Strong spirited Islanders strive for freedom in the “land of the free”

Story and photos by HANNAH CHRISTENSEN

Pacific Islanders who leave their homes and villages in search of a better life in Utah often experience culture shock and feel “stuck,” with no idea of what to do next.

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Martha and Mike Meredith at their home in Millcreek, Utah.

Mike and Martha Meredith are Pacific Islanders who have overcome many social barriers in order to be living comfortably in Millcreek, Utah. Martha vividly remembers her father cutting down and cracking coconuts in Tonga and then watching her mother clean them out. Martha was 10 when her family left Tonga and moved to New Zealand.

That’s where she met Mike. Mike was born in American Samoa but grew up in European Samoa until his family moved to New Zealand when he was 13. Martha recalled, “My family went through several migrations, first among the islands, then in New Zealand, and finally to America. My sister came first, then my parents. Mike and I were married and we had two little children and a third on the way when we came. We had no idea what on earth we were getting into.”

These migrations seemed so natural for their families, Martha explained, but when they got to America and it was so vastly different, they felt isolated and trapped. They weren’t sure how to assimilate while remaining true to their cultural practices.

Matapuna Levenson, a lead advocate at the Salt Lake Area Family Justice Center, said, “Culture is living. It is not stagnant. We don’t stay the same. Pacific Islanders are navigators. We were the greatest ocean navigators in the world. We are explorers. So the idea of just staying the same, staying in one place, staying in one mindset, is so contradictory to the values that our culture is perpetuating and encouraging, what our ancestors were hoping for us.”

And now that these navigators are here, pursuing the American dream, what can they do? Where can they turn for help?

Jake Fitisemanu Jr., a clinical manager with Health Clinics of Utah, Utah Department of Health, said it is difficult for Pacific Islanders to navigate a social system that has completely different values because they aren’t sure how to do their part. In a village, everyone has their role and every role contributes to the overall wellness of the village.

According to the Utah Department of Health, “the overall proportion of NHPIs (Native Hawaiian Pacific Islanders) in Salt Lake City is greater than [in] any other city in the continental U.S.” One would assume that having a larger population would mean people have a community, a place to go, individuals who want to help. But what happens when those who came before you still feel adrift and disillusioned?

Fitisemanu wants to empower people who feel misplaced or lost. “I’m interested in mobilizing communities for political power, because this is the United States, that’s how it works here.” Fitisemanu sees the bigger picture after working for the government in the health department and as a city councilman for West Valley City. If the goal is getting Pacific Islanders to feel comfortable utilizing resources, then including them in the governing structure is one good way to do that.

Mike Meredith is another advocate for Pacific Islanders. He served on an advisory board for the Pacific Island community in Utah that focused on ways to improve education and resources for their communities. Because of his service on the board, Mike knows the issues that make it difficult for Pacific Islanders to start looking for resources, even if they are available.

“Especially in Utah, there’s a vast window that is open for them,” Mike said. “But one of the fears is picking up the phone, calling and setting up an appointment or approaching where there is help and seeking that. But it’s not really fear, it’s just something that’s in them, because they’ve lived in villages. You can go from home to the beach and throw in a fishing rod. Where here it’s wide open. They don’t know where to go or who to talk to.”

While it is true that the Pacific Islander population creates a place for tribal identification and emotional resources, Mike said there is confusion about how the American educational system applies. “The old tradition comes into this country and it’s difficult. Folks come in and think ‘you should have your kids finish school and then send them to work.’ That’s what we did back home. But that’s not the case that’s required here. To grow and progress you need education.”

Mike added that Pacific Islander parents lack the understanding of the benefits of graduating from college and entering the professional workforce. The family culture creates alternatives to college graduation and training required for high-level jobs, resulting in economic instability. The impact on families without sufficient financial stability affects all aspects of life — housing, medical care, food security — not to mention future school and work opportunities.

The Merediths are an exception because Mike was able to graduate with a degree in engineering and have a prosperous career. But he says this ethos was not easy to pass along even to his own children. And it is much more difficult for parents who feel at sea here in the high desert of Utah. Yet he still believes that Pacific Islanders can have it both ways — in his case American prosperity, along with a strong commitment to the values, mythologies, rituals and symbols at the heart of his Samoan-Maori culture and Martha’s Tongan culture.

Activists like the Merediths, Levenson, and Fitisemanu lead the way by empowering and educating Pacific Islanders. Fitisemanu said it is important to continue tradition while also moving forward. “We’re walking into the future backwards,” he said. “That’s how Polynesians see time. This is how we stay connected. Even though we’re moving in distance and in time into the future, we’re always facing the past.” Maintaining this connectedness while moving forward propels Pacific Islanders toward their dreams.

Levenson Quote

A quote from Matapuna Levenson, lead advocate at the Salt Lake Area Family & Justice Center.

The University of Utah’s Pacific Islander Student Association

Story and photos by GEORGE W. KOUNALIS

In Tongan culture, fala mats have been a part of the kingdom’s traditions for much of its history. The fala design is created by weaving and hammering strips of trees, which creates a very strong material. The strength of this material represents the strength of the community. The University of Utah’s Pacific Islander Student Association is a strong example of fala.

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A University of Utah shirt containing the fala weave pattern. Photo by George Kounalis.

“We love our students, we’re proud of them, ” Tevita “Ti” Kinikini said. As the adviser of the U’s Pacific Islander Student Association (PISA), he has many reasons to be proud. The walls of his office are covered in art done by PISA alumni. His office door is covered with newspaper articles about many of the students who went through the organization. “This door represents a lot of our community on this campus,” Kinikini said.

“I came to the University of Utah in 2007,” Kinikini said. “I was a high school counselor and teacher in the Salt Lake School District.” He left that position to help out the Pacific Islander community at the university. Kinikini is an academic adviser with the first-year program and family support coordinator at the Office for Equity and Diversity as well as the adviser for the Pacific Islander Student Association.

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Tevita Kinikini is an academic adviser with the first-year program and family support coordinator at the Office for Equity and Diversity. He also serves as the adviser for PISA. Image courtesy of Kinikini.

PISA offers resources to many Pacific Islander students at the U. The program consists of many first-generation students who are studying music, fine arts, health sciences, social sciences, among other programs. PISA gives them a way to network on as well as off campus. “You can adjust the sails, but not the wind,” Kinikini said.

