CAPTAIN COOK — Turn off the Mamalahoa Highway, onto the Kona Coffee Living History Farm, and an immediate change in the tenor of life takes hold.
There’s Charlie, the old donkey — retired from long years of carrying bags of coffee up the hill from the orchard to the processing mill — quietly munching his hay amidst the sweet smell of sunshine and freshly cut grass.
Nearby, a kiosk built of weathered brown Pacific pine offers cool shade, fresh Kona coffee samples and other farm goods.
Life at the historical site is like it was 100 years ago — a far cry from today’s hustle and bustle world — and a perfect getaway for for visitors looking for a reprieve from the 21st century.
Continue down the path, through the mature macadamia trees, as jungle fowl peck casually at the forgotten nuts, and you find yourself walking into the world of 1920s South Kona.
Japanese immigrant farm worker Daisaku Uchida came to this site in 1913. Having worked for sugar cane plantations on Kauai and Oahu, and various odd jobs, Uchida must have found the opportunity of leasing this land from the Greenwell family to be a dream realized.
As it would still be today.
And touring the site as part of the 45th annual Kona Coffee Cultural Festival and one can’t help but think of Uchida looking around at the green slopes seeing with his mind’s eye fields of coffee, gardens and fruit trees, and a small house to bring up an honest, hard-working family, free of the oppressive nature of the sugar cane industry.
“The decision that Mr. Uchida made to take over the lease on this land,” says Gavin Miculka, museum farm manager since February 2014, on a recent tour of the site that run from 10 a.m. to 3 p.m. daily through today as part of the celebration, “was one that he made not only for himself, but ultimately, he was setting up the foundation for the second and third generations of the Uchidas.”
With that decision, Uchida and his new bride, Shima Marua, moved onto the property and created the Uchida Farm, which they lived and worked for the next 81 years.
“We really try to focus on the time period between 1920 and 1945,” Miculka explains. “The people who work here are not farmers or housewives, though they are meant to seem as if they are. They are museum staff, trained to interpret the history, heritage and culture of this unique place.”
Carolyn Lucas-Zenk, the Kona Historical Society volunteer coordinator and development associate, says it took the better part of a decade for the KHS to acquire the property.
The kuriba, or processing facility, was built just mauka of the 5-acre coffee orchard. During the first few years on the farm, the coffee cherry was pulped by hand, with a hand crank. But in 1930, the family saved enough to order a John Deere motor, sent all the way from Iowa, that powered an elaborate system of belts and gears to hoist a hopper full of fresh cherry up onto the hoshidana, or drying platform. And this made their lives a little easier.
On sunny days, an angular roof to shed rain water was rolled to the side to let the beans dry in the South Kona sun. And when it rained, the roof — equipped with rollers — was pulled closed, keeping the beans bone dry.
Across the yard from the kuriba is the garden, as it would have been in the 1920s. It is filled with daikons, carrots and zuiki taro. Citrus trees and papayas are scattered through the yard and a large chicken coop, cool in the shade, houses several murmuring hens.
But the real gem on the property is the farm house. Take off your shoes here and feel the soft and worn goza grass mat under your feet. The traditional Japanese table is set for tea, and one can feel how full of life the house has been. Everything is conserved and frugal but it is not without its own quiet, sensual beauty.
Still equipped with a working kitchen, Etsuko Miller, a museum staff member, is busy cooking the afternoon meal just as Mrs. Uchida would have been doing 100 years ago.
“Everything on this farm was recycled and sustainably managed. They did this out of necessity,” says Miller as she takes a handmade coffee branch handle from the wall and uses it to lift the hogama, or rice cooker, from the traditional kudo oven.
“The sustainability of this farm is one of the reasons it is so important today,” Miculka adds. “They were recycling 100 years before those terms existed.”
Certainly, this farm represents so many historical perspectives, that it is worth the visit.
“So many people feel connected to this farm because this is an American dream success story,” says Lucas-Zenk.
