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Oahu - 3

In Waipio, we lived in a house that had a menehune trail in the backyard. At night, you can hear them walking or running through the backyard on the trail. One night when I heard them, I was scared, but took a little peek out the window (my room was located at the back of the house), and I was only able to see small shadows of little people running by. Sometimes they walk, but usually they run. Our dog in back must be used to seeing them because he'd just lie sit up and look, then lie back down. (By Dan)

A House in Waipio

"What Happened to the Fish?"

My grandfather and I went fishing one evening somewhere on the east shore of Oahu. It was a fairly cool night with only a slight breeze. I remember that there was no moon visible, and the night was unusually dark. My grandfather was the only one fishing, and I was just enjoying the experience. It was about 10 p.m. when he caught 2 nice sized Papio's, and he put them in a homemade fishbox. *The fishbox was made out of wood and screen, with a rope tether, a hinged top with a locking hasp. The fishbox was placed in the water so that the fish could live and stay fresh until we finished fishing. About 11 p.m. my grandfather caught a really big O'io, and it was an epic fight to the finish. After my grandfather reeled it in to shore, he put it in the fishbox. About an hour or so later, my grandfather and I were sitting by his 3 fishing poles (that were sitting in sand spikes) when all of a sudden we felt really cold. Mind you, all night there was only a slight breeze and it was just comfortably cool. This cold that settled on us was so cold that it went right through our bodies, and we shivered uncontrollably. I saw that my grandfather was visibly shaken, as I was. I really got the feeling that we were doing something wrong and should not even be there. My grandfather immediately reeled in his poles, gathered everything, and told me to go back to the jeep. We loaded everything on the jeep and headed back to Waimanalo (where we lived). I was sitting at the kitchen table when my grandfather came in and put the fishbox in the kitchen sink. He then unlocked it and dumped the fish into the sink. My grandfather stood there for a while staring at the sink. Then he exclaimed, "What happened to the fish!?" At this point I got up and looked into the kitchen sink. There were only the 2 Papio's lying in the sink. The big O'io was gone! (By GeeBee)

I live in Whitmore Village with my wife and kids. One of our vehicles is a family van and we only have one key, which my wife hangs on to. Last time I used the van was Friday, just me, nobody else. As usual, when I got home, I parked it inside the garage and locked the van, where it stayed locked and unused all weekend, Because I use my truck a lot, I conveniently park my truck behind the van. Anyway, my wife works during the late nights and Sunday night around 3:00 a.m. the van radio suddenly started blasting! I went outside to see and nobody was around, and the van was still locked and secure, so I unlocked the van and turned the radio off. Sure, maybe there was some faulty wiring but I am certain that I turned the van radio off. What's even more strange was that it was playing on a radio station that I haven't listened to, the Hawaiian radio FM100! (By TC)

Whitmore Village

(Follow up to the story... Today, "three days" since our van's radio suddenly went on, I got into a fender-bender on the job. I heard about how some things seem to happen "in three's" and I'm wondering if that van radio incident was a warning?) (By TC)

