The end of the Makahiki...the song of Lono goes unsung...
It is the last days of the Makahiki , the festival dedicated to Lono, the God of fertility, agriculture, rainfall, music, and peace. Basically he is the God of sex, drugs, and rock and roll, a mythical, Hawaiian Keith Richards. Yet I haven’t heard him or the festival mentioned once since I’ve been here. Lono flew down to earth on a rainbow to make love to the sultry goddess Laka, the deity of hula and fertility, and to bring music, wrestling, boxing matches, and bountiful crops to the masses. He flew down on a rainbow to make love to a woman for God’s sake. He is a hard partying, die hard romantic, banging a thunderous drum, but nobody cares. Jesus has taken Lono’s place on the islands because he created Costco and the Super Bowl and some would say, no God can compete with $3.90 per gallon gas and a spectacular Bruno Mars half time show. Well, I will be the one person that chooses Lono as my god of worship, and Pink Floyd as my soundtrack to enlightenment.
The Makahiki runs from October through February every year and during which war and unnecessary work is forbidden. I have been staying true to both rules during the festival but it seems that everybody else follows these rules strictly through out the whole year, even after the Makahiki ends. Lono must be just as furious as I, for we both know this is not in celebration of the festival and his great power, but because “we live in Hawaii man.”
Lono dwells in the Tahitian islands and travels north to Hawaii in October and then is driven back in February once the fertility rituals are complete. I was in the Tahitian Islands in November on the island of Bora Bora (said to be the island of origin of all Hawaiian people) and I heard no mention of him there as well. It seems that the majority of Polynesians have forsaken Lono all together and have relegated their sense of culture and history down to dance shows at resorts. All of us, the few believers, can only hope that Lono is storing all of his energy and is gathering his family including his niece Pele the goddess of fire and volcanoes to strike down with great vengeance and furious anger upon the islands to make things right again.
Will Lono forsake me when his wrath rains down upon the islands? No. He will know that I named my late companion in his honor years ago. He was a fierce Tokay Gecko. He barked in outrage to the lack of respect of his namesake. He mutilated and scarred countless fingers of young virgins and sinners alike at parties for 5 years in San Francisco. I always said, “Whatever you do, don’t tempt him. Keep your fingers away from his mouth.” But they did not respect Lono, and what he stood for. They paid the price and because of their high blood alcohol levels their wounds would not stop bleeding. Lono would not ignore the blood spilled in his name.
When I arrived on the islands at the beginning of the year at the height of the Makahiki and things were getting desperate and we could not find a place to live I found myself turning down Lono Avenue, by accident, because I was lost. We had been camping all over the island for over a week and on some nights we were forced to sleep in Sergei’s Nissan Maxima when the bars at the triangle of Kihei rendered us unable to drive. We were ragged and beaten down by flooded campsites, $12 dollar cocktails, $20 dollar pu pu appetizers, having to shit in port-a-potties, and the refusal of landlords to rent to us. There was no hope. Then as I drove around the town of Kahului, I made the fateful turn onto Lono Avenue. It was not by accident. Immediately I saw the Seaside Hotel and pulled into the parking lot. We were in dire need of a hot shower, a comfortable bed, and a TV, but every hotel, motel, and resort online was either fully booked or charging over $250 dollars a night.
I walked into the Seaside Hotel hoping to avoid a complete mental and physical breakdown. “Aloha.” They had one room available due to a late cancelation, and it was only $80 bucks. We sat down on the bed, turned on the TV, and took showers, and then I went to Jack in the Box to get us cheeseburgers and shakes. When I returned Suzanne had contacted a person with an apartment to rent because we finally had wireless service (phone service on the island is bad to non-existent). We slept like babies that night and when we awoke there was an email from the renters saying they liked our email so much that they wanted to wait to rent out the apartment until they could meet us. We went to meet them, and they rented to us on the spot, no questions asked. It was another one of the many miracles given to me by Lono. He knows I am the only one left. The only one that realizes his legend had been stripped away to nothing. That it's been stripped down to a simple street name.
What a disgrace.
2/8/14