by Di Morrissey
‘Why are you so interested in an old man?’ he asked gently.
Catherine didn’t have an immediate answer. ‘I like you, Lester,’ she said finally. ‘And I think you’ll be a great subject for the portrait competition.’
‘What did you have in mind? I know what I’d do,’ said Lester.
‘At the beach? Outside the Outrigger Canoe Club where some of these were taken?’ said Catherine.
‘Got it in one, girl. Let’s go.’
‘Okay, you’re ready?’
Lester wanted to change his clothes so Catherine washed the coffee cups and put them away. She couldn’t resist a smile when Lester emerged from the bedroom wearing white shorts held up by a leather belt with a fancy silver and turquoise buckle and topped with a faded blue and white aloha shirt. He had sunglasses in his pocket and carried a perky cap. He slipped his feet into his sandals and took his stick.
‘I’m right to go.’
The sun was still high in the early afternoon and Waikiki was crowded. At Lester’s insistence she parked in the Outrigger Canoe Club.
‘Mike, the manager, will let me in here. We can cut through to the beach,’ said Lester as he headed towards the members only reception.
‘Are you a member?’ asked Catherine.
‘Used to be fifty years ago. They know me.’
Catherine grabbed her camera bag and followed him. Lester gave the girl at the desk a big smile and said airily, ‘Having my picture taken out the front, it won’t take long.’
‘Very well, Lester, you know the rules.’ She smiled at Catherine.
Lester had a few suggestions for photos: posing with an outrigger canoe pulled up on the beach; leaning against a gnarled banyan tree at the edge of the sand; and of course with a surfboard. He was a natural in front of the camera and Catherine took several pictures that she thought were good, but weren’t the one. She looked towards the shore where several surfers were walking from the water carrying their boards. Lester studied them, squinting into the sun.
‘Times change,’ said Catherine. ‘Those boards look different from the big heavy ones you used.’
‘Yes, but some things never change,’ said Lester softly. ‘Soul surfers. That’s what they call themselves now. These boys are in it for love and fulfilment, not winning and ego.’ As the surfers came up the beach one of them spotted Lester leaning on his cane, and murmured to the others. They all headed towards the legend with the white hair and faded shirt as he wistfully watched them.
Catherine moved to one side and started shooting. The first surfer to greet Lester was Damien, the Australian she’d met at the rally. He looked awestruck. The other two boys, one with bleached-blond hair, the other Hawaiian, she didn’t know. They all wanted to shake Lester’s hand and ask questions. Clearly Lester had not been forgotten. One put his board down and came around to Catherine.
‘Hi. How come you’re here with Lester?’
‘I’m doing some portraits of him.’
‘Hey, could you do the boys one favour and take one picture of us all with him, please? He’s one legend.’
‘I know. He’s incredible. And just a little while ago he was saying no-one is interested in him.’
‘He’s wrong there. You know him?’ asked the blond surfer, clearly impressed.
‘Yes,’ said Catherine. ‘Come on, I’ll take your photo before he gets too tired.’
‘It’s for the boys, they’d love a copy of it.’
‘We can arrange that,’ said Catherine.
She took a formally posed shot of the group. Then, because Lester’s legs were tired, they moved to the sea wall. Lester sat on a bench with his stick and the boys gathered around him.
Catherine wished she could tape the talk. The boys had a hundred questions, none of which she understood, about fin designs, weights, shapes, places and the breaks, the Pipeline, the waves on the North Shore.
‘You wait till next winter, when the big waves come in,’ Lester said to Catherine. ‘That’s the time to understand what surfing’s all about. These boys, they like surfing fine, but the North Shore winter sorts them out. Only the wild watermen get out there in the winter waves.’
‘Do you swim these days, Lester?’ asked the Hawaiian boy.
For the first time, Lester’s face fell. He’d been enjoying the young surfers’ admiration, their passion, their mutual bond. ‘Can’t get up on these old legs. I swim in the pool at the apartment.’
‘What about a surf sometime? Nothing beats the ocean, I’ll take you out on one of the old big boards. What do you say, Lester?’ said the blond surfer with a warm smile. ‘Even for a body surf. Catch a few smallies.’
