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Marie Rengstorff penned this literal "farewell address" to explain why she needed to move from the island of Hawaii to a condo in Maui:
I just re-read the article, "Is Your SF Club Dead Yet?" I read it on-line. I needed a link with a nicer world. Last night my yard had a pack of pit bulls in it. And, this morning, there was a dead pig not 20 feet from the entrance to our wilderness community. Ironically, our community is called "Kona Paradise." It should have been called "Pit Bull Haven." All the human deaths and maulings in this vicinity have been declared by the police to be "accidents." When I complained about one of four attacks to myself and/or my small dog, the police said, "Why don't you walk the other direction or drive your dog to a place to walk?" I am going to do as they say and more.
I am shipping my car to my condo on Maui. My house here is for sale, or it will be [this week.] I thought I could live in this version of the wild west. Nope. Domestic dog packs and crack heads are much more dangerous than lions or wars in Africa. I lived in Africa for 1-1/2 years and was never bothered by lions or soldiers, although I lived in the middle of both. Here, in the last 1-1/2 years, our general neighborhood suffered two deaths, two maulings requiring extensive hospital stays and multiple surgeries, one man knocked flat on his back but not seriously injured, and one lady who had to have help removing a pit bull mix from his attachment to her butt. That does not count the killing of the horse, where the rider escaped basically with only a few bruises when her horse was brought down. Nor does it count the death of a large herd of rare sheep which has just been shipped to New Guinea for breeding and then shipped back. A dog pack killed them all.
The killing of pigs does not count, because that is almost daily. We have many wild pigs which are hunted by both dogs and people, for sport.
The above was limited to the dog-inflicted injuries which made it from our community to the Honolulu TV news. As for the crack heads, the man next door stabbed his wife last February. The police did nothing. When he threatened to shoot her, a few months later, they did come out and talk with him. His wife promised to keep it from happening again??? You figure that one out.
So, I'm moving to Maui. I have a great, but tiny, condo near the beach there. I will have to come back here, to the crack heads and pit bull packs, for a few days each month to clean up the jungle and the dirty floors, until my house is sold. I have been here, in Pit Bull Haven, for almost 10 days now. I can hardly wait to get back to Maui, the golden sand beaches, and the people who walk their dogs, and who even pick up their dog shit. This gorgeous paradise jungle feels like a prison cell. I cannot walk farther than one block or risk my life. Actually, I am not really safe outside my own door.
I have poison out, tablets in hamburger. One of the pit bulls has eaten quite a bit of it. It does not seem to phase him. It just saves him from having to return home for dinner. Last night, I did not have any spiked hamburger out. I guess that drove the pack to go kill a pig. They might have killed a cow as well. They had already driven one of the local cattle out onto a sharp ledge of lava where she could not get down by herself. She called plaintively all day, but was silent by morning.
This morning, a second neighbor put some poison out as well. Perhaps he has a stronger version of poison. I will ask him for some of his.
I am talking about family dogs. The toughest is called Hula. His female owner, every morning, calls, "Here, Hula, sweetie." Every night, his male owner does the same. Sometimes, his male owner manages to catch Hula sweetie and carries him home. Hula sweetie does not come when called. Hula sweetie is still a growing puppy who already weighs about 85 pounds. Hula sweetie does not know how to walk on a lead.
I must run a few errands regarding putting my house on the market. Then I must drive my car 97 miles to the dock. Soon after that I will be back in Kihei, where a pack of pit bulls who kill children or a crack head who stabs his wife are considered, by the police and by the community, as wrongful acts.
I really did not think that dogs and drug addicts could drive me from my home in the rain forest of the Island of Hawaii. I had lived amid dangers before. I had lived in the middle of two African civil wars, the Wild West of the logging communities of the 1940s where shoot-em-ups were as common as once a month, and slept in the open of Ethiopia and Kenya with lions all round. In comparison, the southern and south-eastern areas of the Island of Hawaii are exceedingly violent and corrupt. Those, and other back-country areas of Hawaii, will remain so until people want it otherwise.
This letter allowed me to let off steam about these 10-or-so days I returned to live in the middle of all these messes. I will return to the life on the beach at Kihei where I will be insulated, but only a bit, from these problems. I will be able to live in them enough to observe and write about them, but not have to face death daily. That level of danger begins to get irritating.
I must return to cutting back the jungle before it covers my fruit trees. I will miss those trees. They were just getting big and old enough to cut my food bill significantly. Sigh. And, I will miss Honaunau, where exists one of the most fantastic snorkeling locations on this globe. Later, perhaps in a few years, I will return to Honaunau, the traditional Hawaiian City of Refuge, as one of those tourists who don't have to notice the corruption and abuses. But I will notice because I have learned to see.
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