Zanta Claus: Start Your Own Charity

Hey folks. The picture you see here is of a homeless Hawaiian person and an equally homeless Zafar, known as Zanta during these times. Yes I was homeless in Honolulu for three years: living veteran's shelters, in cars all over the city and at Barber's Point, tents in Waimanalo and on mats in Kapiolani and Ala Moana parks. It was not by choice. I am a Classical, Jazz and Blues musician. There is no real market for my sound in Hawaii. They prefer traditional stuff and light pop for the tourists; Reggae squeaks by for the young locals. I stick to my guns, stay true to my art and gain insights heretofore, unavailable.

I manage to hold down a few gigs averaging about $175 a week. That'll get me a few nights in the YMCA but your food budget is going to take most of that, if you plan to eat so living in the car is the best option. I'm stuck there.. . . Stranded In Paradise as my new book-in-progress will reveal. Yes, I escape eventually, but I really want to tell you how I found a heart for the indigenous Hawaiians.

I started my own charity: ZaZa's Annual Homeless Kids Initiative and played Zanta Claus for each year of the three that I lived there. This is exactly how it happened. . . .

When I first moved to Honolulu, I acquired a State ID card that enables me to get free camping permits. I pick up a nice tent at the local Sports Authority and some more supplies that I buy with savings. When I go to the City Hall, they show me that the only available site is in Waimanalo on the Windward side of Oahu---that means the wind blows all the time.

Unbeknown to me, Waimanalo campground is a camp of local homeless folks; it's their turf and they don't want outsiders camping there. I didn't know that. After setting up my tent I hear a woman shout as she walks by my address at site #12. .

"Alright Captain Cooke!" referring to me.

Captain Cooke is the Englishman who essentially invited the Western world into Hawaii and claimed it for the Crown of England. It is a major insult. I take it in stride and I take out my guitar and play :La Bamba from inside my tent. I hear people clapping and singing.
I emerge from my tent and see a fierce lioned -eyed Samoan known as "Uncle Mel" picking up a ukelele.