02-26-2007, 05:22 AM
At the same time, and I'm not excusing the scare tactic guy at all for using that manner to stop you from moving to Hawai`i. I do feel it is really important for everyone to see it from a locals or local Hawaiian point of view and if any of you locals out there want to correct me feel free to. Ok, wait... maybe I should just print this slam poem my son wrote before he graduated from Moloka`i High School for his Natural Resource Management last family nights closing statement last year. Please note, I'm not trying to down anyone at all... I'm just trying to give you an example of how it is for a local kid to grow up in Hawai`i today. Some people resort to scare tactics some people resort to education and seeing it from all points of view but staying culturally sensitive.
Poetry by Kawika Subiono
Slam Poem:
It’s our paradise, not theirs. Right now I’m passing by Ali’i Drive, and I wonder. How did it get there? How did it become this way? How could we let this happen? Those foreign to our nation have become the majority in our state. The stench in my nose is salty, and it isn’t from the ocean. I’m distressed. It was our paradise, not theirs. But every one wants their nest. Snowbirds take houses that they only use through the winter while the locals can barely afford to house their families through the year. High rent, cars, buildings, streets, politics. It’s our paradise, not theirs. Not theirs to take, not theirs to keep. And I ask myself again. How could we let this happen? Our culture has become a tourist attraction and my land has become the least in supply and most in demand, globally. "We have to take a stand." She tells me. My mom considers herself to be an activist, but where could we ever begin? I’m holding the thinnest string ever found because the chances of us ever being sovereign again, are slim to none. I want the government in Hawaii to be run by Hawaiians, and I wish that people like Linda Lingle could understand. Behind me is a rental car, in front of me is a rental car, and I am in the middle. Trapped Between the cars of foreigners, slowly closing the gap…on me… Slippers, poi, skin-diving, Uluas, kalua pig, imus, limu, and lois. Someone should have told them. It’s our paradise, not theirs. I want sovereignty, I want freedom, I wish for better days, but rarely do I see them. I remember less cars, I remember clean air, but most of all, I remember when my mom first said, "It’s our paradise, not theirs…"
Poetry by Kawika Subiono
Slam Poem:
It’s our paradise, not theirs. Right now I’m passing by Ali’i Drive, and I wonder. How did it get there? How did it become this way? How could we let this happen? Those foreign to our nation have become the majority in our state. The stench in my nose is salty, and it isn’t from the ocean. I’m distressed. It was our paradise, not theirs. But every one wants their nest. Snowbirds take houses that they only use through the winter while the locals can barely afford to house their families through the year. High rent, cars, buildings, streets, politics. It’s our paradise, not theirs. Not theirs to take, not theirs to keep. And I ask myself again. How could we let this happen? Our culture has become a tourist attraction and my land has become the least in supply and most in demand, globally. "We have to take a stand." She tells me. My mom considers herself to be an activist, but where could we ever begin? I’m holding the thinnest string ever found because the chances of us ever being sovereign again, are slim to none. I want the government in Hawaii to be run by Hawaiians, and I wish that people like Linda Lingle could understand. Behind me is a rental car, in front of me is a rental car, and I am in the middle. Trapped Between the cars of foreigners, slowly closing the gap…on me… Slippers, poi, skin-diving, Uluas, kalua pig, imus, limu, and lois. Someone should have told them. It’s our paradise, not theirs. I want sovereignty, I want freedom, I wish for better days, but rarely do I see them. I remember less cars, I remember clean air, but most of all, I remember when my mom first said, "It’s our paradise, not theirs…"