‘We might well do that sometime, kid.’
Catherine could tell Lester was getting weary. ‘Hey, Lester, it’s time, we’d better be making a move.’ She turned to the surfers. ‘How can I get in touch with you to give you a copy of the pictures if they turn out all right?’ She fished in her handbag for a pen and scrap of paper.
The blond surfer wrote his phone number on it and handed it to her. ‘I’m PJ and listen, I meant what I said. I’d be happy to take him into the ocean for a dip. Somewhere quiet, no people, nothing risky. He must miss it.’
Catherine had dismissed his earlier remark but now, as she looked at PJ, she realised that he understood Lester’s limitations and was sincere in wanting to help him. With a slight shock she thought that PJ looked a bit like a young Lester. The same height and colouring, smooth gold skin, sun-frosted hair, sky-blue eyes and a serious sort of smile. There was salt crusted in his blond eyebrows and on his shoulders. He was staring at her, waiting for an answer.
‘I’ll call you.’ She picked up her camera bag and took Lester’s arm.
Damien tapped Catherine on the shoulder. ‘Jeez, mate, it’d be so cool to have a photo with a ledge like Lester. I’ll pay you for it.’
‘It’s okay, you’ve done me a favour. I think I have the photo I wanted. I’ll contact PJ when I get the prints.’
‘Groooovy. See you round, Cathy.’
She smiled as she helped Lester walk back into the club. Damien was a typical Aussie, abbreviating everything. Bradley had thought that it was a rather irritating trait, but to Catherine it sounded like home.
In the darkroom at the college Catherine and Paul held up the negatives in the glow of the red light globe. Catherine knew the shot she liked best of Lester: his head thrown back and an arm reaching out towards the ocean pointing to something. It was almost like a spiritual act as the awestruck and admiring surfers clustered, disciple-like, around him. With the surfboards, the strip of beach and a glimpse of the peak of Diamond Head, the expressions on their faces and the powerful face of Lester in the centre, the picture told the story.
‘I’m calling it the Changing of the Guard. Or Soul Surfers. Maybe The Old Man, the Sea and Soul Surfers. I’m not sure, I’ll toss around a few more titles.’
‘It’s a great shot. You can see he’s such a grand old man still with enormous strength and a powerful personality. Well done. You’re turning in some good work, Catherine.’
After she had printed the pictures of Lester she called around to show Vince at the News.
‘Absolutely knockout, Catherine. Gee, I’d love to use this one. But obviously not until after your photo competition.’ He studied them again, then rubbed his chin. ‘Hmm, y’know you’ve been taking some good stuff. Interesting. Different. I suppose it’s because you’re new to the Islands.’
‘Malihini eyes.’ Catherine smiled.
‘What say you do a regular picture for us? Places, people, anything that takes your fancy that has a bit of a story to it. Can you write a bit?’
‘Enough, I guess. I’d love to do that. I often see people and want to photograph them and I feel a bit shy, but if it’s for the paper I have an excuse to chat to them for a bit. How often would you want something?’ Catherine was starting to feel very excited.
‘Once a week, we’d run it in the Saturday pap
er, call it “Our Island, Our Home”. We’d pay you the same rate as we have for the other photos of yours that we’ve used, if that’s okay?’
Catherine nodded. ‘This is sooo good, Vince. I can use this as a bit of an excuse to get out of some of the deadly Wives’ Club things.’
‘You can bring in the film and give it to the darkroom, by Thursday if you can, or you can develop it yourself if you want to.’
‘How much do I have to write to go with it? A caption or a bit of detail?’ asked Catherine.
‘About two or three hundred words. Put in a quote if it’s someone interesting. Let me see what you can do. We’ll kick off with that shot of Lester, after the competition, whether it wins or not.’
Catherine shook his hand. ‘Thanks, Vince. I’ve always wanted to do something like this. And write something. I’m sure that I can do something for you each week.’
‘I’m not asking for a novel. Just keep it concise. And be sure to give us a bit of a selection. Couple of versions of the shot so I can choose one to work into the layout.’
