By ENG 104 students: Emma Huntzicker, Jayme Baclaan-Kanuha, Marie Cris Sijalbo, & Leinaʻala Young

Venturing out of the classroom and onto the campus, we were struck by the sticky heat of the afternoon in contrast to the cool, air-conditioned room we had just left behind. A heavy breeze battered our skin as we trailed behind the professor like misfit ducklings. We quickly came to our first destination on our journey, the giant banyan tree. Its splayed branches offered a delicious respite from the hot Maui sun. As we stood beneath its teetering limbs, marveling at its stature, it’s rustling leaves seemed to whisper to us:

“Do you crave shelter? Do you seek shade? Come hide beneath my swaying branches. Come rest upon my rough, cool trunk. Listen to my leaves dance and twirl with the wind. Watch the gentle sunlight trickle in through my limbs. My tendrils twist like tentacles, rooting me to the earth. My boughs weave between my neighbors–the palms–and rest gently upon the pavilion roof. Do you see the birds that repose in my peaks? They are my neighbors, too. Towards the sky I reach, up towards the clouds and sun. I need the space to stretch my reaching limbs, though contain me you surely will try.” 

like mother’s arms

I will protect 

from pitiless sun 

—Emma Huntzicker

“I cannot be like the Bronze trees. My bark is soft and susceptible. When gouged, I bleed. My bark will wither and flake off like scabs, revealing new flesh underneath. A fire could take me. The floods could rot my roots. The animals who call me home could turn against me–poison me with blight and disease. I am not immortal.”

a heart of soft

and vulnerable wood

the Banyan’s plight

—Emma Huntzicker

Stepping away from the shelter of the Banyan tree, we cleared our heads and trekked on to our next stop–the Bronze tree sculpture. The temperature seemed even worse here, and we quickly huddled against the artificial branches, though little they did little to keep us cool. Quietly observing the brazen metal figures under the influence of the encompassing warmth, we heard another voice speak its mind:

“In the middle of this field, we catch eyes as our colors shine. Our bronze shows this luxurious style of ours. There are five of us surrounding the depiction of the island of Maui as if we’re protecting it. Our curved bodies are sculpted the same, our branches that expand are spread out with no difference, even our leaves will never change. When the rain and sun come, no roots will crawl out from us, no leaves can fall, and our branches will never extend. When the light shines upon us, we devour the heat, so when one touches us, a hot feeling trickles down your skin. If you seek shade, little is what we can give you, stay close by our side and a shield from the light or wetness may be lent.”

a windy day 

leaves have fallen 

will be unbroken 

—Marie Cris Sijalbo

“We’re nothing like any other tree, the sound of the bell as you tap our trunks unravels our strength, our bodies are like armor that cannot be broken easily. No one can ever snap a branch or pluck a leaf from us. Not even a storm could topple us. We will never die.” 

endless daytime

here we emerge

never gone

—Marie Cris Sijalbo

We departed the Bronze trees and traversed the field to the Makahiki Mural. Surrounding the mural were different varieties of edible plants such as kalo and ti leaf. The majestic pictorial representation illustrated the various activities and events that occur during this time. The exuberant scene depicted our ancestors having fun and enjoying the joyous season. The wind seemed cooler, though the sun still shone hot and bright. The mural vividly spoke of community and togetherness, but it also had a few other words to say:

“Here are my ali`i standing tall, observing and smiling with approval of all that they witness before them. Observe the native Hawaiian men practicing lua and the beautiful Native Hawaiian women dancing hula. You can see a small group of Hawaiians playing Konane. Looking deeper, you may notice the Holua sledders racing down the mauna. My images speak of sustainability, family, and relationships–evoking within you a sense of cultural pride in the way they show the beautiful connection between the people and the land.”

Gazing upon the mural was like being transported back in time. For many of us, it calls from a place deep within that spoke of something missing in our lives and the lives of other Native Hawaiians today. 

Ancestors call

season soon begins

I feel so lost

—Leina’ala Young

We left the mural and walked the short distance to our final destination, the satellite. Looming over us, dirty and ugly, it hummed in its dark tone:

“I am different than those before me. No roots anchor me. I am not a community-driven dream, not built on remembrance of the past. I am a crucial part of growth and progress. I stand tall and proud; towering over the vegetation kept at bay by the metal chain-linked fence encircling me, for they may impede on what I do best. My looks may have dwindled throughout the ages, from my pristine sheeny white to this filthy, ragged and dirt-covered object that I have become. The temperature seems to have risen around me, chasing off and killing the nearby life. The air is dry and hot where I am located, but the earthy scent remains throughout the year. When you are near, you may hear a strange whirring sound coming from behind; drowning out most–if not all–sounds of nature.”

the winter spire

stands tall in a 

desolate wasteland

—Jayme Baclaan-Kanuha

“However, I am vital to you. I gather information and whizz it around at astronomical rates from places far and wide, sending them to you in the convenience of an air-conditioned room within seconds. I am constantly working without rest to give those who can access me the necessity of the vast pool of knowledge with a touch of a button and a press of a key. Without me, how are you to function? Without me, can you really progress into the future?”

the mystic moon 

shines very bright 

and shadows the past 

—Jayme Baclaan-Kanuha