Friday, February 24, 2017

Hoʻi Hou I Ka Iwi Kuamoʻo Blog #20




                                                 Blog #20 Hoʻi Hou I Ka Iwi Kuamoʻo
                                                        Pule 20 (2/12/17-2/18-17)

   Aloha mai e nā maka heluhelu, nā ʻohana, a me nā hoa i piha i ke aloha iā Hōlanikū. Ke noi nei kēia mea kākau i ko ʻoukou hoʻomanawanui a me ka huikala mai i koʻu hoʻouna aku i kaʻu mau puke hoʻomanaʻo me ka lohi. Ua nui nā mea e kau ana i koʻu waihona noʻonoʻo i kēia pule, a ʻaʻole i mōakaaka koʻu mau manaʻo iaʻu e kikokiko ana i kēia wahi puke hoʻomanaʻo. ʻIke au, ke hoʻouka ʻia kēia puke hoʻomanaʻo i ka pūnaewele, e hoʻouka ʻia ʻana kekahi puke hoʻomanaʻo hou i ia manawa hoʻokahi. Eia naʻe, makemake au e mahalo iā ʻoukou no ka maopopo a me ke kākoʻo mau ʻana mai iaʻu. 
   Okay gangeh this weekʻs blog is going to be a bit different. Forgive me for being slow on sending these blogs. By the time I send this one, Iʻll probably have the twenty-first blog all set and ready to go. Yup, I said it - twenty blogs, down! Here on Hōlanikū, we may forget what day of the week it is, but these blogs are one of the things that reminds us how quickly time is flying. Knowing that weʻre getting closer to the end, the countdown begins! 
   I usually talk about da haps with work and stuff, but honestly, Iʻm pretty disappointed that I havenʻt quite shared my experience in the way that I wanted to. For one, writing in English is an extra step I gotta take - even more so with “proper English.” If I were to write in ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi or even pidgin, most of you wouldnʻt understand. The way I see it, a blog should be read as if you could hear the writer actually saying the things theyʻve written. Believe me, if I were to write the way that Iʻd speak, there would be a lot of “brahʻs.” The word “brah” can be used in many ways, and for me, the word “brah” can sum up majority of the feelings that Iʻm trying to express. If you know, you know! Besides that, another thing Iʻm disappointed in is that I focused more on writing we did this or we did that rather than actually sharing what Iʻm really experiencing - emotions, thoughts, observations, etc. I know people are interested in the work that weʻre doing out here, but I honestly think those blogs that I invested my time into shouldʻve just been a Facebook status - which isnʻt what I intended my blogs to become. Through learning only about our work accomplishments or various events that have occurred, you guys have only skimmed the surface, unable to explore the great depths of the trials and tribulations that one may experience out here. Forgive me, but these blogs donʻt really mean much to me if I canʻt share what Iʻm truly experiencing. Besides, it should be no surprise that weʻre getting choke work done since weʻre all hammahs. Foʻ shoa! So here we go. Time to let you all in with da scoops of whatʻs really going on here..
   Having an idea of our departure date has stirred a lot of mixed feelings and emotions. I got a weird sensation in my gut as soon as Eryn read the email about the tentative schedule. At that moment, majority of the things said were “Itʻs too soon!” “Im not ready” or just a big, fat “NOOOO!” As youʻve come to learn through my previous blogs, itʻs no shock that Iʻm heartbroken about leaving such a beautiful place such as Hōlanikū, which has now become home. I knew the time would come, but I didn't expect it to arrive as quickly as it did. If thereʻs no change in the schedule, it means we only have 5 weeks left here. Five weeks to fulfill everything on our work schedule, prepare the island for the Summer crew, and most of all, prepare ourselves for what will definitely be an emotional departure. FIVE WEEKS! Five weeks to soak in as much as we can. As we treat the island one last time, weʻre making it count. One last time to enjoy it, reminisce our previous treatments, and most of all, leave our last impression before the Summer crew arrives. After it all, one can see how much a solid crew of 5 can do. Yeeeeeee ;) 
   Although itʻs sad to be leaving, Iʻm excited to see my ʻohana. Iʻm pretty sure theyʻre just as excited as I am, too. Living in Hilo, a different island from my ʻohana, is nothing compared to being completely isolated like I am out here. The separation definitely helped me grow stronger, mentally and emotionally. Like Iʻve mentioned before, my love and appreciation for my ʻohana has grown much, much deeper. Iā ʻoukou kuʻu aloha pau ʻole! With mixed emotions about returning home, I also found it interesting that a few people, who hadnʻt really come to mind until now, appeared in my dreams all week. It felt like each night there was a new person in my dream. What was even more interesting was that although my relationships with those people werenʻt as perfect before, it was surprisingly good in my dreams. In contrast to how I felt in December, I viewed this event with a different perspective. Rather than fighting my thoughts and memories, I just thought to myself, “Huh, thatʻs interesting.” There must be a reason why these specific people came to mind. With all this anticipation stirring up mixed emotions, Iʻm not only anxious to be returning to my ʻohana, but all the people and memories that Iʻve left behind as well. Itʻs neither good or bad. I just think these dreams are a reminder that there are other people, places, things, and memories that will be expecting my arrival, too. Like I said, itʻs not good or bad. Thereʻs just some verrrrrry interesting stuff going on during this specific time. 
   Well gangeh, that was just a little insight of what Iʻm really experiencing out here on Hōlanikū. I didnʻt get into details, ʻcause this stuff takes time and my brainʻs too fried. But you got da idea, ah? Not only are we investing our time and energy while working on the ʻāina, but weʻre working on ourselves, too. While living out here, we go through some interesting phases or have crazy epiphanies. Overall, weʻre just out here learning many things about ourselves and our surroundings. Letʻs just say, mean kine stuff happen while weʻre out here, truuuuuust! 
   Unlike my previous blogs, I have not one, but two ʻōlelo noʻeau for the week. I also donʻt think I need to wehewehe anything ʻcause itʻs pretty self-explanatory:

