Night Demon of Ho‘okena

Publisher’s Note: We hope you enjoy this Reader’s favorite, from January 1988, Volume 12, Number 12, written by HFN staff writer and local TV celebrity, the late Mike Sakamoto. Look for more soon!

Overhead, the mass of stars lit the sky; below, the stars were reflected in the white curls of the waves as they rolled onto the beach. The night was cold, and the musty smell of old seaweed filled my head as I walked back and forth carrying gear to the canoe. The sand gave a mournful sigh as the churning waves receded into the black.

“How much more we got?” I inquired as Alika and I passed each other, panting and staggering on the soft sand. He didn’t answer, or perhaps I couldn’t hear his answer over the light rumble of the surf.

I stopped to regain my breath. In the distance, illuminated by the starlight, small, panic-stricken sand crabs skittered along the smooth sand in short, quick spurts. Some scampered up the waterline and burrowed deep into the sand. Others ran into the thin advancing waves and quickly disappeared.

Alika stopped beside me with the 15-horsepower outboard on his massive shoulder. He held it almost casually with his right hand. He was a good 6’2” and had hands that were huge and incredibly strong. He was no one’s fool and was well-read, though he never mentioned his love of books. Tonight he wore no shirt and only a pair of cutoff jeans.

Alika held in his left hand an old paddle of koa. The handle was long and straight, and the blade was rounded and weather-worn. At the tip of the paddle was a small wooden nipple-like projection that Alika called an io, or ‘upe. He never knew what it was for but his grandfather had told him that it was important to the life of the paddle.

“You like that, huh?” he asked, looking at me, a slight shiver moving through his body. “They say that my ancestors used to be able to find their way over the ocean with