The Long Game: Pena Farm
Written & Photographed by Sarah Burchard
Videography by Reel World Filmmakers
Thousands of Filipinos relocate to Hawaiʻi every year.
In 1906 the first sakadas, or contract laborers, were enlisted to come work the sugarcane fields. By the 1930s Filipinos made up the highest percentage of plantation workers and the lowest paid of all ethnicities.
Gil Pena’s grandfather and uncles were amongst these men.
In 1990, Pena accompanied his mother, father, and two sisters to O’ahu to join them. A mission that took decades.
Gil Pena showing off his vines of long beans, which he likes to simmer in coconut milk with pumpkin and shrimp and serve with rice
On his namesake farm in Kunia, Pena shares his familyʻs story and describes his personal journey from his early years in the Philippines to his life now as a husband, father, farmer, and business owner on Oʻahu. Later, at the Pacific Gateway Center Culinary Business Incubator Kitchen, Pena teaches us his familyʻs version of Pinakbet – a classic Filipino dish made with pork belly and a variety of vegetables.
Before Pena took over Papaya and banana trees took over the majority of the farm
To understand Pena’s story it is helpful to acknowledge the history of Filipinos coming to Hawai’i. Opportunities to come over fluctuated heavily after the arrival of the first 15 sakadas in 1906. During the U.S. annexation of the Philippines, workers were contracted in droves, but war would continuously cause ebb and flow.
In 1932 an Act was passed by Congress declaring Filipinos ineligible for U.S. citizenship. An immigration quota was instituted allowing only 100 Filipinos per year to immigrate to Hawaiʻi.
When the Philippines regained independence in 1946 it also marked the last year for sakadas.
In 1965 the Immigration and Nationality Act was passed and the quotas were eliminated. Until then, the U.S. wanted young, single men, not men who were married with families. Now, immigration started to flow more freely, signifying a time in U.S. history when immigrants were welcomed and valued.
However, immigration was, and still is, extremely challenging. Pena’s uncle submitted the petition for Penaʻs fatherʻs Visa in 1970. Even with the Act in place the process still took 20 years.
During this time the Philippines was under Martial Law. There were no other opportunities for Pena and his family there, but to farm.
“Itʻs pretty hard,” Pena said. “We grow rice. Thatʻs how I grew up. I started when I was 6 years old. We have to plant the rice right? Plant it and then just dig it and plant it again.”
Pena endured 10 years of backbreaking work during his childhood waiting for his fatherʻs Visa to go through. He was 16 when they finally came to Oʻahu.
Pena has six brothers and sisters, but only he and two sisters were able to accompany his mother and father. The rest of his siblings had to stay behind.
“I donʻt know how the Visa works. They were over age and they got married, so they couldnʻt come in,” he said. “You have to petition them and then you have to wait.”
It took another 15 years for two of his brothers to acquire Visas after petitions were submitted. One now lives in Alaska and the other is on Oʻahu, which leaves another brother and sister still in the Philippines tending the rice farm.
For his okra, Pena enjoys it grilled and seasoned with calamansi and fish sauce
Pena and his family quickly assimilated to life in Hawai’i as best as they could. Pena attended Waipahu High School, while his mom and dad worked the Del Monte Pineapple Plantation. His first job in the U.S. was cooking noodles in a Japanese restaurant called Hanako at Ala Moana Shopping Center. Soon he met his wife Vaneza and became a warehouse worker in the receiving department of a hospital. They both worked two jobs, but struggled to make ends meet. So, they decided to go into business for themselves.
They started by selling produce at Aloha Stadium’s open market, eventually moving into a brick-and-mortar store in Waipahu. But, the shop didn’t survive and they soon found themselves back working open markets again.
During this time the couple started farming on the side, while patiently keeping an ear to the ground for the next opportunity.
“Then we had a chance,” Pena said. “So we took it.”
The chance was a space inside of the Chinatown Marketplace in Honolulu where they have been selling Filipino ingredients for the past two years.
Vaneza and Gill Pena (photo courtesy of Gil Pena)
“We were getting produce from everybody around this area – Kunia farms,” he said. “I get some produce from Kasy. I get from Catalina. I get from Pelon. I go around. We sell groceries, like, for Filipino dishes, like the fish sauce. Mostly Filipino stuff we sell there. Noodles, like pancit.”
Pena digging up mountain yams
Pena and his wife took over a plot at the Pacific Gateway Center Farm after a shady business deal eventually forced them out of their previous farm.
“Actually it’s sad, because we got fooled from other farm next door and they told us we have like a five year contract, but right after that, I guess too, its messed up, it’s too messed up, and all of the sudden, like, we got kicked out over there …
... It sucks you know, thatʻs our mistakes too you know? I should know better. For some reason I didnʻt ask for a contract, you know?”
