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Horizons a journal of cultural issues Kapi' olani Community College 2003 HORIZONS a journal of international writing & art 2003 Volume XI Published by the Board of Student Publications Kapi' olani Community College • 4303 Diamond Head Road • Honolulu, HI 96816 Mahala to the instructors who encouraged their students to submit their work to this publication and to the students who took the time to revise their papers and provide photographs. Also, to David Behlke, Director of Koa Gallery, and his assistant, Paul Staub, who took the time to help us find art and provide accompanying information. Justin Hahn, Editor Ami Blodgett, Copyeditor Julia Uyeda, Copyeditor Winifred Au, Adviser 2 ___________________________ _____ Horizons Table of Contents Jar of Life 5 Jason Ordenstein A Personal Account of Japanese Funeral 8 Jennifer Thorbjomsen The Healing Art of Reiki 10 Angela Chong Chado 14 Teri Albano The Femme Fatale in Chinese Literature 18 Jocelyn K. Lau The Influence of War and Conflict 20 Edwin Davis, Jr. in Modern Chinese Literature Two Commentaries on the Writings 24 Davis Hoffman & of Zuangzhi Chuang Tse Hugh Cannon Various Uses of Bamboo 26 Donna Galiciano in the Filipino Culture The Filipino Martial Art of Eskrima 30 Tiffany Canonigo The United States and Iraq: How Past Policies 33 CaseyBunn Shaped Current Events Gauchos: Cowboys of South America 37 Marisa Adams 0 Le Ta Tatau: The Art of the Samoan Tautau 42 Natalie Holomalia Balanced Reciprocity: Ceremonial Exchange 47 Rami Braginsky Practices in a Samoan Funeral Samoan 'Awa Ceremony 51 Thomas Sagapolu Parfum Exotique by Baudelaire 55 Jackie Pamerleau (translation) L' Invitation au Voyage by Baudelaire 56 Danielle Fisher (translation) La'au Lapa'au 58 Boyd Judd 'Ava, Ethnobotanical Magic 63 Chris Arruda Fatal Secrets, Fatal Silence 67 Cassandra Wilson Yoga in Modern Times 70 Andrei Lyovin The Difficult Healthcare Melting Pot 75 Ronnie Salvador, Jr. Horizons ---------------------------------------------------------------------- 3 Art Landscape (front cover) Yue Tin Mui, watercolor on rice paper, 1983. Gift of V.J. Haiugh, 1998. Chaire with shifuku for tea ceremony 16 Photo courtesy of Wayne Muromoto Japanese Tea Ceremony 17 Photo courtesy of Wayne Muromoto 3 Paintings: Dsui-painting: Meditation, 23 Tseng Yu Ho, photos courtesy of KOA Art Gallery Looking Back at the Sunshine, Morning Walk Eskrima: stick fighting 31 Photo by Moriso Teraoka Gauchos at Estancia Santa Susana 40 Photograph by Philip Douglas, reprinted with permission by photographer. More photos at: www.worldisround.com/home/pnd1/ Gaucho playing the guitar 40 Photo courtesy of Marisa Adams Hawaiian medicinal plants 63 Drawing by Tia Ballantine Berger Awa: Dark spotted nene and giant Mahakea 64 Photos courtesy of Chris Arruda Nene and Queen's awa (mo'iawa) 65 Photos courtesy of Chris Arruda Photograph by Moriso Teraoka Japanese Flower Arrangement 4 ____________________________________________________________________________ flor~ons Jason Ordenstein The Jar of Life Kyong, a bouncing bundle of unrestrained Korean spill from the brim. These droplets fall to the ground, joy, skips fearlessly down the rolling hills, her eyes scorching the earth black, forming paths of tiny tears wandering aloof, oblivious to anything around her. of sorrow next to Kyong's lonely, blissful footsteps. She In her hand she carries a round glass jar. It is odd and makes her way to the yard outside her house. misshapen, and shimmers with an ugly green hue. Her The yard is dry and riddled with cracks. A desert uncle, a self-taught craftsmen, tried making a bunch wasteland hungering for nourishing rains. Her eyes of them for her family but couldn't quite get the shape rest on the charred carcass that once was a lychee right. All of her family's jars now have a protruding tree. It lies there, sad and pitiful, forever stuck in a bump in their see-through bellies. With this jar, she blackened embrace, oozing miserable rivers of sweet, will scoop up the life force of an entire village, and heal milky-white pus. It once towered six stories over the the mysterious rift that plagues her ailing family. house and garnered the admiration of all the villagers. It is still half an hour till morning comes. She stops Visitors would come from miles around to see its at the top of the hill, and holds the jar up above her magnificence and snatch handfuls of the sweet fruit. head. It shines with the reflected power of a thousand So intoxicating was the taste that it was said you could pounding moons. The moon up above, so high, still only eat a few at a time, or else you would fall victim to gleaming its last fingers of