“He ʻelele ka moe na ke kanaka” (A dream is a bearer of messages to man) -Ka Puke ʻŌlelo Noʻeau a Pākuʻi #558

“Welo ke aloha i ka ʻōnohi” (Love flutters to and fro before the eyes). Said of a longing to see a loved one whose image is constantly in mind -Ka Puke ʻŌlelo Noʻeau a Pākuʻi #2936 

Mahalo a nui no ke heluhelu ʻana. A hui hou a i kēia pule aʻe. Shoots den menpachissss

Naʻu,
Aulani

Monday, February 13, 2017

Complacency, Delusion, and Acceptance 4th blog by by RJ Roush

Complacency, Delusion, and Acceptance (4th blog)

words by RJ Roush

There's no satisfactory way to illuminate the ranges of emotions we go through while living here on Kure. Being in such a state of isolation, we not only run the gamut of ups and downs, but may experience them more intensely because of the amount of time we are left alone with our thoughts. Without the typical distractions of urban or city life, the mind wanders through recesses that aren't often touched upon; the results can be profound and rewarding.

I'll admit that life on Kure has neither been the easiest for me nor what I expected it to be. I'll preface with the fact that I've been studying birds almost exlusively for the last six years and for me, Kure was like a holy grail of ornithology field jobs. I'd dreamed of coming to the Northwest Hawaiian islands for years and this was my chance to make it happen. I had hopes of studying albatross molt, observing booby colonies, taking seabird diet samples, and mist-netting lesser-studied Storm-petrels even though none of these tasks were explicitly listed in the job description. So, in some senses, I think I had to lie to myself to really take the plunge and commit six plus months to the Kure project. I knew we would be spraying weeds for 90 percent of the time, but I ignored the fact accepted the position with my false concept of how I would be spending my time out here.

