by Kirby Michael Wright

The imu loa sent smoke skyward as Cook’s body steamed. Hands once used to grip musket and cutlass belong to me, ali’i Kamehameha. The haole skin has turned purple-black drying in the sun. They were cut from his body and stabbed with bamboo handles from wrists through palms. I swing them to kill flies. My fly swatter hands were gifts from the ali’i ai moku Kalaniʻōpuʻu. Together we ate the captain’s heart to take his mana. The haole tasted bitter. Bitter as ʻawa root. I imagined the heart beating in Cook’s chest as I swallowed his power. My blood felt strong.

The fishermen shape Cook’s bones into hooks. Tomorrow they will bait new hooks with Cook’s flesh to catch shark, eel and ulua in the calm water behind the reef. Will this flesh taste as bitter as his heart?

No flies before Cook arrived. No mosquitos. No colds or nā maʻi. Cook’s men carried diseases from England that brought the sweating fever. The maka’ainana crowded the shore cooling themselves in the shallows before dying. So many bodies, young and old, waves rolling them back and forth over the sand. The women and girls not dead will carry their sorrow into the next world.

Cook was not Lono. He hid his fear behind cannons and muskets. The god ship fled our bay without its god. The flashing eyes will return. We will be ready. Our warriors will kill them the way I swat flies. Then Kalaniʻōpuʻu will sacrifice many bodies to Ku in the heiau.

ali’i: district ruler

ali’i ai moku: king of the island

ʻawa: calming drink made from the ‘awa root consumed before battle

heiau: sacrificial altar

haole: white, Caucasian

imu loa: underground oven

Ku: god of war

Lono: god of the harvest

maka’ainana: commoner

mana: spiritual power

nā maʻi: disease

Kirby Michael Wright was born and raised on the remote island of Moloka'i. His family land served as the breadbasket for Kamehameha's warriors while training for their assault on Oahu.