Kokua for a Kalihi Valley Family Who Lost Their Roof
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$26,450 raised of $100K
208 donations
Aloha, my name is Kama Ortiz. I’m a captain with the Honolulu Fire Department, and I’ve spent my career walking into other people’s worst days. This time it’s my own family, and I’m the one asking for help.
On August 15–16, Hurricane Lala tore across the islands. In Kalihi Valley, the winds ripped the roof clean off the home where my sister, Aleka Ome-Ongayo, mother, Alice Ome lives. Mom was sitting in her recliner when it happened. She called Aleka and said she didn’t have a roof anymore — she could see the mountains. That chair is still sitting there, open to the sky. The damage didn’t stop at the roof. The kitchen is gone. The bathroom ceiling caved in and the whole room is unsafe to walk into. The walls are shaken. Our grandmother’s old room — same thing. Rain came through everything that was left. As Aleka put it while walking a news crew through what used to be their home: their memories are all gone. Everything.
Thankfully, Alice made it out safe. That’s the part I keep coming back to, and that’s the part I’m most grateful for. But safe doesn’t mean okay. Right now Alice is staying with her grandson in Waikele, living out of bags of clothes. Her house from Kalihi Valley she called home, now has no kitchen to cook in, no bathroom to use, and a house that isn’t fit to sleep in. Her grandson and Aleka opened their doors without hesitating, the way island families do. But a full house isn’t a long-term answer for anybody, and Mom needs a path back to a home of her own. Our goal is $100,000. Here’s exactly what it covers: • Roof replacement and structural repairs — the roof is gone and the walls are compromised • Rebuilding the kitchen and the bathroom — both are total losses • Replacing the basics — furniture, appliances, bedding, clothes, everything the rain took • The insurance gap — the deductible plus everything the policy won’t cover My stepmom has always given back, being a retired HPD dispatcher answering the call, now it’s her turn to asking for help. Our family has always been on the giving end of kokua. If you can give, mahalo from the bottom of our hearts. If you can’t, please share this — a share costs nothing and reaches someone who can. And if you’re the praying kind, we’ll take that too. To everyone who has already shown up with tarps, plate lunches, muscle, and prayers: we see you, and we won’t forget it.
Mahalo nui loa, Kamehalani Kama Ortiz
On August 15–16, Hurricane Lala tore across the islands. In Kalihi Valley, the winds ripped the roof clean off the home where my sister, Aleka Ome-Ongayo, mother, Alice Ome lives. Mom was sitting in her recliner when it happened. She called Aleka and said she didn’t have a roof anymore — she could see the mountains. That chair is still sitting there, open to the sky. The damage didn’t stop at the roof. The kitchen is gone. The bathroom ceiling caved in and the whole room is unsafe to walk into. The walls are shaken. Our grandmother’s old room — same thing. Rain came through everything that was left. As Aleka put it while walking a news crew through what used to be their home: their memories are all gone. Everything.
Thankfully, Alice made it out safe. That’s the part I keep coming back to, and that’s the part I’m most grateful for. But safe doesn’t mean okay. Right now Alice is staying with her grandson in Waikele, living out of bags of clothes. Her house from Kalihi Valley she called home, now has no kitchen to cook in, no bathroom to use, and a house that isn’t fit to sleep in. Her grandson and Aleka opened their doors without hesitating, the way island families do. But a full house isn’t a long-term answer for anybody, and Mom needs a path back to a home of her own. Our goal is $100,000. Here’s exactly what it covers: • Roof replacement and structural repairs — the roof is gone and the walls are compromised • Rebuilding the kitchen and the bathroom — both are total losses • Replacing the basics — furniture, appliances, bedding, clothes, everything the rain took • The insurance gap — the deductible plus everything the policy won’t cover My stepmom has always given back, being a retired HPD dispatcher answering the call, now it’s her turn to asking for help. Our family has always been on the giving end of kokua. If you can give, mahalo from the bottom of our hearts. If you can’t, please share this — a share costs nothing and reaches someone who can. And if you’re the praying kind, we’ll take that too. To everyone who has already shown up with tarps, plate lunches, muscle, and prayers: we see you, and we won’t forget it.
Mahalo nui loa, Kamehalani Kama Ortiz