‘I can’t wait to tell Bradley.’
‘I’m surprised, well, that’s handy for you. You must be coming along in that course,’ said Bradley. ‘I hope it doesn’t take up too much time, though. And I wouldn’t make a big deal of it at the Wives’ Club. Working off base is always a bit of an issue.’
‘I’ll keep it to myself. I doubt any of them read the Hawaii News.’ Catherine felt a bit deflated but she knew Kiann’e and her friends would be thrilled for her.
A few days later she rang the number the blond surfer, PJ, had given her.
‘Hi, this is Catherine Connor. I took the photos of Lester and all you guys.’
‘Right. How’d it come out?’
‘I have some great shots. In fact, one might run in the Hawaii News.’
‘Hey, the guys will get a kick out of that. Thanks a lot.’
‘I’ll leave them for you at the News offices. What’s your name by the way?’
‘It’s Peter James. But PJ will do. Say, that Lester, what a terrific old man. I’d really like to take him for a quiet dip in the ocean. Do you think he’d like that?’
‘He did say it would be a nice thing to do, but he kind of dismissed it as too hard,’ said Catherine. ‘He’s pretty strong, and he’s very determined. What would it involve?’
‘Taking him somewhere where there’s calm water, no waves to speak of. First time anyway. He was an Olympic swim champ, so he’ll be okay once he’s in the water and weightless. He’ll just need a bit of assistance getting out of the water and up the beach.’
‘I’d love to do that for him. That’s really kind of you. I think he’d feel better if there wasn’t a crowd. He’s a very proud man, in a nice way. He was pretty chuffed at the attention from you all.’
‘I’ll arrange it. What’s your number?’
Catherine gave him her phone number and then added, ‘I nearly forgot, the reason I called was to get all your names and where you’re from in case the paper uses the photo with all of you in.’
‘You got me there,’ laughed PJ. ‘I’ll have to call you back. Most of the boys have nicknames and I don’t know their surnames!’
At the next Wives’ Club meeting Catherine listened as the president ran through the agenda.
‘We have donated the five hundred dollars raised for our children’s charity from the handicraft fair. Perhaps we can begin a new project. Does anyone have any suggestions?’
Catherine lifted her hand. She’d had an idea for some time, but it was a radical one. Nevertheless she plucked up courage and blurted it out. ‘Well, yes. As we’re living here amidst another community, perhaps it would be useful to learn a little more about the community we share. Learn a bit more about Hawaii . . . it has a fascinating history and culture,’ said Catherine.
‘That’s a nice idea,’ broke in Connie Goodwin. ‘Of course, some of us have lived here for quite a while, Catherine. Does anyone have any ideas or suggestions?’
Catherine bit her lip.
Julia Bensen spoke up. ‘An art class might be nice, or music – how about ukulele lessons, or even the hula?’
There was a round of laughter, followed by enthusiastic discussion about the hula.
‘We loved those dancers we saw at the hula competition in Kapiolani Park that Catherine took us to,’ said Julia.
‘Why don’t we put on a show? Raise money that way, have a bit of fun and give the money to an Hawaiian charity,’ suggested Peta Harrison, wife of the head of the base transport division.
There was a flurry of agreement.
‘But who’s going to teach us?’ Julia looked to Catherine.
Mrs Goodwin turned to Catherine. ‘My dear, you seem to have some connections out there in the local entertainment scene, do you not?’
‘I’ll ask. Of course it’s only fair they are paid, or we donate money to the charity of their choice.’
There was some discussion over the detail, which Catherine found boring. The decisions over who would do what, be responsible for what, report on what, drove her crazy. She wanted to jump up and say, ‘For God’s sake, I’ll ask Kiann’e to come and give us lessons and we donate XYZ to some local charity. Let’s move on.’ But she held her tongue and it was finally resolved that Catherine would ask Kiann’e if she would give hula lessons and report back at the next meeting.
‘Kiann’e, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. Or suggest someone else. But I tried, I really tried to get them interested in a project that would give them some sense of the history of the Islands . . . which I’m only just starting to learn,’ wailed Catherine.
