Bringing the spirit of Aloha from Hawaii to Munster
Even before Roman Salanoa returned to his Hawaiian island home this summer, he knew that the parting would be the saddest of them all.
he mother who not only gave him life, the most precious gift of all, but encouraged him to fulfil it, was embarking upon a peaceful pilgrimage that was slowly ending her time on earth.
He would have rowed a canoe home with a pair of forks for oars just to see her one last time.
He had the comfort of family and friends as they gathered in expectant mourning; his presence a reminder of all the loving sacrifices Colinda had made for the youngest of the five boys she had raised with husband Molia.
Colinda had an enlarged heart; it seems so tragically grim an irony. That is because in the north shore town of Laie, almost every one of its 903 households could relate to her boundless compassion.
“She had been sick for a couple of years,” says Salanoa, sitting amongst the festive dress-up of a Limerick hotel, its cheery music at odds with tumbling memories of deep loss.
“It was up and down, she’d get sick and then she’d get better then she’d get sick again. She had Covid in March and yet managed to beat that. But it took its toll on her. She was struggling a lot.
“Selfishly, I was kind of grateful to be home for a week before it happened. July is the only time we get extended holidays so I was really thankful to be able to spend time with family and be amongst the support group. There was some comfort in that togetherness.
“Munster were very good with me. They said I could take my time and I wasn’t obligated to return at a specific day. They were really supportive in helping me process everything.”
Munster are a province familiar with grief, too.
“It’s been a real emotional rollercoaster for the last few months after I’ve been back. But the good thing about this ‘job’ is the routine, it keeps you busy.
“It’s hard not to think about your mother all the time so it is nice to have rugby as a different focus. And luckily I’m more involved this year so I’ve been able to move from game to game. And then I can call my family when I need to.
“For me, it was just nice she was able to see how my career progressed. A lot of it for me being over here is having the opportunity to lighten the load back home, help the food bill.
“Growing up, we never thought we were poor or middle-class because we were all in the same boat. You don’t notice who is poor or wealthy. It was a happy place to be.
“But it’s nice to be able to help my family fend for themselves a bit better. It’s an expensive place to live, the cost of living bears no relation to salaries.”
These are more than mere remittances but profound acknowledgements of a family’s faith and support.
Without it, he would not be in Thomond Park tomorrow. But how did he get here?
It all started with a question and an answer. His Kahuku High School were short on numbers for the rugby team. Would he fill in?
Like his brothers and cousins and friends, NFL was the all-encompassing aim for these dreamers – the NFL houses over 20 Kahuku alumni – and Salonoa’s yellow brick road would start in Division 2 football amongst the Utah mountains on the mainland.
There was a risk of injury but community binds stronger than the self in Hawaii, a territory which had to fend for itself alone for centuries before being discovered by outsiders.
‘Aloha’ is not just a greeting but a state of being, emphasising the need for the citizens to help each other in times of distress. It is so integral that in 1986, the concept of Aloha was enshrined in law.
And so the answer had to be yes.
He had messed around with touch on the beach since before his schooldays so he had a vague idea of the game he was now being asked to play but not necessarily how best to play it.
Only one thing was obvious. He loved every minute of it. At 18, six feet tall and weighing 17 stone, he was built for an oval-ball game. He’d been a running back and a defensive line, either focusing on carrying or tackling. But now this was a game where he could do everything.
Fate would intercede but he needed Colinda and the family to help him respond to it. You see, Roman was a laid-back kid.
Indeed, Hawaiians generally are a placid race. Recently the governor resigned, recalling proudly that he had overseen 42 state of emergency declarations in a decade.
“Earthquakes, tsunamis, lightning, hurricanes, you name it,” Salanoa shrugs. “We’re in the ring of fire, surrounded by all these tectonic plates. So we’re just like, okay, what’s next?”
Once, there was a nuclear missile alert which turned out to be false; the governor couldn’t amend it as he’d forgotten his Twitter password. Easy come.
And so when USA U-20s coach JD Stephenson, enthused by the astounding promise of the fledgling, sent Salanoa an email inviting him to a World Cup trophy training camp in 2016, he ignored it until his teacher alerted his parents.
“I wasn’t being arrogant. I just didn’t want to be a financial burden to my family. They said there are options.
“I didn’t understand how big this opportunity was. In my head, I only saw the difficulties. So the aunties and uncles all clubbed together and two of my high school coaches worked on the airline so that took care of the air fares.
“We lived next to a golf course and I used to sell sodas and candys. Every cent helped. Things just kind of shot off and one thing led to another. Six months later I’m in that tournament in Zimbabwe having just turned 18. Breaking into that scene was just huge.”
And then, just as suddenly as events had spooled in one direction, everything stopped.
Having spurned the NFL too, he worked in a Polynesian Cultural Centre as a maintenance man, much like his father had done before him in the local university. Farewell sport, hello reality.
Late in 2016, another email landed. This time, from former Ireland coach Eddie O’Sullivan and RTÉ producer Wes Liddy, both of whom had been alerted by their US contacts about this impressive prop.
“I’m thinking, ‘Ireland? That’s a good one!’,” smiles Salanoa. Then his coach intervened again.
“Are you still ignoring your email?” he hectored. “You don’t understand Roman. USA was big but to get a trial in Ireland is huge!”
Colinda, as always, was his lodestar. Mum’s the word. And so he pitched up with the families of Leinster duo Seán and Harry McNulty in the fierce winter of 2016. He didn’t know if he’d done enough to impress. Suffice to say the next time he got and email, he didn’t ignore it.
Fortune has showered his path with breadcrumbs. “And I didn’t leave too much behind,” he guffaws, appreciating the formidable frame shoehorned into an ill-fitting chair.
“It reminds me of seeing some of my class-mates playing College Football. Sometimes I think that could have been me but life took a different path once I played that game of rugby. It’s surreal how it worked out.
“I doubted I would have been NFL quality but it’s one of those questions you never know. But it’s not something that I get stuck on. I had a lot of help from other people. But still, if I had said no to that game of rugby, it could have been a very different lifestyle for me.”
Leinster were sore to lose him in 2020 but there was heavy traffic in front of him at tight-head. Now he has Irish hopes too, perhaps a World Cup bow, after featuring in recent training camps.
“Definitely. I even laugh a bit when I see the Instagram page of Irish rugby and they have the kick-off time in Hawaii. To play for Ireland would be amazing.”
Before the world, there is Europe. And Toulouse tomorrow.
“Last year tells you everything about this tie,” he says, referring to the agonising Dublin penalty kick loss.
“It’s exciting. We already know how big a week it is. We know what’s ahead. This is where Munster come alive but we can’t go into our shell. We need to embrace it.”
He will prep early and often and let the week flow into the moment. Then he can fire himself on.
“I can find the balance, when to be on, when to be off. I know when to flip the switch. Because if you don’t, you’ll get left behind.”
He has come too far for that to happen. And, as always, there will be a light somewhere from above tracing his every step.
Tickets for Munster v Toulouse are available to purchase online on munsterrugby.ie up until kick off. Family Packs for €50, adult from €25, juniors from €12.50
