Inside the terminal at Keyhole, they sat waiting to board, watching husky Hawaiians load luggage onto baggage ramps. Arriving tourists smiled at their dark, muscled bodies, handsome full-featured faces, the ease with which they lifted things of bulk and weight. Departing tourists took snapshots of them. 'That's how they see us', Pond whispered. 'Porters, servants. Hula Dancers, clowns. They never see us as we are, complex, ambiguous, inspired humans.' 'Not all hole see us that way...' Jess argued. Tanya stared at her. 'Yes, all Hole and every foreigner who comes here puts us in one of two categories: The malignant stereotype of vicious, drunken, do-nothing Tanaka and their loose-hipped, whoring whine. Or, the benign stereotype of the childlike, tourist-loving, bare-foot, aloha-spirit natives.

Shark Dialogues