and be prepared in the native style. He had seen it done and the taste was delicious.
Contrary to the usual orthodox manner of cooking, a hole was dug in the ground. On the previous evening the pig was slaughtered and dipped in scalding water. The entire surface was then scraped of hair and thick coarse integument. The carcass was eviscerated and the entire surface rubbed with coarse salt. In this condition the pig was hung during the night. On the next morning kiawe wood was burned to produce a great quantity of live coal. A large collection of porous rock was placed on these coals and became red hot. The hole in the ground was then filled with these hot rocks, as was the abdominal cavity of the animal. The body was covered with green ti leaves and wrapped with wet gunny-sacks. It was then lowered into the rock-lined hole. Additional rocks were thrown in the space around the pig and the hole was covered with hot ash and soil and left for two hours. During this time, heat penetrated slowly through the animal and the resulting meat was delicious beyond description. Sweet potatoes and yams were placed around the pig and these were baked intact.
When Seikichi had once eaten it, he was surprised that he found even the fat appetizing. In no other way could he relish fat. He was certain that the novelty of this "stone cooked pig" or as the Hawaiian called it "kalua pig" would be a big hit among his friends and ensure the success of the coming event. For compensation, the natives would be content with getting the head of the animal, which was too grotesque for Japanese taste. For a gallon of "swipe" the Hawaiians would gladly go out fishing for him.
In anticipation of this gala event, he had asked Obasan to prepare some home brew, made of potato mash, sugar, and hops. To make any party lively, liquor must flow in unstinted streams. Japanese liked this beverage hot. The accessory food items would be prepared by the men and women pitching in that morning, which would be Sunday. Materials from Japan were scarce, but enough variety could be gotten together to gladden the gustatory sensibilities of the men whose taste buds had become numbed by the monotony of the daily fare. There would be sushi, the pickled rice prepared in several ways, tempura, consisting of vegetables, small fish, or shrimps, fried in specially prepared batter requiring a secret art, and kanten the pink and white jello-like substance made from dried seaweed or agar-agar.
On Sunday, a corps of men and women were busy from early morning, willingly lending their skill and labor for the occasion. Luckily, fish were plentiful and to have been able to get the red snapper-like uhu and kumu was indeed fortunate. It lent not only color to the table but symbolized an auspicious omen. From the large ones, the skin was carefully dissected to make a flap, and the underlying white flesh was excised en masse and cut obliquely in thin slices. The carved meat was then replaced and to casual observers the fish did not appear to be mutilated at all. The tail was tied taut to the head with a string so that the fish looked as if it were leaping out of the water. Radish was sliced artistically so that the end product became a mesh or net and this was spread like a shawl over the fish.
The display of colors, contrasting one against the other, was a part of Japanese cooking technique. To feast with the eyes was important. Expert seasoning with shoyu and sugar to effect culinary perfection was necessary from the standpoint of taste.
For the banquet, the barrack was converted into a huge hall. Partitions were torn down. Three 12 by 1 lumbers were placed side by side about a foot and a half above the matted floor the entire length of the room. These tables were covered with fresh wrapping paper. The plates were set at intervals and loaded with different foods. Separately, each guest took as much as he could take care of in several mouthfuls on a smaller plate. This was replenished time and again. No waste took place by this procedure. A drinking cup of glazed china, shaped like an inverted cone and capable of holding about an ounce of liquid, was placed alongside plate and chopsticks.
Guests began arriving at about four o'clock and by five they took their seats, squatting on the matted floor. Women dressed gaily for the occasion came in with earthenware bottles of heated "swipes" and passed the liquor around. The tiny cups were usually held between the fingers of the left hand for pouring, and were passed around from one to another. Such exchange of cups was considered conducive to good fellowship, and woe to the one who refused a proffered cup! The women with the steaming liquor floated about here and there urging the men to imbibe more freely by filling empty receptacles. Food was taken liberally as it was supper time. They were well satisfied with the rare, tasteful products of the mountain and sea and everyone marvelled at the "kalua pig." Almost all who had tasted pig prepared in this manner for the first time nodded approval. Contrary to reports that natives ate only poi and salted salmon, this dish was a whole lot more appetizing than their own way of eating pork. They would henceforth "live seventy-five days longer" now that they had eaten something novel.
At a moment when everyone had the edge of his hunger dulled, and the bride and groom had taken their seats, the toastmaster of the evening stood up and announced amidst hand claps, "We are convened tonight to celebrate the wedding of our community leader, Mr. Seikichi Arata. That so many have assembled from varied distances bespeaks well the sentiments with which his friends regard him. On this happy occasion that comes only once in the lifetime of a man and woman, we shall begin the formal part of the ceremony with the time-honored chant of the Takasago by our venerable Mr. Saito."
Gray-haired and solemn-faced for the occasion, Saito straightened his curving back, and in a sitting posture roared out from the depth of his abdomen, a monotonous chant the rhythm of which had been handed down almost without alteration for seven hundred years.
"Waves of the four seas are stilled,
Even the branches of trees fail to bend,
Peace eternal reigns undisturbed,
The twin pines of Aioi symbolically stand,
To bless the good fortune and prosperity of people,
Who dwell under a sovereign so beneficent."
Saito was not very good. His facial muscles worked in contortions. He became flushed and his words were hardly intelligible. But the deep tone of his voice was different from the ordinary, and it did lend dignity to the program.
Like the Tannenbaum of Germany, the evergreen pine stood for longevity and everlasting troth among the common people. The twin pines of Aioi symbolized eternal faith. The legend is that this ballad was written by a priest from the famous shrine of Aso in Kumamoto who made a pilgrimage to Yedo in prehistoric or mythological Japan and on his way came to a place called Aioi. Here he met a gray-haired, dignified man and his wife. The two had apparently aged gracefully, for while they swept the grounds cleanly around the two gigantic pine trees that stood near the highway, they exuded a feeling of calm and peace to the passersby. The priest was filled with reverence and talked to the aged people. He was commended for his piety in return and was instructed to make a pilgrimage to the shrine nearby on his return trip. After bidding them goodbye and going a short way, the priest looked back and discovered the couple gone from the scene. They were, he concluded, the spirits of the twin pines that graced the roadside. In deep awe, he incorporated this incident in his travelogue which he called Takasago.
The above excerpt had been chanted for many centuries at weddings in order to wish peace, happiness, and conjugal faith to the newlyweds. Young people starting on a new voyage of life would need a happily married pair like the couple of Aioi to act as preceptors and advisors. For to "become gray together" signified a mellow marital state after raising a brood of healthy children and enjoying the remaining span of life leisurely and wisely. For this purpose, an old pair happily married for many years would be the ideal. But in a village such as Makaweli, Obasan and her husband would perhaps fill the requirement. So at this announcement they acted as the official "go-between" in Hawaii. It fell to Mr. Fukuda as the official matchmaker to present the bride and groom. With a short biographical narrative he introduced the bride and groom amidst the resounding applause of the assembled throng.
Standing with her husband as they were being presented, Haru felt embarrassed and small, and the tight obi seemed to stifle her breathing. She was conscious of the hundreds of eyes being curiously fastened upon her. Never in her life had she felt such stage fright. It seemed an eternity until she automatically bowed her upper torso in sincere humility and all was over. She sat down but kept her eyes fixed on the table. She half listened to the rather lengthy