The Life of the Sea

The Life of the Sea

Bougainvillea on the Veranda

There were memories here, at once potent and nostalgic, that led my mind through a maze of forgotten places and times. I had been walking up the mountainside from the University of Hawaii at Manoa, when I saw the sunlight rise and peer over the verandas of the old houses that sat above the fray of crowded urban developments, valleys and cliffs.

Here, the bougainvillea lined the fronts of homes and verandas, in an array of violets, magentas and light oranges, its petals flimsy and wisp-like in the Summer sun. From the horizon in the distance, the tides began to swell. They creeped up towards the city streets, and began to wash away the beachside hotels and cars, until the entire island almost felt like it was sinking back into the sea.

New Flowers in the Spring

Spring had arrived and in the light of the afternoon, one could almost catch a glimpse of the angelfish and zebra fish swimming beneath the roots of mangrove trees that had planted themselves over the remnants of Magic Island beach park.

For a while, when I was in my 20’s, I recall watching the young tourists taking honeymoon photos at this beach park. It was a favorite of commercial photographers.

I recall that I had been in love once. The shade of the bougainvillea covered his eyes, leaving only a slim silhouette as he walked towards the horizon, never looking back, because he was someone who did not dwell on the past.

For a while, we sat together, watching the sun set on the “new” Honolulu and drank coffee at the University cafe. I recall the Spring flowers growing along that beach park and bringing new life to the decays of our early love.

Ships in the Harbor

From the harbour where I had first arrived in Honolulu, there was a fleet of black ships pulled up to the piers. Their sound was ominous, smog flowing into the canals, and carried no signal of retreating. This is where the first stages of the “new Hawaii” was born.

In the absence of faith, the locals became divided about how they planned to deal with the new intruders, who had forced them to open their doors for foreign trade.

Sarah recalls that she had only been twelve years old then, with thick black hair and a stout figure, sitting along the piers and watching as the ships lit smoke and fire over the downtown business district. Some people wanted to blame the Chinese locals, some wanted to blame the government. There was unrest, distrust and even ambition.

Times had changed, and no civilization lasted forever – not America, and not China. And as the years went by, capitalism had begun to collapse, changing the world, and creating a place where only love could lead the way.

A New Dawn

Jake had left by the time Sarah turned 30. She recalls celebrating her birthday with friends. There was a cake with strawberries inside, candles and roses. There were a couple friends and family in an empty restaurant. Sarah recalls that Jake had gone to the mainland to go to war. He was someone who could not accept the changing times, and eventually it led to his disappearance from Sarah’s life.

Sarah recalls the day he said goodbye, and the day that she began to start a new life away from the commotions of news and current events. She wanted to record history rather than fight it, in hopes that those records would outlast the changing times, perhaps forever.

There was a blue gemstone that Jake had left her, which she had discarded into a bin on her shelf with hair ties and old souvenirs. Eventually, those belongings gathered dust, until they became a time capsule of a happier age.

Duty Free Shopping

There was a Chinese woman that Sarah had met through her mother. She worked at the Duty-Free in Waikiki as a sales girl and an attendant. She had been an actress for many years in Beijing, when a new man came into her life and brought her the promise that she could leave it all behind and move with him to Hawaii.

The man had exaggerated those dreams to her, and they died once the couple reached America without education or a penny to their names. The marriage fell apart, and she turned to commissions at the luxury stores to make a living.

This woman, Stella, loved to wear mascaras and perfume, and dreamed an American dream in a world where she didn’t belong. People didn’t like her because she was poor, and because America should only accept the best and brightest.

In the year of Covid-19, Stella died by drowning in the cliffs of Makapu’u. She had been hiking with some friends when she fell from the cliffs and met her end.

The Duty-Free where she worked was now closed, alongside many of the other shops in Waikiki that had once been a main attraction for tourists. Her death was broadcast on the local news. After that, Stella became only a memory.

What line do we stand upon, when from here it looks the same, and only scars remain.