing, Nahulu says, it takes âplenty patience.â
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Image by Josiah Patterson
âThe ocean is this big equalizing moment. Your body goes into a state of clarity. Youâre now seeing and hearing things that youâd normally be distracted from on land.â
Duane DeSoto, waterman, founder of NÄ Kama Kai
Image
Kainoa Reponteby
VI
Duane DeSoto: Water Cycles
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As told to Matthew Dekneef Images by
John Hook
Iâve always been bound to the water. When I was about 3 years old, my mom strapped a leash on my hand from a boogie board and let me play in the shorebreak at MÄkaha. Right around then, I also got my first surfboard. A year later, I did my first surf contest, Aunty Rell Sunnâs Menehune Surf Contest in Haleâiwa. Finally, at 8 years old, I was allowed to ride my bicycle to the beach to surf on my own.
The ocean became my sanctuary. It became a place to run away from life, to just live in the moment and in that elementâthat was a hugely positive thing for me. At 16 years old, I started doing pro events in longboarding. At the time, my mom didnât want me to be a professional surfer; she wanted me to go to college and everything else. It was a big weight on my shoulders, but it motivated me: I said I was going to be a pro surfer, and I became one.
Over time, I had seven children. All I want for them to be is one with the ocean. I want them to know it and to have it as part of their life as they ageâturn to it as a source of wellbeing that helps them mentally,
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physically, and spiritually. To be one with the ocean means to have your eyes and ears open, waiting to hear and see and feel what it wants to tell you that day. When youâre out there in the water, the rest of the world is irrelevant. When youâre in the water, you spend most of your time being in the moment, because the ocean fully surrounds you. The ocean is this big equalizing moment. Your body goes into a state of clarity. Youâre now seeing and hearing things that youâd normally be distracted from on land. Iâve been in the ocean for 36 years, but every time I get in it, I still learn something new, notice a detail I didnât see before, picking up more knowledge. Collecting, collecting, collecting.
My kids have all been raised in NÄ Kama Kai, a nonprofit organization I started six years ago. It was important for me to create islandwide programming for underserved keiki because, after traveling all over the world for surfing since I was 16 and seeing all these great places, I began to realize a lot of our community members donât leave their own little towns. They remain isolated to where they are, sometimes fearful of people from other parts of the island. And our children are not getting the privilege of living beside the ocean that people from around the world think they do. Everyone thinks everyone from Hawaiâi is a good surfer or a good swimmer, but the truth is less than 40
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percent of children here know how to swim, and less than that know how to be in the ocean safely.
Weâve grown so much. Itâs amazing. Last year alone we worked with more than 4,100 children and accumulated more than $115,000 worth of volunteer service. Weâve expanded to bringing our free ocean clinics to all six moku, the traditional subdivisions of OâahuâHaleâiwa, WaikÄ«kÄ«, KÄhana, PÅkaâi, âEwa, WaimÄnaloâtwice a year. A big focus for us is helping keiki understand theyâre from this bigger island, not just their own backyard. Itâs important for them to realize that bigger picture at a young age, and the kuleana, or responsibility, we all have to each other and these places. At NÄ Kama Kai, itâs holistic. You learn about culture and ocean safety, and have actual handson experience of both. But you also learn about your responsibilities to the ocean, how to take care of it. You donât just get to play in the ocean and not understand your responsibility to it, yourself, and the environment. Itâs full circle.
A professional surfer from MÄkaha, Duane DeSoto is the founder and CEO of NÄ Kama Kai, a nonprofit organization that brings ocean-based safety and conservation programs to Hawaiâiâs youth. Learn more about their ocean clinics at nakamakai.org.
