This Christmas I have a very special treat for you! I have written a whimsical Hawaiian short story for all ages to enjoy. I hope you will enjoy it and read it to your keiki.
Mele Kalikimaka and Hau'oli Makahiki Hou,
Marionette
The Banana Princess
by Marionette Taboniar
Copyright © 2021
Marionette Taboniar.
All
rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or
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author is illegal and punishable by law.
There once was an
adorable boy who was born on Kaua’i right next to the Swinging Bridge of the
Hanapepe River. He had a large family
and was the youngest boy of nine keiki.
He had three older brothers, four older sisters and one younger
sister. His mother and tutu raised them
all on his uncle’s farm. They didn’t
have much, but through hard work, they survived. His mother worked long hours at the pineapple
cannery and took on odd jobs washing clothes for friends and neighbors. After his older brothers married and moved
on, little JoJo assumed their responsibilities and had to work hard on the farm
every day after school so that his tutu, mother, and sisters would have enough kau
kau to eat. He milked the cows, fed
the pigs, and cleaned the pig pen. Then
he would throw scratch feed for the chickens and ducks and tend the vegetable
garden. It was also his chore to help
his uncle mend the pasture fences and collect pig slop from the nearby
homes.
He was a very hard-working
boy, but he was also prone to getting himself into mischief from time to
time. They lived on the edge of the
pineapple plantation, and he would sometimes pluck a ripe pineapple or two to
bring home. The pineapples were so sweet
it was like candy to them. On occasion he
would sneak out of his bedroom window at night with his pillowcase and load it
up with lychee from a neighbor’s tree. He couldn’t resist the sweet fruit and would
eat so much he often ended up with a sore stomach. Although he would be scolded for these
naughty deeds, his mother couldn’t be angry for too long. She knew little JoJo just wanted to make life
easier by bringing home the fruits of the island to feed his family.
The one fruit he
cherished above all others was the banana.
Whenever he saw a nice bunch it was his instinct to cut them down and haul
them home. After the neighbors complained
about their “missing” bananas a few times, JoJo’s mother explained to him
that it wasn’t pono to take other people’s bananas. And she added that he wasn’t allowed to do so
ever again. JoJo nodded, said he was
sorry, and vowed never to cut down another bunch of bananas unless it came from
their own patch.
On a warm Christmas Eve JoJo woke up to the familiar
crows of the roosters and was greeted by a shimmering sunrise with rosy clouds
and bright blue skies. He pulled on his play
pants made from old rice bags and scampered out to his banana patch excited to
cut down the bunch of green bananas so his mother could make banana masa for
their Christmas pasteles – a delicacy rich in spices that has been compared to tamales. JoJo’s tutu brought their family recipe with
her to the islands when she traveled from Puerto Rico to work the sugar cane fields.
As JoJo reached
for his cane knife, he stared in disbelief.
The banana tree had fallen down from the recent strong trade winds, and
the chickens had eaten every speck of banana – only the skins were left
behind. He sat down on the banana tree
stump and almost cried. He couldn’t return
to the house empty handed and he couldn’t raid his neighbor’s banana patch
either. He was so looking forward to his
Christmas pasteles – his favorite food in the whole world. He put his head down to ponder his situation. The sound of two myna birds squawking jolted him
out of his trance and from behind the banana patch appeared a radiant wahine
wearing an ancient pareo and a haku lei of bright red ohia lehua flowers
entwined with mokihana berries and maile from the forests of
Kokee. She smelled of jasmine and
gardenias and greeted him with a bright and loving smile like a Hawaiian
princess.
She lifted her
hands to the sky and started swaying side to side as she sang a Hawaiian mele. Her voice was enchanting and little JoJo felt
chicken skin all over his body. When she
was all pau, a large pueo magically appeared from the sky. With a flick of her hand, she shrunk both
herself and JoJo to a fraction of their size so that they could mount the
majestic pueo and fly high in the clear blue sky. Because they were poor, he’d never been on a
helicopter ride, so he’d never seen Kaua’i from that high before. It was thrilling to see his house get smaller
as they climbed. The pueo veered
off to the south where they flew by the waterfall he swam at with his
friends. Next, they cruised over the
ocean, and he waved to his classmates surfing below – but of course they couldn’t
see him.
He asked the wahine
where they were going, and she just flashed him a warm and soothing smile. Soon they arrived at a lush garden filled
with every flower, plant, and fruit found on the island. They landed right in front of a huge banana
patch. The lovely wahine started
to dance and chant once again, and a perfect bunch of bananas fell to the
ground. A loud grunt was heard as a
large boar with tusks that made JoJo jump back, popped out from between the
trees. Next, they heard some giggling as
a group of menehune sprang to work securing the bananas on the back of
the pig with some rope.
The young lady
and JoJo got back on the pueo, flashed a shaka to the menehune
for their help and flew just high enough to lead the pig back to JoJo’s
farm. With another flick of her hula
hand she transformed them to their regular size and JoJo waved to the magical pueo
as he flew away. Hearing his mother
calling him, he turned his head towards her.
“JoJo where you stay?” she yelled.
“I stay here in
the banana patch,” he replied. He turned
to say mahalo to the beautiful girl, but there was no trace of her other than
the elegant haku lei. When his
mother questioned him as to where he had been, he didn’t want to lie, but he
couldn’t tell her what really happened.
She’d never believe him and would accuse him of telling stories
again. Instead, he told her that he went
into the forest to gather the materials to make her something for
Christmas. He asked her to bend down,
and then he set the lei delicately atop her head and then kissed her on each
cheek. “Mele Kalikimaka Mommy!”
“Oh JoJo! You are such a good and hard-working
boy. This lei is so full of love. I can feel it. Come help me peel and grind these lovely
bananas for the masa so we can make your favorite – Christmas pasteles.”
As they
approached the house, he could smell the distinct scent of achiote oil on the
stove, fresh baked sweet bread in the oven, and a batch of lau lau
steaming in the imu pit. And just
like that he knew his Christmas present would be a feast of pasteles, lau lau,
poi, sweet bread and all his favorite kau kau lovingly made by his
mother and tutu.
It was a Christmas
he would never forget. No matter how
many times he tried to retrace his steps back to the magical garden, he could
never find it. As he got older, married,
and had keiki of his own, he always told them the story of the Banana
Princess on Christmas Eve as he tucked them into bed. He never saw the Hawaiian Princess again
either, but thereafter his garden always had an ample supply of bananas, and
they always had a feast of pasteles on Christmas day.
The End!
