Without hesitation, Irene made eye contact with the students and submerged herself in her story the way she had lowered herself into the waterfall pool—fearlessly. Once she was in, she moved about with grace and agility.
“I want to tell you the story of a surfer girl who was 100 percent Hawaiian. She learned to surf the long boards off the Kohala Coast and was known as a graceful and agile surfer. She was called a flirt and had elegant tattoos on her legs, left palm, and even one on her tongue. One night she swam five miles in shark-infested waters to be with the man she loved.”
All the students had fixed their attention on Irene.
“This surfer girl was six feet tall. Her name was Ka’ahumanu.”
The students quietly murmured and exchanged glances. Carissa guessed that they thought at first Irene was talking about a modern surfer girl, but they definitely recognized Ka’ahumanu’s name when they heard it.
For the next twenty-five minutes, Irene held them spellbound as she rolled out story after story about this amazing woman. Several of the stories Carissa hadn’t heard yet. The students were transfixed as Irene told them how Ka’ahumanu changed the old laws, forbade the young girls to swim out to the ships, and outlawed the killing of babies.
Every eye was on Irene, as she talked about the showdown with the priestess, who came to Lahaina with the message from Pele.
One story that caused the students to laugh was when Irene described how Ka’ahumanu resisted the missionaries’ teachings at first and how she deliberately went surfing on Sunday morning while church service was going on.
“One Sunday, after the proper missionaries returned to the main house after service, Ka’ahumanu came by for a visit. Still dripping with salt water, she draped her large frame all the way across the missionaries’ upholstered settee. The missionaries didn’t know where to look because, as Lucy Thurston wrote of the experience, ‘She came as if from Eden, in the dress of innocence.’”
The students quickly caught on as to what that meant and exchanged naughty looks and giggles.
“Her relationship with the missionaries changed, though. At one church service she attended, Charles Stewart was preaching on the passage, ‘Thy Word is a lamp unto my feet.’ Suddenly Ka’ahumanu wailed in the tradition of ancient Hawaiian mourners, ‘Auwe!’”
The sound that came from tiny Irene surprised the students, but it especially startled Carissa. It was a sound of despair and deep loss.
“Pastor Stewart had to stop the service. He asked her to tell him what was wrong. This is what she said.” Irene turned, as she had a number of times, to the pages in the binder and read in a powerful voice, as if she were demonstrating the force of Ka’ahumanu. “‘We were all in thick darkness. We wandered here, and we wandered there, and stumbled on this side and on that side and were hastening to the dreadful precipice down which our fathers have fallen.’
“Charles Stewart later wrote that he began to see changes in her such as a softened state of feeling, in her countenance, manners, dress, and whole deportment.”
Looking up from the papers she was reading, Irene said to the students, “I believe that was the beginning of Ka’ahumanu’s conversion to Christianity. She learned to read and write the Hawaiian language. One day during lessons she wrote a message on her slate and read it aloud.”
Irene paused. She shifted her weight on her cane and seemed to be catching her breath. Carissa realized Irene had been going strong for a long time, standing with her cane. It seemed as if she were looking for a quote to read from her notes but couldn’t locate it.
Instead, rallying her strength and heading for the conclusion of the story, Irene picked up with the details she had relayed to Carissa the night before about Ka’ahumanu being on her deathbed and receiving the first New Testament and then reciting the words of the native hymn.
With perspiration glistening on her forehead and her voice fading, Irene held up her notes and concluded with an admirable push of strength. “David Malo wrote of her passing, and these are the final lines of his chant:
“‘Lilo aku la I ka paia ku a Kane,
I ke ala muki maawe ula a Kanaloa,
Keehikulani aku la ka hele ana.’”
“‘She has gone from us, to the courts of Kane,
Treading royally the red-streaked path of the rosy dawn
the misty, broken road to Kanaloa.
An ebbing tide flows out.’”
Looking out over the gathering of students with a calm and steady gaze, Irene said, “Ka’ahumanu is a woman of your history. She was born in a cave on Maui and died on a bed of maile leaves not far from where we stand right now. She …”
Irene seemed to have lost her train of thought. She glanced at her papers and then back at the students. “This is …”
Carissa thought Irene didn’t look well. Her coloring had changed. She seemed confused, as if she had more to say, but she couldn’t remember what it was.
Quickly getting up from the front pew, Carissa went to the steps at the side of the stage and motioned for Irene to come that way. She came toward Carissa, her feet shuffling. Carissa offered her a hand to steady her as she walked down the three steps.
The chapel suddenly filled with applause. As soon as Irene was down the last step, Carissa looked over her shoulder and saw that all the students had risen to their feet and were clapping for dear Irene.
“Do you need to sit down?” Carissa noticed that Irene’s arm felt cold and clammy.
“Yes.”
Catherine was right beside them and ushered them around the back to where a small room was prepared for them with snacks and a couch. Carissa helped Irene to sit down and then brought her a bottle of water.
“Are you okay?” she asked after Irene took a sip of the water.
“My heart pill. I forgot to take it this morning. Dan will be so upset.”
