Akela in the Park

Akela in the Park

   

Akela in the Park is a seven minute, one act play that I wrote for The Honolulu Theatre for Youth for their Children’s Literature Hawai’i showcase in 2021. It was recorded and webcast on June 4, 2021. It’s now available for free in ebook form.

Akela began as an idea that sprang from something my sister Soozy said about parents in Hawai’i telling kids that they were going camping when they lost their housing. (You have to understand that dark humor is how my family rolls.) Soozy said that she knew a few families in Hawai’i that were able to keep things semi-normal for the kids despite the very real struggles of living in makeshift shelters in beaches, parks, and open areas. It reminded me of the movie Life is Beautiful where a father keeps the horror of living in a concentration camp from his son by telling him they’re playing a game.

My original idea was pretty much dead on arrival. It treated the seriousness of houselessness too lightly and just wouldn’t land the way I wanted. I did  some research, talked with folks, and realized I was in waaaaay over my head.

In the beginning of 2021, I was teaching writing workshops through PEAU Lit over Zoom. We’d meet once a week to talk about creative writing, using your own voice, and how to self-edit. I’d give them a random set of three words to use in a story before each meeting, and we’d share what we came up with. I decided I would write little vignettes about people from my Lauele Universe and share the first draft vs. the “final” and talk about all the hows and whys of the edits.

One character that kept showing up in my vignettes was a kid named Jon. As Jon told me his story, I began weaving some of the ideas I had about houselessness into his experiences. Akela is a combination of  two vignettes. The first was called Sandwich, and the prompts were a sandwhich, a pencil, and broken glass. The second was called Coconut with a coconut, sunscreen, and a comb as prompts.

In 2021, I had the honor of being one of two featured authors at the Children’s Literature Hawai’i Conference, which led to The Honolulu Theatre for Youth reaching out to put together a video performace based on my work. I sent them a bunch of the Peau Lit vignettes and then met with some of their amazing cast and director while I just happened to be on ‘Oahu. Sandwich and  Coconut intrigued them the most, and we workshopped some ideas. The timeline was super short, but working with the actors inspired me, and I begged them to give me the night to send them a new play based on the vignettes. I went back to our rental in Hau’ula and banged out Akela in the Park in three or so hours.

I had to figure out a way to get the characters’ thoughts out to an audience who were watching instead of reading–easy to to in print, much harder in a play or video. Pops suddenly appeared to solve that challenge. As I worked through the play, I also realized that Jon wasn’t the houseless kid–that was a girl named Akela. Akela’s tough, self-reliant, and proud.

Most of all, Akela wants to be seen.

The roots of homelessness / houselessness in Hawai’i are very complex. It’s unlike any other place I’ve experienced. In Hawai’i, two parents can work full time and still not make enough to cover rent for their family. It’s a far deeper problem than can be explored in any play–or series of novels, I think.

But the conversation has to start with someone willing to see, to engage, to share. We need more people like Jon who reach out in genuine friendship.

Akela in the Park is currently free to download. 

Flash Fiction: Feedlot

Flash Fiction: Feedlot

Happy Halloween! In honor of the day, here’s a very short story.


Feedlot

by Lehua Parker

 

The fun-sized candy calls, “Eat me, eat me, eat me,” to Josey Brackenburg.

No, she tells herself. I bought it for the kids. Besides, I can’t be this hungry already. I just ate breakfast twenty minutes ago.

“Josey,” calls the candy. “Eat me. You’re starving. And I am delicious.”

She resists, but it’s futile. An hour later Josey heaves herself behind the steering wheel, trailing empty wrappers like breadcrumbs. Gotta start line-drying my jeans, she thinks. Stupid dryer’s shrinking them.

In her grocery cart she chases apples with caramels, adds popsicles for their sticks, and stacks cases of soda on the rack beneath—no diet-death chemicals allowed in her house, thank you very much. Rounding the bakery, pumpkin chocolate-chip cookies leap off the shelves and tumble into her cart, perfect for midnight snacking. Not until checkout does she remember.

Halloween is in two weeks.

She needs more candy.

Now.

With twenty bags of sweets and treats jammed in the trunk, Josey takes the twenty-first bag with her, ripping it open to tide her over the two miles home. Hitching herself back into the driver’s seat, the button pops on her jeans.

Cheap. Nobody makes rivets like they used to.

The Snickers bar agrees as it chases the Milky Way down.

Cruising past the drive-thru, she scans the line stretching around the block and reluctantly parks. It’s an hour before lunch time, but the rush has already started.

No time to wait.

Waddling in, she super-sizes her biggie fries. Hot grease and salt sizzle as she drags them through her peanut-butter malt.

Catching her eye, Annie hefts her triple burger. “It’s perfectly normal to gain a few pounds before winter,” Annie laughs. “We’ll diet later!”

Josey pats her swelling muffin top. “Carrots sticks and rice crackers in January,” she grins. “But through the holidays let’s all get fat and happy!”

In space, Zargog adjusts a dial, his antennae quivering with excitement. “You’re right, Captain. The mountain species are more susceptible to the calo-ray than the coastal varieties. Near the large inland sea, scans also show fewer contaminates in the population—lower levels of nicotine, alcohol, and caffeine.”

“Excellent. Inform Chef the feedlot is optimized. Harvest Fest will commence as scheduled.”

THE END