An Offering to Pele

~As told by Chief Konala to Kepi, the record keeper or the witch~

"It was time for my small tribe to make an offering to the Goddess Pele. We scaled the lava mountain, leaving the warm valley floor, and up the treacherous slope to the cold, rainy, wind swept edge of the volcano where Pele awaited our sacrifice. I carried the small, sleeping child on my shoulders. The child was heavy like a sack of 'uala (sweet potato) and was fidgety trying to stay asleep. The child's mother trudged along beside me and my first born son was our scout finding our path through this black landscape.

Our shadows changed from the right to the left and I knew we're close to the dwelling of Pele. The climbing was made more difficult with the windy rain slapping us from all directions. Ah, Pele's known for her violent temper and lusty nature. Patience is not one of her virtues, either, I thought to myself. When I saw the white steam breathing out of the opening of the mountain, I knew we finally made it to Pele, the Goddess of Fire.

I raised the small child up and offered him as a sacrifice. Before I could chuck him in, the earth shook and let out a low, guttural sound, not unlike severe indigestion, and the voice of Pele said to me "Uhhh, no mahalo. 'Oe pa'a la." (Translation: Uhhh, no thank you. You keep him.) The Goddess had spoken. Even the earth knows when something is rotten to the core.

Disappointedly, I carried the child down the mountain, back to the car and fastened him in his car seat. As usual he woke up laughing and shouting "I farted!" Now the reality hits me hard on the face with the stink of the child's gas... I'll never get rid of this kid! I have to work until I am 86!"

Konala with his tribe: Kepi, Henelele and Ekana.

Kepi, the record keeper, or the witch.