“Islanded.” That’s a word I did not use until I settled on Kauai. It’s a simple word, actually the simple past tense and past participle of the verb form of the word “island.” If you live on a large continent, it’s not a word you have occasion to use.
Before I added that word to my vocabulary, as a malihini, newcomer, I thought about the change that was occurring in my outlook as I made this island my home. The most obvious change, of course, was that the body of water surrounding me was far greater than the land beneath my feet. Except within the most interior valleys of this island, the views “out” are seaward over great expanses of blue toward the horizon.
I became highly aware that I was living on a comparative “speck” of land some 2,500 miles from the Baja coast off Southern California, and about 3,000 to 5,000 miles from anywhere else (that is, discounting other Hawaiian islands and the islands and shoals northwest of Kauai.)
I experienced the more-apparent mini-climates, the morning, afternoon and evening showers. Living near Nawiliwili Harbor and valley, I soon learned not to peg out washing when Ha‘upu Mountain wore her cloud papale (hat).
As the planes zoomed in to land, as the barges arrived heavily laden with automobiles and building supplies and great Matson containers of goods, and as these goods were hauled out for their individual deliveries by the rumbling freight trucks, I realized how dependent we are on food and supplies being shipped in from elsewhere. This realization connected with why our shops and companies at times can’t deliver their advertised sales specials when the goods promised are delayed in transit.
Being on a circular island, I rid myself of the inner square grid of mainland big cities, adjusting to think mauka (mountainward) and makai (seaward) during explorations as far around and interior on existing roads and trails as possible.
I loved it that the roads had names that were used, instead of just letters and numbers; that, once recognized, you received a personalized greeting in shops and your friendly U.S. post office; that you could greet the sun at the beach, get plenty of sand between your toes and then be showered and reporting for work “in town” when the business day began; that you sometimes found signs hastily hung on a locked door saying, “Family Funeral — sorry” (how could you be miffed?); that other drivers gave over and let you into a busy traffic stream; and that the aloha spirit was alive in uncountable, subtle ways during your day, refreshing as the tradewinds.
By the time the late son of Kauai, artist and poet Reuben Tam, gave me the word “islanded,” I was more than ready for it. Consequently, I named the anthology of Kauai writers and artists published through my small literary press, “Now We Are Islanded Together.” In that 1987 collection centered on the subject of being islanded, Tam’s poem, “We Live by the Sea,” was first in the collection. Here, the fourth verse:
“Your island gleams in the tilt of morning / and reef by reef the archipelagoes of Oceania rise, / the red shoals of Polynesia and the atolls of Micronesia / and the salt wind, as each islander wakes to his intimate sea.”
Those words and all they represent have come back to mind fully after seeing parts one and two of the Vaka Taumako Project’s “We, the Voyagers.” These fine films were on view free and well-attended at the Kauai Community College fine arts auditorium the last two Thursday evenings. Dr. Marianne “Mimi” George and VTP Secretary Heu‘ionalani Meph Wyeth hosted the showings.
George, “anthropologist and sailor” as she introduces herself and the film, offers interesting insights into the film and its making, which took 26 years from concept to screening. George, the principal investigator, briefly outlines how she first arrived on the Solomon Island of Taumaka in 1993 with her associate, the late David Lewis (author of “We, the Navigators”).
The film pulls the audience back in time, impressing upon viewers how the late chief navigator of the Solomons, Taumako’s Chief Kaveia, had had the foresight to request a camera that could document the process of constructing a Solomon Islands-type vessel, called TePuke, from log-cut to launch, showing how it could sail between islands without benefit of GPS or sextant, using wind in its crescent-moon sail.
The chief wanted documentation to be in English so it could be shown around the world, and this was before he or anyone else on his island had owned even the most simple box camera.
This was an amazingly deep-thinking and clever man. I especially like that he said that the first thing that had to be done if his community wanted to build a TePuke was to plant a garden. Why? Because there had to be plenty of food to share in a great feast, so everyone would be well-fed and happy, ready to work together in harmony.
Fortunately, a great deal of the knowledge the chief held was captured on film that has now been included in this fascinating voyaging series.
When Kaveia “joined his ancestors” in 1998, a new voyaging TePuke had been constructed on his island using the willing hands of all the inhabitants of Taumako, and a crew was being trained to sail using the wind-positioning system that is explained within the second film — a very different system than the one based on the traditional put into use in Hawaii for crews of the Hokule‘a, as George explained.
Vaka Taumako Project members have recently shown the video “We, the Voyagers: Part 1, Our Vaka,” to enthusiastic audiences in California, British Columbia, Washington state and New Zealand, and now parts 1 and 2 (“Lata’s Children”) to us. Further showings are planned on the mainland and in Hawaii this fall.
For information on schedules, and to request other presentations, check the website www.vaka.org, or Vaka Taumako on Facebook. This is a wonderful way to get/stay “islanded” and help to support an important navigational project of the Pacific Traditions Society, The Lata Voyaging School.
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Dawn Fraser Kawahara, resident author and poet, has focused her supportive interests within the Kauai community since the early 1980s. She and her husband, a retired biology teacher, live in Wailua homesteads and share a passion for books and travel. Kawahara’s books are available through Amazon and other outlets. For information, email tropicbirdpress@gmail.com.
