Kapahulu- Flames at her luʻau feet…

Barry enters the living room of Kaika's home in Kapahulu.

KAIKA- Eh, howzit Bruddah Barry, just in time for dinner, Mama K. is trying this new recipe called lu'au stew, smells 'ono already , I just gotta make da rice. Maybe you can listen to this paragraph I wrote for my school  report about my 'ohana on the Big Island. I'm not sure if this sounds like I wrote it, or the nice-looking young wahine who works at the check-out desk in the library. She wen help me plenty with the sentences and she liked my story. You ready to hear it?

BARRY-Eh, Kaika, my brain's kinda fried, I gotta correct grammar and spelling or what?

KAIKA- No, just listen. (Kaika stands up and faces the audience, reading from his notes.)
Tutu is standing on the beach in front of her house, quietly looking south to the 'ena'ena- red glow in the sky. Her profile is so small and fragile, using her koa stick to support her bird-like form, the usual tight knot of hair on her head is coming undone, her long, purple mu'umu'u is blowing in the wind like the flag on the pole at school. It was purple and glossy. Kalapana is on fire.People are yelling hysterically  at their kids, dogs bark in fear of the looming light and heat, the unknown , the Madame, like they've never seen her before, in their own backyard. Not even Uncle Kapunahele's fearless pig-hunting dogs have known or faced this fear. Instead of their usual incessant barking, they cower and squeal behind him. There was so much going on, it was an invitation to chaos. The invasive smell of salt and smoke mingle in the strong sea breezes blowing from Ka'u side, not exactly like kalua pig pa'ina day, a different kind of salt and smoke,destructive, not inviting to the senses.
 Uncle comes tearing out of the house saying, Ma, come back in da house, she going come get you too you know! We gotta pack da rest of your tings in da boxes! Cannot forget da important pepas! 

KAIKA-So what Barry, sound like I wrote 'em? Or sound  more like da good-looking librarian wrote 'em? Neva mind, dey going figga da whole ting out one day. Anyway, dis next part is my writing. So back to my story.Tutu is still staring out somewhere, at what we don't know, almost like she's in one trance. Well,that's what Aunty Nani said when she told us this story a few summers ago. One real trance, like the old kupuna used to go into long time ago, in Old Hawai'i times. When only they knew what was happening. Almost like they were reading one different  newspaper from da rest of us guys, with different headlines. They called it wanana,looking into the future. 

BARRY- What made Aunty Nani tell that story? Did Pele take Tutu's house that night?

To be continued…

Talk story

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