Journey with Ancestors

"Walk like your ancestors are watching.  Do you hear me, Girl?"

Those famous words of my grandmother resound in my head like the needle on the record.  Preferably a 78, if thereʻs anybody alive who remembers those.  Sometimes those words ring in my mind like the first auto-flip cassette decks of the 80s.  We called grandma Nana.  She always said she was eternal, so donʻt call her old.  Not even her great grandchildren had ever seen Nana get old, until the week that she passed through the tunnel of eternity.

Nanaʻs name was Marion J Māui.  She was half Irish and half Hawaiian by blood, but like all women born and raised in Philly, Nana was the toughest man we knew.  When Nana walked into the room, children, parents, teachers, lawmakers and politicians stood straight as if the president showed up.  Suddenly, people How to act appropriately.  During my lifetime, Nana was the thread that held it all together.  I spent a lot of my young life with her, and  we trooped much of my teen years together.  She was my best friend, my guidance, my living force, my everything.  I loved my grandparents and valued them dearly.

No matter what I was doing, Nana was always my strongest supporter.  Her token line was to "Walk like your ancestors are watching,"  and she didnʻt hesitate to tell you that they were watching you embarrass them, when someone acted up.  But she knew I was different.  My "acting up" was always in activism and I managed to see right through everything, causing the adults pressure to be righteous.  Nana knew and spent all of her time developing that gift. In the summer of 1985 Nana told the uncles from Oʻahu to bring my books from the Bishop Museum with my family implements. The implements were gifted to me, then put away for when I grew up.  I was regularly tested on the books.  

She knew that getting me prepared, keeping me alive and sending me on my way were going to be her last goals.  She made sure I was trained in many ways of life, while my father kept me busy with the arts and native practices.  Each relative was responsible for another area of my learning.  It was exhausting sometimes.  I was always working on something until I was well skilled with it then presented the next lesson.  Ironically today I am always working on something and preparing for the next step.  There were many obstacles along the way, each one met with resilience.  During this time, I became structured as a public servant and leader.  

Legal and familial obligation held me to the physical presence on the East Coast for many years.  Once those obligations were lifted, myself and children gave all of our belongings away to embark on our homeward journey.  The year was 2013, the children had undergone immersion home schooling and the plans were set.  I remembered Nanaʻs words:  Walk like your ancestors are watching.  Never take your foot off the path.  Restore our family, restore our families, restore our country.

I will walk like my ancestors are watching,
never taking my foot off the path of restoration.