Kama'aina

Some of you may know that I was born under a rainbow.  I am half-Chinese and I was born in Honolulu, Hawaii.  In the same hospital as Mr. Obama.  And so far my birth certificate is legit.  (Oh and maybe now you know a little why this blog is called what it is.)

It is my idea to do mostly posts about Hawaii this month.  I lived there for three years from 2005 to 2008 having spent most of my childhood and adult life NOT on those lovely islands.  Most of my life was spent in places that were cold and snowy and dark at this time of year and yes I will say without reservation and this may have been the first and truest thing I EVER realized about myself in life:  DARK AND COLD DO NOT SUIT ME!!!!!!!!!  Just looking at these pictures even from sunny L.A., my heart lifts with an unspeakable joy.  It is something very elemental and very intrinsic to being Hawaiian I think.  (Or maybe not so much all you touristas?)  Hawaiians are very attached to our bright archipelago in the middle of a vast blue sea and when we leave those islands we cannot help but wonder (among other things) "Who the hell turned off the lights?!!!!!"  And WHY???????  At this time of year, people like me need lots of sunshine and light.  And so a little cyber sunshine........

These houses are called kama'aina houses.  "Kama'aina" means "child of the land" in Hawaiian, or, someone who has lived in Hawaii a very long time.  It's commonly used as an equivalent of a "local".

These little houses are single walled construction and a blend of "asian vernacular" and California Craftsman.  They have clever little built ins and hidden closets and sliding doors that borrow from both traditions.

These are the houses that everyone lived in when I was born in Hawaii and when I visited growing up.

Most new construction is so different now and aspires to over-large west coast Spanish styles in stucco and beige with plastic windows and fences.  (YUCK!)

I think they look like characterless refuse scattered against the jewel-green landscape.  (Yes, LITTER!) I am so not FOR them.  Not THESE, I mean the beige NEW houses.

Why spoil a landscape celebrated for its beauty - its emerald mountains, its turquoise and lapis oceans, its moody purple clouds and full spectrum rainbows - with architecture that is utterly devoid of color and charm?

I love these houses for their character.  Their personality.  Their geometry.  Their play of pattern.  Homeyness.  Modesty.  Some even seem shy.

And then some are grievously neglected and look as if they, along with their inhabitants, had withdrawn entirely from the world.

Some are refreshed from time to time with new paint and new tenants.  Many remind me of Japanese folkloric personalities wrapped in layers of history and pattern.  Most are now occupied by very old people.

Nothing inside them changes.  Sometimes they just disappear and something awful replaces them.  But I won't go there again.

I was born into a house like this where my Mother grew up with her brothers and sisters.  Down the road from a japanese teahouse.  It was painted bright yellow inside and out, and hung with photos of all the beautiful family. It still is. It is overhung with mango and starfruit trees. The kitchen and closets are stuffed full of goodies for visiting little children to eat.  I have an auntie and cousins who still live there and on the stone steps Ralph the black lab stands guard and every kind of orchid blossoms.  Most of the old neighbors who knew me when I was a baby still live there.

Now you know what kama'aina means!

Thanks everyone for stopping by with such nice New Year's greetings!  Big hugs!