This is a true telling. Four girls cut school one day and drove out to Kaena Point. I was one of those girls, and driving the truck. We periodically cut school to cruise around - I don't remember why we went this particular day, but we were young and joy-riding in my dad's pick up - so nothing could bother us. The truck was a small little Toyota. Nothing fancy about it, not jacked up with super suspension or anything like that - just a stock little "toy" with stick-shift (manual transmission). This is important, and you will learn why. So we are cruising around the North Shore (Haleiwa to Mokuleia) when we decide to go to Waianae side. I argued that it was a super long drive to go, but someone mentioned the road around Kaena Point. Back in the mid-1980's, the road around Kaena Pt. was still kinda there - mostly used by 4-wheeler ATVs and dirt bikes. No one took their "every day drives" around the point, too dangerous. But after a bit of thinking, I figured we could make it - and the others got excited at this great adventure. So up and down, in and out of the big pukas (holes). This is a true telling. Four girls cut school one day and drove out to Kaena Point. I was one of those girls, and driving the truck. We periodically cut school to cruise around - I don't remember why we went this particular day, but we were young and joy-riding in my dad's pick up - so nothing could bother us. The truck was a small little Toyota. Nothing fancy about it, not jacked up with super suspension or anything like that - just a stock little "toy" with stick-shift (manual transmission). This is important, and you will learn why. So we are cruising around the North Shore (Haleiwa to Mokuleia) when we decide to go to Waianae side. I argued that it was a super long drive to go, but someone mentioned the road around Kaena Point. Back in the mid-1980's, the road around Kaena Pt. was still kinda there - mostly used by 4-wheeler ATVs and dirt bikes. No one took their "every day drives" around the point, too dangerous. But after a bit of thinking, I figured we could make it - and the others got excited at this great adventure. So up and down, in and out of the big pukas (holes created by falling boulders) we drove. Myself, my step-sister (fake name Tina), and two classmates (fake names Jill & Jill - yeah, they have the same name - kinda cute!). We got to the lighthouse without much problem from the North Shore side, and sat for a little bit, watching the albatross. After the break, everyone jumped into the back of the truck, and I drove. The road kept getting thinner and thinner, and soon I was driving at a tilt, then I had to stop as the transmission bell of the truck got stuck on a rock. The girls in the back were scared. Tina was crying - she was upset that Dad would kill us. I told the two Jill's and Tina to get out of the truck, and wait on the side (kinda up the mountain) and I sat in the truck, steel-fisted on the steering wheel - scared out of my wits. I distinctly remember the truck was really stuck - and couldn't move. I stared ahead, looking toward Waianae, and started crying. This was before everyone had cell phones - we were stuck and no way to get a hold of anyone. About half way between the point and Kaena Beach - stuck with no help. Dad will kill us... kill me... and I'd be grounded forever and ever without any relief or social life. (I was 16, social life was important then.) As I was staring out toward the Leeward side and thinking of how badly Dad would beat me if I got out of this, I saw an owl - a really BIG white owl. Dunno where it came from - it was just THERE. It was standing on the branch of a dead looking tree about 50 feet in front and to the left of me - staring at me with great big brown eyes. I knew about aumakua from Hawaiian studies in school - but you know what, I'm haole. My step-sister is Filipino/Chinese. Jill is Puerto Rican and the other Jill is chop-suey local mix -- none of us have any Hawaiian in us. But here is this owl.. staring at me like it wanted to say something - scold me even. I remember being amazed that the dead tree could even hold it - the owl was so big! I stared back - and suddenly felt a calmness and a connection with the bird. I took a deep breath, let it out slowly and knew - just KNEW.... I spoke, I knew what I was saying, I was asking the pueo to guide me... which way? Go back or go forward? I remember in my mind I was thinking, "If you fly toward Waianae, I will go that way. If you fly back toward Waialua, I will follow." The owl jumped from the branch, circled over the truck, then flew straight for Waianae. I then cinched the seat belt (for if the truck was going down the cliff to the ocean - so was I) and popped the clutch as I slammed on the gas. The truck seemed to jerk, then roar and jump off the rock. I shoved the gearstick into second, and gunned the engine again, and felt the truck slide, jump again, shimmy... then I was huffing and puffing as I slammed the brakes and the truck was on level, WIDE dirt road again. The girls came running up to the truck. Tina's face was white as a sheet.. Jill #1 was also pale and Jill #2 had shi-shi'd her pants. All three told me the truck had jumped, slipped off the cliff - and they thought I was a goner when it suddenly seemed to "fly up the mountain and back onto the road." (Their words - not mine.) I asked them if they saw the owl - I was looking for the owl. All three said they didn't see an owl... just me sitting in the truck, chanting. "Huh?" I said. "You were chanting! I didn't know you knew Hawaiian!" Tina had said. The two Jill's both nodded their heads. They said I had been chanting in Hawaiian then all of a sudden put the truck in gear and they thought I was going to die. All three figured I had snapped and gone crazy. We got back into the truck and drove toward Waianae. On the way out of the point, a big truck full of "Waianae titas" were stopped on the side, and watched us as we drove to the area they were at (right at the end of the paved road... or beginning of it). It is there I stopped again to inspect any damage to Dad's pick-up... and Jill who pee'd her pants went toward the ocean (rocks) to wash herself in a tide pool. Tina & Jill stayed in the truck. One of the titas jumped out of her truck and came toward me.... "Eh, haole girl. Where you come from?" she asked. I looked up from under the truck (the 'tranny' bell was really damaged) and responded that we came from Waialua-side. "Not! How can? Da road stay all bus' up!" the tita said. Then another of the titas came over, carrying a beer. "But you know, we neva seen dis truck go in sistah.. dey had to come from da odda side." Then the rest of the other titas came over and they all started looking over the truck - which was definitely damaged from the experience - but still drivable. Then one of the girls came over to me, sniffed, and handed me a beer. "Look like you need dis sistah." I nodded and chugged it down. The first tita then waved at me and as they all got back into their truck, I heard her say, "So that's why the pueo was out here." I dunno why an aumakua came to help me. All I knew was if I didn't get the truck off that rock, I was a goner no matter how it turned out. Dad didn't find out about the incident for 20 years... and yeah, I got lickin's. Thirty-six years old and I got the worst tongue-lickin of my life. Oh, and I had to help pay off Dad's new truck. Since that day, I pay close attention to the birds - especially the owls. I doubt I'll ever see the Great Pueo again, but whatever spirit came and helped us... has my eternal thanks and awe. (By Lessie, from the Haunted Hawaii Forum)

