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Under blue skies, Mario Siatris watched a bulldozer and workers in disposable coveralls clear what little was left of his fire-scorched home. 

Bricks. Cement walls. Appliance parts. Warped metal. The top six inches of soil, which pose a potential health threat from contaminants unleashed onto the landscape during the ferocious Lahaina wildfire Aug. 8.

All of it dropped into a dumpster and hauled off to a landfill built to safeguard the public from hazardous fire debris.

When the work was done, only bare dirt, covered in a layer of gravel to prevent soil erosion, remained.

Mario’s neighbors had warned him about the grief he might feel seeing his century-old homestead reduced to raw land. But in his mind, the removal of so much rubble marked another small step forward in his personal recovery from the nation’s deadliest modern day wildfire.

“I don’t know if it’s just being numb and wanting to go forward,” Mario explained a few days later. “A lot of people talked about how bad they felt and they cried for all the life that was there that’s been lost, all of the memories. I never had that feeling.”

In a matter of days, Mario expects to receive test results from soil samples excavated from his lot during the three-day debris removal process. If the soil is deemed safe, the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers will hand his property back over to the jurisdiction of Maui County.

At that point, Mario still won’t be able to live on his property, not even in the trailer he and his business partner U‘i Kahue-Cabanting plan to ship from Oregon to Maui. 

Government leaders have said landowners won’t be permitted to live on their lots again until Lahaina’s fire-damaged water and sewer systems have been rehabilitated. There’s still no official timeline for that work to be completed.

“The hardest thing is waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting,” Mario says.

But having his lot officially rid of debris and hazards will allow Mario to move ahead with building and permitting. Mario’s eyeing a five-bedroom package home by Honsador Lumber that would allow him and his two adult children to have space and privacy for their three separate households while living under one roof. 

It would cost about $900,000 to build. Mario anticipates he’ll receive about a half-million dollars in insurance money for the loss of his home, plus another $160,000 or so to cover the value of his furniture and other belongings. 

He’ll need to come up with another $200,000, at least, to afford the home he’s aiming for and he’s not sure how he’ll manage to do it.

“When I’m gone, I want to leave my kids a nice house but I don’t want to leave them something they have to pay for,” Mario says. “Even if it works out to $1,000 a month for them each, that’s $1,000 they could be using to make ends meet. To stay in Hawaii, it seems like you’ve got to be debt-free.”

Mario is still living in a government-sponsored condominium at the resort where he works as a landscaper. He’s still struggling with the reality of working and living on the same property, although he’s grateful for a place to stay while he awaits the government’s go-ahead to reconstruct his home.

Recently, Mario spent a Saturday night sleeping in the bed of his truck under the stars at Puamana Beach Park. 

He hadn’t been camping since before the fire. But he used to camp on the beach about once a month, weaving coconut bowls, fishing, catching waves, brewing campfire coffee at dawn and drinking a couple of Heinekens at night. 

He loved the simplicity of it all, how he felt more connected with nature. 

This camping experience was different. Instead of being liberated, Mario felt uncomfortable.

His mind raced with a string of thoughts: “I should go back to the hotel, back to the air conditioning. Can I do this? It’s been so long since I’ve done this.” 

Mario almost jumped into the driver’s seat and drove away from the lull of crashing waves. But he forced himself to stay. When he woke up before dawn the next day, he felt calm and refreshed.

“A simple thing like that, it kind of reset everything,” Mario explained a few days later. 

“People have $2 million homes with beautiful kitchens, beautiful things,” he continued. “What do they do on the weekend? They want to go camping. I used to crack up at that, I never understand. Now I think I get it. It kind of changed my perspective. Like, I can do this, I can keep going.”

Civil Beat’s coverage of Maui County is supported in part by grants from the Nuestro Futuro Foundation.