June 29, 2010 (I was 65)
From a balcony on the 5th floor of Keauhou Beach Hotel overlooking tidal pools, fish pond, restored heiau and lava coastline:
A native cultural activity is in progress, a small group, most moved like locals. They brought bundles of green reeds into the water to soak, then pounded them with rocks at the shoreline. They peeled them lengthwise into long strips. Two young Hawaiian girls washed an assortment of gourds inside and out and left them on the grass in the sun. The man leading the group, guiding what they did, was possibly the young girls’ father. As for guidance, the group though mostly haoles, needed little, and each was soon engaged in their particular task in proximity to the others, but with plenty of individual workspace. None of them saw me smoking on one high balcony among so many others.
At one point the leader, lying prone on the lava with his lips near the water’s edge, seemed to stare into an opening or possibly into the tidal pond. Then his quiet voice could easily be heard chanting Hawaiian syllables even at my three to four hundred yard distance. I realized his voice was resonating through a chain of mini lava tubes. Some from the group lay with ears on the rock, obviously to experience the reverberating acoustic effect.
The chanting ended, some settled into serious braiding and weaving with their strands of reed. Others tired of the project or the heat and wandered off with their materials. The leader carried his stuff up the lawn past some hammocks toward the parking lo-. Did I forget to mention the interesting feeding display among the schools of tropical fish in the clear tidal pond directly beneath me? I must have been preoccupied.
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