PISA allows a space to voice cultural advancement as well as improve academic achievement. “It’s been a long-standing club on campus,” said Hannah Makasini, a sophomore attending the University of Utah and member of PISA.

“In the past, we’ve done lots of activities, lots of student involvement, a lot of our students are involved with other things such as being orientation leaders,” Makasini said. “We like to think of our group as a welcome home for anybody, not just Pacific Islanders, but anybody who needs a friend to guide them through college.”

Grace Finau, a freshman attending the University of Utah and member of PISA, said, “In a sense, I feel like our club with our students, there’s a lot of groundbreaking going on. A lot of students venturing into areas that Polynesians aren’t necessarily involved in.” Many of these areas include being involved with Greek Life, New Student Orientation and the Center for Ethnic Student Affairs.

“Our club is very adamant and venturing out and doing groundbreaking stuff, we take our identity and our culture very seriously,” Finau said. “Our culture is very family and values-based.” She said the club doesn’t want to push people away from these values, but rather show that these values can be used to expand horizons.

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Grace Finau (left) and Hannah Makasini. Photo by George Kounalis.

Kinikini said these resources allow the school and community to connect and grow. “Our students are active in a lot of different areas,” he said of the students involved with PISA.

The group co-hosted a conference for high schoolers with Salt Lake Community College’s Pacific Islander Student Association in March 2018. “That’s our biggest event, probably, on a year-long schedule,” Makasini said.

High schools in six different districts will send their Polynesian students to the conference at SLCC. “We have a lot of hardworking individuals in our group that have worked hard to get to where we’re at,” Makasini said about organizing the event.

The event provides high school students with several workshops. They can learn about college, adversities these students may face, and different ways they can get financial or admissions information for college.

“We want them to realize that higher-ed is doable and important,” Makasini said. “There’s this stigma that college is too expensive and it feels like the only way in is through sports.” The conference seeks to strike that stigma and show Polynesian high school students that there are other ways to get into college that don’t have to be through sports.

“Our conference is really resource based,” Finau said. “We have a lot of successful Pacific Islanders and people of other races that come and show these kids what you can do, and here’s how you do it.” Finau said this year’s theme for the high school conference is, “I can and will create my own tide.”

In addition to the high school conference, PISA does many other activities. “We do food drives, clothing drives, and we even have students involved through the Bennion Center that volunteer on their own,” Makasini said. Even now, PISA is jumping into action.

The Kingdom of Tonga was hit by Cyclone Gita in February 2018. The cyclone devastated the country and PISA is helping with relief efforts. This is currently one of PISA’s biggest projects.

“We’re in the gathering stages of humanitarian supplies and school supplies,” Kinikini said. “We are hoping to send out a crate here within the next three weeks of school supplies, hygiene products, household wares and gardening tools.”

He added, “They’re in the cleaning and rebuilding stage right now. This is what our club does.” PISA’s quick efforts to help the Kingdom of Tonga show that the fala of this community expands beyond just the University of Utah and its surrounding community. “No one cares how much you know, unless someone knows you care,” Kinikini said.

One does not have to be a Pacific Islander to join PISA. All University of Utah students are welcome. The organization hosts Power Talks two to three times a month. The group is also active on Facebook and Twitter.

For those interested in getting involved with the group or wishing to help PISA with their collection for Tonga, Tevita Kinikini can be reached at the Center for Ethnic Student Affairs in Suite 235 in the University of Utah’s A. Ray Olpin University Union Building.

Utah restaurants provide traditional Hawaiian food

Story and photos by SHAELYN BARBER

The traditional Hawaiian plate lunch is a rich fusion of foods from many countries. When Hawaii’s pineapple and sugarcane industry began people came from all over the world to work on the farms, and they brought a variety of cultural foods with them. When workers took their lunch break they shared their food with each other, and the Hawaiian plate was born.

Keni Aikau, the owner of The Hungry Hawaiian, and Masa Tukuafu, the owner of Moki’s Hawaiian Grill, are two men who brought this tradition to Utah with their restaurants.

The Hungry Hawaiian

 

The Hungry Hawaiian is a hidden gem. Tucked away in an unassuming strip mall at 1492 S. 800 West in Woods Cross, the tiny restaurant packs a punch with its full-flavored meat plate.

“For us, food is the other emotion, you know? You’ve got happy, sad, food,” Aikau says.
He was born in Hawaii and raised in Utah, and his childhood was filled with food.

“At a very young age we started learning and we just cooked. Everything we did was based around food,” Aikau says. He began learning at family luaus and celebrations. The young children in the family would carry out simple tasks, and as they got older they became more involved in the process of making food.

In 1978, Aikau’s father opened the original Hungry Hawaiian restaurant in Provo, Utah. It didn’t last long. Despite the popularity of the restaurant, it ran into financial difficulty and was forced to go out of business. He was never able to re-open his beloved restaurant.

But Aikau’s love for food led him to pursue a culinary education at Western Culinary Institute, now called Le Cordon Bleu, in Portland, Oregon. He brought his traditional food with him.

“You can’t tell me that Spam isn’t a meat!” Aikau exclaimed. Spam, though popular in Hawaiian cuisine, comes with a negative stigma on the mainland. His colleagues at Western Culinary Institute scoffed at the canned meat. That is, until Aikau gave his classmate a Spam and egg sandwich for breakfast. He ate the whole thing, and part of Aikau’s as well.

After his father’s death in 2010, Aikau returned to carry out his father’s dream himself. He modified his father’s original recipes and on June 23, 2017, the restaurant opened once again — this time in Woods Cross, north of Salt Lake City.

His goal was to keep the menu as simple as possible. Each plate comes with two scoops of white rice, a scoop of macaroni salad, and a choice of beef, chicken or pork.

“We just keep hearing how good it is from everyone around us,” Michelle Benedict says. She was drawn to the restaurant for the first time after hearing about the food from her neighbors.

“I just adore Hawaiian food,” Kristin Yee says with a laugh. “I know it’s rich so I have to be careful how much I come.” She has been a regular at the restaurant since its beginning. She was initially interested when she noticed Aikau’s children on the corner holding signs during the first week they were open.

Yee loves local food places but says, “It’s not just support, it’s really good. So, you’re getting the benefit too.”

Moki’s Hawaiian Grill

 

From the minute you step into Moki’s Hawaiian Grill, the warm smell of Hawaiian barbeque greets your nose. Mellow ukulele music hovers underneath the friendly chatter of customers, and the staff greet you with a smile from behind the counter.

