Stephen Lavezzo reflects on the similarities between living in Hawaii and the Bay Area.
There is a concept in Hawaiian culture known as “kuleana.” In simple terms, it means respect and responsibility for the land. It comes from a culture that has endured a long struggle to survive — a past few tourists know.
It’s easier to plan beach days, choose restaurants and post your favorite spot… than to see beyond the surface. The focus often stays on quaint “aloha” greetings and SPF levels.
But the sea, the flowers, the breeze, the birdsong — these are not just beautiful things. They are part of a story. A story of resilience, sorrow and injustice. There’s no absolute right to claim this place as “ours.” But we do have a responsibility to understand that it is a privilege to experience it.
I’ve felt it before, though stronger this summer, sailing past the cliffs of Nā Pali, and swimming in the waters of Kailua — I listen. I am a guest here. A tourist, a visitor to a sacred place with a proud ancestral presence. “This isn’t mine. It belongs to them.” Never more clearly than when I pass a Big Island umbrella, beach chairs, towels and an empty chip bag blowing in the wind. Where are they?
