The Medicine Man ( warning: no recipes) Here is a story about a little village, charming in its innocence but perhaps a bit intense for the squeamish. If you have kids in the room, please send them outside to play. . . Many years ago, while learning to survive in America as a young vagabond poet/musician, I worked as a seasonal migrant fruit picker in a multitude of orchards along the Columbia River basin. Working and living amongst Hippies, Mexicans, Iranians, Rednecks, and other ingredients in the melting pot was both educational and completely rewarding. Many an evening was spent discussing world cultures, enjoying food and sharing music. The long hours of work began with the early frost of dawn and continued through the often-brutal heat of the Eastern Washington afternoon. A cool dip in the Columbia was many times the source of motivation to press on. The work was not easy but a poet must pay his dues. One year, the harvest was delayed due to climatic issues and slow-ripening fruit. The large, somewhat remote orchard offered a unique area for the migrant workers to set up camp as we awaited the start of work. Tents, teepees, and scrap lumber "hobbit huts" were erected on the slopes and base of a large crater-like depression on the property. The football field-sized diameter of our homestead afforded ample room for the fifty or so people that waited for work to begin. It was an amazing site, like an old Native- American village; children ran about, adults whittled on sticks and talked story. Food was stored, prepared and shared in the communal kitchen located at the bottom of our crater. One day, a pickup truck pulled up to the top of the ridge. The weathered foreman climbed out looking over the camp and told us that we had better make ourselves scarce for the next few hours because a helicopter was on the way to drop pesticide on the entire orchard. Near panic ensued as we could hear the sound of the blades popping through the sticky July air. The following ten minutes looked like a scene from Apocalypse Now; screaming women scooping up children, men hastily throwing tarps and blankets over food supplies, people with seeming disregard for broken bones and bruises diving into moving cars and flinging themselves onto pickup truck beds. Within minutes the camp was abandoned as we sped down the dirt roads toward the river, helicopter swooping down toward our base camp like a hawk. Three or fours hours later we returned to our village. Although everything looked normal, the experience had been surreal, we were edgy and still freaked out from the experience. Soon life was back to normal. Early the next morning, I awakened to an unsettling noise. I couldn't quite identify at first but within minutes I realized that they were groaning sounds. Throwing open my blanket-door I was shocked to see humans strewn about the ground throughout the camp, moaning, writhing, bent in fetal position in obvious agony. My wife was feeling it, my son was quiet, not himself. I wandered about the camp realizing that the helicopter attack had wounded my comrades. I was feeling ok and knew that it was up to me to do something. My obsession-du jour happened to be natural medicine. Recently back from Southern Utah as one of the founding workers in a communal school of natural healing, I felt well equipped to provide medical assistance to my fallen mates. Running back to my hut, I hastily concocted a large infusion of "elixir" made from various herbs. With enema bag, refill jug and sanitizer in hand, I waded through the masses, from butt to butt offering love in a practical, probing manner. Within a few hours, the villagers began to return to life as was before the great war. The medicine man was shown honor albeit mixed with embarrassment.
Many years later, I ponder that experience with the realization that
not many have known this side of so many individuals. I am humbled and greatly
moved.
I never see people walking their dogs, or in some cases "driving"
their dogs on a long leash beside or behind their pickups ("it's a haole
thing" I overheard some locals chuckle in bemusement), except at dawn or
dusk. The leash law is occasionally ignored, but unrestrained dogs are a
big problem on the little Big Island. Wild dog packs maraud through the
countryside at night, destroying livestock. An unleashed dog owned by renters
living in an illegal habitat attacked and killed my neighbor's beloved pet
goose. A loose dog owned by hari krishna "survivalists" living in a plastic
teepee near the forest reserve mauled and killed another neighbor's
beloved pet llama. A little boy walking to the park was bitten in the face
by yet another unrestrained bow-wow. Of course, people who move here aren't
about to leave their own beloved pets behind, and I'm no exception. But honoring
the leash law is not only the legal and moral thing to do, it's the way to
get along with your neighbors. It's also the way to avoid having Fido hauled
away by the police and sent to canine heaven... or wose. People here have
been known to shoot or club dogs that wander onto their property, and, of
course, there are some ethnic communities for whom it's traditional to eat
dogs. After all, why do you think the original kanaka maoli loaded a
few dogs onto the canoes? Hint: it wasn't to play fetch when they got bored
on the journey. (No recipes, please..!)
