Reflections on the Pacific

By Hannah Stegall. Hannah is an undergraduate in Civil Engineering with an interest in sustainable transportation methods.

I admit there’s been some scope creep with this post, especially because most of our experiences have already been covered by my wonderful teammates, but the impact of our trip is not something that I can convey in a succinct manner. If there is one thing that I learned during our time in Hawai’i, it’s that nothing is not connected. Attempting to separate my personal journey and our group’s journey from how the trip has affected the project would be a futile effort.

The first day we spent in Hilo after arriving at our home for the next two weeks was uneventful, but that doesn’t mean it was any less memorable. Allyson taught us a card game, and we spent the afternoon planning on going to a beach near our house. We knew it would be a bit of a walk, but we were vitalized by the beauty around us and ready to enjoy the water. What we didn’t realize was that “a bit of a walk” actually meant 2.5 miles of muddy, rocky, and generally unpleasant terrain that none of us were prepared for. We turned around about 15 minutes in as we sheepishly asked to be picked up much earlier than planned. Our trip to the beach was halted but the feelings of happiness and camaraderie began to flow effortlessly.

The following day was a great transition into the research-oriented part of our trip. All I felt that day was kindness from those around me. One of our research collaborators, Torri Law, made a comment that we had “brought the sunshine with us”. I disagree; I think that the sun shined as bright as it did that day to imitate the warmth we received from our colleagues. I could feel any anxieties about my work on the project fade away during that initial greeting and while perusing the farmer’s market. Interacting with locals inexplicably melted away the social barriers that so tragically yet so commonly appear between individuals.

Group photo after being welcomed to University of Hawaii, Hilo. Front row, from left to right: Jermy Uowolu, Torri Law, Hoku Brown, Bethany Correia, Allyson Dinwiddie, Gio Stabile. Second row, from left to right: Nathan Fagolmwai, Katie Jarriel, Jake Dorson, Hannah Stegall, Danielle Ejiogu, Marlo Weber, Chris Farber, Connor Underwood. Taken by Dr. Joe Genz.

We had some absolutely scrumptious lunch that day. If you ever find yourself at Poke N Sides in downtown Hilo and an employee asks what you’d like to eat, these should be the words that exit your mouth: sushi rice, mac salad, and spicy ahi. Maybe I was just in a good mood, but this may have been the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten.

My yummy lunch… after I had devoured most of it. Taken by author.

An important factor we’ve had to consider throughout our research is the “who” and “why” behind the resources we’ve read and referenced. History was passed down orally in Oceania, so it’s important to evaluate the perspective and context of any written sources we’ve used. This is one of the reasons our time in Hawai’i was so valuable to our research: information was conveyed verbally, and therefore, firsthand. During our visit to the ‘Imiloa Observatory Center, we met Nick Marr, a Māori navigator, who shared his knowledge with us.

A model double-hulled outrigger canoe in the ‘Imiloa Observatory. Photo by Dr. Jarriel.

Māori navigation uses the feeling of ocean swells to understand their position and where they are headed. These observations eventually become intuitive. However, one could say that they actually come from ancestral knowledge, emphasizing the role of spoken history. This is one of the reasons colonization so deeply affected Pacific Island communities. Placing boundaries between groups of islands stunts the ability for people to connect, and therefore makes the transfer of oral information exponentially more difficult. Nick talked about these invisible borders during our visit: “there are no physical borders in the ocean”. As mentioned previously, I believe that these borders transfer over to our connections with one another. However, when one embraces that these barriers are simply conceptual, they begin to lose their impact, be it in the context of interpersonal, inter-island, or international relationships.

Inside the main lobby of the ‘Imiloa Observatory Center. Pictured are names of the houses used for celestial maritime navigation. Taken by Dr. Jarriel.

The general focus of our day at Ulu Mau Puanui was being aligned, which is where we learned about the concept of pico, or center. An island can have a center, a circle can have a center, and a person could have a center. It was explained that everyone has three picos: the past, the present, and the future. Any “weirdness” in one’s life could stem from these being out of alignment. I focused on external surroundings (not hard to do when your surroundings are gorgeous) in order to assess my internal alignment. From atop the hill we had scaled we could see both the vast ocean and landscape. When the air blew through the long grass it looked exactly like the water in the ocean; land and sea are characteristically opposite, but both personify the mana of the universe.

Where the land meets the sea meets the sky. Photo courtesy of Dr. Jarriel.

Scaling down the mountain was tough for me. Our host, Aunty Kehau Marshall, observed to make sure we all made it to the bottom safely. I was the slowest descender and the last one down, and feeling guilty about my pace, I apologized to Aunty. She assured me there was nothing to be sorry about before informing me of a saying that stemmed from interactions between voyagers: “we are as strong as our weakest swimmer”. Now, I had only ever heard this saying in the context “a chain is only as strong as its weakest link”.  This semester I felt a lot of self-doubt about my contributions to our research, but hearing the saying Aunty Kehau had just shared with me completely shifted my mindset within seconds. If a group has the compassion to lift each other up, there will be no “weakest swimmer”. There is no weakest link if you exist as one connected unit.

Everyone was fairly tired after our presentation, our trip to Puanui, and our excursion to Kona. During our free morning, we planned on returning to the trail we attempted the first day, this time mentally and physically prepared to brave the hike that guarded it. Our main motivator was the trail’s end: beautiful, turtle filled Haena beach.

A semi low-quality photo of the turtles we spotted at Haena beach. Worth the hike. Taken by author.

As we journeyed through rocky trail shaded by the leafy canopy above us, there was less hesitancy than our original attempt. What had become daunting and unpleasant terrain had transformed into adventure and appreciation. We had gone from separate individuals, unfamiliar with our surroundings, to understanding our symbiotic relationship and one-ness with both one another and with our environment. Although all our members are from the mainland, our project felt less observatory, and more interwoven with the experiences that had been shared with us. Perhaps this connection with the environment is why I had grown to love our house’s outside shower so dearly.

Our time in Hawai’i was vitally important for our research. The kindness we experienced and the ‘aina that cared for us had a substantial impact on our team and will continue to follow us as we progress our project. Being familiarized with Pacific Islander culture is one thing, but it’s another to be enveloped into what you have learned. Although our time in Hawai’i has come to an end, our voyage is by no means over; the connections we formed with the island, our peers, our research, and ourselves are serving as fresh gusts of wind behind our sails.