The Pueo & Four Girls

My cousin (Carl) told me this incident that happened to him (42 years ago) with some of his friends as witnesses. One summer day, my cousin and some his friends hiked deep into the pineapple fields (behind Whitmore village) to go to the reservoir. There they would go mud sliding and swimming. On the way to the reservoir, he and his friends came upon a log that was laying at the top of a hill. The log was fully covered in a bright green moss. My cousin stated that he was going to kick the log, and make it rolled down the hill. One of his friends said that he did not think that was not a good idea. My cousin went ahead and kicked the log, and it rolled all the way down the hill. My cousin and his friends continued to towards the reservoir. There they spent a couple of hours mud sliding and swimming. On their hike back home to Whitmore village, they came to the hill where my cousin had kicked the log down the hill. The log was back in the same position at the top of the hill. Needless to say, my cousin and his friends were freaked out and all of them ran all the way back home. The day after, my cousin became ill for about 2 weeks. He was really sick. He told me that whenever he and his friends went back into the pineapple fields, they learned not to disturb any logs or rocks that were covered in bright green moss. (By GeeBee)

Wahiawa Pineapple Field

The second time we visited family on O'ahu was for my papa's funeral when I was about 8 or 9. My father had taken me and my cousin to the Nu'uanu Pali Lookout. It was the first time I'd seen this extraordinary place, and the first time I had experienced powerful winds like those up there. As you stand looking towards the coast, there's a beautiful mountain top toward the left that not only feels daunting, but peaceful at the same time. That day, the tip of that mountain had eerie clouds covering it, and it triggered something within me. I remember feeling peaceful, but also as if there was a strong, physical presence that I could not see. It felt all around me. I even asked my cousin Keona if she could feel the "spirits" around us (that's the only way I could explain it to her). She kept saying, "I want to feel the spirits...." When we all returned to my grandparent's place, I had told my family, aunties and uncles too, about my experience, and it was there in that condo that they told me the story about King Kamehameha, the battle that took place on that Pali, and how he magnificently drove the opposed down the cliff. That alone had confirmed the feelings I was experiencing at the Nu'uanu Pali Lookout. (By Kari)

Spiritual Presence at Nu'uanu Pali Lookout

Wahiawa Pineapple Field

"Listen"