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MAâO Farms: Digging Deep
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Introduction by Rae Sojot
Text and images by Colsen Kaâpiliâenamekealohapuânihipauâole Balai
Tucked away in Waiâanaeâs Lualualei Valley, MAâO Farms is more than a teaching and learning farm. An acroynym for Mala âAi âÅpio, or youth food garden, it is an opportunity for a better life. The farmâs Youth Leadership Training program supports academic and entrepreneurial growth by giving young adults college tuition support, a monthly stipend, and firsthand job experienceâlike helping to operate Maâoâs Community Service Agriculture elementâ while working at the farm.
Colsen KÄpiliâenamekealohapÅ«nihipauâole Balai initially joined the Youth Leadership Training program as a pragmatic means to pay for higher education. But the takeaway has been equally rich: âIn my time at MAâO, I feel I have developed a greater understanding and appreciation of the work that it takes to produce food,â he says.
MAâO Farms draws from its Hawaiian value of aloha âÄina, working closely with the land, a practice integral to the understanding that if the land is nourished, so too will the people around it. Students like Balai are examples of such belief: In this supportive, nurtured setting, they, like the plants they tend, take root, and flourish.
More info at maoorganicfarms.org.
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Day in the Life at MAâO Farms with Colsen
Every day on the farm at 6 a.m. we begin our day by chanting, âE ho mai,â a traditional Hawaiian chant, as grounding to prepare for the work ahead. While in the circle, farmers are briefed on what must be done and any upcoming events. On this day, we will work outside in the fields.
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We use a knife to manage the weeds in a bed. We burn the soil beds to eliminate any weed seed that might compete with crops and their growth.
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We connect with our roots, while picking roots.
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Washing American parsley can sometimes be a pain.
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I wash the soil off some pak choi.
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Boss isnât amused with the pictures. ããã¹ãã¯åçãæ°ã«å ¥ããªãããã§ãã
We pack the produce to send it directly to stores and restaurants.
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At the end of the day at 1 p.m., we circle up once again to discuss the workday and debrief.
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Pashyn Santos: The Comedian
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Text by Rae Sojot Illustrationby
Mitchell Fong
Pashyn Noheamakanaonalani
Santos always knew she would be an entertainer.
A proud Hawaiian girl, her relatable style of humor, which draws upon her cultural identity and upbringing in MÄâili, Waiâanae, has made her an internet sensation with more than half a million followers across her social media platforms. Her two most famous video sketches and characters, âLocal Maddahsâ and âPidgin Siri,â continue to make the digital rounds for their hilarious and pitchperfect observations about the all-toofamiliar parenting techniques of Hawaiâi moms and the epic fail that can result when using iPhoneâs voice recognition software with a thick local accent.
Here, Santos translates a comedic bit about Hawaiâiâs most famous, if not sometimes frustratingly hard to decipher, Pidgin wordââda kineââinto a comic strip exclusively for Hale.
Follow Santos on Instagram at @pashyn and Youtube at youtube.com/user/pashyn.
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Mahina
shopmahina.com @mahinakoolina (808) 773-7071
Conveniently located in Ko Olina Center, Mahina is like shopping in your most fashion-forward friendâs closet: a perfectly edited collection of soft, breezy sundresses, stylish tops, and subtle-yet-striking accessories. We firmly believe in the philosophy of good vibes and the spirit of aloha, which to us means that the more positive energy we radiate into the world, the more love, kindness, and happiness comes back in return. We put our words into practice by charging a fair price for our merchandise, by treating our employees and customers with kindness and friendliness, ultimately considering them our âohana, or family. Stop by your local Mahina to experience this unique shopping experience. Additional locations on Oâahu, Maui, Hawaiâi Island, and Kauaâi.
Pizza Corner
pizzacornerhawaii.com (808) 380-4626
Inspired by legendary New York City pizzerias, this family-owned restaurant specializes in hand-tossed thin crust pizza with ingredients made fresh on premises daily. Pizza Corner offers traditional and not so traditional toppings for visitors and residents for dine-in, take-away, or delivery. Save time by ordering online, and your pizza will be ready for pick up!
Image by Melody Revnak