������Ƶ

I spent the duration of the storm inside my home in Hanalei. With me was my closest friend, cut off from her home in Wainiha by Saturday afternoon’s landslide, my 16-year-old son, Owen, and two of his friends.

We didn’t sleep that night. We were restless and on edge, trying to sit still together in the living room, the thunder working our nerves. The boys were giddy with sugar and lack of sleep. They paced between Owen’s room and the living room, unable to sit still, talking on the phone to friends or family. The thunder was relentless. The giddiness gave way to worry. Then the storm subsided about 4:30 a.m. and we got in bed, the kids falling into a deep sleep.

So did I — but not for long.

The morning light was coming through the windows; it jolted me awake. I immediately ran to the hallway windows to peer outside. I surveyed my flooded neighborhood. I had no control over the expletives that came out of my mouth.

There are a lot of voices and stories captured in images on social media. They tell the narrative of the storm in its grim reality. The bison on the beach. The pictures of the Hanalei pier. The surrounding houses’ frames buckled and sagging into water, and a sinkhole at the end of Weke Road.

My second-story home was graciously spared from damages. Wednesday was my first day having students back with me. Not all of them could make it. I asked the few who could to share their stories from the night of the storm.

Hendrix, 15, reveled in the storm throughout the night. He and his friend, Coby, innocently sat out the thunder and lightening on the lanai with a dazzling view of the show, each strike fueling their giggles while Hendrix’s mom was awake in worry. All my students found the lightning and thunder equally thrilling and foreboding. How could they know?

On that first light of Sunday morning after the storm, we didn’t know how far the damage had stretched. Hendrix’s second story home near Hanalei school stood just above the water level. His parents’ large vehicles floated away. They were considering what to do.

One of Owen’s friends was anxious to get home, the other was trapped in Hanalei, his home in Princeville.

I left the house at sunrise in tall rain boots, wading through to get to neighbors’ homes to check on water levels and pets. There were a few other people out walking, all of us in shock. The damage was overwhelming.

Hanalei School had just held a Starry Nights event in Princeville the evening before, and many neighbors were stuck on the other side of the Hanalei Bridge with no way of knowing what they would find when they finally got home. I sent pictures and updates, trying to do as much damage control inside their homes and garages as I could.

And then at midday the river rose and the flooding got worse. Ground-level homes filled with water in a matter of 20 minutes.

Sunday was overwhelming. We pushed through the day helping where we could. I knew I had only slept 45 minutes the night before, but there was to much to do and say and think.

On Monday Tommy, 13, and his dad, Matt, were up early to launch their boat from the Hanalei Pavilion. They ran their zodiac boat onto the sand at Tunnels, unloading supplies and taking on board a couple residents and ten tourists with their luggage. Tommy said the conditions were rough, the skies windy and grey and the ocean churning up lots of white caps.

Tommy captained the boat while his dad settled the passengers and their luggage, making a quick turn-around back to Hanalei. Tommy’s passengers were incredulous and fearful their captain wasn’t up to this job.

Tommy explained: “We had talked about waiting a little to launch because of the conditions but I full sent over the grinding waves. Our boat’s nose would rise up about 45 degrees, I’d punch through the wave, sometimes hearing the engines leave the water, then feel the boat slap back onto the water. Everyone except the local guys though they were thought they were going to die.”

“Coming around dump trucks this guy started yelling at me, scared about my driving; he grabbed the wheel trying to turn the boat around…My dad slapped his hand away from the wheel.”

“Another lady asked my dad why the boats behind us were ‘following us.’ My Dad replied jokingly, ‘In case you fall out, they’re there to get you.’”

“She said, ‘You’re crazy, you know that?’ I was smiling.

“One lady swore out loud that she was going to die in that boat, but after we reached the bay she thanked me for my captaining.”

The kids have more stories. It’s all they can focus on when we’ve met for school this week. I’m anxious to get them back on track for math, but they need to tell their stories. We all do. Tommy, Hendrix, Porter, Owen and Anya spent the next days volunteering. There is work to be done and the kids are spending most of their days doing what they can to help.

It will take a long time to rebuild and repair our island, but some truths are clear. We are a community taking care of each other. The memory of that sleepless night in the howling rain and the images that flooded us the next day will stay with us forever.

Thoughts on this or any other story? Write a Letter to the Editor. Send to news@civilbeat.org and put Letter in the subject line. 200 words max. You need to use your name and city and include a contact phone for verification purposes. And you can still comment on stories on.