Photo Courtesy of Manny Crisostomo
By Melissa Suastegui Martinez
Pearls, the lovely iridescent diamonds of the Pacific, are precious items of great worth.
So are the Pacific Islanders, who are, like pearls, things of enormous beauty.
Pearls were the theme of this year’s 30th annual Pacific Islanders Festival and the gathering of the People of the Pacific glimmered like a translucent necklace around the neck of a beautiful Polynesian dancer. Immigrants from Island societies and their descendants came together on the verdant lawns brushing up against Mission Bay to celebrate Earth’s most far flung culture and its planetary diaspora. The children of Guam, Hawai’i, Tahiti, Palao, Fiji, Samoa, the Philippines and other people of Melanesia, Micronesia and Polynesia gathered as one on the shore of the great moananuiakea.
Continental Pasifika came down from Washington, drove west from Texas and dropped in from the “Eighth Hawai’ian Island,” Las Vegas, the American city with one of the largest populations of Pacific Islanders.
Devante, Sheena and Tatiana agreed that swaying palming trees, an ocean breeze and a sky transitioning from misty grey to cerulean made the festival feel like home.
“I really like seeing all the people and culture,” Devante said. “I was born in Hawai’i, so this reminds me of home.”
Sheena, a broad smile illuminating her face and a hibiscus flower perched behind her left ear, agreed.
“This is a nice reminder of Hawai’i,” she said. “I like it because it is really pleasant.”
Children blew bubbles that bobbed around in the morning breeze like floating pearls, undulating slowly as rainbow orbs of drifting joy until their brief moment ended and they suddenly disappeared.
Pacific Islanders will never disappear pledged singer Daniel Deleon Guerero, who traveled to San Diego from Michigan via Guyana.
“This is a biggest and best festival yet,” he said. “Thank you Pacific Islander Festival Association for this great celebration of who we are.”
Dance owned the day as performers from Samoa, Hawai’i, Guam and other traditions put on swaying displays of choreography that could be subtle as the fingertips of hula dancers or as powerful as the thundering men of Samoa and New Zealand pounding thick poles of giant bamboo on the stages like a dark Pacific squall. All movement had meaning. Dance, a vehicle for storytelling and passing along culture, had a clear message: “We will welcome you with love and joy, but do not trifle with us. We are here to stay.”
