Kaʻahele Hawaiʻi

As told by Leilehua Yuen

There are many stories which tell how the naupaka blossom came to have its unusual shape. This is the one I have chosen to share because I believe it is one of the oldest. The chant on which it is based was composed in the mid 1600s or early 1700s for Oʻahu’s Chief Kualiʻi.

The moʻokuʻauhau, or genealogy, of the great chief Kualiʻi, who lived in the 1600s, opens with the three co-husbands, Opuʻukahonua, Lolomu, and Mihi, and with Lana, the wife and progenitress of the family line. The chant then leaps back in time to the mating of Wakea, the Sky Father, with Papa, the Earth Mother. This mating created all things in the cosmos as we know it today.

Wakea then mated with Kanananuʻukumamao, establishing a lineage of chiefs. This lineage included Kualiʻi of Oʻahu, famed for his battle prowess even into old age. When he was old, he became unable to walk. He ordered his men to weave a net for him. Placed in the net, he was carried into battle so he could continue to lead his warriors and to fight. Eventually, through conquest, marriage, and gifts, he became ruler of all the islands from Kauai in the north to Hawaiʻi in the south.

Kuali`i’s genealogy eventually led to Kamehameha Paiʻea, who united the Southern Hawaiian Islands into one kingdom, and negotiated with Kaumualiʻi, ruler of the northern Hawaiian islands, (Kauai, Niʻihau, Lehua, Mokumanamana, and the small islets) which became a tributary state.

An early ancestor of note is the legendary Naupaka, symbolized by the native plant which grows on the Hawaiian shoreline. Naupaka kahakai, Scaevola taccada, is indigenous to the Hawaiian Islands. It is found in coastal areas throughout the Pacific. Hardy and attractive, it is a commonly used landscaping plant. There are at least five different species of naupaka. All but the naupaka kahakai are endemic to Hawai`i, and evolved from it, moving up the mountain slopes into unique niches in the Hawaiian ecosystem.

The Naupaka of legend married the beautiful, but lower ranking, ʻŌhikimakaloa, named for the small crab which lives in the makaloa sedges growing in the intertidal zone.

Hoʻopiʻo (High Ranked Birth) had wanted ʻŌhikimakaloa as a lover. Hulumaniani (Feather Fan), had wanted to marry Naupaka. Hoʻopiʻo spread evil gossip about the bride, careful to be sure that Naupaka heard it. Hulumaniani fanned Naupaka’s jealousy, and he allowed his jealousy to overrule his reason.

ʻŌhikimakaloa, not understanding his anger toward her, tried to win back her husband with soft words and flower lei she wove with her own hands, but he would have nothing to do with her. She followed him from shore to mountain, and back again, entreating him with her words and gifts, but he tore them from his heart and neck, letting the broken blossoms fall to the ground where they grew into shrubs that continue to bloom with torn flowers today. Eventually ʻŌhikimakaloa headed back down the mountain.

Returning to her home in the sedges, she pined away, becoming more and more withdrawn until she looked like a small crab hiding in its shell.

At last, Naupaka returned to the sea, thinking he would distract himself with surfing. But the sea was flat and calm, not a wave in sight, brooding like himself. Hulumaniani came to him and tried to place a lei about her neck, but he rebuffed her. She then placed the lei on the neck of Hoʻopiʻo, and together they chanted a song of victory. Naupaka suddenly realized what had happened. He ran to the sedges where ʻŌhikimakaloa lived, but could not find her.  

Walking back up the beach alone, he sat staring out to sea until he turned into the shrub which bears his name. His face has the shape of the torn blossom, but you can tell he is still a chief, because under his chin he still wears the lei niho palaoa, emblem of royalty, that he wore as a man.

ʻŌhikimakaloa continues to live as a little crab in her sedge home at the water’s edge, but now that Naupaka understands the truth, she often runs up the beach to visit him and take shelter in the embrace of his branches and roots.

by Natalie Mahina and Lucia Terallo, copyright 2019

KEA
{Kauikeaouli}

Canto V
Mele Inoa no Kauikeaouli
Name Chant for Kauikeaouli

The Echo of our Song
[Puku’i/Korn pp. 14-28]

So, who is Kea in the chant? Is it Kauikeaouli? Is it Wākea? It seems to me that Wākea is amply defined…and separate from Kea—there is also the possibility that it could also be a double entendre, applying itself to Kauikeaouli, since it is his name chant. However, I believe the Kea spoken of in this first section is an Aspect of Haumea, the Earth Mother {Kea…Keakea… Keakealani; alluding to Nu’a-kea, the patron of lactation}, in which case, then the canto would make perfect sense, for you have the Loina Wahine giving birth and not the Loina Kāne {Nā Pule Kahiko, June Gutmanis, p. 11}. It is the Earth Mother that gives birth to everything upon it, including mountains. Not one and the same, Papahānumoku gives birth to the islands…Haumea gives birth to all that emanates from them.

