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Live Aloha Campaign Recap

Jun 26, 2009 | By James Koshiba

When the founders of Kanu Hawaii first got together a few years ago, one of the things that worried us most was the slow deterioration of aloha in the islands. We wanted our kids and grandkids to grow up in a place where a spirit of compassion was tangible, and where that spirit could continue to bridge differences in ethnicity, wealth, faith, and culture as it did when we grew up. People in our islands embrace each other differently than people in other places - it's one of the reasons we choose to live here.

But at a time like this when the economy is down and everyone is struggling, aloha gets harder to live and share. Suspicion, fear, and blame get easier. It's tempting to divide up, look after your own, and fight for a piece of the pie.  It's hard to act with caring, especially toward people who might seem so different that we start to see them as..."them" (not one of "us"). During tough times, aloha is at risk, but also more needed than ever.

Saturday was a response to this perceived moment of danger. But how to actually boost the level of aloha? How to make it real and tangible?

We thought we'd start with work, for as the poet Gibran says "work is love made visible." A lot of good work got done across the islands on Saturday. On Hawaii Island, members helped fix up vacant public housing units so new families could move in. On Kauai, with help from Leadership Kauai, we worked with families to build their own homes. On Oahu, we helped clean the grounds at the Salvation Army shelter for homeless women and children in Manoa; and we painted, planted, and cleaned with IHS at Kuhio Park Terrace in Kalihi.

But, as we tried to make clear when we announced this campaign, Saturday was about more than volunteering. We wanted to use work as a way to bridge divides of suspicion and fear that keep us from treating each other compassionately.

We made visible improvements to our communities, but was aloha itself increased in a tangible way?

As members began signing up for Saturday, some confided in me that they were afraid to go to Kuhio Park Terrace (KPT) - a place they knew as notorious for deterioration, crime, and violence. 

As we set up the registration table on the morning of the event, KPT residents asked me “Who you guys?” and cast sideways looks at the volunteers streaming into their neighborhood.

At Manoa, some volunteers were a little anxious about working with homeless mothers and their children.

And, among the shelter mothers, there was apprehension too -- for some, only recently recovered from addiction, it would be their first community interaction in a long time.

I wasn't as close to the projects on Kauai and Hawaii Island, but I imagine some of the same pre-event anxiety there.

All of us came to Live Aloha Day with this in common: We had misguided assumptions about each other.  And, we were all nervous about what the other folks would think of us. When we stepped across that line and got to know each other, assumptions began to fade, and the level of aloha in our community was raised up.

You could feel it as more than 400 volunteers assembed at KPT, including 150+ residents, ready to work.  You could see it in the enthusiasm of KPT kids painting furiously alongside Kanu members.

It was evident when Kauai's self-help families offered to chip-in to buy volunteers lunch during a break from framing new houses.  It was visible as people sweat together, digging holes where ulu saplings would be planted.

I saw it when Percy Retonong of KPT "adopted" my mom for the day ("my daughter's name is Jane, too" she said) and they cleaned at Tower B together. And, when the Solid Rock Assembly of God served lunch to hundreds of us.

Many at Manoa felt it when Kanu members and keiki from the shelter worked, read, crafted, and lunched together. And, the photos from Waimea show a team of public housing residents and Kanu volunteers bound in unity of purpose.

New Kanu member Leilani N. from the Manoa shelter posted this in our blog following the event:

"Today was a blessing. Thank you to each and every one of you who showed up. This is a long hard journey for many of us. At times, it's hard to focus on staying clean and sober and dealing with our everyday lives. We get tied down with trying to make a future for our children and ourselves. We are so lucky to have a roof over our heads at this wonderful home, we sometimes lack keeping up with everyday tasks and keeping our homes maintained. I appreciate you bringing activities for the children...I can't tell you how awesome it was. But, overall what stands out for myself was the chance to interact with normal people. We are all women that had a bad disease of addiction and never functioned with normal people. A lot of us find it uncomfortable to communicate with people because for so long we didn't. Thank you...One day, when I get more stable, I would love to give back and volunteer..."

Brent Kakesako who organized the Manoa site, posted this in his journal:

"I simply was overwhelmed by the amount of support from everyone who showed up this past Saturday and from individuals who donated everything from food to arts and crafts supplies to yard supplies in the days leading up to the project. Truthfully, I wasn't sure how it would turn out and I was actually quite nervous the night before...I personally learned alot...I had to expand my own comfort zone...I hope everyone felt welcome and I enjoyed meeting such varied personalities who were all an inspiration to me."

That's a tangible result.

And here's another: In the coming weeks, Brent and other Kanu members will be back at the Salvation Army shelter, meeting up with mothers and resident managers to talk about next steps. Another group will talk story with people from KPT's church and community center. This Sunday, I'll be on Hawaii Island, in Waikoloa working on fixing up vacant public housing units there.

Living aloha means...well...living it. That doesn't mean measuring aloha by how often we volunteer. It does mean coming together, again and again, to do the hard work.  Not the work of planting, painting, or fixing - but the really hard work of understanding each other's imperfect lives, accepting our unique strengths and struggles, acknowledging real differences, and then coming together anyway to continually be who we say we are - a people and community of aloha.





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