life, refuses to give way to a sudden deep sleep. Once you woke up from the sleep, its over-bearing sister, the Sun. you would be mired in a veil of depression and would The wind senses the overwhelming beauty of the be slow in reaction and thought for months on end. moment and suddenly picks up in intensity, creating She vividly remembers the day her father lit the an eerie chorus for little Kyong to bellow out a song. yard on fire. Without a word to anybody, he suddenly She sings with sparrow lips, soft and deftly they stormed outside the house and put a match to the cackle: Moon, Oh Silvery Moon What kind of Moon are ground, burning the tree down in the process. He had you right now? Where? Where? Up there in the sky? I just heard that his brother, his very last living relative, am high above, up in the Mountains, I am. had suddenly died. From this point on something She eventually makes her way to a broken quarry. inside him died as well. She remembers standing It is filled with brackish brown and green water that silently by the window with her father's arm wrapped reeks with unrelenting pungency. She squats down around her, watching the flickering flames lap onto near the edge of the water and looks deep within the living bulwark of the lychee tree. In her mind she it. The mutated -looking shapes of baby dragonflies heard the tree's cries of anguish for years to come. squirm in the primordial muck. Their bulbous, Kyong tucks the jar underneath her arm and congealed eyes pulsate and laugh at her. In the water, walks into the house. She tiptoes slowly across the she does not find her reflection gazing back at her. creaking wooden floor. The soft pitter-patter of her Instead, she sees the spirits of countless broken lives, footsteps carefully moves towards the easternmost still haunting, still refusing to remain buried in the room. She peers into the room. Her eyes glisten, they past like they should. The spirits drift to the surface are wide, wide open. Her eyes are open like a hare to look at her. They are hard to look at, only existing in watching a sly fox wandering too closely. The smoke is momentary flashes. They look to have pale, haggard, thick in this room. Kyong tries to pull the sticky smoke bird -like masks for faces. Their formless bodies seem from her body, but it is no use. It sticks to her hair, riddled with hollowed, rotting, bony extensions and forming little clumps that don't untangle no matter sharp feline talons. how hard she pulls. Her father is here. The breath of Fearing to look into those listless eyes any longer, life is slowly oozing from his lips, filling the room with she quickly plunges the glass jar into the forbidden its unmistakable haze. water. She gathers so much fluid that little droplets You have had many wonderful adventures haven't Instructor: Gail Harada, English 200 5 you, harrabuji. You have had so many, that people will into her father's mouth. His forehead is burning hot still talk of them long after you are dead. Yes they will. underneath her hand. He is burning inside. They will talk as you once were. As a young man. His eyes are so hot they do not see anything but Vibrant and brave, as unbreakable as an ocean rock flames. He sees the face of his friend, screaming in pounded by a millennia of crashing waves, unrelenting unholy anguish, his entire body engulfed in the fires in the face of horrors that most men will never know. of hatred. He was only 13 years old then. He was But now, you are tired ... so, so very tired. Too tired for a forced miner in a Japanese mining camp during any more adventures. All you want to do is sleep, sleep WWII. His friend was captured trying to escape from a heavy deep sleep and leave your aching, scarred the abysmal conditions they were forced to live in, and body behind. You want to drift away to a place where was promptly made an example of to the rest of the you can finally get some well deserved peace. Korean laborers. Two years later, at the age of 15, he Kyong feels a cold emptiness permeate her chest would make the excruciating decision to escape along as she looks into the gaping hole of her dying father's with 32 others. Miraculously, out of the 150 original mouth. His life essence oozes slowly out. It wafts miners, he would be one of four to return home alive. up to the ceiling, forming beautiful formations of The flames are burning. They burn so hot and thin, curling rings. She doesn't know how long she he does not know how to put them out. He only sees stands there. Perhaps she stands there so long, that his friend's face still innocently smiling at him, still she blossoms into a beautiful woman.

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