Actually, I think the best time to walk the dogs is early in the morning - Both you and they can enjoy the start of another day, and you don't have to worry about the heat. On the Kona side, you definitely don't want to be walking your best friend in the heat of the day - I once had to carry my dog from the car to the shade of a picnic table because the pavement and sand was so hot at the old airport park. We carry water with us for the dogs, at all times, and NEVER leave them in the car without the a/c running, unless we can park in the shade, with all the windows down - which tends to be in our own driveway :) I do have one dog who loves to spend the afternoon napping in his crate in the van [I leave the back open for him] I think he wants to be ready if I decide to go somewhere. I have a simple recipe recipe: Peel and slice one avocado, and one Jicama. Drizzle lime juice over all, and sprinkle with Pico D'Gallo or cayenne to taste. Pop a beer if you feel like it and enjoy.
Carol and All of Carroll's Corgis On the Beautiful Big Island of
Hawaii
>From Reverend Abraham Akaka during a service celebrating Hawaii's statehood: Aloha consists of a new attitude of heart, above negativism and legalism. It is the unconditional desire to promote true good of other people in a friendly spirit, out of a sense on kinship. Aloha seeks to do good to a person, with no conditions attached. We do not do good only to those who do good to us. A person who has the true spirit of Aloha loves even when the love is not returned. That is not an easy thing to do by anyone that has not experienced it first hand a good part of his or her lives. I keep hearing from my friends that live in Hawaii that I better expect a lukewarm welcome by some and a attitude by others that I need to do my time and respect a certain pecking order for a while. I hope I can leave my ego and bravado in DC and treat all people the way Rev. Akaka described but as just a few folks on this web site rile you up O-Dreamer. I know it will be a challenge for me to lie to rest some East Coast customs that are not going to help my family and I put in our roots and fit in where we want to raise our kids. On that note on your question about walking dogs in the evening because it is too hot during the day. Yes O-dreamer your must walk your dog at night as that 78 degree temperature can make canine spontaneously combust. See..
Old habits are hard to die, I need to start 12 stepping again. Shhhh it's a secret Luke Luke's Recipe for Island Steak Ingredients/Requirements
1 whole beef tenderloin Try to have butcher slice tenderloin into long thin pieces (like a wooden yardstick) about 1 foot long. Prepare marinade by placing diced and smashed pineapple, cleaned ginger, and cleaned garlic, ½ a bottle of soy and as much hot sauce as you can take chopped up large enough to see but small enough to release all the flavor to the marinade. Soak wooden skewers in Olive Oil for 1 hour - you will forget this step only once I promise Put filet strips onto skewers in a zigzag style and try and not have too much of wood showing except on the ends. Once skewered put in a metal Turkey pan and drench with marinade. Leave it alone for min 24 hours in the fridge if you slip on Saturday and eat it on Sunday you will be even happier. Fire up the Weber - (Don't cheat here you propane "I can't taste the difference" numb tongues) Once coals are ready, spread and cover with low air intake to lower temperature for about 5 minutes. Cook away and don't overcook, its, tenderloin remember. Slide 1 or 2 skewers onto some pondasol (Spelling?) and feast like a hungry glutton.
Feeds a good size backyard full and it is the only dish remotely island
style (Pineapple?) I know how to cook. I will bring to the October Konaweb
Party if you seek to sample before you cook. See you then. Aloha MORE
LANI....MORE LANI....
Important update: The "Da Kine" page continues our ongoing coverage
of sex in Hawaii.
When I make it to the Big Island I'll be like Bob Marley. I'm bringing
relatives with me from the Philippines and the Mainland U.S., as well as
my wife and two children. I don't know about estates but I will have a compound
filled with extended family. I'm a laidback guy but I'm going to bust my
ass to make this happen. I don't care where I have to go to get the cash
but it'll happen. You need models and I've got a few. You can't let people
with money intimidate you. I went to school with people with so much money
compared to the average person that it seemed criminal. Life is uncertain,
so there's no guarantee that those on top will always be
there.