“Do you have any with you?” Carissa reached for Irene’s tote bag that Catherine had brought when she ushered the two of them to the back room.
Instead of answering, Irene tried to take another sip of water. It dribbled out the side of her mouth.
Carissa reached for the water bottle just as Irene was about to drop it. Irene lowered her eyes. Her head fell forward.
“Irene? Irene!”
The lovely dove of a woman didn’t answer.
18
“E ha maluna o’u
I ola au a mau
Noho a pa’a wau me ‘oe
Iloko’ka maha la’i.”
“Breathe on me, breath of God,
Fill me with life anew,
That I may love what thou dost love,
And do what thou wouldst do.”
CATHERINE CALLED FOR AN ambulance while Carissa checked Irene’s wrist for a pulse. It was faint but still there. Catherine then phoned the doctor in residence on campus while Carissa tried to position Irene so she could breathe properly.
Grabbing Irene’s tote bag, Carissa dumped out the contents on the table beside the couch. Inside a plastic sandwich bag were two prescription bottles.
“Does she take both?” Catherine asked.
“I don’t know.” Carissa reached for her cell phone. “I’m calling her husband.”
The on-campus doctor, who had been in the assembly, entered the back room and assessed the situation.
“Dan, it’s Carissa. I’m with Irene on Oahu, and she said she forgot to take her heart pill. I found the two prescription bottles in her bag. Does she take both?”
“Yes, one of each. She knows that. She should have taken them this morning.”
“Okay. I’ll call you right back.” Carissa handed the bottles to the doctor and relayed Dan’s instructions. She then stepped to the side, thinking of how Dr. Walters always wanted space when he examined a patient.
Two other people from the school staff entered the small room, their expressions full of questions and concerns. Catherine suggested all of them leave to let the doctor have room. Carissa’s cell phone rang,
so she slipped out with the others to talk to Dan.
“Is she all right? What happened? Where is she? I’ll come right now.”
“The doctor is with her. We’re at the school on Oahu. The doctor has her pills, and we called an ambulance; so if there’s a need, we can get her to the hospital.”
“What happened? Did she faint?”
Carissa gave Dan all the details and promised to call him back the minute she knew anything further. She then returned to the room.
Irene was stretched out on the couch with her feet raised. Her eyes were open, and the doctor was talking with her, holding her wrist and checking her pulse. Carissa hung back. The door opened and two EMTs entered. As the on-campus doctor gave an update, one of the EMTs pulled a stethoscope from his bag and went to Irene.
During the next ten minutes, the emergency scenario changed to one of mixed assessments. In the end, Irene had her way and chose not to go to the hospital. Carissa had Dan on the phone while the decisions were made, and he agreed with Irene’s choice.
Before Carissa hung up, Dan said, “Promise me you’ll take good care of her for me. The woman can be stubborn.”
“I’ll take care of her. Don’t worry.”
By the time the EMTs were on their way out, Irene seemed herself and was offering them gracious smiles and thanks.
Now that the crisis had passed, the next dilemma was what to do about the second gathering of students, who were now entering the chapel.
“We can cancel,” Catherine said.
“I might be all right to go a second round. Just give me a minute.”
Carissa had kept quiet in the middle of all the diagnosing and decision-making, but as she looked at Irene, she knew the woman needed more than her indomitable spirit to keep her going onstage for another thirty-five minutes.
“No,” Carissa said plainly. “You don’t need to go for a second round, Irene. I promised your husband I would take good care of you; so I’m making the decision for you. For all of us.”
Irene’s gentle brown eyes appeared large through her round glasses. A winsome expression touched her lips. “What a good idea! You can tell them.”
“Okay. I’ll tell the students the assembly is cancelled.”
“No, no, no.” Irene pointed a determined finger at Carissa. “I want you to tell them about Ka’ahumanu. You have heard everything before. You have all my notes. You can do this for me.”
Carissa swallowed quickly and shook her head. “I don’t think I can. No. I’m not a storyteller like you. I’m uncomfortable speaking in front of crowds.”
“They aren’t a crowd. They are a little flock. This is their story. Please, give them their story.” Irene lowered her head, and with both hands she removed the kukui-nut lei, lifting it over her matted-down hair and handing it to Carissa.
Not knowing what else she could possibly do at the moment, Carissa reached for the lei, watching Irene’s weary arm fall to her side. She smiled at Carissa and said nothing. The message was clear.
Carissa didn’t remember placing the kukui-nut-and-woven-gift-box lei over her own head, nor did she remember the introduction by Kahu Kalama as she sat in the front row frantically scanning Irene’s notes.
But she did remember what the faces of the “little flock” looked like when she took her place behind the steady wood podium. They were curious. Open. Perhaps even a bit expectant.
Clearing her throat and hearing it resound in the fixed microphone, she leaned back slightly and began with the same opening Irene had used. “I want to tell you the story of a surfer girl who was 100 percent Hawaiian. She learned to surf the long boards off the Kohala Coast and was known as a graceful and agile surfer. She was called a flirt and had elegant tattoos on her legs, left palm, and even one on her tongue. One night she swam five miles in shark-infested waters to be with the man she loved.”
