The Aloha Paradigm, page 11
I ask, “Where is the man who killed my wife! Where is Jephson?” As I say his name, I spot Jephson. He looks shocked. “What are you doing here?” he growls.
“I know what all of you are up to—and it is treason against the Kingdom of Hawaii. You turned against our King. You betrayed your people for money. But I am here for you, Jephson. You killed Kealaula. Meet your fate now.”
I grab Jephson and beat him on the neck and chest. He yelps in pain. His friends scream for help. As I pummel Jephson’s body over and over, I look up to see the outline of a huge, dark form come across the beach toward me—a very large, tall man dressed in flowing clothes. I cannot make out his utterances or understand his words, but I grasp the nature of his presence. He is here to kill me. Fear whips through my body, and then the image of Kealaula dissolves my fears and fuels my rage for revenge. I can hardly breathe. He plucks Jephson’s body out of my grip, freeing him to escape.
“I want you to come with me—now, this minute.” The booming voice of this large creature enrages me. I can see the man’s eyes gleaming with evil.
“No!” I bellow as I try to push the figure away so I can get at Kealaula’s killer. The brutish creature seizes me by the arm. I manage to break his vice-like hold on me, only to have him grip my other arm. I fight back with my full force, kicking and punching and doing anything I can to get loose.
“You are coming with me. You will be better off if you don’t fight back.”
I cannot believe how strong this man is. He is formidable, almost seven feet tall, and very muscular. He has the strength of steel. The man laughs scornfully as I kick him in the stomach, and he insists with venom that my resistance is futile. I finally manage to break loose from his grip long enough to pick up an iron post. I swing it against the man’s head with all my might. I hear a sickening thud and see blood spattering all over his white robe. He emits a muffled grunt followed by laughter. He again grabs me and drags me along the beach. I am panicking, incredulous at his strength.
“No, no, I am not going with you,” I scream. The man shows no mercy as he grabs me by the arms and pulls me along the beach. I feel excruciating pain as he ruthlessly drags me over the sand. My skin is being cut, scraped, and burned. I feel as if I am a pig on its way to slaughter. Finally, the attacker stops at the edge of the water and frees my arms, securing me by putting his foot on my stomach and pinning down my legs. I know I am losing the battle. Why are these betrayers acting as they are? I see blood running down the leg of my assailant, but I see no wound. I touch my head. Terrified, I realize that it is my head that is bleeding. I have struck myself with the iron. It is my own blood that I saw spurting on my attacker’s clothes.
I am feeling weaker and weaker. Life is oozing out of me. My end seems imminent. I think about Kealaula and the people I love. I feel fortunate that I will be with her soon. The man continues to come at me with a heavy blunt instrument, and I think, “This is it.” My very last recollections are of the huge man’s arms coming down on my head with a heavy iron rod. I perceive a sound like a shrill call. A white light flashes before my eyes. And then there is nothing.
Antonio abruptly sat straight up on the couch. Wet with sweat, he could barely breathe. This was not a nightmare. He knew this really happened. It was the story of a past life—his past life.
PART III
THE AFTERMATH
_
CHAPTER 8
VERIFYING ANTONIO’S STORY
Antonio asked for a glass of water. Gulping it down, he looked at Norah and Cassie and said, “Wow, that was intense.”
Silence filled the room. Antonio finally broke the stillness, “I’m counting on the two of you help me investigate these matters scientifically. I need to know if, as I believe, I really lived a past life or if I’m a nut case. I want the truth!”
“Antonio, why do you think you remember this past life?” asked Cassie.
“My current life is so outlandishly prosperous that the only way I could have reached this level of power and wealth is by dipping into some body of accumulated wisdom. I ask myself how I had the so-called ‘luck’ to channel my actions into all the right places and at all the right times. I feel strongly that my wealth is not just mine, that it was given to me. But by whom? And to do what? It feels right to say my wealth is a tool to help all people. And meeting Alicia is no coincidence. I’m convinced that her spirit is that of Kealaula and she will help me do the right thing—find the right path. Why is my consciousness steeped in the wisdom of the Hawaiian ancients, a culture with an attitude of respect for what nature has given to us? It’s weird, but I feel that if it was adopted by all, the planet could be saved.”
Cassie was flabbergasted by Antonio’s response.
“I have always sensed that my dreams informed me of a past life,” added Antonio. “But as I grow older, more and more memories emerge in my consciousness, and I’m compelled to understand why.”
Cassie continued to prod Antonio. “Can you accept this situation as inexplicable? How will it help you to know what’s real and what isn’t?”
“I’m not sure. But I believe that if I tell my story, and we can show that I really had a previous life, it could make my current life more meaningful. Nobody knows what happens after we die, but in the back of our minds, we all are aware death is coming. Maybe my memories of another life, another family, might help me and others understand some of the mysteries of life and death. I need to find out what the memories mean. I really hope you’ll help me.”
Norah, with great compassion, said, “We will talk, and we will see if we can help.”
“By the way, I have never been to Hawaii. I don’t want to set foot on the islands until I fully explore the intelligence in my dreams and memories to rule out that it’s coming from prompts in this life. That’s where you and Cassie come in. I want to know if my unconscious and dream knowledge come from another life. Please, think it over tonight. I want to give you time to discuss and come to a decision that you are comfortable with. Is it okay if I call tomorrow at 3 p.m. to ask you for your verdict?”
Norah nodded yes. Antonio opened the door and waved a farewell.
Norah was still processing the session with Antonio as she later spoke with Cassie. “What if Antonio is right?” she asked her friend. “What if he has lived twice?”
“It would be earth-shattering,” said Cassie, with some sarcasm in her voice.
Norah peered into Cassie’s eyes. “I believe him. Do you?”
Norah noted that Cassie’s response seemed to imply more than a little reservation.
“I think he believes what he is experiencing. He has given us a first-hand account of the memories of a man, Mark, or Maleko, if you prefer. But is this real? Was Maleko a real person? Was Kealaula a real person? Are there any records that these two people, Maleko and Kealaula existed? Of course we can check on facts about the King and Queen because that is recorded history, but can we find others who were not well known? It’s a nice fantasy with a nice call to action. Perhaps it’s a way for Antonio to cope with his own personal ghosts from the past. And his future ambitions.”
“But, Cassie, what if we research the past and discover that Maleko is a real person?”
“We will cross that bridge if we ever come to it, Norah.”
Norah sensed that Cassie’s open-mindedness was waning, at least for the moment.
“Our job is to be the detective duo,” said Norah. “We need to look up known sources and check them with Antonio’s memories. Don’t you think it would be gratifying to find answers if possible?”
“I don’t know anything about Hawaiian history. Do you?” queried Cassie.
“Not a thing, but we can find out. Our next step is a trip to Hawaii. Antonio will fund it,” said Norah firmly.
A few days later, Norah and a reluctant Cassie began their pilgrimage at the airport, lugging notepads, video equipment, and reading materials. Antonio had arranged first-class travel. Their plan was to visit wherever Antonio claimed to have been as Maleko.
The contrast between economy and first class was eye opening. Academia had never paid to place professors in any first-rate conditions. The two friends happily zipped through the ticket line, handed their luggage to attentive attendants, and encountered the smiling faces of security officers as they whizzed through the gates. They waited in the luxurious first-class lounge with comfy cushioned chairs and ample outlets in which to plug their computers. Surrounded by copious food and drink, they sipped on Courvoisier and eighty-year-old scotch. When it was time to board the plane, they were greeted by the sweet, soft sound of Hawaiian music and by stewards and stewardesses dressed in Hawaiian garb. The wide plush leather seats in the airy first-class section provided ample leg room and magically converted into beds that were so comfortable they made the twelve-hour trip more than tolerable.
