The one about the shrimp farmer, the ex-con and the guy with no gun
Monday. There's four of us on the upper deck of the Moloka'i Princess, crossing the channel from Lahaina to Kaunakakai.
First I meet 'Kana with his pierced eyebrow and his small worn Spiderman backpack. "So you from Amsterdam. Well I'm from jail. Just come out today. Going home now." "What were you in for?" "Parole violation. Got me six months. Second time goes for ten. But judge he gave me nine 'cause of my behavior." "So what was the offence to begin with?" "Like I sais, parole violation... Want a smoke?"
And there's the guy with the striking resemblance to Lost's Hurley character who pulls out the Budweisers and Coronas to pass around. "The ocean is unpredictable here. Some days my boat cuts through in fifteen minutes, kinda surfing the waves sideways like on y'r board. Other days it takes me four hours to get home."
And then there's Sasha sporting her surfer dresscode of tan plus shoulderlength sunbleached hair. "I study anthropology but my hobby is aquatic cultures. On my way to work now as a shrimp farmer on the island for Big Jim. You'll meet him, everybody knows Big Jim."
As stories of deer and pig hunting are exchanged, everyone but me appears to have at least one rifle lying around the house. "The license system here goes like this: after you've took two weeks of night classes you good to go, can shoot what you want, whenever you want, wherever you want." "Yeah, I shoot dear from my window if I gets hungry".
Word of warning through this friendly gathering of local intelligence: do not ever honk your horn on a road in Moloka'i if you want to stay in good health. "The motto 'friendly island' still goes though if you don't piss nobody off, walk on their land without asking or fish in their waters and such." I get a truck ride to the hotel and talks continue at the bar till late...