So, is it…?

O hānau ka Mauna a Kea! 
To Kea {Haumea} was born the Mountain!

‘Ōpu’u a’e ka Mauna a Kea!
From Kea {Haumea} the Mauna was thrust upward!

Back to the classical pairing. In this portion we have the Loina Kane and Loina Wahine clearly defined, for somewhere in the poetry of this chant, there is not one without the other.

‘O Wākea ke kāne, ‘o Papa-o-wali-nu’u ka wahine!
Wākea the kāne, Papa-swelling-and-pliant, the wahine!

Hānau Ho’ohoku he wahine! {Ho’ohoku-o-ka-lani}
Came forth Ho’ohoku-producer-of-progeny, a wahine!

Hānau Hāloa he Ali’i!
Came forth Hāloa an Ali’i!

Hānau ka Mauna he keiki Mauna na Kea.
The Mauna brought forth a child, the Mauna emanating from Kea {Haumea}!

O ka līlī ‘o Wākea, o ka hai i ka hala,
Wākea shuddered—its emissions placed,

O ke kū kukū lā’au ana me Kāne,
Alongside Kāne, the shuddering of his rising hardness was satiated,

I ho’ouka ai iloko ‘o Kahikikū
Conveyed there within the sky above the horizon,

He’e Wākea, kālewa kona ‘ōhua,
Wākea flowed—his offspring moving with the wind,

Kuamū ‘ia e Kāne, ku’awa {‘awa’a} ‘ia e Kāne,
By means of Kāne, the rain-laden wind, by means of Kāne the many hills and vales,

Ho’i mau Wākea a loko o lani momoe,
Wākea returning time and time again to mate within the confines of the sky,

Moe Wākea, moe ‘ia Papa,
Wākea sleeping alongside Papa,

And here is the third break. Wākea brings forth the Sun, both being Loina Kāne. But who is the Sun in this section? Is it perhaps a metaphor for Kauikeaouli?

Hānau ka Lā na Wākea,
For Wākea, the Sun came forth,

He keiki kapu na Wākea,
For Wākea, the sacred child,

O ka uluna a Wākea—no Kea no,
An offshoot of Wākea—resulting from Kea {Haumea} indeed,

‘Oia ho’i hao ka Mauna—hānau ka Mauna,
So it was that the Mauna came forth with great force!

And since this is part of a lengthy Mele Inoa…it is only one segment of the whole of nature that is witness to the birth of Kauikeaouli, for Keauikeaouli is not only likened to the Mauna, but also the Sun.

O ka Mauna {or māuna} auane’i ko lalo nei,
Hereafter, the Mauna shall be below,

‘O wai auane’i ko luna lā?
Who shall be there above?

‘O ka Lā, ‘oia ho’i hā
It is the Sun after all!

The chant itself is a Mele Inoa to Kauikeaouli…there is no question about that…the chant has 7 stanzas…this particular stanza is number 5…although Wakea is mentioned in the canto, along with “his,” mate Papa…there is actually nothing that alludes him to Maunakea or that the mountain mentioned is Maunakea…I believe the poet intended the term Mauna, to be just that…”Mountain,” a collective, rather than a singular. The Kea mentioned at the opening of this canto and sprinkled throughout I also believe references Haumea, for she is also recognized as Kea…it was from the womb of Haumea that the Mauna {collective} is born. This entire epic has a classic signature in that you are taken through elemental signatures…the earth…the night…the island…the clouds…the mountain…the sun…and the ocean…the metaphor being that Kauikeaouli is recognized as part of the whole of nature…part of the birthing, sprouting, growing, flourishing.

Natalie Mahina and Lucia Tarallo are historians and artists specializing in pre-European-contact Hawaiian culture.

I follow Kumu Amy Stillman on FaceBook. She shares a lot of really interesting and informative stuff, and she is an awesome teacher and writer. Recently, she shared this article. That was followed by some discussion, so I decided to post my thoughts here.

I’ve never been to a gathering where people’s standards were so “low” they hired “Uncle.”

In my experience, the ʻAnakala playing music often had taught some of the musicians in the named band, and the band members were enjoying not having to work, but would jump in and jam sometimes.

But, yes, my ʻohana is VERY thankful that we have dear Japanese friends who help to support our work.

What I have noticed here, and it is mentioned somewhat obliquely in the article, is that the respect for education just does not seem to exist here in Hawaiʻi. Japan has a very high level of respect for education and educators.

