Wow! It’s already been a week since we left Midway for our separate homes. Without giving it concentrated thought the things I learned from this trip have permeated my life. I left the island with a profound feeling of a need to stop the destructive forces that assault the animals and habitats of Papahanoumokuakea. I made plans to make videos and write articles and speak out for those who cannot speak for themselves. But in the intervening week, things have slowed down. I’ve taken walks along the beach and in the redwood forests and found myself chanting,
“E ho mai ka ike mai luna mai e…”
I have thought about the friendly competition that Trevor proposed between different schools to find the beauty in their surroundings and tell each other why their place is the best. It has made me slow down and look at the kelp on the beach and smell the dune sage. It has made me smile at the Great Horned Owl swooping under the canopy and the coolness of the redwood sorrel.
I have thought about the commitment of Greg Schubert, who despite overwhelming odds in the battle against the invasive Verbesina he continues to get up everyday and plot his tactical take back of the island for the birds. His ability to see the possibility has been a huge boost for me when I have been looking at entire cities with barely a native plant in sight and despair. For many years I have thought of the city where I teach a lost cause, and looked for beauty in nature elsewhere. I was wrong.“O na mea huna no eau o na mele e…”
I have thought about three Hawaiian words that I learned: malama, kuleana and ahupua’a. I love that there are groups seemingly all over the islands specifically to malama their piece of land. I want to try to institute the same idea here and like Greg, take back a piece at a time. Kuleana is a great word in that, as I understand it, means both responsibility and privilege. It reminds me to find joy in protecting our wild places and creatures. The concept of an ahupua’a is not new to me, only the name. Here, at the southernmost end of Salmon country are tribes or races of salmon each unique to their own watershed. Years ago I thought we should abandon traditional county lines and adopt watershed boundaries as natural lines of division and responsibility. I want to teach my students to see the world in this more natural way.
“E ho mai, e ho mai, e ho mai e
I have thought about my new friend Ron Hirschi and his playful way of engaging others in nature. I want to emulate his passion and child-friendly way of encouraging curiosity and engagement with our surroundings.
All these experiences along with a thousand others have revived me. I see the world differently than I did before this opportunity. I’m sure that what I have learned from all the participants will continue to permeate what I teach, how I teach and what my students will take away. For certain, I do not want to leave them with a feeling of anger or despair (as I exhibited over plastic bottle caps) but with a sense of marvel and love for nature. For that I go back to one of my favorite quotes from Antoine de Saint-Exupery,
“If you want to build a ship, don’t drum up the men to gather wood, divide the work and give orders. Instead, teach them to yearn for the vast and endless sea.”
Thank you to all who made our voyage possible.
Sincerely,
Jeff Manker
photo credit: Jeff Manker
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