She could feel the engaged stares from all the students. They appeared eager to sip from whatever this cup was that she had just offered them.
The rest of the half hour she felt the same way she had years ago when trying to drive a stick-shift car for the first time. Lunge, stall, restart, pop the clutch. It was a jumpy, bumpy journey, but the students stayed with her for the most part. Then she arrived at the final destination, the close of Ka’ahumanu’s life.
While reading from the notes, Carissa reached the part where Irene had seemed to lose her place in her earlier presentation. Ka’ahumanu had become softened toward Christianity. She had learned to read and write and had written a message on the slate board that was read aloud. Since Carissa could see the message from the slate included in the notes, she read it to the students, trying to employ the same powerful voice Irene had used when she was quoting Ka’ahumanu. “This is what Ka’ahumanu wrote and read aloud: ‘I am making myself strong …’”
Carissa felt a catch in her throat. Those were words she had thought a number of times this past week, but usually they referred to her intention to become strong apart from any sort of dependence on Richard or God.
Quickly pulling herself back into the moment, Carissa continued to read Ka’ahumanu’s words. “‘I am making myself strong. I declare in the presence of God, I repent of my sin and believe God to be our Father.’”
The words seemed to fly like an arrow, straight into Carissa’s heart. She, too, had made such a declaration, such a commitment, when she was a teenager at summer camp. Now, in this vivid moment, she felt compelled to reaffirm that commitment. To repent of her sins and believe anew that God was her Heavenly Father, and that her salvation was through him alone.
Carissa adjusted the papers, as if she had lost her place. The truth was, her heart was finding its proper place, there in the presence of God and hundreds of waiting witnesses.
It took only a few seconds for Carissa to silently whisper her inward recommitment. She didn’t imagine any of the students knew they had just seen a very private, sacred ceremony. With a sense of childlike faith and a tone of wonder in her voice, Carissa heard herself say to all the students, “I, too, believe God to be my Father.”
Glancing at the windows in the back of the chapel, Carissa noticed it was raining. The rain came down in a fine sheet of mistlike droplets. It was the first time she had seen it rain since she had been on the islands, and it looked to her as if the building were being covered with a sheer veil. She felt safe. Protected.
Carissa concluded by reading directly from Irene’s notes regarding the details of the final years of Ka’ahumanu’s life. “‘She circled the islands, teaching alongside the missionaries and exhibiting the transformation Christ had created in her attitudes and actions. Everywhere she went the people looked on her with awe and reverence. The haughtiness of her youth was gone. She cared for the sick and elderly, communed with commoners, and shared with each of them her growing love for Ke Akua and his Word.
“‘Ka’ahumanu died just before dawn on June 5, 1832. In many ways it was a new dawn for the Hawaiian people. She had exerted her influence to put an end to the worship of the ancient idols, changed the laws to protect her people, and openly expressed her abiding commitment to Christ and the way of salvation. Within the next two decades, Hawaii became the most literate and most Christian nation per capita in the world.’”
Carissa was at the end of Irene’s notes, but she didn’t know how to end the talk. She looked out at the students. They were a beautiful little flock. Tenderness filled her heart. Extending her arms out and opening her palms to the students, she said, “This is your story. A story of one of your women. I give this story to you today with much aloha.”
She could think of nothing else to say. Lowering her arms, she picked up the binder and stepped down from the stage. The moment her foot touched the first step, the room filled with applause, just as it had for Irene. Carissa felt overwhelmed, seeing the students rise to their feet as they continued to clap.
Instead of going to the front row and sitting down, she went out the back to the room where Ire
ne was resting. Tears clouded her eyes. She couldn’t believe how she felt in that moment. She had participated in something powerful. More than that, God had come close, very close to her, and drew her heart back into the hollow of his hand.
Feeling buoyant and incredibly free, Carissa entered the back room and smiled when she saw Irene sitting up, sipping a cup of tea. Her color was back, and her eyes had their clear glow once again.
Catherine was beside Irene, and the campus doctor sat opposite her.
“We heard the applause,” Catherine said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t in there to show you my support.”
“No, you were in the right place, here with Irene. You’re looking much better.”
“I’m just fine. Quite embarrassed, but just fine. Dan is not a bit happy with me at the moment. I promised him we would try to catch an earlier flight back, if that’s all right with you. He insisted on flying home today as well.”
“Of course. Yes. Anything you want.” Turning to the doctor, Carissa asked, “It’s okay for her to fly?”
“Yes. All her vital signs are good.”
Carissa removed the kukui-nut lei from around her neck and placed it back on Irene, who started to protest but was quickly silenced. “I was only the substitute teacher. This belongs to you.”
A tap on the door was followed by the entrance of Kahu Kalama. His face was beaming. “I’m glad to see you sitting up and looking so well.”
“I am well.”
“What a wonderful gift both of you have brought to our students. Three of them came up to me and said they wanted to research other important people in Hawaiian history and write stories about them. You have started something here today. Both of you. This is a strong catalyst for our next generation.”