The light turned green and I made the left turn into the red dirt parking area. There was just enough space for me to turn around and face the highway so that the others following me had room to park as well. We got out and I cautioned my passengers to be careful of the mud. They were three older people, one man and two women, of Japanese decent. They were excited and chattering to each other and to us through the entire tour. It was entertaining; witnessing their enthusiasm made this worthwhile. I didn’t mind being the designated driver on our convoy tour. While we went to some of the same places, each excursion was its own and there was always something new to experience. Our host came around the front of the truck and walked toward the gate. He waited until everyone gathered around him ensuring they were all there before smiling and voicing a soft command, “Follow me.” There was no moon to guide us that night. Tailing the group to make sure nobody fell too far behind, I watched the flashlight beams bobbing up and down and waving to and fro as if they were trying to cut through the darkness. The sounds of the highway fell behind as quickly as the reach of the streetlamps. I could hear our guests whispering to each other as if the sacredness of the place demanded quiet. I listened to their footsteps and could hear the insects buzzing in the fields alongside us. We were leaving the present behind, on our way to visit the birthing place of the ancestors of those who ruled over the very land we walked on. Almost anyone who’s visited there would agree it’s a magical place. Kukaniloko. The place where ali’i were born. A place that holds its power still. As we approached the stones that marked the entrance, a hush fell over our guests. No one told them to be quiet. They just knew. We all knew. Our guide waited until there was no movement. The group waited in silent anticipation. Then he began. While he explained a bit about the stones standing in front of us and offered his oli to the guardians of the sacred place, I watched him and smiled. My heart beat a little faster and my love for him seemed to overflow. I listened to his stories and watched the crowd become mesmerized by his words. He was in his element. This is what he did best. We followed him to the sacred stones and he described their use and told stories passed down through the ages. The people took pictures of the stones, the site, each other. I was very pleased. They were definitely having fun, including my three passengers. Then our host told everyone to walk amongst the small eucalyptus grove. He explained how spirits inhabited the trees and encouraged them to take more pictures. Each of them hurried through the darkness, their flashlights the only way for us to know where they were. The trees themselves were interesting, the bark slowly peeling back showing the white wood beneath. I approached one and looked closely at the white wood that was hidden beneath the layer of brown. It looked so smooth and I had the urge to touch it, to feel its smoothness. The moment my hand touched the pale wood, something happened. Such a feeling I’ve never had before but it was overwhelming. After a few seconds, I pulled my hand back and began to cry. I was grateful for the darkness, thankful that no one could see me. My pain was tangible and I felt like my world was going to turn upside down. I walked towards the back of the grove hoping no one would follow me and I fell to my knees and cried for several minutes being careful not to make any noise. The last thing I wanted was for someone to hear me and ask me questions. It felt like I was there forever. I knew better than to argue so I silently begged and I hoped and I bargained. I just didn’t want to listen. As that segment of the tour came to an end, I quickly composed myself and followed the group back to our vehicles. There were a few more stops before we were through but all I wanted to do was run away and hide somewhere. I wiped my face and put on the most. We went to a few more sites, listened to several more tales, and they took many more pictures. By the end of the tour, our guide had clearly raised the interest of each person in the group. They were like children, full of renewed enthusiasm. Even the doubters admitted that they enjoyed every aspect of this experience. It was time to depart and bring our guests back to the original meeting place. As I chauffeured my passengers back into town with our guide, my love sitting next to me, I only vaguely listened to their recall of the night’s events. They shared the pictures they took on their digital cameras and talked of following our guide on some of his other experiences. After a while, he seemed to notice that I hadn’t said anything and asked if I was okay. I couldn’t speak and just nodded my head. “What’s wrong?” he asked and I only shrugged in reply. “Did something happen?” The words were frozen in my throat and I could only nod slightly. Tears threatened to spill over my lashes and I tried to blink them back. Suddenly, our three guests became very quiet. I knew they were waiting to hear but I couldn’t tell them. There was no way I would. We finally made it to our destination and my passengers disembarked. There were thank yous and well wishes and then they all went on their way. Finally alone, he turned to me as I pulled out of the parking space. He couldn’t wait any longer. “What happened?” he asked. I hadn’t even begun to speak before the tears started streaming down my face. The memory of the grove was painful and my heart ached. I couldn’t say anything at first and he reached over and held my hand. He didn’t push, he just waited. A few minutes later he asked again, softer this time, “Tell me what happened.” I told him how I followed the group into the grove and that one of the trees caught my attention. “The bark was so white and looked so smooth that I had to feel it. I walked closer and reached my hand out. The second my fingers touched the wood, I felt this… this power. Then it was like a hundred voices talking to me all at the same time. They were all saying the same thing. They all kept repeating. The same thing. Over and over. All I could do was cry.” “What did they say?” he asked. I cried as my heart broke hearing the words out loud, “They told me I had to let you go.” “Let him go,” they said, “he’s not the one for you.” This was the end of last summer. I suffered for many months after that, always feeling like I wasn’t good enough or it was something I was doing wrong. I cried myself to sleep more often than not. While my love for him filled my heart, the sadness of knowing he didn’t love me back filled my soul. Weeks. Months. Quite nearly a year. I should have listened. (Submitted by Tanya)

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