paige9

    It was coming. No one knew of course. Except for the weatherman, or whoever tracks these things down. It strengthened throughout the night, from a "warning" to a "watch." But it's not like we would just sit back and relax as if you're "watching" television. No, it was far rom relaxing. It was far more than just a "watch." It was "a sharp, piercing wind." In Hawaiian, it was named Iniki.

     Hurricane Iniki steered its way across the Pacific, plotting out its path of destruction. I, on the other hand, was at home reciting my lines for a drama club audition for school; the most important thing in the world to me at that time. It was reported on the news that we were on a hurricane watch on the eleventh day of September 1992. I thought of it as a joke. My mohter and I prepared our house for the worst, but I thought to myself, "What harm could a little wind do?" Now that I think about it, I was very naive and ignorant about the world and about life. But all was about to change. The turning point of my life had started with the wind.

     Needless to say, the joke was on me. At approximately 9:30am, the 130 to 200 miles per hour winds of the hurricane moved its way north to Kaua'i. Huddled in the hallway of our Kapa'a home, my mother and I prayed for the protection of God, while my cat clung onto me and stared up at the ceiling. And then, it hit.

     At 2:30pm chaos and destruction was pounding at our front door like an uninvited guest. The deafening sound of the wind ripping through everything in its path swirled around us. Looking through a nearby window, the lychee tree that I've climbed on, took photographs next to, and loved for twelve years uprooted. That was the reality that I needed to tell me how powerful and real this hurricane was.

     Outside the living room I could see The Sleeping Giant (Nounou Mountain). Its profile unclear due to tree branches, pieces of houses, and whatnot flying by. I thought of the Hawaiian legend. I knew it by heart. The menehunes had once thrown rocks into the bully's mouth while it slept peacefully after destroying their village. Throughout the storm I wondered if the giant would rise from his bed of soil and awake to the disorder. But it slept with tranquility. Not like the bully that was destroying our village. I knew that rocks would not cease it.

     Iniki did anything but cease. The last hour had been a piece of hell but it was far from over. Windows shattered and exploded around us. We ran into the bathroom and pressed our backs against the door. And then, the unthinkable happened. The house slowly moved off its foundation and tipped to one side with a groan of creaking wooded boards and bending metal pipes. I screamed in horror. My worst nightmare had finally come true.

     After another hour or two of terror, my mother and I heard voices outside. Our neighbor next door called for us to come to the house across the driveway where they had a basement. My mother, my cat, and I made our way across the mangled back steps and up the driveway scattered with branches, debris, and a few live wires.

     When we arrived at the basement, I saw five other families were there. The scent of candles and kerosene stung my nostrils. The best thing all of use could do was get some rest. Extra pillows and blankets were given to us and we fell asleep on the floor. It was a physically and emotionally tiring day. A day that would haunt me for the rest of my life. I fell asleep to the sound of the howling wind.

     The next morning, I arose to the smell of coffee. The adults had gotten up early and huddled around the dining room table with coffee mugs. At 6:00 am, just as the sun started to rise, we crept quietly outside to see what the storm had done.

     There was an eerie silence. Daybreak was calm having no breeze at all. There was an orange tint to the morning sky. Water mains were broken resulting with no water for many. Neighbors went back into their houses to save what was left of the damage.

     Meanwhile, my mothe rand I went back to the house we lived in for as long as I can remember. The house where i grew up and shared my most precious memories with was a mess. Not like a mess that a two-year old could make. It was a mess of shattered glass, splintered wood, and everything was water-logged. It seemed too impossible to clean. Our living room curtains were torn out of the windows and onto the driveway. Our car was damaged from flying debris. Our whole house was tilted off its foundation like an exhausted boxer who had lost a match. I knew I would never be able to live there ever again.

     During the next two weeks, our family and relatives camped out in tents in backyards of friends and family. I remmeber the sound of generators and the smell of lighter fluid. Because of the lack of electricity and water, the Armed Services were sent to help. C-rations and bags of ice were distributed throughout the day. Hundreds of people stood in unbelievably long lines to get them. Friends and neighbors alike helped each other with camping equipment and coolers. It's a wonder how a natural disaster can bring a sense of harmony to a little island.

     On September 22, 1992, my mother and I decided it was time to leave, not just leaving our house, but leave the whole island and family and friends behind. We were to move to Oahu with my uncle and his family in Honolulu. Picking up what we could save from our broken house, I found myself saying, "I hate this house!" I felt so much anger and resentment to the whole idea of staying in Kaua'i. I don't exactly know what came over me. All i know is that something in me changed. And a drastic change from the country to the city would be hard.

     Actually, it was more than hard. I think I was in a state of depression for about a year. I missed my family the most. I cried myself to sleep every night. School in the city was very hard for a pre-teen, "country-jack." My grades fell, I hardly went to school, and I had arguments every day with my cousins whom I was living with.

     Finally, we moved into our own apartment. I started coping with the change and the absence of my family and old friends. It ws time for me to live a new life. It was very hard to go on with my life knowing that my family was a hundred miles away. Each Christmas and birthday mom and I would take a trip to Kaua'i. Each plane ride there I felt that I've escaped. I was in conflict wtih myself and torn between two worlds.

     On the way home from Kaua'i, I would cry each time. Staring out the window with the view of the islands slowly getting farther and farther away hurt me. I felt like a part of my heart was missing. Even now, when family and relatives come up to Oahu to visit, nothing hurts me more than dropping them off at the airport. A song, a scent, even a simple thing as an airplane triggers my memory of Kaua'i.

     Memories are all I have of the lifestyle I once lived. The hurricane symbolizes a transition in my life. A change for the better or worst, I can't say. But by experienceing this natural disaster, I've come to realize how fragile life is.

     Our world is filled with so much material things that we forget about what's really important: life. Living to make every second of the day count. Everything became clear, focused, and real. Life wasn't about how much money you can make or how high you get on the status pole. To live is what life is all about. To run through every obstacle of life, regardless of how painful it is. To cry thorugh every casualty and emotional hardship. To laugh thorugh every hilarious absurdity...

     To stand against the changing of the wind.