Prints in the Sand: My Journey with Nanea

An hour later we’re working our way up a steep dirt path. A sweet smell keeps drifting out of Nanea’s basket. I ask if it’s guava bread. Lily bursts out laughing, saying I sound like Donna, their friend who left the island. Nanea says Donna has a serious sweet tooth and would do anything for guava bread. Lily’s face falls as she says that the three of them were inseparable. Their parents called them the Three Kittens. Lily and Nanea each let out a wistful meow, missing her. I nearly join in myself, Kayla’s face popping into my mind. Climbing this trail with my two new friends is a blast. But it stirs up longing for my old friend, too.

Uncle Fudge, who’s been setting the pace at the front, jokes that he hears kittens trailing behind him. His hair gleams black just like Lily’s, and his smile carries the same warmth. Lily asks how much farther to the top. He tells her the destination isn’t the whole point, urging all of us to notice the flowers along the way.

He pauses beside a cluster of tiny blossoms, giving me a moment to shrug off my gas mask, the one David lent me. It weighs far more than I expected. I can hardly imagine hauling one everywhere during wartime, even partway up a mountain. Nanea drops her picnic basket beside mine. Soon we’re all catching our breath and soaking in the scenery around us: low, scrubby bushes, spiny cactus, and a hillside dotted with goats. Right on cue, one of the goats lets out a bleat. Nanea jokes that he’s reminding us to stop and admire the flowers, just like Uncle Fudge said.

Uncle Fudge chuckles, saying flowers aren’t all he smells right now. He asks whether Nanea’s basket might be hiding any oatmeal cookies. Nanea digs some out for him, along with a slice of guava bread for me. One bite and it tastes like Auntie Oli’s. Hopefully Mom remembers to get the recipe from Auntie Oli so we can still use it when we leave Hawaii.

Gazing out over that gorgeous valley, it hits me that leaving Hawaii will mean giving up more than I expected. The guava bread, for one. These new friendships, too. And the island’s sheer beauty. Volcanoes, though? I don’t think I’ll miss those.

Uncle Fudge pops the last bite of cookie into his mouth and tells everyone it’s time to keep moving. My stomach does somersaults as we approach the summit. Are we finally about to see a volcano, maybe even feel its heat?

Instead, nothing of the sort happens, and relief washes over me alongside the surprise. What greets us is all of Oahu laid out below. I see Honolulu’s skyline, the sands of Waikiki Beach, lush green valleys, distant mountain ridges, and miles of ocean so clear the turquoise water seems bottomless. The view is stunning enough that Uncle Fudge pauses beside me, shielding his eyes and drawing in a long breath, as if tasting the air itself.

Lily asks if he’s daydreaming about fishing, and he confesses that he sort of is. His mind had drifted to the Japanese fishermen whose sampans were confiscated and never returned. He points out a white boat off in the distance and says he’s pretty sure it’s a painted over sampan that the military now uses to patrol the shore.

I ask Nanea why the boats were taken. Her eyes blaze with anger. She explains that after Japan bombed Pearl Harbor, officials feared Japanese fishermen might be spies using their boats to meet enemy submarines. The FBI even arrested Uncle Fudge just because he’s Japanese.

Uncle Fudge says softly that he’s home now, giving Nanea’s shoulder a squeeze as he steers the conversation elsewhere. Gesturing past Honolulu toward a flat-topped, greenish-brown mountain, he asks who can tell him about Leahi. Lily jumps in first, saying it’s called Leahi because its silhouette resembles a long ahi tuna. Nanea chimes in that her grandfather says the crater is also called Diamond Head, since sailors long ago mistook glinting light at its peak for diamonds.

“Wait, that’s the volcano?” I say through a relieved laugh. It’s so far away. I figured we’d get much closer to one today. Nanea shoots me an odd look and gestures back down the path we’d just climbed. She says we already climbed out of one. Following her gaze, I finally notice the bowl-shaped crater sitting right beneath our feet. We’d been standing inside a volcano this whole time.

I feel foolish, and also relieved. I thought there’d be more lava and fire. Uncle Fudge points out that the last eruption struck happened a hundred thousand years ago. Still, he winks, staying truly safe means paying respects to Pele, the volcano goddess.

Nanea says if we spot an elderly woman with long white hair, we should greet her with aloha and offer food and flowers. Lily teases that I’ve already eaten all the guava bread, and I can’t help laughing.

The only person I know with long white hair is Auntie Oli. Still, I scan the valley below anyway, half hoping to catch a glimpse of Pele. My arms prickle with goose bumps, which I quickly rub away so no one notices. Being afraid of volcanoes is embarrassing enough. I’d rather not have my new friends learn I’m also scared of volcano goddesses.

Nanea asks if we see the rows of beat-up old cars down in a distant field. They’re sitting out in the open like an abandoned junkyard. Uncle Fudge tells us those jalopies are placed there on purpose, to stop enemy aircraft from touching down. It’s the same reason barbed wire was strung along the beaches to keep enemy ships from landing. So that’s why there was barbed wire on the beach. Just when I start to forget the war, there’s something to remind me of it.

Glancing back toward Punchbowl, I realize how silly my volcano worries were. A hundred thousand years have passed without a single eruption here. Yet an actual war rages across Oahu at this very moment. I can’t help wondering how something so terrible can exist alongside such beauty, or how Nanea manages to live while being scared all the time.

There she is, offering Lily a wildflower she’d picked up off the ground, almost like a small tribute to Pele. She’s showing aloha, I realize, the same warmth she’s extended to me this whole time. Maybe that’s her secret for staying so positive.

Still, I know things haven’t been easy for Nanea. she hides in the closet during blackouts, and worries about David at night. I worry a lot about Dad, too. But at least the war he’s fighting is far away, instead of at home.

Home. The word catches me off guard. Not once before today have I thought of Hawaii that way. Then again, climbing a volcano, tasting papaya, and inventing a hula with brand-new friends were all firsts, too. So I test the word again silently, just to see how it settles. Home.