‘It’s okay. There are hula classes and hula classes. They’ll get a lot more with me than they expect,’ said Kiann’e. ‘Hula tells stories, we’ll creep the knowledge in – to music. Of course, you’ll be there.’
After Kiann’e’s first lesson, the wives clustered around Catherine.
‘Wasn’t that wonderful? It’s so . . . ooh, seductive.’
‘Much more so than rock and roll, or modern dance. Wait till I show my husband this!’
‘No preview. Make them wait for the big show when we’re really good,’ said Julia, clearly excited by the prospect of something really different.
Several lessons later, as Kiann’e drove her home, Catherine thanked her friend. ‘You’re too famous to be teaching a bunch of naval wives, and real amateurs at that, the sacred dances of your people. They don’t appreciate it. You’re so good to do this.’
‘Actually it’s important to let people know there’s much more to hula than just these movements. The hula has a language of its own and if it speaks, even just a little, to these women so that they understand this is a means of passing down and interpreting our culture, then it’s worth it. And I do think that some of them appreciate its significance.’
‘It just seems there is so much more we could be learning about the old chants, the royal family of Hawaii. And, of course, so much more we could contribute. Still, this is certainly a good start,’ said Catherine.
Kiann’e was right. Many of the naval wives doing the hula classes became very keen about what they were doing. They pressed Kiann’e about the dresses she wore, wanting to have similar ones made.
Kiann’e explained, ‘The big loose muu-muu is like a Mother Hubbard, brought in by the missionaries to cover up all the women. If the traditional dances were performed the missionaries had the women and men wear thick brown neck-to-ankle tights and tops under their ti-leaf skirts, pareos and cloaks. Now the long fitted dress I dance in is called a holomuu; the holoku is the same, long and fitted at the waist but with a train. And the short muu-muu is called a pokomuu.’
Some of the wives started bringing notebooks to write down the snippets of information they found interesting and over juice and coffee after class, Kiann’e was asked questions about dressmakers, leis and food.
‘Catherine, this is such a good idea, it’s all so interesting,’ s
aid Julia Bensen.
‘Why don’t we put on an Hawaiian feast when we do our show?’ enthused Peta.
‘A luau would be fun,’ said Catherine. ‘We could make it a fundraiser for one of the charities. Don’t you think the Wives’ Club should support a local Hawaiian charity?’
‘Great idea. A luau and a chorus line of lovelies from the Wives’ Club. The boys will love it,’ said Julia.
‘We’ll need help with the food. Don’t they cook it in the ground?’ asked Peta.
‘I have friends who might help,’ said Catherine, rather amused. ‘I’ll talk to Kiann’e.’
Kiann’e was helpful but declined getting involved in the luau and hula show for the Wives’ Club. ‘You run it, Catherine, you can handle it,’ she winked. ‘Seems you’re becoming a bit of a star in the club.’
Catherine acknowledged the irony behind her remark. ‘Yes. I suppose I am but, of course, it’s only the younger wives who’re interested.’
Although Kiann’e had refused to help with the show her aunt and uncle were more than happy to organise the luau. It was held down near the beach on the recreation grounds. Unfortunately, Uncle Henry ended up having to do kalua pig on a spit as they weren’t allowed to dig the imu pit and roast the food in the traditional way because they were on naval land, but no-one seemed to mind.
The husbands and single men who’d been coerced into coming along had a ball. The food was delicious, the cheerful banter of Aunty Lani, Uncle Henry and nephew Albert made the evening a wonderful success. Catherine realised it was probably the first time many of these naval people had met the locals socially. However Mrs Goodwin couldn’t help bossing and trying to run things. She started to treat Aunty Lani as staff, but Aunty Lani was quick to assert herself in a friendly manner.
‘Now then, don’t you try and tell me when we eat, ma’am. When the kau kau ready, we eat. You sit back and enjoy yourself.’
Catherine had designed the invitations and insisted that everyone wear Hawaiian dress. Mrs Goodwin had made a token effort but the young wives, armed with Kiann’e’s directions, were all in attractive muu-muus and holomuus and looked stunning.