Autobiography
 After the Luau
The luau was over and even though I had no camera I walked to the far corner of the lanai to look at the long shot. My mind rewound the evening; the poi which I did not enjoy and the pit roasted pork which I had liked very much. The hula had really impacted me, the dancers were not slim Hollywood types but real, huge Hawaiian warrior types.

As I stood lost in my review the chief noticed me and came to chat.

"Where are you from," she asked.

"British Columbia," I replied.

"How are our people doing there?" She asked.

To me "Our people" meant native (i.e. First Nations) so I stammered the qualification that I am not just of Micmac and Beothuk ancestry but also have Scotch, Irish, Portugese and Dutch blood.

Again she asked "How are our people doing there?"

She got me to say us, meaning Indian, for the first time in my life.

I think of her often the Lady with the Laughing Eyes, that's the translation, I can't remember her Hawaiian name.

The night I met her was the last night of that Nuclear Free Pacific Conference and the party went late. The next night I wandered the Ala Moana beach all night thinking about what it meant to be an Indian.


This is the metabiography of Vela.
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