On a weathered wooden deck adorned with empty buckets, igloo coolers, and trays of seedlings barely ready to be transferred to the field, a scattering of chicken feathers lay at Pena’s feet. Remnants of a fresh kill and a good dinner.
Pena Farm is still in transition. Pena took over last Spring and is slowly clearing out the old to make way for the new.
He started with okra, eggplant, mountain yam, and a variety of legumes. Long beans for Pinakbet. Kardis, or pigeon peas, for stewing with pork and malunggay. Mung beans for Monggo.
Malunggay (moringa), an important staple in Filipino cuisine
Pena grows sweet potatoes for the greens alone, turning them into salads composed of fresh shoots mixed with chopped tomato and fish sauce. There is even a bay leaf tree for seasoning Filipino Adobo.
Under a canopy of several different types of banana trees lay a healthy taro patch bursting with purple and green leaves. Pena and his wife peel and slice the corms at their shop and sell them in “ready-to-cook” packages.
Pena in his taro patch
“I want to grow a variety of vegetables, but I donʻt have that much land,” Pena said.
Pena acquired the farm from an elderly woman who was ready to retire. Mostly, it was a fruit orchard when he arrived full of pomegranate trees and past-their-prime papaya and banana trees.
Pena prepares banana flowers by removing the bitter center, boiling them and mixing them with greens to serve alongside fried fish
For his Pinakbet he uses vegetables grown on his farm as well as vegetables grown by his Pacific Gateway Farm neighbors.
The vegetables he selects make all the difference. Tiny okra, small enough to leave whole, so they donʻt release slime into the pot. Baby bitter melon, so young it has not yet had a chance to fully develop its seeds. Eggplant, so short and skinny they only need to be cut in half.
Pena’s Pinakbet
In the kitchen Pena preps the vegetables like he is still on his farm. Standing away from his cutting board he holds vegetables in one hand, while slicing them down just far enough to split them in half, but not go all the way through with the other. Even with this precarious positioning his blade never touches his hand. He continues with the bitter melon, quartering it, but leaving a hinge at the bottom, so that it opens up like a flower.
It is not just a force of habit, this technique actually helps the vegetables hold their integrity while they are being cooked down in one heavy mass.
A smile stretched the width of Pena’s face as he introduced his favorite fish sauce – the main seasoning agent in Filipino cuisine, often used in place of salt. E-Mars Brand is made with boneless fish, taking on a lighter, almost milky color as opposed to the black fish sauces more commonly seen in most grocery stores. Tirong, as it is translated to, is made in Pangasinan – where Pena is originally from. A taste, no doubt of his childhood.
Pena chose Pinakbet – named after the way the vegetables shrivel up after they are cooked down – because he believes it is mostly what Filipinos love to eat.
“Pretty much every time we have a party, like, family party, I usually cook that. Every time we have a party Pinakbetʻs always there.”
Chef Paul Matsumoto and his team making 200 portions of Pinakbet for We Are Oceania – an organization that serves Micronesian Communities in Hawaiʻi.
It is just Pena and his wife running the shop and the farm. The couple has two kids, but they mostly focus on school and only visit the farm during school breaks. He is thankful for his wife, who he says has supported him all the way.
“Right now we donʻt have that much employee,” Pena said. “There is just one in training, so she has to stay there [the shop] and I have to stay here [the farm] by myself. She only comes here after she finish, you know, closes the store. She do mostly all the planting. Cause me if I plant for some reason I donʻt know, it doesnʻt grow, so she does all the planting. [Laughs]
Seedlings to be eventually planted into the field by Vaneza Pena
Pena says it is worth it. The coupleʻs new farm is the most viable job they have ever had. After a lifetime of hard work and waiting, Pena appears truly content.
“Farming is hard work, but it’s fun, Pena said. “I start loving farming now. I learned from my friends, from most of the farmers. And they tell me how to do it.”
Pena says he will never move back to the Philippines.
“Iʻm good here,” he said. “Iʻm settled. Maybe I just go there for vacation, that's it. Cause I havnʻt been there in like 17 years. Take my kids...”
Pena Farm is located in the Pacific Gateway Center Farms in Kunia on Oʻahu. You can purchase their produce from their shop inside the Chinatown Market Place at City Square Shopping Center in Honolulu.
Pena Farm Market
Chinatown Market Place
1199 Dillingham Blvd Unit 103A
Honolulu, HI 96817
Learn more regarding the timeline of Filipinos in Hawaiʻi here.