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An AlohaWorld Forum Collaboration Edited by Kamaka Brown

When I was small, my fuddah used to tell me stories about the legendary Mongoose Man. Me and my kid bruddah used to stay awake long after we was supposed to be sleeping and talk about the latest episode my fuddah wen create as bedtime stories each night.

"He was one kolohe kid that ran away from home one day and was raised by one pack of mongoose in one Ewa Beach cane field," my fuddah started in with the story one nite. "Das how da buggah got his name."

"Actually, if you noticed" my fuddah said." he was very fast around chickens which comes from his early training in what is now known as "Da Mongoose Years". Legend has it that he fell into a taro patch one nite and got stuck. A kindly ole tutu man found him up to his okole in mud, cleaned him up and took him home."

"Hoo, dis going be good," I whispered to my bruddah. My bruddah licked his lips in anticipation of a great story.

"You see," my fuddah as just getting his second wind, "It was at this place and time he learned to wear clothes and speak pidgin instead of eating pigeons." My fuddah chuckled at his own joke.

"Unfortunately, his social skills were slow in developing." My fuddah took a deep breath. "One day while at Like Like Drive Inn, he sucked a whole bowl of saimin up his nose. This alienated him from his adopted family and got them banned from the restaurant."

"Left on his own, he found solace among a sordid band of misfits that populated an abandoned pool hall in Kalihi." We let our imagination create a dusty dark room with musty old pool tables and creaky wooden floors. The ghosts of men bending over the tables with their cue sticks, aiming at phantom pockets at the end of fading green felt.

"Although sometimes at odds with members of his new ohana, the Mongoose Man had finally found a home where he was accepted" My fuddah raised his hands to show some finality to his statement. All was good with the world. Mongoose Man lived happily ever after.

Nah ... we wasn't going let dat happen. So we bugged my fuddah until he gave in one nite. He came upstairs as me and bruddah was brushing our teeth getting ready for bed.

"I don't know if you guys know that sometimes the Mongoose Man did revert back to stealing eggs from chicken coops and scaring small children," Me and bruddah gave each uddah the look. Our fuddah had more Mongoose Man stories!

"Oh don't get me wrong," our fuddah said not missing a beat. It was like he had been telling the story all along. He scratched his head and sat in the wicker chair in the corner of the room.

"The Mongoose Man generally accepted his role as the Village Bad Boy which is a couple of steps above the Village Lolo, but that is another story." Our fuddah paused for effect. We knew he would tell stories about the Village Lolo at another time.

"Years later" my fuddah went on, "a number of letters and mail from individuals around the world who had recordings, writings, documents, video, petroglyphs, chants, songs, poems, yodelings, and other recollections of the fabled "Mongoose Chronicles."

"It certainly amazed everyone as reports poured in, how much of an influence this personality has had on folklore of the Islands." Our fuddah could see it in our eyes. We needed to hear more about the legend.

"Why, folks even created a Museum of Natural History of the Mongoose Chronicles." My fuddah said. "I would show you the papers but I left them at work."

"There was grassroots support to this initiative among the Mongoose Man's loyal supporters and athletic supporters." My fuddah continued.

"Soon there was a massive campaign to gather all the artifacts needed to create this awesome undertaking." My fuddah took a breathe, "Ok, in some cases overtaking ... but das one uddah story involving some limu kohu and an exotic dancer named Hanalei. Your muddah said I gotta wait until you guys are older to tell you that one." My fuddah chuckled under his breath.

"The museum committee has selected a Head Curator and was actively looking for Curators for other body parts." My fuddah stood up to emphasize the point. "Boys, dis was one big big job, dis museum."

We couldn't wait for our fuddah to get in from work the next evening to get going with the story. We knew he would ask us if we did our chores: "Yes, Daddy." He would ask if we did our homework: "Yes, Daddy."

