I had dinner with several friends last night, and before the meal one couple sang a lovely Maori children’s song. Afterward, the husband translated it, and one line has stayed with me: “Illuminate the lantern in my heart; make me a brilliant star.”
It seems that pretty much sums up our purpose here on Earth.
We got to talking around the table about the prospects for social and political change, and the man who had translated the song recalled as a child looking at a 1913 atlas of the world that had been his father’s. The map of Africa, he said, was entirely comprised of colonies held by every major nation in the world. And over the past century, all that has changed.
Yes, all the so-called civilized nations have given up their colonies — except the U.S. It’s still clinging to Puerto Rico and all its little colonies in the Pacific, most notably Hawaii. I know some folks don’t view it like that, but then we’ve also got Holocaust-deniers and people who believe that we went into Iraq to impose democracy. So go figger.
Anyway, one of the comments left on Monday’s post asked:
Could anyone describe the scenario of a suceeded Hawaiian state.
Leave off the ideals, just describe how this takes place in real time.
What happens socially, politicaly, economically and physically to the one million people of this state?
Do we all return to our ethnic homelands?
Well, Anonymous, this little scenario might make it more understandable:
Two weeks from now, you rise and check the news only to discover that by a process of (choose at least one) mass election fraud, Supreme Court corruption, declaration of martial law, the GOP still controls the Oval office. Worse, Sarah Palin is poised to assume the Presidency. (Be sure to click on all the items in the room for the full effect of the horror.)
You mind lurches from thoughts of suicide to revolution to emigration, when suddenly it hits upon the answer: decolonization! That’s right. You’re in living in Hawaii. You don’t need to leave the U.S., the U.S. can leave Hawaii. Simply pledge allegiance to the Hawaiian nation and pay your taxes to the Hawaiian government, rather than the state and feds. You can petition for citizenship, or get a green card to maintain residency, just as is done in every other modern nation. Nobody has to return to their ethnic homeland; services continue uninterrupted. In short, life goes on, with new folks in charge. And if you don’t want to be part of the Hawaiian nation, well, you’re free to leave.
Think of it like moving to Canada, New Zealand, Fiji, without having to pack.
Yes, I know this is simplistic — intentionally so. But what I’m saying is, we’ve got plenty of decolonization models to follow. It’s not some impossible, unimaginable process.
John McCain apparently finds it unimaginable that he has black relatives. Under the subject line “something I didn’t know,” John Tyler sent a link to something I didn’t know either: McCain’s family owned slaves, and he’s got a black ohana. But he’s blown them off, and they’re voting for Obama.
In local elections, Andy Parx has been trying to get an answer to a question that has puzzled many Kauai voters, including myself: just how did Dickie Chang manage to get Walaau, the title of his TV show, after his name on the ballot?
I’m sure that many candidates would find it useful to have a little clue word printed next to their name to help voters distinguish them in the crowded Council pack. You know, like “librarian,” next to Lani Kawahara, or “Jabba da Hut” next to Ron Kouchi. But wouldn’t that give them an unfair advantage?
In offering an explanation to Andy, Dickie reportedly claimed that, “Everybody knows me as ‘Mr. Wala`au.’” While I find that assertion questionable, even more troubling was the rest of Dickie’s answer:
Chang said “it wasn’t my idea- I wasn’t the one who said how to put my name on the ballot”, although he declined to say who did.
“I just filled out all the papers they told me to” at the elections office, he said.
Now that’s the kind of leadership that will fit right in on the Council. Go Dickie!