“What? I only ever heard of Gordon Lightfoot.”
Minnow laughed. “The crabs. That’s what they’re called back home.”
“They’re ‘a‘amacrab to us. Where the hell did they get Sally Lightfoot?”
“I have no idea.”
It struck her that for all the immense tragedy and strangeness of the past week, the trip had also been full of tiny bright spots. The house—minus the bugs. The swims. Nalu. Woody. The warm,dreamy water. Even Angela. There was a connection there, sure as the sun. And then there was Luke. Enigmatic, gorgeous, and obviously hiding something. The jury was still out on whether he was a bright spot or not, but she’d enjoyed her swim with him today more than she wanted to.
“When was the last organized shark hunt on this island?” she asked.
“In ’75 they tried to have one up at Upolo Point.”
“Why, had there been an incident?”
“Nah, just for sport. ‘Shark charming,’ they called it. A man named Bowles decided he would make a day out of it, invite the whole island. My brother got wind of it, told him not a good idea, but he went ahead anyway. Cliff and I, we went up and made an offering to the ocean early that morning at Lapakahi, close by, warning the sharks of what was to come.”
He stopped and sipped his beer, and Minnow’s skin felt as though someone had pricked her with a million tiny needles. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear more, but he went on.
“You would not believe how many people came—thousands standing along the cliffs. These guys was selling hot dogs and shave ice and all kinds of crap, like one carnival. Brah, it was messed up. Bowles had gotten ahold of this dead cow, and his friends in a boat were dragging it back and forth in front of the cliffs. Every so often they would dump cans of blood from the slaughterhouse into the ocean.”
“My God, that’s sick.”
“You’re telling me. Bowles is one real macho dude, thinks he’s Rambo. He was pacing along the edge with a harpoon, just waiting for the sharks to show. There was a few other guys sitting in director chairs holding rifles like they was on safari. Hawaiian safari.”
The bitter taste of blood filled her mouth again, and she wanted to get up and run away from this story, away from the brutal acts humans are capable of—not in the name of survival, as with mostanimals, but simply because they could. And almost always, it was the men. “I’ve heard enough,” she said.
“No, my dear, you have not, because get this: Not one shark showed up that day. Not one,” he said, raising both hands in the air. “Mahalo ke Akua, someone heard our prayers. Because I’ve heard stories of the old days in those waters, and believe you me, they put one dead cow or pig in the water, and boom, get twenty big tigers within an hour or two.”
She did not ask what they did with those sharks they attracted.
“Amazing.”
“There are bigger things at play here, you better believe it. Mother Nature always gonna get the last word. So, even if Mayor Lum and his boys demand a hunt, we have the‘ainaon our side.”
“‘Aina?”
“The land. Wilderness. All of it, ocean too.”
“I like the sound of it, but still, we need to prevent that from happening.” She was curious about his brother Cliff. “What about your brother? Can he come to the meeting tomorrow?”
Woody slapped his thigh. “Hoooo, bad idea.”
“Why?”
“Cliff is... unpredictable. He’s the nicest guy, but you piss him off, watch out. Or not. Just depends on his mood that day, or which direction the winds are blowing. Or the phases of the moon.”
He sounded a little bit like her mother, and in some ways Minnow too. She could always feel the pull of the full moon on her own tides. And it made her think of the Hawaiian proverb—not to go in the water when thewiliwiliwas flowering. Ancient knowledge.
“Where does he live?”
“Hawi. He works for the forestry department, backcountry. Luckily he found the perfect job for someone with his temperament.”
“Maybe we need someone like him. Someone with a little fire, who people might sit up and listen to,” she said.
“Let’s see how tomorrow night goes, then we’ll see,” he said.
Journal Entry
