I would not have thought it possible to post anything on this site that combines the beauty and wonders of Hawaii with matters relelvant to my working life. Well, except silly anecdotes like my gecko-in-the-bra story. Today I feel privileged to share with you some news about a man-made wonder and how my industry came to her aid.

Hokulea has been called the pride of Hawaii. She is a double-hulled Polynesian voyaging canoe, built and navigated in the ancient ways. Her path is calculated by the stars; no modern navigational aids are used. Her accomodations are rudimentary; there are no luxurious cabins, no breakfast buffets and no bathroom facilities to speak of. Hokulea has traveled throughout the Pacific since 1974. Her story provides proof to the old oral traditions, handed down through many generations, of Hawaii being settled by Polynesians traveling in great canoes. Thor Heyerdahl proved in 1947 that such journeys were possible when he sailed Kon Tiki from Peru to Raroia atoll. Holulea continues to fill in the blanks in Polynesian history. She is currently out to sea. You can stay abreast of her progress via the Polynesian Voyaging Society weblog. Do go to there and look around. You can spend hours viewing photos, reading the crew's logs and tracking Hokulea's progress. Her journey is being used as an educational experience for school kids throughtout Hawaii, but in truth, almost every man, woman and child in the state is following along in facination. She is at the top of our headline news almost daily. I guess the broadcasters are wise enough to know that all of our hearts are with her.

So what does this have to do with my work? Well, way back in the '80s I took my first pest control licensing exam, and I have had the privilege of renewing about every four years since then. When I've transferred, first from Louisiana to California and later to Hawaii, I had to take the exams in my new home state. I've always worried to the point of making myself physically ill in the days leading up to exams. In California and Hawaii the test is mostly fill-in-the-blank and multiple choice, with a lot of math to keep me on my toes. In Louisiana, where I was first licensed, a good portion of the test was in the form of questions to be answered with essays. Having worked myself up into a frenzy in the days preceding that first exam, I was relieved to find that most of the answers rolled smoothly off of my pen. Then I got to the last question and drew a total blank. You see, while it is necessary for me to understand all of the available remedies for a given pest control problem, I have never carried the separate license required for fumigation. I know the basics, but the question posed a problem I'd never even heard of, much less performed corrections for. After excusing myself to upchuck my breakfast into a toilet, I returned to my seat and felt my doom descend upon me. The essay required that I describe every aspect of how one would fumigate a boat in water. Treatment materials to be used, procedures to be followed, safety equipment needed, precautions to be exercised ... everything. After much time spent in fruitless thought, an answer came to me. "To fumigate a boat in water, I would call the Department of Agriculture (licensing agency) and request that they provide advice and direct supervision." This was not, of course, the answer that was sought. It was, however, deemed appropriate in the end, with a few points subtracted for lack of detail. I should have rememberd that fumigant gasses, being lighter than air, will not penetrate water. No contamination can occur. The proper procedure requires that tarps be affixed to the structure (a ship or boat) to contain the gas, and that they extended into the water. Well, duh! Of course it does.

I got my most recent online edition of Pest Control Magazine today. Memories of that horrible first exam came flooding back when I saw that it featured an article entitled Historic Hawaiian Ship Rescued By Fumigation With Vikane. I was disappointed that I somehow had not known that Hokulea had had a drywood termite infestation (for what other ship could it be?) I would have known how to handle the problem, having had about twenty-five years to correct my past ignorance. Irrelevant, of course, since I still choose not to be involved in fumigations, but, by golly, why had no one shared this worthy news with me? Anyway, while the article makes me proud of my industry, it didn't actually relate all that well to my exam dilemma. Those wimps waited until she was in drydock to fumigate Hokulea. HA! If they'd only called me first ...

Still, it gave me a springboard to tell you a story that combines two of my passions, so I guess it's all good.

Labels: life in Hawaii, termites, work

This post has been submittd to the Postie Carnival for Monday, January 29, 2007.