“Food is what brings people together,” Masa Tukuafu says. He started Moki’s in 2002 and now owns two restaurants: one in Mesa, Arizona, and one located at 4836 S. Redwood Road in Taylorsville.

“In the beginning I just wanted to burn the place down,” Tukuafu says. “And, as time goes, you figure things out. So, you learn from your trials and you just keep going at it.”
Despite his trials, Tukuafu says the biggest benefit of owning Moki’s Hawaiian Grill is being able to provide for his children and his family.

“Being a first-generation here and struggling all the way through school and graduating from the University [of Utah], it was a challenge, and I didn’t want my kids to do that,” Tukuafu says.

Tukuafu is half Tongan and half Samoan. Traditional Polynesian food is costly to make, so he chose to run a Hawaiian restaurant instead. The ingredients for that cuisine are much easier and cheaper to find, and far more accessible than those required for Polynesian food.

“We wanted to provide something that was more for the majority instead of the minority,” Tukuafu says. He places an emphasis on health at his restaurant, altering traditional cooking methods to reduce fat and grease by using an open broiler for the restaurant’s meat.

“I heard about Moki’s because they’re one of the only places that sells musubi and I love musubi,” says customer Faitele Afamasaga. Spam musubi consists of a hunk of grilled spam and a block of rice wrapped in seaweed.

Afamasaga is a frequent visitor and usually comes for a cone of Moki’s ever-popular Dole whip ice cream.

“We like the cultural food from Hawai’i,” says Jennifer Selvidge, a first-time customer with her husband. She drives past Moki’s almost every day for work and wanted to try it.
“Everyone that’s had Moki’s or the style seemed to enjoy it and go back,” Selvidge says.

The bottom line: preserving Pacific cultures through language conservation

By ALLISON OLIGSCHLAEGER

Of Utah’s 38,000 Native Hawaiians and Pacific Islanders, 44 percent report speaking a language other than English at home. The figures are even higher in Polynesian families, with 45 percent of Utah Samoans and 68 percent of Utah Tongans reporting use of at least two household languages.

But according to Marianna Di Paolo, a professor of sociolinguistics and anthropology at the University of Utah, most immigrant families will lose their language of national origin within three generations. Although little research has been done on language attrition in Pacific Islanders — Di Paolo and her colleague Adrian Bell are some of the first to research Tongan language use in American immigrant communities — the standard seems to hold as true for Polynesian languages as it does for more researched languages like Spanish and Italian.

“The norm is loss in three generations,” Di Paolo said in a phone interview. “It doesn’t mean it has to be that way, but that’s the norm.”

Marianna Di Paolo

Anthropologist Marianna Di Paolo is one of the first researchers to study Tongan language use in the U.S.

Di Paolo explained that language loss frequently occurs as a byproduct of assimilation. First-generation immigrants, who arrive in the United States with varying levels of English proficiency, tend to use their language of national origin in the home, so children born to immigrants often learn their ancestral languages before or alongside English. However, most bilingual children go on to attend primarily English-speaking schools full of primarily English-speaking students.

“The children start using English primarily with their peers, so who are they going to marry? People who are also using English with their peers,” Di Paolo said. “English will become the household language of the second generation, the generation that is born and raised here.”

This means that third-generation Pacific Islanders born into English-speaking households are far less likely to speak and understand their ancestral languages than their older family members.

“If English becomes the language of the home, it is very likely that the grandchildren of immigrants will shift completely to English, or only use Samoan when talking with a grandparent, or understand Samoan but not speak it,” Di Paolo said. “In three generations, you have moved from a nearly-monolingual Samoan-speaking family to a nearly-monolingual English-speaking family.”

Marianna Di Paolo

Much of Di Paolo’s research focuses on recording and revitalizing immigrant and indigenous languages.

Heritage languages are lost even more quickly when first-generation parents use English in the home or choose not to teach their children their ancestral languages. Sisi Muti, who teaches Tongan language at Pacific Heritage Academy in Salt Lake City, said she sees this frequently in her students’ families.

“They moved to America to learn English, not to perpetuate Tongan,” Muti said in a telephone conversation. “That’s why they’re here — they want their kids to learn English well.”

But Muti believes that learning a heritage language can be a valuable experience for Polynesian children, grounding them in their culture of origin and giving them a sense of identity.

“Losing the language is the beginning of losing a culture,” she said. “Even here in America, it is important that they know their identity and know who they are.”

Muti said educating immigrant parents on the link between language and identity development is critical to preserving Polynesian languages in Utah’s Pacific Islander communities.

Di Paolo agreed, noting a long-standing history of misinformation about the harms and benefits of learning two languages as a child.

“Educators have misinformed parents about bilingualism, saying that learning two languages in early childhood actually harms children. It absolutely does not,” Di Paolo said. “It improves a positive sense of identity and it improves cognitive development.”

Di Paolo said families who continue to use their language of national origin in the home stand a much better chance of retaining their language beyond the three-generation average, but may still face other challenges.

“That supports it in the home, but it isn’t probably, in the long run, the only support that the language will need,” she said. “It is incumbent on some other part of society to create some other situation where language can be used.”

These “other situations” are known as domains: sociocultural settings in which languages can be used. Along with home and school, possible domains include work, church and government settings. In a viable domain, the use of any given language is not suppressed; in an optimal domain, it is facilitated and encouraged.

“Keeping the heritage language alive means that there have to be places for people to use the language and have pride as they’re using the language,” Di Paolo said. “The more domains that are possible for the language to be used, the more likely it is that Samoan will persist.”

While not immigrants, the indigenous Polynesians of New Zealand have seen great success in revitalizing their ancestral language, Te Reo Maori, in part due to its recent reintroduction into school and government settings throughout that country. Curleen Pfeiffer, a Utah educator and member of the Navajo Nation, believes the Maori people’s techniques for language preservation may have transpacific significance here in Utah.

To date, Pfeiffer has led four groups of Native Utahns across the ocean to study language preservation in New Zealand. The trips started as general cultural exchanges, but took on a new focus after Pfeiffer was touched by the value the Maori place on their language.

“The importance of language started really hitting me, and I turned my purposes totally around to language specifically,” Pfeiffer said in an interview at the American Indian Resource Center. “I really wanted to help the tribes of Utah see and understand for themselves how language is vitally important for our culture to remain alive.”

