Sorcerers’ Prayer
BOOK 1—Sacred Idol
BY
LUIGI N. SPRING
Chapter 7
Tuesday, April 1, 2014—1:30 p.m. hst
Mānoa, Oʻahu, Hawai‘i
The next day, at the spry old age of one-hundred, Aunty Rosie—the best-known kumu hula teacher in the world—found a wild baby pig in her backyard garden banqueting on her prize-winning bok choy cabbage. She yelled out through the screen door in her now famous gravelly voice, “I gonna catch that buggah and turn him into Kālua pork!”
The Hawaiian-Portuguese woman was anything but an imposing sight, at a towering height of four feet, six inches, and eighty-five pounds soaking wet—yet the piglet failed to notice the great-grandmother in stealth mode. Even though the centenarian was wearing her trademark ankle-length bright red muumuu dress with silhouetted white orchids and palms, the baby pua‘a pig completely ignored her.
Aunty did not have any dogs or weapons to kill the intruder; her current husband Luciano had gotten rid of them a long time ago—after a tragic accident that took their oldest daughter. The kumu hula yelled to her great-grandchildren, “Quick! Grab me one rope. I’m gonna lasso his ʻōkole butt.” She snuck out of the house in her bare feet—the grass feeling cool from the recent five-minute downpour. All the while, a magnificent double ānuenue rainbow was blessing the Mānoa town hillside.
The miniature Hawaiian treasure had no fear and was the most kolohe rascal tutu aunty on the island chain. She had already outlived two of her previous husbands, who had been taken by attacks—the first one due to a heart blockage and the second one decapitation by a shark. While the oinker was still eating its kau kau from the vegetable plot, Aunty Rosie quickly made a noose in the Hawaiian olona rope and tossed it with all her might. Amazingly, she snagged the beast around its neck on the first try—all those calf-roping lessons eighty years ago at the Waimanalo town rodeo finally paying off.
What happened next was both comical and nearly tragic for the revered Hawaiian professor of dance. The piglet bolted and took Aunty for the ride of her life. Her bare feet were slick on the wet grass as she surfed behind the feral pig, still holding on to her tether, with her long unbraided gray hair flying in the breeze. Her bared teeth sparkled in the bright sunshine, which made a mesmerizing contrast with her sun-aged brown skin. Due to her longtime wave-riding dexterity, the great-grandmother stayed up on her feet for two complete circuits around the backyard. All the while she was hooting and hollering—having the time of her life. She yelled at the grandkids, “Chee hoo! Hey, keiki, watch your tutu great-gran while I break this pua‘a porker. Chee hooooo!”
Suddenly the piglet veered off back toward the woods and a low-hanging branch. Aunty had to bail out or she would have literally lost her head. As she fell to the side and let go of the rope, she did a couple of tumbles—ass over teakettle. Her great grandchildren ran to her side, expecting the worst. They were amazed to find her lying there—perfectly content and smiling up at the sky with a kolohe rascal look in her eyes. Instantly, the elder woman let out a loud, witchlike cackle. “Did you see me? Did you see your kupuna granny? Hey, did anyone get a video? Wow! Good fun, eh kids? Chee hooooo!” The children repeated after her, “Chee hooooo!” and started rolling around the grass—imitating their acrobatic elder—and laughing all the while.