The Arrival

The Arrival K A R E V A M A T E A T A - A L L A I N "Trageeeedie . . ." The shrill voice of Barry Gibb of the Bee Gees rings through my head. My energy sinks even deeper into the bus seat. I remember where I am, though I barely recollect the details of the long excursion through canyons and wide desert spaces dotted with mobile homes and mesquite bushes. Has it only been four days, or four years, four decades, four lifetimes? My spirit wanders through a fog, numb from shock and cold winter desertscapes that speed past the window. I wonder what my best friend, Hinano, is doing now. She is from Ra`iätea, the island where my grandfather was born. For Hawaiians and New Zealand Mäori, the tiny island of Ra`iätea is their Havaiki, the sacred place of their beginnings. An image of Hinano flits in between the electrical poles to my left. Slightly built, her complexion a creamy cappuccino, she refuses to wear breeches and has perpetual saddle sores on the inside of her bare knees. Keeping her black, wavy hair in a short ponytail, she wears cheap rubber flip-flops, http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Manoa University of Hawai'I Press

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Publisher
University of Hawai'I Press
Copyright
Copyright © 2006 University of Hawai'i Press.
ISSN
1527-943x
Publisher site
See Article on Publisher Site

Abstract

K A R E V A M A T E A T A - A L L A I N "Trageeeedie . . ." The shrill voice of Barry Gibb of the Bee Gees rings through my head. My energy sinks even deeper into the bus seat. I remember where I am, though I barely recollect the details of the long excursion through canyons and wide desert spaces dotted with mobile homes and mesquite bushes. Has it only been four days, or four years, four decades, four lifetimes? My spirit wanders through a fog, numb from shock and cold winter desertscapes that speed past the window. I wonder what my best friend, Hinano, is doing now. She is from Ra`iätea, the island where my grandfather was born. For Hawaiians and New Zealand Mäori, the tiny island of Ra`iätea is their Havaiki, the sacred place of their beginnings. An image of Hinano flits in between the electrical poles to my left. Slightly built, her complexion a creamy cappuccino, she refuses to wear breeches and has perpetual saddle sores on the inside of her bare knees. Keeping her black, wavy hair in a short ponytail, she wears cheap rubber flip-flops,

Journal

ManoaUniversity of Hawai'I Press

Published: Oct 4, 2005

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