Pfeiffer brings Native students, educators and tribal leaders to New Zealand to study Te Ataarangi, a Maori teaching method that claims to have helped more than 50,000 people learn Te Reo. Pfeiffer has adapted Te Ataarangi to teach Dine, the Navajo language, and hopes to emulate the Maoris’ success in her own linguistic community.

Pfeiffer also hopes the students who visit New Zealand with her will understand the cultural significance of their own languages and be inspired to advocate for their preservation.

“Language is the bottom line,” Pfeiffer said. “Just like reading is the bottom line for education, language is the bottom line for culture. And if we want to keep our culture, we’ve got to do something. We can’t just sit back and let it fade away.”

The consequences of COFA for Utah’s Micronesians

Story and photos by MARISSA SITTLER

Sitting in a third-grade classroom, surrounded by miniature sized chairs, bright colors and other seemingly “elementary” things can make what is outside of those four walls seem inconsequential. Yet, the words that Melsihna Folau speaks about the Compact of Free Association, or COFA, inside the classroom are quite the opposite.

Folau is a third-grade teacher at the Pacific Heritage Academy charter school in Salt Lake City. She is one of some 2,300 Micronesians living in Utah, as reported by the U.S. Census Bureau in 2016. She is Micronesian, born in Pohnpei, but has lived in Utah since 1989 and is married to a U.S. citizen. Folau chose not to become a U.S. citizen, despite being married to one. She says being able to have that connection to her roots holds a sentimental feeling for her. 

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Melsihna Folau continues to work as a third-grade teacher at Pacific Heritage Academy in addition to passionately fighting for Micronesians’ rights.

COFA was signed in 1982 between the Federated States of Micronesia (FSM) and the United States to “provide for U.S. economic assistance (including eligibility for certain U.S. federal programs), defense of the FSM, and other benefits in exchange for U.S. defense and certain other operating rights in the FSM, denial of access to FSM territory by other nations, and other agreements,” according to USCompact.org.

Under the COFA federal law, Micronesians in Utah are not U.S. citizens. This means that they do not hold a permanent ID. They must renew their driver licenses every year, which is a time- consuming process. In a situation like Folau’s, she must take a few hours off from her teaching to wait in line at the DMV for license renewal.

In some cases, she says it can take months for licenses to arrive. For families who do not have relatives already settled in the United States, that waiting period can be harmful to their financial well-being. Folau says, “Anytime you’re new, you know you have to put food on the table, you have to work and with the little money you have, six months of waiting. People don’t understand that six months of waiting, it’s a detrimental thing for a family that is just new.”

 It was not until 2010 that she became aware of the limitations that Micronesians have in Utah. Folau went to renew her driver license at the Utah Division of Motor Vehicles and started getting questioned when an agent told her that she was part of COFA. She was equipped with all the right documentation, but was given a hard time. The DMV agent said, “It’s part of September 11,” and “We need to protect our borders,” referring to the REAL ID Act of 2005. This instance is what sparked Folau’s research into the COFA bill. She heard rumors about the mistreatment of Micronesians in Utah, but did not think much of the gossip at the time. “Stories will be stories until you experience that,” she thought.

The REAL ID Act of 2005 changed everything for Micronesians in Utah. Folau says, “Most of us have been here in the United States for ages, you know, lived, schooled, worked, law-abiding citizens.” The REAL ID Act clumped Micronesians, being under the protection of the United States, as non-citizens who have indefinite stay. “We’re not illegals, we are treated like one. It’s just frustrating for somebody that’s lived here freely all these years,” Folau says about the injustices that COFA has created for Micronesians in Utah.

On Micronesian driver licenses, the word “limited” appears. This draws questioning from state and federal entities. “Banks question you. Any agency that hires you questions you and any cop that catches you wherever you are, questions you,” Folau says. A non-permanent ID can make it difficult for Micronesians to rent or buy a house. “Some people are OK with what we call ‘sardine,’” where families live in very close quarters, but she adds that it can only take a couple years for there to be friction and meltdowns within a household. A recurring question that Folau has is, “Why are these things happening when it’s not necessary?”

Bryan Boaz, who is part of the Marshallese community in Utah, noted in an email interview that COFA negatively impacts Micronesians in more ways than housing alone. Boaz wrote that it affects the Marshallese people in Utah “in employment, school, doctor and all the state and government assistance because of our status.”

Folau and other Micronesians have taken it upon themselves to try to correct the injustices of COFA by working on putting together a bill that is modeled after one that successfully passed in Oregon. Jake Fitisemanu Jr., councilmember for District 4 in West Valley City, Utah, says that their main goals are: 1) to redefine COFA citizens, 2) to obtain permanent state licenses for Micronesians and 3) to extend Medicaid, although he notes that their third goal may be less likely.

Jake Fitisemanu Jr. after speaking to University of Utah students about the Pacific Islander community.

In addition, Folau also wants the bill to recognize the differences of the Micronesian people, which she adds will require a lot of public education. She says, “Yeah, we’re Micronesians, but we’re not one group. We don’t speak each other’s languages. Even here in Utah with a very highly educated population, people are still calling me Polynesian.”

Folau and the others who are trying to re-work the COFA bill have not been able to find someone in Utah’s senate to sponsor it. With support from community resource groups including Pacific Island Knowledge 2 Action Resources, the Utah Pacific Islander Civic Engagement Coalition, and the American Civil Liberties Union of Utah, and advice from the Oregon group of COFA Alliance National Network, they have encountered great empathy and help. Despite this, Folau says, “We are just not moving forward at this time.”

Their next steps entail resilience and perseverance. Folau says the Micronesian group will keep “being patient and going from there. We’re not going to give up, it’s been eight years, so we’ll keep going until somebody sees this is really an injustice.”

Diabetes is a health risk with Pacific Islanders in Utah

Story and photo by JANICE ARCALAS

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Jake Fitisemanu Jr., chair of the Utah Pacific Islander Health Coalition.

Type 2 diabetes is a health risk among Pacific Islanders in Utah. According to a Pacific Islander report done in 2011 by the Utah Department of Health,  the rate of Utah Pacific Islanders is at 13.7 percent. This is nearly double the statewide rate in Utah, which is at 6.5 percent.“The biggest risk factor for diabetes is being overweight or obesity which is a huge problem in Pacific Islanders,” said Dr. Kalani Raphael, a University of Utah associate professor of internal medicine, in an email interview. “Of course obesity is related to poor diet quality and low physical activity, so these factors contribute.”

