| Nui'an | Mercanti |
|---|---|
| "Kohu ʻahuʻao no ka uka. He kamalani kamaehu kau i ka hano ē. He kamalei, kamahiwa pā i ka lani ē." | "A finely woven cloak for the highlands. A cherished one, respected for power and strength. Esteemed, treasured, touched by heaven." |
White sands. Blue skies. And a gentle breeze that lightly touches the lines of palm trees and willow trees. It stretches for miles down the coastline. This peace. This tranquility. This truth that is ours alone to behold.
This is my home. This is my faith, my life, and my future. This is my burden, my privilege, and my birthright.
This is Nui'a.
"M'lady," says a voice, interrupting the silence of the morning, "Your guest has arrived."
"Tell him to entreat himself to the tea and fresh poke set out on the back porch," I say in response, my voice slightly dragging out. I stretch out my arms and legs however I possibly can from this cradle that is this hammock. Situated under a pair of palm trees, a group of beach mangroves, and some assorted other greenery, the local beehive will sometimes send a messenger to deliver its morning greetings to me. Curious little things they are, the bees.
The aina are like that. Curious. Naive maybe. But always curious. And I love them for it.
Haphazardly, I manage to not really get out of, but fall out of my hammock.
"Not really the most royal thing I've done," I say to no one in particular.
Nevertheless, I persist. Getting up off the ground, I dust myself off before wrapping my lower body with a towel. A hand reaches out and bestows to me a simple flower. Wrapping my long hair into a bun offset to one side, I place the flower onto the bun, so that it protrudes outward in all its glory.
"How do I look?" I say.
"You could look better, respectfully, Your Majesty," answers back the voice from earlier, "but I think you look good enough for the occasion."
"Do I look like just another Nui'an girl?" I question further.
"Respectfully M'lady, but to say as such of yourself, you invite self-harm," the voice says in reply.
You will never be just some other Nui'an girl, go the words left unspoken.
"Please bring me to my back porch," I declare unto my servant.
"Yes, M'lady," he says almost reverently, "let me lead the way."
The morning is warm. The warm, inviting sunshine kisses my skin. And the birds are singing a lively tune. The house we were approaching was in and of itself relatively unremarkable. It was once a sterling white colonial with all the fixings related. But overtime, as the ocean and mother nature do, the house became worn down and fell into disrepair. It's once perfectly square windows began to sag and rot away with the paint. The water pipes corroded as the salt water seeped into the ground, causing them to rust. A fine layer of dust had settled by the time my grandmother came upon this place. She had planned to let the place demolish itself on its own accord but once I came here, I begged her to let me have it.
She gifted me this place on my eighteenth birthday as a present for graduating high school.
"Now it is your turn to make yourself a home," she said to me.
I wonder what she would say about what I'm about to do, I think to myself.
No one knew about what I was about to do. Only those personally in-charge of ensuring my safety were told anything. Not that what I was about to endeavor was against the law or anything… but it's almost like that.
Approaching the back porch of the house, I spied my guest waiting for me at a simple table paired with simple chairs positioned against the wall of the house. On the table was a tray with two medium-sized bowls. And if one looked closely, one could just make out a white teapot hidden against the faded white paint.
As my butler and I draw nearer, he quickly finishes taking a bite out of his food and stands as I begin to climb the few steps up to the porch.
"I hope the food is good," I say to him as I finally reach my chair.
"It really is," my guest replies, "did you make this?"
I shake my head slowly while making myself a plate of freshly made poke and hot white rice.
"The man who cooks for me here goes fishing just about every day," I tell him. "And if he fails to catch something and he knows he's cooking for me, he'll go to the local fish market that you passed on your way here."
"Funny enough," I added, "that fish market didn't exist until I began to live here on the weekends."
My guest chuckles at the remark, before replying, "I can see why."
"Before we formally get started, I'd just like to say that it is an absolute honor and privilege to meet you in person, Crown Princess Nui'a."
He takes a moment to turn on his voice recorder that he was allowed to bring. He also takes another bite out of his bowl of rice and poke.
"Yoʻkaiʻahio Nui'a na waʻina aiʻkoʻihaʻwei," greets my guest as he bows. "Good morning beloved Queen of Nui'a."
"It is both a pleasure and an honor to meet you in person as well, Senior Journalist Lunalei'o Kalakawa," I reply in return.
"Yo'kai'ahio yo'kai'wei. Omua ni monaka ataiʻwa. The morning is very good; give praise to God."
"So, to be clear, your condition for giving me this interview, is that the transcript stays relatively unedited, but that you will not be allowed to see it before we publish it? Is that correct?" Kalakawa says with a hint of hesitation as he retakes his seat
"Yes," I say while taking a bite out of my own bowl, "that is correct."
"Alright then, now that we've got our greetings out of the way and you have told me plainly what the conditions are, why am I here?" Says Kalakawa while helping himself to the tea.
"Well…" I begin in return…
~~~
Last edited: