As I open, then walk through the gates, it feels like I’m going
back to the time of our kupuna. Here, there is no trash! Here there are
no dirt bikes, ATVs or trucks. I see the m l , flying freely over the
cliffs and the ocean. The koa’e kea squawk and call out to each other
while they search for caves to build their nests.
As I look along the beach, I see four ‘ lioholoikauaua (including
one pup) sprawled out across the beach. Watching the monk seals makes
me tired, and I drift off to sleep in the shade of the naupaka.
I dream of many wa’a off-shore. They are paddling back to land
with mahimahi and ulua to share with their people. There is no plastic
floating in the ocean. On land, there are no roads, only footpaths. The
air is filled with the sounds of ancient oli, thanking the gods for
providing food for the day.
It’s here in her essay that Kate wakes from her dream.
But — was it a dream? Kate, who wants to be a writer, marine
biologist or environmental scientist, figures it was a message from a land crying for her help.
-- Jade Moon, MidWeek. 7/9/14
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