Interesting Islanders

Meet Charles Rillamas

The Hilo Farmer's Market is an addictive place to go for those who love to watch people. It just so happens my mom, Kay, a visitor from the mainland, and I were meandering through the endless rows of vendors when we came upon 59-year-old Charles Rillamas.
There he sat smiling, resting comfortably under the shade of his large brimmed straw hat. His eyeglasses were strategically posed midway on his nose while his gloved hand held the chisel adeptly working out the details of a most unusual, yet beautiful wooden statue.
A pretty picture to be sure.
'Hand me your camera,' I begged my mother and she complied.
Snap, snap...snap.
"Eh, if you gonna take pictures, you gonna take me wit you, so I like know where I stay going," Uncle Charlie said with a toothless grin.
"Knoxville, Tennessee," my mom replied.
"Where dat?" asked this native Hawaiian man as he gently cradled the wood, touching it lightly before continuing his work.
"Near the Smoky Mountains," she answered.
The conversation became a blur as the two began to discuss the reasons why the mountain chain found in Eastern Tennessee is called "Smoky." It had something to do with vegetation, but, honestly, I was too busy watching Uncle Charlie's facial expressions. The lines on his face, the light that danced from his eyes, reflecting his gentleness and joy.
His wisdom.
You see, through the years this 1963 Kaimuki graduate, father and "grandfadda" has learned it's what a man possesses on the inside that counts. Forget materialism. Forget stuffs. This country kanaka and former carpenter moved from Palolo Valley on Oahu to King's Landing in Hilo almost two years ago in order to simplify his life.
He lives in a home with no electricity and no bathroom, but he's happy. At least he has an outhouse and a battery-powered generator, he laughed and mused.
He loves to listen to the wood, work it patiently with his hands and talk story. Fortunately, the farmer's market provides ample opportunity to accomplish all three.
"My carving is a labor of love," Uncle Charlie said. "I don't make much money, but I survive. It's all good."
This master woodworker began his craft in the tenth grade when a kupuna carver from Molokai noticed his talent and took Uncle Charlie under his wing.
"When he taught me how to carve, he taught me my culture first because I needed to know where I came from," Uncle Charlie remembered. "Then, he showed me how to carve with old Hawaiian manao, from my feelings. Some people no more da touch for wood. For me, they call me a master carver, but to me the tree is the master because it tells me what to carve."
As a young student, Uncle Charlie also learned to never take a tree unless he put something back in its place. As a result, he is a very conservative carver.
"I save da wood," he said. "I don't chop down trees. People give me da wood or I find pieces discarded by the trashcan."
Most importantly, Uncle Charlie has learned life is about respect. Respecting himself, respecting his creative gifts and respecting others.
Perhaps in learning to never discard a piece of good wood, no matter how small, Uncle Charlie has learned never to discard people. And, the same way he sees the inside of the wood and visualizes the masterpiece it will become, Uncle Charlie sees the same endless potential and greater value inside all people.
Whichever, those who stop to talk story with Uncle Charlie are the richer for doing so. If you meet him along the way, don't forget to look in his eyes. His story is there, ready to be touched, handled, carved. A masterpiece in the flesh. Uncle Charlie.