Hawai'i Ways, Hawai'i Days
Down by the old Manoa Stream . . .
By Roy K. Uehara
Special to The Advertiser
Hawai'i ways, Hawai'i days; days like Huckleberry Finn's, Hawaiian-style.
Simple, carefree, hang-loose elementary school days in Manoa Valley during the late 1930s. Swimming in the clean, clear, cool waters of Manoa Stream with friends was a treat, a fun thing. All of the popular swimming areas had nicknames: Small Pond, Stone Pond, Nishi Pond, Ginger Pond and Mountain Pond. We normally hid our clothes in the bushes or on the nearby hau or other trees before going swimming.
There were also times when others, mostly older boys, stumbling upon our hidden clothes ... (would) with mischievous delight "chewbeef" our trousers. "Chewbeefing" is a prankster's way of creating a supertight knot on each trouser leg by having two guys, one on each end, making a knot and pulling hard like two tow-trucks. Adding insult to injury on some occasions, we would find our chewbeefed trousers tossed onto the upper branches of a tree. Skinny dipping was acceptable when one had forgotten to bring swimming shorts but no fun later while trying to retrieve pants on a tree with nothing on. Ever try untying chewbeefed trousers? It is da pits! As my grandchildren would now say of the pranksters, "How rude!"
Our house was quite a distance from other homes and located in the middle of nowhere. Nearby was a cow pasture belonging to Mitsunaga Dairy and surrounded by barbed wire fences. A long and narrow dirt road led to our house. It was dark at night with no street lamps or lights, so we rarely ventured out after sunset. One exception was a once-a-month evening movie shown outdoors at the Manoa Japanese Language School. There were some scary, hair-raising "obake" ghost movies that gave me a cold sweat. Especially on occasions when I had to walk home alone after the movies.
Heck, I didn't walk, I was airborne. My feet moved so fast, they didn't get a chance to touch the ground and I never, never looked back to see if anything was following me. The worst times were the dark, moonless nights when everything was pitch black, with tall, dark intimidating bushes on both sides of the dirt road. Wild imagination got the best of me as I expected an obake ghost to suddenly appear in front or tap me on the shoulders from the back. My mom was very sympathetic of my fear.
To preserve my sanity, Mom and I dreamt up a super ghost-busting agreement. Whenever either of us needed to venture out after dark, we would go together, carrying a kerosene lantern. We also had an understanding whereby in the event we did bump into a ghost, we would in no way antagonize it. Instead, we would hang on to each other, yell "Obake!!!" and run like hell.
Roy K. Uehara lives in Salt Lake.