"K boys, right after dinner when you finish wash da dishes" our fuddah promised. Man oh man, we wolfed down our dinner and dry cleaned dem dishes. Momma looked at us over the top of her reading classes and shook her head. "You filling their heads with opala!!" she said.

"Neva mind, Momma" our fuddah said, "it's good for the boys. They can tell their kids when we are gone about the Mongoose Man." Momma shook her head sum mo and went back to her sewing smiling ever so slightly.

Our fuddah signaled us into da palor. "One day I saw an article in the newspaper that said ancient ruins have been located in a Mililani cane field of a brewery fabled to be the location where Mongoose Beer was bottled by a secret society of barely sober brew masters."

"It was thought that most brew masters were Portagees. How ewa, items recovered from the site indicate Filipinos were present." My bruddah and I started to laugh.

"Eh no laugh," our fuddah was serious, "the discovery of three chicken fight rings in the rear of the brewery led to this conclusion and one sign that read "Black Dog Adobo Plate Lunch" in what is now thought to be an employee cafeteria." Our fuddah could not keep a straight face on that one and had to join in the laughter with us. Black Dog Adobo Plate Lunch!! Ai Carrumbah!

"Now boys," he got serious, "archeologist from the Bishop Museum participated in the dig in Mililani." My fuddah cleared his throat, "one thing is certain, Mongoose Beer was a potent mixture of hops, skips and jumps performed in a secret ceremony known only by a select few."

My bruddah got up from the bed and began hopping around on one foot making us all crack up. "You mean like dis?" he laughed.

My fuddah took out an old newspepah from underneath the coffee table. "Let me read you dis article from the Star Bulletin. It says: 'The ancient Mongoose Brewery, discovered in Mililani recently by Portagee excavation team, reports that most of the sample specimens found at the brewery were lost because the researchers drank 'em all up.'"

My bruddah and me looked at each other and rolled our eyes. Our fuddah thought he was fooling us by reading a fake article from one old newspepah. "Eh, if you no believe me, you can read the ress." he handed me the newspepah.

I began to read the article on the front page:

"Dateline: Wahiawa Pineapple Field somewhere outside Whitmore Village-

Responding to an alleged threat to harm the newly discovered archeological site and Museum building, ground forces from nearby Schofield Army base have established a strong perimeter around the site.

Armed with rubbah bullets, rubbah bands, and rubbah pants ( in case of accidents) these troops under the direction of Chief of Security and Captain of the Guard ( Right Guard and Left Guard in case of B.O) and are ready for any attempt to disturb or harm the site.

In a related story, the Kala Mung Kai Association of Baga'oong Producers have donated 5,000 jars of Baga'oong to the Portagee Airforce to provide arial support incase of attack. These jars will be used as non-lethal "kinda" smart bombs to ward off any sneaky attempts by any the mythical Mongoose Man or any of his friends to harm the findings at this historical site."

I was speechless. The stories my fuddah was telling us was true. There it was in the newspepah! (I learned later, my fuddah's friend, Clinton who worked in a print shop wen make the newspepah as one joke)

Many variations of the Mongoose Chronicles were told and retold throughout the years. Each time they were recounted, they were embellished just a little bit, just like each time someone heat up the day old stew they put little bit salt and small pinch chili peppah water!

Eh, one day you too might catch wind of a Mongoose Chronicle episode. No forget it all started in one tin roofed house in Waimea Valley along the river. We couldn't catch radio or TV signal in da valley, but we could catch the wonderful stories and tales told by our fuddah on sleepy evenings in the country while the buffo frogs croaked along the river bank.

"Boys," our fuddah was conjuring up anuddah one, "did I ever tell you guys about da time da Mongoose Man wen fight Palani, da king of da Menehune?"

We shook our heads No.

"No??" he said, "well, let me tell you wot happened ..."

About Author

"The Mongoose Chronicles" is a collaborative effort of old AlohaWorld Forum "regulars". All are "transplanted locals" now living in Oregon and California. Clinton, Mokihana and Kamaka all contributed to the "thread".

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