No Na- Mamo

Traditional and Contemporary

Hawaiian Beliefs and Practices

Malcolm Nāea Chun

 No Nā Mamo  i

No Nā Mamo
ii  Illustrations

Other Books by Malcolm Nāea Chun

From First People’s Productions

Must We Wait in Despair, The 1867 Report of the ‘Ahahui Lā‘au
Lapa‘au of Wailuku, Maui on Native Hawaiian Health
Nā Kukui Pio ‘Ole, The Inextinguishable Torches: The Biographies
of Three Early Native Hawaiian Scholars: Davida Malo, S. N.
Hale‘ole and S. M. Kamakau
It Might Do Good: The Licensing of Medicinal Kāhuna
From the Hawai‘i Department of Health
Ka Mo‘olelo Laikini La‘au Lapa‘au, The History of Licensing
Traditional Native Practitioners
From Bess Press
Hawaiian Medicine Book, He Buke Laau Lapaau
From the Queen Lili‘uokalani Children’s Center
He Buke Mele Kamali‘i no ka Mō‘īwahine o Lili‘uokalani,
A Children’s Songbook in Honor of Queen Lili’uokalani
Translations
Native Hawaiian Medicine, Vol. III (David Kaluna M.
Ka‘aiakamanu.)
The History of Kanalu: Mo‘okū‘auhau ‘Elua. (Benjamin K.
Nāmakaokeahi)
Ka Mo‘olelo Hawai‘i, Hawaiian Traditions (Davida Malo)
Nā Mea Hunahuna o ka Nūhou: Selected Articles from the
Hawaiian Language Newspapers
 No Nā Mamo  iii

No Nā Mamo
Traditional and Contemporary Hawaiian Beliefs and Practices

Malcolm Nāea Chun

University of Hawai‘i Press

and
Curriculum Research & Development Group,
College of Education, University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa
Honolulu
iv  Illustrations

© 2011 by the Curriculum Research & Development Group,

College of Education, University of Hawai‘i
and University of Hawai‘i Press
All rights reserved
Printed in the United States of America

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Chun, Malcolm Naea.
No na mamo : traditional and contemporary Hawaiian beliefs and practices /
Malcolm Naea Chun.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-0-8248-3624-5 (hardcover : alk. paper)
1. Hawaiian philosophy. 2. Hawaiians—Social life and customs.
I. Title.
DU624.65.C47 2011
996.9—dc22 2011016425
CIP

Prior written permission must be obtained from the Curriculum Research &
Development Group to reproduce or transmit this work or portions thereof in any
form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including any information storage
or retrieval system, unless expressly permitted by federal copyright law.

This book builds on the work produced as part of Pihana Nā Mamo: The Native
Hawaiian Special Education Project (Grant Number: H221A000002) funded by the
U.S. Department of Education under the Native Hawaiian Education Program.

Text design and composition by Wayne M. Shishido, Publication Specialist, CRDG

Printed by Sheridan Books, Inc.

Distributed by University of Hawai‘i Press

2840 Kolowalu Street
Honolulu, HI 96822-1888
[Link]
 No Nā Mamo  v

In Dedication & Memorial

Ho‘ola‘a ‘ia me ka Ho‘omana‘o

Whether I do right or wrong, I do not know; but I follow my faith

which cannot be wicked, as it commands me never to do wrong.
–Kamehameha to Kotzebue, 1816

I dedicate this book to the many people who let me experience

our culture and who taught me what they know. Some of these
people I name here so that their memory will not be lost and their
tenure among us will not have been insignificant.
William Nāea and Lily Akana, Emmaline Lau-Kong Young, Aina
Keko‘olani Keawe, Aldeline Maunupau Lee, Shigeru Naramoto, Mary
Lindsey, David Ka‘alakea, Moses K. Keale, Sr., Mary Kawena Pukui,
Alice K. Holokai, George Holokai, Beatrice Kerr, Richard “Papa”
Lyman, Jr., Andy Cummings, Malia Solomon, Rachel Mahuiki,
Henry Auwae, Annie Kanahele, Elaine Mullaney, Charlie and Pua
Hopkins, Eleanor Horswill Williamson, Alice Namakelua, John
Keola Lake, Annie Brewster and Lilian Spencer, Johnny K. Almeida,
Whakahuihui Vercoe, Donald Anderson, Rudy Leikaimana Mitchell,
Hokulani Meatoga, Mary Lou Kekuewa, Manuhuia Bennett, Gabby
Pahinui, Maiki Aiu Lake, Lydia Nāmahana Maioho, Beatrice Krauss,
Po‘omaikelani Kawananakoa, Albert and Bessie Like, Grace Cora
Oness, Kenneth and Marae Emory, Henry Nalaielua, Herb Kawainui
Kane, and Abraham Pi‘ianāi‘a.
This book is also dedicated to one of the most enthusiastic
supporters of the Pihana Nā Mamo project and to Hawaiian culture.
Cal Sakata was a special education teacher in the Hawai‘i Department
of Education. He came to all our retreats to give of himself, setting up
equipment and even learning how to cook so he could be among us.
Not a Hawaiian himself, Cal embodied the virtues and values set out
in this book simply because he believed in them.
vi  Illustrations

CRDG Pihana Nā Mamo Staff

Morris K. Lai, Principal Investigator
Hugh H. Dunn, Pihana Nā Mamo Director
Malcolm N. Chun, Cultural Specialist
Robin M. Clark, Graphic Artist
Terry Ann F. Higa, Internal Evaluator
Lillian M. Kido, Support Specialist
Susan York, Data Specialist
Mark C. Yap, Media Specialist
Lilette Subedi, Curriculum Specialist

Hawai‘i Department of Education

Pihana Nā Mamo Staff
Gloria S. Kishi, Pihana Nā Mamo Director
Cynthia L. H. Choy, Makua Hānai Coordinator
JoAnn Kaakua, Kāko‘o Coordinator
Maggie Hanohano, Heluhelu Coordinator
Doreen K. Yamashiro, Data Coordinator

CRDG Production Staff

Lori Ward, Managing Editor
Lehua Ledbetter, Copyrights
Jeanne Keuma, Editorial Assistant
Meredith Lee, Editorial Assistant
Wayne M. Shishido, Book Design, Cover Design, and Layout
Robin M. Clark, Cover Design
Jaret K. C. Leong, Production Coordinator

CRDG Administration
Donald B. Young, Director
Kathleen F. Berg, Associate Director
 No Nā Mamo  vii

Contents

Illustrations ix
Foreword: Ka ‘Ōlelo Mua xvii
Editor’s Preface: Ka ‘Ōlelo Mua o ka Mea Ho‘oponopono xix
Preface: ‘Ōlelo Ha‘i Mua xxiii
1 Pono: The Way of Living 1
2 Aloha: Traditions of Love and Affection 14
3 Welina: Traditional and Contemporary Ways of Welcome
and Hospitality 46
4 A‘o: Educational Traditions 84
5 Ola: Traditional Concepts of Health and Healing 115
6 Ho‘oponopono: Traditional Ways of Healing to Make
Things Right Again 143
7 Ho‘omana: Understanding the Sacred and Spiritual 167
8 Alaka‘i: Traditional Leadership 199
9 Kākā‘ōlelo: Traditions of Oratory and Speech Making 227
10 Ho‘onohonoho: Traditional Ways of Cultural Management 252
11 Kapu: Gender Roles in Traditional Society 289
12 Hewa: The Wrong Way of Living 314
13 Afterword 346
Appendix: Hearing for a Deeper Understanding of
Indigenous Knowledge: Things We Learned from
Publishing Indigenous Material 355
Bibliography 367
Index 377
viii  Illustrations
 No Nā Mamo  ix

Illustrations

Several of us involved in this project, and myself in particular,

have been amazed at what could be learned from looking at the
images and journals of the earlier European and American explorers,
even after all the “Cook books” and other historical analyses that
have been written. Many of those authors were not intimately
acquainted with Hawaiian culture, and, although their analyses reveal
some exciting details, more can be elicited from a careful study.
I have been so taken with the images that I made special trips to
the Dixson Library in Sydney, Australia and to the British Library
and the British Museum Archives in London, England to see first-
hand some of the original images Webber drew or painted during his
visit as a member of Captain Cook’s crew. The details in these images
open your eyes to a different world than the one we learned of only
through black and white prints. It is for this reason that we have
devoted a section of this book to those original drawings, in color, if
available, and in enlarged detail.
Over the years, it has been typical for publications to include
full engravings, usually in black and white. A few books, either very
academic or expensive coffee table books, have published colored
engravings or original drawings. However, it is apparent that artists
like Webber and Choris made multiple sketches of the scenes or
events they depicted. Using pen, pencil, and watercolors, they
made quick drawings of what was transpiring before them. Often,
because of the need to conserve paper, many of these drawings
would be crowded together on a single page. They would then
make a composite sketch of the entire scene and color it in. This
would explain the several detailed drawings that exist of the larger
composite picture, sometimes with some smaller details added or left
out. We have to recognize that these drawings, although from the
x  Illustrations

vision and perspective of foreigners, are the first images we have of

Native Hawaiians and of the islands.
Most of the images in this section were originally done in color
and have been published, for the most part, in black and white.
Seeing the original color is important because it reveals more cultural
detail than was previously seen. Using the original sketches, both
study and pre-engraving, also brings out details that the engravings
do not have, as well as showing the artistic progression as they
worked towards a final drawing. Engravers sometimes added or
subtracted objects before the final engraving, and those details may
be of great interest. Many publications only print the image to fit the
page or text, and yet some of these images, especially the Webber
drawings, were done on enormous sheets of paper providing room
for detail. We can’t reproduce them in the same size of the original,
but we can, with computers, enhance the images to show some of the
details we have been missing.
Several of the images in this section are not referred to in the
text, but are published here because they depict some cultural
material or event influential to Hawaiian culture, and because often
they are not easily accessible. The Webber drawings of fish and birds
have rarely been published in color and their absence had some early
researchers wondering if the British had even seen live forest birds at
all when they got here. This is a rare printing of these 1779 drawings
by Webber that I first saw in the British Museum’s Archives.

List of Illustrations
Sketch of Bartimea Lalana Puaaiki from Three Early Christian
Leaders of Hawaii, published by the Board of the Hawaiian
Evangelical Association, 1945 35
Reproduction of the original sheet music of Aloha ‘Oe 43
Ceremonial welcome of the Māori delegation to Bishop
Museum 72–73
Moses Keale, Sr. and a Māori elder, photo by Ed Michelman 78
Senator Kenneth Brown and Sir Howard Morrison, photos
by Ed Michelman 82
 No Nā Mamo  xi

A View of Owhyhee, with one of the Priest’s Houses, engraving

by W. Walker after Dr. William Ellis (Bishop Museum) 89
The use of pebbles for the training of the kahuna hāhā by
Joseph Feher (Bishop Museum) 91
First mission schoolhouse at KawaiaHa`o, Honolulu in 1820
by G. Holmes, from the American Board of Commissioners
for Foreign Missions archive (Houghton Library, Harvard
University, call number [Link].1) 107
Henry “Papa” Auwae and associate Sabrina Mahelona conduct
a traditional medicine workshop at Hōnaunau on the island
of Hawai‘i, photo by Malcolm Nāea Chun 141
Mary Kawena Pukui, photo by Fritz Henle (Henle Archive Trust) 144
The beach of NāoneaLa‘a, Kāne‘ohe, O‘ahu, photo by Norman
Shapiro 150
Four photos showing the process of making a fish net,
photos by Malcolm Nāea Chun 163–164
Paehumu at Pu‘uhonua o Hōnaunau, photo by Malcolm
Nāea Chun 168
Hale o Lono heiau at Waimea, O‘ahu, photo by Malcolm
Nāea Chun 170
Nā ‘aumākua by Joseph Feher (Bishop Museum) 181
Haunted Woods by Juliette May Fraser, photo by Wayne
M. Shishido (Hawai‘i Department of Education) 185
A rain god at ‘Ulupalakua Ranch, photos by Malcolm Nāea
Chun 195
Engraving of Kamehameha warding off the spears of many
warriors (Bishop Museum) 219
King Kamehameha IV and Queen Emma, 1859 by Peter
Hurd, commissioned by Amfac to commemorate the
company’s 100th anniversary in 1949, (Kaanapali Land, LLC) 224
Māori kaumatua, or elder, speaking in the marae meeting
house, Waikato, Aotearoa, photo by Malcolm Nāea Chun 236
Clearing of an old ‘auwai system, photo by Mahealani Davis 262
xii  Illustrations

Creating a diversion dam at Hālawa Valley, Moloka‘i, photo

by Mahealani Davis 264
Restoration of lo‘i ‘kalo fields’ in lower Hālawa Valley,
Moloka‘i, photo by Mahealani Davis 265
Baked pig and laulau bundles from an underground imu
(Bishop Museum, Baker Collection, Neg. no. 27809) 272
Detail of “Household of Kālaimoku (Kalanimoku)” from Îles
Sandwich: Maisons de Kraimokou, 1819 by J. Alphonse
Pellion (Bishop Museum) 293
Elderly Sāmoan male beating tapa ‘kapa’ in Savai‘i, Sāmoa,
photo by Malcolm Nāea Chun 298
The author and Moses Keale, Sr. with Dr. Susan Guyette
and Walter Dasheno of the Eight Northern Indian Pueblos
Council, photo by Malcolm Nāea Chun 315
Māui lassoing the sun by Dietrich Varez (Bishop Muesum) 319
The warrior chiefs Kamanawa and Kame‘eiamoku on the
coat of arms of the Hawaiian Kingdom, photo by Wayne
M. Shishido 333

Color Plates
1. An inland view of Atooi by John Webber (Dixson Library, State
Library of New South Wales, Sydney, DL PXX 21, f.20)
2. Detail of An inland view of Atooi by John Webber (Dixson
Library, State Library of New South Wales, Sydney, DL PXX 21,
f.20)
3. Detail of An inland view of Atooi by John Webber (Dixson
Library, State Library of New South Wales, Sydney, DL PXX 21,
f.20)
4. Detail of An inland view of Atooi by John Webber (Dixson
Library, State Library of New South Wales, Sydney, DL PXX 21,
f.20)
5. Native Habitations at Waimea, January 1778 by John Webber
(British Library)
6. Habitations of the Natives at Waimea, January 1778 by John
Webber (British Library)
 No Nā Mamo  xiii

7. A Morai in Atooi by John Webber (Dixson Library, State Library

of New South Wales, Sydney, DL PXX 21, f.17)
8. The Inside of the House in the Morai by John Webber (Dixson
Library, State Library of New South Wales, Sydney, DL PXX 21,
f.18)
9. A View of Kealakekua Bay by John Webber (British Library, MS
17277, no. 30)
10. Detail of A View of Kealakekua Bay by John Webber (British
Library, MS 17277, no. 30)
11. A view of Karakakooha in Owyhee by John Webber (Dixson
Library, State Library of New South Wales, Sydney, DL PXX 21,
f.39)
12. Tereoboo, King of Owyhee, bringing presents to Capt. Cook by
John Webber (Dixson Library, State Library of New South
Wales, Sydney, DL PXX 21, f.35)
1 3. Detail of Tereoboo, King of Owyhee, bringing presents to Capt.
Cook by John Webber (Dixson Library, State Library of New
South Wales, Sydney, DL PXX 21, f.35)
14. Detail of Tereoboo, King of Owyhee, bringing presents to Capt.
Cook by John Webber (Dixson Library, State Library of New
South Wales, Sydney, DL PXX 21, f.35)
15. ‘Ahu‘ula ‘feathered cloak’ (Museum of New Zealand Te Papa
Tongarewa, FE000327)
16. Mahiole ‘feathered helmet’ (Museum of New Zealand Te Papa
Tongarewa, FE000328/2)
17. Feathered head representing a god, Hawaiian Islands, late 18th
century (The Trustees of the British Museum, 00080961001)
18. God stick with barkcloth (The Trustees of the British Museum,
00082097001)
19. A Canoe of the Sandwich Islands by John Webber (Dixson
Library, State Library of New South Wales, Sydney, DL PXX 21,
f.37)
20. Detail of A Canoe of the Sandwich Islands by John Webber
(Dixson Library, State Library of New South Wales, Sydney, DL
PXX 21, f.37)
xiv  Illustrations

21. A Portrait of a Man of Atooi, January 1778 by John Webber

(British Library)
22. Boxing Match Before Captain Cook by John Webber (Bishop
Museum Archives)
23. Unidentified bird by John Webber, undated (The Trustees of the
British Museum, 1914,0520.369)
24. Bird by John Webber, labeled ‘a kie-a-roa [‘akialoa], dated 1779
(The Trustees of the British Museum, 1914,0520.391)
25. Unidentified bird by John Webber, undated (The Trustees of the
British Museum, 1914,0520.389)
26. Unidentified bird by John Webber, undated (The Trustees of the
British Museum, 1914,0520.390)
27. Bird by John Webber, labeled Aka-kan-ne [‘apapane], dated
1779 (The Trustees of the British Museum, 1914,0520.393)
28. Bird by John Webber, labeled He ‘ēē vēē [‘i‘iwi], dated 1779 (The
Trustees of the British Museum, 1914,0520.394)
29. Bird by John Webber, labeled hoo-hoo—the name given by the
natives [‘ō‘ō], undated (The Trustees of the British Museum,
1914,0520.392)
30. Unidentified fish by John Webber, undated (The Trustees of the
British Museum, 1914,0520.364)
31. Fish by John Webber, labeled Ecar-rah—Indian name [kala],
undated (The Trustees of the British Museum, 1914,0520.361)
32. Unidentified fish by John Webber, undated (The Trustees of the
British Museum, 1914,0520.363)
33. Fish by John Webber, labeled Roweeparra or Roupeeparra,
undated (The Trustees of the British Museum, 1914,0520.360)
34. “Entrevue de l’Expedition de M. Kotzebue, avec le Roi
Tammiamia, dans l’ile d’Ovayhi” by Louis Choris in Vues
et Paysages des Région Équinoxiales, Paris, 1826 (Hawaiian
Historical Society)
35. Detail of “Entrevue de l’Expedition de M. Kotzebue, avec le
Roi Tammiamia, dans l’ile d’Ovayhi” by Louis Choris in Vues
et Paysages des Région Équinoxiales, Paris, 1826 (Hawaiian
Historical Society)
 No Nā Mamo  xv

36. Detail of “Entrevue de l’Expedition de M. Kotzebue, avec le

Roi Tammiamia, dans l’ile d’Ovayhi” by Louis Choris in Vues
et Paysages des Région Équinoxiales, Paris, 1826 (Hawaiian
Historical Society)
37. “Vue dans les iles Sandwich” by Louis Choris in Vues et Paysages
des Région Équinoxiales, Paris, 1826 (Hawaiian Historical
Society)
38. Detail of “Vue dans les iles Sandwich” by Louis Choris in Vues
et Paysages des Région Équinoxiales, Paris, 1826 (Hawaiian
Historical Society)
39. Femme des Iles Sandwich (Woman of the Sandwich Islands) by
Louis Choris, 1816 (Honolulu Academy of Arts, Gift of the
Honolulu Art Society, 1944 (12, 158))
40. Port of Honolulu by Louis Choris, 1816 (Honolulu Academy of
Arts)
41. Village of Macaoupah, Owhyee by Thomas Heddington, 1794
(Bishop Museum)
42. Portrait of John Papa ‘Ī‘ī, Hawai‘i, anonymous, ca. 1851 (Bishop
Museum)
43. Portrait of Davida Malo by A. T. Agate, engraving by Hinchliff,
(from the author’s collection)
44. Portrait of Samuel Manaiakalani Kamakau, anonymous, n.d.
(Bishop Museum)
45. The author presenting the gift of a model voyaging canoe, ca.
1980 (Government House, New Zealand)
46. Presentation of a Hawaiian flag quilt, ca. 1980 (Government
House, New Zealand)
47. Sample of foreign trade cloth collected in 1825 by Andrew
Bloxam of the HMS Blonde, photo by Malcolm Nāea Chun
48. Petroglyph at KeahouLū, photo by Malcolm Nāea Chun, ca. 1985
49. The entrance to Hikiau heiau at Kealakekua Bay, photo by
Malcolm Nāea Chun
50. The platform foundation at Hikiau heiau at Kealakekua Bay,
photo by Malcolm Nāea Chun
xvi  Illustrations

51. Students at Keaukaha Elementary School, photo by Robin M.

Clark, 2008
52. Hawaiian diet, photo by Malcolm Nāea Chun, 2008
53. A Sāmoan orator, or talking chief, in Samoa, A Photographic
Essay by Frederic Koehler Sutter, University Press of Hawaii,
1971

Book Jacket Back: Detail of An inland view of Atooi by John Webber

(Dixson Library, State Library of New South Wales, Sydney, DL PXX
21, f.20)
 No Nā Mamo  xvii

Foreword
Ka ‘Ōlelo Mua

For more than fifteen years, Pihana Nā Mamo, a project funded

by the U.S. Department of Education through the Native Hawaiian
Education Act, was actively involved with Hawai‘i Department
of Education schools in improving educational results for Native
Hawaiian children and youth. Through this work, we witnessed
the powerful role that our rich Hawaiian culture and heritage, and
in particular the revival of interest in Native Hawaiian culture and
the desire to practice Hawaiian customs appropriately, played in
motivating our students to learn and excel.
We came to understand that a first step to ensure such an
outcome is to help students, teachers, parents, and community
members gain a deeper understanding of the historical and cultural
basis for the many Hawaiian customs and traditions. To this end,
Malcolm Nāea Chun, a cultural specialist with the Curriculum
Research & Development Group (CRDG) at the University of
Hawai‘i, researched and compiled valuable information for the Ka
Wana series, a set of publications that provides a wealth of insight
into the history, evolution, and meaning of many aspects of Hawaiian
culture, beliefs, and practices.
For this work, Chun drew on first-hand accounts from early
Hawaiian historians, early explorers and missionaries, and nineteenth
century Hawaiian language publications, as well as his own insights
built over a lifetime of engagement with the language and culture.
The result was a series of monographs that guide us to a better
understanding of the many complexities of Hawaiian culture, and in
particular, the way we interact with it in the twenty-first century.
This book is a compilation of the original Ka Wana series with
several exciting additions. The foundation of the Ka Wana series with
its systematic portrayal of Hawaiian beliefs and practices remains.
Of all the concepts that might serve as a unifying representative
of the Native Hawaiian value system, Chun has chosen pono, an
xviii  Foreword

overarching idea that defines the right way to live and, for him,
encompasses all the relevant ideas. It is pono that encircles and
drives the other values, and so it is pono that begins and ends the
discussion in this book and puts the Hawaiian world view into
context. It is within this context that he defines and discusses aloha,
welina, a‘o, ola, ho‘oponopono, and ho‘omana as elements that
build our understanding of the ancient culture. Having established
this cultural base, he then goes on to describe how it influenced
cultural practices such as alaka‘i, kākā‘ōlelo, and ho‘onohonoho, a
term Chun uses to describe culturally influenced ways of managing
resources. He addresses the traditional roles held by women and
men in Hawai‘i both before and after exposure to Western culture,
as well as concepts of sexuality in traditional society, under the broad
heading of kapu. The book ends with a discussion of hewa, defined
explicitly by Malo as the opposite of pono. Throughout, Chun
focuses on research-based descriptions of the ancient culture that
predates today’s often misappropriated, commodified, or trivialized
interpretation of Hawaiian culture and on how traditional beliefs and
practices do not have to be in conflict with modern life.
In a new “Afterword” written for this volume Chun revisits
the themes found in the book and looks forward to what our next
steps might be. He talks about his own experiences working with
historical resources and shares his hope that Native Hawaiians will
take this opportunity to seek out these resources for themselves as
a way of deepening their own understanding of Hawaiian culture
and traditions. Chun has also treated us to an article that he and
editor Lori Ward wrote describing some of their experiences with the
researching and writing of this book.
Production of the Ka Wana series and of this book represents
the work of many collaborators. Mahalo to Pihana Nā Mamo co-
directors Gloria S. Kishi and Hugh H. Dunn; the Pihana Nā Mamo
‘ohana of the Hawai‘i Department of Education and the Curriculum
Research & Development Group in the College of Education,
University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa; and the U.S. Department of
Education, which provided the funding for Pihana Nā Mamo.
Morris K. Lai, Principal Investigator
Pihana Nā Mamo
 No Nā Mamo  xix

Editor’s Preface
Ka ‘Ōlelo Mua o ka Mea Ho‘oponopono

This book began as a compilation of the eleven books that make

up the Ka Wana series published by CRDG from 2005 through 2010.
We encountered many challenges throughout the process of creating
these books. We have included an article in the appendix that
describes some of these challenges because we felt it was as important
to share the process as it was to share this very important material. In
this preface, I want to add some explanation of some of the technical
details involved in producing this work, both to help you understand
why things look the way they do and to help readers who may want
to use some of the historical resources we used for their own research
understand some of the challenges they might encounter.
The overarching issue that led to so many of our challenges was
the fact that we were trying to tell an indigenous story in an authentic
voice, but also trying to fit that story into the formal publishing
conventions that exist in a university setting. Added to this were
many challenges presented by the nature of the source material we
were using. One of the most basic tenets of Western publishing is
consistency. We use style guides for this reason, not because there is
anything inherently right or wrong in a given style, but so we can all
agree on the same set of conventions and be consistent. This is not
an issue in speech where language is fluid, constantly adapting to
the time, place, and situation. Written language, on the other hand,
is typically much more formal and much less variable. It is not an
accident that in Albert Schütz’s book on the history of Hawaiian
language studies the chapter that details the writing of Hawaiian is
titled “Reducing the Language to Writing.”
We used the Modern Language Association’s MLA Handbook
for Writers of Research Papers, Sixth Edition for this book. Elements
of this style you are most likely to notice are the use of single
quotation marks for translations of single words or phrases and the
xx  Editor’s Preface

citation style that uses the title to distinguish between works by the
same author. Much more problematic was the need to create style
conventions for issues that were not addressed in any of the standard
style guides. While the grammar and style conventions we chose
applied to original text, quotations were reproduced exactly as they
appeared in the original.
One of the very basic issues, and one for which there would not
seem to be any discussion needed, is spelling. We made the decision
to use modern Hawaiian spelling for our original text, meaning
that we use all the diacritical marks listed in the Pukui and Elbert
Hawaiian Dictionary and in Place Names of Hawaii. However, the
material quoted in the book comes from a variety of sources that
were written over a period of many years and in many locations. As
a result, there is little consistency in either the italicizing of Hawaiian
words or the use of kahakō ‘macrons’ and ‘okina ‘glottal stops.’ Other
seeming inconsistencies arise from a mixture of American spelling
conventions in our original texts and British spelling conventions
in some of the quotes. You will also find words from eighteenth
and nineteenth century sources that follow neither of these, but
show some of historical paths a word may have taken en route to
its current spelling. Finally, in quotes from the journals of some of
the earliest visitors to Hawai‘i, you will see a variety of spellings of
Hawaiian words that were written phonetically to represent what the
visitor thought he was hearing (we have provided translations for
those that seemed especially indecipherable). We have done our best
to keep all this straight and reproduce both historical and modern
sources exactly as they were written, with the result that as a reader,
you can see all the variation in both English and Hawaiian that has
occurred in both time and place.
Grammar necessarily follows the conventions of English with a
single exception. We chose to use Hawaiian forms for plural words;
for example, we wrote hale, not hale[s] or hales. We believe that it is
always clear from the context when a word is meant to be plural. On
the other hand, we used English grammar for possessive forms, so
you will see phrases like “Kaheiheimālie’s use of this proverb.”
Although the text is in English, we chose not to treat Hawaiian
words as foreign, and therefore, not to italicize them. However, you
 No Nā Mamo  xxi

will find Hawaiian words italicized when they are referred to rather
than used. For example, “the word aloha is often used as a greeting,”
but “he expressed his aloha.” Words from other languages, including
Māori, Sāmoan, Tahitian, Latin, and Tewa, are also italicized.
Translation is another area where we had to make some decisions.
Historical eras bring their own flavor to translations, and the author
has occasionally provided an alternative translation for some of the
historical material he referenced, either along with or in place of the
original translation. He has also occasionally translated a historical
reference written in Hawaiian and given just the translation. In these
cases we have provided citations for the original Hawaiian text.
Finally, I want to provide some explanation about citations,
especially for some of the historical sources. As mentioned above,
we chose to use MLA style for this book, so citations use the title
to distinguish between multiple works by a single author. In two
cases, we found ourselves needing to cite multiple sources by a single
author and with the same title: a series of columns written by Samuel
Manaiakalani Kamakau in the newspaper Ke Au Okoa in 1870, and
a series of reports by the missionaries to the Religious Intelligencer
in the 1820s. In both of these cases, we have had to add the dates,
often down to the day, to the citation. Similarly, citations of the
two versions (1957 and 1986) of the Pukui and Elbert Hawaiian
Dictionary are distinguished by date. Another complicated set of
sources are the various versions of Captain James Cook and his
crew’s accounts of their 1778 and 1779 visits to Hawai‘i (explained
in more detail in the appendix). We have cited two of the published
versions produced in the 1780s as well as additional material found
a volume edited by J. C. Beaglehole in the 1960s and based on the
original handwritten documents rather than the published accounts.
In each of these cases, we have modified the standard citation
formats to give you additional information that can help you to
locate these fascinating documents.

Lori Ward, Managing Editor

Curriculum Research & Development Group
xxii  Editor’s Preface
 No Nā Mamo  xxiii

Preface
‘Ōlelo Ha‘i Mua

Do you believe I’m wearing a kukui lei? It’s Hawaiian in looks

—it’s plastic made in Hong Kong. That’s what became of a lot our beliefs.
I wore this on purpose. I wanted you to know this is kukui nut.
It’s not kukui nut, but it’s Hawaiian, but it’s Hawaiian made
in Hong Kong of plastic, and that’s the way a lot of our beliefs
and customs have become.
attributed to Mary Kawena Pukui

Throughout the Americanization of the Hawaiian Islands,

beginning in the nineteenth century and accelerating following
statehood, the indigenous population of Native Hawaiians has
sought to understand their role in the new society. Cultural revival
and identification have gone beyond academic and intellectual
arguments to a reality in communities and families and are now part
of the political landscape of the islands. In asking the question “Who
are we?” people are really asking how they see the world differently
from others, and how this affects the way they make decisions. These
are questions about a people’s world view—how they see the world
around them, and ultimately how they see themselves. A popular
term to describe the answers to these questions is “values.”
Values are concepts and ideas that are important to a people in
defining who they are, what they are doing here, and where they are
going. Values are often expressed through the importance people
place on things held in common. In the United States, these may be
things such as eating hot dogs, or playing sports like football, baseball,
and basketball, or they may be things that bring a diverse group of
people together such as freedom of speech or the right to vote.
In the 1960s, social workers at the Queen Lili‘uokalani Children’s
Center, funded by a trust created to benefit orphaned and destitute
Native Hawaiian children, began to notice behaviors of their children
and families that were quite different from the textbook cases they
xxiv  Preface

had been taught in school. A lot of these new situations had to do

with Hawaiian cultural behavior and responses and involved dreams,
traditional healing practices, and attitudes towards modern trained
professionals.
In response, the center initiated a project to identify Hawaiian
cultural and social practices and behaviors and to study them as
they contrasted with their Western counterparts. The impact and
influence of the resulting books, entitled Nānā I Ke Kumu, are still
felt in Native Hawaiian communities, where the books are now a
standard reference.
A decade later, state senator Kenneth F. Brown, a descendant of
the nineteenth century historian John Papa ‘Ī‘ī, became interested
in knowing and understanding more about Hawaiian values. Brown
had been appointed to chair the bicentennial commemorations
for the arrival of Captain James Cook in 1778. George Kanahele
described his approach.

[. . .] he [Brown] proposed a number of activities

centered around a Bicentennial Conference on Hawaiian
Values. The goal of the conference lay in “rediscovering
the essence that was here upon the arrival of Cook.
Our purpose will be to understand ourselves better by
tracing the values of Hawai‘i from the beginning of
western influence. [. . .] This is a large order. A voyage
of rediscovery back into the past can be a hazardous
undertaking. It could flounder. The essence of that long
ago society may elude us or its values prove forever lost.
[. . .] The rewards of success hold such a promise for us
that the journey is compelling, [. . .] The values we seek,
then, could have meaning for our survival [. . .]” (Kū
Kanaka 7)

The following year Kanahele heard a talk given by Rubellite

Kawena Johnson, a professor of Hawaiian language and literature
at the University of Hawai‘i, at a humanities conference held in
Honolulu wherein she submitted several questions that intrigued
him. “Can traditional Hawaiian values be known? Are we able to
discover them? Do we know what values motivated the ancient
 No Nā Mamo  xxv

Hawaiian society and to what extent they are present now in

Hawaiian society? Moreover, do we know what values are proper for
present-day Hawaiians in a multiethnic society?” Johnson had an
impact on Kanahele’s interest. He wrote
She made a strong plea for the need to study traditional
Hawaiian values. Not only can such values be uncovered,
she said, but they must be. [. . .] She concluded that
because now enough material about Hawai‘i’s old
culture is available, the time for humanities scholars to
really get involved “has arrived.” (Kū Kanaka 9)

Brown and Kanahele were also greatly influenced by a similar

movement they saw in Aotearoa ‘New Zealand’ among the Māori
people and initiated a new project they called WAIAHA. The name
came from a combination of the words wai ‘who’ and aha ‘what’ and
represented the question “who and what is a Hawaiian?” Funded by a
private corporation, the final result of the project was to be a series of
books dealing with traditional and modern Hawaiian values. It had
three goals: (1) to fill the gap in our knowledge and understanding
of Hawaiian values, particularly in terms of the relevance of
traditional values to today’s world; (2) to stimulate wider interest
among Hawaiians in learning about and maintaining those values
that enhance our individual dignity as a people; and (3) to provide
additional material to those parents or teachers who are involved in
the teaching of values at home or in the classrooms where so little is
taught. (Kanahele, G., Hawaiian Values, n. pag.)
Although the series did not materialize, the idea of the project
was finally realized in a book called Kū Kanaka in which Kanahele
attempted to answer those questions in depth through a study of
Hawaiian values. He also recognized the limitations of this personal
search and study.
Yet our search is not ended. We have made a genuine
start, but much more needs to be explored. We have not
fully examined the whole scope of Hawaiian aesthetic
values which, while they may have been perceived in
early times as being more functional and technical than
artistic, are viewed today primarily in aesthetic terms.
xxvi  Preface

Nor have we adequately considered the important

ideas and values connected with the human body,
either in terms of its health or as a means to knowing
pleasure, recreation, and art. Nor have we devoted
enough attention to the social customs and attitudes of
Hawaiians, especially in ancient times [. . .]

Perhaps a search of this kind is never over, in that each

generation must launch its own quest. (Kū Kanaka
497–498)

As a young researcher and writer I had been involved in the

early stages of the WAIAHA project and submitted one of the few
articles to Dr. Kanahele. Mine was on the ‘ohana, or extended family
system. Later, as the cultural officer for the Office of Hawaiian
Affairs, I hoped to advance the idea of a published series on
culturally important things for Hawaiians to know today. We were
able to publish two books from a dream list of thirteen, Ho‘okipa on
traditional protocols and Mo‘okū‘auhau on genealogies.
Later, as the cultural specialist for the Queen Lili‘uokalani
Children’s Center, I had the chance to revive this idea through the
need to update the now classic work of Nānā I Ke Kumu. This was
in 1992, and it was, by then, considered historical information.
With greater economic, political, and social pressures on Hawaiian
children and their families, we were seeing cases that involved
Hawaiian cultural practices and behaviors foreign to both Hawaiian
and non-Hawaiian workers. It was clear that these cultural issues
needed to be considered in any programs designed to help Native
Hawaiians deal with these stresses. We were having to re-adapt
traditional healing practices like ho‘oponopono to accommodate
changes such as family schedules, misunderstanding or not knowing
Hawaiian language and concepts, and having non-Hawaiian family
members. Although there was once again a great need for a series
that would examine, in depth, key concepts and values for Native
Hawaiians to understand and practice today, the trustees of the
Center chose not to fund the publication.
By that time I had met the Rev. Dr. Martin Brokenleg, a Lakota,
Episcopalian priest and practicing clinical psychologist, who had
 No Nā Mamo  xxvii

co-authored a small book entitled Reclaiming Youth at Risk, Our

Hope for the Future. Martin proposed that by understanding and
using traditional indigenous forms of behavioral development and
practices, indigenous communities could help their young people
overcome such influences as drugs and gangs through greater
self-esteem and cultural awareness. He has been able to redefine
values from individual, and sometimes disconnected words, to an
interconnected concept more in tune with the ideas of extended
family and peoplehood. Instead of having long lists of individual
values, we are able to see, through four guide words, how those
individual values are interconnected and interrelated with each other.
Simply put, Martin proposes that a native young person needs a
sense of belonging or grounding in his or her people or community.
A native people are a people because they have an identity and
culture that distinguishes them from others. By belonging to and
identifying with this group they are able to receive, contribute, and be
valued. For them to be able to contribute, they must be able to have
mastery in a skill or knowledge. That mastery allows them to become
independent by producing something of their own, and through
that production and sharing, contribute to the group. Finally, in
practicing generosity by contributing the products of their skill or
knowledge, and by teaching the next generation, all the important
individual values like compassion, patience, humbleness, and so on
are brought into the process.
When I became the scholar-in-residence for the Hawai‘i
Department of Education’s special education project called Pihana
Nā Mamo, I was given the opportunity to put all of those ideas into
practice by creating a series of publications for the teachers, parents,
and children of Hawai‘i. The Ka Wana series of books applied Martin’s
four guidelines of belonging, mastery, independence, and generosity in
the context of Hawaiian culture and the Native Hawaiian people. The
series included each of the chapters found in this book as a separate
title, with the exception of “Aloha.” As we completed the books it was
obvious to me that the topic of aloha ‘love’ could not be left out of this
series, and so we belatedly added it on.
The English subtitles are my translations of the Hawaiian and
refer more to what is written than how those Hawaiian words
xxviii  Preface

are used in everyday speech. They represent what I believe is

fundamental to seeing the world around us through Hawaiian vision,
thought, and feelings, and how these influence how decisions and
ideas are formed by Hawaiians. Each title is supported by historical
and cultural examples taken from our oral and written literature, in
most cases directly from primary sources. In the body of Hawaiian
literature these are the writings of nineteenth century writers Davida
Malo, Samuel Manaiakalani Kamakau, Ioane (John) Papa ‘Ī‘ī, and
others who contributed to volumes of Hawaiian newspapers, books,
manuscripts, and oral accounts recorded by explorers, adventurers,
beachcombers, missionaries, and foreign visitors. They recorded the
stories of how Hawaiians acted, reacted, responded, and behaved in
different situations. It is a record that is available to each one of us to
research—to check, double check, and review for ourselves.
Researching these accounts has, itself, been a rediscovery of
how we see the world, and how we see it differently from others,
much as Kenneth Brown envisioned in 1978. Careful examination
of the words, written in Hawaiian and English, revealed what kind
of example the events represented. For instance, the Pahikaua war
is a noteworthy event as it appears to be a pivotal event in the life
of the kingdom. The ‘Ai Pua‘a war on Kaua‘i is less well-known
in Hawaiian history. But both were important because had the
outcomes of these civil wars been different, the development of
the kingdom under the rule of the Kamehamehas might not have
occurred. By reexamining carefully accounts of the Pahikaua war,
I was able to find one of the earliest examples of the concept and
practice of ho‘oponopono, although no mention of the term was used
in the accounts. By examining what had been said and the reactions
of those involved, a perfect match was revealed with the practice of
ho‘oponopono used today, which shows us how, to our ancestors,
this practice was as natural as breathing. This method of comparative
analysis with a deep understanding of the cultural base is a unique
way to use the combined disciplines of history and anthropology now
championed by many scholars outside of these islands—Marshall
Sahlins and Valerio Valeri of the University of Chicago, New Zealand
Anthropologist Anne Salmond, and Australian historian Inga
Clenndinnen to name just a few. These methods have demonstrated
 No Nā Mamo  xxix

that cultural reconstruction of lost, forgotten, or misinterpreted

events and behaviors can be understood once again from the world
view of the indigenous culture. A good example of this methodology
is the descriptions and analysis of a series of ceremonial welcomes
that all involve circuit-like action in the chapter on Welina.
Since the Bishop Museum’s publications of the writings of
Samuel M. Kamakau, John Papa ‘Ī‘ī, and Z. P. Kepelino, and the re-
printing of Malo, we have more resource materials than ever before.
In recent years further primary materials translated from Hawaiian
newspapers have been published: Huakai Makaikai a Kaupo,
Maui, A Visit to Kaupō, Maui by Thomas K. Maunupau, originally
published in Nupepa Kuokoa in 1922 and 1923 (1998); Keaomelemele
by Moses Manu, originally published in Nupepa Kuokoa in 1884
and 1885 (2000) (the translation first appeared in 1979 in Ke
Alahou edited by Marjorie Sinclair); Kamehameha and His Warrior
Kekūhaupi‘o by the Rev. Stephen L. Desha, originally published in
Ka Hoku o Hawaii from 1920 to 1924 (2000); The History of Kanalu,
Mo‘okū‘auhau ‘Elua by Benjamin K. Nāmakaokeahi concerning the
priesthood and star-lore of Kanalu, originally published in Nupepa
Kuokoa in 1900 and1901 (2004) and Ka ‘Oihana Lawai‘a, Hawaiian
Fishing Traditions by Daniel Kahā‘ulelio, originally published in
Nupepa Kuokoa from 1902 (2006). In addition, the availability of
online resources such as [Link] for quick access to the
Hawaiian newspapers and other websites for unprecedented access
to the journals of the explorers allows us to confidently agree with
Rubellite Johnson that the time to uncover Hawaiian values has
indeed arrived.
Years ago that was not the case, for Te Rangi Hiroa (Sir Peter
Buck) commented to his dear friend Sir Apirana Ngata, in a letter
dated November 4, 1930, that there was a need for a good study and
publication about Hawaiian culture: “A comprehensive work on
Hawaiian culture has never been done in spite of the huge quantity
of printed material that deals with these islands” (Sorrenson III: 74).
What he meant by culture was material culture, the arts and crafts
especially found in the Bernice Pauahi Museum where he was the
new director. He completed such a study, and it was published as Arts
and Crafts of Hawaii. It was first published as a large single book with
xxx  Preface

