Prints in the Sand: My Journey with Nanea

I pitch in helping Nanea, Mary Lou, and Tutu haul small drums and baskets of costumes out to the hotel’s entrance, where Nanea’s grandfather is parked in a car that looks decades old. I try not to gawk, half-wondering if it’ll even start, let alone hold all of us. Somehow it manages both, plus two extra hula students who live nearby. Nanea explains that riding together saves gas. Tutu Kane says it also spares the tires, since rubber gets rationed for the war effort.

When we get to Nanea’s place, as we start hauling in the gear, Nanea hoists a cloth sack onto one shoulder. I offer to take it since it looks bulky. She thanks me and tells me it’s her gas mask. When she asks where mine is, I say nothing. Nanea asks if I left it at the beach. I still don’t answer, and Mary Lou offers to lend me David’s old one. He’s gotten a new army-issued one since he enlisted.

That same dark look passes over Nanea’s face again at her brother’s name. Quietly, she says she hopes he never has to use it, and that she already misses him more than anything. I manage a small, sad smile back, because I understand exactly what that feels like with Dad. But another worry crosses my head: will I even need a gas mask while I’m here?

I don’t get to meet Nanea’s father at dinner, since he’s pulling an extra shift at the shipyard. But I meet her mother, Mrs. Mitchell, who happens to make a delicious pineapple upside-down cake.

After dinner, Nanea and I do the dishes, and by the time we’re done, I hear a sweet tune coming out of the living room. Nanea says it’s her grandfather playing David’s ukulele. Tutu sits on one side of him on the couch, Mary Lou on the other. When we enter the room, Tutu Kane asks Nanea to dance for us. She begins a few steps, and I back away, praying she won’t ask me to dance with her.

Tutu explains that hula is how they tell stories. Like the legend of Pele. I ask who Pele is, and Tutu Kane’s strumming quiets. Tutu says Pele is the goddess of fire, and her elder sister is goddess of the sea. Her sister grew so afraid of Pele’s power that she banished her from their home. Pele escaped to the volcanoes on the big island of Hawaii, finally out of her sister’s reach, and performed a hula to celebrate beating her sister.

Nanea edges closer to Mary Lou and begins to act out the story. Laughing, Mary Lou hops up to play the sister. They dance together for a moment, and Mele barks, eager to join. Mrs. Mitchell shushes the dog, though Tutu just chuckles. She insists hula can also carry the kind of stories that live inside a person’s heart.

I wait, expecting Tutu to say something more, but she stays quiet. I can’t talk about what’s in my heart. Missing Dad hurts too much to put into words. But sitting here with Nanea’s family eases that pain, if only a little.

When Tutu Kane picks up a new melody, Nanea tugs me up to sway alongside her. I’m no dancer, not really, but no one laughs, and I remind myself I’m safe here. How funny to feel safe in the middle of a war.