I confess to being mildly surprised that places like these—set aside for people of Hawaiian descent—have actually survived. Survived rampant development and the exigencies of modern capitalism in the US of A, that is.

A beautiful area such as Waimanalo on Oahu would seem to me prime real estate for resort hotels, golf courses, and the like. That this homestead for Hawaiian folk has avoided being wiped off the map and replaced with something more amenable to the tourist industry is, to my mind, a minor miracle.

Of course, over the years, the area has been made less palatable to developers by the presence of a landfill nearby, with all the toxic hazards that reality implies. Perhaps that’s one thing that has kept the developer vultures away. Such a double-edged sword is emblematic of the way many native Hawaiians have been been compelled to live, in the 21st century.

While aspects of its culture may be in renaissance, and in fact are thriving, certain tradeoffs have to be endured. And it still remains damnably hard for working class or working poor Hawaiians (of which there are legion in the state, relatively speaking) to raise themselves from the lowest rung of the socio-economic ladder in modern-day Hawaii.

The beauty of the land—where it has not been paved over by relentless modernity—is inescapable. It is by no means permanent, or untouchable. But for those who are in it, like Aunty Mattie’s ancestral family, the little they have they maintain and sustain to the best of their ability.

And for now, that is enough.