each chapter emphasizing a broad topic. Those who wanted to use the
book to replicate the arts and crafts found the large book cumbersome
to take to the workshop or out into the field, so the chapters were
reprinted as small booklets. Each booklet was a different bright
color so it could be easily identified on the shelf. What Johnson, and
then Brown and Kanahele, realized is that this generation needs to
understand and appreciate another important aspect of culture: our
world view, both of everything around us and of ourselves, and it was
this idea that has been developed into the Ka Wana series.
Our series was inspired by Arts and Crafts of Hawaii. It was also
printed in small booklets with different colored covers. I had asked
our graphic artist Robin Clark to look at kapa samples in Dr. William
Brigham’s extensive study on Hawaiian kapa ‘barkcloth’ so we could
show what the Hawaiian color palette looked like. We called it the
Ka Wana series after the kapa stamp of the wana or sea urchin, but
there is no symbolism or double meaning in the use of this name for
the series. It just is a beautiful graphic image and demonstrates the
Native Hawaiian artist’s ingenuity and creativeness.
As a younger reader I was always afraid of the massive books
we had to read for English literature classes, like Dickens’ David
Copperfield. I never thought I would be able to finish them. I thought
if we had the titles in smaller chapter-booklets like Arts and Crafts
of Hawaii, our targeted readers would be more likely to finish them.
However, both readers and libraries began to ask if we would put
all of the booklets into one large book, just the opposite of what
happened with Arts and Crafts of Hawaii.
Producing a large book after the series was finished gave us the
rare opportunity to correct mistakes and to add new information that
we are continuing to find. Ongoing research has led to the discovery
of previously unknown material and to new insights that often come
from connecting bits and pieces of information together that may
originally have seemed unrelated. I am also very pleased that we were
able to add a special color section so readers can see the details found
in some of the earliest recorded images of Hawai‘i. Many have been
published before, but after examining the original watercolors and
pencil sketches at the British Library, the British Museum Archives,
and the Dixson Library of the State Library of New South Wales, I
 No Nā Mamo  xxxi

realized how much we have been missing, visually and culturally, by

not looking at these originals. Most of the time we see engravings
made from the original drawings so they could be mass-produced in
print. But they are not the same, especially if they were not printed
with the original hand-coloring. In addition to early images of life
in Hawai‘i, we have included Webber’s drawings of fishes and birds
made during Captain Cook’s voyage. Although researchers have
long known of their existence, they are rarely published. Equally
important to the readers and researchers are detailed citations of each
of images so that readers will not have difficulty in finding them to
use in their own work. By compiling these early accounts and images
from our ancestors and earliest visitors, it is our hope that they will
become more accessible, not only to researchers and scholars, but to
everyone. They are cultural and historical treasures given to all of us
by our ancestors, Hawaiian and non-Hawaiian.
Knowing how our ancestors behaved begs the question of
whether we are doing the same. If we are practicing our culture in a
way similar to how they did, then we know that Hawaiian culture is
very much alive today. If we do things differently than they did, we
have to ask if those changes have been to our benefit, and whether
we can reclaim what has been forgotten, lost, or suppressed. The
touching of noses, or honi ihu, is a good example of this rediscovery.
Today many Hawaiians do not recognize this as a traditional practice
that has been replaced by a hug or a kiss. In fact, most English
translations of primary sources call it kissing, hence implying lip-
to-lip or lip-to-cheek. Some see the touching of noses as undue
influence of the cultural exchanges with our Māori cousins from
Aotearoa ‘New Zealand,’ but the historical and traditional record
is very clear. This is a traditional Hawaiian practice. Should it be
made the practice today? The answer is still uncertain, as there are an
increasing number of Hawaiians invoking the traditional honi ihu,
while many others retain hugs and kisses as a greeting.
How will these stories affect you? It is our hope that you may
discover some new insights into how you see the world and interact
with it. If you are a teacher working with Native Hawaiian families,
this knowledge may help you to understand reactions and responses
to your teaching. It is our hope that it can also provide you with tools
xxxii  Preface

and opportunities to use our cultural history to help these ‘ohana

learn from the traditions.
If you are a parent you may discover new ways to help your
children develop a true and deep sense of belonging based on the
cultural and historical treasures left to them by our ancestors. If you
are a school administrator you may discover new ways of working
with Native Hawaiian communities to overcome the many so-called
obstacles to learning and retention, and to build a community on
your campus.
If you are not Native Hawaiian you may begin a new journey to
deeply understanding our people and our ways of living. You may
find new cultural tools that could help your own family situations.
I have a vivid memory of myself as a very little boy in my
grandfather’s backyard on Makalapua Street, in what were then the
outskirts of downtown Honolulu. From the wooden bench where
I sat, the house was to my right and there was a tiny garden to the
left with a little grassy mound. I was sitting there watching things
because my grandfather had gone into a tall shed next to the house,
and while he was in there he yelled out to me to keep still and to wait
for him. I heard the sound of water hitting a bucket, and then he
came out zipping up his pants and holding the bucket. He then went
to a water faucet and began to fill the bucket with water, and then he
took it to a plant and dumped everything around the plant. By that
time I was at his side hanging on to his blue jeans. He looked down
and said, pointing to the plant, “Baby, this is medicine that can make
you well. Let’s go back inside.” Many years later I would learn that
plant, which most people consider a weed, was the pōpolo, one of the
first medicinal plants given to us by the god Kamakanuiaha‘ilono.
My grandfather did not teach me how to make medicines; instead,
he gave me the greater gift of seeing the world through different eyes.
It is this gift that, after such a long journey, is now made real in this
book. E ola!
 No Nā Mamo  xxxiii

No Nā Mamo
xxxiv  Preface
 No Nā Mamo  1

1 Pono
The Way of Living

E mālama ‘ia nā pono o ka ‘āina e nā ‘ōpio.

The traditions of the land are preserved by the youth.
(Author’s translation)


Ua mau ke ea o ka ‘āina i ka pono.

Kamehameha III, July 31, 1843
The sovereignty of the Kingdom is perpetuated by justice.
(Author’s translation)


E ‘oni wale no ‘oukou i ku‘u pono, ‘a‘ole e pau.

Kamehameha’s dying statement
Try as you may to undo the good I have done, you cannot.
(Author’s translation)

The current emphasis on “values” and the desire to understand

what they mean are perplexing from the traditional Native Hawaiian
world view. There are no words in Hawaiian for values, morals, or
ethics. This lack is not uncommon in traditional cultures where
moral or ethical practices were an integral part of everyday life.
However, there are many words for actions and expressions of
what people today consider to be values. Words such as aloha ‘love
or compassion,’ lōkahi ‘unity,’ ‘oia‘i‘o ‘truth,’ ha‘aha‘a ‘humbleness,’
and ahonui ‘patience’ describe values that are prominent in Hawaiian
life, even though none of these by themselves accurately describe the
moral and ethical world of Native Hawaiians. You could list, and
keep on listing, these concepts as values. But would everyone agree
on them? Or would we keep adding more so that the list might never
be complete? To avoid such a situation, some have attempted to
describe these values in a holistic approach to show their connection
to each other. In doing so we use catch-all phrases such as “a way of
life,” “quality of life,” or “the circle of life.”
But what do these phrases mean, and how do they describe
the values inherent in a native world view? I think one of the best
explanations comes from Brendtro, Brokenleg, and Van Bockern
2  Pono

in their work, Reclaiming Youth at Risk. They offer some guiding

principles to help in understanding the Lakota (Sioux) Indian world
view. The terms they use to describe the interrelatedness of the
many values of the traditional native world are belonging, mastery,
independence, and generosity (37–45). By understanding what these
words mean and how they are related to each other, I believe we can
begin to discover what values are important in Hawaiian culture.

Belonging
If one asks Native Hawaiians what the most important thing in
life should be, some might say it is aloha ‘love or compassion.’ But
what does it mean to practice aloha, and more importantly, why
should people practice it? The answer might be that aloha is vital
since it is desirable to enjoy positive relationships with others. The
cultural practice of being in a relationship with another person is
central to the idea of belonging. A native people are a people because
they have an identity and culture that distinguishes them from
others. By belonging to and identifying with this group, they also are
able to receive, contribute, and be valued.
According to Brendtro, Brokenleg, and Van Bockern, this desire
for membership in the group explains youths’ fascination with, and
need to belong to, gangs. A community of people who no longer have
the time and interest to involve youth in their way of life increase the
chances that undesirable alternatives will be found to replace what
may be missing in these young peoples’ lives. Without sanctioned
rites of passage that uphold the way of life of a native people, young
people may not know when they are expected to behave as adults or
how to assume grown-up responsibilities.
For example, in traditional native patterns of child development,
older children often look after their younger relatives, and in doing
so, learn and practice adult responsibilities. Such passing on of
knowledge and skills was one of the most effective means in native
cultures of nurturing maturity. This transfer of knowledge and skills
from one generation to the next is perhaps the most important
assurance that a people’s cultural legacy continues. This is the essence
of the proverb, “E mālama ‘ia nā pono o ka ‘āina e nā ‘ōpio” or “The
traditions of the land are preserved by the youth.”
 No Nā Mamo  3

According to scholar Davida Malo, a person with knowledge and

skills who contributed to the community was a kanaka, or a “person,”
or “somebody.” This notion is further reinforced in the motto of
King Kamehameha II. His motto “Ho‘okanaka,” which some have
translated as “to be a man,” is really more expansive—“be someone,
be a kanaka,” not anybody, or nobody.

Mastery
Learning skills and developing gifts are fundamental for native
youth. By developing talents, a person is able to become an active
participant in the community. It also usually means that young
people need to be in a relationship with a mentor or teacher who
has such skills. Such relationships allow the student to take risks
and make mistakes in a protected and controlled situation. These
mentor-student relationships ensure that no one will get hurt and
that persons are encouraged instead of discouraged.
We can see such teaching experiences exemplified in traditional
Hawaiian ways of learning. Pukui, Haertig, and Lee described this
process of learning.
The elders well knew that: “I ka nānā no a ‘ike, by
observing, one learns. I ka ho‘olohe no a ho‘omaopopo,
by listening, one commits to memory. I ka hana no a
‘ike, by practice one masters the skill.”

To this a final directive was added: Never interrupt.

Wait until the lesson is over and the elder gives you
permission. Then—and not until then—nīnau. Ask
questions. (II: 48)

This methodology was also clearly recorded by the historian

Samuel Manaiakalani Kamakau when he described how such a
practice was conducted in “the Hawaiian school of medical kahunas”
(Ka Po‘e Kahiko 107).
The foundation of the knowledge and skill of the kahuna
lapa‘au was the god. [. . .] Second came prayer. [. . .] That
was the first basic learned by the pupil, and the prayers
were memorized by the pupil until he could say them
4  Pono

without hesitation while making offerings of food and

praying ritually.

Third came [the diagnosing of diseases by means of]

the papa ‘ili‘ili, the “table of pebbles.” This was an
arrangement of pebbles in the form of a man, from head
to foot, until there was an outline of an entire man. The
study of the pebbles began at the feet. [. . .]

While the teacher taught, the pupils sat alert and

remembered carefully everything that was taught them.
[. . .]

By the time the instruction with the ‘ili‘ili, the pebbles,

was finished, the pupils knew thoroughly the symptoms
and the “rules” [. . .] for treatment of the diseases. [. . .]
Then the teacher would bring in a man who had many
disorders and would call the pupils one by one to go and
“feel,” haha, for the diseases. If the diagnosis (‘ike haha)
was the same as that of the teacher, then the teacher
knew that the pupil had knowledge of haha. (Ka Po‘e
Kahiko 108)

Independence
When a youngster has mastered a skill, he or she is not
dependent upon his or her teacher or mentor anymore. The student
can function “in-dependently,” though the notion of independence
in the traditional Hawaiian world differs from some contemporary
views. Independence, particularly in the Western world, is a complete
state of individuality and separation. As Handy and Pukui observed,
“an individual alone is unthinkable, in the context of Hawaiian
relationship” (75). This sense of independence arises from the results
of one’s labor and creativity. The resulting development of one’s own
style or ways implies that a person is ready, in his or her own right, to
be a teacher and mentor to others, thus “in-dependent.”

Generosity
When one is able to give back by teaching and mentoring others,
this is being generous. A generous person is someone who is able to
 No Nā Mamo  5

share knowledge and skills with his or her people and community.
At this point, a person has come full circle in that, through this
generosity, one is able to enjoy relationships with others and
experience a sense of belonging.
Kamakau gives a vivid example of this cycle of life in his account
of the High Chief Ka‘ahumanu.
[. . .] her mind ran in the same channels with those of the
old counselors who had passed on before her. Whenever
a member of family obtained land, whether a district,
an ahupua‘a, or some smaller division, the whole family
were informed of it, and the property divided among
them all. Each member worked for the good of the
others and they thus learned to love each other. The
home of one was the home of all, and they were all well
acquainted with each other, as was common with the
chiefs of old. This accounts for their devotion to each
other. [. . .] This working for the common good of the
family was a fine practice which it would be well for our
people today to emulate. (Ruling Chiefs 314)

Pono
Quite possibly, the word in the Hawaiian language that best
encompasses all of these principles is pono. This word is commonly
used today in English conversation, as in the phrase His talk was
pono, or as a means of farewell in the phrase mālama pono for the
English “take care.” The word is also part of the state’s motto: Ua
mau ke ea o ka ‘āina i ka pono ‘The life of the land is perpetuated in
righteousness.’
So important was this notion of pono that scholar Davida Malo
devoted an entire chapter to it in his book on Hawaiian traditions.
He did so in a very traditional Hawaiian manner, first describing
what pono is not. He gives a long list of what he considers to be
acts or actions that are not pono, that is, acts that are hewa. It is
noteworthy to review a summary of this list in its latest translation.
[. . .] But when the eye sees something and the heart
desires it, then the thought will increase there [in the
heart]. The source of this kuko [desire], li‘a [a strong
6  Pono

desire], ulukū [nervousness], ho‘okaha [to extort],

ho‘omakauli‘i [avarice], ‘i‘ini [craving], and halaiwi [to
look at longingly] with the idea to secretly take and acquire
the object. These hewa were called ‘aihue [theft, to steal].

[. . .] Desiring another person’s wealth. [. . .] ho‘ohalu [to

stare wide eyed], maka‘ala [watchful], kia‘i [to look at],
ho‘okalakupua [elusive], ho‘oeleiki [to bear a grudge],
ho‘opa‘ewa [to cause wrong], and ho‘opā‘ē‘ē [to cause one
to go astray]. [. . .] These hewa were called pōwā [robbery]
and murder was the means to do so.

[. . .] Taking someone else’s [possessions] [. . .] the first

thought was to pākaha [to cheat], lawe [to take], kipa
[entice], hao [plunder], uhuki [to pull up or uproot], kā‘ili
[snatch] and ‘ālunu [greed].

[. . .] ho‘opunipuni [lying], wahahe‘e [deceit], ‘alapahi

[falsehood], pālau [to tell tall tales], kūkahekahu [jest],
palolo [gossip], [. . .] pahilau [to tell lies]

[. . .] ‘aki [malign], ‘aki‘aki [slander], ni‘ani‘a [false

accusations], holoholo ‘ōlelo [gossip], makauli‘i [covet],
ka‘ameha‘i [elusive], kuene [“belittling,” Emerson’s
translation], poupou noho nio [pretense to knowledge or
skill], ho‘olawelawe [tempting], luahele [seduce], kumakaia
[to betray], ho‘olawehala ‘ōpū ‘ino‘ino [malicious accusation],
lawe ‘ōlelo [tattle], and pūonioni [[to be] contentious]

If a person thought badly of another [. . .] [there was]

huhū [anger], inaina [temper], ‘a‘aka [bad temper], kē‘ē
[shrieking angrily], nanā [quarrelsome], kūkona [being
crossed], nāhoa [defiant], mākona [nasty], kala‘ea [rude],
ho‘olili [provoking jealousy], ho‘omāku‘e [to scowl],
ho‘oko‘iko‘i [to treat harshly], ho‘oweliweli [to threaten]

[. . .] If a person decided to kill someone due to a fault (hala),

then there were [. . .] pepehi [murder], hailuku [stoning],
hahau [beating], kula‘i [pushing over], ‘umi [strangulation],
ku‘iku‘i [fighting], papa‘i [hitting], hāko‘oko‘o [leaning on],
ho‘okonokono [to entice]
 No Nā Mamo  7

[. . .] koaka [indecent exposure], pakaulei [irresponsibility],

pākela ‘ai [gluttony], palaualelo [laziness], lomaloma
[idleness], [. . .] hāwāwā [incompetency], ‘ae‘a [shiftlessness],
kū‘ono‘ono‘ole [ill-supplied], limalima pilau [one who
handles dirty matter], and kō‘ala‘ala makehewa [to waste
food]. (186–187)

These are all actions and expressions of hewa, a state of not being
pono. Both pono and hewa describe actions that are done, or not
done, to others.
Malo also provided a description, not a definition, of pono.
According to Malo, pono is a state of being, rather than an action.
It was pono when one’s eyes saw something and one’s
heart desired it, but one was ho‘omanawanui [patient]
and did not go to take it, but quickly left forgetting about
it without even touching it. This was pono. (187)

We find more examples of a traditional understanding of pono

in Malo’s comments about the state of being a good or bad chief.
He mentioned that “[T]hese were the ali‘i who were killed by the
maka‘āinana because [they oppressed them]” (266). He listed several
of the chiefs who were so killed and concludes, “Therefore, several of
the traditional or old ali‘i feared the maka‘āinana, but the maka‘āinana
faced death when the ali‘i was pono [moral, proper or fair]” (266).
One of these traditions of an oppressive chief is that of Halae‘a
of the district of Ka‘ū. The full story was given to Mary Kawena
Pukui by [Mrs.] Keliihue Alakihu of Ka‘ū. Malo also cited this event.
Told in more detail in the chapter on Alaka‘i, this tradition is most
revealing because it gives a very detailed description of Hawaiian
behavior as it relates to pono. Although the chief is oppressive, he
is still the chief and sacred; therefore, for the people to overcome
his oppression they must resort to a course of action in which they
would remain pono. Their method is conceived and executed with
ingenuity and brilliance.
The historian John Papa ‘Ī‘ī recounted an event that happened
while Kamehameha lived in Honolulu that demonstrated his
expression of pono.
8  Pono

Once Kinopu gave a tribute of fish to Kamehameha’s

son, Kinau, at Moehonua’s fish pond in Kalia. [. . .] the
result was a catch so large that a great heap of fish lay
spoiling upon the bank of the pond.
The news of the huge catch reached Kamehameha, who
was then with Kalanimoku, war leader and officer of
the king’s guard. The king said nothing at the time, but
sat with bowed head and downcast eyes, apparently
disapproving of such reckless waste. Had they caught
enough for a meal, perhaps forty or twenty, nothing
would have been said. However, Kalanimoku, apparently
knowing why the king kept his head bowed, commanded
Kinopu to release most of the fish. (49)

We can easily recognize from Malo’s list that wasting food is

not pono. But that is the easy part of understanding the lesson of
this story. The reaction of Kamehameha is subtle. He does not say
a thing but shows his disapproval by bowing his head and keeping
his eyes down. This is an expression of the principle of pono. His
shame and sadness at the wasteful act, however, are made known by
Kalanimoku, someone who is aware of the principle of pono and is
sensitive to the situation. Through Kalanimoku’s interpretation and
actions, the situation is corrected.
Another event illustrating the concept of pono happened on
the island of O‘ahu and involved Kamehameha, Kalanimoku, and
Kinopu. In this account, provided by ‘Ī‘ī and recounted in full in
the chapter on Alaka‘i, Kamehameha puts his own “son” [actually
nephew] to death for violating a kapu, an imposed chiefly restriction.
In this story, pono was exemplified by Liholiho’s display of patience
when he chose not to retaliate against his father, a choice that showed
Kamehameha “the nature of a true chief” (Ii 51). According to Malo,
Kamehameha was well aware of what would make a person a true
chief. Malo noted, “An ali‘i would be known to only plunder, another
to up root things, another to kill and another to collect or to heap
things up. There were a few just ali‘i like Kamehameha I, [. . . ] he was
a just and caring ali‘i” (177). In Hawaiian, the statement reads, “he
pue wale kahi alii uuku na [a]lii noho pono e like me Kamehameha I
he alii hoomalu pono ia” (33).
 No Nā Mamo  9

What made Kamehameha pono? It is not to be found in his

warrior status and ability to conquer and unify the islands as it was
for the paramount chief Kākuhihewa. Rather, it was Kamehameha’s
knowledge, appreciation, and understanding of pono. His awareness
of the actions of former chiefs furthered his ability to make the
appropriate and proper decisions to rule well. Kamehameha was not
the first to proclaim a kānāwai ‘edict or law’ that protected the rights
of all people, especially the elderly, women, and children, from being
harmed or harassed upon the pathways. However, Kamehameha
is seen by Hawaiians as being pono for doing so. A version of
this event was recorded by Mary Kawena Pukui, as told to her by
Kaluhuiokalani.
On one occasion when Ka-meha-meha Ist was building a
heiau (temple) and needed human sacrifices, sometimes
as many as ten persons were made victims; [. . .] he
started along the coast in a canoe with his retainers. At
one place they saw two fishermen walking on the shore.
Bidding his retainers remain at a distance, Ka-meha-
meha endeavored to capture the men. When they saw
they were being pursued both fled. Just as Ka-meha-meha
was about to grasp the hindermost, his foot caught in a
fissure of lava and he fell. The man he was after instantly
struck him over the head with his paddle so hard a blow
that the paddle was splintered. “Why don’t you kill him?”
said his companion. “Life is sacred to Kane,” replied the
man, quoting the old saying “Ua kapu ke ola na Kane.”

Ka-meha-meha had regained consciousness after the

blow and heard what the two men were saying. He knew
the man could easily have killed him by running a fish-
spear through his body and that neither of the two had
recognized him as their chief. The chief was so impressed
with the reverence for life shown by the two men that
he put an end to human sacrifice and promulgated the
famous “Law of the splintered paddle,”—the “Kanawai
mamala-hoe,”—which runs, “Let the old men, the women
and children sleep (in safety) by the wayside, “E hele ka
elemakule, a me na luahine, a me na keiki, a moe i ka
ala.” (Green 119)
10  Pono

Kamakau added to the above event.

Here is an example of his leniency toward one who had
injured him. At the time when he became ruling chief
over all Hawaii, there were brought to him those men who
had struck him with a paddle, together with their wives
and children. All the chiefs said, “Let them be stoned to
death!” Kamehameha replied, “The law of the broken
paddle is declared: no chief or officer of execution is to
take their lives. It is I who should by right be stoned.”
What a wonderful thing for a chief thus to mete out justice
towards those who had injured him! (Ruling Chiefs 181)

Kamakau said that Kamehameha was renowned because he

“regulated the fishermen,” “selected workers in wood,” “selected strong
paddlers to paddle canoes, and he set masters over them to navigate
the canoes,” “appointed commoners to the different land divisions to
cultivate,” selected people skilled in cultural arts and crafts, “appointed
tax gatherers,” “placed restrictions on sea fisheries,” “appointed men
to serve under the different chiefs as stewards,” “took the children of
commoners and trained them,” “selected men to act as teachers in [. . .]
the arts of the kahuna,” “built heiaus for his gods,” “established yearly
feasts as a time for rest from labor,” “always listened to the advice of
orators, diviners, kahunas, and men of skill,” “loved pious people,”
and “respected his wives and gave them wealth and honor.” Kamakau
further reported that, “He [Kamehameha] used himself to take part in
the work, no matter what kind it was.” Kamehameha did all of this, “in
order that the people might speak of his kindness and of the pains he
took to care for the chiefs and people; the orators were instructed to
speak of his kind acts” (Ruling Chiefs 176–183). Another example given
by Kamakau demonstrated Kamehameha’s respect and appreciation
of even the commoner. It is reported that late one night, Kamehameha
and a companion heard an old man preparing ‘awa to drink. They
listened as the man invoked his prayer which ended with a plea to “Let
Kamehameha, the good king, live to be old [. . .].” After the old man
had drunk the ‘awa, Kamehameha spoke.
“Is all your ‘awa gone?” The old man answered, “The
‘awa is gone. I have only scraps left. Last evening I gave
 No Nā Mamo  11

most of it to the god, and since I could not sleep I awoke

and pounded a little and drank it without any food
(pupu) to eat after it.” Kamehameha said, “I have a little
‘awa; let my man bring you some.” After they had gone
away he said to his companion, “Bring him forty ‘awa
stocks (pu‘awa), twenty bundles of pa‘i‘ai (holo‘ai), five
tuna fish (ahi), forty aku fish, forty mamaki tapas, and
twenty heavy loin cloths (malo uaua).” When the things
were given to the old man he said, “It must have been
Kamehameha and his man who came here last night!”
(Ruling Chiefs 182)

Kamakau spoke of Kamehameha’s behavior in the face of

temptation. He listed, as Malo had, what was regarded as wrong in
old Hawai‘i: petty thieving, taking things without leave, robbery,
oppression, taking without return, stealing, and taking without the
knowledge of the owner. Kamehameha’s actions were, of course, the
opposite.
It is told of Kamehameha that when he went out to find
tops for planting his field he went to the place of a chief
who owned a large planting of taro in upper Kuapehu.
He knew that the chief was not at home but had left a
favorite in charge. Landing at Ka‘awaloa he walked up
to the chief’s place, which was not far off, and found the
man in charge returned from the god house drunk with
‘awa and fast asleep. Kamehameha sat down therefore
and began to rub his head. The man started up and
asked, “Who is there?” “It is I, Kamehameha, come to
ask Naihe for taro tops from Kuapehu.” A wonderful
ruling chief indeed, who could have taken anything he
liked, but was thus kind and humble of heart! He was a
true Christian ruler. (Ruling Chiefs 205)

Much has been said about Kamehameha, in particular, because

he is so well known in traditional memory for his belief in and
practice of pono. The depth of his understanding and practice of
pono was a part of his life even at his death. It is said he almost
tauntingly remarked as a final statement, “Try as you may, you will
not be able to undo the good I have done!” Again, the statement
12  Pono

is better expressed in Hawaiian: “E ‘oni wale ‘oukou i ku‘u pono,

‘a‘ole pau!” We see that Kamehameha’s own summation of his life
has been to strive for the ideal of pono, that in his final breath it
is “pono” that he chooses to best describe his achievements and,
indeed, his life.
If pono is the legacy of Kamehameha, then certainly the proverb,
“E mālama ‘ia nā pono o ka ‘āina e nā ‘ōpio,” or “The traditions of
the land are preserved by the youth,” takes on added meaning and
importance. Over one hundred thirty years ago, Kamakau expressed
alarm at the growing outside influence on Hawaiian communities.
The Hawaiian people had the reputation of being a pious
people who worshipped the god; hospitable, kindly,
giving a welcome to strangers, affectionate, generous
givers, who always invited strangers to sleep at the house
and gave them food and fish without pay, and clothing
for those who had little; a people ashamed to trade. This
was their character before the coming of the foreigners
and of Christianity to Hawaii. Now they are being taught
to be close, stingy, hard-hearted, niggardly, to take pay
for what is given and to be selfish. Some are following
this teaching, but the larger part are still clinging to
the old custom of hospitality. [. . .] How did the old
Hawaiians acquire this character? They were a people
who worshipped the god, who knew the story of the god,
his power, wisdom, patience, good works, and long life;
a people who knew of other lands and could distinguish
good from evil; a people who knew the history of the
ancient rulers and which had done right and which
wrong. (Ruling Chiefs 201–202)

His insight leads us to the recognition that Hawaiian values are

not merely a set of discrete behaviors from which one selects. Nor
can one learn behaviors that reflect these values by signing up for
workshops. One could argue that such a perspective would lead
to lists of traits or characteristics that are so global and universal
that they are shared and experienced by all of humanity—they are,
after all, what makes us human. However, when they are practiced
with an understanding and within the context of a native world
 No Nā Mamo  13

view, demonstrating the interrelatedness and interdependencies

of belonging, mastery, independence, and generosity, the result is
Hawaiian.
Kamakau saw what could happen when people no longer “could
distinguish good from evil” (Ruling Chiefs 202) and seemed adrift
from being pono. The restoration of pono—the word for this is
ho‘oponopono—must be linked to the traditions and history of
Hawai‘i. It is a process that has developed to become more than
“making things right.” Today, it includes to restore and heal or
hō‘ola, literally “to give life,” by mending the broken relationships
between members of family, community, and perhaps even a people.
Deep and clear understanding, appreciation, and awareness of pono
are a start to that restoration.
 No Nā Mamo  14

2 Aloha
Traditions of Love and Affection

Ua ‘ōlelo pinepine mai nō ho‘i ka po‘e kānaka Hawai‘i

holokahiki e holo nei ma nā ‘āina ‘ē, i ka po‘e
aloha nui (lāhui Hawai‘i) ke loa‘a aku ma ko lākou wahi i noho ai.
Ua kāhāhā nui nā haole me nā kānaka i ka po‘e mau o ke
aloha o ka lāhui Hawai‘i, iā lākou Hawai‘i iho, “I hemo
wale ai nō kahi malo i ka hōhē o ka po‘e kahiko.”
Kamakau, Ke Kumu Aupuni
It was often said of those Hawaiians who went overseas
that they were full of love (the Hawaiians) when they received
visitors wherever they lived. The English speaking people
and others were greatly taken by the hospitality (aloha)
of the Hawaiians as they were treated like other Hawaiians.
A malo (loin cloth) was only removed at the timidity of the people of old.
(Author’s Translation)


Aloha is the most important word in the Hawaiian language.

It encompasses a wide variety of meanings, all of which are
about hospitality and love. The spirit of Aloha guides the
Hawaiian people in their lives everyday.
Westin Vacation Services, from a letter to guests

H. M. Queen Lili‘uokalani’s hānai daughter, Lydia Aholo, left a

collection of audio recordings of her recollections of the queen that
extend our insight into the queen’s personal life beyond what she
shows us in her own published biography, Hawaii’s Story by Hawaii’s
Queen. One of the stories Aholo remembered was of Her Majesty
returning to Honolulu in the spring of 1910. In a taped interview, she
recollected how Lili‘uokalani “was met at the wharf by haole, hapa-
haole, and Hawaiians” (Allen 380). Helena Allen wrote of this event
from the taped interview in her biography of the queen.
She stepped off the ship with Curtis Iaukea and was
greeted with “Alo-o-oha!”

Liliuokalani stopped, shocked, still. She stood

unmoving until the cry melted away as if in chagrin.
She looked down upon the crowd. “I greet you,” she
said in her rich musical voice, “with aloha. Aloha—that
is the Hawaiian greeting.” “Never,” she told more than
 No Nā Mamo  15

one Hawaiian child, including the adults such as Lydia,

“never say alo-o-oha. It is a haole word. Aloha is ours,
as is its meaning.” (380)

What did Her Majesty mean when she said that aloha and its
meaning belonged to Hawaiians while alo-o-oha belonged to non-
Hawaiians, and in particular, to the haoles, the term for English
speaking peoples? Does aloha have meaning that goes beyond a
simple greeting such as hello and goodbye? The Queen, through
Aholo and Allen, says that her greeting is with aloha. That would
indicate to me that aloha is something that qualifies the greeting.
Yet, this is followed directly by the short statement “Aloha—that is
the Hawaiian greeting,” which says aloha itself is a type of greeting, a
Hawaiian greeting. What, then, is aloha?

Dictionaries and Definitions

In looking at how aloha is defined, it seems that we, like the
Queen, can distinguish between the Hawaiian word and what has
become the English word.
Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary (34), in a very brief
entry, says that aloha is “used as a greeting or farewell” and indicates
that aloha comes from the Hawaiian word for love. It gives a date
of 1820 for the first documented use of the word aloha in print in
English, and this makes sense when we consider that that year was
marked by the arrival of American missionaries to the islands. The
Oxford English Dictionary echoes this in a similarly short entry. It
gives the definition as “[l]ove, affection” and adds “used in Hawaii
esp. at greeting or parting” (60).
The oldest Hawaiian dictionary was compiled by the Rev. Lorrin
Andrews and published in 1865. He notes that the word aloha can be
used grammatically as noun, verb, or adjective, with all three usages
connoting love, affection, gratitude, kindness, compassion, etc. In
addition, he includes the meaning of “salute at meeting or parting.”
Andrews does note, however, that “Aloha, as a word of salutation, is
modern; the ancient forms were anoai, welina, &c.” (37).
The Hawaiian Dictionary by Pukui and Elbert (1986), the
currently recognized authority, lists over thirty possible uses or
16  Aloha

meanings for aloha beginning with the familiar love and affection
but also including compassion, mercy, sympathy, pity, kindness,
and charity, among others, before going on to “greeting, salutation,
regards.” Examples such as “Aloha ‘oe, may you be loved or greeted”
and “Aloha kāua, may there be friendship or love between us” make it
clear that it was more than a casual greeting. Pukui and Elbert (1986)
also distinguish between the meaning of aloha and a long string of uses
that “were introduced after European times” (21).
Although both English dictionaries I consulted indicate that
aloha is merely a greeting, everyday greetings are not usually full of
the love and affection that is clearly part of the Hawaiian definitions.
A typical greeting, then, particularly to someone you don’t know,
would not necessarily include the word aloha. “Hello, I want a
tall, skinny, mocha to go. Thank you. Goodbye.” In this situation
you want to be nice and polite but probably not affectionate. It is
not a coincidence that Merriam-Webster’s gave the iconic date of
the missionaries’ arrival for their definition. We can see how the
meanings of Hawaiian words began to change after this date in
the writing of Laura Judd, the opinionated wife of the American
missionary doctor Gerrit P. Judd. This entry is from her journal in
Lāhainā in 1828 and talks about some important Hawaiian words
and concepts she was learning.
There is no word for “nature,” or “virtue,” or “enemy,”
or “gratitude,” or “color.” “Pono” means “goodness”
in general, but nothing in particular. So also “aloha”
signifies “love,” “affection,” “good-will,” and may perhaps
be twisted into “thank you,” or “gratitude.” (italics added
for emphasis) (Judd 21)

Thank you? Judd is correct that there was no traditional word

or concept for thank you until quite recently. Mahalo in old texts
is used more to express admiration, praise, and esteem as the
second meaning in the Hawaiian Dictionary describes (Pukui
and Elbert, 1986: 218). Have aloha and mahalo undergone similar
transformations, so that the original meaning is now merely a
secondary meaning? Is love and affection now a secondary meaning
to hello and goodbye? I believe the answers can be found in how
 No Nā Mamo  17

aloha has been used by Hawaiians before and after contact with
explorers and, later, missionaries.

The Romantic Traditions

Romance is an important part of Hawaiian traditions.
Thomas Thrum, who edited Abraham Fornander’s collections, first
categorized the traditions found in those collections. He gave the
title “love stories” to several that Martha Warren Beckwith would
call “romance” stories, a categorization she used for her translation
of The Hawaiian Romance of Laieikawai. In her in-depth analysis
of Hawaiian mythology, in which she summarized many of the
traditions presented by Fornander, she devoted several chapters to
what she labeled “romance.” These were traditions where heroine
or hero sought, sometimes in very complicated ways, to have an
intimate relationship with a lover—whether god or mortal.
Beckwith says that in the romance traditions,
[l]ove and marriage are always the theme, and chiefs of
unexceptionable rank—hence of divine ancestry—the
actors [. . .]. The world in which such persons live in
actual society, built up as it is out of fictional illusion, is
here represented in all the complexity of natural form
with which their island world keeps them constantly
surrounded. (Hawaiian Mythology 489)

One of these romance traditions is a short story concerning

Hoamakeikekula, told in Beckwith’s abstract of the tale as collected
by Fornander.
“Companion-in-suffering-on-the-plain” is a beautiful
woman of Kohala, Hawaii, born at Oioiapaiho, of
parents of high rank, Hooleipalaoa and Pili. As she is in
the form of an ala stone, she is cast out upon the trash;
but her aunt has a dream, rescues her through a rainbow
which guides her to the place, and wraps her in red tapa
cloth. In 20 days she is a beautiful child. Until she is 20
she lives under a strict taboo; then, as she strings lehua
blossoms in the woods, the elepaio bird comes in the
form of a handsome man and carries her away in a fog
18  Aloha

to be the bride of Kalamaula, chief ’s son of Kawaihae.

She asks for 30 days to consider it, and dreams each
night of a handsome man, with whom she falls in love.
She runs away and, accompanied by a rainbow, wanders
in the uplands of Pahulumoa until Puuhue finds her
and carries her home to his lord, the king of Kohala,
Puuonale, who turns out to be the man of her dream.
Her first child is the image Alelekinakina. (Hale‘ole
655–656)

For analysis, we can refer to Fornander’s much longer and more

detailed telling of the story. The first use of the word aloha in the text
is by Hoamakeikekula.
“Aloha oe.” Aloha aku o Hoamakeikekula me ka leo
oluolu; “Aloha oe e kuu haku.” (Fornander IV: 537)

“Love to you.” Hoamakeikekula showed her love using

a gentle voice; “Love to you, oh my lord.” (Author’s
translation)

Some translators would say that aloha is used here as a greeting,

but I see it as a sign of affection that we would miss if we did only
translate it as “Greetings to you” or “Hello.”
The next time aloha is used is to describe Hoamakeikekula’s desire
for some unknown male suitor whom she only dreams about.
A po iho, o kela uhane kana kane e moe ai, pela ko
laua pili ana me ke aloha, a me ka paa o ke aloha
ia Hoamakeikekula. (italics added for emphasis)
(Fornander IV: 539)

At night she would retire and dream of the same person.

