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| Volcano School of Arts and Sciences students helped clean up Kaho'olawe. - Photo: Courtesy of Bill Harby |
Kaho'olawe inspires student poetry
To put it lightly, Kaho'olawe has had a rough 60 years. At the start of World War II, the U.S. Military assumed control of Kaho'olawe as a bombing target for training, with the assurance that the island would be returned when no longer needed for military purposes. By 1965, blasts had cracked the small fresh water well on the island rendering it incapable of holding fresh water and making the island all but uninhabitable. In the 1970s, the Protect Kaho'olawe 'Ohana led protests against the bombing and also held occupations of the island.
In 1993, Congress passed a law recognizing the cultural significance of the island and requiring the Navy to return the island to the State of Hawai'i. The bill also authorized federal funding for cleanup.
Today, schools and other groups frequently visit Kaho'olawe to work on the long road to restoration. Here are some accounts from the eighth-graders of Volcano School of Arts and Sciences on Hawai'i Island, who visited Kaho'olawe earlier this year.
Reflections On Kaho'olawe
Starting With Kaho'olawe
Dolphins dancing, trucks driving,
people planting,
the perfect harmony
between man and nature.
Swamping waves smashing students,
the blazing sun burns skin
with no trees to shelter us.
Digging holes in the sand,
digging holes in clay.
As we bounce around
in shock-less trucks,
we look back and see the work
we have completed as a team,
but also as a family.
I think to myself,
“It's still not enough. More can be done.”
What can a class of Big Island 8th graders do
against what has been done
by the Navy?
They tell us we are the future,
we are the hope for something better;
and before, it was in one ear
and out the other.
But now I realize,
as much as I don't want this
to be on my shoulders,
it really is true.
We have to do all we can.
Kaho'olawe is not the only place
that needs help.
But let's start small,
let's start with something
that never should have happened.
Let's start with Kaho'olawe,
plants stitching the wounds
of the past.
Kaho'olawe
Kaho'olawe, coated with bombs;
the burning hot weather making
the red dirt stick to us,
creating a new shade of skin.
We, working together as one,
communicating like the new plants
and the solid dirt,
planted together.
Kaho'olawe, the breezy wind upon our backs.
The waves form like a giant hand,
grabbing all of what's in its way,
adjusting its natural movement.
Being there was the most incredible feeling,
not worrying of what's on your mind.
It takes whatever is on your mind,
and it all disappears,
leaving a clean pathway for you
to relax and enjoy the moment.
Time moves quickly.
Kaho'olawe's Secret
Kaho'olawe, the piko island, the place of refuge
The one peaceful island,
Has an unknown secret.
Not a terrible secret, but an ordinary secret
Made by Kanaloa, many years ago.
Kaho'olawe, the first landing place,
Will tell us its story;
All we have to do is listen, listen very carefully.
It will tell us of many things;
Menehune, the others,
Of all the things to be told by an island
It tells of the hurting;
Metal, plastic, UXO.
It tells of the massage of the trucks and mules,
The feeling of plants and footprints.
It lets us know of pain and pleasure.
The secret of the island;
Well, there's two.
The island is dying,
Soon to be a corpse of nutrients;
But when the island moves on, something will happen.
A new island will be born,
and Kaho'olawe will be, too.
The second one is more obvious;
If you ever go there, you will know.
Just a feeling, no more;
Kaho'olawe will bring you back again and again.
Once again, I feel the wind in my hair,
The rush of adrenaline, sitting in the back of a truck
To the planting area, a giant Band-Aid
To begin the cycle all over again.
We act like fingers of a nurse, making the pain,
Just for a short time; then it feels better.
Paul is like a doctor, always working, rarely by you,
But always making you an eternal paradise.
The place of refuge is a paradise once again.
Hope
I never thought that I would feel
what I feel now for this land.
I see the pain and sorrow
when I look into the sand.
What used to bear life is now reduced
to nothing more than clay;
but if we help we can prove
that there really is a way.
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