Hakalau Christian Church
BERNICE [née YAMAGATA] HIRAI
October 20 , 1997
Bernice Hirai, née Yamagata, grew up in Hakalau Upper Camp ("Up Camp"). Her memories of Hakalau Christian Church were published in Memoirs of the Hawai`i Hiroshima Heritage Study Group (pages 66-68) in 2012. Mrs. Hirai has graciously provided permission to include the story on this website.
October 20 , 1997
Bernice Hirai, née Yamagata, grew up in Hakalau Upper Camp ("Up Camp"). Her memories of Hakalau Christian Church were published in Memoirs of the Hawai`i Hiroshima Heritage Study Group (pages 66-68) in 2012. Mrs. Hirai has graciously provided permission to include the story on this website.
Part I - The Church
Oh, come, come, come,
Come to the church in the wildwood,
Oh, come to the church in the vale.
No spot is so dear to my childhood
As the little brown church in the vale.
Oh, come, come, come,
Come to the church in the wildwood,
Oh, come to the church in the vale.
No spot is so dear to my childhood
As the little brown church in the vale.
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We used to sing that song endlessly, lustily, happily ...
Hakalau Christian Church was a modest, little, old building, a rectangular floor space. Being of the Congregational sect, considered the plainest of the Protestants, everything was bare. I think the plantation allowed the use of that little plot of land. It was located above the train station, close to the turnstile, a grassy, slopey yard which fronted the church with its corrugated iron roof and 2 x 4 lumber walls. When it rained, the pitter-patter of the raindrops was clearly heard, as there was no ceiling. There was a verandah with a railing, a favorite spot for the little boys (and girls) to climb, with their respective mothers constantly admonishing them, "Abunai, abunai!" |
Photo taken in 1954. Provided courtesy of the University of Hawaii-Manoa Hamilton Library, Hawaiian Collection, Hawaiian Sugar Planters' Association Plantation Archives.
Dedication of Pedestrian Bridge over Highway 19 in Hakalau with the Hakalau Lower Camp Christian Church in the background. Photo from the Jack Ouye Collection, courtesy of Akiko Masuda.
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When you entered, there was just a stark, brown cross at the top of the far end of the wall and a large picture of the Christ Jesus in an oval frame. I used to think He had the kindest eyes and lots of hair; he was the only hakujin in our midst.
On the raised dais, Sokabe Sensei gave his sermons in Japanese from a lectern. To the left of the dais was a simple table and chair where Sensei sat and awaited the beginning of the service . To the right was a foot-pumping organ. The organist was Lea when she became a pre-teenager. I think Takami no Aya-chan came from Honomu with Sensei to play the organ before Lea.
Always, a vase of flowers, home grown snap dragons, porn porn dahlias, lilies or daisies was arranged on top of the organ. It used to worry me that the vase would fall someday, what with the pumping motion shaking it back and forth. (It never happened).
The congregation sat on benches about ten deep. The right side was where most of the women and children sat, and the left side seemed reserved for the men. One interesting architectural feature was a square, raised platform at the rear on the women's side about two feet high and tacked down with goza. That was where the mothers nursed their infant children, complete with tiny futon, so that the babies could sleep through the service.
In this plantation community where Christian families were definitely in the minority, there were about 25 families in Hakalau and Wailea, a tight-knit church congregation, our lives prescribed by a pattern of activities and events which revolved around the church.
Who were these families? I remember some so well to this day ... Okazaki, Tanaka, Matsumoto, Mihara, Tatsuhara, Yamagata, Fukushima, Yugawa, Kikudome, Mukai, and from Wailea, Taira, Miyashiro, Nakamura, Kaneshiro, and Chinen.
This past summer I took a nostalgic ride back to Hakalau. I turned off the main highway at the Hakalau exit and drove slowly to where I thought our church once stood. Nothing was left, and I shouldn't have been surprised. The church seemed ancient even in those days when I attended Sunday School and evening "reihai" with my Daddy and Mama, Lea and Carl.
I looked for the turnstile, that heavy, circular iron mechanism which used to turn the train cars, locomotive and caboose around. That was no longer there. In fact, the gravel road leading down to the train station was now just a path, the sides overgrown with tall weeds.
So I drove about a half mile to where our house once stood. The magnolia tree (the only one in Hakalau, people used to say) was still standing tall, the dark green leaves looking healthy, and the monstera, now looking wild. The landmark cactus which was at least ten feet high was gone.
Like the church in the wildwood, that church in the vale, our house was gone. But, I'm glad I did that trip down memory lane; I left with a warm feeling inside.
On the raised dais, Sokabe Sensei gave his sermons in Japanese from a lectern. To the left of the dais was a simple table and chair where Sensei sat and awaited the beginning of the service . To the right was a foot-pumping organ. The organist was Lea when she became a pre-teenager. I think Takami no Aya-chan came from Honomu with Sensei to play the organ before Lea.
Always, a vase of flowers, home grown snap dragons, porn porn dahlias, lilies or daisies was arranged on top of the organ. It used to worry me that the vase would fall someday, what with the pumping motion shaking it back and forth. (It never happened).
The congregation sat on benches about ten deep. The right side was where most of the women and children sat, and the left side seemed reserved for the men. One interesting architectural feature was a square, raised platform at the rear on the women's side about two feet high and tacked down with goza. That was where the mothers nursed their infant children, complete with tiny futon, so that the babies could sleep through the service.
In this plantation community where Christian families were definitely in the minority, there were about 25 families in Hakalau and Wailea, a tight-knit church congregation, our lives prescribed by a pattern of activities and events which revolved around the church.
Who were these families? I remember some so well to this day ... Okazaki, Tanaka, Matsumoto, Mihara, Tatsuhara, Yamagata, Fukushima, Yugawa, Kikudome, Mukai, and from Wailea, Taira, Miyashiro, Nakamura, Kaneshiro, and Chinen.
This past summer I took a nostalgic ride back to Hakalau. I turned off the main highway at the Hakalau exit and drove slowly to where I thought our church once stood. Nothing was left, and I shouldn't have been surprised. The church seemed ancient even in those days when I attended Sunday School and evening "reihai" with my Daddy and Mama, Lea and Carl.
I looked for the turnstile, that heavy, circular iron mechanism which used to turn the train cars, locomotive and caboose around. That was no longer there. In fact, the gravel road leading down to the train station was now just a path, the sides overgrown with tall weeds.
So I drove about a half mile to where our house once stood. The magnolia tree (the only one in Hakalau, people used to say) was still standing tall, the dark green leaves looking healthy, and the monstera, now looking wild. The landmark cactus which was at least ten feet high was gone.
Like the church in the wildwood, that church in the vale, our house was gone. But, I'm glad I did that trip down memory lane; I left with a warm feeling inside.