Thus they were united in love, which became steadfast in
Hoamakeikekula. (Fornander IV: 538)

There are four words to focus upon in their relationship to each

other: pili and aloha, and pa‘a and aloha. Pili is to come close to, to be
near to or to have a relationship with and pa‘a is to be made firm, to
be tight or to hold tight, and both describe what has happened to her.
Hoamakeikekula has fallen in love in her dreams.
 No Nā Mamo  19

The Romance of ‘Aukelenuiaikū is a long one. In it we can

find many more examples of the use of aloha. This tradition is
believed to be a very old one because one of the major characters is
the older sister of the Pele clan, NāmakaoKaha‘i, and the events of
‘Aukelenuiaikū occur before she expels her younger siblings from
their homeland, causing them to journey to their new home, the
Hawaiian islands. Even the name of NāmakaoKaha‘i invokes an old
memory, for it literally means the “eyes of Kaha‘i.” Kaha‘i, who had
his eyes gouged out in far away Kahiki, is a name shared in traditions
with several South Pacific islands including Tahiti, the Tuamotus,
Rarotonga, and Māori Aotearoa. Beckwith includes Kaha‘i as one of
five chiefs that are “the twenty-eighth to the thirty-second in descent
from Wakea” (Hawaiian Mythology 238).
Beckwith’s brief introduction to her own summation of the story
gives a sense of how it fits the theme of romance.
The romantic tale of Aukelenuiaiku is said to have
originated in Kahiki and to be one of the most noted
of all Hawaiian stories. It tells of the wooing of
Namakaokaha‘i, older sister of Pele and related to the
family of gods who rule the heavens, by a stranger chief
who is aided by a mo‘o ancestor to cross the seas, escape
the jealousy of his brothers and every attack launched
upon him by the goddess and her relatives, and finally to
become her husband and rule over her desolated land.
Later he becomes enamored of her younger sister [Pele]
and eventually leaves the land and arrives ultimately at
Hawaii. (Hawaiian Mythology 490)

As with the story of Hoamakeikekula, a greeting is the first

indication of love (aloha), but in this case, as Andrews had described,
we find that welina (walina) is used for greetings, not aloha.
However, aloha is to be found in the quality of voice used to say the
greeting and carries the intent of affection.
A hiki lakou i mua o Aukelenuiaiku, kahea mai la o
Aukelenuiaiku me ka leo aloha, penei: “E walina ia oe
e Kanemoe; e walina ia oe e Kaneapua; E walina ia oe e
Leapua; e walina ia oe e Kahaumana.” Aloha mai la no
20  Aloha

hoi lakou ia Aukelenuiaiku: “E walina hoi oe.” Mahope

o ke aloha ana mai a Aukelenuiaiku ia lakou, [. . .].
(Fornander IV: 57)

They arrived before Aukelenuiaiku, Aukelenuiaiku called

out with a voice of affection, thus: “Greetings to you, oh
Kānemoe. Greetings to you, Kāneapua. Greetings to you,
Leapua. Greetings to you, Kahaumana.” They all shared
their love with Aukelenuiaiku: “Greetings to you.” After
this affection of Aukelenuiaiku was shown to them [. . .].
(Author’s translation)

In this tradition of ‘Aukelenuiaikū, whose characters are older

in genealogies than those of Hoamakeikekula, we also see that aloha
is not only a word for affection but also for deep emotion, as in this
account of NāmakaoKaha‘i’s deep attachment to her favorite pet.
A ike ke ’lii wahine ua make kana ilio, minamina iho la
ia me ke aloha, a kulou iho la i lalo e uwe ana i ke aloha.
(Fornander IV: 61)

And the female chief [NāmakaoKaha‘i] saw that her dog

[Moela] was dead, she was full of regret and love, and
she collapsed in love [for her pet]. (Author’s translation)

I wanted to use this particular example because it also answers

a question that the earliest explorers had about Hawaiians and
animals as pets. They knew that dog was eaten but wondered whether
Hawaiians had any affection for the animals they raised? Was it only in
mythical traditions? The emotional bond (aloha) between Hawaiians
and their pets was confirmed by Captain Portlock when he wrote of an
incident on February 5, 1787 at Waimea on the island of Kaua‘i.
A remarkable circumstance, related by Mr. Goulding,
a volunteer in the service, shews the great regard the
natives have for their dogs: in walking a considerable way
along the shore, he met with an Indian and his wife; she
had two puppies, one at each breast: the oddity of the
circumstance induced him to endeavor to purchase one of
them, which the woman could not, by all his persuasions
or temptations, be induced to part with; but the sight of
 No Nā Mamo  21

some nails had such powerful attractions upon the man,

that he insisted upon her parting with one of them; at
last, with every sign of real sorrow she did, giving it at the
same time an affectionate embrace. Although he was at
this time a considerable way from the ship, the woman
would not part with him till they arrived where the boat
was lying to take him on board, and just upon his quitting
the shore she very earnestly intreated to have it once more
before they parted; upon his complying with which, she
immediately placed it at the breast, and after some time
returned it to him again. (188)

The romantic tradition of ‘Aukelenuiaikū further demonstrates

other emotional qualities that aloha could be used to describe in the
following three examples, and again, it is important to see which
words are used with it. In this first example aloha is a quality of
‘olu‘olu or kindness. Why not just leave it alone? Because the story
teller wants to emphasize how much affection was held between
them.
[. . .] ike mai la ka wahine me na kaikoeke, uwe mai la,
a halawai ae la lakou me ka oluolu aloha. [. . .] ua uhi
ia ko laua mau manao i ke aloha a me ke manao [. . .].
(Fornander IV: 67)

[. . .] the woman saw the relatives (in-laws), and she

cried and they met with loving kindness. [. . .] both of
their thoughts were covered in love and consideration [.
. .]. (Author’s translation)

In the next example the verb komo is used to tell how aloha
dwells in a person, for komo means to enter, as into a house, into a
car, or into your clothes.
No keia mea, komo mai la ke aloha i loko o ka wahine
no kana kane, [. . .]. (Fornander IV: 83)

Because of this reply made by her husband, sadness

entered the heart of Namakaokahai for him; [. . .].
(Fornander IV: 82)
22  Aloha

For this reason, love had entered into the woman

[NāmakaoKaha‘i] for her husband [. . .]. (Author’s
translation)

Aloha is a real object and, actually, the subject in this sentence.

This concept whereby an inanimate object becomes the subject
reminds me of when I was teaching Hawaiian language and my
students struggled with the concept of smell and fragrance. In
English we might say, “I smell the scent of the jasmine flowers.”
But in Hawaiian the literal translation of the same sentence would
be “The scent of the jasmine flowers came to me.” We use the same
thought when we talk about being sick. The commonality of these
three inanimate objects is that they are external and overwhelming
objects to the subject.
The last of these three examples links aloha with the physical
display of crying. Here the characters in the story are crying over
only greeting each other!
Uwe iho la lakou a pau me ke aloha, hoi aku la a ka hale
noho iho la. (Fornander IV: 99)

[. . .] where they all met and wept over each other, and
after their greeting [. . .] (Fornander IV: 98)

They all cried with affection, and came back to stay at the
house. (Author’s translation)

Fornander translated this as “they all met and wept over

each other.” I presume Fornander thought it was unnecessary to
include that the crying was done with affection (aloha), but for this
discussion about aloha, it is important to note that aloha is expressed
through tears.
Now, a final example demonstrates another aspect of the
romance theme. This story uses another word: ho‘oipoipo, or what
some today might describe as “love-making,” which might be
appropriate as the causative ho‘o- is used. Pukui and Elbert define
the word ho‘oipoipo as to “make love, court, woo; love; romantic”
(1986: 103). If emotional crying is a physical expression of aloha, is
the physical act of sex a similar expression?
 No Nā Mamo  23

A ua pili mai no ia hana mua i ka poe o neia mau la

e hooipoipo ana, a nolaila he hana no ia a ke keiki
Aukelenuiaiku [. . .]. (Fornander IV: 103)

[. . .] and that his scratches and bites came from another

source altogether. (Fornander IV: 102)

The people of those days were discreet about such action

to have sex, and therefore that is what Aukelenuiaiku’s
son did [. . .]. (Author’s translation)

I have heard some talk today about sex as “hana aloha” or an act
of love, but, as we see in the above example, there are specific words
for sexuality. Le‘ale‘a, for instance, not aloha, means sexual pleasure.
I suspect the translator, either Fornander or Thrum, was either too
embarrassed or too prudish to directly tell us what was going on in the
above example. Instead he, quite hilariously, lets us imagine what has
happened by describing the physical results of the sexual act. In this
story, emotional expressions of love are used with the word aloha, but,
what some today would consider as a physical act of love, that is, sex
and sexual pleasure, is not aloha. Sex has its own unique vocabulary.

The Ruling Chiefs of Hawai‘i

Fornander’s collection of Hawaiian traditions was gathered at
about the same time as Kamakau’s works were being published in
Hawaiian language newspapers in the mid- to late-nineteenth century.
Kamakau’s historical accounts of the chiefs, later translated and re-
published as Ruling Chiefs of Hawaii, continue the usage of aloha going
back to “mythical” ancestors from the times of Wākea and Kaha‘i.
We find, in the following examples, a consistent use of aloha
similar to that found in the romance stories, where aloha is defined
as affection in the context of relationships, and in the third example,
once again tied to deep emotions that produce crying.
[. . .] ua paulele aku kona naau ia Umi, he malama i na
oleloao, he hoohaahaa ia ia iho imua o kona makuakane,
a i mua o kana poe kumuao nana e ao, a imua o ke
aloalii o kona makuakane, a ua aloha aku lakou ia ia.
(Kamakau, “Ka Moolelo Hawaii” 17 Nov. 1870: 1)
24  Aloha

Liloa was inclined toward ‘Umi who heeded all

instructions, served his father humbly, and was obedient
to his teachers and those in his father’s court. They love
him. (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 9)

[. . .] a na ke akua ka hoi e aloha mai i kou noho ilihune

ana, aia no i ke akua ka uku mai ia oe. (Kamakau, “Ka
Moolelo Hawaii” 17 Nov. 1870: 1)

Though you may live in poverty, the god will have compassion
on you and reward you. (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 9)

[. . .] a ahiahi loa, hiki mai ana o Kaleioku me kona ohana,

a halawai pu lakou me ke aloha nui, a pau ka uwe ana [. . .]
(Kamakau, “Ka Moolelo Hawaii” 24 Nov. 1870: 1)

They greeted each other with affection, and after they

had finished weeping [. . .] (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 13)

At least in the following text the translator(s) have owned up to

say that ho‘oipoipo is a sexual act without any association with aloha.
This further reinforces the distinction between the vocabularies of
sexuality and aloha.
A me na hooipoipo ana no ka ike mai i keia kanaka
maikai, [. . .] I ka launa hooipoipo ana. (Kamakau, “Ka
Moolelo Hawaii” 8 Dec. 1870: 1)

Noticing his handsome appearance, Kolea-moku made

love to him. (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 25)

In contrast to this example, we have another form of

qualification, the word olioli or joy, which is linked to aloha. In the
same story the parents express their great love (aloha nui) for their
daughter by preparing an ‘aha‘aina olioli, a joyous feast.
[. . .] ka ike ana mai o na makua i ka laua kaikamahine,
a me ka laua moopuna, alaila, ua haawi ae laua i ka
hauoli nui me ke aloha kuhohonu, no ka olioli i ka laua
kaikamahine a me ka laua moopuna, [. . . ] a ua haawiia
he ahaaina olioli me ke aloha nui, [. . .] (Kamakau, “Ka
Moolelo Hawaii” 8 Dec. 1870, 1)
 No Nā Mamo  25

When the parents saw their daughter and grandson

they greeted them with the deepest affection and much
rejoicing [. . .] [foods] were prepared for a feast to
express happiness and love. (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 26)

We can see that aloha is a very strong emotion, although it is

not always present where we might expect to find it. In the following
example, even among relatives, there is no aloha, and the result is
death without any remorse or caring.
Ua make o Hoolaemakua ma ka hoomauhala o
Kihapiilani i kona makuahonowai, no ke kokua ole ona,
aole oia i aloha i ka puka a maka ana iwaho (hoehaa ua
Oahu makaewaewa). (Kamakau, “Ka Moolelo Hawaii”
15 Dec. 1870: 1)

Ho‘olaemakua was killed because Kiha-a-Pi‘i-lani bore

a grudge against him, his father-in-law, for not helping
on his side. He felt no affection for him, [. . .] (Kamakau,
Ruling Chiefs 31)

In the next example, the two paramount chiefs ‘mō‘ī,’ actually

met together ‘hālāwai pū,’ not just to greet each other, but because of
affection and love ‘ka hui aloha pū ‘ana.’
[. . .] a ua halawai pu na‘lii Moi elua, a no ka hui aloha pu
ana. (Kamakau, “Ka Moolelo Hawaii” 29 Dec. 1870: 1)

The two ruling chiefs met and greeted each other with
affection. (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 42)

Earlier, we saw the action of komo in relation to aloha as

entering inside of the person. In the following example, we see
the word hū, to well up or swell inside of a person, and it is due to
hearing a chant that recalled companionship and loyalty during
extremely hard times.
[. . .] ua hu mai ka manao aloha nui i ke alii. (italics
added for emphasis) (Kamakau, “Ka Moolelo Hawaii” 19
Jan. 1871: 1)
26  Aloha

When Kapa-‘ihi was no longer a favorite to the chief he

reminded him of their life of poverty in the wilderness
of Kauai, where they wandered about hungry. Therefore
great affection welled up in the chief, and Kapa-‘ihi-a-
hilina became a greater favorite than he was before.
(Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 48)

Kapa‘ihi had composed a chant for his chief, Lonoikamakahiki,

and this is its ending.
Aloha a haalele ia oe ke hele nei, [. . .]
Aloha wale ana ka wau ia oe iloko o ka ua hoa.
(Kamakau, “Ka Moolelo Hawaii” 19 Jan. 1871: 1)

Farewell, I leave you and go. [. . .]

I bid farewell to you, who remain in anger.
(Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 52)

Upon hearing these words, how could it have been possible

for Lonoikamakahiki to have remained angry? He did not, and the
compassion and affection inside of him did indeed hū, or well up, to
make him recognize how loyal a companion Kapa‘ihi had been and
how important this relationship was to him.
When Kamakau writes about the period of the kingdom, the
use of aloha becomes related more to the act of greeting. He did
reflect that in traditional times such affection in a relationship was
expressed in numerous ways, and he noted that hand shaking had
been introduced in the islands as a means of showing one’s aloha in
greetings.
‘O ke aloha kahiko a ka lāhui Hawai‘i, ‘o ka honi ‘ana
ma nā ihu, ‘o ke kūnou ‘ana o ke po‘o, a ‘o ke aloha ‘ana
ma ka waha, a ‘o ka uē me ka waimaka, ‘o ke ka’a ‘ana i
lalo o ka lepo, ‘o ke kukuli ‘ana i nā kuli e ho‘oha‘aha‘a iā
ia iho; a ‘o ia ihola nā aloha i a‘o ‘ia e nā mākua kahiko
Hawai‘i. Ua pili ka nui o ke aloha ma loko o nā hale
ali‘i, a ‘o ke aloha e pili ana i ke kua‘āina, [. . .]. ‘O ke
aloha lūlū lima, he aloha hou wale a‘e nei nō ia mai nā
haole mai. Ua pāpā ‘ia ke aloha Hawai‘i [. . .]. (Ke Kumu
Aupuni 250)
 No Nā Mamo  27

The old Hawaiian ways of salutation were touching

noses, bowing the head, greeting with the mouth,
weeping, rolling on the ground, or kneeling as a sign
of submission. These were the forms taught by early
Hawaiian parents. There were other forms required in the
households of chiefs, but the country people expressed
their affection in these ways. (Ruling Chiefs 249)

Shaking of hands is a new expression of aloha brought

by the Euro-Americans. The Hawaiian way of aloha has
been around for a long time. (Author’s translation)

In the early post-contact period of the kingdom we still find that

aloha remains a qualitative part of greetings and hospitality, as seen
in this example when Kaumuali‘i received the other island chiefs to
his island of Kaua‘i in 1821.
[. . .] ua ho‘okipa mai ‘o Kaumuali‘i me ke aloha [. . .]
(Kamakau, Ke Kumu Aupuni 255–256)

Ka-umu-ali‘i received them all, feasted them royally, and

gave them presents of clothing and whatever else they
wanted. (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 253)

When King Liholiho returned from visiting Kaua‘i in 1823, he

lived at Pu‘uloa (Pearl Harbor) and was visited by the American
missionary Hiram Bingham. Kamakau tells us that when the king
welcomed (ho‘okipa) Bingham, it was Bingham who spoke of aloha,
not as a greeting, but as affection.
[. . .] a ua ho‘okipa nō ka mō‘ī iā ia. Ua ha‘i aku ‘o ia i
kona kuleana o ka hiki ‘ana aku i mua o ka mō‘ī, ‘o ia ‘o
ke “aloha,” me ka ‘ī aku, “He nui loa ko‘u aloha iā ‘oe; he
ali‘i ‘ōpiopio ‘oe, no laila, e ha‘alele ‘oe i ka inu rama a
me nā hana le‘ale‘a ‘ē a‘e [. . .] (Ke Kumu Aupuni 258)

[. . . ] he received a visit from Mr. Bingham who said, “I

love you very much. You are but a young king, therefore
I want you to stop drinking and loose living and become
a good king, [. . .]” (Ruling Chiefs 255)
28  Aloha

How do you do?

It didn’t take long after the arrival of foreigners, especially
the haole, or Americans and British, for the Hawaiians to pick
up customs needed for easy communication. One of the Russian
explorers, Lisianskii, noted in 1814 while offshore of the island of
Hawai‘i how Hawaiians were learning European greetings.
On coming on deck, they shook hands with every one
they saw, repeating the word, how-lo-lo, meaning, as I
conceived, how do you do. (Barratt 55)

It is quite possible that foreigners, especially the American

missionaries who settled in the islands in 1820 and needed to learn
Hawaiian to communicate, influenced Hawaiians to change the way
they expressed greetings. In a speech given by Kīna‘u Kaho‘ānokū
(Elizabeth Ka‘ahumanu) dated December 20, 1825, we discover aloha
being used by the chiefs in the greetings where it was substituted for
welina. This would appear to support the claims that the two words
were by then being used interchangeably.
E nā maka‘āinana kahiko o māua me ku‘u ali‘i, mai
Hawai‘i a Kaua‘i, aloha kākou a pau loa. (Kamakau, Ke
Aupuni Mō‘ī 96)

[. . .] you old people of my own and of my king, from

Hawaii to Kauai, greetings to you all. (Kamakau, Ruling
Chiefs 321)

And she closed the speech by saying

E aloha aku kākou i ke akua, [. . .]. Aloha maika‘i kākou.
(Kamakau, Ke Aupuni Mō‘ī 96)

Let us therefore love God [. . .]. (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 322)

Best aloha to all of us. (Author’s translation)

The Missionaries: Aloha kākou!

We can compare those native examples of how aloha was
used with what the American missionaries experienced. They
 No Nā Mamo  29

were prodigious writers, especially since it was their best means of

soliciting funds from back home. Initial reports, in the form of letters
published in local New England newspapers and other publications,
showed that Hawaiians were using the word aloha in their own
context as a sign of affection.
In one of the earliest reports from the island of Kaua‘i, American
missionaries Whitney and Ruggles wrote about an audience they
had with the king, George Kaumuali‘i, in 1820. In this account, they
describe the king’s outburst of affection for the care given to his son,
who had been to the United States, followed by seemingly adopting
them (probably the form of ho‘okama). The original letter had
been published in the Connecticut Mirror and was reprinted in the
Religious Intelligencer.
May 4. This morning early I went to the king’s house,
and was met at the door by himself and the queen, who
took me by each arm, led me in and seated me between
them upon the sofa; and after having several times put
their noses to mine, the king enquired if it was true that I
had lived with Hoomehoome (the real name of George)
in America, and eat with him and slept with him, saying
his son had told him many things that he could not
fully understand, and that I had been his friend a long
time, and would stay here and instruct his people to
read. I told him it was true, and that the good people
of America who loved his son and loved him and his
people, had sent several men and women to instruct his
people to read and work as they do in America. When
I told him this, he with his wife broke out in one voice
“miti, miti, nove loah aloha America;” [maika‘i, maika‘i,
nui loa aloha America] that is, good, good, very great love
for America; and then burst into tears. After a short time,
he asked me how long I would be willing to stay and
teach his island. I told him I wished to spend my life here
and die here; he then embraced me again and said “kacke
vo’u oe, mahkooah oe o-ou wihena o ou mahkooah oe,”
[ka ko‘u ‘oe, makua ‘oe o‘u, wahine ou makua ‘oe] that
is, you my son, I your father, my wife you [sic] mother.
(“Return of Prince George to Atooi” 771)
30  Aloha

An article taken from the Nantucket Inquirer gives an eyewitness

account of a similar incident of aloha and the desire to establish a
binding relationship through adoption.
The natives appeared to have their curiosity much
excited with the novelty of the scene, as we are the first
white females who were ever on the island. We called
at the door of an aged woman who knew not how to
express her joy, but by saying “Aloha nooe roa nume oe
makooah ori,” [Aloha nui loa, you call (nume/name) me
joyful parent (makua oli)] that is, I love you very much,
you must call me your mother. She gave us a number of
oranges; [. . .] (“Mission to the Sandwich Islands” 5 May
1821: 786)

But, in a description of the “First Sabbath at the Islands,”

the greeting custom of shaking hands is used, and aloha is now
understood as “the usual compliment.”
April 1 [1820] To-day as we were near his residence at
Toeaigh [Kailua] Bay, Krimakoo [Kalanimoku] and his
wife, and two widows of Tamahamaha [Kamehameha],
decently dressed, and attended with a considerable train
of men and women, came on board the brig, having
sent before them a present to Capt. B. of three hogs,
and as many large bundles of sweet potatoes. They
were introduced to the members of the mission family
individually, and the mutual salutation of shaking hands,
with the usual compliment “Aloha,” passed pleasantly
among us all. (“Mission to the Sandwich Islands” 7 April
1821: 725)

Kamakau wrote about Hawaiians being “he hookipa, he oluolu,

he heahea, he aloha” (Kamakau, “Ka Moolelo O Kamehameha I”
1) and expressed that Hawaiians were “hospitable, kindly, giving
a welcome to strangers, affectionate, generous givers, who always
invited strangers to sleep at the house and gave them food and fish
without pay, and clothing for those who had little; a people ashamed
to trade” (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 201). How were hospitality,
greetings, and poverty expressed in this culture? The missionaries
 No Nā Mamo  31

experienced it and left this account in which one can hear their
amazement at the importance of hospitality among the natives.
March 17. This morning, Mr. Loomis, accompanied by
William Beals, set out on an exploring tour to make the
circuit of the island of Woahoo [O‘ahu], with the design
of conversing with the inhabitants at their dwellings
[. . .]. Last evening, Mr. Loomis and William Beals
returned. The inhabitants uniformly appeared to be
not only inoffensive, but friendly, and pleased to show
them kindness when they had an opportunity. In some
instances, where the poor natives were unable to afford
them the refreshment which they needed, they wept
with sympathy for the hungry travellers, and bade them
welcome to the best their humble cottages afforded,
both by night and by day. [. . .] Mr. Loomis saw some
evidences of what may be called the remaining shreds
of idolatry;—a shapeless stone or two, decorated with
colored tappa [kapa], receiving the continual offerings of
grass, leaves, &c. Returning from Wi-ma-ha [Waimea],
they met the chief, Krimakoo [Kalanimoku], with about
200 men and women, proceeding to the work of cutting
sandal wood. He gave them some fish and tara [taro]
for refreshment. (“Extracts from the Journal of the
Missionaries” 20 July 1822: 116–117)

In the same account, a somewhat humorous incident involving

the visit of Liholiho, the king, who tested out Mr. Chamberlain’s bed
for size, also re-affirms the idea that the missionaries were equating
aloha with their form of a goodbye.
April 4. The king and several of his queens called upon
us this morning. His majesty inspected our well, cook-
house, &c. and pronounced them “miti” [maika‘i].
Entering the house of Mr. Chamberlain, he threw
himself upon a bed, where he lay and rolled from side
to side, for about a quarter of an hour. He afterwards
visited the other rooms, and appeared pleased with our
habitations. [. . .] Giving us his “aloha,” he jumped into
our handcart, placing his back towards the forepart,
32  Aloha

and, in this position, was drawn by his attendants to the

village. (“Extracts from the Journal of the Missionaries”
20 July 1822: 117)

The Hawaiians’ signs of affection for each other were still being
observed by the missionaries, although it is hard to know whether what
they were seeing as a “customary salutation” was actually customary or
was merely interpreted that way through their cultural lens.
Tamoree [Kaumuali‘i], being early apprised of his
arrival, rose, and, with apparent composure, dressed
himself, and, in a small canoe, with two or three
attendants, went out quietly on board the king’s
boat, gave him his friendly aloha, and the customary
salutation of joining noses, (while the company
expressed great joy at seeing Tamoree,) then conducted
him ashore, and appropriated to his use a large and
convenient house, well fitted for his reception, spread
with the beautiful Onehow [‘O Ni‘ihau]-mats; and, at the
young king’s earnest request, lest his people at Woahoo
[O‘ahu] should conclude that he was drowned in the
sea, or killed at Atooi [Kaua‘i], despatched two of his
vessels, a brig and a schooner, to inform them that he
had escaped the dangers of the ocean, and landed here
in security, where he waited for two of his wives to join
him, as he had left all five of them behind. (“Extracts
from the Journal of Mr. Bingham while at Atooi” 10
Aug. 1822: 163)

A joint letter to the Missionary Herald, written by several of the

Honolulu missionaries and dated May 5, 1823, reminisced about
Ka‘ahumanu’s greeting to those who arrived in Waikīkī on the island
of O‘ahu on Sunday, April 27, 1822. The letter was also published in
The Religious Intelligencer in June, 1824.
[. . .] Kaahoomanoo said to us, “We bid you welcome to
our islands;—our hearts are glad you come—very glad.
We are glad too you come on Taboo day [Sunday], and
have been with us in worship. Give our aloha to all the
new teachers, and their waihinas, (wives,) and tell them
 No Nā Mamo  33

we bid them welcome.”—She then offered to send a

waggon back with us, [. . .] she sent a large company of
men to carry us on their backs through some standing
water which crossed our path. [. . .] while we were
waiting for our boat, several hundred natives collected
around us, and nothing was heard but their hoarse
voices telling each other the story of our arrival. (“Letter
of the Reinforcement” 21)

Upon hearing the words of the queen regent giving her “aloha”
to them, did they understand that it meant her affection, or was this
being interpreted as her greetings?
There is some evidence that they understood it to be merely a
greeting, including this passage from another letter to the Missionary
Herald reprinted in the Religious Intelligencer.
We are desired to send our patrons, and the good people
of America, the affectionate AROHA, (salutation,) of the
king and queen, of Taumuarii and Kaahumanu [. . .].
(“Sandwich Islands” 740)

The Religious Intelligencer reported in its August 14, 1824 issue

that “[t]he missionaries were responsible by agreement, for the port
charges at Hanaroorah; but the king generously remitted them”
(Journal of the Mission 166). The journal then printed a copy of the
king’s letter to Captain Clasby, of their ship.
E Capt. Clasby. Eo.—Aroha oe. Eia kau wahi olelo ia oe.
Maitai no oe i kou haavi ana mai i ka kumu hou. Aole oe
e uku i ke ava a ore akahi. Aroha ino oe. Riho-riho I—i.

To Capt. Clasby. Sir,—Love to you. This is my

communication to you. You have well done, that you
have brought hither the new missionaries. You shall
pay nothing on account of the harbor. Nothing at all.—
Grateful affection for you. Riho-riho I—i. (“Journal of
the Mission” 166–167)

At this point in time I believe the missionaries were already

equating aloha with “the usual compliment” or greetings. They were,
34  Aloha

after all, prominent and full-time residents in the islands and needed
to replace their own salutations and friendly, or at least customary,
hello with something from the indigenous language. Aloha appeared
to be what they heard. And now, as documented by Merriam-
Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary, aloha means hello and goodbye.

Aloha ke Akua
Today, in a deeply Christian-influenced society, we are familiar
with the concept of the love and compassion of Jesus, the Christ,
but in post-contact Hawaiian society that was a new, and perhaps
novel, idea. The missionaries’ theology emphasized repentance and
salvation more than the love of God and the compassion of his son.
The Hawaiian people received them as parents their
firstborn children. [. . .] They went to the missionaries
in procession with gifts in their hands, saying, “What
must we do in order that God may save us?” “You must
repent of your sins, then Jesus Christ will save you.”
(Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 248)

But we see from the mission accounts that this concept of

Christian love and compassion soon became a part of the Hawaiian
consciousness. In a letter from Honolulu dated January 11, 1823 it
was reported that
[t]he queen recited about half of Watt’s catechism.
Kahuhu [brother of John Papa ‘Ī‘ī] read with fluency
a passage from the Bible.—Two others presented their
first essay on composition; and Naihi handed in a
declaration, written in his own hand, containing four
words—“Aroka au ia Jehovo.”—[Aloha au iā Iehova] I
love the Lord. Opiia exhibited fair hand writing, and so
did many others. Honorii gave an address to the pupils,
[. . .] (“Letter from the Mission to the Corresponding
Secretary” 165)

Pua‘aiti (Pua‘aiki) was a notable convert to Christianity for

several reasons. He was blind and deformed. He had “learned the
hula and the lua [. . .] and the kake” (Maurer 7), and he had become
 No Nā Mamo  35

a dancer for the chiefs’ court. He became interested in Christianity

when he was told about the healing miracles of Jesus. When asked
to perform the hula for the chiefs he refused on the grounds that
“henceforth he would serve the king of heaven” (Maurer 4). Known
as Blind Bartimea from the Biblical account of Bartimeus, a similar
blind man, he “was admitted to the church at this place, on the
second Sabbath of last month, [July 1825,] and received in baptism
the name of Bartimeus Lalana. Lalana was added at the request of the
chiefs. It is the native name for London, where the King and Queen
of these islands died” (“Letter from Bartimeus Lalana” 689).

This sketch of Bartimea Lalana Puaaiki is from Oscar E. Maurer’s

Three Early Christian Leaders of Hawaii, where it is noted that it
was “probably made in the United States for Mr. Bingham’s story of
Bartimea printed by the American Tract Society.”
36  Aloha

Bartimea wrote the following letter, labeled “Lahaina, Isle of Maui,

Aug. 2d, 1825,” which appears to be one of the earliest published
lengthy Hawaiian texts by a Native Hawaiian, and he begins by saying
“[l]ove to you.” The Religious Intelligencer prefaced the Hawaiian
translation by saying, “[b]elieving that a few sentences of Hawaiian
would not be unacceptable to our readers, we copy the following from
the beginning of Lalana’s” (“Letter from Bartimeus Lalana” 689).
Ke aloha akunei au ia o ikou, kaikua, ana, ikoulohe anae
nei, ikou inoa Uali ke kaua, ikamakapo, Uama ka po,
kamata okou kino Uamata pohoi, tamata okou kino,
otamata nae, okou naau kai taa taa, Uapihaloa kula,
kou kino, ita malamalama nui, o Jesu Kraist, Uahikimai
nei, ua mala mala la, io maknounei [sic], kehoomala ma
la ma, ia mai nei hoi, kamata, okou naau, eka Uhane
Hemolele, Uauwiuwi ki ma inei hoi, Uama la ma la
mala, ikou naau, Uahikimai nei no, keaoma mua, ikapoe,
Missionary, ma Hawaii, tahiki ana mai, okeao. Aole ma
kou, ima ke ma te, iti atu, enoho ana no, ma kou, ma
ka po eleele loa, Ehuhu atu, ana ma kou, aeehookuke
atu ana matou ia la tou ehelepela, i Oahukou wa hi, ilo
waai, italima mana, oke Atua, ai ko na Aloha wale ana
mai no ia ma kou, i Oahu, kou wa hi ilo he pono ai, Ua
hoola hele, ia, kama te po, e Jesu, Alaida, alaela kamata,
otau naau, Alaid a wau, mihi atu la, imua, ikealo, ote
Atua Aleid a wau haa lele loa tu la, ikou, he wa, a me kou
hoomaunauna anatu i ka olelo maitai a ke Akua. (“Letter
from Bartimeus Lalana” 689–690)

Love to you, Mr. B—. I loved you my elder brother as

soon as I heard your name. We two are alike blind. Your
natural eyes are blind: my natural eyes are blind also. But
the eyes of your mind are widely open, and your body
is completely filled with the great light of Jesus Christ.
The same light has also burst in upon us here. The eyes
of my heart are also enlightened by the Holy Spirit; but
it is only a gleam of light which has yet entered. The day
indeed dawned upon us formerly, on the arrival of the
first company of missionaries. On Hawaii the day then
dawned. We did not then rejoice at all; we continued in
 No Nā Mamo  37

perfect darkness: we were angry with them, and thrust

them away from us, saying, Begone! Oahu was the place
where I first heard of the powerful arm of Jehovah, and of
his great love to us. Oahu was the place where I attentively
listened to the story that Jesus went about to open blind
eyes. There the eyes of my heart opened a little—there I
repented in the presence of God—there I forsook my sins,
and ceased to scoff at the good word of God [. . .]. (“Letter
from Bartimeus Lalana” 689)

During this same period there were still examples being

observed and recorded by the missionaries of the various traditional
expressions of aloha being practiced. Religious instruction and the
development of formal, albeit missionary inspired, greetings did not
radically change or discontinue the traditional value of aloha.
From the Journal of Messrs. Richards and Stewart at Lāhainā
comes this story involving Noa ‘Auwae, a senior traditional
genealogist-historian of the king’s court and a teacher to the scholar
Davida Malo.

Feb. 6 [1824] This evening Auwai [‘Auwae] and wife

returned our call. They came in while we were at the
tea table, but could not be prevailed on to join us.—We
could not but be amused at the evident reason—the
poverty of our board in their eyes. A plate of toast,
with a little force meat, were the only articles, besides
the tea service, on the table, which, for half a dozen
persons, when compared with the variety and quantity
of food placed four times a day before the family of
a chief, appeared to them a most scanty repast. [. . .]
“Aroha ino ia oukou.” [Aloha ‘ino iā ‘oukou] (great is
our compassion for you,) burst from their lips, and they
hastened their return to send us some fish and potatoes
immediately. (“Journal of Messrs. Richards and Stewart
at Lahinah” 24 Sept. 1825: 259)

The following rather rare account of how a commoner, Mauae

or Maua‘e, was welcomed by his family as he guided a group of
missionaries along the trails on the island of Hawai‘i was published
38  Aloha

in the Religious Intelligencer, in part, we are told in the preface, to

demonstrate the Hawaiians’ humanity.
We lately made some extracts from the Tour round
Hawai [sic] by the Missionaries at the Sandwich
Islands. The following specimen of Native affection may
convince some of our misanthropists that these heathen
are men. (“Affecting Scene” 488)

Maua‘e was a member of the court of Governor Kuakini “who

had been sent with canoe, and who, since leaving Honuapo, had
acted as our guide” (Ellis 191). In this detailed account we can see
the many forms of aloha expressed in his welcome. Most traditional
accounts involved the lives of the chiefs, and so these observations of
the family interactions of commoners gives another perspective, one
that is just as highly emotional and has all the cultural elements that
we find in the accounts of the chiefs.
The old people from the houses welcomed him as he
passed along, and numbers of the young men and
women came out to meet him, saluted him by touching
noses, and wept for joy at his arrival. Some took off his
hat, and crowned him with a garland of flowers; others
hung round his neck wreaths of a sweet scented plant,
resembling ivy [maile], or necklaces composed of the nut
of the fragrant pandanus [lei hala].—

[. . .] His father, followed by his brothers and several

other relations, came out, and met him, and under the
shade of a wide-spreading kou tree, fell on his neck, and
wept aloud for some minutes; (“Affecting Scene” 488)

A good example of the synthesis of traditional greetings and

Christian faith is the custom that was invented by William Henry
Uaua. He had been educated at Lāhaināluna School by the American
missionaries and was probably a church member there, and later
he became one of the first native converts to the Mormon Church
(Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints) in the early 1850s. The
story of how he began the use of aloha as a ceremonial greeting in
his church was told by the late William Wallace, a Native Hawaiian
 No Nā Mamo  39

professor at the Brigham Young University at Lā‘ie on the north

shore of the island of O‘ahu.
Uaua was called, 1869, to preside in the Honolulu
district, and, in that capacity, reported his stewardship
semi-annually in mission conferences. In this connection,
he participated in an event at Laie in 1870 which has
had far-reaching effects. At conference in that year,
Uaua introduced a practice which found a permanent
place in Church meetings and elsewhere. As he stood
at the pulpit, without speaking, he withdrew a folded
handkerchief from his breast pocket. He carefully opened
the handkerchief, held it by two corners and “shook it
out” before the congregation, saying, “Aloha from the
Honolulu Conference.” He then placed the handkerchief
flat on the pulpit, asked those assembled to send their
aloha back to his conference in Honolulu by saying it
aloud and in unison. He then folded up the cloth which
now, symbolically, contained the greeting and returned it
to his pocket. He then reported the affairs of his district.
As the next speaker came to the pulpit, he repeated the
“Aloha” greeting with his handkerchief before making
his report. The practice became immediately popular and
marks the beginning of a practice, found nowhere else
in the world or the Church, wherein a speaker begins
his remarks with “Aloha” to which the congregation
responds aloud. (Wallace)

Aloha kekahi i kekahi (Ioane 13:34)

There have been tremendous changes in the teaching and
practice of Christianity since the arrival of the missionaries. Early on
Native Hawaiians engaged in enculturation as they reconciled their
traditional faith and culture with the Western world and Christianity.
The earliest Christian prayer composed by a Native Hawaiian is
credited to a former warrior, Ka‘eleoWaipi‘o, who fought against
Kamehameha at the concluding battle of conquest on the island
O‘ahu. He was spared his life by appealing to Kamehameha’s wife,
Queen Ka‘ahumanu, for refuge. It is reported that he used the
same musical chant used for ‘anā‘anā, or sorcery, for his prayer to
40  Aloha

Christ, “a prayer of salvation and a prayer used on a day of trouble

or distress” (Chun, “Creation” 117). Robert Schreiter, in his book
Constructing Local Theologies, discusses this in terms of similarities,
noting that “[i]n this case, the elements in the invading culture are seen
as analogous to those in the receiving culture” (152). He goes on,
From the perspective of the local culture, this manner
of incorporation provides the easiest accommodation
of the foreign elements intruding upon it. The culture’s
own messages, and to a great extent its own codes, have
remained intact, and the receiving culture may even
believe that it has understood the intent of the incoming
church. (153)

The theological dogma of the early missionaries emphasized

seeking conversion through repentance and salvation to gain new
coverts. This would ultimately change as the mission was ended and
the churches converted to localized governance and to a philosophy
that exemplified God’s love and compassion through his son Jesus.
In this new era converts became full members and church leaders.
But it was slow in coming, for the first Native Hawaiian minister
of the mother church of Kawaiaha‘o, the Rev. Akaiko Akana, was
not “welcomed” until 1917 (Damon 110). There have been Native
Hawaiian ministers since that time.
The crystallization of enculturation could be seen when Hawai‘i
became the fiftieth state in the union and the late Rev. Abraham
Akaka was the minister of Kawaiaha‘o Church. Akaka was giving
the invocation for the Territorial Senate at ‘Iolani Palace when the
news broke out of admission to the United States, and he could hear
the firecrackers and sirens outside. The next morning at his parish
of Kawaiaha‘o, diagonally across the street, a packed house gathered
for prayer and celebration listened to his sermon entitled “Aloha ke
Akua.” He wove elements of the traditional concept of aloha with
those of Christianity, something the early missionary clerics never
even considered, and to these, added concepts of the diversity of the
modern world to expound upon an idea and define the “Aloha State.”
Akaka used the analogy of an old mele hula for Pele, “Haku‘i i ka
uahi o ka lua, [. . .] There is a fire underground,” to evoke the image
 No Nā Mamo  41

of the “lifting of the clouds of smoke, as the opportunity to affirm

positively the basic Gospel [. . .] to see that Hawaii has potential
moral and spiritual contributions to make to our nation and to our
world” as “living witnesses of what we really are in Hawaii, of the
spirit of Aloha [. . .].” And that led him to define what that spirit is.
We do not understand the meaning of Aloha until we
realize its foundation in the power of God at work in
the world. Since the coming of our missionaries in
1820, the name for God to our people has been Aloha.
One of the first sentences I learned from my mother
in my childhood was this from Holy Scripture: “Aloha
ke Akua”—in other words, “God is Aloha.” Aloha is
the power of God seeking to unite what is separated in
the world—the power that unites heart with heart, soul
with soul, life with life, culture with culture, race with
race, nation with nation. Aloha is the power that can
reunite when a quarrel has brought separation; aloha is
the power that reunites a man with himself when he has
become separated from the image of God within.

Thus, when a person or a people live in the spirit of

Aloha they live in the spirit of God. And among such a
people, whose lives so affirm their inner being, we see
the working of the Scripture: “All things work together
for good to them who love God . . . from the Aloha of
God came his Son that we might have life and that we
might have it more abundantly.”

Aloha consists of this new attitude of heart, above

negativism, above legalism. It is the unconditional desire
to promote the true good of other people in a friendly
spirit, out of a sense of kinship. Aloha seeks to do good,
with no conditions attached. We do not do good only
to those who do good to us. One of the sweetest things
about the love of God, about Aloha, is that it welcomes
the stranger and seeks his good. A person who has the
spirit of Aloha loves even when the love is not returned.
And such is the love of God.

This is the meaning of Aloha. (Akaka n. pag.)

42  Aloha

Archbishop Desmond Tutu told a well-known story about the

missionaries and native Christians, saying that the missionaries gave
the Bible and took the land. I have heard a similar explanation used
in Hawai‘i, that Hawaiians are so full of the spirit of aloha that they
gave all their lands away. This small episode in the development of
Hawaiian Christianity shows how the traditional concept of aloha
had changed, whether good or bad. Akaka, in his sermon, also
acknowledged that statehood “brings silent fears” especially for
Native Hawaiians.
There are fears that Hawaii as a state will be motivated
by economic greed; that statehood will turn Hawaii (as
someone has said) into a great big spiritual junkyard
filled with smashed dreams, worn-out illusions; that
it will make the Hawaiian people lonely, confused,
insecure, empty, anxious, restless, disillusioned—a
wistful people. (Akaka n. pag.)

In this brief statement from his sermon, was Akaka hinting

at the future commercialization of tourism and its possible tragic
consequences for Hawaiian culture and his precious spirit of aloha?
Answers to that question have been debated since statehood and
continued to be debated quietly as we marked the 50th anniversary
of statehood and moved on. It is a bigger debate than I can wisely
summarize here. Instead, I want to return to where I began with Her
Majesty the Queen and her thoughts about aloha.

Aloha ‘Oe
Earlier I asked the question, “What did Her Majesty mean
that aloha and its meaning belonged to Hawaiians while alo-o-oha
belonged to non-Hawaiians?” To understand the motivations and
actions of H. M. Queen Lili‘uokalani it must be understood that
she was a Christian monarch, something that was demonstrated
particularly through her experiences of imprisonment at ‘Iolani
Palace. Locked up in her own private bedroom, overseen by guards
and spies of the provisional government, she was allowed only two
books: the Bible and the Book of Common Prayer. Few visitors were
allowed to see her, and the ministers of her own church were not
 No Nā Mamo  43

among them. Instead, she was visited by the Anglican bishop and
nuns who had given her refuge when she was accused of fermenting a
counter-revolution against the provisional government.
Imprisoned, Her Majesty used the time to write and compose,
and the first project she took upon herself was to rewrite Aloha ‘Oe.
As described by Allen (148) and Hui Hānai (Lili‘uokalani, The Queen’s
Songbook 38), she had first composed this song around 1878 after
witnessing an emotional goodbye at the Boyd ranch in Maunawili
on the island of O‘ahu. In 1883 it was “sung for the first time in the
United States, sung by the beautiful Hawaiian singer Nani Alapai. The
song soon swept the nation, and later the world” (Allen 188).
At the time of the re-write, some interpreted it as a “farewell
to her country” and some as “a great love song” (Allen 346), but
Allen contends there is another meaning underscoring the Christian
influence in the queen’s life.

