Every beautiful place has an underbelly, and Oahu is no different. If you follow the H1 highway westward until it dwindles to a two-lane road, you’ll encounter a few miles of shacks, clothing lines, rusting cars, dilapidated tents and random shoddy items that have seen better days. This is the west end of Oahu island.
There are (by some estimates) about 3,000 native Hawaiians who comprise the working poor of Oahu’s west end. I heard about the observatory here, the old railroad tracks, and the deserted beaches out here. I had not realized the enormity of disenfranchised local community members though.
After I did a brief search, I learned a little about the dynamics going on here. This island’s working poor is often earning modest livings — probably servicing the ABC stores and fast food places that line Waikiki beach — but struggles to generate enough income to cover basic living costs on a regular basis. The real estate market is out of this world in Hawaii — in the six and seven figure realms — and the rental market isn’t much more forgiving. And of course, this is an island, in more ways than one. So these individuals are working hard but never able to catch up, pay a monthly rent or buy a house.
They are pretty much trapped between the Pacific Ocean and a beach.
I read that the state is, and has, implemented some transitional shelters and skills training programs to address the needs of Oahu’s working poor. But my guess is these efforts have done something, but not everything.
I have lots more reading to do to get even close to understanding the whole story here. But I guess my single takeaway from this brief adventure is to understand how local communities are often squeezed out of the landscape when looming and booming industry comes to town in unplanned fashion. Here, it’s the tourism industry but elsewhere it’s the oil industry. Coal. Timber. Rubber. U.S. Other countries. And so on.