According to the 2011 report, 63.6 percent of Pacific Islanders in Utah were considered obese. Researchers  defined obesity to be a body mass index of over 30. Poor diet and sedentary lifestyle are the main factors that contribute to Pacific Islanders getting diabetes, said Jake Fitisemanu Jr., chair of the Utah Pacific Islander Health Coalition, in an email interview.

Rice is a common food that is in a Pacific Islander’s diet. Rice has lots of carbohydrates, which can spike blood sugars. “Rice is a huge one and is an unfortunate staple of the diet,” Raphael said. “Potato or macaroni ‘salad’ is another one and lots of processed foods.  I also suspect that there is a low proportion of fruits and vegetables.”

Many Pacific Islanders think that since their family members have diabetes there is nothing they can do about it. “My experience is that it is one of the toughest things to deal with. There is a lot of fatalism meaning that a lot of Pacific Islanders think that since their family members had diabetes that there is nothing they can do about it when there is a lot that can be done to lower their risk,” Raphael said. “Same thing for the complications like kidney failure. I hear a lot of people say that they don’t think they can prevent kidney failure because their family had it.”

One complication with Pacific Islanders who have diabetes is language barriers. According to the report, those interviewed in English had lower obesity rates than those interviewed in Tongan and Samoan. The Utah Department of Health also found that those interviewed in English were more likely to perceive themselves as overweight compared to Samoan and Tongan speakers. “Language barriers for providers that don’t speak the language or have access to an interpreter are an issue. Also providers who don’t understand the culture make it challenging,” Raphael said.

A traditional Polynesian diet wasn’t always like this. “The traditional Polynesian diet was plant-based, varied, and very healthy. This was a protective factor that was further strengthened by the very active lifestyle the ancestors lived. Fast forward to today, that healthy lifestyle and wholesome diet has been replaced by modern sedentary lifestyles and sugary diets that increase the likelihood of developing diabetes.” Fitisemanu said.

Resources are available to Pacific Islanders in Utah who have diabetes. “The Utah Department of Health’s Office of Health Disparities developed a brief video in English, Samoan, and Tongan languages that mention some overall health tips that can help prevent diabetes and promote overall wellness,” Fitisemanu said. “There is also a diabetes pamphlet in Samoan that the UDOH Diabetes program has published. Local health providers from our Pacific communities are also good resources, including Dr. Kalani Raphael, Dr. Liana Kinikini, Dr. Kawehi Au, Uaisele Panisi, [and] Karen Mulitalo.”

Raphael mentioned community resources such as the National Tongan-American Society, which assists with diagnosing diabetes and counseling. It is located at 3007 S. West Temple, Bldg. H, in Salt Lake City. Another resource is the American Diabetes Association of Utah, located at 986 W. Atherton Drive, Suite 220, in Taylorsville.

The report of the health needs of Pacific Islanders advises limiting sugary drinks to help control obesity, which is a factor that causes diabetes.

“Our communities need to be aware of the risk factors and symptoms of diabetes so that they can try to reduce their risks and be able to identify diabetes early on, before serious complications occur,” Fitisemanu said. “Our families, social groups, and churches need to take more proactive roles in encouraging healthy living while providing support for those who seek treatment, and acknowledge and incentivize those who comply with treatment and make improvements. Apathy and normalization are the two worst enemies in this fight against diabetes. Because it’s so prevalent in some families and communities, it can become normalized and ‘accepted’ as an inevitable fact of life, and that notion is not only false but also incredibly dangerous to us as a community.”

Diabetes can be overwhelming but there is hope. “Diabetes is a complicated disease that requires a lot of self-care, but the motivated and informed patient can be successful,” Raphael said.

Tribal tattoos are more than just a fad

Fred

Fred Frost, owner of Frost City Tattoo. Photo by Diego Romo

Story and photos by DIEGO ROMO

The first thing you notice when walking into Frost City Tattoo is an overwhelming sense of community and inclusiveness. It’s as if the shop were a working and living metaphor for the values that most, if not all, Pacific Islanders stand for: community and tradition.

A warm “hello” greets you as you push open the door, quickly followed by a “make yourself at home” and inviting conversation.

But as you walk around and begin to explore the shop, the work of the artists grabs your attention. The walls are filled with pictures of the beautiful motifs that have ornamented the bodies of generations and generations of Pacific Islanders, which entices your focus and sustains it. The tradition is deep and diverse. The art is unique and beautiful.

Anthropologists agree that the tradition of tattooing has existed in Pacific Islander society for over two millennia. Almost all of the island societies scattered across the Pacific have some form of tattoo culture that permeates their community and helps indicate their place in it.

Although experts disagree on the geographical origin of tattooing — there is evidence of tattoos on the preserved skin of Egyptian mummies and countless other ancient cultures — historians can agree that the linguistic history of the word derives from the Samoan word tatau, which means “to strike.”

Called “kakau” in Hawaiian culture and “moko,” the traditional name for the face tattoos of the Maori in New Zealand, the art has always played an integral role in Pacific Islander society.

“Tattooing is as fundamental to Pacific Islander culture as anything else,” said Fred Frost, owner of Frost City Tattoo, which is located at 7045 State St. in Midvale.

Frost, who has been tattooing for 20 years, never saw the craft as a potential career choice. He got into the art by giving tattoos to friends as party favors when he was a young man living in California.

By the time he was 16, Frost gained an apprenticeship with a shop in California and had begun to discover his passion, which in turn helped him to learn more about himself.

“I actually learned how to speak Samoan through tattooing,” Frost said.

Frost jumped into research and began practicing the ancient motifs that are prevalent in Pacific Island tattooing, becoming a master in the process.

The traditional style of tribal tattoo varies from island to island, but the most common themes seen in the tattoos are strength and the representation of the environment in which they lived.

Many agree that the repeated use of triangles, which are representative of shark teeth, generally symbolizes strength and protection. Another very common pattern seen is the spiral-esque design meant to represent waves.

Because the early societies of the Pacific Islands had no written language, they used tattoos as a means of communication between members of the society.

According to Kealalokahi Losch, an expert in Pacific Islander culture, agrees that tattoos were a way of preserving history and culture, as well as a means of broadcasting one’s individuality.