Stepping off the plane in Honolulu was dreamy. They were greeted at the airport by a tall, dark-haired, muscular man with kind eyes called Palila. Antonio had arranged for an agent to provide an experienced guide and protector for Cassie and Norah. He made a point of leaving the selection of escorts to a travel firm of the highest quality so he was not involved with the selection of any escorts since he did want his biases or beliefs to affect any of Cassie and Norah’s work. A broad smile radiated from Palila’s face as he placed leis smelling of fresh ginger around their necks and introduced himself. He told them to call him Pali for short. As he drove them to their destination, he cheerfully chattered about the beauty of his island home and played the songs of famous celebrity IZ, singing the sweet sounds of a Hawaiian traditional song, “Ahi Wela,” meaning “Twinkle Little Star.” Norah’s eyes were moist as she listened to the haunting sounds of the Hawaiian tunes.
Pali brought them to their living quarters—a beautiful house that overlooked Kailua beach. From their bedroom windows, they watched aquamarine waves crash onto the white sands of the most beautiful beach they had ever seen. After settling in, Norah pushed Cassie to get organized so they could trace Antonio’s steps and interview persons who might have the expertise to confirm or disprove events and facts that he had related.
A tour of Iolani Palace was their starting point since so much of Maleko’s story happened in and around the palace. As Norah and Cassie walked out the front door, Pali appeared out of nowhere and handed them each a card. “Remember, I am your driver. Just call this number. I will take you anywhere you want to go and watch over you. Orders from Antonio via my travel firm.”
“Okay. Iolani Palace, please,” smiled Norah.
As they pulled into one of the parking spaces under the huge banyan trees on the palace grounds, Pali told them their timing was perfect. “The Royal Hawaiian Band presents free concerts on the Iolani Palace grounds on most Fridays from noon to 1 p.m. If you are finished with your tour, come out to hear the band. I will wait for you under these trees.”
Cassie and Norah smiled; they were one step ahead of Pali. They had scheduled the tour so it would end as the band performance began. Norah was quite excited about being in the midst of the geography that Antonio had described.
Cassie was starting to fret. “I don’t know what we’re doing here. What will it prove?”
Norah responded, “Cassie, taking the public tour of the palace will provide us with information from neutral people who don’t know Antonio. It can tell us a lot.”
Cassie rolled her eyes quietly and felt a shudder shoot down her spine. Why did I get talked into this? kept spluttering through her brain.
The tour guide for Iolani Palace was a native Hawaiian in her late seventies. She wore a flowing Hawaiian mu-mu with an exquisite ginger lei around her neck. Wise-looking and knowledgeable, she was a picture-perfect choice to teach them about Iolani Palace.
“I am your docent for this tour. Iolani Palace is a historic landmark for Hawaiians and earned a place on the National Register of Historic Places in 1966. The palace was restored and opened to the public as a museum in 1978. Under the Kamehameha Dynasty, King Kamehameha III used Iolani Palace as the royal residence of the rulers of the Hawaii Kingdom. When David Kalakaua became King, he decided to build a new Iolani Palace to improve the world image of Hawaii. Kalakaua saw it as a symbol of the greatness of the Hawaiian people, and he wanted the world to admire and respect their accomplishments. King Kalakaua brought electricity and telephones to the palace even before they appeared in America’s White House. The finishing touches were put in place in November 1882. The total cost was more than $340,000, which was a huge sum in those days. King Kalakaua’s detractors blasted him, labeling him a corrupt spendthrift. They said building such a palace was an unnecessary expense. King Kalakaua was affectionately called ‘The Merrie Monarch’ by his people, who adored him, but his detractors used the term disparagingly.”
Norah and Cassie exchanged glances. So far the docent was corroborating what Antonio had said. But Antonio might have heard or read it somewhere even though he claimed never to have visited the islands previously.
“Iolani Palace was completed in the ninth year of King Kalakaua’s reign. He planned a coronation ceremony at the opening celebration. He launched the festivities on February 12, 1883, for all Hawaiians. Kalakaua created Keliipona Hale, a pavilion for the coronation itself, which later became a bandstand and the permanent home on palace grounds for the Royal Hawaiian Band. The hula was brought back to life at this festivity. Dancing, laughter, and good times prevailed. The King spent $4,000 every month—again, a very large amount at the time—so a wide audience could enjoy the concerts, which were, and still are, public and open to everyone.” The docent smiled., “Be sure not to miss the concert that follows this tour.”
Both Norah and Cassie found themselves enjoying the tour. Cassie was enthralled by the outside architecture of the palace, which was a unique style of American Florentine. The spacious halls and handsome rooms inside the palace were irresistible to Norah. The magnificent ornate koa wood staircase and ornate plasterwork in the grand hall were awe provoking. The throne room and the dining room astounded them. Queen Lili’uokalani had been an accomplished musician and composer, explained the docent. The Queen played piano, guitar, ukulele, and other instruments. She created both music and lyrics to express her love for Hawaii. She played her compositions for guests on an exquisite koa wood piano in the Blue Room.
The guide brought them upstairs where they viewed the bedrooms. They were led into the library, in which Antonio claimed that Kealaula had been bludgeoned to death. Antonio’s description of the room closely matched the space in which Norah and Cassie were standing. Cassie asked the docent, “Do you know if the Queen’s assistants worked in this room while she reigned?”
The Hawaiian docent looked at Cassie. “Interesting question. It could be. This was a private library for the royal family but, of course, the Queen had helpers and ohana—extended family—to do research since the royal book collection was huge. Both the Queen and the King loved to learn about the world, other nations and world events. I can’t say for sure, but it is likely that an aide would do this kind of work in the library.”
Norah felt her heart skip a beat. Antonio’s description of Kealaula’s work was a high-probability event. Her eyes fell on the fireplace mantel. She saw two very heavy gold candlesticks. “Were those candlesticks originally in the palace?” she asked.
The guide’s gaze penetrated Norah. “Another interesting question. Much furniture and many artifacts vanished from the palace after the overthrow. Conspirators snapped up valuables, and other pieces were sold at public auctions. Luckily, over the years, many items have found their way back to their rightful places in the palace, returned by people from all over the world. Those candlesticks to which you are referring are extremely heavy and were sent back to us by a man who lived in Wisconsin. When he learned they came from this palace, he wrote to us. He had bid on these items at an auction. After he purchased them, he placed them in his own house. Their beauty made him feel proud to own them. But he often wondered where they came from. Their history was not known. One day he visited Hawaii and came on this tour. He made the connection that these candle sticks belonged here when he saw a picture of them in the museum. He had a nagging suspicion that he needed to bring them to their rightful place, and once he recognized the palace was their original home and discovered they were part of the Hawaiian Kingdom, he was happy to return them to their rightful abode. ”
The docent continued, “We are trying to recover any and all of the original palace treasures that we can. Our website asks anyone who thinks they may have original items from the palace or know their whereabouts to contact the curator.”
“Just curious,” Norah said shyly, feeling as if she should not ask but knew she had to do so. “I have another question for you. Maybe it’s silly and I have been watching too many bad movies, but was there ever a murder in this room?”
The docent visibly paled. “I cannot answer that. Let’s move on now.” Norah shivered. Cassie recoiled and could not believe how foolish Norah sounded and felt a shiver of embarrassment move up her spine.
The docent continued recounting the history of the palace. “The King and his family, including his sister, Queen Lili’uokalani, lived or worked in Iolani Palace until the overthrow. The evolution of the Hawaiian government from provisional government to a republic, then to a territory of the United States, and finally to the State of Hawaii transformed the palace into a government building. The Queen, who was trying to rewrite Hawaii’s constitution to return power to the monarch instead of giving it to the rich merchants, was charged with having knowledge of treason and failing to report it. A military commission tried her—right here where we stand—in the throne room. Lili’uokalani was found guilty, sentenced, and imprisoned in her own palace for eight months. She was finally freed in late 1896 and returned to her home, under house arrest. Our beloved Queen died at the age of 79, waiting for the Kingdom of Hawaii to be restored. Hawaiians worked to restore the palace, and in 1969 the palace became a public building and cultural symbol.” When the docent announced that the tour was over and the group was welcome to look around and to go to the gift shop, Cassie and Norah thanked her profusely. She smiled at them and bid them farewell.
