At the Intersection: A Story Still Being Written
Pāhoa Publishing lives at an intersection of place, purpose, and creativity.
I was born and raised on Oʻahu, and had the privilege of spending my early days across Hauʻula, Maunalua, and Waʻialae Nui, before moving to Kaimukī at nine years old. Pāhoa Avenue intersects the street I grew up on there. It is a literal crossing point in my life story and also a symbolic one. If you followed that street all the way down toward the ocean, you would arrive at the shores of Waikīkī, the place that raised me.
Waikīkī is where I grew up surfing, paddling out at Kapuni and Queens. Those early days in the water shaped how I see the world and how I move through it. The streets I grew up on eventually intersects with Kaluahole, a place where I now spend my free time hydrofoiling, moving differently across the same ocean I fell in love with. Surf to foil, diving to fishing, past to present, land to sea — these intersections mirror my journey.
The word pāhoa carries layered meanings in Hawaiian: a short dagger or sharp stone, a tool, a marker of protection, it is also tied to moʻolelo of a moʻo that was defeated in this area, giving the place its name.
That meaning resonates deeply with me. My last name translates to warrior, and Pāhoa Publishing is, in many ways, a tribute to my father, the person who moved our family to Kaimukī and shaped the life I would go on to live. Losing him as a young teen left a lasting mark, but it also instilled a quiet strength and sense of responsibility that continues to guide my work.
As a kid I would ride my bike to Waikīkī Beach and explore streams on the way. Aunties and uncles on the beach looked out for me and generously shared knowledge with me. From them, I learned the rhythms of the ocean, the intelligence of the land, and how to move through the world with awareness, care, and respect. As I got older, I came to understand that not every child growing up in Hawaiʻi has access to this kind of place-based learning. Motherhood and teaching within the DOE grounded that understanding in daily practice and lived responsibility. That realization stayed with me and continues to shape everything I create.
When I became a STEM enrichment teacher in 2022 without a set curriculum, I began creating my own: hands-on, joyful lessons rooted in Hawaiʻi’s landscapes. This work draws from my academic and creative journey through Hawaiian Studies, Natural Resource Management, and Graphic Design, and is now grounded in graduate studies in Education with a focus on place-based and sustainability. That instinct to pass along knowledge in a way that feels real and alive led me to form a nonprofit through which I share material and donate my intellectual property to Title I schools who want it.
Today, Pāhoa Publishing is my creative home. It is where educational books meet ocean-inspired art, where seashell collections turn into patterns and designs, and where hydrofoiling culture becomes playful merchandise. From children’s books and curriculum resources to apparel, home goods, and surface design, everything I create is connected by a love of place and a belief that learning and creativity are forms of stewardship.
Teaching in Hawaiʻi is the most rewarding work I know. It never feels like just a job. But like many educators, I have had to find creative ways to support my family while honoring my kuleana to share what I have learned. Pāhoa Publishing exists in that space as a sustainable extension of my teaching, my artistry, and my responsibility to this place and the next generation. I am a student for life, always learning, listening, observing and growing.
This work would not be possible without the guidance and generosity of influential people who helped shape this path. I am deeply grateful to my mentor and friend Pauline Chinn, My Hanai dad Rodney Cazimero, and my high school teacher and coach Scott Shibuya, whose mentorship, wisdom, and belief in this work continue to inform how I teach, create, and lead.
Mahalo for being here :)




Founder Candide Krieger riding a wave at Queens in Waikīkī when she worked as a surf instructor.


“In the end, we will conserve only what we love; we will love only what we understand; and we will understand only what we are taught"
-Baba Dioum