And then I got here and I was forced to confront the truth of the situation. I was left feeling like I was cheated, and for the first few months I wasn't sure how to process my thoughts on the subject. I knew there would be hardly any seabird work this season, but I still had to reconcile my false expectations with my reality. I can honestly say that spraying weeds is not how I want to spend most of my time, even if it is for such a grand cause as the seabirds of Kure. I wasn't getting the direct satisfaction that I receive from my usual positions that work directly with birds. I felt horrible for feeling horrible. And when you're in that sort of situation, an isolated mind can easily turn into dangerous spiral of negative thoughts if left unchecked.

Eventually something clicked during one of the many hours I spend in my thoughts. I realized that my expectations were keeping me from seeing the island as it really is. I had grown complacent to the beauty and life that surrounded me and had foolishly taken refuge in my misconceptions. What a pity! What a waste! To let your idea of what something should be blind you from seeing the nature of things around you. Once I acknowledged this chimera and embraced the actuality of my life and time here, it really was like a sort of illumination.

And now if I get those negative feelings again I'm able to realize it quickly, look around, and lighten myself, or rather let the island lighten me. I notice a Bonin Petrel flying around mid day and wonder what it's doing over land rather than foraging at sea. I admire the casual grace that a Ruddy Turnstone has while flying though ripping 40 mph winds. I watch the Kawelu grasses dance like hundreds of whirling dervishes in the saline breeze. I look up from work more often and scan the skies for unique silhouettes in hopes of catching glimpse of a wayward bird of prey. I take pride in the fact that I am here, that this whole team is here, making a difference on an island that many people have never even heard of and most will never see.

So, Kure isn't what I expected it to be and now I'm okay with that, because it's so much more in such a different way. I regret any time I spent brooding in negativity of my own making, but I don't regret any of my time out here. I'm profoundly grateful for this precious time that I've been able to spend here so far. And now that the season feels like it's passing more and more quickly, I wonder how I'll be able to leave such a magical place--this bizarre home we share with so many awe-inspiring creatures of the air and sea.

Tuesday, February 7, 2017

He Milimili Ke Keiki Na Ka Makua - Blog #18

 Blog #18 He Milimili Ke Keiki Na Ka Makua

                                                         Pule 18 (1/29/17-2/4/17)

