*permission to use excerpt given by John Fowler/ Rebecca Kirson of Kava Grower’s notes

Hawaii ain't paradise but it's heavenly. The mosquitoes are a bitch and the geckos shit on us all night long while the rain and humidity make the house a fecund environment for fungus, but the reality of such minor inconveniences balances the dreamlike qualities that make Hawaii a place that we've come to love.

In any case, for an obsessed kava grower this is definitely the place to be, deep in the heart of traditional Hawaii kava-growing country and surrounded on all sides by the stonework of the ancient Hawaiians. Where else could we live? Living with awa, it helps to be obsessed and I guess that's what I've become. It began in the 1960s when for 8 1/2 years I lived in Vanuatu, then known as the New Hebrides, a French and British condominium (or pandemonium as we expats like to call it). It was at that time still a rather wild and inaccessable place. Many "bush" New Hebridean natives still followed the old custom ways in remote villages on the larger islands while in the tiny capitol of Port Vila, British and French officials squabbled over relative jurisdiction and the "right" way of running the government. Neither side being able to compromise, the islands were blessed with the duplication of services, a manifestation of French and British rivalry at its fiercest.

Quickly discovering that I much preferred hanging out with "Man Bush" of the outer islands than involving myself with the petty intrigues and scandals of Vila, I soon found myself spending more and more time travelling by canoe and foot to remote islands and mountaintop villages. It was here amongst ex-cannibals, aged warriors, staunch foes of both the British and French, fierce upholders of the old custom way, that I was first introduced to kava and its next-to-magical effects.

In the evenings, when the day's tasks were over, it was story time. Sitting on mats around a smoky fire, my friends in the bush wanted to know about life in the outside world -- about the Sputnik, about America, how airplanes worked, . In turn they regaled me with tales of the past murders of traders and blackbirders, of violent and bloody squabbles over pigs, women and land. And of course stories of magic, mythical beings and their own creation as a people. Storying, the making of oral history, was an art, agreement, hard to reach over details, sequence and conclusion, as hours passed and talk flowed. So did the kava. An opaque, almost muddy liquid, bitter, pungent, but oh so good, soothing the body, sharpening the mind and bringing an aura of repose and tranquility in which talk could flow unhindered. Chewed, placed in a wooden bowl with not too much water, wrung out repeatedly with a vegetable bast and finally passed around in a coconut shell patinated with age and use, long evenings passed with the gentle hum of voices until one by one we curled up on the mat and slept. So it was that I came to know the many different types and varieties of New Hebridean kava, some mild and comforting in their effect, others robust and powerful, within minutes overcoming one's senses, reducing the use of muscle to the point of immobility, yet others long-lasting, coming on gradually but retaining their potent punch over many hours. Small wonder that in many Pacific societies fine kava was used to appease, to open negotiations and as a prized offering to the powers that be.

Times and circumstance do change, however. And so it was that some time later I was the proprietor of a gallery and living in an old but nice apartment overlooking the Santa Monica Bay. But change as always was on its way. Santa Monica was fast becoming another blighted extension of Los Angeles and my disenchantment increased in equal proportions. Fortunately by this time I had met Rebecca with whom I shared many things, including a strong desire to leave the turbulence of Southern California and return once again to the Pacific, in this case, Hawaii.  So here we are, living in rural lower Puna on the Big Island. We live you might say a totally solar life, very pleasant but on the other hand frustrating at times. Although not a house overburdened with gadgets or toys, the proximity to the ocean, high humidity, high rainfall and frequent strong winds means that something always requires our technical attention. The same can be said for our large garden and the ever encroaching jungle. It's high upkeep -- but lots of fun The best part is giving vent to the kava obsession. After considerable effort our kava plantation is progressing quite nicely. Locating our starter plants was our biggest problem, as the use and cultivation of kava had long disappeared from popular Hawaiian culture. Specimans were rare and hard to come by, but over time we managed to accumulate an impressive number. Some were retrieved from ancient Hawaiian gardens, others were growing wild in the depths of tropical forests, some came as gifts, some traded, the odd one purchased from a friendly botanical garden.

Today we have growing 9 Hawaiian varieties and one Samoan; all glorious, robust plants with distinct colors and forms and distinct qualities. We're successfully propagating large numbers of cuttings from the mother plants, and we're exploring the feasibility of tissue culture in conjunction with a UHH student in Hilo. In anticipation of market demand sometime in the future, tissue culture will be the way to go!

From what perhaps started out as an obsession, a challenge and a desire to fit one more piece into the puzzle of traditional Hawaiian culture, commercial possibilities are appearing.

American herbal companies are now recognizing kava's unique qualities and as a consequence are processing large quantities of roots into tinctures, elixirs, powders, pills and other nostrums. This, coupled with a Pacific-wide shortfall due to increasing domestic demand and heavy buying from European herbal enterprises portends the possiblity of a rosy future for Hawaian kava growers. Meantime I cherish my plants -- for their own sake as well as for the opportunities that are looming on the horizon.

We also grow the ayahuasca vine (Banisteriopsis caapi) or as I like to call it the "bold and fearless" plant since that's what you become when you take it. My interest in ayahuasca came as a result of a two and a half year stay in the

Peruvian and Brazilian Amazonas but this is another story. Suffice to say that it's also a most enjoyable plant to grow and consume, and like fine kava will take you where you haven't been before.

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