The sheet music of Aloha ‘Oe was published in San Francisco

in 1890 or 1891. Today, reproductions of this original sheet
music can be purchased at the ‘Iolani Palace gift shop.
44  Aloha

There however were, as in all true Hawaiian songs, three

interpretations. The obvious one: beautiful description
of the rain, the cliffs, the flowers. The analogy the
Hawaiians knew: union of man-woman-nature-gods.
And the mystical, the kahuna knew: the union of all-in-
all, the “Christ” revelation of man’s individual unity with
God. Therefore only a few of the older, knowledgeable
Hawaiians recognized the meaning of the rain striking
the lehua blossom signifying marital union and unity
of the people and the land, and further the mystical
marriage of Christ, revealed in the old mele, but also in
Revelations. (Allen 346)

It is obvious there was a difference between the two usages of the

same word to her. Her culture and faith determined that there is a
greater depth and quality to the word aloha than what was expressed
when it was surreptitiously used as a greeting. A little-remembered
incident occurred in the spring of 1910 that captures the depth of her
understanding of the concept of aloha. Lili‘uokalani was returning
to the islands after lobbying for seven months to stop the process
of annexation. Her efforts had not been successful, and the islands
would soon become part of the United States of America. She
disembarked from the ship and was greeted by a large crowd.
David Kawananakoa went aboard the Gaelic to escort
Liliuokalani down the gang plank. A small tent-like
enclosure had been placed on deck to protect the “ex-
queen” from “prying eyes,” [. . .] She wore black from
her plumed hat to toes that moved straight forward in
Onipaa.

She paused for a moment and looked down upon

the upturned faces of the Hawaiians. Tears flowed
uninhibitedly from the eyes of both men and women.
There was a total silence, permeated with a love that
enveloped the crowd and the queen. Liliuokalani paused
[. . .]. Then her musical voice rich with emotion broke
the silence.

“Aloha.” (Allen 362)

 No Nā Mamo  45

I think the message we are getting, through Lydia Aholo’s

reminiscences and Helena Allen’s words, from all these examples,
and especially from Lili‘uokalani’s reactions, is that aloha is special
because it upholds, reaffirms, and binds relationships. Aloha should
not be taken lightly. It should not be used casually or frivolously. She
reminded her bandmaster and confidant Henri Berger that this song
of farewell, “Aloha ‘Oe,” she had introduced to the world was not to
be sung at her funeral as a funeral dirge.
The funeral song, because it best symbolized her life,
should have been “The Queen’s Prayer.” But it was not
included in the service. (Allen 399)

I have been hoping to show this depth and quality in this story of
the traditional roots of aloha and its usage by Hawaiians. In doing so,
I have discovered how the word has evolved from a truly Hawaiian
word, to one changed by outside influences, and finally to yet another
form of usage, similar but still different.
All these changes should make us not just pause, but stop for a
reality check as to how much we really know and understand about
the word aloha. Is it just “hello,” or is it “my love to you?” That may
seem trivial to some, but this appropriation, sometimes politely called
cultural borrowing, of aloha into a haole or Euro-American salutation
has made it an international word. It may not be the most important
word for Hawaiians, as Westin Vacation Services claims, but it
certainly is one of the most renowned, easily recognized, and, perhaps,
exotic words to everyone else around the world, and one that has
become a very marketable and economically profitable one, too.
46  Welina

3 Welina
Traditional and Contemporary Ways of Welcome and Hospitality

Mai! Mai! Komo mai maloko nei.

E noho iho a ku‘u ka luhi, hele e ‘ai.
Come! Come! Come inside here. Sit down and rest till your
weariness is gone from you, then have something to eat.
Pukui, ‘Olelo No‘eau

Inā ho‘i he huaka‘i kā kāua na ke aloha, he aloha mai nōho‘i ko uka.

Kalola to Kalani‘ōpu‘u

Ēa! Hele loa nō ka, ‘a‘ole ka e aloha mai.

Kanikaniula to Eleio

I love to tell this story now, but when we were little kids it scared
the heck out of us, though I suppose it was meant to do so. I had
an aunt who was a school teacher in Kona, and her time spent there
enabled her to be a very good story teller. She loved to tell stories of
Pele, the goddess of the volcano. Even if we had heard the stories over
and over again, they were so entertaining and spooky, especially at a
bedtime gathering after a large family meal.
This is her story: In a small village on the mountain slopes there
lived several families. In one home they welcomed all the strangers
who passed by and stopped to ask for rest and refreshments. Further
down the pathway there was another household that was just the
opposite. They did not trust anyone who came by their house and
would not share any food or water, or even their shade.
One day an old woman came walking through the village and
stopped by the first house. She was warmly greeted and given some
food and water. She rested for a while and then said good-bye and
journeyed down the pathway. She then stopped at the second house,
called out, and asked if anyone was home. There was only the sound
of the wind whistling through the house. She called out again and
again. Finally a voice yelled back, “Go away! You are not welcome
here. We don’t have enough food and water for you, old woman!”
 No Nā Mamo  47

The old woman felt very hurt by these words and hurried off down
the pathway.
A few nights later, the elder of the first household had a dream in
which he was visited by the old woman. She told him that they must
place four white flags around their house to mark the boundaries of
their property. They were told not to let their neighbors know what
they were doing or the reasons for doing so.
The next day they planted white flags at the four corners of their
property and waited for the old woman to pass by again. Instead,
the volcano erupted, and as the ground shook, lava flowed down
the mountain slope. As it sped downwards, it broke into a fork and
passed around the home marked with the white flags. The household
that would not greet anyone, however, was covered by the lava flow,
killing everyone in it.
The old woman was none other than Pele, the goddess of the
volcano, in the form of an old woman. As we listened in the stillness
of the night, we were admonished: “That is why you must welcome
all who pass by and stop at your doorway, especially an old woman,
for you never know if it is Pele herself.”
Why do we continue to tell these stories? Perhaps today some
view them merely as “ghost stories” to entertain young children or
enjoyable legends used to share a little Hawaiian culture. I believe,
however, that is not why such stories were shared. The moral of the
Pele story, for example, is not to invoke fear of Pele and her anger,
but to teach that old people who traveled long distances needed
to receive rest and refreshment during their journey. In more
general terms, it is to remind people of the importance of being
hospitable by emphasizing opposite behavior (hewa) and its eventual
consequences, for we know, as Mary Kawena Pukui remarked,
“Hospitality was typical of all Hawaiians on all of the islands. My
own parents, our relatives, friends and associates were always glad to
share whatever they had, be it little or large” (Handy and Pukui 186).

Hawaiian Welcoming Traditions and Practices

In Hawaiian traditions, we find many reminders of the importance
of welcoming visitors. One well-known account is related to the
meaning of the place name Nānākuli on the leeward side of O‘ahu.
48  Welina

Although the compound name Nānā-kuli appears to have several

meanings, the most widely known was recorded by Mary Kawena
Pukui during an interview with informant Simeona Nawa‘a. He
shared that he had gotten his information from “a native woman of
Wai‘anae who told him why this place was so named.”
Because of the great scarcity of water and vegetable
food, they were ashamed to greet passing strangers. They
remained out of sight as much as possible. Sometimes
they met people before they were able to hide, so they
just looked at strangers with expressionless faces and
acted as though they were stone deaf and did not hear the
greeting. This was so that the strangers would not ask for
water which they did not have in that locality.

The strangers would go on to the other places and mention

the peculiar, deaf people who just stared and they would
be told that the people were not deaf but ashamed of their
inability to be hospitable. So the place they lived was called
Nana, or look, and kuli, deaf — that is, Deaf mutes who
just look. (Sterling and Summers 61–62)

A similar idea is to be found in the tradition of Kūlepe.

Kulepe once upon a time set out from Oahu and landed
at Kalaupapa in Molokai and proceeded to the first
house seen by him, where he found the people eating
with their heads bowed down, and who never looked up
to see who the stranger was. Kulepe was hungry and this
was the reason why he called at this house. [. . .]

After a while Kulepe again called out: (He did this with
the hope of being able to get the people to invite him to
sit down with them and take some food, without asking
outright for the food.)

Say, Molokai, raise your paddles.

When you look down, the darkness you see is pili grass,
And the black things, the heads of people.

These words of Kulepe were meant for themselves, on

account of the way they gormandized the food and fish;
 No Nā Mamo  49

of the fingers dipping the poi and raising them aloft

[the raised paddles], while the dishes were loaded with
fish, that only the dark color of the hair was manifest
as their heads were bowed [the pili grass and the dark
heads], and of their eating and then whistling. (Fornander
V: 172)

In Hawaiian proverbs or wisdom statements, we find several

references to such a lack of hospitality in certain communities. The
following are but a few more examples:

O‘ahu maka ‘ewa‘ewa (O‘ahu with indifferent eyes) was “a term

of reproach to O‘ahu people, said to have been said by Hi‘iaka when
her O‘ahu relatives refused to help her mend a canoe for a journey to
Kaua‘i” (Pukui and Elbert 1986: 42).
Kalaoa ‘ai pō‘ele‘ele (Kalaoa eats in the dark) describes the people
of Kalaoa in east Hilo on the island of Hawai‘i. They “were noted for
their lack of hospitality. To avoid having to ask visitors or passers-by
to partake of food with them, they ate in the dark where they could
not be seen” (Pukui, ‘Ōlelo No‘eau 155).
Na ka pua‘a e ‘ai; a na ka pua‘a ana paha e ‘ai ([It is] for the pigs
to eat; and perhaps the pigs will taste [you]) is based upon a story of
a missionary and his two Hawaiian companions. They had reached
Keonepoko in the district of Puna on the island of Hawai‘i and were
hungry and tired. “Seeing some natives removing cooked breadfruit
from an imu, they asked if they could have some. ‘No,’ said the
natives, ‘it is for the pigs to eat.’ So the visitors moved on. Not long
after, leprosy broke out among the people of Puna. The first to
contract it were taken to O‘ahu and later on to Kalaupapa. Others
died at home and were buried. When the last ones finally died, there
was no one to bury them, and the pigs feasted on their bodies. Thus,
justice was served” (Pukui, ‘Ōlelo No‘eau 244).
Ho‘ohewahewa ke aloha, aia i Puna i Nānāwale (Love failed to
recognize him, for it is gone to Puna, to Nānāwale) (Pukui, ‘Ōlelo
No‘eau 113) is a proverb that uses a word play on the place name
of Nānā-wale or literally “only looking.” It was considered rude or
insulting for a person not to call out or greet another, particularly if
they knew each other.
50  Welina

Mū ka waha heahea ‘ole (Silent is the mouth of the inhospitable)

(Pukui, ‘Ōlelo No‘eau 239) is another such proverb.

In the tradition of the man-eating ghost of O‘ahu, Hanaaumoe,

hospitality is used as a device to entice travelers to land ashore only
to be later eaten.
This is the only island that is without ghosts, the island
of Halalii. Come ashore, we have food ashore [. . .], and
we also have women. The canoe men can have as many
as two or three, while your chief, Kahaookamoku shall
have five, therefore you must come ashore. (Fornander
V: 428)

The Need for Kānāwai in Traditional Society

This need to be reminded to show hospitality may seem
surprising given Hawai‘i’s image as the “aloha” state. In traditional
Hawai‘i, there were several kānāwai ‘edicts or laws’ proclaimed by
the paramount chiefs to ensure the safety of children and of the weak
or elderly. One might have assumed that such protections were an
inherent part of traditional society. But we cannot assume that this
was always the case.
The kānāwai Nī‘aupi‘o Kolowalu, issued during the reign of
Kūali‘i on the island of O‘ahu, “provided that old men and old
women could go and sleep [in safety] on the highway, and also
that farmers and fishermen had to welcome strangers and feed the
hungry” (Kamakau, Ka Po‘e Kahiko 14). Kamehameha proclaimed
a similar kānāwai called Māmalahoe stating, “Let the old men,
the old women, and the children sleep [in safety] on the highway”
(Kamakau, Ka Po‘e Kahiko 15). This became the kānāwai of the
kingdom when Kamehameha brought all the islands under one rule.
It is clear from the traditions that people sometimes had to
be reminded of the proper manner in which to treat strangers.
Laws were enacted to ensure the daily practice of acceptable public
behavior since such actions could not always be guaranteed. Stories
and legends also served to reinforce desired social behaviors related
to welcome and hospitality, stories that we can read today to help us
understand how these behaviors fit into daily life.
 No Nā Mamo  51

Hospitality in Traditional Society

In the tradition of the high chief Lonoikamakahiki, we are told of
his return to the island of Hawai‘i. He stopped by the island of Maui
and was “royally welcomed” by the reigning chief Kamalālāwalu.
Kamakau’s recollection of this event gives an interesting description
of the preparation of the chiefs’ food by their head stewards.
Kama’s stewards and food-preparers made their chief ’s
food ready. Lono did not say what he wished for the
evening. [. . .] Kama’s food and ‘awa had been prepared
beforehand, but the food that Lono wished was not ready.
Lono asked for his broiled chicken, and his head steward
answered, “It is not ready.” The chief felt ashamed because
his food was not ready. Maui’s chief made Hawaii’s feel
humiliated by showing the readiness of his servants. Lono
gave his steward, named Puapua-kea, a blow that drew
blood from his nose. The meal was to be served in the
chief ’s eating house, but nothing was ready there.

Puapua-kea, still bleeding, [. . .] made a fire [. . .]. He

tore pieces of ‘awa, put them in his mouth, grasped the
chicken, tore off a wing, rubbed salt on it, and placed it
on the fire; tore off a leg and laid it on the fire. He had
one ball of ‘awa and then a second which was enough.
The steward said, “The chief did not say anything to
the servant. If he had, the servant would have deserved
the beating.” The chicken cooked very quickly, and the
‘awa was ready in a cup before the ‘awa of the chief of
Maui had time to take effect. (Ruling Chiefs 53)

Although we are given a good idea about the preparation of

foods, this is more about a contest between chiefs and retainers for
prestige than about hospitality. In another royal welcome from The
History of Kanalu, we have this image of a welcome.
Kahikoluamea, the old man said, “Is the food for the
visitor ready?” The head steward replied, “It is ready.”
The eating mat of the chiefs and the visitor chief was
set down. They ate with great honor, the council of
chiefs for Pilika‘aka‘a. (Nāmakaokeahi English 66)
52  Welina

Later on there is another welcome for the prophet, Pā‘ao.

[. . .] it was evening as the canoes entered [into the
bay] and the drums ‘Owela and Kukona were sounded
for the arrival of Pā‘ao. The drum Kaiuli on board
of Pā‘ao’s canoe was sounded [in reply]. The drum,
‘Oma‘o also on board was sounded and the conch shell
Kīhapū was blown. The menehune saw their chiefly lord,
Pā‘ao. The signs and omens of the lofty sky (lewa nu‘u)
of the priest chiefs of the darkness were again opened
(wehe hou).

The canoes beached ashore of the island, the canoe

of Pā‘ao. Pā‘ao quickly was engulfed by the people.
When [they] were done looking at each other, Pā‘ao
entered into his house with the chiefs. All the food was
prepared “to fill the pit of anger.”

The chiefs sat together in unity with the peace of Kāne

[. . .]. (Nāmakaokeahi English 100)

The use of drums and conch shell as signals of approach and

welcome for these canoes is most interesting, but what is lacking is
the detail of how they greeted each other: what did they eat, and what
happened during this ritual encounter? I believe that information was
so commonplace that it is not important for the story teller to describe
those details. For this, we have to wait until people arrive who see those
actions as important to remember and record, our first tourists.
The details and descriptions given in the various accounts
of Captain Cook’s “discovery” of the Hawaiian islands are
extraordinary, rather than everyday, events simply because Cook
was received by the chiefs not as a stranger but as a form of the god
Lonoikamakahiki, or Lono. But when the ships first sighted land,
which was the island of Kaua‘i, we are told
Some canoes came out, their crews shouting and
gesturing in amazement, and when they came
alongside Cook gave them red cloth, nails and trinkets.
They seemed delighted by these gifts, particularly the
iron, and some of them handed up their loincloths as
 No Nā Mamo  53

return presents. The sailors were [. . .] thrilled when

their visitors assured them that there were plenty of
pigs, chickens, breadfruit, sweet potatoes, plantains,
sugar-cane and coconuts on their island. The canoes
contained piles of stones, but when they found that
the strangers were friendly, the Hawai‘ians threw their
missiles into the ocean. (Salmond, The Trial 380)

This was not a royal welcome, and the defensive weapons

indicate the occupants of the canoes were not all that sure of what
and whom they were approaching, but things would dramatically
change once the strangers came ashore and the chiefs of Kaua‘i were
in charge.
Several hundred people had gathered on the beach, and
when Cook went ashore, accompanied by a guard of
marines, they fell flat on their faces—the kapu moe, or
ritual prostration. They remained in this position until
he signalled to them to rise, and then presented him
with a great many small pigs, and plantain branches.
(Salmond, The Trial 382)

Captain Clerke of the Discovery had been sick when the ships
arrived at Kealakekua Bay on the island of Hawai‘i and went ashore
later than the rest of the party. His welcome was still a chiefly one, for
he is presented with a feather cloak and draped with kapa. Salmond
provides a bit more detail.
When they [Captain Clerke and Dr. Samwell] arrived
at the chiefs’ settlement, Palea hurried out to meet
them. He was accompanied by an attendant carrying a
pig, a chicken and a coconut, and as he greeted them
he draped a piece of red cloth around Captain Clerke’s
neck, and put a piece of white cloth around Samwell’s
shoulders. While his attendant slaughtered two pigs
and cooked them for their breakfast, Palea went off and
soon returned with a splendid red and yellow feather
cloak which he put around Clerke’s shoulders, tying
a piece of red cloth around his waist. He set the table
himself, spreading plantain leaves on the ground and
54  Welina

a piece of fresh white bark-cloth, with five coconuts

stripped of their rind, two wooden dishes filled with
pork and two platters of cold sweet potatoes. He tore
the pork to pieces, chewing it and offering to feed them
by hand [. . .]. (The Trial 401)

What was shown, without the fine presentations of gifts to

Clerke, is very similar to the later accounts of the missionaries,
who came as settlers rather than as tourists. Their curiosity and
desire to know more about native culture and behavior, for various
reasons including their own surprise, led to some of the most
detailed descriptions of traditional hospitality, and it all verifies how
commonplace hospitality was.
Tamoree [Kaumuali‘i], being early apprised of his
[Liholiho, the King] arrival, rose, and, with apparent
composure, dressed himself, and, in a small canoe,
with two or three attendants, went out quietly on
board the king’s boat, gave him his friendly aloha,
and the customary salutation of joining noses, (while
the company expressed great joy at seeing Tamoree,)
then conducted him ashore, and appropriated to his
use a large and convenient house, well fitted for his
reception, spread with the beautiful Onehow [Ni‘ihau]
- mats; and, at the young king’s earnest request, lest
his people at Woahoo [O‘ahu] should conclude that
he was drowned in the sea, or killed at Atooi [Kaua‘i],
despatched two of his vessels, a brig and schooner, to
inform them [. . .]. (“Extracts from the Journal of Mr.
Bingham while at Atooi” 10 Aug. 1822: 163)

Unlike the encounter with Cook’s expedition, the arrival of the

American missionaries forty-two years later brought people who
came as residents rather than tourists. Also unlike Cook’s expedition,
the missionaries did not arrive on a “cruise ship” but had to be
lodged wherever they went. Without inns or hotels, they had to seek
accommodations among the villages where they stopped.
The inhabitants treated us hospitably. Coming thirsty
to the foot of fort hill, I asked the natives, whose huts
 No Nā Mamo  55

line the shore, for a neoo (cocoa-nut). One of them ran

to a tree and brought me a large one, containing nearly
a quart of milk. He tore off the thick, fibrous husk with
his teeth, and cracked the shell for me, and I walked
along, up and down the hill, draining the milk, and
eating the meat of my cocoa-nut and sharing it with my
companions. We then sailed up the river a mile or two
[. . .] and walked back to the river’s mouth, where the
head men of the place had prepared a dinner for us. A
pig, baked with hot stones covered in the ground, set
before us on a large shallow wooden tray; taro, baked
in the same manner, pounded and laid on green leaves;
bannanas [sic], rich and yellow, handed to us as ripe
fruit; and water served to us in a tumbler made of the
neck of a gourd, composed our dinner, which, reclined
on the mats, we received with thanksgiving. (“Extracts
from the Journal of Mr. Bingham while at Atooi” 17
Aug. 1822: 177–178)

The most impressive description of a traditional welcome and

the following hospitality is given by the Reverend William Ellis,
reprinted in the Religious Intelligencer, when his traveling party is
received at the home village of their guide, Mauae. This is not a royal
or chiefly welcome or a welcoming of strangers, but a homecoming
for a native-born son.
We approached Kaimu. This was the birth place of
Mauae, a young man who accompanied the deputation,
and the residence of most of his relations. He walked
before us as we entered the village. The old people
from the houses welcomed him as he passed along, and
numbers of the young men and women came out to
meet him, saluted him by touching noses, and wept for
joy at his arrival. Some took off his hat, and crowned
him with a garland of flowers; others hung round his
neck wreaths of a sweet scented plant, resembling
ivy [maile], or necklaces composed of the nut of the
fragrant pandanus [lei hala].—When we reached the
house where his sister lived, she ran to meet him, threw
her arms round his neck, and having affectionately
56  Welina

embraced him, walked hand and hand with him through

the village. Multitudes of young people and children
followed, chanting his name, the names of his parents,
the place and circumstances of his birth, and the most
remarkable events in the history of his family, in a lively
song, which he afterward informed us, was composed
at his birth. [. . .] His father, followed by his brothers
and several other relations, came out, and met him, and
under the shade of a wide-spreading kou tree, fell on
his neck, and wept aloud for some minutes; after which
they took him by the hand, and led him though a neat
little garden into the house. He seated himself on a mat
on the floor, while his brothers and sisters gather [sic]
round him. Some unloosed his sandals. [sic] and rubbed
his limbs; others clasped his hand, frequently saluting
it by touching it with their noses; others brought him a
calabash of water, or a lighted tobacco pipe. One of his
sisters, in particular, seemed considerably affected. She
clasped his hand, and sat for some time weeping by his
side. At this we should have been surprised, had we not
known it to be the usual manner among the South Sea
Islanders of expressing unusual joy or grief. [. . .] On first
reaching the house, we had thrown ourselves down on a
mat, and remained silent spectators, not however without
being considerably affected by the interesting scene. We
had been sitting in the house about an hour, when a small
hog nicely baked under ground, with some good sweet
potatoes, was brought in for dinner, of which we were
kindly invited to partake. (“Affecting Scene” 488)

The deep affection that exists within families can also be seen in
this account of the chief Ka‘iana when he located his father living on
Ni‘ihau. The moment must have affected David Samwell deeply, for
he wrote this poignant description of the moment on Friday, March
12, 1779.
Taiana, the Man who came in the Resolution from
Atowai, met his father who lives upon this Island &
whom he had not seen for some time; their meeting
was truly affectionate, they sat down & threw their
 No Nā Mamo  57

Arms round each other and wept aloud at the same time
repeating some words, they continued thus giving vent
to their passions for about a quarter of an hour with
a croud of people about them, they then saluted each
other by touching their Noses; the Son while he had
his arms round his father put a Toi which he happened
to have about him into his Maro or girdle as a present.
(Beaglehole 1,229–1,230)

William Ellis, like many of the missionaries, traveled extensively

around the islands, and in doing so, he often invoked Hawaiian
hospitality for food, water, and shelter. Ellis gave this very important
description of a welcome.
A transient visitor on arriving among them will generally
have an entertainment provided, of which the persons
who furnish it seldom partake. The family with which we
lodged were, however, induced to join us this evening at
supper, though contrary to their ideas of propriety. (247)

He added,

Connected with this, another custom, equally at variance

with our views of hospitality, is practised by the guests, who
invariably carry away all that remains of the entertainment,
however abundant it may have been. (247)

What Ellis means by “entertainment” is food and drink. The

prevailing custom he describes is that when “entertainment” can be
provided, it all belongs to the guest, even after the meal is over, so that
the guest will have something to take on the journey. Hiram Bingham
confirmed this practice in his journal when he wrote that “[i]n many
cases, the host sits by, while travelling guests make their meal and stow
for subsequent meals the residue of what is set before them” (193).
In the tradition of Niho‘oleki, we are told that one day his friend
Kamapua‘a intended to pay a visit.
Before Nihooleki set out on a certain day to fish he gave
his wife the following instruction: “In case a man with
the dropsy should come, call him in as he is my friend.”
58  Welina

After Nihooleki had started, Kamapuaa arrived and

came and looked in at the door. “You filthy man,
begone,” said the wife of Nihooleki. Kamapuaa with the
men that carried him down, went over to the hog pen
and there waited for the return of Nihooleki his friend.
When Nihooleki returned with the fish, he came and
kissed his friend, and then turned to his wife and said:
“You are indeed strange. I told you to take good care
of my friend, but you have not done so. Never mind,
you may stay, but I am going along with my friend.” He
then told his friend to give some of the fish to the men
who brought him down. (Fornander IV: 496)

Why is hospitality valued so much among Hawaiians? The most

obvious reason is that people traveled long distances and could not
carry heavy loads of food and water with them, especially when
traveling on foot through hot and arid places such as Nānākuli. One
of the most familiar calls in the Hawaiian language, still retained
today, is “Mai! Hele mai! E ‘ai!” ‘Come. Come here and eat!’ or “E
komo mai e ‘ai!” ‘Come inside and eat!’

The Importance of Relationships

In these accounts, we note the emergence of another compelling
reason to offer greetings and display hospitality, the importance of
establishing and maintaining relationships with others. One of the
most descriptive accounts of the importance of such relationships
and the emotional quality of aloha that binds people is found in the
battle of Kakanilua.
In this battle, Kalani‘ōpu‘u and the chiefs of Hawai‘i invade
Maui to attack Kahekili, his chiefs, and his people. When it appears
the invading forces are to be routed and defeated, Kalani‘ōpu‘u
appeals to his wife, Kalola, to intervene in order to save his remaining
warriors and chiefs. (There is a more detailed discussion of this event
in the chapter on Ho‘oponopono.)
When Ka-lani-‘opu‘u saw that the forces of Hawaii were
surrounded by Ka-hekili’s men he said to Ka-lola his
chiefess, “O Hono-ka-wai-lani! we shall all be killed.
 No Nā Mamo  59

Do go up to your brother Ka-hekili to sue for peace.”

Ka-lola answered, “It will not do any good for me to go,
for we came to deal death. If we had come offering love
we should have been received with affection. I can do
nothing. Our only hope lies in Ka-lani-kau-i-ke-aouli
Kiwala‘o.” (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 88)

In ancient Hawai‘i, personal ties and relationships were

sometimes readily established by the simple gesture of greeting
a person by his or her name. This is illustrated in the legend of
‘Aukelenuiaikū.
When the birds arrived in the presence of
Aukelenuiaiku, he greeted them one by one saying:
“My greetings to you, Kanemoe. My greetings to you,
Kaneapua. My greetings to you, Leapua. My greetings
to you, Kahaumana.” At this they all returned the
greeting, saying: “Our greetings to you.” After greeting
Aukelenuiaiku, they fell to conversing in low tones
between themselves, wondering how it was possible
that their names were known. After a while Kanemoe
said: “How wonderful! How did he come to know our
names? And what are we going to give him for this?”
(Fornander IV: 56)

Another example of the importance of greetings and establishing

a relationship is the story of Eleio, a fast runner on his way to Kaupō
on the island of Maui. This occurred when he overtook a woman
named Kanikaniaula.
Upon his arrival at Kaupo one day he found a woman
by the name of Kanikaniaula sitting by the roadside,
but he passed right along without noticing her.
Kanikaniaula at this want of respect on the part of Eleio
called out after him: “Say, are you going to pass right
along without greetings?” When Eleio heard this call he
turned back and greeted her. Kanikaniaula then invited
him to the house which invitation was accepted by
Eleio. (Fornander IV: 482)
60  Welina

In the tradition of ‘Umi, an ‘ōlelo aloha ‘message of love’ is

requested to be conveyed to another chief. This message is deemed to
be of the utmost importance.
When Omaokamau was about ready to make his return,
Piikea called Omaokamau, to whom she gave her love
message, saying: “Omaokamau, you are about to return
to the presence of the great king of Hawaii. When you
meet him, give him my love.” (Fornander IV: 216)

Similarly in the tradition of Kila, this dialogue of an actual

greeting is given:

At this Kila addressed her saying: “My greetings to you,

Kanepohihi.”
Kanepohihi replied: “The same to you.”
Kila continued: “Your grandchild and lord send you
aloha greetings.”
Kanepohihi asked: “Who is this grandchild and lord of
mine?”
Kila answered: “Moikeha.”
Kanepohihi again asked: “Is Moikeha then still alive?”
Kila replied: “He is still alive.”
Kanepohihi again asked: “What is he doing?”
Kila then chanted the following in a pleasing way: [. . .].”
(Fornander IV: 162)

We can see in a traditional account of the chief Kihapi‘ilani,

told by Fornander (V: 179) and re-translated by the author, how the
renewal of one’s relationships immediately commands hospitality.
[. . .] Upon arriving at the house, Kihapiilani began to
wail and wept tears. Umi said, “Who among us is related
to you, is it I or is it her?” Kihapiilani said, “It is your
wife.” Piikea said, “I do not recognize you.” Kihapiilani
replied, “Lonoapii is the eldest, then Piikea, Kihawahine,
and Kihapiilani. I am Kihapiilani your youngest.” Piikea
jumped up crying. She ordered Umi to prepare some
food for his brother-in-law. Kihapiilani ate with these
friends until he was full. (Author’s translation)
 No Nā Mamo  61

Ceremonial Welcomes
It is important to note that the levels of formality and intimacy
of greetings between two people, whether family members or friends,
change with the rank and status of a person. This has been shown
in the types of welcomes for chiefs, like Lono and Cook, and for
ordinary people like Mauae. We have also seen this in the account of
the battle of Kakanilua where the presence of Kīwala‘ō, a young boy
of high status, altered the outcome of the battle. Kamakau noted such
differences in his descriptions of greetings between chiefs and those
between common people. He observed that
The old Hawaiian ways of salutation were touching
noses, bowing the head, greeting with the mouth,
weeping, rolling on the ground, or kneeling as a sign of
submission. These were forms taught by early Hawaiian
parents. There were other forms required in the
households of chiefs, but the country people expressed
their affection in these ways. Even when in modern
times the old ways have been discountenanced the
country people still keep up the ways of their ancestors.
(italics added for emphasis) (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 249)

Many times these welcomes and greetings are public, involving

large numbers of people. Such encounters become ceremonial and
full of rituals. These rituals are oftentimes quite elaborate in order to
bestow the respect and honor commanded by the status and rank of
the guest. Ceremonies such as these often create a production worthy
of remembrance.
We have already seen one detailed account of such a ceremonial
welcome from The History of Kanalu when the drums and conch
were sounded for the arrival of Pā‘ao. Fornander provides another in
the tradition of Moikeha.
Late in the evening the people of Kau heard the beating
of a drum together with the notes of a kaeke flute [‘ohe
ka‘eke], which startled them and they rushed out to see
where these sounds came from. When they got outside
they saw that these sounds came from aboard of a
double canoe. Upon seeing this the people remarked: “It
62  Welina

is the canoe of the god Kupulupulu. These sounds came

from that canoe.” When the people heard that it was
Kupulupulu’s canoe they prepared food and swine as
offerings to the god. (Fornander IV: 154)

During the first encounters with Captain Cook, this was

remembered.
The chief Ki‘ikiki and the kahuna Ku-‘ohu, each clothed
in a fine girdle of tapa cloth about the loins and a red
tapa garment caught about the neck, stepped forward
with the left fist clenched and, advancing before Captain
Cook, stepped back a pace and bowed as they murmured
a prayer; then, seizing his hands, they knelt down and
the tabu was freed. (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 93)

Before Captain Cook arrived at Kealakekua Bay on the island

of Hawai‘i, he had, as described above, had several encounters
with Native Hawaiians, both chiefs and commoners. There were
presentations of what appear to be gifts to Cook, such as a small pig,
fruits and vegetables, and even some material things like kapa ‘bark
cloth’ and ‘awa drinking bowls.
David Samwell, a surgeon on Cook’s ship, described a most
unusual ceremonial welcome that seems to mimic the ceremonial
throwing of spears, called kā‘ili, to welcome the high chief back to
shore during the Makahiki festival, but here the priest uses stones or
pebbles instead of spears.
[. . .] and dining at a Priest’s House whose name is
Kaimekee [Ka‘imiki‘i], I shall describe his method of
receiving and entertaining us. As we went along we
were much crouded by the Indians, who flocked about
us in great Numbers merely to satisfy their Curiosity;
approaching the Priests House we saw him come
out, who perceiving us surrounded by the Indians &
judging that they were no welcome Companions to us
immediately threw large Stones in the midst of them,
some of them lighting close to us, had we not been a
little acquainted with the Character of these people
we shou’d have concluded that he was pelting us. This
 No Nā Mamo  63

unmannerly salute put the rabble to flight and Kaimekee

waved his hands to us to invite us to his House, into
which we were introduced by himself; he desired us to
sit down while he withdrew, he returned back in a very
short time with two or three attendants, they entered
the court yard singing, the Priest himself holding in his
Hand a small pig, another man carrying some cocoa
nuts & a third a fine new matt. After repeating a few
Verses & being answered by his Attendants Kaimekee
presented the Pig & Cocoa nuts to us, which we accepted
of and made him a Present of some Toies & c in return.
(Beaglehole 1162–1163)

While ships were anchored at Kealakekua Bay on Monday,

January 25, 1779, “[i]n the afternoon, Terreeoboo [Kalani‘ōpu‘u]
arrived, and visited the ships in a private manner, attended only by one
canoe, in which were his wife and children. He staid on board till near
ten o’clock, when he returned to the village of Kowrowa [Ka‘awaloa]”
(King, J. 16). Samwell gave this description of the high chief
He seems to be above 60 years of age, is very tall &
thin, seemingly much Emaciated by Debaucheries,
tottering as he walks along, his Skin is very scurfy and
his Eyes sore with drinking Ava; he was attended by his
Queen whose name is Kanee-cappo-rei [Kaneikapolei,
ftn. 3], his two young Sons & many of his Courtiers.
(Beaglehole 1168)

But then at noon the next day, Tuesday the 26th, something
tremendous happened.
[. . . ] the king, in a large canoe, attended by two others,
set out from the village, and paddled toward the ships in
great state. Their appearance was grand and magnificent.
In the first canoe was Terreeoboo and his chiefs, dressed
in their rich feathered clokes and helmets, and armed
with long spears and daggers; in the second, came the
venerable Kaoo [Ka‘u‘u or Ka‘ō‘ō], the chief of the
priests, and his brethren, with their idols displayed
on red cloth. These idols were busts of a gigantic size,
64  Welina

made of wicker-work, and curiously covered with small

feathers of various colours, wrought in the same manner
with their cloaks. Their eyes were made of large pearl
oysters, with a black nut fixed in the centre; their mouths
were set with a double row of the fangs of dogs [. . .].
The third canoe was filled with hogs and various sorts of
vegetables. As they went along, the priests in the centre
canoe sung their hymns with great solemnity; and after
paddling round the ships, instead of going on board, as
was expected, they made toward the shore at the beach
where we were stationed. (King, J. 16–17)

On the shore Kalani‘ōpu‘u put his feather cloak over Cook and
put a feather helmet on his head. Then five or six feather cloaks were
set before him on the ground, and the four pigs, fruits, and vegetables
were brought to him. King wrote, “this part of the ceremony was
concluded by the king’s exchanging names with Captain Cook”
(King, J. 17). Was this a ceremony to exchange names, a formal and
ceremonial welcome to Cook, or both? Sahlins saw the ceremony that
preceded the exchange as a royal welcome, and he noted “it was of a
kind that would be repeated by Kamehameha for Vancouver” (How
Natives Think 69). Being that Kamehameha was with Kalani‘ōpu‘u,
and more than likely on the welcoming canoe, it would be reasonable
that he would employ a similar welcome for another British captain.
But the journal of Captain Portlock, who came to the islands seven
years after Cook, but whose ships stayed mostly off Maui, O‘ahu, and
Kaua‘i, also describes such a welcome. On Friday, December 1, 1786
Captain Portlock was visited by Kahekili at Maunalua Bay on the
island of O‘ahu, and Portlock recorded this account.
The old man [a priest] informed me, that in a short time
the king (who had just arrived in the bay with a large fleet
of canoes) would be on board to pay me a visit, and that
when he returned again on shore the taboo would be taken
off [. . .]. The priest left us about ten o’clock, and returned
again at eleven in his own canoe, accompanied by many
others both large and small. In a very large canoe, paddled
by sixteen stout men, was the king himself, attended by
many of the principal chiefs. [. . .] [A]fter paddling three
 No Nā Mamo  65

times round the ship in great state, [he] came on board

without the least appearance of fear, and would not suffer
any of his retinue to follow him till he had got permission
for their admittance, which I gave to eight or ten of the
principal chiefs. The king brought me a few hogs and
some vegetables by way of present [. . .]. (155–156)

Kahekili’s visit to Portlock’s ship echoes the events witnessed

by King in 1779. Since there was no exchange of names, and since
Kahekili went on board, we can guess that it was the “stately”
paddling of large double-hulled canoes full of chiefs around the ship
that was a ceremonial welcome. And indeed, it seems to be the pro
forma welcome Kamehameha employs when Vancouver arrives.
These “royal welcomes” bring up more questions about traditional
protocol than we can discover answers to: Why did Kalani‘ōpu‘u first
visit the ship “privately” with his family, then enact a tremendous
ceremony the next day? Why circle the ships? Why were the feather
gods, whose size was never seen again, brought out in this manner?
What was the meaning of the ritual involving gods and offerings?
We find further clues in this account of an incident that also
involved circling, and that Cook took to be religious in nature, that
occurred while Cook was on Ni‘ihau.
As soon as we got upon a rising ground, I stopped
to look round me; and observed a woman, on the
opposite side of the valley where I landed, calling to
her countrymen who attended me. Upon this, the
Chief began to mutter something which I supposed
was a prayer; and the two men, who carried the pigs,
continued to walk round me all the time, making, at
least, a dozen circuits before the other had finished
his oraison [sic]. This ceremony being performed, we
proceeded; and, presently, met people coming from all
parts, who, on being called to by my attendants, threw
themselves prostrate on their faces, till I was out of sight.
(Cook 217–218)

Another recollection of something similar to this circuit-like

action would be the movement of the akua loa and akua poko of the
66  Welina

makahiki celebrations. They move around the island in a clock-wise

and counter-clock-wise manner, respectively. Valeri gives a very
good and concise description of the movements.
On the twenty-fourth of Welehu, the akua loa and the
akua poko begin their circuit. The circuit of the first god
lasts twenty-three days, as long as the Makahiki festival
proper; that of the second god lasts four days, as long
as the so-called kapu Makahiki. The akua loa travels
clockwise, keeping the interior on its right; the akua
poko travels in the opposite direction, with the sea at
its right. When it reaches the boundary of the district it
returns. As the akua loa travels, all the land to the left
of the road (i.e., the land under cultivation) is taboo; if
someone enters it he is condemned to pay a pig but is
not put to death. (206–207)

The scholars who have poured over the historical record don’t
tell us why the gods move in a circuit, regardless of which way the
gods are going, nor do the early Native Hawaiian scholars comment
on this activity. Perhaps the circular travel might mimic the original
travels of Lonoikamakahiki, but there is nothing to back that up,
not even in the tradition of Lonoikamakahiki. So, why the circular
movement? Listening to an interview recorded by Clinton Kanahele
with a Native Hawaiian elder, Luka Kinolau, I have a much more
persuasive hypothesis.
Kanahele recorded the interview on June 29, 1970. Kinolau tells
him a remarkable story of how she lost her grandfather and hence
was hānai[ed] ‘raised’ by her grandmother, who was a traditional
practitioner of hāhā ‘diagnosis by palpation.’
My parents, I don’t know my parents because when I
was very small my Chinese sire died. My grandmother
was Manoa, and her husband was Kaiama. [. . .] My
grandfather was a fisherman, fisherman. He always
went fishing. One day he came home and he told
my grandmother, “Say, I have been bewitched.” My
grandmother asked, “Who bewitched you?” “So and
so.” He divulged her name. My grandmother then
said, “Dear, you are going to fall into trouble. You had
 No Nā Mamo  67

not better go fishing. You don’t go.” My grandmother

reiterated, “You don’t go fishing. You stay home.” Then
my grandfather said, “How are we going to live? What
shall be our means of support?” My grandmother replied,
“I have saved some money of ours. I have indeed saved.
We have enough.” My grandfather prized the night for
it was a good fishing night. So he went fishing. He went
and he never returned. The canoe floated ashore. My
grandfather had perished. My grandmother knew the
woman who had bewitched him because that woman had
circled his canoe once, once, twice, thrice, four times, five
times, and stood and then circled again, once, five times,
stopped. [. . .] [T]he canoe drifted home into our port.
My grandmother went and got the fish, and we pulled
the canoe on dry land. My grandmother began to weep.
She walked around that canoe as that other woman had
done. She circled this canoe, and she wept; she circled
again, and wept. That woman died. (Kanahele, C. 3–4)

Fortunately, the interview was done in Hawaiian, for we do

not have any Hawaiian text for the Cook, Portlock, or Vancouver
examples or even a term for what this circuit is called. Kinolau says
that her grandfather was “haihaia” and Kanahele translated this as
“bewitched”—a remarkable and significant fact. Haihaiā is not a
commonly used word today, and in the Pukui and Elbert dictionary
we find that its first usage comes from the Bible in 1 and 2 Timothy
as “the unholy” or “to increase unto more ungodliness” (47).
If one thought that the root word might be haiā, the first usage of
that word is a “retainer or follower of a chief,” and the second usage
points back to haihaiā. The second usage of haihaiā comes from
the writings of Kamakau concerning the priesthood of sorcerers or
“kahuna ‘anā‘anā,” a priest who could counter the sorcery of another
“by acting insane (eating poison, going naked), thus diverting the
god’s curses to himself [the kahuna] and freeing the victim” (Pukui
and Elbert 1986: 47).
Kamakau described a haihaiā as a method of healing to counter
an act of sorcery. The text is “‘imi ke ola ma ka haihaia” and was
translated as seeking a cure “by acting ‘insanely.’” (Ka Po‘e Kahiko
68  Welina

140). In the endnotes Lorrin Andrew’s (1865) definition of the word

is given with further explanation from Mary Kawena Pukui. Her
explanation that the counter-sorcerer not only takes on the curses
of the victim but also “does battle against the forces of destruction”
(Kamakau, Ka Po‘e Kahiko 141) became part of the definition in the
1986 Pukui and Elbert Hawaiian Dictionary for haihaiā.
However, if we look closer at Kamakau’s description we find that
the kahuna can also “go naked in a circuit around the house, and on
out onto the highway [. . .] (Kamakau, Ka Po‘e Kahiko 140). The term
Kamakau uses is ka‘apuni, or “circuit,” (“Ka Moolelo Hawaii” 15
Sept., 1870: 1). So the element of a circling movement is part of the
meaning of haihaiā.
Were the Hawaiians using some form of counter-sorcery upon
these foreigners or aliens in their midst? If we knew what the priest
or chiefs were chanting, we might be able to better understand the
nature of this ceremony, but we don’t know. In fact, the actions that
follow do not concur with what Kamakau has described as the rites of
haihaiā. Instead I would argue that we need to go back to Andrews’
first usage of the word, which was also cited in the footnotes to
Kamakau’s description. Andrew says that it means to “court the favor
of the gods” (Andrews 122, Kamakau, Ka Po‘e Kahiko 141. ftn. 12).
I have not seen any records later than Vancouver’s visit of an
event like those welcomes. When the Russian explorer Otto von
Kotzebue arrived at Kailua Kona during Kamehameha’s latter years,
he is not greeted with the same accord; in fact Kamehameha was
wary of the Russians’ intentions and their arrival. Perhaps if we had
known about this before we might be doing ceremonial welcomes
today a bit differently. But times were changing and when another
Russian, Golovnin, arrived in the islands, he saw that Hawaiians were
already integrating new customs with the traditional ones.
Encountering Europeans, they bow and shake hands
according to our customs, but among themselves they
observe their own custom of rubbing noses and holding
hands. (Golovnin 210)

Looking at the context of each of the greetings upon the water

by the paramount chiefs and priests, we can see they involved several
 No Nā Mamo  69

common elements: a large fleet of canoes; a main double hulled

canoe transporting the paramount chief; chanting either by priests or
chief; other canoes following with gifts, particularly food; the giving
of gifts, including extremely esteemed goods made with feathers; and
even the exchange of names. All these point to the circuit or circuits
used in the beginning of the ceremony as being propitious.
Despite the differences that leave us with more questions than
answers, these accounts of the rituals of welcome emphasize certain
common elements:

the need to acknowledge another person’s presence by the

offering of greetings,
the importance of demonstrating signs of recognition by
remembering a person’s name or by physical contact such as
the honi ihu (touching of noses), and
the need to display hospitality through the offering of food,
drink, and rest.