   Aloha mai e nā maka heluhelu, nā ʻohana, a me nā hoa i piha i ke aloha iā Hōlanikū. Ua hōʻea nō mākou i ka hoʻomaka ʻana o kekahi mahina hou ʻo Pepeluali. I ka Poʻakahi, ua piha ka mahina ʻehā o ko mākou noho ʻana i ʻaneʻi. Mau nō ka holo ʻana o ka manawa me ka wikiwiki! Ke ulu aʻe nei nā pua makamae o nā mōlī a me nā kaʻupu i puka mai nā hua i ʻelua pule aku nei. He nani nō ka ʻike maka ʻana i ko lākou hoʻonui ʻana. He kupaianaha nō ka hiki iā lākou keiki ke ʻike pehea e hana ai i nā hana maʻamau mai ka puka ʻana o nā maka i ke ao. Aʻo koke lākou mai nā mākua. He nani wale nō! 
   Howzit kākou! Can you believe itʻs February already? On Monday, we officially made 4 months of living here on Hōlanikū. The next thing we know, itʻll be off-load day and the Summer crew will tag us out and take the next round fighting off the verbesina. Itʻs small kine sad just thinking about leaving such a beautiful place, but Iʻm taking in as much as I can, living and appreciating each moment that I have here. 
   Well, itʻs not a surprise that we had another cold and wet week here on Hōlanikū. The week started off with storms with the highest gust of wind at 64 mph. The shutters of the camp house were put down, leaving us eating in darkness once again. The waves were crashing outside on the reefs and firing inside the lagoon as well, leaving the island foggy with salty air (one of my favorite things from home in Haleʻiwa). We also had thunder and lightning on one of the stormy nights. The chilly wind and rain left us freezing, making me really miss taking hot showers (one of the things Iʻm looking forward to aboard the Kahana). With low solar power due to the weather, we had to turn off the fridge and freezers to conserve energy - forcing us to eat something that doesnʻt require refrigeration or to be quick like ninjas when grabbing something from the fridge. 
   Itʻs crazy to think that while weʻre freezing, even indoors, these albatross are battling through the extremes, determined and committed to keeping their chicks and eggs safe and warm. As the rain pours, the parent is unmovable in the nest. Some of them are so deeply settled in the nest bowl, they appear a bit pudgier than they really are - their heads sunk into their necks with wings spread out enough to cover majority of the nest, ensuring their chick is warm. The aloha I see through these magnificent birds is really touching. Itʻs so cute to get a little peak of those tiny fluff balls snuggled up and cozy under its parentʻs brood patch. Nothing can compare to the warmth you receive from a parent. 
   On the stormy days, we stayed indoors and completed the food inventory so that the Summer crew could prepare for their food shopping for their camp season. It was like Christmas again, opening bucket-fullʻs of “new” food, stoking on new meals we could make. On other rainy mornings, we did nursery work propagating mauʻu ʻakiʻaki and ERAPAU and also out-planted hundreds of kāwelu and lepturus. Because it rained majority of the week, we were able to treat only 12.6 acres. But you know these hammahs will jump right back on it and “spray and slay.” In addition to the usual work, we broadcasted AMDRO near the areas where we found big-headed ants. Now that the albatross chicks have arrived, itʻs important that we have this issue under control to ensure that our bird friends live in peace. 
   As for our weekend fun, Saturday was that “window” to wash and dry clothes, knowing that it was going to be a wet weekend. Although our clothes are never really “clean,” being that theyʻre just soaked and rinsed in buckets, they did get a few extra rinses from the rain. When it came to lunch, cravings overwhelmed me and I finally made a meal that Eryn and I kept discussing throughout the week - SPAM MUSUBIS. The stoke was real! I had the biggest smile on my face because it reminded me of home and the fond memories of making these local treats. Was ʻono! Since it was a free night, we all made our own dinners and played a few intimate games of “Candlelit Bananagrams” (since the solar power was off and the batteries for our headlamps are too valuable haha). After being exhausted from the previous weeks, it was nice to have another bonding night with the crew.
   Well gangeh, we got 4 months down, just 2 more to go! As the season slowly comes to an end, I am taking in each moment, reflecting, learning, and growing. Although we may face bi-polar weather, my aloha for Hōlanikū will remain constant. If not constant, it only continues to grow deeper. 
   Eia ka ʻōlelo noʻeau o kēia pule: “Pumehana ka hale i ka noho ʻia e ka makua” (Warm is the home in which a parent lives) -Ka Puke ʻŌlelo Noʻeau a Pākuʻi #2743. At some point, these albatross chicks will be left alone in their nest bowl as their parents fly great distances for foraging. However, during these first couple of weeks, mommy and daddy will be taking turns feeding and keeping the chick under their protection. Sometimes the parent can be so fixed with incubation, that they wonʻt even get up to switch places with their mate. Their commitment to their offspring is astonishing. As for us, whether itʻs leaving our “nest” to go to school or traveling to distant places, thereʻs always the comfort of knowing weʻll have a home to return to - a refuge, a warm embrace, and lots of food for nourishment. As Grandma always says, “Go eat!” ;) Wherever a makua or kupuna resides, it will always be warm. 

