The English word migration derives from the Latin verb migrare, meaning “to move from one place to another.” By the broadest definition, human migration refers to any movement of people, either temporary or permanent, from one place to another. Usually, however, the term is used only for the permanent change of residence by an individual or group-- From Kids Britanica

An old Japanese cemetery on the North Shore of Oahu

When I came to Hawaii to serve at the Polynesian Cultural Center, my initial assignment was to work in the Pacific Theatre and the production Ha, Breath of Life. After a while, I realized that the theatre administration didn’t have anything for me to do. Not wanting to waste my time on the mission, I picked up work in the mission office doing various chores for our mission president, helping with a fleet of cars, and keeping 32 beach cruiser bicycles running for the junior missionaries on the streets of La’ie. That change in responsibilities can’t be considered a true migration because I did drift back to the theatre to help with several projects (remember, human migration generally means a permanent change).

After a year of plodding along, our mission president felt it was time for a change. Virginia and I rarely saw each other. I would go to the office at 8:00am and work until 4:00pm. She would go to her assignment at 3:00pm and work until 9:30pm. We rarely saw each other except maybe for a quick lunch. Senior couples generally serve together when/where possible, but rarely are they asked to be on completely opposite schedules for over 12 hours. He therefore requested a transfer (a migration?). We were both moved to the Mission Settlement in the Villages of Polynesia to teach ukulele. I’ve already written about the ukulele experience, except to put it in context of migration. From that point on I have never assumed I was going back to the theatre.

Waimea Valley Botanical Garden, North Shore, Oahu

After two months teaching ukulele, I was asked to make an additional shift, albeit a minor adjustment. There are three buildings that make up the Mission Settlement. I should probably explain that the Mission Settlement is the area of the park that explains the introduction of Christianity into the Hawaiian Islands. The three buildings are 1) the mission home with a replica of the missionary living quarters and includes a gift shop that sells Hawaiian quilting art, and with a large lanai where the ukulele lessons are taught 2) a chapel where the history of Christianity is taught beginning with the Congregational missionaries that arrived from Connecticut in 1820 3) the school house where the migration story is told and guests can see a model of a printing press that revolutionized the language story.

Kualoa Ranch, the backdrop to many motion pictures like *Jurassic Park*

About a month ago, I was moved from teaching ukulele to the chapel to teach history, both the story of the various missionary groups that came to the islands, and the migration story. And so, my personal migration journey continues. I’m not expecting to return to teaching ukulele. I’ve read a lot of history while we’ve been on the island, not knowing I was on this trajectory. It has obviously come in useful. The first book I read was James Michener’s Hawaii. Though Michener changed the names and a bit of the timeline, the book was well researched and is genuinely an example of historical fiction. Our presentations are brief. We are teaching tourists, after all. No one is coming to hear a university course on the subject. We teach a general overview in about 15 minutes on our assigned topics. But we have to be prepared to answer questions. I need to study more in my personal time because it helps me understand the context for the stories we tell. The missionary story is easy to tell in 15 minutes, the migration is much more difficult.

The chapel in the Mission Settlement, Polynesian Cultural Center

I begin my migration presentation with a brief explanation of the word “migration” with respect to human movement. That is followed by a question designed to trick my audience. I explain that I was raised with a typical Western education much like all of them. I ask them who, based on a general course of world history, is credited with discovering Hawaii. I almost always get an excited guest who shouts out Captain James Cook. I then follow up with the question, “What is wrong with that answer?” When Cook arrived, there were hundreds of Hawaiians on the beach waiting for him. Where did they come from? That is the story of migration. Cook isn’t part of the migration story because he always intended to return home. These Polynesians on the beach came from distant places and they now called Hawaii home. It’s fun to take the guests on a three-thousand-year journey that begins in Taiwan, and moves south through the Philippines, eastward across New Guinea, and out into the South Pacific Ocean. It took about 1,500 years to reach Tahiti, and another 500-800 hundred years to travel north across the equator and eventually reach the Hawaiian Islands. It was a journey that required skill, courage, strength, and a thirst for adventure.

In our brief 15 minutes we must squeeze in the Polynesian’s skill of ship building, navigation, survival, and beginning life in a new land. The Hawaiian Islands did not have the plants and animals that would sustain life, and therefore they had to travel with the banana, coconut, taro, pig, chicken, etc.

Like the ancient Hawaiians, I’ve been on my own migration journey. With seven months yet ahead of us there will perhaps be additional experiences that will continue my migration story through the park and through the mission. Without a written record, no one knows the reason for the Great Migration. It could have resulted from war, famine, draught, natural disaster, or simply a desire to explore. I don’t know the reason I’m not in the theatre. I don’t know why I’m moved from one assignment to another. I don’t think I’m a problem missionary. The Lord has a reason. Perhaps I’ve needed the growing experience. I don’t really question it anymore. I’m learning to trust Him and move, or migrate, where He wishes me to be.