In Hawaii, food is more than sustenance: it is a shared language that connects us to each other and to the past. When beloved local traditions begin to fade, it’s not just businesses that close, but also part of our collective identity.

Recently, Pearl City’s iconic “Manapua Man” announced the end. of his almost 50-year careerfulfilling his last manapua this week. For many of us, this marks the closing of another chapter in a long tradition, one that I felt deeply when Mr. Tran, Kalihi’s own manapua manHe passed away in 2019.

Growing up in Hawaii, the Manapua man was more than just a traveling salesman. He was a fixture in our daily lives, someone who brought the community together.

These vendors, often working out of modest white vans or trucks, did more than just sell food: They provided a sense of connection and continuity that went beyond their culinary offerings. Manapua men and women became part of the fabric of our childhood, shaping our sense of belonging with every simple transaction.

I grew up in Kalihi, where Mr. Tran was our manapua man. His white Chevy truck, always parked near the Kalakaua gym, was a symbol of comfort and joy. I still remember the sound of the truck arriving, struggling to come up with $2.50 for fried noodles, pork mince, and a soft drink.

But it wasn’t just the food that attracted us: it was the entire experience. The sense of community as children from Kalihi Kai Elementary, Kalakaua Middle School and Farrington Middle School lined up for an afternoon snack. The warmth of the van’s engine still running, the feeling of anticipation, and the kindness of Mr. Tran who always made sure we had something to eat, even if we didn’t have enough money. He wasn’t just a salesman; He was part of our lives.

When Mr. Tran passed away, it was not just a personal loss for those who knew him: it was a loss for the entire Kalihi community. Generations of children grew up visiting his truck after school and his absence left a void that could not be easily filled.

Now, with the closing of the Pearl City manapua truck, I am reminded again that these closings mark not only the end of a business but the end of a tradition that helped shape our connection to our neighborhoods.

What makes this moment even more bittersweet is that five years after Mr. Tran passed away, I am now a father of two children. As much as I cherish my childhood memories, it saddens me that my children won’t be able to experience what I experienced: growing up with a neighborhood Manapua man, eagerly waiting for that white van, and sharing simple, delicious food. with friends. These experiences shaped my sense of community and it is difficult to think that this tradition could disappear for the next generation.

The Manapua man didn’t just sell food: he represented a connection to something deeply local. At a time when chain stores and fast food joints dominate the dining scene, the manapua man was a reminder of the small family businesses that once thrived here.

These vendors symbolized hard work, resilience, and community. They carried on the legacy of the original Manapua men, Chinese workers who began selling steamed buns (char siu bao) to supplement their income during plantation days.

Fast-paced lifestyles

But as times change, so do the rhythms of daily life. Food trucks and vans like Tran’s manapua man and Pearl City are increasingly being replaced by the convenience of drive-thrus, national chains and delivery apps.

Our fast-paced lifestyles leave little room for the slower, simpler pleasures of waiting in line at the manapua van, chatting with the vendor, and enjoying a meal that’s as much about the experience as it is about the food.

It’s easy to think that these closures are inevitable. Times change and companies come and go.
But what makes these losses particularly poignant is that they reflect a broader shift in our local culture. The Manapua man wasn’t just selling food: he was fostering a sense of community.

Whether you’re an elementary school student looking for an afternoon snack or an adult craving your favorite childhood foods, you can always count on the manapua man to provide you with a feeling of home.

As we say goodbye to these beloved vendors, we should take a moment to reflect on what they stood for and how we can preserve that spirit. It’s not just about the food; it’s about the connections they fostered and the sense of community they built.

While modern fast food may satisfy an immediate craving, it will never replicate the joy of hearing the manapua van pull up on your street or the satisfaction of seeing a familiar face behind the plexiglass box.

These closures remind us that our local food traditions are fragile and need our support. As I raise my children, I hope they still find ways to connect with their community, even if the food scene is different than my own upbringing.

By supporting local businesses and sharing stories from the past, we can ensure that while the Manapua Man no longer roams our neighborhoods, his spirit will continue to live on in the hearts of the people of Hawaii.

To all the Manapua men and women of Hawaii, thank you for the memories. And to Mr. Tran, thank you for being a part of my childhood and for bringing comfort to our community. You will never be forgotten. I wish my children had known you like I did.