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Under the Sun Cynthia Oi |
Lost in the translation
of the desire for island livingSATURDAY routines cycle a course through a few vestiges of natural beauty in urban Honolulu, pockets here and there that have escaped human alterations.
The way home from the farmers' market trails along streets that fall away from Diamond Head. The early hour on a weekend morning culls traffic so that driving below the speed limit doesn't result in beeps from harried types ordinarily encountered on our cluttered roadways.
There's time to goggle at the expanse of the Waianae range, distinct when the trades have purged most of Friday's haze and Saturday's has yet to accumulate. Even through a rusting chain-link fence and around derelicts of once-coveted household appliances abandoned on Makapuu Avenue, you can see the blunt profile of Mount Kaala and the frill of ridges stretching over the horizon 20 miles west.
A left turn then a quick right transfer orientation north where Mauumae Ridge leans away from its moorings in the Koolaus, crested with clouds as the atmosphere adjusts to the warming land below. Beyond the angular overlay of homes clinging to the contours of Maunalani Heights and Wilhelmina Rise, the hills curl in soothing shades of green.
Later in the morning, the trusty Toyota funnels past an intersection that I nominate as one of the ugliest parts of Honolulu.
At one corner, a flat of cinderblock houses a nail salon -- a type of enterprise that has boomed in numbers lately, much to my puzzlement -- and an eatery that seems to change name and market focus every six months. Across the way, a gas station, where a tussock of grass and flowers gallantly dab color in a field of asphalt and concrete, stands dwarfed by a hardware emporium adorned only by a scattering of priced-to-move potted plants.
On the other side of the street, a muffler shop declares its presence with a garish sign and an abrupt ramp to its rooftop. Next door, veiled in a dusting of grime, is a two-story building whose purpose remains a mystery. Overhead, power lines unreel in every direction. In the background heaves the bulk of the H-1 that adds hisses and rattles of vehicles to a general din from traffic below.
But a few steps mauka, where Palolo Stream sheds the cement that confines its upper reaches, sunlight glimmers as the water finds its own course, strands of moss going with the flow.
There's no way to stem the spread of human habitation across Oahu. Too many forces propel further development. The desire among residents old and new for homes with attendant roads, sewers and utility lines, cannot be stemmed. Neither can the unquenchable need for increasing tax revenues, the economics of building and selling housing, the commerce that quickens the city's pulse day by day.
So it falls to Honolulu's leaders to envision an end product, what the island will look and feel like when all that can be built out is pau. For all his troubles, Jeremy Harris has never been short in the "vision" department. Long before others latched onto his ideals for a Honolulu encircled by green spaces, a city weaned from its auto addiction, a pedestrian-partial urban terrain, the outgoing mayor was pushing his dream. He was unable to transmit his ambition, largely because others who could have helped it along had their own concerns, and because of the nature of the political beast.
Now come candidates who want to step into Harris's shoes, 10 men and women by my count. Two of these have the backing of major political parties and so a better chance of winning the job, which is way differing from doing the job.
These men have yet to detail their "visions." Both have been squawking about stolen campaign signs and who won't debate whom, teasing voters with remarks about corruption, collecting endorsements from one special interest group or another.
Enough with the platitudes and accusations. Voters want substance, not soft-focus TV ads that offer only glimpses of a candidate, much like the small peeks between chain links of a once-fair island.
See the Columnists section for some past articles.
Cynthia Oi has been on the staff of the Star-Bulletin since 1976. She can be reached at: coi@starbulletin.com.