While in Oahu’s North Shore, we paid a visit to the Polynesian Cultural Center, a 42-acre popular tourist site, where each country in the Polynesian Islands has a section showcasing their particular traditions and culture. The center was founded by Mormon missionaries who came to the islands years ago, proving they’re not just fervent door-to-door but also continent-to-island gospel spreaders.
I imagine the first Mormon door-to-door missionaries on the islands, schlepping it through the sand in their black dress shoes, skinny black ties, and white, short-sleeved dress shirts, knocking on the outside walls of native huts, and scaring the islanders into listening to their word because the Mormons, with their lily-white skin, were probably mistaken for ghosts. I assume the natives eventually found them to be harmless, giving, and good island mates, as the Mormons never used any alcohol in their Hawaiian punch drinks, leaving all the more for the natives.
While the countries represented at the center are all part of Polynesia, patriotism dictates that each country’s exhibit highlight their unique qualities. However, the average tourist munching on coconut bread samples courtesy of the Tahitian exhibit or pineapple/guava/coconut ice cream from the Samoan exhibit would be hard-pressed to tell the difference between a Samoan, a Tahitian, or a Hawaiian.
The vast majority of the Polynesians walking around the park were brown-skinned, stocky, and barefoot. The vast majority of all the tourists walking around the park were sun-burned, stocky, and wearing white tennis shoes. It’s quite a collision of worlds to see a tattooed, sarong-wearing, barefoot, shirtless Polynesian chatting it up with a park visitor wearing a University of Texas baseball cap, pleated, khaki shorts, and a “Don’t Mess with Texas” t-shirt-ironically “messed” by a hunk of barbecue chicken from the snack bar.
The Samoan exhibit was one of the most popular in the park. A rather charismatic, short, thickly-muscled man demonstrated how ancient Samoans made fire by rubbing two pieces of wood together. It’s as tedious and sweat-provoking as it sounds and really makes you appreciate the bargain of a 99¢ Bic lighter from 7-11. He also disassembled a coconut by quickly smashing it from several different angles on a sharpened stick in just four seconds.
According to him, the world record for such coconut peeling is 3.1 seconds … I don’t know where else in the world, other than this Cultural Center, it’s ever attempted, but still, it’s impressive. He made the joke that coconuts are ripe when they’re brown … meaning he was ripe and we whiteys in the audience were just not ripe yet—safe cultural racism at it’s schtickiest. I happened by his presentation later in the day and heard him tell the same joke. I wanted to shout out, “Get some new material,” and lob a rotten guava at him, but remembering how quickly he disassembled a coconut on a spear and realizing how my head roughly resembled that, I held my tongue.
The Hawaiian exhibit was quite interesting. The Hawaiian presenter basically informed us of everything Hawai`i wasn’t. He started off his presentation in a challenging, confrontational tone. “You expect to see hula girls swinging their hips around? Is that what you came for? Not here! Go to the Tahiti exhibit for that, it’s not Hawaiian! Men traditionally did the hula dance and it’s almost all in the hands, not the hips.” I think I can speak for the rest of the guys in the audience in saying that if it’s going to be men doing the hula dancing, the less hip swaying the better.
The presenter then held up a pair of sticks. “You expect me to bang these on some drums, like you see in the movies? You want to see that? Not Hawaiian! Traditionally, we play these sticks against each other, but would never bang them on a drum. Go to the Fiji exhibit if you want that!”
