Promises...

With the patient help of a master 'ie'ie weaver, Kumulāʻau Sing, and in the company of the most Beautiful array of friends, I was able to slowly weave together a split-reed basket in the manner of my ancestors. It wasn't easy, as my fingers hurt, my hand cramped and I received little cuts here and there. I gained a true appreciation for the craftsmanship and vision of our beloved kūpuna, especially in their finest most intricate and perfectly designed utilitarian pieces now displayed in museums around the World. My hīnaʻi, or basket, left a lot to be desired, with crooked and broken weaves, and a lop-sided uneven finish.

But learning this skill allowed me to properly store some special Kaua'i pa'akai, or salt, next to the pūʻolo that I mālama, containing the iwi, or bones, of my beloved Mother. She awaits my Father's return to her so that I can properly and ceremoniously kanu, or bury them both together, when his time comes. Until that somber and bittersweet day, she lovingly and patiently awaits for him. She is still a part of our 'ohana, watching her grandson's grow-up. And deep down inside, I think she absolutely Loves the little lop-sided uneven and crooked basket made for her by her son. Still her little boy...