Recap: Zed’s Efforts in the Aftermath of Hurricane Lala
Update coming soon. Please bear with us as we update this “new” news section of
In the aftermath of Hurricane Lala, community restoration began with people willing to step forward, carry the burden and stay for the long road ahead.
Update coming soon. Please bear with us as we update this “new” news section of the website with our regular activities. Zed is incredibly active on Facebook – (https://www.facebook.com/zed4hawaii) – and we have a whole lot of stories to tell here. Mahalo!
——-
Before the winds had fully settled and while heavy rain was still falling across Kaʻū, Zed Kaʻapana Aki was already outside working.
It was the first morning after Hurricane Lala made landfall. Fallen trees and storm debris blocked major roads through Ocean View, cutting neighbors off from one another and making an already dangerous situation even more uncertain. Zed began clearing those roads because people needed a way through.
At the time, Zed was the only candidate for Hawaiʻi County Council District 6 visibly engaged in the immediate community response. But in those first hours leading into day, and then weeks, campaigning was beside the point. The needs were urgent. Roads had to be opened. Families had to be reached. Supplies had to move. Kaʻū needed hands on the ground.
Once passage through Ocean View became more open, Zed turned his attention to rescue, relief and recovery.
Māmalahoa Highway was blockaded near the Ocean View lookout, preventing normal access into Waiʻōhinu and Nāʻālehu. Farther east, reports began reaching Zed from contacts in Pāhala, where residents were also isolated and in need. With communities separated by storm damage and information arriving slowly, he headed toward Kona to secure whatever essential supplies he could find.
The Ocean View Market parking lot became a makeshift response zone. From there, food, drinking water, ice, gasoline, propane, baby supplies and hygiene products could be sorted and passed into the hands of families who needed them. Contacts from Waiʻōhinu and Nāʻālehu used off-road vehicles to cross areas that ordinary vehicles could not safely navigate, meeting Zed to carry resources back into communities beyond the blockades.
It was not a polished emergency operation organized by government. It was neighbors creating a lifeline in real time.
In the days that followed, Zed continued running supplies from early morning until late at night. He helped establish the Ocean View Response and Resilience Hub at the Ocean View Community Center while continuing to support distribution efforts in Pāhala and the Nāʻālehu–Waiʻōhinu area.
The work demanded constant movement: locating scarce goods, purchasing supplies, loading vehicles, driving long distances, answering calls for help and finding ways around damaged or obstructed routes. Yet the true measure of the response was not the number of trips made. It was whether a family had water, whether a baby had diapers, whether a kūpuna could keep vital equipment running and whether an isolated household knew it had not been forgotten.
Community members later described receiving that care firsthand. Families recalled that the supplies, fuel cans and generators delivered to them came without charge. One parent shared that Zed went beyond a standard supply run to purchase fruits and vegetables for her autistic children. Others remembered his upbeat spirit and humor — small but meaningful sources of relief during days filled with exhaustion, uncertainty and grief.
Again and again, residents described the same pattern: when a need was raised, Zed and his ʻohana tried to meet it.
As mainstream coverage failed to convey the full extent of the damage and hardship across Kaʻū, Zed used his public platform to share what residents were actually experiencing.
That mattered. When a rural community’s suffering is minimized or overlooked, the consequences are not merely about public perception. Outside assistance can be delayed. Urgent needs can remain invisible. Families already struggling through a disaster can be left feeling as though they must also prove that their hardship is real.
Zed communicated from inside the response — not from a distance. He shared the conditions he encountered, amplified requests for help and connected outside concern with specific needs on the ground. His updates helped turn public attention into food, fuel, equipment and direct support.
As outages stretched on, electricity became more than a matter of convenience. For residents with medical conditions, disabled community members and kūpuna dependent on powered equipment, stable electricity could be a matter of health and safety.
Working with the Kaʻū-based nonprofit ʻApoākea Native Hawaiian Innovation Institute, Zed helped direct outside donations toward the purchase and distribution of generators for residents with critical needs. Testimonials describe generators reaching families, a disabled veteran and other residents who could not safely endure an extended outage.
The support was given freely. Zed also used his personal savings to purchase resources when needs continued to outpace available assistance. He did not stop when the initial surge of public attention began to fade. Weeks after landfall, he was still securing and distributing supplies.
That persistence mattered because disasters do not end when the storm passes. They continue in darkened homes, damaged businesses, spoiled food, disrupted medical care, exhausted families and the long, uneven work of rebuilding.
Relief work must keep people alive, but recovery must also give people a reason to lift their heads again.
In the middle of that difficult period, Zed and ʻApoākea organized the Great Kaʻū Pizza Party. More than 300 pizzas were purchased and distributed across the district, feeding thousands of residents.
On paper, it was a meal. In practice, it was something more.
It gave families a break from worrying about the next plate of food. It created a moment for neighbors to gather, see familiar faces and share something warm. It reminded communities carrying weeks of stress that joy still had a place in recovery. Residents spoke of tears that held sorrow, relief and healing all at once.
That is part of resilience too — not pretending that everything is fine, but making room for hope while the hard work continues.
By the third week, Zed was working alongside other community heroes to clear storm debris and remove damage from homes and businesses. Nearly a month after Hurricane Lala, he remained in the field — delivering supplies, helping residents recover and doing the physical work required to make properties safe again.
No honest account of Kaʻū’s response belongs to one person. It belongs to the residents who checked on neighbors, the volunteers who cleared roads, the people who drove across damaged terrain, the organizations and donors who supplied resources, and the families who endured the storm and began rebuilding together. Zed’s work was crucial because it strengthened that larger community effort. He listened, connected people and resources, filled gaps and kept showing up.
Residents noticed. They spoke not only about what was delivered, but how it was delivered: with aloha, urgency, humor and respect. They saw Zed’s wife and ʻohana serving alongside him. They saw long days, sleepless nights and personal sacrifice. Most of all, they saw action behind words.
Hurricane Lala exposed vulnerabilities that people in Kaʻū have understood for generations. The district’s communities are geographically distant, infrastructure is fragile, emergency access can be severed quickly and government resources do not always arrive with the speed or scale the moment requires. The storm did not create these inequities. It revealed how dangerous they can become in a crisis.
For Zed, the response to Lala cannot end with cleanup. It must lead to a serious reckoning over how Hawaiʻi County prepares for, communicates with and supports its rural communities before, during and long after a disaster.
Kaʻū deserves emergency plans shaped by people who understand its roads, distances and isolated communities. It deserves resilient supply and communication networks, locally accessible equipment, stronger coordination with trusted community organizations, and public leadership that will tell the truth about conditions on the ground. Above all, it deserves a government that does not leave residents to overcome systemic neglect through personal sacrifice alone.
The clearest lesson of Hurricane Lala is that leadership is not a title claimed in comfortable times. It is a responsibility carried when the road is blocked, the lights are out, the rain is still falling and someone is waiting for help.
Zed Kaʻapana Aki showed up on the first morning. He kept showing up through the long days that followed. And as Kaʻū continues to restore its homes, livelihoods and sense of security, he remains committed to the work ahead—because recovery is not complete until every part of Kaʻū has been seen, supported and given a fair chance to heal.
Update coming soon. Please bear with us as we update this “new” news section of