The essence of these greetings and offers of hospitality are

[. . .] a value held in common and shared by Hawaiians,

but perhaps not practiced by all. At first it might seem
unusual or strange that these admonitions, in proverb
and story, would be so necessary to re-enforce in such a
society. However, if Hawaiians place such a high value
on hospitality, then non-conformity by a few might
seriously damage or destroy those values. After all, the
act of hospitality is indeed a serious act in which one’s
resources are shared and one’s privacy opened to public
scrutiny. (Office of Hawaiian Affairs 16)

Contemporary Protocol
The process of rituals in welcoming guests is what we have come
to regard as protocol. Today this practice is synonymous with the
Native Hawaiian people and these islands, an image that is possibly
heightened by the tourist industry and the promotion of the “aloha
spirit.” Ironically, this welcoming of guests is perhaps the most
prominent legacy of the ancient practices of hospitality.
70  Welina

Native American author Vine Deloria Jr., in his critical analysis

of the impact of Western culture and Christianity on native culture,
traditions, and religion, described why hospitality is so important to
native peoples.
It is with respect to the attitude displayed toward strangers
that a community’s psychic identity can be determined.
A community that is uncertain about itself must destroy
in self-defense to prevent any conceivable threat to its
existence, whereas a community that has a stable identity
accords to other communities the dignity of distinct
existence, which it wishes to receive itself. (God is Red 217)

Deloria suggested that greetings and hospitality are not only for
individuals and families but also indicative of a community’s or a
people’s view of the world and of others. In essence, the manner in
which we welcome others, particularly strangers, defines who we
are, how we see ourselves, and how much confidence we have in our
beliefs. Some societies remain hesitant and suspicious of any outside
influences and change.
A society or community that is open and welcoming to strangers
is so because its members are strong and steadfast in their self-
identification. Thus, outside influences and behaviors can be adapted
or easily dismissed without much harm to their way of life. Such a
society can be generous because it is “rewarded” by the acceptance
and recognition of its culture (identity) by the visitor (guests) as the
way things are done in that place.

A Recent Hawaiian Welcome Ceremony

Deloria’s views were put to the test in July 1985 when an event
compelled a very serious review of traditional Hawaiian hospitality
and welcoming ceremonies. A delegation of Māori people was
scheduled to visit Hawai‘i on their way back to Aotearoa ‘New
Zealand’ after opening an exhibition of Māori treasures and art in
San Francisco. The group included fifty elders and leaders and a
cultural performing group. Their arrival in Hawai‘i was to coincide
with the opening of an exhibition honoring a former Bishop Museum
director and Māori, Te Rangi Hiroa (Sir Peter Buck).
 No Nā Mamo  71

At the invitation of the Bishop Museum’s director, the Culture

Division of the Office of Hawaiian Affairs arranged the welcome
ceremony. As the officer for the Culture Division, I collaborated with
the museum staff to organize a welcome committee. Members of
the committee were selected for their skills in culture, language, and
the performing arts, and the committee included people skilled in
chanting, which today has survived only in the form of the hula.
We all had a vision for the welcome, but we wanted to be sure
that our plans would be true to traditions and not merely reflective
of our own assumptions and prejudices. The next six months were
used to conduct research to rediscover traditional rituals of welcome.
Several of us on the committee, having lived in Aotearoa and stayed
on marae, were experienced with the Māori kawa, or ceremonial
welcomes. We wanted to have a ceremony that would emphasize
specifically Hawaiian cultural practices, yet contain elements
that would be familiar to the Māori so they would also be able to
contribute to the occasion.
What was proposed was to consider the museum by its Hawaiian
name as the house of Princess Bernice Pauahi. The garden entrance
to the museum would be our courtyard, or “malae,” where the rituals
of encounter would be held. These rituals would include greetings,
chants, the genealogy of the Kamehameha dynasty for Princess
Pauahi, and words of welcome. A kapu sign of the crossed pūlo‘ulo‘u
or “tabu stick” would be set before the entrance doors of the museum
building to prohibit any entry until the greetings were completed.
Only then would the Māori and Hawaiian elders enter to bless the
exhibit. When this was over, everyone gathered would be invited into
the “house” and the museum’s Great Hall to join in speeches and
songs in both Māori and Hawaiian.
The welcome was recounted from the Māori perspective by Dr.
Hirini (Sidney) Moko Mead in the publication describing the Te
Māori exhibition’s journey throughout the United States.
We learnt that the Hawaiians had set up a protocol
committee to discuss in fine detail the kawa [ceremonial
protocol] for the opening of CELEBRATING THE
MAORI on 18 July and to work out what they would do
for the event. [. . .]
72  Welina

During the meeting, the function of kawa was of course

paramount in our minds. Kawa allows certain activities
of high symbolic value to occur in an orderly way, so
our task was to work out procedures that would be
understood and accepted by the participants. [. . .] Some
understanding was absolutely essential if the opening
ceremony was to be a success. So the two sides talked
about the procedures and very soon reached some
understanding. [. . .]

The ceremony was to begin at 4:00 p.m., and we arrived

in two buses. We were led on to the grounds of the
museum and towards the entrance [. . .]. [N]o words
can really convey the great feelings of expectation,
excitement and sheer delight in the coming together of
Hawaiian and Maori in a series of rituals.

The Hawaiian welcome ceremony called heahea began

with a chant of greeting [. . .]. It was actually difficult
for the Maori group to sit still and not respond with
either karanga [responding chants] or speeches. Our
responses were to come after the opening rituals for the
exhibitions.

Several times our warriors pranced towards the door

[to the museum], and several times we had to call them
 No Nā Mamo  73

back because the rahui [prohibition posts] was still in

place. [. . .] In point of fact, we were feeling our way and
sometimes getting ahead of the set procedures. But at no
time did we actually break the flow of the rituals. [. . .]

The newspapers described the event in a number of

ways. [. . .] The Honolulu ADVERTISER (19 July 1985)
said, ‘Hawaiians and New Zealand Maori, among the
closest of cousins, joined together yesterday and became
one people. Their unique exchange of greetings opened
the Bishop Museum’s “Celebrating the Maori” exhibit in
a spectacular fashion.’ (Mead 91–96)

Ho‘okipa, the Expression of Hospitality

The experience of researching, planning, and executing the
events of that day lead to the first in what was hoped to be a series on
Hawaiian cultural traditions and practices by the Office of Hawaiian
Affairs. The office published a booklet called Ho‘okipa, Hawaiian
Hospitality as a means of sharing the information that was compiled
and used.
In the introduction of the booklet, the late Moses Keale, Sr., then
chairman of the Office of Hawaiian Affairs, described the feeling of
that time.
74  Welina

At the Museum, for the first time in generations,

perhaps even since we had left Kahiki, the homeland,
such a large number of Hawaiians and Maoris met as
hanauna, as relatives. The warmth, the aloha of the
occasion was profound and it brings back so many
good memories about the Maori people.

What we learned from these occasions was a need

to express what exactly is ho‘okipa [. . .]. (Office of
Hawaiian Affairs 3)

Like many other cultural practices, there is no exact term for

welcomes, especially ceremonial ones. The closest Hawaiian term
may be ho‘okipa, or hospitality. There are certain key elements
to ho‘okipa. The foremost is the greetings. Informally, it is to call
out to the other person, or to “kāhea.” In more formal settings, we
rediscovered the term heahea. This call might be a simple greeting
of aloha, or it might be a more traditional and lesser-used greeting
known as welina. The call may be extended into a chant based on the
closeness of the relationships or on the status and rank of the people
involved.

Chants
Mary Kawena Pukui recorded one such chant from her home
district of Ka‘ū, on the island of Hawai‘i:
He mai!
He mai e ku‘u pua lehua o ka wao,
I pohai ‘ia e na manu o uka,
Ku‘u lehua i mohala i ka ua o Ha‘ao,
Ua ao ka hale nei, ua hiki mai la ‘oe.
Mai! mai! Eia no makou nei.
(Handy and Pukui 172)
Welcome!
Welcome, my lehua flower of the forest
Surrounded by the birds of the uplands
My lehua that bloomed in the rain of Ha‘ao
Light comes to our house, for you are here.
Welcome! Welcome! Here we are.
(Author’s translation)
 No Nā Mamo  75

In the hula, similar chants are used. Those chants mostly come
from the traditions of Pele and Hi‘iaka, telling of the younger sister
Hi‘iaka’s ventures across the islands stopping to find rest and food.
Many times she was not greeted with open hospitality. For instance,
on the island of Kaua‘i she chanted
Kunihi ka mauna i ka la‘i e,
O Wai-ale-ale la i Wai-lua,
Huki a‘e la i ka lani
Ka papa au-wai o ka Wai-kini;
Alai ia a‘e la e Nou-nou,
Nalo ka Ipu-ha‘a,
Ka laula mauka o Kapa‘a, e!
Mai pa‘a i ka leo!
He ole ka hea mai, e!
(Emerson 40)

Steep is the mountain in the calm,

Wai‘ale‘ale at Wailua,
Twisted towards the heavens
The water courses of Waikini;
Blocked by Nounou,
Ipuha‘a disappears,
The upland broadness of Kapa‘a!
Don’t be silent!
And not call!
(Author’s translation)

In planning the first welcome for the Māori at the museum, we

recognized the importance of chanting and the familiarity kumu hula
‘hula instructors’ and chanters would have with these chants. We
followed the words of Mary Kawena Pukui who noted that, “With
favourite children and with chiefs, the heahea was followed by the
name-chant (mele inoa) of that individual or of his family” (Handy
and Pukui 172). We also utilized the concept that we were at the
“House of Pauahi” by using a name chant for Pauahi and reciting the
genealogy of the Kamehamehas.
There is one major difference between welcomes and the hula
in the use of these chants. In the hālau hula ‘hula school,’ or at the
kahua hula ‘dance stage,’ these songs of welcome and calling are
used as passwords for someone to enter. Some have carried this idea,
76  Welina

as well as the Māori kawa or “protocol,” over into contemporary

welcomes so that visitors must call for permission to enter. Some
even recite their genealogies during a welcome, a practice that
was used on the island of O‘ahu at genealogical houses or schools
called Hale Nauā. Again, the reciting of the genealogy was to ask for
permission to enter.
The purpose of this hale (nauā) was to ask and discuss (‘ike
pono) the relationship of anyone to the ali‘i nui. This is
what was done at this hale. When it came time to enter into
this hale, the ali‘i sat inside. Two persons sat outside of the
pā lā‘au [wooden fence]. There were many people inside
with the ali‘i nui [in the hale] and those persons skilled in
genealogies were also inside with the ali‘i nui.

When a person came to enter into the ali‘i(’s) hale, the

people outside called out, Here is so and so, who enters.
Then those inside would call out, Who are you, so and so,
nauā. Who is your parent, nauā. Who is your parent, nauā.
This person would reply, So and so is my parent. (Malo 262)

Handy and Pukui noted that “there was no set chant of welcome;
each person made up his own for the occasion. [. . .] The purpose of
the heahea was to make a person feel welcome. When the heahea was
lacking, a guest felt unwanted and ashamed to come” (172).
Handy and Pukui also distinguished another form of heahea, “a loud
wail of welcome (uwe),” used for more intimate friends and relatives.
The words of the uwe were spontaneous and not
memorized, and they expressed the affection of the host
for the returned traveller. Loved ones, home, the hills
and the sea, places where they had been together, loved
ones who had passed on during his absence might be
mentioned. One person might do the wailing while
others sat about and wept silently, or one adult followed
another in uttering the uwe. (173)

Ho‘okipa, as we have seen many times in the traditional

accounts, is not about asking or gaining permission. Welcoming a
person or persons is not about defending one’s position or place,
 No Nā Mamo  77

but about extending hospitality. Therefore it should not be about

permission. Instead, it is calling for recognition, pili aloha, or love.
There were certain physical ways to express that aloha. Some
of these were defined by Kamakau: “The old Hawaiian ways of
salutation were touching noses, bowing the head, greeting with
the mouth, weeping, rolling on the ground, or kneeling as a sign of
submission. These were forms taught by early Hawaiian parents”
(Ruling Chiefs 249).
John Papa ‘Ī‘ī wrote one of the most poignant examples of this
expression when he, as a young boy, had to leave his parents to begin
his new life in the king’s court.
His mother said, “Do not think of us. The chief alone
must be your father and your mother. From him
shall come your vegetable food, your meat, your tapa
coverings, and malos.”
The boy asked, “May I not come and see you sometimes
when you are as near as you are now?”
“It will be all right to do so at the proper time,” she
replied, “but it would be much better for you to remain
with the chief with no thought of us, whether we are as
near as we are now or far away.”
While they talked, the sun passed to the opposite side of
Mount Kaala, and his mother said, “Night has come for you.”
“Homai ka ihu (embrace me; literally, give the nose),”
replied the boy. (56)

Honi Ihu
Today most people have adopted Western expressions such as
kissing, handshakes, and hugging. Having had my nose touched,
rubbed, and sometimes crushed while living among the Māori, I find
it an amusing sight to watch adult Hawaiian men greet each other
with true affection. Most of the time they do not know exactly how
this should be expressed, as handshaking is too formal, and kissing,
for the most part, is too personal. Many resort to a good bear hug.
The honi ihu, or the touching of the nose, is an expression that
exchanges the breath of the two, sharing the scent of familiarity, and
78  Welina

conveys the closeness of that relationship. It is physical contact,

but it does not have the same intimate connotation as “kissing”
does in the contemporary mind.
A wonderful example of how
such an expression can define this
relationship is to be found in the
journal of Captain James King of
the Discovery, who accompanied
Captain Cook on his third voyage
in the Pacific. On Saturday,
February 13, 1779, Palea, a favorite
of Kalani‘ōpu‘u who was trying
to help the British explorers, was
mistakenly assaulted by some crew
members who thought he was
Moses K. Keale Sr., then chair of the Office
of Hawaiian Affairs, welcomed a Māori elder responsible for some stolen items.
at the grounds of Kawaiaha‘o Plaza with a Although Palea had been knocked
honi ihu. down, he was able to get up in
time to stop a counter attack by Hawaiians against the crew. After
helping to restore some order,
he followed them [the crew] in his canoe, with a
midshipman’s cap, and some other trifling articles of
the plunder, and, with much apparent concern at what
happened, asked, if the Orono would kill him, and
whether he would permit him to come on board the next
day? On being assured, that he should be well received,
he joined noses (as their custom is) with the officers, in
token of friendship, and paddled over to the village of
Kowrowa [Ka‘awaloa] (40).

Both a sign of departure and of friendship, the honi ihu, as this

early account demonstrates, is without doubt part and parcel of our
culture and who we are.

Lei
The giving of floral lei was a traditional practice, but we find few
references to lei in greetings or ceremonial welcomes. (One exception
 No Nā Mamo  79

is the account by the Rev. William Ellis of Maua‘e’s return to his

home village.) The many different methods of haku lei ‘lei making,’
particularly for the chiefs, would indicate that lei were not tied until
presented to the intended wearer. This manner of presentation
respected the concept that a person’s head and back were sacred and
precluded the casting of the lei over the head as is usually done today.
Pukui added, “One must never ask for a lei which another person was
wearing. It was proper, however, if one were wearing a lei, to take it
off one’s self to garland a near relative or someone held in esteem”
(Handy and Pukui 182).

Preparation of Food
The preparation and distribution of food are critical when
hospitality is requested. Again, we have seen in traditional accounts the
importance of nourishment for a stranger or visitor who had traveled
great distances. My aunties who lived in Kaka‘ako remembered when
Mary Kawena Pukui would visit them, stand at the wooden fence,
and call out to them from the gate to let them know she had arrived.
Someone would rush to the kitchen to prepare some food and drink,
for they did not know if she had come from nearby Mānoa or as far
away as her birth place in Ka‘ū on the island of Hawai‘i. Pukui stated
that in Ka‘ū, “[a]s soon as he [the visitor] was seated, he was asked to
have something to eat (E ‘ai). If the stranger was hungry, he accepted,
but if he was not, he declined” (Handy and Pukui 172). And as Ellis
had suggested before, the custom is also to have food ready for the
visitors to take home or for their journey after their stay has ended.
“Entertainment,” as Ellis called it, is more important than speeches and
protocol for relatives and friends or those who traveled far.

Role of Children
The role of children in traditional society was well understood.
Handy and Pukui noted, “Children did not run around and make
noise during the uwe [greetings of cries and wailing] but sat quietly
near a parent or grandparent. Older ones, able to help with the
preparation of food, hurried off to prepare and serve the guest as
soon as the uwe was over. The younger ones waited to be called
forward to meet the guest” (173).
80  Welina

Yet, children could have a participatory role in the welcome of

dignitaries and very special persons. One such role children played
is described in the account of the visitation of Queen Lili‘uokalani
to the island of Kaua‘i shortly after her coronation in 1891. A special
song, entitled E o e Lili‘u, a mele inoa, was composed in her honor
by Miss Pelelia Castro. It was sung by five girls when Her Majesty
visited the community of Anahola. It was said that “the Queen was
so pleased and touched that she burst into tears. The children were
summoned several times to different places that the Queen was
visiting to sing the song again” (Chun, He Buke Mele Introduction).

Ho‘okupu
Today, particularly with the visitation of dignitaries, a
ho‘okupu ‘tribute’ is presented. Recent and continuing research is
rediscovering accounts of such tributes. Traditionally, ho‘okupu
were obligatory tributes given to high chiefs. The descriptions of
ho‘okipa do not indicate that ho‘okupu was given at the time of the
greetings. Part of the reason for this may be that a ho‘okupu appears
to have been a massive undertaking, requiring the gathering of the
people, the collection of the “gifts,” or sometimes even the taxes to be
given to the high chief. A missionary’s eyewitness account of such a
presentation recorded the following:
Monday, 30. Reached the beach, this evening just in time
to witness a novel and interesting sight—the presentation
to the king of a tax levied on a district on the windward
side of the island. It consisted of a procession of not less
than 150 persons led by the headman, or overseer of the
district. They were all neatly dressed in new tapa, and
walked in a single file, the first 20 men bearing each a
baked pig, or dog, neatly and ingeniously wrapped in and
ornamented with green leaves. These were followed by
fifty others, bearing 30 immense calabashes of poi, 20 of
which were suspended each on a long pole, and carried
by two men, and 10 others on the shoulders of the same
number of men. Then came females to the number of
70, or 80, each bearing on her shoulder a large package
of tapa, or native cloth. The whole was deposited in
 No Nā Mamo  81

front of the royal tent, and the company, with hundreds

who followed them, seated themselves in a circle, at a
respectful distance, apparently with the expectation, that
the king would present himself.

In the course of half an hour he left his tent, and paced

the large mat in front of it for 15 or 20 minutes. He
appeared with dignity, and we could not but remark
the similarity of his air and whole appearance to that of
persons of high rank in our own country [. . .]. (“Journal
of Messrs. Richards and Stewart at Lahinah” 19 March
1825: 658)

Kamakau recorded this account of a ho‘okupu given in honor of

Kamehameha by Kahekili Ke‘eaumoku in 1808 at Awāwamalu Bay
on the island of O‘ahu.
He announced that he was giving a tribute to
Kamehameha, and so all of the people of his lands on
Oahu and Maui prepared the tribute.

The treasures given were food, pigs, dogs, kapa, skirts,

loin cloths, nets, olona fiber, feather capes, helmets, O-o
and mamo feathers and pearls. [. . .]

Putting together all the people from the many districts

that came, there must have been four thousand people
gathered.

No treasures or riches of the chief were spared for this

tribute. The chief ’s people said, “The poor will survive.” [. . .]

This tribute did not become a burden to the people. It

was not considered a burden because of the generosity of
the chief. (Kamakau, I Ka Wa 41–43)

Customary items today are based upon the ideal of these

traditional items. These modern-day counterparts may include items
such as food wrapped in kī-leaf bundles called pū‘olo. Lei, especially
uncommon ones, are many times given to honored visitors. Other
modern day gifts such as books and “traditional” handicrafts
82  Welina

are considered appropriate to be presented as ho‘okupu. Some

“transitional” gift items presented today are Hawaiian quilts, which
have replaced traditional kapa ‘bark cloth,’ and canoe paddles and
bowls made from native hard woods.

Former State Senator Kenneth Brown, a descendant of John Papa ‘Ī‘ī, presents a canoe paddle to
Sir Howard Morrison at the opening of a Māori-Hawaiian Trade Show at the Sheraton Waikīkī
Hotel.

Speeches and Welcome

Influences of the Māori kawa and the hālau hula are noticeable in
contemporary welcome ceremonies. The elements of speech making
followed by chants or songs are traditional components of the kawa.
A speech given without a chant or song ‘waiata’ is considered dry or
without the relish, added either to give the words more emphasis or
to ease the serious nature of the speech.
The long process of welcoming in both speeches and chants,
particularly when chants are used as passwords for permission,
is derived from the experiences of the kawa and the hālau. The
traditional accounts do not support the long wait for a visitor to be
greeted and to receive food and drink.
The welcoming of strangers and relations is an extremely
important function and practice in Hawaiian society because it
reinforces the concept of relationships as articulated in the word
aloha. It has developed into a means of Hawaiian self-identification
and expression and is further nurtured today by the commercial
tourist industry.
 No Nā Mamo  83

This was a dramatic point observed by James Kekela, the

Hawaiian missionary to the Marquesas Islands, who compared the
hospitality of the Tahitians and Samoans. “Then again, the people
take no interest in welcoming strangers, but the Hawaiians living
here saw us at once and came to welcome us with demonstrations
of affection, and have helped us in every way, giving us food of all
kinds and bringing us pigs and fowl as we do to strangers in Hawaii”
(Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 244).
When the relationship has been established through verbal
acknowledgment, it is then immediately followed by expressions of
hospitality through physical contact and the offering of food and
drink. How simple or elaborate those expressions are depends upon
their appropriateness to the persons being greeted. Beyond these key
elements of ho‘okipa, the most essential ingredient is to create a true
sense of aloha and ensure that such aloha is conveyed.
84  A‘o

4 A‘o
Educational Traditions
There was mana in the old days, and those people who were
correctly taught had real mana; eyewitnesses could not say
that their mana was false (wahahe‘e).
Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs of Hawaii

Nānā ka maka; ho‘olohe ka pepeiao, pa‘a ka waha.

Observe with the eyes; listen with the ears, shut the mouth
[Thus one learns].
Pukui, ‘Ōlelo No‘eau

Ha‘alo‘u knew no man who understands deep things should go

unrecompensed, for knowledge is not to be scattered about freely and
“the laborer is worthy of his hire.”
Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs of Hawaii

A‘o is the word for education, but it means much more.

It implies both to learn (a‘o mai) and to teach (a‘o aku). This
sense of receiving and giving supports the idea that relationships
and belonging are primary actions in traditional Hawaiian
society and culture. It is the idea that as one learns and becomes
skilled (mastery), knowledge and skill are to be used and shared
with others (generosity). This builds relationships of mutual
dependence and support, bringing families and community
together. And yet, having knowledge and skills gives one a sense
of independence and identity within the family and community.
This concept is expressed in a Māori proverb, first introduced to
me by the Chief Judge of the Waitangi Tribunal, the Honorable
Eddie Durie: Hō atu taonga, hoki mai taonga, a gift given is a gift
returned. This symbolizes that the building of a relationship that
becomes mutual and long-lasting is as important as the gift itself.
What traditions we have about ancient education come from
the “literature” [both oral and written] of the chiefs and priests
and describe how they were trained for their roles. We know about
everyday labor, like farming and fishing, and the techniques that were
used, but we have no detailed accounts of how people were taught
those skills, perhaps because they were indeed everyday and ordinary.
 No Nā Mamo  85

Native historian John Papa ‘Ī‘ī described his own education. It

was supported by his parents and intended to prepare him to become
a skilled and well-trained servant of the king.
From the time he was little, Ii was taught by his father,
Kuaena, the rules of good behavior, in preparation for
his position in the royal court, where he was destined
to go at the age of ten. They brought him up carefully,
instructing him in all things, and saw to it that he was
quick and capable, [. . .] (Ii 22)

This does not mean that our view of traditional learning and
teaching is elitist; on the contrary, we shall see that there are certain
common patterns of education throughout traditional society and
culture.

Traditional Patterns of Education

Traditional patterns of education were first articulated by Mary
Kawena Pukui in her work on the Queen Lili‘uokalani Children’s
Center’s culture project. In Nānā I Ke Kumu she revealed that there
are five responses that students have to learning and teaching.
The elders well knew that: “I ka nānā no a ‘ike, by
observing, one learns. I ka ho‘olohe no a ho‘omaopopo,
by listening, one commits to memory. I ka hana no a
‘ike, by practice one masters the skill.”

To this a final directive was added: Never interrupt.

Wait until the lesson is over and the elder gives you
permission. Then—and not until then—nīnau. Ask
questions. (Pukui, Haertig, and Lee 48)

1. Observation, or “nānā” or “‘ike,” is crucial in island life. The

ability to look at the sea and to see where the schools of fish were
located, or if there were any at all, led to great skill in fishing.
Such skill was developed over time while gazing at the currents
and waves, and from the observations of teachers or mentors.
Today’s television cooking programs demonstrate this technique
of learning by taking the viewer through the various stages of
preparation to the end result.
86  A‘o

In the tradition of the chief ‘Umi it was remembered that a

fisherman-warrior on the opposing side knew of an impending attack
because of what he had just observed.
[. . .] a o kekahi kanaka lawaia nui no Puueo, aia no oia
i ka lawaia kolo huki heenehu i kai; ike oia i ka lepo o
ka wai i ka moana; ua puiwa kona manao, a manao iho
la, he kaua aia ma ka mauna, a oia ke kumu i lepo ai ka
wai; [. . .]

There was a great fisherman from Puueo engaged with

a large net at the heenehu fishing grounds, who
noticed the dirty water of the sea and was surprised
at the fact. He thought that there was war in the
mountains which was the cause of the dirt in the
stream. (Fornander IV: 224–225)

It was his ability to deduce, by putting together the facts that the
fresh water coming from the mountains was muddy although it was
not raining up there, that the streams were probably being crossed by
many feet, hence a war party was on its way.
Handy and Pukui describe a similar deductive skill in Ka‘ū on
the island of Hawai‘i.
[. . .] these men, who sharply watched every sign of
ocean and air, the fact that here the flow (au moana) of
ocean around the island came together from east and west
alongshore, pushed by whatsoever wind—trade winds
(ko‘olau), southerlies (kona), north-westerlies (kiu). And
they knew that here ran the big fish they treasured most
for subsistence—‘ahi (tuna), aku (bonito), a‘u (swordfish),
ulua (Caranx) and mahimahi (dolphin fish), and the
smaller but much relished ‘opelu (mackerel). (223)

2. Listening, or “ho‘olohe,” is another important aspect of

learning. As with observation, listening requires one to be
attentive and patient. Such skills would be fully utilized in
traditional “schools,” particularly those of the kāhuna where
students had to memorize prayers and chants, without the aid of
writing or printed materials. Laura Judd, wife of the missionary
 No Nā Mamo  87

doctor Geritt P. Judd, came to this conclusion when she entered

into her journal for April 28, 1828 that, “[t]he aged are fond of
committing to memory, and repeating in concert. [. . .] Their
power of memory is wonderful, acquired, as I suppose, by the
habit of committing and reciting traditions, and the genealogies
of their kings and priests” (Judd 17).

3. Reflection, or to consider what has been done, is a polite way to

translate the term pa‘a ka waha, literally to “shut one’s mouth.”
Instead of jumping to conclusions, it is better for one to reflect
on all the options, putting the experiences of observing and
listening together.

4. Actually doing the task, or hana ka lima, literally “the hands

create or do,” was the next step. Having seen the stages necessary
to create something, having heard the instructions and reflected
on them, the time came to actually do it by one’s self. Mistakes
could be experienced and corrected as part of the learning
process without harm. Kamakau, in his detailed analysis of the
training of students for the priesthood gives this description.
[. . .] until the pupil knew as much as his teacher, then
the teacher would say to the pupil, “Concentrate your
prayers (E kia ko pule) on that solid cliff and make it
slide,” and the pupil would concentrate on the cliff until
it crumbled. (Ka Po‘e Kahiko 121)

5. Questioning, or “nīnau,” encouraged from the start in many

cultures, is thought of as something a person would consider
almost as the last expression of learning. Having experienced
seeing, listening, reflecting, and doing, a student may have
answered many of the trivial questions, leaving only the most
important to be asked of one’s teacher or mentor.

These are in a deliberate order and form an approach that is

different from the methods of inquiry we find in education today.
Looking at all of the five parts together, we see how this process
can work: Through discerning and careful observation ‘nānā,
ho‘olohe, and pa‘a ka waha’ a child learns under the tutelage of a
88  A‘o

master, a concept similar to mentorship. This system allows for

the careful transmission of knowledge and skills from generation
to generation as well as for the development of an interpersonal
relationship wherein a child may experience the care and guidance of
a mature adult.
In the next phase, experiential participation allows the child
to demonstrate the abilities he or she has developed through
observation. The child can be tested to see if he or she has learned
well, or has even improved upon the tradition. Mistakes made during
this period can be corrected either by the student or by the master,
and the child is given opportunities to practice his or her acquired
skills while still under careful guidance.
Then and only then are questions allowed, for by this time the
child will have focused on the most important points that he or she
may not understand. This is an economical usage of the master’s time
and helps the child develop self-teaching abilities. The end results are
the mastery of skills and the gaining of knowledge; the expression of
independent learning under careful guidance; the creation of a sense
of belonging as the transmission of skills and knowledge from one
generation to the next is done through an interpersonal relationship;
and the fostering of a desire for generosity in sharing one’s skills and
knowledge with those willing to learn. In addition to teaching a child
specific skills, this system teaches a process that serves the child well
through the transition from adolescence to adulthood.

Professional Training of Young Experts

The training of young persons to become experts, or “kāhuna,”
was different, perhaps because these skills dealt with the precise
memorization of long prayers and chants and had to do with religion.
We are sure of this because Kamakau provides great detail on how
students were educated to become expert healers, particularly in
diagnosing and treating an illness by palpation ‘hāhā.’ In this case the
founder of the practice had followers (students), and they established
a center and herbal farm in Kukuihā‘ele on the island of Hawai‘i.
There were kapus connected with learning the art of
healing by the haha method. An apprentice must first
release (huikala) any kapus that he was under pertaining
 No Nā Mamo  89

A circle of students and their teacher are shown gathered in front of what might be a hale moku
in an engraving based on a painting by Dr. William Ellis.

to his own ‘aumakua before entering the Lonopuha

profession (‘oihana Lonopuha). The training was given
under kapu, and sometimes in a special house, such
as an ulu hale, a moku hale, or a hale lau. The pupils
were taught the laws and rules of the practice until they
obtained knowledge and skill, and if they had listened to
and observed these laws [. . .]

In learning the medical arts, including that of Lonopuha,

the first thing was to learn the prayers. These were
the foundation and the guide to knowledge and skill
whereby a man learned to heal and to recognize the
mysterious things inside a sick man. The god was the
guide to all things, the giver of boundless life; therefore
every person who was learning the arts depended upon
the god. [. . .]
In some countries of the world, medical practitioners
are not like the Hawaiian ones. [. . .] Some are medical
90  A‘o

experts, not through the mana of God, but through

their being guided by visual proof (ma ko lakou alaka‘i
‘ikemaka) in their search for knowledge. In the Hawaiian
school of medical kahunas, the god was the foundation,
and secondly came prayers. Third came schooling in the
kinds of diseases; fourth, in the kinds of remedies; fifth,
in the art of killing; and sixth, in the art of saving.
The foundation of knowledge and skill of the kahuna
lapa‘au was the god. It was he who knew without error
the treatment; it was he who pointed out the nature of
the ailment and the things that pertained to this or that
disease of man.
Second came prayer. [. . .]
After the prayer of thanksgiving (pule ho‘omaika‘i) for
the mana of the god came the prayer of rememberance
(pule ho‘omana‘o) for those who had belonged to the
order of the medical kahunas of Lonopuha and for the
long-time kahunas [. . .]. (Kamakau, Ka Po‘e Kahiko
106–107)

Kamakau also tells of the ratio of teacher to pupil at these

professional schools. “Each teacher had from three to five pupils. The
teacher, too, lived under kapu” (Ka Po‘e Kahiko 121).

Educational Tools
When a learning system is not based upon literacy, other learning
senses such as memorization, careful observation, and practice must
be enhanced. Those skills were perfected in the “classroom.”
[. . .] a moku hale, a house set apart for this training, was
built, and there his course of instruction began. [. . .] All
he did was to learn the prayers, and to pray continuously
(kuili) night and day until the prayers were so
memorized that they would slip from his mouth as easily
as an olioli or mele, without hesitating or stammering.
(Kamakau, Ka Po‘e Kahiko 120–121)

To help students refine their skills, some educational tools were

used to give a “graphic illustration” of the idea. During the process
 No Nā Mamo  91

The use of pebbles for the training of the kahuna hāhā

of learning to heal by hāhā ‘palpation or feeling,’ students were

introduced to a large diagram of the human body laid out in pebbles.
Third came [the diagnosing of diseases by means of]
the papa ‘ili‘ili, the “table of pebbles.” This was an
arrangement of pebbles in the form of a man, from head
to foot, until there was an outline of an entire man. The
study of the pebbles began at the feet. [. . .]
92  A‘o

While the teacher taught, the pupils sat alert and

remembered carefully every thing that was taught them. [. . .]

By the time the instructon with the ‘ili‘ili, the pebbles,

was finished, the pupils knew thoroughly the symptoms
and the “rules” (na kulana ma‘i a me na loina) for
treatment of the diseases [. . .]. (Kamakau, Ka Po‘e
Kahiko 108)

The use of such a “table of pebbles” was evidently not the

exclusive tool of the kāhuna hāhā. We find it mentioned in, of all
places, a book on the use of medicinal herbs, that such a table of
pebbles was used for teaching astronomy and that the foundation of
the “table” was a mat made from the makaloa sedge ‘reeds.’
The instruction of astronomy and Hāhā healing were
done on Makaloa mats that had been woven [for that
purpose]. These arts of old Hawai‘i were good things and
[people] were taught by arranging small ‘Alā pebbles
given individual names, on some 365 meshes of the mat.

This was also the same way for the practice of the hāhā
priests to use the same number of pebbles to show the
Hāhā chart (papa Hāhā) as were used in the Lani-honua
chart (astronomy). (Chun, Native Hawaiian Medicine 213)

We also know that in astronomy an ‘umeke or “calabash” was

carefully prepared by a teacher to be used for teaching the positions
of the stars.
Take the lower part of a gourd or hula drum (hokeo),
rounded as a wheel, on which several lines are to be
marked (burned in), as described hereafter. [. . .] The
teacher will mark the positions of all these stars on the
gourd. [. . .]

During the nights from Kaloa to Mauli (the dark nights of

the moon), are the best times for observation. Spread out
a mat, lie down with your face upward, and contemplate
the dark-bright sections of Kane and Kanaloa, and the
navigating stars contained within them. [. . .]
 No Nā Mamo  93

You will also study the regulations of the ocean, the

movements of the tides, floods, ebbs and eddies, the art
of righting upset canoes, “Ke kamaihulipu,” and learn
to swim from one island to another. All this knowledge
contemplate frequently, and remember it by heart, so
that it may be useful to you on the rough, the dark and
unfriendly ocean. (qtd. in Johnson and Mahelona 72–73)

Experimentation
We know today that a powerful event can be caused when
creativity, innovation, risk, an element of challenge, and courage—
the elements of experimentation—go beyond the boundaries of the
accepted norms and come together to forge something new and
possibly revolutionary. Scientific and technological advances are most
often the results of such events, and we now fully recognize that this
process occurred in Hawai‘i before the arrival of Captain James Cook
in 1778.
Palaha was the first teacher to have thought of the
benefits of the enema. This is how Palaha reasoned:
When the water of a stream is stagnant, it is filthy; when
a freshet comes, the water becomes clean—all the trash
and filth are gone. So it is in filthy pools—when fresh
water comes in, the filth is removed. Palaha meditated
on this, and when he understood it, he gave an enema
to a dog. Seeing the benefits of the enema, he thought
of the illness of his father Puheke. By experimenting, he
found the benefits of the enema given below (hahano
malalo) and the purgative given above (ho‘onaha iho
maluna), and which illnesses to treat by means of
loosening the bowels, and how to check the action of
the bowels. When Puheke died, Palaha cut his father
open, according to his father’s wish that he look inside
and see what the disease was and what its symptoms
were. Because of his work Palaha became famous in the
order of the kahuna kapa‘au [sic], and he and his father
entered into the line of succession of Lonopuha kahunas
(papa mo‘o kahuna Lonopuha). (Kamakau, Ka Po‘e
Kahiko 111–112)
94  A‘o

There is another, slightly different, version of the same tradition.

