![]() ![]() The room grew a little cosier as he spoke. “If you wanted to make music here, your best hope would be to take an upturned, empty coconut shell and tap on it,” Fred jokes, smiling quietly to himself in that wry sort of way that only men in their ninth or tenth decades can really pull off. Whilst such instruments were well known in Europe, they were unheard-of in far-flung Hawaii. He plucked thoughtfully at the strings of a Ukulele whilst he spoke, and the instrument itself seemed to have many more stories to tell.Īmong the early arrivals to the islands were a number of Portuguese farm workers, who brought various traditional instruments with them: violins, mandolins, guitars. In the beginning, they struggled to communicate with one another so music became a sort of common language, Fred explained. Each embarked upon their own fraught journey across the Pacific to this remote group of islands, bringing their languages, habits and local cuisines with them. Chinese workers came, along with many Vietnamese and Filipinos. Our host casts us back to a time before 1900, when Hawaii’s vast cane-fields attracted migrant workers from all around the world. Music – the link between all nations on the Hawaiian paradise islands His eyes gleam with pride through the rims of his spectacles as he recounts his fondest memories and childhood anecdotes. The shop isn’t very big, but then why should it be? The small room offers just a taste of the various shapes and colours of the ukuleles available, and as a stage.įred’s voice trembles slightly as he talks, but at 93 years old this is to be forgiven. Well of course he is wearing a Hawaiian shirt – what else could he wear? The cabinet on which he rests his hands contains his entire family history – carved from wood and carefully strung.įred’s full name is Frederik Kamaka Senior, and he was the second son of Sam Kamaka, who first established the famous Kamaka Ukulele factory back in 1916. ![]() He wears a short-sleeved, light blue shirt decorated with a floral motif, revealing deeply tanned and slender arms. His hands are freckled with liver spots, his hair is a startling white. There is something truly special about the environment, the sun, the relaxed attitude of Honolulu’s locals.Īnd so we are introduced to Fred, who comes in and stands behind the glass cabinet. Or perhaps much older after all, for the island’s unique magic may have somehow preserved her youth. Our interlocutor is a young woman, no older than 25. Inside, the shelving is narrow and tightly-packed “Are you here to see the boss?“, inquires a pleasant voice from behind the high counter. There’s clearly to be no sneaking in here unnoticed. From 2016 until today: Tradition is important at Kamaka UkuleleĪ small bell tinkles as the door shuts. There isn’t much on the outside of the building to hint at the wonders lurking within. We park up and open the door to the factory shop, which makes a somewhat non-descript impression. In this small side-street, leading off from the city’s main thoroughfare, no-one is about. That dense early traffic which clogs Honolulu’s arterial roadways is slowly beginning to disperse. The sun outside is blazing, although it’s barely half past eleven in the morning. Fred once dreamed of a glittering career, of hitting the big time and striking out a path of his own for him and his family.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |