Even though I was a total stranger to the island, I was always greeted with a hug and a kiss. That's the Hawaiian way. And Puna Dawson, a hula teacher, really embodied this openhearted attitude. She's a substantial woman who wraps herself around everyone she meets, whether it's on the street or in hula class. She's so positive and full of energy and life that I wish I could go back and visit her every couple of years just to be in her presence.

I got pulled onto this story at the last minute, and this created a lot of pressure because I had to find a way to get inside a complex culture that had been abused and taken advantage of for more than a hundred years. In such a short time it was very difficult to establish a delicate and caring relationship with some of the people I photographed.

I was in an absolutely beautiful taro field that looked like a scene from a postcard when suddenly I heard these loud explosions. So I asked the man standing next to me where the noise was coming from, and he said that it was from one of the military's firing ranges.
A week and a half earlier, I had just finished up "Weapons of Mass Destruction" for the November issue. I found it ironic that I was in a green, remote, and peaceful area surrounded by mountains, and I still couldn't escape my last story. Even in Hawai‘i , the military blows up things.