There was a man named Palaha who was sick. His
son, Palapuheke, tried to cure him, but his father died.
Palapuheke cut open his father’s stomach and saw a
large accumulation of filth had collected inside of his
father. He believed that this accumulation was the cause
for the failure of the medicine to work.

Palapuheke saw that this situation was similar with

nature. He observed how the soil in the uplands
accumulated and became filthy in the streams, but when
it rained the water washed the soil away. He also saw
the soil being washed out to sea during the high tide.
Reflecting upon these events, Palapuheke got a water
gourd with a long spout, placed some medicines in it
and inserted it into a dog. The enema purged the dog. He
tried the enema on a woman, and it also worked. Lastly
Palapuheke tried it on a man and it worked too. (Chun,
Hawaiian Medicine Book 54–55)

These two versions of the same tradition are full of important

information. It is obvious that the son has employed the skills of
good observation and deduction. The deduction part is tremendously
important because he was able to piece together the sequence of
actions of the fresh water, and reflecting upon it he was able to
come to a conclusion. If we go back to those guiding principles
of traditional education, we see how important reflection ‘pa‘a ka
waha’ is to the process—not purely being quiet and attentive but also
allowing the creative process of thinking to take place.
This is not the end of this analysis, for the son then does
something people usually do not relate to indigenous cultures. He
conducted a scientific experiment to ensure that his discovery would
work. The son takes this whole procedure up another notch and
conducts an autopsy on his father, as instructed, for the sole purpose
of scientific discovery. That is a major point in our re-discovery of
traditional learning, because people often would like to believe that
indigenous peoples, unlike peoples of the Western world, stumbled
upon their discoveries and inventions.
 No Nā Mamo  95

This became a tremendously important event in our culture for

we have been led to believe that the cutting up of the human body
was not performed here, although sub-incision was done to young
boys as a ritual to maturity. This entire story demonstrates the fact
that localized self-directed discovery for the sake of knowledge,
which is the basis for the scientific revolution and much of the
world’s attitudes about education, was part of what some have called
a primitive society.
Indeed, the son and father were entered into the memory of the
priesthood. We have the complete chants of this priesthood, and in
the prayers of thanksgiving and remembrance are these lines:
The priests who gather during the night,
Lonopuha and Milu Koomea,
Nahilipuna, Nahiliwai,
Keanuiki, Keanunui,
Keanuohua, Piipii,
Palaha, Palapuheke,
Maiaea, Kalaniwahine, (Chun, Hawaiian Medicine Book 49)

Demonstrating Mastery
In the few examples to be found in the traditions about
instruction between a teacher and students, there are some that
describe how a teacher determined the student’s mastery. In the
practice of the kāhuna hāhā ‘medicinal practitioners who used
palpation,’ after intense training using a physical diagram of pebbles
to represent a person’s body and illnesses, Kamakau says,
[t]hen the teacher would bring in a man who had many
disorders and would call the pupils one by one to go and
“feel,” haha, for the diseases. If the diagnosis (‘ike haha)
was the same as that of the teacher, then the teacher
knew that the pupil had knowledge of haha. (Ka Po‘e
Kahiko 108)

In the practice of ‘anā‘anā ‘practice of inflicting illness or death

through prayers,’ after rigorous training in learning prayers, a ritual
called ‘ailolo that used a baked pig from each student to divine a
message of the student’s proficiency was invoked. According to
96  A‘o

Kamakau “[i]f a pig was all right, but an eye had fallen out or the
throat was cracked [. . .] [t]hat pupil should not practice what he
had been taught, for he would have an insatiable greed for other
people’s property [. . .]” (Ka Po‘e Kahiko 121). A similar ceremony is
said to be part of the training for traditional hula dancers. Nathaniel
Emerson describes it in his account of the hula, Unwritten Literature
of Hawaii.
Now comes the pith of the ceremony: the novitiates sit
down to the feast of ai-lolo, theirs the place of honor, at
the head of the table, next the kuahu [altar]. The ho‘o-
pa‘a, acting as carver, [. . .] sets an equal portion before
each novitiate. Each one must eat all that is set before
him. It is a mystical rite, a sacrament; [. . .] The kumu
lifts the tabu by uttering a prayer—always a song—and
declares the place and the feast free, [. . .] The pupils
have been graduated from the school of the halau; they
are now members of the great guild of hula dancers.
(34–35)

The next stage in their initiation is what Emerson called their

“début” or “uniki” when they “present themselves to the breathless
audience” (Emerson 35).
A friend of mine at the university was ending her training with
her kumu hula ‘hula master or instructor’ and invited me to attend
her ‘ūniki at the music department’s auditorium. She had been
trained in the traditional or ancient forms of hula, and the ‘ūniki was
the opportunity for her to demonstrate her proficiency in the various
styles of dance as well as to utilize the instruments that she had to
make. It was a long time ago, but I recall how nervous she was until
she began to chant the prayers invoking the god/goddess of hula,
Laka, and then the individual chants to put on her apparel for the
performances. Those chants, as they should have been, were ho‘oulu,
that is, meant to inspire and bring the spirit of the hula into her; in
fact, her name was Ho‘oulu.
Evaluation of mastery did not have to be purely demonstrative.
In a less formal situation John Papa ‘Ī‘ī recalled how he had been
“tested” by his uncle, Papa. He recalled that
 No Nā Mamo  97

[a]bout two or three weeks after the trip to Ewa, on the

day of Muku, the last day of the lunar month, all of the
chiefs went to Waikiki to surf. When evening came they
went to Leahi, where the royal parent, Kamehameha,
had a house separate from that of Liholiho. Ii and Papa
shared the house of the young chief. When the sun grew
warm the next day, which is Hilo, Papa called Ii to come
and sit beside him, where he lay face down at the end of
the house. The young chief, who occupied the other half
of the house, was watching. (55)

The setting ‘Ī‘ī describes is disarming, non-threatening, and a far

cry from the formality that is used today for almost any examination
or interview. The informality of it all should indicate to the boy that
this is all conversation and not an examination of any sorts. Then,
Papa asked his nephew which he would choose between
Kamokupanee (Expanding Island) and Lualewa
(Without Foundation). The boy was unable to answer,
for he did not understand the question. Then he
was told that Kamokupanee meant the father chief,
Kamehameha, and Lualewa meant the young chief,
Liholiho. (55)

The examination question is coded in poetic or indirect language

that whatever the answer the boy chooses would be indirect and not
insulting to the actual persons being referred to, but the metaphor is
too indirect and instead of, perhaps, sidestepping the issue, ‘Ī‘ī admits
he doesn’t understand it at all. Unlike modern testing where the boy
could be seen as failing the test for not understanding the method
being used, Papa reveals the true nature of the test—choosing sides
and loyalty of one chief over another. It is evident that ‘Ī‘ī recalled
how difficult the moment was, especially with the young chief
Liholiho present, but the boy answers.
He was embarrassed about being asked such a question in
the presence of one of the chiefs; but he replied, “The father
chief is the wealthy one. The young chief has no wealth.”
Then he added, “Perhaps I shall remain with Lualewa.”
98  A‘o

When Papa replied, “This chief of ours is without

wealth,” the boy said, “The chief without wealth should
be obeyed, and when he becomes wealthy, the servant
becomes wealthy too.” (55)

‘Ī‘ī not only answers the question, he demonstrates to his

uncle that he understands the gravity of the question and gives his
reasoning, to which, “[a]ll of those present approved of this reasoning,
the young chief included” (Ii 55). Those gathered must have been
pleased because of the loyalty the boy showed in his choice, but I
also think they, especially Papa, were taken with how he came to his
conclusion. If he had chosen the king, Kamehameha, then he would
side with immediate favors and provisions, but in the longer run, who
would provide for him? By choosing the son and heir, he demonstrated
the virtue of patience and with Liholiho present also loyalty.

Educating the New Leadership

The education of young chiefs was different from that of the
priests, for it centered upon leadership in politics, the military,
and religion. Leadership in politics requires the art and skill of
governance; in the military, the ability to direct battle and to fight;
and in religion, the knowledge and skill to conduct rituals and
ceremonies as a chief-priest. We do not have as detailed accounts
of the education of the young chiefs as Kamakau has given for the
priesthood. Malo gives a glimpse of the intensity of their training,
especially for warfare, but whether or not the young chief would
choose to heed and interpret advice was another matter.
An early description of their introduction to their roles as leaders
is told by the native scholar Davida Malo.
[. . .] during the youth of the ali‘i ‘aimoku [paramount
chief of district or island], they were sent out to live with
wise and skilled people, and to listen first to the words of
experts and to the important things that would benefit
their rule. They were to first show bravery in combat and
in wisdom and to do these things without any hesitation.

Furthermore, [these young people] would initially live

with another ali‘i in a state of poverty, starvation and
 No Nā Mamo  99

famine so they would remember what these conditions

of life were like. Some were taught to take care of the
people using great patience and they were even belittled
below the position of the maka‘āinana. (173)

Once again we see, even with the rank and status of chiefs, the
elements of traditional education being employed when Malo states,
“to listen first to the words of experts.” We presume this process
followed that of other young boys who probably were educated in the
hale mua, the men’s house, where they became familiar with several
religious ceremonies and where, it is assumed, skills in fishing and
other tasks were taught, and many traditions told.
Another virtue acquired from mentorship and experiential
learning is shown in this account of how the young warrior
Kekūhaupi‘o learned to wrestle with a niuhi or “tiger shark.” And
although this is another example of the chief and priestly ways of
education, the story underlines the importance of how youth can
acquire the virtue of patience.
When Kekūhaupi‘o saw this large-mouthed fish he
mentally prepared himself for an immediate leap, but his
teacher spoke: E Kekūhaupi‘o ē, don’t hasten to leap into
the fight with your opponent, but let us play with him.
[. . .] When he has swallowed enough, then my chiefly
pupil, the fight will be more equitable. This is something
good for you to learn: in the future when you fight an
opponent, don’t hasten to leap forward, but first study
his nature to enable you to learn his weakness, then it
will be easy for you to secure him by one of the methods
you have learned. [. . .]

As Kekūhaupi‘o again prepared to leap his teacher again

said: E Kekūhaupi‘o ē, don’t be too hasty—listen well to
me—when I tell you to leap, attempt to dive under this
fish [. . .], but not just at this moment as the sea has not
cleared. [. . .]

Kekūhaupi‘o was impatient with these words for he

greatly wished to leap into the fight [. . .].
100  A‘o

Kekūhaupi‘o’s teacher stared intently at the shark and how

he gobbled the greasy sea water. [. . .] When he saw that the
time was right he ordered the men to drop the sail and the
order was quickly carried out. [. . .] Leap forth, Kekūhaupi‘o
and fight with this famous fish [. . .]. (Desha 9–10)

We have but a glimpse of what was emphasized and passed

down to the young chiefs from the post-contact period during
Kamehameha’s reign. The inference is that these traditions and
ideals were probably still handed down from generations before,
comprising, as Malo states, “the important things that would benefit
their rule” (173).
Whenever there was a meeting in the Ahuena house
in the evening, the king instructed the heir carefully
as to how to do things, describing the lives of former
rulers such as Keakealaniwahine, Kalaniopuu, Koihala,
Kamalalawalu, Kauhiakama, and Hakau. Thus Liholiho
learned the results of abuse and disregard of the welfare
of chiefs and commoners and about farming and fishing
and things of like nature. In the discussions with the
king the heir derived understanding which has passed
down to his heirs of today. (Ii 129)

The traditions of those named chiefs are remembered as examples

of certain qualities, good and bad. For instance, Keākealaniwahine
is remembered because she was the first female chief to become a
paramount chief with the equal rights and responsibilities of any male
paramount chief before her; Ko‘ihala is well remembered as one of
the despotic or abusive chiefs from the Ka‘ū district of the island of
Hawai‘i, and Hākau is remembered as the abusive older brother of the
high chief ‘Umi, ancestor of the Kamehamehas.
This recollection of the importance of knowing events of past
ali‘i was important to Kamehameha when he met with his equal,
Kaumuali‘i, from the independent island of Kaua‘i, in 1810. This
encounter was risky and full of plots and intrigue.
It was in the year 1810 [. . .] that a discussion was held
between the chiefs and Kamehameha pertaining to
the advisability of Kaumualii’s coming to meet him.
 No Nā Mamo  101

Meanwhile the chiefs plotted to have Kaumualii put to

death when he arrived [. . .]. However, Kamehameha
did not approve of the plot, for he had often heard of the
hospitality accorded to the chiefs of the eastern islands
when they went to Kauai. (Ii 81)

What he remembered was the tradition of the chiefs called the

hua, described in the chapter on Alaka‘i. It was one of the traditions
of chiefs probably told to him as a young boy being trained to rule. In
fact we know from ‘Ī‘ī that his training had begun many years before
the age at which a young chief would be allowed to exercise his rank
and status.
There were many things to show that Kamehameha was
a ruling chief, though he was not yet ready to rule. He
was too young, being about 19 or 20 years old, and the
custom then was just as it is now. (Ii 6)

A Kingdom of Learning
He aupuni palapala ko‘u; o ke kanaka pono ‘oia ko‘u kanaka.
Mine is the kingdom of education; the righteous man is my man.
- Kamehameha III

Nani nā lehua kāpili wai a ka manu,

Nani nā lehua lū lehua o ka manu,
Nani nā pua o ka ‘ae‘ae,
Nani nā ‘ulu hua pala i ka lau,
Nani nā ki‘owai o Kalawari,
Nani wai o ua nei i ka pali,
Pākū akula i nā pali,
Hio nā lua o nā wai i ka makani,
Noho pākū i ke kuahiwi,
E ho‘i ma Hiku i ka uka,
Ka lālā i ka wai la ku‘ua,
Ku‘ua mai manu‘u kelekele
Ho‘okela mai e ka la,
‘O Maku‘ukaokao, ‘o Makilihoehoe,
E ka lālā i ka na‘auao la ku‘ua,
Ho‘onu‘u iho a kū kahauli.

Beautiful are the lehua of the nectar of the birds,

Beautiful are the lehua scattered by the birds,
102  A‘o

Beautiful are the flowers of the ‘ae‘ae,

Beautiful are the ripe ‘ulu fruit among the leaves,
Beautiful are the pools of Calvary,
Beautiful is the water of the rain in the heights,
That hides the cliffs,
The water on the leaves is shaken off in the wind,
That grows like a veil in the mountain range,
Going to Hiku in the uplands,
The branching of the water, released,
Flowing forth that swells and makes it muddy
The sun is glorious,
Maku‘ukaokao, Makilihoehoe
Whose learning flows like a stream,
Eager these to be honored men.

The historian Samuel Manaiakalani Kamakau cited this mele

‘chant,’ particularly the last two lines, “Whose learning flows like a
stream, Eager these to be honored men,” because it illustrated his
point that there was a time when, “[p]arents would then be anxious
to have their children educated, or, if they had no children, would
adopt others and educate them to bring honor to the name of such
parents” (Ruling Chiefs 373).
Some may find such a claim to be remarkable or even
bewildering in light of the difficulties and challenges presented in
education today. But Kamakau was an eye-witness to that time.

[. . .] the government of learning moved along quickly so

that within half a year there were thousands of persons
who knew how to read, write, and spell. The governor
of Kauai had his own teacher, so had the governor of
Maui, and this humble writer was one of those who
taught. Many of these old-time teachers are still living.
Of the pupils who entered the first, second, and third
classes at Lahainaluna, half of were elementary teachers
whose knowledge and capacity had been tested before
the missionary teachers, and the chiefs had selected
from among them those whom each wished to educate
at Lahainaluna. That is how the government of learning
moved ahead. (Ruling Chiefs 424)
 No Nā Mamo  103

This government of learning had been proclaimed in 1824 by

the ten- or eleven-year-old king, His Majesty King Kamehameha
III, at Honuakaha, in Honolulu. “Chiefs and people, give ear to my
remarks. My kingdom shall be a kingdom of learning” (Kamakau,
Ruling Chiefs 319). However, Hawaiians were learning how to read
and write years before the arrival of the first company of American
missionaries. There is a tendency to forget that there were some
forty-two years of continuous encounters and exchanges between
the Hawaiian population and Euro-American explorers, adventures,
traders, and beachcombers as well as Chinese, African-Americans,
and Tahitians before the first missionaries arrived.
This new technology was known as palapala, probably derived
from the word pala or kāpala which depicts the action of stamping
or blotting designs upon kapa ‘barkcloth,’ and hence, printing. David
Samwell observed an exchange between some women who were
making kapa and the British and recorded the event in his journal.
But, Samwell went further and is perhaps the first foreigner to have
given instructions to the Hawaiians, in this case a group of women,
in literacy.
[. . .] they call it ‘cappara’ [kapala] & always gave the
same appellation to our writing, & the Young Women
would frequently take the pens out of our hands and
shew us that they could ‘cappara’ as well as us, and gave
us to understand that our pens were much inferior to
their brushes; they looked upon a written sheet of paper
as a piece of Cloth marked in various figures according
to our own fancy and the fashion of our Country, and
seeing some of us frequently employed at this Work
they thought that making Cloth was the chief part of
our Business – tho’ at last they came to understand that
our Characters had some meaning in them which theirs
wanted, from seeing us put words down and the Names
of things which we asked of them & I dont remember
ever having seen them express more pleasure &
astonishment than they did at hearing one of their Songs
repeated which I had wrote down on a piece of paper.
(Beaglehole 1,187)
104  A‘o

Captain King must have been with Samwell for he describes it

almost in the same language, but he says the word used was kipparee
[kipali?].
The business of painting belongs entirely to the women,
and is called kipparee; and it is remarkable, that they
always gave the same name to our writing. The young
women would often take the pen out of our hands, and
shew us, that they knew the use of it as well as we did; at
the same time telling us, that our pens were not so good
as theirs. They looked upon a sheet of written paper, as
a piece of cloth striped after the fashion of our country,
and it was not without the utmost difficulty, that we
could make them understand, that our figures had a
meaning in them which theirs had not. (King, J. 149)

When the first printing press began operation, the word for
printing changed to pa‘i, that is, to strike hard or to hit hard, as with
the kapa beater upon the wood anvil. Even the word for writing
probably came from the same source as tattoo or “kākau,” again,
to set a mark as on a kapa or on the skin. The cleverness, even the
genius, of the Hawaiian mind, in this appropriation and adaptation
of such a new skill, was to keenly observe how close it was to the
traditional technology of kapa making, and that it was indeed not an
untouchable icon, but a powerful new technology that they could,
indeed, gain access to.
We know that arrival of the first company of American
missionaries was a very tenuous affair and it took at least three years
to establish themselves in the islands. In a journal of one of the
missionaries sent to King Kaumuali‘i on the island of Kaua‘i, this
dialogue was recorded.

This morning Tamoree sent for me-said his interpreter

was going away to be gone several days, and he wished
to say a few things to me before he went. I want to know
if you love Hoomehoome [Humehume], if you love me,
if you like to stay here and learn my people. I assured
him that I loved his son and him, and I wished to spend
my life in doing them good, [. . .]. Hoomehoome tell
 No Nā Mamo  105

me so, says he; he then shed tears freely and said, I love
Hoomehoome. I love him very much more than my
other children. I thought he was dead; I cry many times
because I think he was dead. Some Captains tell me he
live in America, but I not believe; I say no, he dead, he
no come back. But he live, he come again; my heart very
glad. I want my son to help me; he speaks English and
can do my business. But he is young; young men are
sometimes wild, they want advice. I want you stay here
and help Hoomehoome, and when vessels come you and
Hoomehoome go on board and trade, so I make you
chief. (“Return of Prince George to Atooi” 771–772)

The chiefs clearly understood the power of this new technology

and tried to gain access to it. And learning, like today’s latest
computer-related technology, just was not readily available on
the open market. We know that it took nearly three years for the
missionaries to develop a standardized alphabet, and then only after
seeking the consultation and assistance of the Revs. William Ellis,
Daniel Tyerman, and George Bennett of the London Missionary
Society (LMS) based in Tahiti. We also know now that with the
LMS consultants came, unexpectedly, several Tahitian Christians
who were supposed to have disembarked at some other islands off
Tahiti, but due to a storm, had journeyed all the way to Hawai‘i
with their English colleagues. Their close genetic, ancestral, and
linguistic ties to the Hawaiians opened a means of communication,
which the missionaries had struggled with for the first two years. The
once inaccessible technology now came with translation, and more
importantly, teachers for the chiefs. Again, as Kamakau recounts
the situation, “As soon as the chiefs saw what a good thing it was to
know how to read and write, each chief took teachers into his home
to teach the chiefs of his household” (Ruling Chiefs 248).
With access now guaranteed, Kamakau would report, “Before
the end of the year the old people over eighty and ninety years old
were reading the Bible. [. . .] When the missionaries began to settle in
the outer districts they found that people already knew how to read”
(Ruling Chiefs 249). Cultural anthropologist Marshall Sahlins found
this native school system to be significant to the continuance of
106  A‘o

Hawaiian culture. He described “quasi-ritual centers, corresponding

in their organization to the hierarchy and segmentations of the
system of chiefship,” to which he added, “And all this had been
accomplished without benefit of clergy” (Kirch and Sahlins I: 92).
Widespread literacy was first accomplished by instruction
within the household or compound of the chief. The brightest of his
household and retainers became teachers who were sent to villages
and settlements where they established schools on behalf of their
chief and for the “government of learning.” The Rev. Sheldon Dibble
wrote this account of one such scholar named Mo‘o.
A young man named Moo, pipe-lighter to Hoapili,
being regarded as a rather bright scholar, Hoapili sent
him to Hawaii to be teacher for the district of Puna—a
district nearly or quite as large as a county in the state
of Massachusetts. He took a central post and collected
a school. As soon as his scholars had made a little
proficiency he sent out the best of them to the right hand and
to the left, to be teachers of other schools, and he continued
their course till every village of Puna was furnished
with a teacher. A process something after this sort was
simultaneously going on from Hawaii to Kauai. (217)

We return again to the words of Kamakau.

In his speech at Honuakaha he [Kamehameha III]
proclaimed “The government of learning” in which chiefs
should teach commoners and each one teach another.
Teachers were distributed about the islands, and only those
who could not walk stayed away from school. Some schools
had a hundred, some a thousand pupils. From children to
bearded men, all were gathered into the schools. Buildings
went up over night to serve as school houses; if a landlord
refused to build he lost his post. A line separated those who
could read from those who could not. The concert exercises
by which they were taught delighted the people. The
rhythmical sound of the voices in unison as they rose and
fell was like that of the breakers that rise and fall at Waialua
or like the beat of the stick hula in the time of Pele-io-
holani and Ka-lani-‘opu‘u. (Ruling Chiefs 422–423)
 No Nā Mamo  107

Kamakau also revealed the simple methodology used, perhaps

based upon the rote methods used in the memorization of chants,
prayers, and oratory.
Reading aloud in unison was the method used. [. . .] The
quickest pupils were advanced, and this made the pupils
ambitious to be at the head. The teachers made great
strides in their methods of teaching, not only in reading
but also in writing. All followed the same method and
drilled good behavior into the pupils. (Ruling Chiefs 249)

The study of letters was taken up universally from the

king’s own household to the remotest country dwelling.
Schools were established all over Oahu conducted like
the schools of the hula in old days. After the second
or third week they would hold all-night and all-day
sessions, and as April 19 of each year approached, when
all gathered for the yearly exhibition (ho‘ike), from
Kepukaki you could see the lights burning all the way
from Nu‘uanu Pali to Kaimuki. Each school vied with
the others to make the best showing on the day of the
exhibition, and the winner would receive acclaim from
the public. (Ruling Chiefs 270)

First mission schoolhouse at KawaiaHa‘o, Honolulu in 1820 by G. Holmes

At first the missionaries seemed to employ an examination at the

schools where students would publicly demonstrate their new skills
and competence. One of the earliest accounts of such an examination
108  A‘o

is found in a letter from the Honolulu station dated January 11, 1823.
They proudly told of the attendance of 12 chiefs at the examination.
Nahienaena, and Opiia, one of the wives of the late king,
with her present husband, Laanui, bore an interesting
part of the examination. Nor was the king’s copy-
book, with its fair, neat pages, and his communication
before alluded to, which was read to the assembly, less
interesting. [. . .] The queen recited about half of Watt’s
catechism. Kahuhu [brother of John Papa ‘Ī‘ī] read with
fluency a passage from the Bible.—Two others presented
their first essay on composition; and Naihi handed in
a declaration, written in his own hand, containing four
words—“Aroka [sic] au ia Jehovo.” [sic] [Aloha au iā
Iehova]—I love the Lord. Opiia exhibited fair hand
writing, and so did many others. (“Letter from the
Mission to the Corresponding Secretary” 165)

This system of examination developed into more of a public

festival or hō‘ike ‘exhibition’ in later years. The Rev. Tinker described
a hō‘ike in 1831.
The shell horn blowing early for examination of the
schools, in the meeting house. About 2,000 scholars
present, some wrapped in large quantity of native cloth,
with wreaths of evergreen about their heads and hanging
towards their feet [maile or fern lei?] - others dressed
in calico and silk with large necklaces of braided hair
and wreaths of red and yellow and green feathers very
beautiful and expensive.

[. . .] The King and chiefs were present, and examined

among the rest. They read in various books, and 450 in 4
rows wrote the same sentence at the same time on slates.
They perform with some ceremony. In this exercise,
one of the teachers cried out with as much importance
as an orderly serjeant . . . and immediately the whole
company began to sit up straight. At the next order, they
stood on their feet. At the next they “handled” slates or
“presented”—i.e. they held them resting on the left arm as
a musician would place his fiddle. At the next order, they
 No Nā Mamo  109

brought their pencils to bear upon the broadsides of their

slates ready for action. Mr. Bingham then put into the
crier’s ear the sentence to be written, which he proclaimed
with all his might and a movement of the 450 pencils
commenced which from their creaking was like the music
of machinery lacking oil. (Kuykendall 108–109)

These were major events, not like the hula performances and
exhibitions that the missionaries were trying to discourage. In fact,
Honolulu schools held their hō‘ike quarterly according to the Rev.
Dibble, who describes how much preparation was done prior to a
major hō‘ike.
Several weeks previous to an examination were spent both
by teachers and scholars as a special season of preparation.
Months, perhaps, may have passed with scarcely a school,
but the stimulus of an approaching examination had power
to call in every scholar and to make them day after day
patiently attentive to what was taught them.

The time approaches to assemble. Food must be baked

for the journey and for the occasion, sufficient to last one
or two weeks. The scholar wraps his food in one bundle
and his best suit of kapas in another and balances the
two with a stick on his shoulder. [. . .] From fifty to one
hundred schools, in the same style, arrive. Some find
lodgings with the residents of the town or neighborhood,
but most are obliged to construct small huts of leaves or
grass [. . .]. The day of examination arrives. The chiefs
are present in their gayest dresses and scholars in their
newest kapas. No house will contain the assembly. The
meeting house is chosen as being the largest. (220)

Laura Judd also witnessed a hō‘ike and entered into her journal,
with her frank and honest style, her amazement and the ability of
Hawaiians to grasp literacy.
The grand annual exhibition of all the schools on this
island is to be held at the church. Adults compose these
schools, as the children are not yet tamed. The people
come from each district in procession, headed by the
110  A‘o

principal man of the land (konohiki), all dressed in one

uniform color of native cloth. [. . .] the “kihei” for men,
and the “pau” for women.

It is astonishing how so many have learned to read with

so few books. They teach each other, making use of
banana leaves, smooth stones, and the wet sand on the
sea beach, as tablets. Some read equally well with the
book upside down or sidewise, as four or five of them
learn from the same book with one teacher, crowding
around him as closely as possible. (17)

In 1840, during the visit of the American scientific expedition,

both Captain Wilkes and the medical doctor, Charles Pickering,
remarked on the excellent performances of Hawaiian students.
At an examination in the old church, there were seven
hundred children, and as many more parents. The
attraction that drew together such numbers, was a feast,
which I understood was given annually. The scholars
had banners, with various mottoes, in Hawaiian, (which
were translated to me,) as emblematical of purity, good
conduct, steadfast in faith, &c. [. . .] On my arrival at
the church, I found several tables set out, one for the
accommodation of the chiefs, furnished as we see for a
4th of July lunch at home, with hams, turkeys, chickens,
pies, &c. The common people’s children took their poe
and raw fish on the floor. [. . .] It was a joyous sight
to see fifteen hundred human beings so happy and
gratified by this molasses feast: poe and raw fish were
the only additions. The latter are everyday food, so that
the molasses constituted the special treat. So great is the
fondness of the natives for it, that I was told many are
induced to send their children to school, merely to entitle
them to be present at this feast. [. . .] At the schools, it
has been observed that the scholars are extremely fond
of calculations in arithmetic, and possess extraordinary
talent in that way. So great is their fondness for it, that in
some schools the teachers have had recourse to depriving
them of the study as a punishment. (Wilkes IV: 56–58)
 No Nā Mamo  111

Pickering must have visited Lāhaināluna where he was shown

the engravings that the students were becoming famous for, and so
accomplished that some of them became involved in forging the local
currency at the school.
Engraving, was an unexpected accomplishment to find
among Polynesians: and some drawings of ships were
shown to me, which exhibited a neatness and a correctness
in minute detail, not often met with. I witnessed at the
mission schools, the remarkable universal talent and
fondness for mathematical pursuits; [. . .] Printing, too, was
conducted by natives [. . .]. (Pickering 88)

Of his own education Kamakau proudly admits that he did not

have such a formal education until he entered Lahainaluna High
School.
I had no teacher to teach me the alphabet and numbers
[. . .] No one ever taught me to add, multiply, subtract, or
to divide [. . .]. I entered high school without taking up
the preparatory steps. [. . .] [t]he pupils themselves taught
each other with great patience. (Ruling Chiefs 409)

At a world exposition in Paris during the late 1860s, the

Kingdom of Hawai‘i had an exhibit. Kamakau noted that it was the
only government from the Pacific represented.
The European governments are astonished to see the
sign outside the Hawaiian room at the exposition.
They cannot believe it. A race of man-eaters are the
Hawaiian people, are they not? And do they really have
a government? And have they a room here? Then they
examine the exhibit and see a cloak made out of bird
feathers, a wreath of bird feathers, and a number of other
objects from ancient times. They see the products of
the country—sugar, molasses, rice, coffee. At the office
of the Hawaiian government they find books from the
first pi-a-pa primer to books large and small, the Bible,
and newspaper files beginning with the Lama Hawaii
and the Kumu Hawaii and ending with the Au ‘Oko‘a
112  A‘o

and the Ku‘oko‘a. Books for education, books of laws

from the beginning to the present time. The office has a
quantity of Hawaiian manuscripts. The men interested
in education look at each other and say, “This cannibal
island is ahead in literacy; and the enlightened countries
of Europe are behind it!” (Ruling Chiefs 420)

He was not merely boasting. “Between 1824 and 1846 about 80

books were published covering 65,444 pages. In 1827 a beginning
was made in printing the Bible; in 1832 the New Testament was
printed; in 1839 the whole Bible was in the hands of the Hawaiians”
(Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 405). But the picture was not as rosy as
it might seem. The 1832 statistics of the general minutes of the
Sandwich Island Mission report a total of 23,127 readers, but then
the numbers began to dramatically decline, and two years later were
down to less than half that number (Kirch and Sahlins I: 124). Sahlins
believes this was due to the waning authority and control of the
chiefs over the commoners. He says, “Early on reports came in from
O‘ahu and the other islands that church attendance on Sundays had
fallen off markedly and the schools were being abandoned wholesale
by students and teachers alike. The ‘peculiar school system,’ wrote
Rev. Dibble, ‘crumbled into ruins’” (Kirch and Sahlins I: 123).
Something had gone wrong. Sahlins is right in pointing out that the
exact date cannot be precisely attributed, but it occurred in the early-
to mid-1830s. Again, we turn to Kamakau’s eyewitness account:
But how about the people who strive for an education
today? They are no better off than the unlearned; luckless
fishermen who make no better catch than the ignorant.
After graduating from high school they turn to hard
labor for a living. (Ruling Chiefs 373)

In the school they may have learned navigation

and know all the rules by which to find latitude and
longitude by the sextant, by the sun and Mercury, by
the moon and stars, by heaving the lead, and all other
means of directing the ship into the desired haven. But
upon emerging from the school and seeking a place
in which to show their skill, what do they find? Some
 No Nā Mamo  113

become school teachers, some preachers, some are in

government, some make a living in ways suited to the
uneducated, but the larger number become idlers. Many
of them would like to go into something worth-while but
are prevented by poverty, and cannot take up any kind
of work they would be fitted for. [. . .] They are just lost
like one hidden away in a clump of grass [. . .]. All this
learning concerning the circuit of the sun, the planets,
the comet, [. . .]—of what good is it? Where is it leading?
(Ruling Chiefs 375)

This history lesson on the development of literacy in the

Hawaiian Islands should be understood in the same manner that
Kamehameha, as a young man, related to the traditions of several
generations before his time in his quest to unify the islands. It can be
history, prophecy, and a forewarning.
The seeming tremendous success of the new technology of
palapala was due to several factors:
government sanction and sponsorship;
authority and encouragement of the chiefs;
culturally based instruction that comprised role models,
mentoring and training for teachers, group learning, drilling
and group activities, and the recognition of achievements;
and
supportive publications and materials.

Beyond the political implications of the times, what appears to

be a contributing factor to the later utter disinterest was the lack of
any relevant and appropriate applications or jobs. If we are to be
like Kamehameha and understand this story as a possible means for
developing new strategies to accomplish the once obtainable goal,
then we need to understand the importance of the factors mentioned
above, and, particularly, how they fit into a culturally based model.
The success of the early Hawaiian schools, from the descriptions
given by Kamakau, can be easily related to the tremendous success and
enthusiasm we see today in the very traditional descendants of those
schools: hālau hula and canoe clubs. They impress upon children and
114  A‘o

young people not only some fundamental principles of education, but

also cultural traditions, behavioral and moral values, and responsibility
as they reach adulthood. This is culturally based education using many
of the methods described in this book. We need to explore and exploit
these methods and to support the re-discovery of these skills with
appropriate and interesting publications and materials, ensuring their
relevance to our children’s discovery of their world and their future.
 No Nā Mamo  115

5 Ola
Traditional Concepts of Health and Healing
Ua ola loko i ke aloha.
Love gives life within.
Pukui, ‘Ōlelo No‘eau

E ola, ola ka lani

Ola ka honua, ola ka mauna
Ola ka moana, ola ke [a]lii
Ola ka moana, ola ke [a]lii
Ola ke kahuna, ola ke kilo
Ola na makaainana
Ola ka ai, ola ka i‘a
Hoola i na mea ulu o ka aina
Amama, amama, ua noa, lele wale.
Let it live, the sky exists
The earth exists, the mountain exists
The sea exists, the chief lives on
The sea exists, the chief lives on
The priest lives on, the observer [of the stars] lives on
The people live on
The crops flourish, the sea life flourish
The living things on the land flourish
Ended, ended, freed, depart.
Ending to “A Prayer for Healing” taught by the priest Naluho‘omana
to the chiefs from The History of Kanalu

The word ola has come to be understood as health and to refer

to a state of well-being. But the meaning of ola is so much more. It
is life. It is to be alive. We are only now beginning to rediscover the
importance of the concept of ola and all that it means.
The earliest recorded information about Native Hawaiian health
comes from the descriptions of the physical features and appearance
of Native Hawaiians as seen by Haole (American or European)
explorers and adventurers, including observations about the general
state of health in Hawai‘i. Captain King of the Discovery, sister ship to
Cook’s Resolution on his third and final voyage in 1779, wrote,
“[t]hey seem to have few native diseases among them” (Barrow
116  Ola

429), and in 1818 Russian explorer Captain Vasilli Mikahailovich

Golovnin on the Kamchatka re-confirmed that observation. “The
climate of the Sandwich Islands is hot but very healthy; epidemics
and infections are unknown to the inhabitants” (Golovnin 219).
Kamakau, writing in the mid-nineteenth-century, concurred
with them.
In very ancient times many people observed the rules
of the art of healing (‘oihana kahuna lapa‘au), but in
later times most of them abandoned medical practices
because there was not much sickness within the race.
Foreigners (malihini) had not yet come from other
lands; there were no fatal diseases (luku), no epidemics
(ahulau), no contagious diseases (ma‘i lele), no diseases
that eat away the body (ma‘i ‘a‘ai), no venereal diseases
(ma‘i pala a me ke kaokao). (Ka Po‘e Kahiko 109)

And he adds,
It was a common thing to see old men and women of a
hundred years and over, wrinkled and flabby-skinned,
with eyelids hanging shut. One does not see such people
today. (Ruling Chiefs 172)

Native accounts about health became more frequent with the

introduction of literacy and also, tragically, of foreign diseases.
Davida Malo writes that there had been a great illness, an ahulau or
epidemic, in early Hawaiian traditions during the reign of the chief
Waia, who was the son of Hāloa. This illness was called ikipuahola,
and it was followed by another illness called hailepo.
Then, in 1804, an epidemic of devastating proportions appeared
as predicted a year before by a traditional practitioner named Kama
and told to his son, Kūa‘ua‘u, a practitioner for Kamehameha. Malo
preserved the dialogue between father and son.
“I am dying. Do you know of the great illness that is
coming? You will become exhausted treating [for this
illness], because it is the [same] illness that came during
the time of Waia. This illness is the ikipuahola that wiped
out Hawai‘i leaving only twenty six survivors.” (296)
 No Nā Mamo  117

Kamakau gives this description of the epidemic.

It was a very virulent pestilence, and those who contracted
it died quickly. A person on the highway would die before
he could reach home. One might go for food and water
and die so suddenly that those at home did not know what
had happened. The body turned black at death. A few
died a lingering death, but never longer than twenty-four
hours; if they were able to hold out for a day they had a
fair chance to live. Those who lived generally lost their
hair, hence the illness was called “Head stripped bare”
(Po‘o-kole).*[1] Kamehameha contracted the disease, but
managed to live through it. His counselors all died, and
many of the chiefs and their families. (Ruling Chiefs 189)

So great was the impact of this epidemic upon Hawaiian society

that it was decided that even the chiefs needed to know what to do.
A “method of training promising members of the court as medical
kahunas” was commenced “because of the great death rate among
chiefs and commoners in the year 1806, perhaps owing to the terrible
‘oku‘u disease [. . .]” (Ii 46). “Among [the] other chiefs trained [. . .]
were Ka-lani-moku and Boki Ka-ma‘ule‘ule. Others were educated in
the art of healing chronic diseases” (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 179).
The high chief Boki, who was governor of the island of O‘ahu,
would follow up this training many years later by convening a
gathering of prominent traditional practitioners when he “returned
and lived at his place at Beretania [in Honolulu] and devoted himself
to medicine, in which he was proficient, and all those joined him
who were skilled in placing pebbles [in diagnosis], such [as] Kaao,
Kuauau, Kinopu, Kahiole, Nahinu, Kekaha, Hewahewa, and their
followers and other kahunas besides” (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 291).
There were several epidemics that followed: from 1824 to 1826
there were “epidemics of cough” that killed thousands; in 1832 there
was whooping cough that again claimed thousands of lives; in 1840
the first case of leprosy was reported; from 1845 to 1849 there were
epidemics of diarrhea, influenza, measles, and whooping cough that
killed over ten thousand (Blaisdell, History 2).
The first smallpox epidemic appeared in 1853 and killed close to
one-tenth of the native population. Kamakau’s eyewitness account is
118  Ola

a very different picture of native health than what King and Golovnin
had seen, and this situation became particularly difficult because the
government, by then under mission and foreign counsel, could do
very little to intervene.
The smallpox came, and dead bodies lay stacked like
kindling wood, red as singed hogs. Shame upon those
who brought the disease and upon the foreign doctors
who allowed their landing! [. . .] Everywhere there was
mourning and lamentation.

[. . .] A hundred were stricken in a day; scarcely one

out of ten lived. The writer went into the hospital and
saw for himself how fatal the disease was, even under
foreign doctors. [. . .] The writer himself saved over a
hundred persons [. . .], and some are living today whom
he treated at Kipahulu where the government could not
care for patients. [. . .]

From the last week in June until September the disease

raged in Honolulu. The dead fell like dried kukui twigs
tossed down by the wind. Day by day from morning till
night horse-drawn carts went about from street to street
of the town, and the dead were stacked up like a load
of wood, some in coffins, but most of them just piled
in, wrapped in cloth with heads and legs sticking out.
(Ruling Chiefs 416–417)

Native Hawaiians struggled to comprehend what had happened

and was happening. In response to this tragedy, and with few foreign
doctors available, they once again looked back, as the generation
before had done, to largely forgotten traditions. A group of eight
Native Hawaiians on the island of Maui founded an association
to investigate what could be done to intervene and stem the tide
of depopulation and disease. They met on December 20, 1866 in
Wailuku and began a series of meetings that would attempt to
determine “if traditional Native medicines, which would be cheaper
and [more] abundant, were the answer to their problems” (Chun,
Must We Wait in Despair iii) and to develop an action plan to
present to the government’s Board of Health.
 No Nā Mamo  119

One of the conclusions reached by their President J. W. H.

Kauwahi would be considered quite naïve in light of what we now
know of infectious diseases, but at that time it certainly reflected
the immense bewilderment Native Hawaiians faced in trying to
rationalize the devastation from foreign things.