“For Polynesian people it’s kind of our identity. It’s our thing,” said Lala Ellsworth, a tattoo artist working at Frost City Tattoo.

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Lala Ellsworth, a tattoo artist at Frost City Tattoo. Photo by Diego Romo

Historically, tattoos contained symbolism that related to the matriarchal and patriarchal lines of the family. They displayed successful hunts and the spoils of war. They also denoted what standing in the society one had, be it king or warrior, and even the origins of their ancestor.

Frost credits these characteristics for his passion and interest in the style. He really liked the fact that he was “able to tell a story using our language.”

Tattoos also played a very personal role in the sense that they shared the story of the bearer to the world. But they were never about the individual, as is the case with most Pacific Islander culture and practices.

“There’s no individual. That doesn’t exist in our style,” Frost said. “You’re all about the family, the clan, and community in a way that makes you whole.”

Historians state that as European cultures began to make contact with the Pacific Island communities, the practices and techniques of Polynesian tattooing began to spread and influence styles all over the world.

“All islanders have always gifted tattoos to foreigners,” Frost added.

And despite many efforts by zealous religious missionaries to curb the practice, it’s still thriving two thousand years later

Frost said that there is a large and growing market of Pacific Islanders who wish to continue the tradition of receiving the tattoos as part of their cultural identity — those who truly understand the deep meaning of the symbolism and the history of the art.

But you do not have to be of Pacific Island descent to appreciate and understand their style of tattooing.

“There’s a lot of non-Polynesians getting Polynesian stuff,” Frost said.

He added that this is a factor in what’s keeping the art alive. The symbols and their meanings are universal. They tell the story of all humans, just through the lens of the Pacific Islander experience.

“The meaning behind it is relatable to anyone in the world,” Frost added. “It’s just done in our style.”

Zay Dela Pena, who has tattooed at Frost City Tatau for three years, was born in Hawaii and grew up in a very religious family. The traditional, Polynesian style tattoos that were inspired by his culture and his spirituality by interweaving symbolism and meaning between the two identities.

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Zay Dela Pena tattooing a client at Frost City Tattoo. Photo by Diego Romo

“I had to figure out a way to connect the cultural symbols to spiritual symbols,” he said.

Dela Pena, like many others, was able to see the universal qualities in the symbols and add his own experience and identity to the tattoo, deepening its meaning.

Although the art-form has remained highly unchanged over its two thousand year existence, artists are now beginning to blend styles and create pastiches that contain the influence of many different works and cultures.

“What’s happening now is you’re seeing an evolution,” Fred Frost said. “Because artists are becoming diverse.”

Younger artists like Jroo Winquist are influenced by the tattoos of their older relatives and peers, but are continuing the Pacific Islander tattooing legacy through exploring different and newer styles.

“I love the look of tribal,” Winquist said. “It’s aesthetically so pleasing.”

But Winquist stated his favorite style of tattoo to work on is contemporary, modern and even surrealistic. Still the art is influenced in some way by the traditional Pacific Islander style.

Fred Frost said the traditional style of Polynesian tattooing will not be going away any time soon.

“It has stood the test of time until now, so I’m sure it will last,” he said.

As the buzz of the tattoo guns begins to fade, the conversation builds at Frost City Tatau in Midvale. Those who have just finished receiving their new ink don’t just pay and leave — they stay and talk for a while. Because before anything else, community and family come first in the Pacific Islander tradition.

Pacific Islanders coalesce to preserve their culture

Story and photos by WOO SANG KIM

The Sixth Utah Pacific Island Heritage Month — an annual celebration held to increase the profile of the Pacific Islander communities and raise awareness of the different Pacific Islands — will be held July 28, 2018, from 6-11 p.m. at Sorenson Multicultural Center & Unity Fitness Center at 855 W. California Ave. in Salt Lake City.

Susie Feltch-Malohifo’ou, executive director of Pacific Island Knowledge 2 Action Resources, proposed the observance in 2013 and Gov. Gary J. Herbert declared August as Utah Pacific Island Heritage Month.

Will Unga, career adviser at Salt Lake Community College, has assisted with hosting the annual celebration at the Sorenson center. “The event is like Hawaii. We offer different types of foods and teas. Some people love it. Some people find it interesting. Some of the dishes are lu sipi, palusami, ika, taro and cape. We also have dances like haka, mari, sipi tau and siva tau and arts like tattoos, drawings, ta moko and tatau,” he said.

“We prepare yearlong, working to offer tables for vendors or to let them perform. We want to get to a level of having an application process to elevate the level of quality,” Unga added.

He said the event is extremely short-staffed. Volunteers’ time is limited. More money is needed to hire an overseer. Yet, Feltch-Malohifo’ou’s drive and determination have helped the event to expand exponentially each year.

“The first celebration was a test, the second was going somewhere and the third was phenomenal. The first gathered about 100 people, mostly the families and friends of the event associates. The second had 300 people and the fourth had 600 people,” Unga said.

Micronesia Cultural Booth participated as a vendor at the past celebration. Melsihna Folau, a third-grade teacher at Pacific Heritage Academy who volunteered for the booth, said, “We aim to raise awareness of the current problems of the Micronesian region and educate people about the culture of Caroline Islands, Mariana Islands, Marshall Islands and Kiribati Islands.”

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Folau helped in hosting the Micronesia Cultural Booth.

Folau said the staff offered food and clothing as samples. Pilolo, tapioca mixed with banana and coconuts, and kemalis, rice mixed with coconuts, are given. The staff also answered questions about the Micronesian region. Most inquired about global warming and what the inhabitants are doing to slow the heating, Folau said.

“It took us six months to prepare. We had to get approved from the Marshallese government, connect to friends in Kiribati Islands, write to tourism management companies and talk to visitors from Guam. Getting the approval was the hard part,” Folau said.

The vendor also increased in size and had to divide. “The Marshallese wanted to have their own things, so they separated last year. They were excited to show their crafts and share things that they were shy about before,” Folau said.

“We are all part of the one history with different perspectives. I was excited to learn from experiences and network with people. I am just happy that I have been a part since the beginning,” Folau said.

The Queen Center, a Pacific Islander nonprofit promoting healthier lifestyles by providing cultural resources, tobacco prevention and advocacy and education, also has participated in the heritage celebration. Tufui Taukeiaho, a health sciences instructor at Granite Technical Institute who served as a committee member to the nonprofit, said, “We helped out by starting a 5K run.”

