Freedom in a Can: Adventures with Hamlet

We stand in a large circle in the back yard of the farm holding hands, a collection of friends, family neighbors, strangers, volunteers…and the coerced.   It is in every way an idyllic setting, the nearby Anahola mountains frame the afternoon sun, the lush green ground cover surrounded by strategically appointed tropical flowering plants, hibiscus flowers, plumeria, ti plants, and palm trees house the song birds which love them.   Here, in their home, the owners of the farm celebrate their vows of commitment among their Kaua’i family, their ohana .   Not quite a wedding, they call it “Our Lovefest”.   What follows is not exactly a celebration of love, it is closer to a love bomb.   Ever wonder what it feels like when one of these goes off?   This is not the same as what you felt when you laid eyes on your first love.   Instead, consider it the emotional equivalent of trying to drink from a fully pressurized fire hose shoved into your face.   With all that love coming at you, it

Our 3 months on Kaua’i were an exercise in participant observation, yet we still try to come to grips with this place and its people knowing that description will, at best, fall short and, at worst, generalize in the broadest strokes.   We stayed long enough to grow familiar, to make friends, to become a regular at the Farmer’s Market, to know the best happy hour specials, but not long enough to begin to take life here at face value.   Though, how locals remain peaceful when confronted by the price of olive oil and coffee I may never understand.    Among our small band of farm volunteers we've created a little ex-pat mainland community.  We are not “from here” nor have we yet fully shed our mainland ethic, nor embraced / been embraced by the island.   Despite residency status, property ownership and more surfboards than teeth, many locals will never be “from here,” they will never be a “Kaua’ian” unless they can somehow change the conditions of their birth.   They move