I Was Born and Raised Here!

Hawaii, alas, is not all beautiful and serene. As American tourists here we have run into some problems. More in fact in the our thirteen day stay here than in the last 3-1/2 months combined.

It appears that, at least on the Big Island, the natives are restless. This evening, for instance, a biker was involved in a bit of a brawl near our camp site in Volcano National Park. He was beating on someone. We listened to the screams from the other pavilion and I instructed Janet to get in the car. We were leaving to call the police. We put the dinner pot on the floor-mat, tossed everything else in the trunk and headed for the nearest working phone at the Visitors Center.

Had this been our only incident, I wouldn't be writing this entry. But two other episodes, equally as uncomfortable, took place this week.

On the way out of a gas station, I was bumped by a native man. I turned and offered a polite "Excuse me," and was instantly met with a stare of disgust and several unprintable words. At the gas pump, he drove by with his family in tow and hung his head out the window to curse at me.

The other unsettling encounter happened at a county campground. Although some campgrounds were labeled as unruly by the county park board, this wasn't one that was mentioned. Perhaps in retrospect, we should have avoided them all. At 11 pm, five hours after sunset, two men and a family with three children were yelling, running and beating on the pavilion. Another man drove up the road and blasted his car stereo.

I made a move to get out of the tent and talk to them. Janet warned me otherwise. But since women and children were present, I figured they might be reasonable. After all, this is America. I politely asked if the music could be turned off since it was disturbing the campers. The response I got was a high pitched growl. "My father owns this place." The man pointed to the park sign. I couldn't help myself. "This is a county campground," I said. But after I said it I realized that reasoning with this man was no longer a possibility.
"My Father put this park here for ME!," the man yelled. Then, just as things couldn't get worse, they did. Another man, drunk, joined him. With his thick Jamaican accent he hollered the infamous words that we will forever remember and mimic. "I was born and raised here! I was born and raised here!"

We turned our backs on the rush of words and headed back to our tent. But turning our backs was a mistake, he came after us. Luckily two others restrained him. In little more than three minutes our tent was disassembled, tossed in the car and we drove away. The Jamaican words trailing behind us.

It took 40 minutes to find another camp site. This one fortunately was quiet. The saddest part of this whole encounter was that children had been witness to it. They will undoubtedly be influenced by the behavior of their parents and, in time, a new generation of ruffians will be able to say "I was born and raised here."

I didn't want to believe that this was Hawaii. Hawaii after all is Paradise, isn't it? But from everything I've seen and heard here, this paradise was meant only for the locals. Other campers described similar situations and I began to wonder why we had come here at all. A policeman we talked to offered a possible explanation, fear. Most of the locals on this island are on welfare. With the U.S. Government talking cutbacks, the Hawaiians are afraid. The Hawaiian agriculture is not competitive with world markets, tourism on the Big Island is low, competing with Maui and Oahu, the state is becoming divided. Some want sovereignty. They want to be recognized as different, as Hawaiians.

It seems to me that there is a general movement to rid the island of tourists. At the beautiful lookout at Wiapio Point where the movie 'Waterworld' was filmed, the public toilets were filthy. While we were there the cleaning crew came. One man emptied the trash, the other put a roll of toilet paper in the men's room. Neither bothered to clean the excrement on the toilet seat, wash the brown bowl or fix the broken sink knob. In the women's room they did nothing about the toilet which was backed up and overflowing.

At another area on the island, Hapuna Beach, the restrooms reminded me of a filthy Third World prison cell depicted in movies. I should have known. The man we rented our cabin from seemed put out that he would have to go to the trouble of collecting my money.

Lest, I leave you with a totally negative impression, we did find some lovely beaches and one particularly nice state park. But overall, this visit to Hawaii will not be remembered as a highlight on this trip.