Our fashions today are very different and people have

been completely won over to this different way of living.
If one slightly changes and succumbs to ignorance, then
it is likely that he or she will get sick and eventually die,
and that is the case for foreign foods, like bread, tea and
other foods; because those who were accustomed to
the more traditional ways of dressing and eating would
rest upon couches and beds and they would take care
of themselves when they were feverish and perspiring.
They would not undress and they would go on bathing
or swimming just for fun while they were still sick.
But, the Hawaiian people have mixed the new and old
ways together and in doing so they have become more
susceptible to those illnesses familiar and new to them.
Therefore, the mixing of these two types of illnesses
internally has developed into a hybrid, that is [one made
up of] the traditional illnesses contracted due to their
way of living and the food they ate, and the introduced
illnesses which are contracted due to the change of
clothing and improper health care. These type [sic] of
illnesses have mixed and become deadly because there
are no doctors or traditional practitioners who know
the medicines to treat these hybrid illnesses. [. . .] I have
reached this conclusion after having observed the habits
of our people and their reactions. (Chun, Must We Wait
in Despair xxxii)

The members of the association were educated at the mission

high school, and none of them were traditional healers, so they
decided to investigate which traditional healing practices could be
the answer to their problem. Incredibly for that time, they began, on
their own, a systematic oral history, interviewing at least twenty-two
living traditional practitioners, many of whom were the students of
120  Ola

Kūa‘ua‘u and others of the previous generation. Those interviews

were conducted in Hawaiian and were recorded in the field, and then
each report was sent to the recording secretary of the association
at Wailuku and finally written into a ledger book. The association
did this to prevent any allegations of fraud, quackery, and abuse
towards traditional healing practices and to overcome a skepticism
and prejudice in a Christian era suspicious of back-sliding to former
pagan ways, because as Davida Malo had explained earlier about
traditional healing practices, “Healing the sick was done through
worshiping the god” (207).
In 1868, perhaps due to the work of this association, for several
of their members were also members of parliament, a law was passed,
over the objections of the professional medical community, to allow
for the licensing of traditional healers. And in 1886, King Kalākaua
broadened the licensing process with the creation of a “Hawaiian
Board of Health, consisting of five kahunas, appointed by the king,
with the power to issue certificates to native kahunas to practice
‘native medicine’” (qtd. in Chun, Ka Mo‘olelo Laikini 5).

The Curious Case of ‘Awa

In the face of new health problems, we are attempting again
to rediscover the wisdom and skills of traditional healing. Our
appreciation and understanding of traditional healing practices
are no better, for we view those practices, many times unwittingly,
with new prejudices and skepticism arising out of modern attitudes
about clinical medicine or with misplaced nostalgia and inventive
romanticism.
The recent controversy over the use and abuse of ‘awa, or kava, is
a good example of modern perceptions of the use of traditional plant
materials. The controversy was spurred by two reports, one from the
U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) and the other a German
government report, warning of possible serious liver damage due to
‘awa usage. The reporting of the issue starkly illustrates two areas of
contrast between traditional and modern cultures—the use of ‘awa
outside of any cultural context and the focus on benefits—both the
therapeutic benefits of the plant itself and economic benefits of ‘awa
as an industry. The latter was clearly described in a news report.
 No Nā Mamo  121

Kava is promoted to relieve anxiety, stress and insomnia.

A member of the pepper family, it has long been used as
a ceremonial drink in the South Pacific; until recently its
biggest danger seemed to be in drinking too much of the
sedative before driving. Then, about two years ago, kava
in pill form suddenly boomed, bringing in about $30
million in sales — and Europe reported liver damage.
(Daranciang A1)

In this controversy it is the ceremonial use contrasted to the

contemporary pill usage that interests me, because the reports did
not consider any of the original cultural traditions of using ‘awa,
especially since islands where ‘awa is being grown for export are the
very places where it is traditionally drunk with rituals and prayers:
Hawai‘i, Sāmoa, Tonga, and Fiji.
The use of ‘awa in traditional culture involves its preparation as
well as its consumption. King was the first person to give a detailed
account of the way that ‘awa was prepared in Hawai‘i.

Whilst the ava is chewing, of which they always drink

before they begin their repast, the person of the highest
rank takes the lead in a sort of hymn, in which he is
presently joined by one, two, or more of the company;
the rest moving their bodies, and striking their hands
gently together, in concert with the fingers. When the ava
is ready, cups of it are handed about to those who do not
join in the song, which they keep in their hands till it is
ended; when, uniting in one loud response, they drink off
their cup. The performers of the hymn are then served
with ava, who drink it after a repetition of the same
ceremony; and, if there be present one of a very superior
rank, a cup is, last of all, presented to him, which, after
chanting some time alone, and being answered by the
rest, and pouring a little out on the ground, he drinks off.
A piece of the flesh that is dressed, is next cut off, without
any selection of the part of the animal; which, together
with some of the vegetables, being deposited at the foot of
the image of the Eatooa, and a hymn chanted, their meal
commences. (King, J. 161)
122  Ola

Although he does not tell us how long this ceremony took, we

can assume from his description of singing, serving, and drinking
that it had taken a considerable amount of time. And we can tell by
the serving of food to the participants that this is not only a religious
or ceremonial event, but also a communal one. The surgeon,
David Samwell, also described the preparation of ‘awa but in a less
ceremonial way, led by Palea, the aikāne to Kalani‘ōpu‘u.
Parea before he eat [sic] any meat drank a cup of Ava,
but this he did as if he had been taking a dose of Physic,
his Servant immediately supplying him with water to
wash his mouth & a piece of Sugar Cane to take the
Taste off. In preparing the Ava they mix no water with
it except one mouthful, which he who chews it takes to
wash his Mouth, & this he spits into the bowl among
the chewed root. They did not sing before drinking it as
others had done along side the Ship. (Beaglehole 1166)

Her Majesty Queen Sālote of Tonga compared this ritual to the

Eucharist or Holy Communion when she explained the origins of ‘awa.
The drinking of kava is thus a communion. It
commemorates not only the sacrifice of the people for
their king, but also the sympathy and appreciation of the
king for his people. But life is not ruled by love alone.
The story of the kava includes the bad with the good, the
bitter with the sweet. [. . .] So the story of the kava and
the drinking of it expresses not only the good aspect of
relations between the king and people, but also doubts
and suspicions as well. (Bott 93)

One must realize that the traditional use of ‘awa is communal

and religious because ‘awa is sacred. It was given by the gods. As
Kamakau reports, “‘Awa is the oldest drink native to Hawaii, but
this itself is not very old, for it was Lono who brought it to Ololo-
i-mehani, and Kane and Kanaloa brought it here and planted it at
Alanapo mauka of Ke‘ei on Hawaii” (Ruling Chiefs 193). Kamakau
also says that “‘Awa was a refuge and an absolution. Over the ‘awa
cup were handed down the tabus and laws of the chiefs, the tabus of
 No Nā Mamo  123

the gods, and the laws of the gods governing solemn vows and here
the wrongdoer received absolution of his wrongdoing” (The Works
43). ‘Awa, like the cup of wine, deserves respect, but it also can be
abused.
Without any ritual or ceremony, a concentrated pill of ‘awa
is, literally, all too easy to take. This approach follows a seemingly
popular attitude about individual cures for individual ailments and
illnesses. You can see this perception in action at a drug store counter
when someone is looking for something to take for aches, a cold, or
a fever and a running nose. How do you invoke the sacred when you
only have to pop a pill?
Time magazine reported that
[i]n sleepless, stress-rattled America, consumers spend
more than $50 million on kava—kava drinks, kava
drops, kava capsules, kava candy and kava tea. [. . .]
[Kava] didn’t catch on in the U.S. until 1996, when
a group of herbal-product purveyors called the Kava
General Committee decided to pool their resources and
make kava America’s herb du jour. That year, supported
by a heavy promotional campaign, retailers moved
$15 million worth of the stuff [. . .] [as] kava vaulted
out of the health-food ghetto and into the aisles of
supermarkets and K Marts. (Grossman 58)

This marketing strategy runs directly counter to the traditional

use of plant materials for various types of illnesses, which is evident
when you look over the complex and compound prescriptions and
recipes traditional practitioners have recorded since the early 1900s.
Again, we can compare what has been recorded of traditional native
pharmaceutics to the trendy way people talk of and take a single
plant material like ‘awa or noni for all kinds of ailments. It should
make you wonder what has happened to the state of traditional
native medicine.
The two reports point out how this easy modern use of ‘awa is
dangerous because it can lead to over indulgence and abuse. It is
noted in the Time article that “some of the cases reported in Europe
were complicated by extraneous factors; some patients had been
124  Ola

taking extremely high doses of kava over long periods of time,

or using it with alcohol, or taking it on top of a pre-existing liver
condition” (Grossman 58).
Abuse of ‘awa was not unheard of in traditional culture.
Kamakau reports that one use of ‘awa was for the purpose of losing
weight.
Ka po‘e kahiko liked ‘awa as a means of reducing weight.
When a man saw himself growing too fat, or perhaps
constantly being sick, then ‘awa was the thing to restore
health or to slim the body. The way to do it was to drink
‘awa like the ‘aumakua or the kaula prophets, that is,
copiously, until the skin scaled.

Such a man looked for a place where grew very potent

‘awa, ‘awa ‘ona, and obtained a large quantity. When
the drinking of the ‘awa began, all foods — ‘ai and i‘a
— were prohibited until after the ‘awa treatment had
been taken; only then could he eat. It was also tabu to go
out in the sun and rain, for the feet would crack if wet
in water or mud. [. . .] When the drinking of the ‘awa
ended, sea water was drunk. When all the effects of the
‘awa were gone, the body was slender, the illness gone,
and the body restored to health. (The Works 43)

Several captains also noted the abuse of ‘awa by chiefs and priests
in their journals. Captain James King, of the Discovery, wrote this
account of the abuse of ‘awa in March of 1779.
The Erees [ali‘i] are very free from these complaints; but
many of them suffer still more dreadful effects from the
immoderate use of the ava. Those who were the most
affected by it, had their bodies covered with a white
scurf, their eyes red and inflamed, their limbs emaciated,
the whole frame trembling and paralytic, accompanied
with a disability to raise the head. Though this drug does
not appear universally to shorten life, as was evident
from the cases of Terreeoboo, Kaoo, and some other
Chiefs, who were very old men; yet it invariably brings
on an early and decrepid old age. [. . .] The young son
 No Nā Mamo  125

of Terreeoboo, who was about twelve years old, used to

boast of his being admitted to drink ava, and shewed
[showed] us, with great triumph, a small spot in his side
that was growing scaly. (126–127)

Portlock, the next foreigner to arrive in the islands after Cook’s

death in 1779, described the degree of consumption of ‘awa and its
effects on Kahekili, the paramount chief of Maui and O‘ahu.
On the 3d [of December] Taheeterre [Kahekili] paid
me another visit attended as before, and brought his
customary present of a few hogs, vegetables, and cocoa-
nuts. [. . .] [A]ccording to his usual custom, drank vast
quantities of yava, which kept him in a most wretched
condition; he seemed quite debilitated, and his body was
entirely covered with a kind of leprous scurf. (157)

The results of their abuse did not appear to be life threatening,

however, because they did not combine ‘awa with alcohol, nor could
they take the concentrated dosage found in pills. And even if they
were over-indulging, they still had to go through some ceremony
and ritual in which socialization also occurred, and therefore slowed
consumption. King did intervene with some of the chiefs and priests
to stop the abuse, and he discovered that recovery was quick, noting
that “Our good friends, Kaireekeea and old Kaoo, were persuaded by
us to refrain from it; and they recovered amazingly during the short
time we afterward remained in the island” (127).
Ceremony, ritual, and socialization can have the effect of
deterring overindulgence and abuse in the following ways.
Individual prayers, salutations, stories, and songs do prolong
the time period over which an individual’s intake of ‘awa
occurs. Kamakau gives this commentary in his description of
how a farmer prepared ‘awa.
When the cup was filled, a prayer was offered with
gladness—for the afflictions and the blessings received
from the gods, and for their help to their offspring in this
world and in the bright world beyond. (The Works 42)
126  Ola

Even when only one person prepared and drank ‘awa, there
was a prayer of thanksgiving or salutation. Kamakau gives us
this example from the time of Kamehameha.
At midnight an old man rose up to pound ‘awa.
Hearing the pounding, the chief and his companion
came up close to the house. After pounding away
for some time on some scraps of ‘awa, the old man
strained the ‘awa and poured it into the cup. Then he
prayed for the preservation of all the chiefs, and after
that he prayed for the preservation of all the chiefesses,
then for the life of Kamehameha, saying, “Let
Kamehameha, the good king, live to be old, until his
eyebrows are wrinkled like a rat’s, his skin parched like
the dry hala leaf, until he lies helpless, so let him live, O
god, and let me live also.” The old man drank the ‘awa.
At the end of the prayer Kamehameha asked, “Is all
your ‘awa gone?” The old man answered, “The ‘awa is
gone. I have only scraps left. Last evening I gave most
of it to the god, and since I could not sleep I awoke and
pounded a little and drank it without any food (pupu)
to eat after it.” (Ruling Chiefs 182)

Despite this example, ‘awa is generally taken with food. It is

not taken by itself; the small morsels taken with ‘awa were
called pūpū perhaps after the inclusion of little shellfish
‘pūpū.’ Other foods could include kalo ‘taro,’ mai‘a ‘banana,’
and kō ‘sugar cane,’ all of which have a sweet taste, which,
it was thought, would counteract the bitterness of ‘awa.
Kamakau describes other foods to be served with ‘awa in the
following account.
Then the heads of kahala, uku, mokule‘ia and ulua
fishes, and the kumu and ‘opule lauli fishes which had
been wrapped in ti leaves and cooked were taken out of
the imu and laid on the eating mat. A bunch of dead-
ripe bananas, sections of sugar cane just on the point of
souring, sweet potatoes ridged in shape and deep red in
color, were all ready at the eating place. (The Works 42)
 No Nā Mamo  127

The social drinking of ‘awa not only emphasizes sharing,

it also serves to limit one’s intake. Further diluting of the
potency of the ‘awa depends on the number of people,
which determines the amount each person has to drink. I
experienced this in 1984 in Suva, Fiji when boarding students
invited me to an all-night kava, or “grog,” party around an
enormous tānoa, or “wooden bowl.” The cup of kava was
served, then food passed around, more water was mixed after
each round, and people would stop before or after a cup to
tell a story or to sing a song.

The controversy over ‘awa is no different from the story of

another native plant of the Americas, tobacco. Used ceremonially
as a purifying and medicinal agent for many Native American
peoples, it was transformed by non-native peoples into a secular and
pleasure-inducing habit. Overindulgence, abuse, and addiction have
transformed this plant from the purifying medicine of the new world
to one of the leading causes of cancer around the world. In hindsight
we have learned that when what once was sacred and special is
reduced to the everyday and ordinary, disastrous consequences are
likely to follow. Such disasters will occur if fundamental cultural
knowledge is not recognized, understood, and respected.

The State of Being Ma‘i and Ola

I suspect that modern attitudes toward traditional health care
‘ola’ might be similar to the attitudes we’ve seen toward the use
of ‘awa and tobacco. But, as in those cases, if we recognize and
respect the full range of cultural knowledge in the way our Hawaiian
ancestors diagnosed illnesses, I think we can see that there is a great
depth to the concept that is expressed when we talk of the state of
being ola. They considered the opposite of ola, which is ma‘i, or
“being sick,” and discovered five forms of sickness.
There is a “true” or “real” sickness such as a cold, flu, or HIV/
AIDS that is caused by a virus or bacteria.
Physical injury such as broken bones and/or cuts is another
form of illness.
128  Ola

We are very familiar with these two types of ma‘i today.

However, a person could also be sick for other reasons.

Sickness can come from retribution or revenge that occurs

when someone is angry, probably for something that has
occurred to them, and is directing the blame at the sick person.
Family problems that involve ancestral spirits, ghosts, or
something else supernatural can cause a person to become
sick.
Finally, there are illnesses known only to a single family and
not to any “outsiders.” Today we might recognize this type of
illness as genetic, psychological, or psychosomatic.

Ola and ma‘i do not just affect or concern an individual; they

affect one’s (extended) family, especially if the family relationships
are very close.
This certainly is true of “spirit/ghost sickness,”
“Hawaiian sickness” and “retribution sickness” whose
cultural cause is the breaking of some type of kapu
(prohibition or sacred things), but also can be understood
as being “more involved with a breakdown in the social
relationships” than of the body. These cultural or social
“sicknesses” reveal, through their painful physical and
mental forms, any conflict between individuals, families
and groups. These “sicknesses” also serve as a control or
deterrent to “socially undesirable behavior,” by invoking
the possibility of punishment through physical or mental
discomfort. (Chun, Ola 1)

Being sick was more than aches and pains. It involved the whole
body, mind, and environment holistically. Having described the
opposite of ola, we must then look at the causative form of ola, which
is ho‘ōla, ‘to heal and to cure.’ Treating a patient probably involved
one or more of the following:

There were frequent and lengthy consultations with the

patient and with his or her family and extended family
during the entire process of healing.
 No Nā Mamo  129

During these consultations people were encouraged to air

any grievances which might be causing tensions within the
family, especially any problems concerning illnesses, and
other difficulties.
There were several ways a practitioner could diagnosis
a patient: by palpation ‘feeling’ for the illness, by visual
examination ‘alawa maka,’ and/or through prayer ‘kāhea’ for
divine help in determining the illness and discovering the cure.
Traditionally rituals, prayers, offerings, and the constant
feeding of people involved in the consultation and healing
process were done.
A treatment was revealed to the practitioner through prayer
and/or physical diagnosis.
A patient received different treatments, first to address any
natural or physical illnesses and then, if necessary, for any of
the other types of illness described above, until the patient
was cured.

Much of this process involved significant participation from the

patient and family, so that all were fully aware of what was occurring.
This process made them feel that they were contributing to the
patient’s recovery. Therefore, at the conclusion of the treatment, not
only was the patient healed and a possible “wrong” way of living
corrected, but the family, even the extended family, was also restored
to its norm. The successful results would be cause for a display and
celebration in the form of a public or community feast.
Today many people would call this process ho‘oponopono,
with the idea that it is a process for the treatment of psychosomatic
illness, and they might be surprised to discover that it was the way to
diagnosis physical illnesses as well. This broader perspective comes
from the recognition that
illness to Hawaiians was not just a lack of physical well-
being. It was generally thought to be induced through
a medium by magic or sorcery. Sacred mana as well
as physical strength was lost in illness. The means to
correct or to help such illness was to counter it through
chants, prayers, and medicines in order to restore an
130  Ola

ill person to physical, mental, and spiritual health and

to regain the lost mana. (Chun, “Understanding La‘au
Lapa‘au” n. pag.)

Diet
Diet is another aspect of ola. Food is not just nutrients to sustain
life. It is also medicine. As the popular adage goes, “You are what
you eat,” hence my own adage, “food is medicine.” Medicine and
food were integral and related in traditional healing practices. After
the ordeal of purging, food was used to help regain strength and
to restore the patient to better health. In later traditional practices,
certain foods, such as the deep-sea fishes aku ‘skipjack,’ ‘ahi ‘tuna,’ or
mahimahi, were also banned during treatment.
What was the Hawaiian diet? Dr. Kekuni Blaisdell gives this
description.
The maka‘āinana diet of old was mainly i‘a (fish) and
other sea foods, such as ‘opihi, pāpa‘i (crab), ula (lobster)
and wana (sea urchin); kalo (taro), ‘uala (sweet potato),
uhi (yam), ‘ulu (breadfruit), leafy vegetables, like lū‘au
(taro leaf) and hō‘i‘o (fern), limu (algae relish); some
fruit, like mai‘a (banana), ‘ohi‘a‘ai (mountain apple)
and niu (coconut); and occasional moa (chicken). Pua‘a
(pig) and ‘īlio (dog) were consumed only on special feast
occasions by nā maka‘āinana. There was no pipi (beef),
hipa (mutton or lamb), kāmano (salmon), halakahiki
(pineapple), mīkana (papaya), guava, mango, pastry,
ice cream, butter, cheese, mayonnaise, ketchup, shoyu,
candy, french fries, soft drinks, beer or other alcoholic
beverages. (“Ho‘okē ‘Ai” 23)

We might look at this diet as being particularly bland, but then

most of the European cuisine was too, until the age of exploration
that began some five hundred years ago. Accounts of European
explorers and castaways who settled into the local community and
hosted or were guests at shared meals provide some details about
the Hawaiian diet, eating habits, and food preparation, and about
how encounters with foreigners were increasingly changing the way
Hawaiians ate.
 No Nā Mamo  131

We have this account from King who, as part of Cook’s

expedition, was one of the first foreigners to observe the Hawaiian
way of life.
The food of the lower class of people consists principally
of fish, and vegetables; such as yams, sweet-potatoes,
tarrow, plantains, sugar-canes, and bread-fruit. To
these, the people of a higher rank add the flesh of hogs
and dogs, dressed in the same manner as at the Society
Islands. They also eat fowls of the same domestic kind
with ours; but they are neither plentiful, nor much
esteemed by them. [. . .] Their fish they salt, and preserve
in gourd-shells; not, as we at first imagined, for the
purpose of providing against any temporary scarcity,
but from the preference they give to salted meats. For we
also found, that the Erees used to pickle pieces of pork
in the same manner, and esteemed it a great delicacy.
(King, J. 140–141)

Russian explorer Captain Iurii F. Lisianskii of the Neva gave

this detailed description of the Hawaiian diet and methods of food
preparation in 1804.
[Their] diet consists of swine and dog meat, fish, fowl,
coconuts, sweet potato, bananas, taro, and yams.
Sometimes they eat fish raw; but everything else they bake.
The women are forbidden pork, coconuts, and bananas.
The men may eat anything. They do not kill swine with
a knife but stifle them by tying a rope around the snout.
The animal is prepared for eating as follows. A hole is dug.
One or two rows of stones are placed in it and a fire is lit
on them (fire is obtained by friction). More stones are so
positioned that the air can freely circulate around them.
When the stones are very hot, they are spread out evenly
and covered with a thin layer of leaves or reeds. The beast
is placed on it and turned over until all the bristles have
disappeared. If any hairs still remain, they are scraped off
with knives or shells. Having thus cleaned the carcass,
the natives next open up the belly and remove the viscera
while the fire is laid again. As soon as the stones are hot in
132  Ola

the pit again, they take them out, leaving one layer only, on
which they duly spread leaves and then the hog. Hot stones
wrapped in leaves are put into the disembowelled beast,
which is covered over with leaves and more hot stones.
Sand or earth is finally scattered on top. The animal is thus
left until baked. Tubers are prepared in the same manner,
with the difference, however, that water is poured over
them before they are covered with hot stones. (Barratt 47)

The Sandwich Islanders use salt and are very fond of

salted fish and meat. They also prepare little balls of
taro-root flour,*[2] for consumption on long journeys.
By soaking these in fresh or salt water, they produce
something rather like meal dough. (Barratt 48)

David Samwell’s entry of how they served up the baked pork

completes this description of how they prepared the underground
baked pig that today is called kālua pig.
They use the slit bark of the Sugar Cane for Knives, with
which they cut the Meat down to the Joints and then
tear them asunder after which every one falls to with his
Hands. (Beaglehole 1163)

Archibald Campbell, one of the early Europeans to live in the

islands for an extended period of time, made these observations of
his day-to-day encounters.
Fish are often eaten raw, seasoned with salt water. When
cooked, they are either done in their usual manner,
under ground, or broiled, by putting them, wrapt in
leaves, upon the fire. When the leaves are burnt, they
consider them ready.
They preserve pork by taking out the bones, and rubbing
it well with salt; after which it is made up in rolls, and
dried. [. . . ] The sugar-cane, which they chew, is also a
general article of food. (131–132)

Vasilii Nikolaevich Berkh, on the Nadezhda, another ship from

the same Russian voyage of 1804, wrote in regard to the introduction
of breadfruit to Europe by the crew of Cook’s earlier voyages.
 No Nā Mamo  133

Some thirty years ago, there was rather a commotion

in Europe about the breadfruit tree. In reality, the
breadfruit is far less nourishing than yams or taro are
and, besides, the tree does not always fruit, being easily
damaged by cold air. The roots of yams and taro, on
the other hand, may always be had in abundance, never
spoil, and are so soft that the very biggest root can be
made into small grains within five minutes. (Barratt 106)

And he added, again contrary to Cook’s description of it being

a “disagreeable mess, from its sourness” (Barrow 336) that “it is my
own opinion that taro root is the most nourishing foodstuff on earth”
(Barratt 106–107).
We can presume that the meals of the high chiefs were opulent
in comparison to everyone else, but Samwell noted that some of the
chiefs, in particular Palea, did not like fish. He observed one day
that, “It appears that the Chiefs look upon it as beneath them to
eat fish, for some being offered to Parea one day he refused it and
told us it was the food of the Women” (Beaglehole 1184). Campbell
also observed, “The king’s mode of life was very simple” (92). He
described Kamehameha’s dinner as consisting of “a dish of poe, or
taro pudding, [. . .] salt fish and consecrated pork from the morai
[. . .]. He concluded his meal by drinking half a glass of rum; but
the bottle was immediately sent away, the liquor being tabooed, or
interdicted to his guests” (93). Campbell added that “breakfast and
supper consisted of fish and sweet potatoes” (93). He also noted that
Kamehameha kept a regular meal schedule, for “he breakfasted at
eight, dined at noon, and supped at sunset” (92). This was no doubt a
result of foreign influence, for Golovnin wrote that “they still cannot
acquire the habit of regular meals and eat only when the stomach
demands it” (210).
One eating habit that all observers seem to have noticed and
commented on was the ‘ai kapu, an edict preventing women from
eating with men and prohibiting all women from eating certain food
items, which remained in effect until 1819. Lisianskii called it “a most
odd custom” that “[n]ot only are women forbidden to eat in a house
where a man is eating; they may not even enter that house. A man
may be in a female dining place, but may not touch food” (Barratt
134  Ola

47). Golovnin wrote the following in October, 1818 just before the
end of the kapu.
The women, by the way, regardless of their rank, are
forbidden to use pork in their food, although those
belonging to the nobler ranks may eat dogs, chickens,
wild fowl, and fish. It must be noted here that these
people do not consider dog meat unclean. The chiefs eat
it, and Tameamea [Kamehameha] himself prefers it to
pork; almost every day he is served a fat roasted pup for
dinner. (208)
A woman, however, no matter how noble her rank, may
not break a single one of the prohibitions imposed upon
her sex. The wife of the first chief of the entire region
around Karekekua visited me; her long silk dress of an
old-fashioned European style and an expensive looking
white shawl were proof enough that she was “a lady of
noble rank,” but when we sat down to eat with the chiefs I
could not persuade her even to stay in the cabin, let alone
dine with us. All she answered was: “Tabu,” which means
forbidden, and she ate on the quarterdeck with the wife
of another chief. Their meal consisted of a dough made
of taro root flour and raw fish, which they dipped in sea
water instead of vinegar. They would not touch a morsel
of our food except biscuits and cheese [. . . ]. (209)

One exception Lisianskii described was in the “[o]utdoors, in the

fields or on a craft for example, the sexes may eat together unless the
food be a pudding made from taro roots” (Barratt 47). And Campbell
noted, “They [women] are never permitted to eat with the men,
except when at sea, and then not out of the same dish” (135).
Golovnin saw some subtle changes in food preparation when
he noted, “Whereas formerly meat and vegetables were baked in
pits in the ground by means of hot rocks, some of their dishes
are now prepared our way, being boiled and fried.” And he saw a
serious problem of alcoholic consumption; “The common people
are also given to this destructive vice, and at present on the Island of
Woahoo, where most ships touch, some of the provisions are paid for
in alcoholic drinks as if there were a fixed form of exchange” (210).
 No Nā Mamo  135

Another important factor we must consider with regard to

the traditional diet and food preparation is that there was no
refrigeration. Having things fresh, especially meats, meant there were
very few processed foods, unless it was preserved by salting or drying
in the sun or wind. Indeed, as we have seen, Captain King observed
that salt meats were a preferred source of protein for meals.
Without refrigeration there can be no fresh meat leftovers, unless
one would tempt having a very bad stomachache and food poisoning.
This means the land and the ocean served as the pantry for sources
of protein. But a fisherman or farmer would not want to gather too
much of a catch or harvest for a daily meal lest the food spoil or be
wasted. Storage could be used, again for preserved foods, and for
tuber crops like sweet potato or pa‘i ‘ai (mashed, cooked taro root
without added water), but not for a long period of time.
Therefore, the Hawaiian diet was probably high in fiber and
low in fat, processed sugars, and salts. Only on infrequent, special
occasions, such as communal and public feasts, would there be an
excess of foods, especially fatty foods like pigs, chickens, and dogs.
Even then, we can appreciate the great sacrifice the roasting and
eating of an animal represented when we consider the tremendous
effort, time, and resources it took to raise it, and to slaughter and
cook it, and remember that with no refrigeration any leftovers went
to waste. Blaisdell warned of the dangers brought on by the insidious
change of diet.
One main difference between the nutrition of kahiko
loa and modern Hawai‘i is that there were almost no
processed and preserved foods, such as we have today.
Long ago, some salted and dried fish, yes, but certainly
not the supermarket canned foods, such as Spam,
pastries, frozen foods, fast junk foods, such as “french
fries,” dairy products, sauces, and snacks, such as see
moy, of today [. . .]. (“He Mau Ninau Ola” 15)

A Sacred Link
We have seen many of the elements that make up the concept
of ola: understanding the causes of sickness, various means of
treatment, and the idea that what we eat affects our health. But there
136  Ola

is still more to understand. Ho‘ōla has another connotation as it

relates to healing. As a verb, it can mean to spare, and as a noun,
salvation, healer, or, even, savior (Pukui and Elbert 1986: 283).
These meanings have strong religious connotations, especially in the
Christian faith, but they should not be disregarded when it comes to
traditional health.
This meaning of ola is similar to the idea described in the story of
Jesus and the Samaritan woman at the well in the Gospel according
to John 4: 1–26.
“Sir,” the woman said, “you don’t have anything to get
water with. The well is deep. Where can you get this
living water? [. . .]” Jesus answered, “All who drink this
water will be thirsty again. But those who drink the
water I give them will never thirst. In fact, the water I
give them will become a spring of water in them. It will
flow up into eternal life.” (Holy Bible, John 4: 11–14)

While the woman thinks this conversation is about the physical

“living” or flowing water, Jesus is using the image of water to
represent eternal life. It is not just the daily bread or water that makes
up living, but something else. I believe a similar understanding is to
be found in ola, when we speak of life and living.
This type of healing (ho‘ōla) centers upon a threefold
relationship between the Divine, or what most people name God(s)
and spirits; people, as a community, extended family, family, and
individual; and the intermediary, the healer.
This relationship is beautifully explained in Tonga where they
consider the principal causative agent of all sickness to be the
avanga (spirits). Traditionally, it requires three agents, or vehicles, to
complete the cycle of health, illness, and restoration or death. These
three forms are the vaka ‘vessel or canoe,’ which is the messenger,
and may actually be the medicine or cure; the taula ‘anchor,’ which
is interpreted as the priest or medium; and the faletapu ‘the house’
where the priest conducts his or her ritual. This relationship of the
divine to the practitioner and then to the patient is very similar to
the process Kamakau described concerning the training of healing
practitioners.
 No Nā Mamo  137

In the Hawaiian school of medical kahunas [practitioners

or priests], the god was the foundation, and secondly came
prayers. Third came schooling in the kinds of diseases;
fourth, in the kinds of remedies; fifth, in the art of killing;
and sixth, in the art of saving. (Ka Po‘e Kahiko 107)
Even with elaborate training, the traditional practitioners’
abilities are recognized as a gift from God or inherited through one’s
ancestors. Unlike contemporary faith healers, a native practitioner
works through a process of healing rather than an instantaneous act.
It is for these reasons that traditional practitioners are respected for
their knowledge but also feared because of their intimate relationship
with the divine. They can be dangerous and powerful, or as the late
Rev. Dr. Abraham Akaka once reminded me, “no phony baloney.”
In this form of medical practice, there is no ethic for fees or any
obligation of gifts, because healing is seen as a gift from the divine.
For the practitioner, the power to heal should be payment enough.
Even makana aloha, or gifts for service such as a bag of rice and
other foodstuffs, are not asked for and are resisted if they are seen as
payment for services. If money is given, it is usually turned over to
churches or charities rather than kept.
Central to this is the idea that the process of healing cannot be
complete without the recognition of where the power to heal came
from. Kamakau termed the prayers used by kāhuna engaged in
the process of diagnosis and the use of medicinal herbs as prayers
of “remembrance” and “thanksgiving” (Ka Po‘e Kahiko 107). The
kāhuna, when reciting these prayers, were recalling their ancestral
beginnings and later giving thanks to and acknowledgment of the
gods associated with the healing arts.
In contemporary times the invocation of the Christian God
and personal or family spirits ‘‘āumākua’ reinforces this cultural
continuity and recognition. The duality is not a contradiction but
a genuine expression of experience; after all, the mana ‘power’ of
medicines comes from the divine, through revelation such as dreams,
through ancestral inheritance, and even through the Holy Bible
during contemporary forms of healing such as wehe i ka Baibala. This
type of mana implies a different presence of the divine, being of a
more personal nature than that of a distant hovering God.
138  Ola

Medical science, in particular the pharmaceutical industry,

continues today to re-examine the forest, wild plants, and materia
medica used by indigenous peoples, and in rare instances they
do make some amazing discoveries. Even the World Health
Organization is now recognizing that the traditional practitioner
is a valued and important resource. The difficulty for the modern
researcher is to see beyond the material into the power of religion
and the divine.

“And there is no health in us”

This phrase comes from the middle of a confessional evening
prayer in the Book of Common Prayer. It sums up the state of the
total inadequacy of a person at the end of the day having forgotten or
not finished things that should have been done. It also sums up the
state of ola that we are living in today.
In 1922, the Hawaiian language newspaper Nupepa Kuokoa
published an article about the need to rediscover traditional healing
(“Eia Mai Kekahi”). It begins by lamenting the past, then calls for a
renewal for the future.
Here we are living in the modern world, but we have not
taken notice of the value of the knowledge our ancestors
had of medicines, and we regret it very much. The
medicinal priesthood was closely related to the agents
of God, who are today the ministers, the leaders of all
the priests. Several of these ministers have followed in
the ways of their predecessors, and thus has come the
saying, ‘When the high priest has completed his work,
then the medicine of the practitioner begins.’ [. . .] Our
ancestors who have departed into the night were full of
knowledge and skill. They searched for and found the
very understanding of the principles of healing the sick,
and of the various types of illnesses revealed through
the process of using different cures. Not only did they
subscribe to these treatments, but they also tended the
sick, prescribed steam baths, which are widely talked
about and practiced by families today, and prescribed
purging. [. . .] As we look upon our lives today, and
 No Nā Mamo  139

remember the dim past, we will see how dynamic this

kind of healing is, because the medical school that stands
with its door open to both the light and the darkness,
that is, the future and the past, is one that is found also
in the mountains, the ridges, the hills, and the valleys
down to the sea. These were the places where our elders
found their medicines without having to buy them, so
unlike today when we have to go to the drug store to buy
the medicines prescribed by licensed doctors.

This process was even more flexible than today, because

one did not have to pay the practitioners as one does
nowadays. Cure or not, one has to pay the doctor
today, and for some patients the doctor might not
know what is ailing you. He will treat you by trying out
some medicines, but the greater part of the problem is
that there is not a real consultative process to discover
the symptoms of the illness. This has led to wrong
prescriptions.

It has been reasoned that we should be sending young

Hawaiians to learn to become doctors. It is also good
for our elders to teach their grandchildren the secrets of
native healing so they can benefit families and friends.
This transmission of knowledge seems to have ceased
as more and more Hawaiians are seeking to get rich fast
like in the old trading days, about a hundred years ago
when people sought and amassed money only to bury it
in the ground for worms to eat.

What would you do in the forest if you do not know

of the great wealth that is there for you to treat the
aches of your body? [. . .] Therefore, it is to our benefit,
as Hawaiians, to recognize again the practices of our
ancestors. Happy is the family who lives in poverty and
a friend arrives to share his skill in healing [. . .]. So was
the healing of our ancestors. (Author’s translation)

We, too, are recognizing the value and appropriate use of

traditional health and healing.
140  Ola

Overindulgence and abuse were not the norm of traditional

life. Although they did exist in traditional times, we did not see the
wide-spread effects such as obesity or addiction to alcohol, tobacco,
or other drugs that are a part of everyday life today. The traditional
lifestyle, which included intensive food preparation, incorporated
both a healthy diet and a significant amount of exercise into daily life.
Changes to one’s diet and exercise are actions an individual can
do right now. Without farming, fishing, and the more intensive food
preparation such as pounding kalo root into poi or cooking in an
imu, there is little daily exercise in gathering and preparing foods. It
is not surprising, then, that obesity is epidemic and the government
must create guidelines that advise us to exercise for at least sixty
minutes per day, and to make that exercise very strenuous at least
three days per week. Because healthy diet and exercise patterns are
not an integral part of our lives today, they must become a matter
of discipline. Discipline is not a popular word these days, but it
really just means creating habits, and the difficult part of a habit is
keeping it up. Help is available in the form of diet plans and exercise
programs, but all of these come at a cost.
There are many popular, and sometimes faddish, diet plans
available; most of them marketed as conveniences that try to make
dieting easier. Some are actually based on the traditional Native
Hawaiian diet updated to reflect diet and food changes. Similarly,
health clubs and weight-loss programs utilize a group or a team effort
for mutual support, fun, and a sense of achievement. But, ironically,
many of these fail us because they become an additional burden
rather than an integral part of our lives.
Healthy activities can also involve our family, friends, and
even co-workers, and can be a physical and emotional expression
of taking care of each other. In traditional health care, neither
food preparation nor healing were an individual experience but
something that concerned and involved the entire ‘ohana. Learning,
as a family, some basic elements about traditional health and healing
may free one from the dependence on and costs of these diets and
exercise programs. There are three simple elements in the traditional
diet that must be understood. The first is a focus on the complex
carbohydrates of kalo and ‘uala (taro and sweet potato); the second
 No Nā Mamo  141

Henry “Papa” Auwae and associate Sabrina Mahelona conduct a traditional medicine
workshop at Hōnaunau on the island of Hawai‘i.

is that proteins are centered upon fish and not fatty meats; and the
third element is always having fresh, rather than highly processed,
foods. We must remember that feasting was done on appropriate
occasions and was not an everyday occurrence. Therefore, fatty and
rich foods were to be enjoyed but only for a brief moment.
In health care, too, a return to a family and community focus
rather than individual professional practices can benefit all of us.
Collaborative programs need to be developed that can provide sound
research, testing, and educational use of traditional healing practices
that focus on families and communities. This approach must start
with preservation and perpetuation of the cultural knowledge our
ancestors had.
Our understanding of Native Hawaiian health is greatly indebted
to the documented legacy provided by Native Hawaiians and others,
and today’s traditional practitioners need to continue to document
their practices as a historical record for the future.
Almost all native plants found on the islands were used to
some extent for medicinal recipes, but urban and commercial
encroachment has diminished the open fields and forests. The
142  Ola

availability of adequate amounts of fresh material is, therefore, at

risk. Plants in home gardens are needed to fill that niche, as are large
gardens and collections maintained solely for this purpose.
A community-based approach must also encourage practitioners
to engage in the study and practice of traditional culture and health.
Finding health care with professionals who understand traditional
healing practices can be difficult. One of the major factors leading to
the avoidance of medical professionals by Native Hawaiians has been
the lack of understanding, sensitivity, and appreciation of traditional
concepts by health professionals and institutions. In addition, some
present-day practitioners of traditional healing, who seek to equate
their practice with modern medicine, particularly in terms of fees
and status, become enmeshed in governmental and professional
regulations, standards, liability, and a myriad of other problems
that plague the medical profession today, thereby alienating their
fellow Native Hawaiians. The use of traditional healing practices
for non-life-threatening ailments can help low-income families and
communities with health care that is readily available and affordable.
As we are increasingly learning, there is a crucial role that traditional
healing can play in the larger health care picture.
All of the above may lead us to a perfect state of ola, but ola
should actually be living one’s life in pono, because if you are not,
then you are unhealthy, in one form or another. Ola is a way of
living, rather than simply a state of being healthy. Whether one is
religious or not, having guidelines for living, which are a measure of
what should or should not be done and the reasons for making those
choices, gives us a sense of direction and purpose for living. This is
what pono is all about, and the re-discovery of that way of living will
no doubt also become a road to ola, to better health.

Endnotes
1
Ka Nupepa Ku‘oko‘a, July 20, 1867.
2
‘ai pa‘a. Dried baked taro or sweet potato, known as ‘ao, was also used thus.
 No Nā Mamo  143

6 Ho‘oponopono
Traditional Ways of Healing to Make Things Right Again

We forgave and were forgiven, thrashing out

every grudge, peeve or sentiment among us.
In this way, we became a very closely bound family unit.
Pukui

Hawaiian historian Samuel Manaiakalani Kamakau described

what families in pre-contact and pre-Christian Hawai‘i did to seek
reconciliation and forgiveness.
The Hawaiians are said to be a people consecrated to the
gods; the ‘aumakua gods were “born,” and from them
man was born [. . .].

