The Miracle Tree by Axel Beers

Kaibigan ng Lāhaina’s secretary, Axel Beers, is a descendant of a Visayan immigrant and a sakada. Born and raised in Wailuku, his life weaves a story shaped by colonialism, exploitation, love, family, and resilience. Like the kalamungay tree, the Filipino spirit endures and thrives despite adversity. He observes this resilience in the Lahaina community. For him, we are the seeds of our community, who are “planted into complicated soils” that “nourish and shade” the generations to come.

I don’t know much about what it means to be Filipino, but I know that I am Filipino.

I can’t speak my mother’s mother tongue and I don’t practice all the cultural protocols, but proudly, I am the son of an immigrant from the Visayas. I am a product of the hacienda, and the great-grandchild of a sakada. I am Filipino and I am kama’āina–a child of this land, born and raised in Wailuku.

The history that weaves my life is mixed, like me. It’s the colonialism, violence, European expansionism, capitalism, colonization, occupation, and labor exploitation that could not fray the fabric because of the love, family, community, resilience, resistance, empowerment, and ingenuity woven through it. In the Kahului sandy soil of Kakanilua, see the kalamungay treeoffering shade and nourishment.

See the miracle tree, roots deeper than ours stretching across the ocean, planted by our blood, into sands once mined and stolen for concrete profits, and then later taken for development–sands containing the bones of our indigenous cousins. See the kalamungay tree, how it grows in the heat and drought and sand, how it is far from its ancestral home, and how it is planted into the conflicts of a world it never knew. See how it thrives and is resilient, and how it gives to this earth and its creatures.

I don’t know much about what it means to be Filipino, but I believe that it is complicated.

The first time I drove near the Lahaina burn-zone was months after the Fire. It was desolate and haunting, but the slope was dotted green with kalamungay trees that gave the first signs of fresh growth. Resilient after so much destruction, they represented every backyard garden lost–every space a family and community once shared for physical, emotional, and spiritual nourishment.

This is part of what KnL means to me. Here we are, seeds carried across the ocean, planted into complicated soils. What is there to do but grow and feed and nourish and shade one another, and then fold our leaves and pods into the ground for future generations? We stand green against the scars and spread our branches for those unsure where they can rest their head.

A kalamungay tree charred by the August 2023 Lahaina wildifre, stands as a reminder and symbol of resilience and health. A staple vegetable for Filipino dishes, this kalamungay tree while partially destroyed, grows forth to bear new leaves and fruit.