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| Non-Profit Refuge for Nene Goose |
MORNING AT BIRD REFUGE
We take vans to Nene O Molokai, a local sanctuary for the State Bird of Hawaii, the nene goose. It is endangered primarily due to habitat destruction.
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| Nene Goose. Female. Segregated. |
We learn at the nene refuge that nene are not the nicest of birds. They separate females and males in different enclosures; the males have such vicious sex they sometimes end up killing the females.
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| Injured Pacific Golden Plover |
A Pacific Golden Plover is also enclosed because they found him injured; healthy ones migrate to Alaska from Hawaii.
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| Hawaiian Stilt Bird |
Another native bird, the Hawaiian stilt bird, is slowly coming back. Three flew into the refuge pond.
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| Imported Pond Lilies |
We enjoy a mostly-native garden out back at ocean-side, where some plants (beach vitex) capture sand to build dunes.
(Palm trees, which you see in many photos of Hawaii, are not native. Nor are mangroves, which are exotic invasives.)
Without a reference book or use of the internet this week, I cannot tell you the names of these native plants.
HALAWA VALLEY
I
think of my sisters, Judy and Sally, when C. drives us capably to Halawa
Valley. Reminds me a bit of Corfu, where us three sisters went last
April.
On the road I learn that Hawaiians teach their babies to surf at 12 months old. C.’s grandson is a professional surfer who represents Molokai in competitions. He goes to the best surfing beaches at 5 AM.
Very windy cliff-side roads with many switch-backs are perilously close to the ocean but C. is well-acquainted with these roads. Volcanic smog (VOG) makes a grayish hue.
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| Flowers I Saw in the Valley |
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| Part of Boxed Lunch |
After a boxed lunch in the Halawa Valley, we learn much historical/cultural information from Pilipo Solatorio and his son, Greg. Halawa Valley is the oldest recorded habitation site on Molokai, dating from about 650 A.D.
When a massive tsunami hit in 1946, it pretty much destroyed agricultural activities but, miraculously, no one died there. Pilipo cries when he remembers the wall of water that came to his home. Pilipo’s grandfather took him to a spit of land where his ancestors were buried; thousands of bones were exposed. His grandfather wept and wept.
Pilipo
Andrew (our fearless leader) and I (a Road Scholar volunteer) give an offering to the elder of this valley (Pilipo). We seal our friendship by touching foreheads and noses and breathing out our breaths into each other.
Spiritual breath (ha) comes from the nose.
I Exchange Breaths with Pilipo
Breath from the mouth is not valued highly because words can lie. The packet of offering is home made bread, wrapped in tea leaves. Pilipo wears those special leaves around his neck also since they sanctify the person and event.
Greg demonstrates mashing cooked taro root into poi, which is quite tasty and nutritious.
He uses ancient pounders and a very old board. Poi is put into baby food because it’s easy to digest and nourishing.
Afterward, we walk along a trail to an organic nursery where we enjoy luscious smoothies with home-grown bananas, papaya, guava, and lilikoi (passion fruit).
Hawaiian passion fruit is much larger and tastier than the type in my back yard.
I take photos of trail-side flowers I can’t identify.
PA'INA
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| Auntie Noe Hosts Us |
When we return to our boat we shower and prepare for a very special event at the Molokai Museum: a pa’ina. Tourist hotels and restaurants hold huge, impersonal luaus. This event is personal, just for us; like a family celebration for a baby’s birth, or honoring someone who just died.
The Museum is beautifully decorated by Auntie Noe (younger than I am) and her relatives. Andrew, Brian, and Joyce who were born and raised in Hawaii proclaim they had never, ever been served such a beautiful, varied, and extensive array of food.
Before dinner is served, I look more carefully at the photographs, so very important to families of those who had to stay, isolated, on the Molokai peninsula. And, of course, we also survey the gift shop. All this, while gorgeous smells come from the kitchen. I purchase black lava salt for Toni and I to put on corn. Should be dramatic -- black salt on yellow kernels. Only a small suitcase holds me back from other purchases.
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| "Our" Quilters Love This Quilt |
Brian and Andrew hold up a stunning quilt (quilting is really big in Hawaii) of the old sugar mill that is part of the museum. A joint effort by several women, the stitching is incredible. Hawaiian quilts are not angular; the stitching follows the graceful designs of the scenery or figures. Several quilters in our group come up in awe to see the tight perfection.
Before eating, three local musician-educators, sing the Hawaiian version of the doxology. I join in as an alto to the familiar melody, faking the words. Gratitude fills our hearts.
“We eat dessert first in Hawaii,” says Auntie Noe. So we had papaya and other fruits first, then guava cake last. I just love this place!
The menu includes imu kalua puaa. The pig, cooked underground, was left over from Noe’s relative’s going-home (funeral) pa’ina two days before.
Her nephew was able to provide “only” two fish caught this morning.
I eat ahi poke (raw tuna, with seaweed) and raw crab. We get directions on how to eat the bits of crab: chew it up, suck out the juice, and spit out the shell. I did it; tasty.
I also enjoy three kinds of poi, a chopped tomato/salmon dish like salsa, squid luau (octopus in coconut milk), chicken long rice (a Chinese dish), two kinds of fish, seaweed, and fiddlehead salad.
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| My Plate |
Altogether about 22 different kinds of food. Amazing, isn’t it?
While we eat, the musician-educators accompany Noe’s niece, an award-winning hula dancer. Traditionally, hula was danced only by men.
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