The company that brought me to Hawaii twelve years ago provided quality assurance for DOD housing. Under the master DOD contract we inspected military housing for the Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines and Coast Guard. We were called in after subterranean termite ground treatments had been done by other pest control operators to evaluate their work. We looked for evidence that every area that should have been treated had been. We analyzed the treatment documents to make sure that the materials used had been appropriate to the job, and that the correct mixture of the chemical was applied. We measured the distance between holes drilled in slabs to ascertain whether the application complied with label requirements, and we noted whether holes had been properly filled after treatment. We applied **bio-technology** to determine whether the treatment had been effective. If work seemed dodgy, we took soil samples to send off for high-priced analysis that would prove definitively whether or not effective ground barriers were being applied. We evaluated fumigation efficacy also. The gases used leave no residues, so the only ways to determine if an effective kill had been obtained were to tear up the structures looking for live termites or to apply our bio-tech device. Our method was less costly and more aesthically pleasing. :0)

A lot of the local pest control operators resented us, understandably so. No one likes a competitor to be given the power to prove that they're doing lousy work. There were a few operators who took a different view. They realized that they could use our services to evaluate and improve the quality of their own work. One company signed a contract for us to provide quality-assurance monitoring for every job they performed. Others had us spot-check a few dozen jobs a month.

The day after I arrived in Hawaii I was provided with an employee from one of those companies to help me get acquainted with local ways. He greeted me wearing shorts and a company tee shirt. I thought that was very unprofessional, but soon discovered that it's not only considered appropriate in Hawaii, it's the only way to go if you're going to do physical labor in a tropical climate. His name was Clyde and I still remember that my first impression was also impaired by his bad breath. He was "local" and I had some difficulty understanding his speech, but he was patient with me and we were communicating well before the day was over (well, I thought we were.) He took me to several vacant houses that his company had recently treated. We discussed his treatment methods and he introduced me to a few structural features that I had not routinely seen in mainland buildings. One of these features was the shallow, pre-made trusses that form the roof support for most Hawaii homes. The attics don't have much space because of low overheads and are extremely hard to navigate.

At one location I preceded Clyde up the ladder to look at an attic. As I pushed up the hatch that provided entry, something fell down my shirt. To say that I was surpised when it began to crawl around in there is an understatement. I forced Clyde back down the ladder and proceeded to paw around in a very un-ladylike manner, trying to capture what I assumed would turn out to be a cockroach. When it managed to crawl inside my bra and contacted my skin, I knew it was something else. It was soft and warm, and managed to squeeze itself into a space at the band of my bra without the scratchiness that an insect with an exoskeleton is known for. I finally managed to get a grip on the intruder and pull it out. Clyde was by then stooped over in laughter, looking like he was about to pee himself. I opened my hand and my captive leapt to a nearby wall and scurried away, to Clyde's shout of "Wooaaah! Spahk 'em!" I collected the few shreds of dignity that I had left and we carried on with our workday.

A few days later I was in the warehouse of Clyde's employer, hanging out with several of "the guys." I pointed to some activity in a corner and said "I'm surprised all those 'spockums' can live in here where all the pesticides are stored." This seemed hilarious to all of the assembled workers and most of them laughed until they had tears in their eyes. I stood there feeling awkward and embarrassed, waiting for an explanation. That was the day I learned that spahk' em is another local way of saying "look a dat!" Geckos are just called geckos.

I rememberd Clyde when I saw him a few months ago at a pest control conference. He remembered me, too. Apparently the story of the day we met has remained as fresh in his mind as it has mine. He introduced me to a fellow he was standing with. "Hey, bra, dis dat spahk 'em girl wit da **bio-technology device** I tol you bout."

Sheesh! I worked with that man for two years. You'd think he would remember me for the fine service I provided!

**This bio-technology utilized each inspector's four-footed, wet-nosed, tail-wagging partner. I'm not using the more obvious words here because I don't want old boss to stumble across combinations of keywords that would let him find my blog. ;0)

Labels: language, life in Hawaii, termites, work

I think the stuff I put out for United Cerebral Palsey this week was stolen once again before the truck got here.

This week I'm actually kind of glad my old poi dog, Buddy, is deaf. There have been fireworks going off intermittently for the last three days. Poor old Buddy has had nervous conniptions when a single firecracker exploded in past years. Last year he only reacted to the really big boomers, and I'm thinking he'll sleep through New Year's Eve this time around. I certainy hope so. I hate the after-effects of giving him doggie downers.




I'm watching The Sound of Music as I type this. I've probably seen it fifteen or twenty times, but it's been a few years. It still charms. I'll still cry.

I need to do a bio and some termite education stuff for homeowners, per request of a client who will promote me to her realty network on her website. I'm going to hate doing the bio. There's a fine line between promoting oneself and bragging.




I really miss my son this time of year, and feel the miles between us more.

Labels: family, termites, United Cerebral Palsy Association, work