Taukeiaho said the Queen Center has hosted the run since the first celebration. The 5K started with 80-100 runners but the number surged each year. The funding from the run was given to two families. The husband of one family had a kidney failure and the other family had a 4-year-old boy who had cyclin-dependent kinase-like 5 (CDKL5) disorder — a rare X-linked genetic disorder that results in difficulty controlling seizures and severe neurodevelopmental impairment. Each family received a check of $6,000.

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Taukeiaho assisted families in need by helping coordinate the 5K run.

“Helping out to host the 5K run as a committee member and handing out the checks to the families was very rewarding to me,” Taukeiaho said.

The celebration increased the cultural awareness even among Pacific Islanders. According to a Salt Lake Tribune article, “One of every four Tongans in the U.S. calls Utah home,” Utah boasts the second largest Tongan population and fourth largest Samoan population in this country. Yet, Unga said, “Second-generation Pacific Islanders have never been home (Pacific Islands). They don’t get any more of the culture, food, and language.”

Second-generation Pacific Islanders responded very positively to the past celebrations. “They can’t get enough. They want more. After the taste, they save up money to go back to the Pacific Islands and see more, especially the language,” Unga said.

They also garnered an opportunity to network with other community members. “I advise and connect students to other Pacific Islanders. I help them get internships and jobs, and refer them to other business contacts,” Unga said. “I help no less than 50 students a year.”

Some students even took part in the fourth celebration by screening a film. Unga said students from Salt Lake Community College made the film incorporating the Pacific Island videotaping techniques learned from the New Zealand filmmakers.

Participants gained novel experiences, too. “When you work with people, you have to learn to compromise. Keeping mind and heart in the right spot answered my question of what I want to accomplish at the UPIHM. Past years have been that way,” Unga said.

“Pacific Islanders are a very small group of minorities,” he said said. “We have challenges because of that, and we have one common goal: To live a happy life. We just want everyone to be successful and try to be good members of the society.”

 

Pacific Islander cuisine and the impact of colonization

Story and photos by ANTHONY SCOMA

On the corner of Redwood Road and Paxton Avenue in Salt Lake City hangs a sign that reads “Pacific Seas Restaurant and Market” on a background of beaches and palm trees. While the sign is at odds with the landlocked, wintery Utah surroundings, the interior of the building is filled with the enticing scents, sounds and heat of a busy kitchen. Adults and children sit and eat at the tables or stand near the counter and order what is likely the most popular Pacific Islander cuisine in Utah.

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1151 South Redwood Road, Salt Lake City

“A lot of these customers that we receive come to the restaurant because it reminds them of their upbringing and their culture,” Maryann Tukuafu, the manager of Pacific Seas, said in a phone interview. When asked why food is so important she said, “I know for the Polynesian culture, it is a sense of togetherness, a unity. Food brings people together.”

At any celebration, from birthday to baptism to promotion party, food plays a part in recognizing good news. Tukuafu emphasized how these traditional dishes promote feelings of happiness and togetherness among Pacific Islander families and communities.

This shared experience and expression of culture is built on a history that stretches back to the first Pacific Islander communities. However, the diet of those who inhabited the islands originally had a much different makeup than what is seen today.

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A plate from Pacific Seas Restaurant consisting of lu sipi, a dish of lamb, taro leaves, mayonnaise and coconut milk; a lamb chop; fish with coconut milk gravy; and sweet potato.

According to a 1992 study by the Institute of Polynesian Studies, 85 percent of pre-colonial Pacific Islander diet was vegetable-based with 10-15 percent coming from protein largely sourced from the sea. More specifically, the Pacific Islander diet in the pre-colonial era was 60-78 percent carbohydrates, 10-15 percent protein and 7-30 percent fat. In comparison, the modern U.S. diet is 45-65 percent carbohydrates, 10-35 percent protein and 20-35 percent fat.

“Prior to colonization, refined sugars, deep frying, and trash foods like turkey tails and lamb flaps were not part of the diet,” said Jake Fitisemanu Jr., chair of the Utah Pacific Islander Health Coalition, in an email interview. “It reduced the prestige and perceived value of indigenous foods and enhanced the value of introduced and imported foods.”

It wasn’t just changes in diet that European missionaries and colonizers brought. They also introduced technology and economic systems that made the Pacific Islanders’ highly active farming, hunting and fishing lifestyle obsolete. As with most demographics, modern work has continued this shift to more sedentary lives.

“In terms of activity, westernization’s emphasis on cash economy devalued the traditional subsistence, hunting, and fishing lifestyles of [Pacific Islanders],” Fitisemanu said. “Modern transportation, heavy machinery and processed foods have allowed for sedentary lifestyles that are a far cry from traditional lifeways that depended on intensive manual labor, walking, paddling and physical activity to ensure survival on remote islands with limited resources.”

These factors have contributed to the rise in obesity and diabetes in Pacific Islander communities. According to findings shared by the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services Office of Minority Health, Pacific Islanders were “three times more likely to be obese than the overall Asian American population” and “20 percent more likely to be obese than non-Hispanic whites in 2015.” In addition, “native Hawaiians/Pacific Islanders are 2.4 times more likely to be diagnosed with diabetes as the white population.”

This phenomenon is not isolated to just Pacific Islander immigrants. According to a July 2010 bulletin posted by the World Health Organization, the abandonment of traditional diets for imported foods has led to widespread obesity, nutritional deficiencies, heart disease, diabetes, hypertension and premature death throughout the Pacific Islands.

Local groups and events are working to improve the relationship between Pacific Islanders and their diet, exercise and health. The MANA 5K and Aloha 5K promote Pacific Islander health. Utah Pacific Islander Health Coalition chapters in Salt Lake and Washington counties host a Health Week every year. They provide health resources, wellness screenings and demonstrations to promote Pacific Islander families’ physical activity. Weber and Davis counties will also host similar events after the creation of new UPIHC chapters there, Fitisemanu said.

For food and exercise, Fitisemanu recommended Pacific Islanders start with “small, incremental changes that reduce our reliance on processed foods in favor of more fresh foods and more varied diet.”

He also stressed “family-based and group-based efforts that play to our cultural values of social connection and mutual support. We need to learn lessons from the way our ancestors lived and thrived before colonization, and I believe those tenets are easier to integrate into our cultural worldview than new-fangled fad diets and celebrity-endorsed workout routines,” he said.

