Keoki Carter, Yvonne Yarber Carter, Betty Lau, Kathy Nishida
Big Island of Hawaii
Yvonne Yarber Carter is a dear friend of mine who works as a cultural ecology outreach education coordinator for dryland forests in Hawaii. She believes in the strength of partnerships as it is a core of the work she does for the forest. Their partners range from cultural groups to graduate students and scientists in natural resource management, ecology, and geology. She weaves these partnerships together to ensure restoration and continuity of wahi pana (sacred storied places) that keep alive deep indigenous wisdoms with modern education and science. She has been doing it for twelve years and the work has been transformative. We spoke recently about her work.
June Tanoue: What is your kuleana (responsibility)?
Yvonne Yarber Carter: There is a larger personal kuleana that drives the work we do - kuleana as a commitment and way of living. It's all encompassing, far more than daily tasks or a job title. That kuleana is to try my best to honor and mālama 'āina - to find ways to aloha the land, the waters and all that intersects. And to honor my teachers and mālama (take care of) those who are willing to share that kuleana. I'm blessed to share this journey with "my other half," Keoki Carter. We've been doing this work together in the forest, schools and community for many years now.
JT: Why are you involved?
YYC: For some, there is a point in life, when all things learned seem to fit the work we evolve into and that's true for me - there was a natural progression. Through the years I had a variety of experiences and developed skills that didn't seem connected. But there came a time when they did weave in together to allow the work I do today.
Much credit goes to my father for nurturing a love for the outdoors and a desire to be of service and care for the land. He wanted his children to know the beauty and comfort of the forest - a place with breathing room, where life could be sorted out. That was a gift from my grandmother to him, and on through the family. I can vividly recall him carrying my younger sister on his shoulders as we walked on a trail in the woods.
Also, my teenage years were on the edge of a dryland forest in the Waianae Mountains - the same kind of habitat where I work today. That's where I played and dreamed and came to know a special feeling in the light filtering through the trees. There was familiarity with those plants, not by name, but by the environment and the sounds and the feelings they created. We would walk across the street and be in the forest.
So that's a huge part of it. At the time I had no idea that this would be an ecosystem at risk. Like most young children we just assume the present will always exist. After being away from home for many years, I returned to find it was an endangered ecosystem. Much of the loss has occurred in my lifetime. So many species are at risk, or have disappeared. The statistics are staggering. Less that 10 % of dryland ecosystems remain worldwide. And in Hawai'i, less than 5% is left. And we're told only 10% of that is healthy.
I'm involved because it is vital to our well-being as individuals and as a society to have wild, ancient places that connect us to the land and source of life.
JT: What are trees of light?
YYC: Understanding and knowledge unfolds in layers through time for each of us, through many schools of learning. An important elder and teacher in my life, many years ago provided several ways to perceive trees of light such as iliahi, lama, kukui and others (for example the olive tree in other parts of the world). Among them are the physical properties - trees that were used to make light; and trees that physically reflect light.
For instance, the kukui tree can serve as a landmark, a beacon or a navigating point - because it is so bright in the forest. Anyone who has hiked in the forest in Hawaii can find their way by keeping an eye on a grove of kukui trees as a reference point because they are so bright and white. There is another unseen, energetic or spiritual aspect of light. The way I have internalized it, is that trees of light such as lama, can amplify the light within ourselves, if we are receptive and provide energy in exchange. Joyful hard work is one way.
One of the things we say to groups who come to the forest is, "disconnect to reconnect." And what we are talking about is turning off the noise, our electronics and our worries. We leave that outside of the forest and come in to work with aloha and sweat. So for me, trees of light provide a conduit to be connected and grounded to 'āina, place, and each other.
The work at Ka'upulehu began long before I joined the grassroots Dryland Forest Working Group in 2000. It was a small collective that decided to just start doing something, working under the radar to care for the vanishing forest by pulling one non-native weed at a time. There was no money then, and very little public awareness. Well here it is 12 years later, and there is still very little funding. However, the people power and volunteer work hours given by partners of many ages and walks of life have been transformative. There is life and aloha in the dryland forest with rare native plants budding up out of the lava.
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If you want to learn more about Hawaii dryland forests go to these excellent websites: www.drylandforest.org or the Hawaii Forest Industries Association website.