Mahalo a nui no ka heluhelu ʻana. A hui hou a i kēia pule aʻe. K dennnnn

Naʻu,
Aulani 

Wednesday, February 1, 2017

Hele Ke Poʻo A Pōnaʻanaʻa - Blog #17


                                                        Hele Ke Poʻo A Pōnaʻanaʻa Blog #17 
                                                              Pule 17 (1/22/17-1/28/17)

   Aloha mai e nā maka heluhelu, nā ʻohana, a me nā hoa i piha i ke aloha iā Hōlanikū. E kala mai i koʻu hoʻouna ʻana i kaʻu mau puke hoʻomanaʻo me ka lohi. ʻO ka ʻoiaʻiʻo, ʻaʻole au hoihoi i ke kākau ʻana i kekahi mau manawa ma muli o ka luhi i ka hana. ʻAʻole maʻalahi ka noʻonoʻo ʻana i nā mea e kākau ai i hoihoi ʻoukou. He hana nō kēia. Eia naʻe, ʻike au he mea nui kēia no nā kānaka hoihoi iā Hōlanikū. 
   Howzit gangeh. I know by the time this blog is uploaded, itʻll already be in the middle of the new week that has begun. Honestly, it gets pretty difficult trying to keep up with writing these weekly blogs. Itʻs another exhaustion on top of the exhaustion Iʻm already feeling from the work weʻre doing here. I already write in my personal journal every evening, but itʻs written in ōlelo Hawaiʻi (Hawaiian language). If I could just upload that, I would. Buuuuut I know it means a lot to those who like getting updated on the haps here on Hōlanikū. So, forgive me for slacking. This blog will be short as well. Got my earphones in with Fat Freddyʻs Drop setting the mood. Here we go.. 
   Although this week wasnʻt as cold as the previous one, it still had us bundled up in warm clothes. At some point, the temperature dropped down to the high 50ʻs, which would be considered “freeze ʻelemu” kine weather for us back home. It was pretty overcast this week and we had some showers too. Besides all that, Iʻm happy that our days are getting longer again. The sun is rising about 10-15 minutes earlier at 8:30am (7:30am here) and sets around 7:40pm (6:40pm here). I find it funny that although our days are extended once again, weʻre still going back to our rooms fairly early, around 7pm (6pm here) and itʻs still light out. Itʻs even earlier than when our days were shorter. 
   As for work this week, we still managed to treat 41 acres despite getting rained out on a few days. Since we were unable to spray, we did nursery work such as out-planting mauʻu ʻakiʻaki and propagating Lepturus repens We also got a head start on the food inventory so that the Summer crew can prepare for their food shopping. Can you believe we have about 2 more months left? Itʻs too soon to leave! If I could stay longer, I would, but thereʻs kuleana I must attend to. E hoʻi ana au i kekahi lā. No doubt about dat! 
   Well gangeh, thatʻs it for this weekʻs update. To tell you the truth, thereʻs a million things I can say about what Iʻm experiencing out here, but itʻs difficult to put all that Iʻm feeling in my naʻau into writing. Nevertheless, Iʻll try to make a better effort with my descriptions (time-depending). Tanks ah for being patient! As usual, Iʻll leave you with the ʻōlelo noʻeau of the week. Eia ka ʻōlelo noʻeau o kēia pule: “ʻAʻohe hana i nele i ka uku” (No deed lacks a reward) Every deed, good or bad, receives its just reward -Ka Puke ʻŌlelo Noʻeau a Pākuʻi #141. This ʻōlelo noʻeau relates to both the weekly blogs and the work that weʻre continuing to complete here. They can both be a drag at times, but I know itʻs all worth it. There are times when I think about discontinuing the blogs, but knowing that its actually being read, exposed to the world, the reward is truly the fact that other lives are changing and thereʻs a growing interest in the environment. As for the hard work thatʻs being done, money as payment would be of no value. The opportunity to even be here is already a gift. The “reward” would only be everything that Hōlanikū allows me to experience. The biggest “reward,” but what Iʻd consider as a goal, would be the ability to share the aspect of aloha ʻāina throughout this honua :)

Mahalo a nui no ka heluhelu ʻana. A hui hou a i kēia pule aʻe. K den menpachis

Naʻu,
Aulani