In Blooming Prairie I was not a minority. With a dense Caucasian percentage (roughly 95%) relative to total population, I simply did not run into any type of ethnic discrimination on a recurring basis, nor did I ever participate in any discrimination, as a recipient or as a perpetrator.
In Hawaii, I am a Haole (pronounced how-lee). To most of the non-Asian tourists that visit the Islands of Hawaii it means foreigner or not a local. After you live on the islands for a while it typically becomes a racial, derogatory word for whites. Recently, I did some research and found that there are several instances to the origin, such as:
1. Foreigner
2. Breathless
3. Evil White Man; Aka Captain Cook; this can also be misconstrued because when Cook first arrived, he was also thought of as a spirit; Hence, some misinterpretation of the ‘no breath’ comments
Here are a couple of my ‘Haole’ stories.
Two Monday’s ago (geez it’s been a while since I have written), my coworkers were kind enough to drop me off at the local food pantry a block away from our condo. Unable to make a decision on what I wanted to eat, I decided to venture around, laptop case in one hand, blackberry in the other. For a further visual, my Hawaiian business attire included: navy blue dress pants, tan/brownish slip on dress shoes, and a tucked in, light blue, Hawaiian aloha dress shirt. Yes folks, my hair WAS gelled (love painting pictures). Finally stopping at a crosswalk (this haole doesn’t J walk), I pulled out my blackberry to check a message. Sure enough, up walks a middle aged, shirtless, Hawaiian gentlemen wearing a backpack (packed with who knows what), shorts, and running shoes. Close enough to tell he must have been working out without deodorant on, or drinking, the gentlemen stared at me. Trying to avoid confrontation, I kept looking at my blackberry. Sure enough, the gentlemen continued to stare at me, but this time I acknowledged him. Instantaneously, the local looked down at my blackberry, again, stared at me, hocked a big loogie, launched it inches from my shoes (it was dark brown BTW), and walked away.
By the time my jaw finished bungee jumping, the same guy walked over to the Haole next to me, who was coincidentally looking at his blackberry and performed the same ritual. Like most sequels, it was less impressive, BUT I almost gave the guy $5 for the gutsy performance. Oh yeah, did I mention that he was roughly 5’6”, 145?
Oh, don’t worry, the story doesn’t end there.
Finally, the walking sign gave us the go ahead, and, upon establishing our new Haole support group, the gentlemen to my left (we are going to call him Bob) and I started walking across the street. Feeling left out, our local friend (let’s call him Bill, short for William), decided to follow us. Sensing the frustration from being kicked out of the support group that he quickly founded, Bill quickened his pace. Meanwhile, walking directly towards us as we crossed the path was another haole business man, and, much to your surprise, Bill noticed him. Shifting his red-eyed target from Bob and myself to the new guy, Bill halted him dead in his tracks, undressed the gentlemen with his eyes, and hocked his third loogie in as many minutes. Where on earth does this guy find all that spit?
There is yet another story, but I promise to keep this one short. Later in the week, October 1st to be exact, the gang and I travelled to downtown Chinatown for First Friday. Missing a majority of the actual First Friday events, we simply made reservations at a restaurant called the Indigo Room. Prior to our reservation, we grabbed cocktails split up into smaller groups of conversation, and were simply killing time prior to the dinner. My co-worker, a nice, attractive young lady often confused as a local stood talking to me and another Caucasian co-worker. Instantly, muscle bound clowns started tossing jibes at Tim (co-worker) and me.
‘Haole! Haole! Haole!’ They continued to chant. Tim had no idea what that meant, but it was obviously targeted towards us.
The chanting soon subsided, but unfortunately, not their silliness. The circus was in town for the entire night. Next, mid conversation, tweedle dum from the pocket full of local homies, bent down behind my co-worker and faked sniffing his butt. Are you kidding me? He physically sniffed his a$$. No matter what severity of discrimination, views of another individual, or whether it is warranted or not, this is completely uncalled for. Heck, regardless, a person’s butt is going to smell; I am pretty sure a Haole’s won’t be any different.
Despite the minor discrimination hiccups, this remarkable state continues to surprise me. Perhaps one of the best surprises has been the quality time spent with a particularly beautiful Wahine (woman).
I am going to keep the suspense running with this one, so if you have any questions, please post a comment and a detailed message as to why you want to know these details.
Finally, a challenge to all of you…The last phrase I have in the title above means (beautiful sunsets). Below is a new slide show full of sunsets taken from various spots on the islands of O’ahu or Hawai’i. The person who views the slideshow and submits the best (according to me) caption to one of the photos, will receive a bag of delicious, ground Kona Coffee. If you don’t like coffee, get with the program, or perhaps, I will ship you a bag of Macadamia nuts. We will see.
Peace Homes. Miss you all.
Oh, by the way, future blogs to come include:
1. Kona Ironman
a. inspirational gentlemen (with a smile)
b. John, South Africa
c. Team Bonding and Lincoln Town Car Special Edition
2. Southern Point Heroics
a. Old Lady Pie Shop
b. Cliff Jumping
3. Lagoon/Haleiwa (hol-e-ay-va)
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