Hawaiian Healing

Yesterday was my first day back after my two-week trip to Hawaii. I spent New Year's Eve in Nørrebro, and the sounds of missiles and explosions could be heard as Copenhagen unleashed its usual New Year's Eve firework madness. It sounds like what I imagine a war zone to sound like & I’ve never been too fond of that. But, sitting inside, away from the brunt of the noise (and the cold) I could actually even venture to say that it was a bit, well, cozy? Or maybe I've just been here too long? As long as I am not outside, I'm fine: Drunken people and fireworks do not mix.

Hawaii was amazing. Landing on Big Island was the perfect reward for what could otherwise be called an excruciatingly long trip. We left Tuesday morning, flew to Zurich, then to British Columbia, Los Angeles and finally Big Island.
Landing in Los Angeles rather late, I unfortunately didn’t get to hook up with friends there. One friend did make it out to our hotel though. I think the last time I saw Jason Smalls was when he was last here in Denmark, and that was a long time ago. Jason is originally from Los Angeles and was part of the Flux gang in Williamsburgh. Jason has decided to enlist in the U.S. Military.

I remember once wanting to join the military. I was in high school and considered it a career option, especially because there was the promise of the Army paying your college tuition fees. It didn’t take me long to do the math though, cause in the end, if you are in the military, and there is a war…
It was also during high school that I became aware of non-violent activism and pacifism. I hooked up with the War Resisters League and handed out anti-war toys pamphlets at the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade. The whole idea was to make others aware of how the toy and the movie industry promoted war. I learned how much tax dollars went to the U.S. military as opposed to education or even healthcare for that matter, and became enamored by the phrase drop bread, not bombs. My experience at the War Resisters League was eye-opening because it gave me yet another perspective and introduced me to activism. I met some amazing people there, most notably Carl Bissinger, a white-haired gentle soul with whom a friendship blossomed throughout many years in various downtown cafes. Carl was a devoted communist, and he would tell me about his passive resistance, life as a gay man who was once heterosexually married, and how he could not get used to the face that peered back at him in the mirror, “I just don’t feel as old as I look!” He would tell me stories of photographing a young James Baldwin in his downtown Manhattan apartment, and how fascinated by Baldwin he was. Through the dilapidated offices of WRL, where I would show up to stuff mail, handle orders or attend meetings and the friendship that flourished between Carl and myself, I was ushered quite gently into another reality of New York City living: progressive, open and hopeful. It was at WRL that I not only gained a political awareness, but human as well. I was actually in the presence of people whose politics made me think.

My life has always been punctuated by instability—moving out of necessity so much so that staying one place has now become a challenge. But there are few things from my past that act as anchors for my memories and WRL and Carl Bissinger certainly play that role. By the time I had emerged from WRL I was convinced that the U.S. Military was unfairly targeting the lower-income segment of society where opportunities and money are scarce. Join the army? Sure, was the mentality, that way I can go to college and be guaranteed a career. This was probably what prompted Sam, a student of the college I attended, to join the military to begin with, something he would later regret at the onset of the Gulf War in the 90s. But by this time, I had started to take a more distant approach to everything, so while many of the school rallied behind the “Hands off Sam!” case, I surprisingly took a back seat and simply observed.

While I was in Hawaii, so was President Obama. I stayed in a little hotel on Big Island, and all of a sudden, I started to notice military men…I felt my body tense up but then I relaxed. The military are people too! And when you think about it, it’s probably one of the shittiest jobs in the world (no offense). Not to mention that these guys were away from their families during the Christmas season…yeah, yeah, I know, they chose it, but again, coming from my analysis of things War is pretty complicated and it's human beings who create it, get caught up in it and in the end, suffer for it. So I changed my attitude and decided immediately to give them all love when I saw them, just a smile or something especially since my boy Jason was now enlisting: I saw him in each of them and that kind helped. That’s not to say that I am pleased with Jason joining the military. He is one of the most talented illustrators I have ever met and pretty intellectually brilliant. I personally think it is a sad state of affairs that for someone like him, the military seems like the only viable option. In his own words, “I can’t see myself taking another stab at corporate America. (Never works for me...something about my tan maybe?)”