My Japanese students are horrified if they see me schlepping gear or driving. They leap to help me so that I can focus on my role – teacher. During class breaks, they practice and check each other. They show up for class early, practice at home, and are prepared for class.
My local students show up late, have been known to stroll along behind me as I carry all the gear in, seem to think that class time is so we all can practice together rather than learn new material, and during breaks they are on their cell phones. I shut down my local classes for a few years.

We in Hawaiʻi have adopted the service economy mentality of industrialized/consumerist cultures. “I paid you, so it is your job to feed me knowledge.” In Japan, the attitude I get from students is, “Please accept this financial gift as our thanks for sharing with us.”
I think this may also address the issue of musician pay – the service economy “best bang for the buck,” plus least amount of work. If ʻAnakala is willing to do the job and set everything up, then no need worry. If ʻAnakala will give you a professional show for a plate of kalua pig and some beer, all the better.

Again, I’ve not personally seen this result in low quality music, but I DO see it result in low respect. Because some people forget that ʻAnakala did NOT perform for poke and beer or whatever. ʻAnakala and ʻAnakē performed for love of their ʻohana, and of their culture, and of their music. And THAT is what breaks my heart. That their aloha is disrespected.

It is truly heartwrenching to see them get more aloha and respect from an utter stranger than they do from their own ʻohana and neighbors.

Of course, this does not happen all the time, and there are people here who do honor our local entertainers and practitioners.

But, I see our culture changing from the aloha-based sharing, and honoring the sharing with gifts of food, drink, kōkua around the house, and kālā, to that service economy “best bang for the buck” attitude.

Lei are often associated with wahi pana, and so it is important to understand the place as well as the lei. At one time, the cinder cone of Hālaʻi, and the forests of Haili and Mokaulele were renowned for the beauty of their deep scarlet ʻōhiʻa-lehua, which were extolled in stories, chants, songs, and hula.

It is important that we understand the distinctions between these places. Today, many people call Hālaʻi, the puʻu, or cinder cone near Hilo Intermediate School, Haili Hill. It is not named Haili Hill. Haili was the forest at the base of the hill, which extended down toward where the Hilo Boys and Girls Club now stands. The hill is named Hālaʻi. “Hālaʻi” translates to English as “calm.” “Haili” is a sudden rememberance, or a ghost or spirit.

The lei lehua is the most famous lei of Punahoa and of Hilo. Many oli and mele honor this lei, and the environment in which it thrives.

The lei hala also is beloved in Hilo, especially in Panaʻewa. But it is usually associated with Puna and with Hiʻiakaikapoliopele.

Hālaʻi, Haili, and Mokaulele are part of the Punahoa ahupuaʻa, and their rains and waterways are critical to the plants and animals of this area. The upper portion of Punahoa shares the Pi`ihonua weather system, resulting in the “rain line” you may have noticed, which ends just above Lyman House, more or less at the Boys and Girls Club.

Rains of this area include:

Hukiheʻenehu, a fine rain which comes in from the ocean at early morning.

Lanipōlua, a fine rain with heavy dark clouds that settles in for the day.

Hālaulani, associates with the budding of the hala trees.

Palahīnano, associated with the blossoming of the hala trees.

Lehua, a chill, fragrant rain.

Kanilehua, a loud, drenching rain, and the most famous of Hilo’s rains.

You can learn more about the rains of Hawaiʻi in this excellent book:

Hāla`i [hah-LAH-ee] is the ancient name for the pu`u (hill/cindercone) across the street from Hilo Intermediate School. It is the home of Hinaikeahi [Hina-of-the-fire], a goddess of fire, and sister to Hinakuluua [Rain-drop-Hina], and Hina of the waterfall at Waiānuenue.

Hālaʻi was renowned for the beautiful deep red `ōhi`a-lehua which bloomed , and for the strength of its `ohe, bamboo, which was exceptionally long and strong. Unfortunately, when the hill was cleared for development, all of the beautiful `ōhi`a-lehua and the  unique type of native bamboo was destroyed. The bamboo we see covering the mauka side of  Hāla`i today is an invasive temperate region species which was planted on  here in the late 80s.

Haili was an ancient `ōhi`a forest which no longer exists. Haili church was built from `ōhi`a timbers logged from this forest. The church was then named for the forest, a common naming practice at the time. The forest was pretty much logged out, and then what was left was made into sugar fields. What is now Haili Street was known as Church Street at first, and then when this area was developed, my understanding is that the Haili Church membership either paid for paving and extension of the street, or took a lead in accomplishing that, so the street was named for the church. Or, it may have been named for the forest, as the street terminates near where the forest edge once was.

Mokaulele forest still has remnants near ʻImiloa Astronomy Center, and extending ma uka of Komohana, but with continuing development, even this may soon be gone as well.