A bit of info to add to the picture of state gov't in Hawaii, nurses
are also state employees in the community hospitals, and have to jump through
the bureaucratic hoops. This includes an additional fee for licensure of
about $70 (I can't remember exactly) every other year to be used for
investigating complaints. I guess you just add this to the cost of paradise?
I , of course, would say let those who have a history of being investigated
pay an additional fee and leave the rest of us underpaid, hard working folks
alone! OSHA for health care workers also has plenty of good ideas carried
to ridiculous extremes.
My introduction to the umbilical water of the tropics was off the island of Negros Oriental, a Philippine paradise south of Luzon (Manila, Subic Bay, Banaue rice terraces, et al). It was also my first venture into the culture of Asia. I fell in love with tiny people, pedi-cabs (honda 50’s w/side cars), beautiful females, and geckos resting on every shady wall. I loved how the nationals called me Joe, I assume not always with charity in their hearts but I think it was genuinely sweet most of the time. The dirt roads of Dumaguete meandered through a jungle of thatched huts on stilts, spilling eventually onto a gorgeous beach of white sand and coral. Prior to this journey, my underwater experience had been limited to lakes, rivers, and swimming pools in the various towns that I grew up in . . . and Sea Hunt on TV. I loved Sea Hunt. Lloyd Bridges always had an enviable underwater adventure and the token slashed regulator hose segment. I pretended to be Lloyd as I held my breath diving for quarters in Las Vegas public swimming pools. Resisting fear, I swam toward unidentifiable fuzzy things beneath the docks in Lake Tahoe, or tin cans in Lake Stevens, Washington. I WAS Lloyd for those many underwater hours of my youth. Dunking my head in those Philippine waters blew my mind. Never in my imagination had I envisioned the spectacle of color and life that lie just beneath the aqua surface. The next two hours of frolic changed my life forever but the hours that immediately followed the frolic changed my sleep patterns for a couple of weeks. I suspected sunburn when I first left the water but I’d burned before as a kid so "no worries". The next day, silver dollar-size blisters prevented life as I had previously known it. Within a few days I found myself on the tiny island of Siquijor, in a concrete bungalow with no running water and only intermittent power. My burns screamed for a cold shower and a fan at night, neither of which was forthcoming. This little island is known for two things, voodoo and a little delicacy known as salawaki (raw sea urchin guts).
Recipe: Crack a sea urchin against a sharp rock I tried the guts but didn’t have the stomach for it. I didn’t see the voodoo, ‘cuz I was dealing with my own. Now, I always pack a tee shirt with my mask and fins.
OSHA and Scuba (or the Regulation of Regulators) Richard I agree that OSHA is a good idea suffering from poor execution in most cases. Some equipment manufacturers (and service providers), in their attempt to cut costs at all costs, have exposed workers to unnecessary danger. It is unfortunate that regulators do not consider either the operating conditions nor the degree to which workers must accept responsibility for safe operation prior to finalizing their regulations. The diving industry is keenly aware that government regulation of its equipment design, manufacture, training methods and licensing/certification will be the inevitable outcome of any let-down of current self-regulated practices. If you think regulators are expensive now, consider the cost of a simple clock installed in a private aircraft. That piece of equipment is so over-designed and the manufacturer is so over-insured against negligence in case of a crash (even though it's just a clock) that this simple timepiece sells for about $300. Apply that logic to the various second and third tier manufacturers that make the hoses, diaphraams, etc, that go into a regulator. Apply that logic to BC's, dive computers, etc.
I have in my files a cartoon, the type circulated in manufacturing
shops in the 70's, of what a child's rocking horse would look like if OHSA
regs were p(somewhat humorously) applied. Pretty scary.
It seems that being able to read and write these days means that your are trying to flex your intellectual muscle. I don't have my own company yet so I work for someone everyday. In this cycle I often find that my intelligence and usefulness get tested by people who are always looking to root someone out. In the real world we all get called out eventually. "What can you do? Show us." Dennis likes to feed the ducks and I like to feed the carp. Dennis has his own ducks and I feed someone else's carp!
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