In the late winter of 2006 I went to Hawaii for one of my last assisting jobs. After the shoot ended I stayed on in Oahu to surf and hang out for a bit. Eventually, I stumbled upon a personal project to shoot and write about. When I returned home I tried to see if anyone wanted to publish it, but so far it’s stayed right here in my file cabinets. I am now going to publish it right here on this blog… More images from this story can be seen here.
Houseless, not Homeless on the North Shore of Oahu
I ventured along the coast of the North Shore of Oahu in search of finding something interesting to photograph. Up to that point it had been raining for my entire trip, almost non-stop, so when I was sitting at lunch in Haliewa and the sun started to puncture through the clouds I immediately hopped in my rental car. I headed west knowing that it was probably going to be the most desolate stretch of the island in my immediate vicinity. I drove toward the edge of the island passing Skydive Hawaii among other things. Shortly after passing the runway, on the opposite side of the road, the beach side, I noticed a park with a couple dozen chickens running around, and several vehicles that appeared to be there for more than just a daytrip. I drove on.
I drove until the road ended stopping along the way for a few scenic photographs. At the end of the road there was one local sitting in his vehicle and a handful of rental cars belonging to curious tourists. After a brief look around, I got back into the car and headed back.
When I approached the park, the one with the chickens, I pulled in this time and as I passed the first group of parked vehicles I noticed a sign that said “Sovereign Hawaiian Kingdom.” I drove to the second group of vehicles, one of which had a tarp covering it; probably not a day-tripper, I thought to myself. There was a shade structure and picnic table at one of the campsites in the park with several children and a few adults hanging out. The chickens were there too. As I contemplated approaching these strangers to inquire about the sign, my phone rang. It was my girlfriend calling from Ireland and we talked for quite a bit. After the conversation I still couldn’t shake the thought there was probably an interesting story here and I, uncharacteristically, approached the strangers.
As I walked toward them they looked at me inquisitively, and I immediately asked what the sign meant. The lady, probably late 20’s, referred me to her father, an older gentlemen, with a full gray beard, dark sunglasses, and a cap with the Hawaiian Kingdom embroidered on it. His name was John Keawemauhili and he and his wife Marie had been living in that park for 14 years with their family. At this point the family included his two daughters, their husbands, and their many children. I cannot recall how many kids there were, but I believe one family had six, and the other had four, or perhaps more.
John explained that although he had been kicked out of the park many times, and most of belongings had been taken, they would keep returning to stay in that park. As I sat on the grass listening to John, I was keenly aware of a real sense of peace. They were the only family in this park. John explained that they were houseless, but not homeless. He said they are Hawaiian, and Hawaii is their home, but that unfortunately there is no housing that they can afford; especially given the fact that John lives on disability income. I got the idea that the Sovereign Hawaiian Kingdom is a multifaceted movement, and partially has to do with returning, or, at least, allowing Hawaiians rights to United States Government land that formerly was Hawaiian owned.
John went on to explain to me that on the west side of Oahu, there are many more houseless Hawaiians; he called them beach people. His daughter referred to the situation on the west side as Oahu’s version of the projects. Perhaps that is one reason the Keawemauhilis chose to stay in this particular park away from the dangers and drug-ridden parks of the west side. I have never been to the west side, but my Haole friends advised me to exercise caution if traveling that way, John’s family reiterated the same concern. As for the Keawemauhilis, over the years they have been in and of out of several housing situations, but for one reason or another things did not work out. For John, this park is the answer, at least for now. The police ticket John and his family every week, and they go to court, and there have been quite a few legal battles in the last few years, but he seems content to stay in the park. They have an attorney, or attorneys working with them. At this point, he’s searching for the original owner of the land that the park is located on and he hopes to prove the land doesn’t actually belong to the city or county.
I spent several hours with John and his family. They were gracious hosts and were genuinely pleased that I had stopped to ask about the sign and to find out about them. His daughter explained that most people drive right past and seem to regard them with a great deal of fear. I only felt compassion for and from the Keawemauhilis. I photographed them for several hours. They invited me to stay for dinner; it was a wonderful meal. After the meal, John’s son-in-law escorted me out of the park. As I departed, he urged me to stop by the next time I’m in Oahu. I hope that the Keawemauhilis are still there when I return.
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