While at the hotel, I got a chance to do some laundry. I worked on yet another hat (crochet) while Christian strummed on his guitar. Suddenly a young guy walks in. I could tell from his neat haircut and the way he called me “m’am” that he was in the military. We got to talking and I asked him why he was in Hawaii, “We follow the President wherever he goes. We’re on the planes that follow Air Force One.”
“Have you ever met the President?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“No,” he replied.
He revealed that he was from Arizona (I had coincidentally just been reading about the Hopi) and he revealed that he was reading a book about Che Guevara. “They let you read that in the military?” I was a bit surprised. He told me that he was reading it and the hardest thing was people’s response. “I’m just trying to educate myself,” he told me, “I’m trying to find out about things.” “You know what the hardest thing is about the military is?” He asked me. His face revealed that he was battling a lot of emotions—this guy looked like he really needed to talk, like his soul was in need of help. Like I said, he was young, perhaps in his early 20s (that’s another thing that trips me about the military, most of these people are merely kids!) He continued, “Everyone is just so simple. I mean, it’s like ALL Muslims are bad, or the whole ‘you’re either with us or against us’ mentality. Life isn’t so simple!” I couldn’t tell what this guy’s ethnicity was, so I had to ask about his background. “I’m Mexican,” he revealed. “My mother moved to the United States when I was five years old. She moved away from my dad because he was beating her. She decided to move to the U.S. with five kids. The funny thing is, I was just remembering the other day how they denied us entry into the U.S. that day. There was a big stamp ‘denied’ on our passports, in fact I still have it. But anyway, my mom just took us a little bit down the road and there was this huge hole in the fence. That’s how we came to the U.S. through that hole. I will never forget that day. I’ve visited that spot, and now, it is impossible for anyone to come into the U.S. that way.” We talked about Arizona’s stringent SB 1070 (click here for the actual Senate Bill 1070) and how the last time people were required to walk with papers was Nazi Germany. I ended up telling him about my insistence everything happens for a reason, and that it was precisely what he found to be a challenge the reason why he was there.

That very same day I had the honor of meeting a sprite, 82 year-old woman who worked at the hotel. She sported a beehive and made right for me as soon as she saw me. “Oooh, where did you get that?” She fingered my lei I had bought the previous day. It was not the usual kukui nuts, but made of beads that I recognized from the Caribbean: large, brown, and somewhat disc-shaped with a black trim on the base. We began to talk and she told me about her sister, who had passed away a couple of years before. “She was very beautiful. Big Hawaiian star. Was on Hawaii 5-0.” As we spoke, we looked into each other’s eyes, sustaining a mutual connection. Like so much else in Hawaiian, she reminded me of Trinidad. I wonder what I reminded her of? We both spoke to each other as though we had known each other for years. Before she left me, she confided, “I’m pure Hawaiian, 100%!” I couldn’t help but think of my own grandmother, not that much older than this woman and my grandmother’s own reckoning with Alzheimer. The importance of my seeing her soon became even clearer.

One of the reasons I love Hawaii so much is because it reminds me of Trinidad. I can’t help but be transported to my childhood home when familiar flowers such as hibiscus and passion fruit surround me. In my friend’s 4-acre land, there are breadfruit, jackfruit, orange, mango and banana trees. And saying that, Hawaii is way less hectic than Trinidad: There is more space, less traffic more chill like Tobago.

I spent some time with my girl Angela and her four amazing kids, Ciena, Netai, Addiz and Chintamani. I first met Angela in 1998 and immediately liked her, well, integrity. I felt how strongly she followed her own calling, despite what society dictated. Some examples: Angela gave birth to all four children at home. This is something that truly resonates with me, because although I had wished the same for myself, I ended up surrendering the whole procedure to hospital professionals who, well, let’s just say that my birthing experience can be described as traumatic.

And she’s an amazing cook: while there she played around with the idea of making baklava (do people really chill at their homes and contemplate making baklava?)—well, she did! But the thing that really made an impression on me were her children. All I can say is well done, Angela and Ray: you have some amazing children. They shine. For real. And it was a pleasure being around them.

Some Hawaiian highlights: Seeing my girl Angela, meeting Ciena, Netai, Addiz & Chintamani, going on a trip to see lava with them, hearing Christian and Ben Sands jam, staying at the Hilton in Kona (the dolphins though, that’s another story!), driving around in a convertible, the sun, the Aloha spirit of the people I encountered, visiting the volcano, and the Christmas Day chill!

Anyway, this isn’t the post I had intended on posting. I’ve been wanting to write for days but for one reason or the other, hadn’t the space to do so. As a result, much of my reflections have returned to the sea of my soul and alas! I must await their return upon the shores of my mind! Frustrating indeed, but points only to the fact that 2011 will be the year of travel and writing.

Happy New Year!

Adieu,
the lab