It must also be noted that health is informed by a culture’s values, history and ideals of beauty. Here again, we see evidence of the clash between pre-colonial and post-colonial ideas. For a Pacific Islander, what communicates health and beauty may be very different than what would be found in the pages of a western magazine.

When asked what the standards are for female beauty among Pacific Islanders, Susi Feltch-Malohifo’ou, executive director of Pacific Island Knowledge 2 Action Resources, said, “For a Tongan, and Samoans, I’d say heavier-set. Our older elders, they love women with big calves.” She also said that being overweight in Pacific Islander culture “signifies that your family has money to feed you. … When you are plump, that is looked as your family having status.”

The role food plays in Pacific Islander culture and health is significant. Food is used to communicate love, togetherness, celebration and community. The traditional food practices of the Pacific Islands are being used as a model for improving diet and overall health of the community in Utah and the Pacific Islands. And the authentic food from Pacific Seas Restaurant has brought Utah Pacific Islanders together since 1991.

Maryann Tukuafu’s father, the founder of Pacific Seas restaurant, “didn’t realize that it would flourish the way it did,” she said. “There were no other Polynesian/Pacific Islander restaurants at the time. [In] 1991, you still had people migrating from the islands to America. So it gave people who didn’t have time … time to swing by and pick up a plate.”

Iosepa is not a ghost town for Hawaiians in Utah

Story and photo by DAYNA BAE

Utah has a long history of migration of Pacific Islanders since the 1800s. Such a long history may lead to today’s large Pacific Islander population in Utah.

Jacob Fitisemanu Jr., a clinical manager with Health Clinics of Utah and associate instructor of ethnic studies at the University of Utah, said that the first settlement of Pacific Islanders in Utah was made in 1873. The first settlement was in Warm Springs, west of Salt Lake City.  It is thought that they settled there because it was a little warmer in the winter and people were able to grow some crops during the cold season. “They had farms up in that area, initially,” Fitisemanu said.

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Jacob Fitisemanu Jr. is sharing his idea at the University of Utah.

Pacific Islanders’ migration was caused by a certain trigger, a religion. Pacific Islanders’ migration to the state of Utah has a direct correlation with LDS church and missionary.

Malie Arvin, Ph.D., assistant professor of history and gender studies at the University of Utah, said, “The LDS church missionary played significant roles for the first arrival of Hawaiians.”

Fitisemanu also said, “They came here to help to construct Salt Lake Temple.”

Lots of people wonder how Hawaiians arrived in Utah in the 1800s. Since Utah is located in the middle of the desert and mountains, some people assume that they arrived in Utah by crossing the continent with handcarts. In fact, they came to Utah by trains.

Hawaiians’ arrival by railroad at that time is related to the gold rush in the 1800s and the completion of the transcontinental railroad in 1869.

“Hawaiians took ships to San Francisco and then traveled by train to Utah. The first group of Hawaiians came back with missionaries in the 1880s. By then, travel between Hawaii and California was pretty common and relatively easy,” said Hokulani Aikau, Ph.D., an associate professor of ethnic studies at the University of Utah, in an email interview.

Despite their religious piety in the LDS church, the first Hawaiian settlers in Utah experienced severe discriminations in Utah.

“Hawaiians, one of the first native Pacific Islander groups, came to Utah and faced lots of discriminations in Utah, because of their race,” Arvin said.

Fitisemanu said, “When they came they weren’t allowed to stay in hotels, they were not allowed to eat at restaurants. So they packed their own food and slept in a wagon.”

Iosepa, a ghost town in Skull Valley, Utah, has a direct relation with Hawaiian migrants. In 1889, Hawaiians came to Utah and built up a new town. It was named after Iosepa, which means “Joseph” in Hawaiian.

Arvin said, “At first, they lived in Salt Lake, but then the church moved them out to Iosepa, which took a three-day journey to travel to Salt Lake City, kind of middle of the desert. So they needed to do a lot of work to live there. They had to irrigate the area to grow food.”

According to Utah Stories, Hawaiian Mormons decided to come to Utah to establish their own town in one of the most barren regions in the west desert. Utah Stories reported that they worked hard, many died, but they persevered and survived, and in 1911 the town won an award as “the most progressive town in Utah.”

Still, there is an unsolved mystery of the abandonment of thriving village Iosepa, after successful cultivation. In 1917, six years after becoming the most progressive town in Utah, Hawaiian residents of Iosepa left their village and went back to Hawaii. Many historians and experts in ethnic studies have different views on this.

According to Utah Stories, the residents “decided to return to Hawaii to help build the first Mormon temple in La’ie.”

Aikau believes that they were forced to return to La’ie, Hawaii, to build another temple in the city. According to Aikau, Hawaiian people described the exodus as “our trail of tears” since they did not want to leave Utah and the heart of the church. Yet, they were required to leave due to the paternalism of the leadership and the plans to build the temple in La’ie.

“My understanding is that folks did not want to leave and that the church leadership had to force them to go,” Aikau said.

Pacific Islanders in Utah still visit Iosepa on Memorial Day and commemorate the town of Iosepa and their first settlers.

“Most of the commemoration is on Saturday and begins with a sun rising ceremony and a flag raising ceremony,” Aikau said. For the rest of the day, Pacific Islanders hold various activities, performances, presentations in a pavilion.

During Memorial Day weekend, some people go to the cemetery and clear debris from the graves. They then place leis in the graveyard, a type of Hawaiian wreath that symbolizes affection made by folks at the pavilion. On Saturday evening, they have a potluck style lu’au, a Hawaiian party, followed by a dance until late in the night.

“On Sunday morning, there is a sacrament and testimony meeting held at the pavilion,” Aikau said.

Nobody knows what exactly happened in Iosepa in 1917, yet, the abandoned town became a religious symbol of sacrifice and faith. In spite of many discussions for several years about mysterious history, Iosepa cemetery was placed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1971.

More stories about Pacific Islander’s migration and Iosepa can be found in “Chosen People, a Promised Land: Mormonism and Race in Hawai’I” written by Hokulani Aikau, “Remembering Iosepa: History, Place, and Religion in the American West” written by Matthew Kester, and “A History of Iosepa, The Utah Polynesian Colony” written by Dennis Atkin.