When trouble came upon a family for doing wrong

against an ‘aumakua god [. . .] the cause for this trouble
was shown to them by dreams, or visions, or through
other signs sent by the god. It was pointed out to them
what sacrifices to offer, and what gifts to present, to
show their repentance for the wrong committed by the
family. They were to go to the Pohaku o Kane, their
pu‘uhonua, where they were to make offerings to atone
for their wrong doing (mohai hala) and to pacify the
god (mohai ho‘olu‘olu). (Ka Po‘e Kahiko 32)

He also observed
The Pohaku o Kane, the Stone of Kane, was a place of
refuge, a pu‘uhonua, for each family from generation
to generation. It was not a heiau; it was a single stone
monument [. . .] and a kuahu altar with ti and other
greenery planted about. There the family went to obtain
relief. (Ka Po‘e Kahiko 32)

When the high chiefs ended the state religious system in 1819,
places of refuge such as Pōhaku o Kāne gradually ceased to be used
and other forms of seeking reconciliation developed. Today, a
descendant of those early forms of reconciliation is still practiced.
144  Ho‘oponopono

It survives largely through the efforts and determination of Mary

Kawena Pukui, formerly a translator and consultant at the Bernice
Pauahi Bishop Museum.
When interviewed by the museum nearly fifty years ago, Pukui
spoke of a way in which Hawaiians were able, on a course to healing,
to “set to right first” mental problems. The interview was tape-
recorded and transcribed. Pukui called this way of mental cleansing
ho‘oponopono.
She noted in the interview, “Today, the ho‘oponopono remains
only a fond memory since the death of my mother in 1942. [. . .]
The ho‘oponopono is rare today and is regarded as a silly remnant
of heathenism by most people and squelched at every turn”
(Ho‘oponopono, audiotape). Pukui was afraid that this way of life
would soon be forgotten.
From the mid 1960s through the early 1970s, Pukui had the
opportunity to ensure that this part of Hawaiian culture would not
die. She collaborated with mental health professionals and social
workers at the Queen Lili‘uokalani Children’s Center to codify
the cultural practice in systematic terms that could be understood
and learned by modern professionals and families. She wanted

Mary Kawena Pukui in a photograph by Fritz Henle

 No Nā Mamo  145

to ensure that Hawaiian families would once again be able to use

ho‘oponopono.

A Hawaiian Way of Healing

What is ho‘oponopono? Why is it so special and important?
Pukui described it in these words.
My people believed that the taking of medicine was of
little help without first removing any and all mental
obstructions. [. . .] When a problem arose in the
family affecting an individual or the group as a whole,
every member of the immediate family turned to the
ho‘oponopono. [. . .] Every one of us searched our
hearts for any hard feelings of one against the other and
did some thorough mental housecleaning. We forgave
and were forgiven, thrashing out every grudge, peeve
or sentiment among us. In this way, we became a very
closely bound family unit. (Ho‘oponopono, audiotape)

According to Pukui, only then would the afflicted family

members be ready to be healed. The burden of the problems needed
to be lifted from their minds before their bodies were ready for
medical treatment.
The word ho‘oponopono itself hints at such a process. The root of
the word is pono, which has a multitude of meanings. In the Andrews
dictionary, compiled throughout the middle of the nineteenth
century, pono is defined as “to be good, to be just, to be morally
upright,” and, directly relevant to its use in ho‘oponopono, “to be
well, i. e., in bodily health” (490). The scholar Davida Malo indicated
that pono was the absolute model of good behavior and values in
traditional Hawaiian society. All persons, including chiefs, strived to
be pono.
There were also many thoughts considered to be pono
maoli [truly pono], but misfortune could quickly come
about. It was pono when one’s eyes saw something and
one’s heart desired it, but one was ho‘omanawanui [patient]
and did not go to take it, but quickly left forgetting about it
without even touching it. This was pono.
146  Ho‘oponopono

Furthermore, it was not considered correct behavior to

grab things, to lie, to flock into a person’s doorway, to
look longingly at something, or to beg for someone’s
things. This was pono.

There were several other things considered to be pono:

being well supplied, not being shiftless, not exposing
oneself to others, not being irresponsible, and not eating
someone else’s food. This was pono.

Furthermore it was pono for a husband and wife to live

together, to have children, friends [. . .]

These things were considered pono: not to over indulge

in pleasure and fun [. . .]

These were things a person could do to greatly improve

(pono) the quality of life (ka noho ‘ana ma keia ola ‘ana).
Great was the pono of these things. (187–188)

When a word in Hawaiian is repeated, as the word pono is

in ho‘oponopono it is done to give emphasis and underscore its
importance. The prefix ho‘o– is a causative, adding the sense of “to
do something” or “to make something happen.” Hence, the term
ho‘oponopono is “to make very pono.”
A year before being interviewed, Pukui had worked on the
publication of a modern Hawaiian-English dictionary. In this 1957
publication, ho‘oponopono is described as “Mental cleansing: the
old Hawaiian method of clearing the mind of a sick person by family
discussion, examination, and prayer” (Pukui and Elbert 1957: 314).
Following Pukui’s work on the publication Nānā I Ke Kumu with
the Culture Committee at Queen Lili‘uokalani Children’s Center,
the 1986 revised Hawaiian Dictionary described ho‘oponopono as
“Mental cleansing: family conferences in which relationships were
set right [. . .] through prayer, discussion, confession, repentance,
and mutual restitution and forgiveness [. . .]” (1986: 341). Pukui had
pointed out that ho‘oponopono is directly related to healing and
good health. An understanding of traditional wellness and healing
is critical to give clarity to this cultural concept and the process of
ho‘oponopono.
 No Nā Mamo  147

We know that traditional Hawaiian ideas about being sick are

complex and not easily correlated with Western concepts of illness.
In Hawaiian terms, being ill is more than being injured or affected by
a physical ailment or disease. People believed that sickness could be
inflicted by spirits or by the breaking of a kapu. These types of sicknesses
were made known through painful physical and mental forms or even
through conflicts between individuals, families, and groups.
The treatment, or healing, of these types of sicknesses is very
complicated and requires great skill and flexibility. Diagnosis
involves the consultation of the healer with the sick person, his or
her family, and even the extended family or community. In many
situations the healer is also a relative of the ill person.
A traditional healer uses his or her skills in observation and
dialogue to gain an understanding of the family’s or group’s insights in
order to determine the degree and type of sickness and the approaches
to be used for healing. Without such a collaborative diagnosis, it
would be extremely difficult to pinpoint the type of illness and to allay
any doubts or fears on the part of the ill person. These consultative
diagnoses serve to improve the chances of healing. This approach is not
only holistic, it also targets the root causes for sickness instead of just
its symptoms or manifestations, such as being tired or having a cold.
[The] key element to this process is the often and lengthy
consultations with the patient, his or her family and
extended family, where “a sick person is not treated as an
isolate, but rather (he or she) is considered in the context
of family relationships.” It is during these sessions that
people are encouraged to air any grievances which might
be causing tension within the family, problems concerning
illnesses, and other difficulties encountered so that the
appropriate treatment may be revealed. (Chun, Ola 2)

The airing out of the patient’s and the family’s mistakes and
transgression mirrors what a student learning to be a traditional healer
must do. He or she must forgive him or herself of previous wrongs
before entering into the priesthood to the forgiveness (reconciliation)
of others. But we find that it was the kahuna ‘anā‘anā kuni, a class of
priest not usually thought of today as being associated with healing,
148  Ho‘oponopono

who were responsible to forgive (kalahala) the trespasses of other

people. Kamakau points out that kalahala, a term that Hawaiian
Christianity associates with “forgiveness,” was “one of his duties.”
[. . .] One of his duties as a kahuna ‘ana‘ana in his
practice of kuni (iloko o kana ‘oihana kuni) was to
kalahala—remove the grounds for offense within the
victim, and so remove (wehe) the affliction (make) sent
by another. (Ka Po‘e Kahiko 122)

This lesser known aspect of traditional healing practices is

corroborated by Kamakau’s contemporary Zepherin Kahōāli‘i
Kepelino in a brief article entitled “Te Tala.” Although the translators
of this article rendered it as “counter-sorcery,” te tala literally means “to
untie,” and hence, in the case of ho‘oponopono, to forgive. Inserting it
into the translation gives us support to Kamakau’s statement.
Forgiveness (te Tala) is something associated with all
the priests involved with sorcery. The skilled guardian of
sorcery was able to counter (te tana ‘ana) the sorcery of
another. This was the true priest and one who was not
able to do so was unskilled (holona).

There were two important things in sorcery: causing

death (‘o te tala mate) and restoring health (‘o te tala
ola). [. . .] This is what is first done: he first examines
(ho‘otolotolo) himself, to see what errors and deeds he
has done wrong against the person who wants to harm
him. (Author’s translation from Kirtley and Mo‘okini 59)

The implication of this information for this discussion of

ho‘oponopono is that we see its possible development as a family
practice from a merger of two forms of traditional healing. It is
possible that this merger took place after the original two practices
had decreased due to modernization and the spread of Christianity.
The radical changes to Hawaiian society and culture that may
have led to the development and evolution of ho‘oponopono have
also led to its near demise. The findings of the Culture Committee
at Queen Lili‘uokalani Children’s Center indicated that common
understandings of ho‘oponopono were greatly lacking.
 No Nā Mamo  149

Many Hawaiians came to believe their time honored

method of family therapy was “a stupid, heathen thing.”
Some practiced ho‘oponopono secretly. As time went
on, Hawaiians remembered, not ho‘oponopono but
only bits and pieces of it. Or grafted-on innovations.
Or mutations. Or complete distortions of concept,
procedure and vocabulary.

In the past five years, Center staff members have

compiled an almost unbelievable list of incomplete or
distorted explanations of what ho‘oponopono is. Most—but
not all—come from clients. (Pukui, Haertig, and Lee 69)

In order to dispel these mistaken beliefs and to gain a better

knowledge of ho‘oponopono, it is important that one understands
historical and traditional Hawaiian roots of the healing and
peacemaking processes.
Traditional Accounts of the Process of Healing and
Peacemaking
The process of consulting and counseling was used by the early
Hawaiians for healing of the greater community, especially during
times of crisis. This form of peacemaking had no particular name,
but its similarities to ho‘oponopono are remarkable. With a better
understanding of the process of ho‘oponopono, we are now able to
revisit known historical events where the elements can be observed
in action. There are several significant occurrences that have been
recorded and that provide a powerful image of the effectiveness of
this process.
Through interviews with living informants recorded by
Kamakau, the earliest account recalls a battle between Alapa‘i, the
paramount chief of Hawai‘i, and the chiefs of O‘ahu allied with
Peleiōhōlani of Kaua‘i. The battle was to take place on the beach of
NāoneaLa‘a in Kāne‘ohe on the island of O‘ahu.
Now there was a certain wise counselor named Na-‘ili,
brother to Ka-maka‘i-moku the mother of Ka-lani-‘opu‘u
and Keoua, who was the chief in charge of Wai‘anae. [. . .]
Said Na-‘ili to Pele-io-holani, “It would be best for you to
150  Ho‘oponopono

put an end to this war and you two become acquainted with
Alapa‘i,” and he continued, “You can stop this war if you
will, for the chiefs of Maui and Hawaii are related to you
and that not distantly, for they are your own cousins.” “Is
Alapa‘i related to me?” asked Pele-io-holani. “You are a god,
and on one side you are related,” answered Na-‘ili. So Pele-
io-holani consented to a meeting with Alapa‘i.

At this time the fighting was going on at Kaulekola in

Kane‘ohe, and Na-‘ili went down to stop the fighting.
Approaching Ka-lani-‘opu‘u and Keoua he kissed their
hands and asked, “Where is your uncle?” Ka-lani-‘opu‘u
said, “Alapa‘i? He is at the seacoast at Waihaukalua.”
“Then stop the fighting and let us go down to the
seacoast.” The two consented and went down with
Na-‘ili to the coast with the chiefs and fighting men of
Hawaii, and those of Oahu and Kauai also retired. There
Na-‘ili met Alapa‘i, and the two wailed over each other
affectionately. “What brings you here?” said Alapa‘i.
“I have come to stay the battle while you go to meet
Pele-io-holani.” “Does he consent?” “Yes,” answered
Na-‘ili. So Alapa‘i agreed to stay the battle and go to
meet Pele-io-holani. Then Na-‘ili laid down the terms
of the conference. They were to meet at Naoneala‘a. The
Hawaiian forces were to remain in their canoes; not one
was to land on pain of death except Alapa‘i himself, and
he was to land without weapon in his hand; likewise in
the forces of Kauai and Oahu, if even a single chief bore
arms, he was to die.

The beach of NāoneaLa‘a, Kāne‘ohe, O‘ahu

 No Nā Mamo  151

It was the custom, when blood relatives went to war

with each other and both sides suffered reverses, for
some expert in genealogies to suggest a conference to
end the war; then a meeting of both sides would take
place. So it was that Pele-io-holani and Alapa‘i met at
Naoneala‘a in Kane‘ohe, Ko‘olaupoko, on Ka‘elo 13,
1737, corresponding to our January. The two hosts
met, splendidly dressed in cloaks of bird feathers and
in helmet-shaped head coverings beautifully decorated
with feathers of birds. Red feather cloaks were to be seen
on all sides. Both chiefs were attired in a way to inspire
admiration and awe, and the day was one of rejoicing
for the end of a dreadful conflict. [. . .] Between the two
chiefs stood the counselor Na-‘ili, who first addressed
Pele-io-holani saying, “When you and Alapa‘i meet, if he
embraces and kisses you let Alapa‘i put his arms below
yours, lest he gain the victory over you.” [. . .] Alapa‘i
declared an end of war, with all things as they were
before, the chiefs of Maui and Molokai to be at peace
with those of Oahu and Kauai, so also those of Hawaii.
Thus ended the meeting of Pele-io-holani with Alapa‘i.
(Ruling Chiefs 71–72)

However, within a year the two sides were at odds again.

Kamakau describes Alapa‘i’s reaction: “I thought that this was a
family quarrel, but it seems to be a real war of rebellion!” (Ruling
Chiefs 74). However, Kamakau noted, “[t]he two ruling chiefs met
there again, face to face, to end the war and become friends again,
so great had been the slaughter on both sides. . . Perhaps the reason
for this friendliness on the part of the two chiefs was the close
relationship that existed between them” (Ruling Chiefs 74).
What can we learn from the above description that helps to identify
the process of mending a broken relationship? How does it work?
It takes a wise counselor who knows or is familiar with all
parties involved [a genealogist] to go beyond blind rivalries
and emotions.
It takes the willingness and consent of all parties to stop the
fighting and agree to meet.
152  Ho‘oponopono

A conference is called. Ground rules and the meeting site are

established and agreed upon by the participants.
All involved are eyewitnesses to the outcomes.
The peace returns the situation to what it was before the
conflict began.

Kamakau’s description of the second outbreak of fighting

illustrates that such agreements were not always kept, perhaps
because there were deeper causes that remained unaddressed.
However, once again the process of meeting was used to bring the
parties to peace.
The next event illustrates early forms of ho‘oponopono that took
place on the island of Maui when the chiefs of Hawai‘i set out to
conquer Kahekili, the paramount chief of Maui. It was known as the
battle of Kakanilua.
Having established a massive fleet of canoes offshore on the
leeward coast of the island, the first wave of eight hundred warriors
attacked on the shoreline dressed with feather capes that reflected the
colors of the rainbow: red, yellow, and dark green-blue. They moved
across the plains and towards the sand dune hills. Their helmets
stood out like the crescent moon, but when they reached the sand
dunes, they were caught in an ambush like fish that had entered the
gates of a fishpond. They were immediately surrounded by a fine-
meshed net made up of the defending Maui warriors. These forces
had swarmed behind the sand dunes cutting off the invading force
from the rear. They were routed and the dead were piled up like tree
branches or fish caught up in a net. It was said that only two of the
eight hundred warriors escaped.
While this was occurring, the chief of the invading warriors,
Kalani‘ōpu‘u, remained offshore on a canoe where he boasted and
bragged of how his warriors must have reached their goal. He was
shocked by the incredible news that the two surviving warriors brought
to him.
A war council was held with the remaining warriors and war
chiefs to prepare for the next day’s battle. The second wave of
invaders was caught in a trap. It was reported that the spears rained
down upon the warriors like thick waves that pound the shoreline
 No Nā Mamo  153

at high tide. The dead were picked up like grasshoppers to be burnt

in huge piles. It was at that moment Kalani‘ōpu‘u sought a means to
stop the killing.
When Ka-lani-‘opu‘u saw that the forces of Hawaii were
surrounded by Ka-hekili’s men he said to Ka-lola his
chiefess, “Oh Hono-ka-wailani! we shall all be killed.
Do go up to your brother Ka-hekili to sue for peace.”
Ka-lola answered, “It will not do any good for me to go,
for we came to deal death. If we had come offering love
we should have been received with affection. I can do
nothing. Our only hope lies in Ka-lani-kau-i-ke-aouli
Kiwala‘o.” “Perhaps Ka-hekili will kill my child,” said
Ka-lani-‘opu‘u. “Ka-hekili will not kill him. We will
send Ka-hekili’s half brothers with him, Ka-me‘e-ia-
moku and Ka-manawa.” So Kiwala‘o was dressed in the
garments of a chief and attended by Ka-me‘e-ia-moku
bearing the spittoon and Ka-manawa carrying the kahili.
(Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 88)

The young boy, who appeared as if he were covered by a rainbow,

walked into the midst of the battlefield. Warriors on both sides lay
down on the ground because Kīwala‘ō’s rank demanded such respect.
Kamakau commented, “The soldiers of Maui wished to ignore the
tabu, regretting the cessation of the fighting, but Kiwala‘o continued
on to Wailuku” (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 88). When they reached the
Maui chief Kahekili, they saw that he was surrounded not by warriors
but by old men and women and children.
When the twins and Kiwala‘o saw the multitude they
said, “We imagined that he was in the midst of a school
of fish, but it is only red sea moss.” When, at the arrival
of Kiwala‘o, Ka-hekili heard the words, “Here is your
child,” he turned his face upward [as a sign of a favorable
reception]. Kiwala‘o entered and sat on his chest; and
they kissed each other and wailed. Afterward the twins
crawled forward and kissed the hands of Ka-hekili.
Kiwala‘o, being tabu, could not be addressed directly.
Ka-hekili accordingly asked them, “Why do you bring the
chief here? If you are in trouble you should have come up
154  Ho‘oponopono

here yourselves, lest without my knowledge your chief be

killed.” The twins answered, “We do not believe that the
chief will be killed. It is we who would have been killed
had we left the chief at the shore. The chief has been sent
to ask for life. Grant us our lives. If the chief dies, we
two will die with him (moe-pu‘u). So our royal brother
commanded.” Ka-hekili replied, “There is no death to
be dealt out here. Let live! Let the battle cease!” and he
asked, “Where is your sister [referring to Ka-lola]?” “At
the shore, at Kihepuko‘a, and it was she who sent us to the
chief,” answered Ka-manawa. Then Ka-hekili said to his
followers, “Take the fish of Kanaha and Mau‘oni and the
vegetable food of Nawaieha down to Kiheipuko‘a.” So the
two chiefs became reconciled [. . .].” (Kamakau, Ruling
Chiefs 88–89)

John Papa ‘Ī‘ī, wrote about the same event with a slight difference.
Kalola, the mother of Kiwalao, was there with her
brother Kahekili; and while they were conversing
with Oulu a voice proclaiming the kapu moe, or
prostrating kapu, was heard. “The chief Kiwalao must
be approaching,” said Kahekili. “Remove my head
covering (a wig) quickly.” Then Kahekili saw that
Keawe a Heulu was in front with the kapu stick and
that behind Kiwalao were Kahekili’s younger cousins,
Kamanawa and Kameeiamoku, one with a feather cape
and kahili, and the other with the spittoon and mat, so
he said to his sister, “Wait before you remove my wig,
for it is a retainer who comes first. When our ‘young
one,’ Kiwalao, comes up, that will be the proper time to
remove it.”

[. . .] Then Kiwalao met Kahekili, and an order was given

to stop the fighting.” (11)

Once again, there are some key characteristics present that

should be noted.
Someone is looked to as a bridge or mediator with the other
side.
 No Nā Mamo  155

Knowledge of relationships, status, rank, symbols, and a

person’s behavior and mannerisms are extremely important
tools.
Knowing what to say and how to say it are critical for mutual
understanding.
The bonds of relationship are primary.
Generosity is a key outcome when relationships are mended.

‘Ī‘ī also describes an interesting familial event that occurred

when Kamehameha was a young man. Today the basis for this family
quarrel may seem archaic and incongruous with modern morals and
values, but in the context of Hawaiian traditional culture, it reveals a
deep understanding of Hawaiian thought and behavior.
Because his [Kamehameha’s] physique was perfect and
his features well formed and admirable, the women
took a great fancy to him, as they did also to his younger
brother Kalaimamahu. They were the handsomest men
of those days, and the chiefesses gave them many gifts.
Thus beautiful physiques and handsome features earned
them a livelihood. This led to trouble with their uncle
Kalaniopuu, for they were taken by Kaneikapolei, wife
of Kalaniopuu. This happened twice, the first time with
Kalaimamahu and the second time with Kamehameha.
It was probably in this way that Kaoleioku was
conceived. Their uncle was “peeved” and would not
allow his nephews to see his face. Keawemauhili, who
stepped in as mediator, told his half brother Kalaniopuu
to stop resenting his nephews because everyone knew
that a woman was like an easily opened calabash, or
a container with a removable lid. Upon these words,
Kalaniopuu’s anger ceased, and he sent for his nephews
to come and see him. (7)

There are a few elements of note in this event.

The intervention of a relative as a mediator when some

obvious problem has caused a disruption in family life is
useful.
156  Ho‘oponopono

Well chosen words are used to cause a reconsideration of the

problem.
There is an immediate end to hostility and a call to gather to
restore or mend the broken relationship.

The following event occurred during the reign of Kamehameha

III when he was still a youth and under the guardianship of his
cousins and relatives. As a sacred chief and king, his older relatives
sought influence over him to further their own personal and political
ambitions. The resulting conflict first took place in ‘Ewa on the island
of O‘ahu and quickly spread to Honolulu. An attempt was made to
hold a council in which the two sides could air their differences.
A few days later a council of chiefs was held at the
stone house at Pohukaina where were gathered chiefs,
commoners, and foreigners to discuss financial
matters. Three chiefesses spoke for the chiefs, Ke-
ahi-kuni Ke-kau-‘onohi, Ka-ho‘ano-ku Kina‘u, Kuini
Liliha. Ke-kau-‘onohi opened with the words which
appear so often in newspapers today and which I then
heard for the first time— “Hawaii of Keawe, Maui
of Kama-lala-walu, Oahu of Kakuhihewa, Kauai of
Manokalanipo.” She spoke of the goodness of God,
of guarding what was good and forsaking what was
evil, of not worshipping other gods; Jehovah alone
was the one true God. Kina‘u spoke in the same way.
Then Liliha spoke to the people: “Chiefs and people
of my chief, hear me. The stink of my name and
that of my husband Boki has spread from Hawaii to
Kauai. It is said that we do evil and that we have led
the young king to do evil, and so he has been taken
away from me. But we are not guilty; it is the white
people and the naval officers who are guilty; it is they
who tempted the king, and the blame has been put
upon me. But I admit I have done wrong.” At these
words both natives and foreigners shed tears. Then
Ka-heihei-malie, who had been sitting on the stairway
during the council, rose and spoke about the goodness
of God and urged the people to listen to the words
 No Nā Mamo  157

of Ka‘ahu-manu and Kau-i-ke-aouli and of Nahi-

‘ena‘ena. Then she added, drawing a figure from the
communal method of fishing for sword fish, “In the
time of Kamehameha the fisherman swam together in
a row, and if one got out of line or lagged behind he
was struck by the sharp nose of the fish. So those who
do not follow God’s word and do not obey our king,
but fall out of line, they shall be struck by the sharp
sword of the law, so do not lag behind lest you be
hurt.” As these words fell upon the ears of the people,
they applied them to Liliha and raised an uproar
and talked of war against Ka-‘ahu-manu and the
chiefs. When the chiefesses had gone back to Maui,
preparations were actually made for the war which
was called the Pahikaua [. . .]” (Kamakau, Ruling
Chiefs 300–301)

During an interview I had with Stephen Boggs, we talked about

our work in analyzing the events of the Pahikaua war. We both
agreed that Liliha’s speech, wherein she had admitted that she had
been wrong, was the pivotal point of this meeting. Then he asked
what the Hawaiian meaning for the word mihi was. In my answer
I wanted to make a distinction between the Hawaiian and Māori
usages, and to distinguish any post-missionary influences. I said that
mihi is the recognition that one has done something wrong. It is
more like a confession of guilt than an apology. It is the recognition
by someone that he or she has been the cause of that situation, and
for some it might be the first time they have come to that realization.
That is why a haku ‘head of family’ works so hard to bring about a
mihi, which is a pivotal point in the process of ho‘oponopono.
What more can we discover about the tools and methods of this
process?
Be careful, that is, be full of care, in choosing one’s words and
in how those words are spoken.
Listen attentively to what others have to say and be extremely
careful to hear what another shares.
Receive genuine words of regret, confession, or guilt with
understanding and love.
158  Ho‘oponopono

Dropping one’s personal agenda or wants can bring everyone

back together.
This process can easily fail if everyone is not totally
committed to a successful outcome.

There are several common elements in the events described

above that highlight tools people were able to use to resolve conflicts.

One of the most important, yet least obvious, skills is to

recognize that something is wrong; that is, a person or
persons are upset or hurt and are in need of healing. This
recognition is based upon having a common understanding
and knowledge of the other person(s) and good intuition.
The need becomes recognizable because the relationship
between persons is strained and not the same as it was
previously. What is desired is the return to that previous
positive relationship.
There is a proverb that says, “In the word there is life and in
the word there is death.” In a cultural context, it stresses how
important it is that one’s word is “good,” or what is said is
meant. Thus one needs to be very careful of what one says
and how one says it. Many times that means having some
knowledge about the person or people gathered. One has to
think and reflect about the best way in which to say what one
wants people to hear.
Listening is crucial to the process. Listening is not an easy
task, especially if one does not agree with what is being
said, or does not understand and wants to ask a question.
Listening means paying attention to what the other person
is saying, and waiting until that person is finished speaking
before asking questions or thinking about a response.
It is important to review, understand, and accept the things
that are common and shared between everyone gathered,
and to recognize how important it is to maintain positive
relationships.
As much as the above are important tools, they must be guided
by a deep emotional understanding based on trust, sincerity,
 No Nā Mamo  159

and honesty. Without these guiding principles no amount of

discussion and listening will ever lead to any understanding or
healing. It will all be hidden by miscommunication and lies,
adding to the causes of the trouble.
A useful way of disarming the quarreling parties is by getting
away from the scene of the problem and using a third party
to avoid direct conflict; provide leadership, guidance and
direction; and allow each side to say all that they have to say
and to listen to all that is said.
It is important to establish the appropriate ground rules to
ensure that there is a feeling of trust, safety, and care.
All those involved must commit to the process, agree to the
ground rules, and want an outcome that would restore the
broken relationships and provide healing.

However, it must be understood that this process was not, and

is not, used for the resolution of violence and abusive behavior. In
traditional times during the kingdom, and still today, acts such as
murder, abuse, robbery, and other violent crimes were handled by
the chiefs, and later, the courts under the law. The Reverend William
Ellis reported during his brief stay in the islands that
[i]n cases of assault or murder, except when committed
by their own chief, the family and friends of the injured
party are, by common consent, justified in retaliating.
When they are too weak to attack the offender, they seek
the aid of their neighbours, appeal to the chief of the
district, or the king [. . .]. (306)

Ho‘oponopono could be used thereafter as a process for the

transition to incarceration or to address the victims and their
families. Again, we return to the primary purpose of ho‘oponopono,
which is the restoring of relationships; it is not about who is right or
who is wrong.

The Process of Setting Things to Right

Ho‘oponopono as a process for setting things to right, largely
credited to Mary Kawena Pukui, is not a modern concept. The
160  Ho‘oponopono

historical overview demonstrates that this cultural practice was being

used during pre- and post-contact periods. This practice appears to
have been continuously used and refined by Hawaiians in family,
community, and religious (now mostly Christian) life.
In the historical overview, we have seen the use of a mediator
to work with conflicting parties, particularly in the second account
of the Pahikaua War. The story illustrated how the words of each
person, spoken without thought, led to the outburst of emotions that
became the root of the problem. When these accounts are compared
with the description of ho‘oponopono as practiced by the ‘ohana
‘family’ of Mary Kawena Pukui in Ka‘ū on the island of Hawai‘i, we
can see how certain related practices and processes emerged. There
is even evidence of retaining the pre-missionary period practices
of including the ‘aumakua, as seen in the accounts of the Pōhaku a
Kāne.
When a problem arose in the family affecting an
individual or the group as a whole, every member of
the immediate family turned to the ho‘oponopono.
The problem might be lack of employment, physical
illness, ill luck or whatever. If it was an illness, the
ailing person was asked whether he had a feeling
of resentment against anyone, or had committed a
deed that he should not have. If he had, he confessed
and explained. Then he was asked whether he was
convinced that it was wrong and, if he did, a prayer was
offered asking forgiveness of God or gods. The person
against whom the feeling of resentment was directed
was asked to forgive him, also. If he, in turn, bore an
ill will and had thought or spoken evil against him, he
must ask to be pardoned. First the patient confessed
and was forgiven, then he in turn forgave the trespasses
of the others against him. A mutual feeling of affection
and willingness to cooperate had to exist in the family
and the household before anything further could be
done. So it was between the family and the ‘aumakua,
all obstructions had to be removed. The current of
affection and cooperation had to flow freely between
the ‘aumakua and the family also.
 No Nā Mamo  161

The process of ho‘oponopono sometimes took from

one to several hours depending on the natures of the
individual, whether quick to anger and to curse, or the
reverse.

If the process would be lengthy it would be broken up in

shorter sessions with periods of rest between so as not to
exhaust the patient. [. . .] One did a lot of self-examining
during a ho‘oponopono whether one was the patient or
not. (Pukui, Ho‘oponopono, audiotape)

The codification, that is, the detailed description and explanation,

of this process with the publication of Nānā I Ke Kumu in 1972,
led to wider recognition and use of ho‘oponopono. Its revival from
that time until the present has seen an evolution of the process
towards a social work, group therapy, or psychological orientation
and away from what appears to be its original intent as a step in
the process of traditional healing. This shift away from its historical
roots was reinforced with state legislation in 1965 that eliminated
the recognition of Native Hawaiian healing and contributed to the
demise of the knowledge and skills of traditional healing.
Current practice has seen the role of mediator, facilitator, or
haku fall upon religious leaders and trained professionals such
as social workers and lawyers. More recently, a wide range of
interested persons have attended training workshops or classes on
ho‘oponopono. Pukui noted that “most ho‘oponopono did not go
beyond the door of our house [. . .] (b)ut with some [other families]
a kahuna from outside handled the ho‘oponopono” (Ho‘oponopono,
audiotape). Recently, there have even been suggestions that
practitioners of ho‘oponopono should be licensed as are other
health-related professionals, although this would be contrary to
Pukui’s desire that ho‘oponopono be retained as a cultural family
practice rather than as a professional activity.
In her interview, Pukui spoke of certain terms being used that
described “periods of time” during the process. These included “ku
i ka mihi, or repentances; ku i ka pule, [which] set a special period
of time for prayers; kukulu kumuhana, or present the problem to
God; and ho‘omalu (a sheltering) with no loud boisterous talking,
162  Ho‘oponopono

arguments, or going to places of pleasure until the kahuna saw fit to

lift the probationary periods” (Ho‘oponopono, audiotape).
These terms became descriptive of the stages of the
ho‘oponopono process as it developed into a “clinical” model. The
descriptions of these developmental stages proved to be especially
helpful to those unfamiliar with Hawaiian traditional cultural
practices. The descriptions of these terms were further defined
through the discussions of the Culture Committee at the Queen
Lili‘uokalani Children’s Center and published in 1972 in Nana I Ke
Kumu, Volume I.
hihia—entangled or entanglement; snarl or snarled;
enmeshed (71)

kūkulu kumuhana—the pooling of strengths, emotional,

psychological and spiritual, for a shared purpose.
Group dynamics characterized by spiritual elements
and directed to a positive goal. A unified, unifying
force. In broad context, a group, national, or worldwide
spiritual force, constructive and helpful in nature. In
ho‘oponopono, the uniting of family members in a
spiritual force to help an ill or troubled member.

Secondary meaning: statement of problem and

procedures for seeking a solution, as in opening
explanation of ho‘oponopono. (78)

mahiki—to peel off; to pry; as to peel the bark of a tree to

judge the wood beneath; to scrape at the skin to remove
a tiny insect burrowed beneath the epidermis. Also, to
cast out, as of a spirit. (75)

ho‘omalu—to shelter, protect, make peace, keep quiet,

control, suspend. A period of peace and quiet. Silent
period. (77)

mihi—repentance, confession, apology; to repent,

confess, apologize. (73)

kala—to release, untie, unbind, let go. (74)

(Pukui, Haertig, and Lee I: 71–78)

 No Nā Mamo  163

Each term, then, became linked to a stage in the ho‘oponopono

process. Depending upon the progression and development
encountered at each stage, the process could either move on or
become circular, being repeated as many times as needed. Some have
compared this circular movement to peeling away the layers of an
onion, oftentimes leading to another layer upon other layers.

Cordage: A Cultural Analogy

One cultural analogy to the process of ho‘oponopono is
the making of cordage and the use of that cordage to make an
‘upena, or “fish net.” This is a useful analogy since the terms hihia
(entanglement) and kala (to unbind, untie, to forgive or let go) are
used in ho‘oponopono.
Around the age of seven or eight, I learned how to make fishing
nets using cordage, a bamboo shuttle needle, a small rectangle of
press board for a gauge, and a nail to hold down the net.

The left photo shows how an individual knot is tied and secured, while the right photo shows
how a knot is made with several rows completed.

The making of traditional cordage from plant material involves

extracting the individual strands of fiber and then rolling and
twisting several strands to make up a strong piece of cordage. These
collective strands can then be used to make stronger cordage by
either twisting them together or actually weaving them. I see the
‘ohana in a very similar way: made up from individual fibers but
bound together for strength and purpose.
The making of a fish net is a very simple task with the most
critical skill being the tying of a tight and secure knot—in fact, several
164  Ho‘oponopono

knots—in a straight row. When I first learned this skill, I would

often discover after tying down several rows that one or two knots in
previous rows were loose. One could go back and try to tighten the
knots, but usually that wouldn’t work, as it left the triangular holes
between knots loose and capable of expanding so that a fish or crab
could easily escape.
Unfortunately, the solution to this problem was undoing all the
knots, working back to the one or two knots that were loose, then
re-doing all that work. Making such mistakes taught me some very
valuable lessons:
I needed to be very careful about the work that I did, making
sure that each knot was tight and secure.
I needed to be patient.
There was no sense in getting angry since mistakes do
happen, even if you are being careful.

The photo on the left shows tight knots and perfect holes in the beginning stages of a net, while
the photo on the right shows a mistake where the knot is not tied correctly.

These lessons also apply to the process of ho‘oponopono.

We all make mistakes every day of our lives. How do we go about
“untangling” these problems, big or small? Through ho‘oponopono
we are given a chance to undo both minor and major mistakes by
literally going back through events in our lives, back to “knots”
that may have been done “wrong,” or at least not completed in a
desired manner. By correcting those wrongs or mistakes, we can then
proceed towards completing our own “net,” or life itself.
 No Nā Mamo  165

Contemporary Applications
With the revival of, and growing respect for, traditional
Hawaiian cultural practices, interest in utilizing ho‘oponopono in
contemporary situations has increased. Several publications and
graduate student papers have detailed its practice and demonstrated
its application, especially in the mental health field. Family courts
have offered ho‘oponopono as a cultural option for Hawaiian
families in mediating child custody cases and in marital counseling.
The Boggs and Chun article on ho‘oponopono in the aptly titled
Disentangling demonstrated that its continued practice suggests the
continuing vitality of Hawaiian culture and social structure, contrary
to the belief that they had disappeared and were dead. Shook
concluded in her book that “The Hawaiian family certainly deserves
to receive the gifts of its own tradition. Furthermore [. . .] [the]
potential of ho‘oponopono could expand our understanding of the
uses [. . .] and allow for the sharing of this Hawaiian gift” (101).
The recent development of “restorative justice” or “family
conferencing” in Aotearoa (New Zealand) appears to fulfill Shook’s
insight and prediction that, “Further study could also shed light on
the understanding of therapeutic universals” and “could provide
valuable insights into understanding basic principles about assisting
people in establishing harmonious interpersonal and social
relationships” (101–102).
Based upon similar traditional practices of the Māori and
Sāmoan communities in New Zealand, the ideas of restorative justice
are emerging. Briefly, restorative justice is based on a process that is
indigenous, places victims at the center of the justice equation, offers
healing to all involved, and lays responsibility for crime in the hands
of those who commit it (Consedine 161–164).
Family conferencing has adapted the skills and tools of
traditional peacemaking and healing to contemporary life. Family
conferencing is increasingly being used in communities throughout
the United States and Canada to provide a community and family-
based option, particularly for non-violent crimes, as a means to ease
the burden of the courts.
One account of family conferencing was told by the late
Reverend Flora Tuhaka of Aotearoa (New Zealand). An incident
166  Ho‘oponopono

occurred in a small township on a Saturday when a Māori teenager

vandalized the local bus company. The damage was severe enough
that the bus company had to stop its service to the town until the
damages were fixed. When the youth was caught, he was headed for
criminal charges in court. The bus owner intervened and requested
that he would rather have a family conference so that he could speak
to the teenager face-to-face and confront him with the consequences
of his actions. At the meeting the owner told of how much disruption
was done to the lives of people in the town, some who were the
teenager’s friends and relatives. The teenager responded that he
was sorry, never imagining how much damage he had done by just
goofing off because he had nothing better to do during his free time.
Instead of having the offender spend time in a youth facility, the
bus owner asked that the youth spend his Saturdays at the company
cleaning the place and the buses until he had “paid off” the damages.
The idea was that this would provide structure to the teenager’s free
time, teach him how important the bus service is to the people, and
allow him to get to know his own neighbors. The teenager not only
“did his time,” but after he graduated from school, the bus owner
offered him a job at the company because he had performed so well
and the owner had gotten to know him.
There is no moral to this true story, but there are some important
lessons: many mistakes in life can be corrected, good counsel can be
productive in discovering truth, and broken lives and relationships
can be mended instead of dismissed and wasted.
Nearly a half century ago, Pukui shared a vision of the re-
emergence of ho‘oponopono as an important cultural practice to help
Hawaiian families heal and strengthen their bonds. Today these very
skills and tools have immense educational and social implications if
practiced in contemporary life, especially among its youth. Its power
and influence lies in the recognition of our basic humanity and the
need for healing in every moment of our lives.
 No Nā Mamo  167

7 Ho‘omana
Understanding the Sacred and Spiritual

E nihi ka hele mai ho‘opā mai pulale i ka ‘ike

a ka maka o inaina ke akua.
Traditional Hawaiian proverb attributed to Pele
Walk softly along the trail and don’t touch anything, don’t look
in places you shouldn’t or else the god[dess] will be angry.
(Author's translation)

When one hears talk about Hawaiian religion, there should be an

inner voice that says, “This is not the same thing as religion as I know
it today.” Today traditional Hawaiian religion is neither organized
nor institutionalized like many world religions, and what is left of
its temples and places of worship are only the foundation walls and
house sites.
Yet what remains of Hawaiian religion can have great meaning
and importance. Why is this? The Hawaiian scholar Davida Malo tried
to explain in his writings on Hawaiian traditions, Ka Mo‘olelo Hawai‘i,
that what he knew as religion, or ho‘omana, was to be found in almost
all aspects of Hawaiian culture and life. He described the building of
canoes, hunting of birds for feathers, farming, fishing, the conception
and initiation of chiefly children (that is, boys), healing, and even
sorcery and dancing as acts of ho‘omana.
It appears all aspects of Hawaiian culture that required prayer
are linked to ho‘omana. In fact, the term kahuna, which is usually
translated as priest, actually is intended for a person who happens to
be an expert in his or her tasks involving prayer and rituals. Hence,
an architect ‘kahuna kuhikuhi pu‘uone,’ a canoe builder ‘kahuna kālai
wa‘a,’ and a traditional healer ‘kahuna lā‘au lapa‘au’ are all experts who
knew the prayers involved in their work. The prayers were necessary to
begin and complete their tasks.
Although Hawaiian religion no longer involves organized temple
worship, one can see elements of ho‘omana when Hawaiian groups
begin and end their meetings or gatherings with prayer or when
someone is called to bless a house or property. So what is ho‘omana?
168    Ho‘omana

Re-creation of a paehumu, or circle of major gods, at Pu‘uhonua o Hōnaunau, Hawai‘i

Ho‘omana is the word Malo used to describe religious activity

and, sometimes, worship. Malo was one of the earliest Native
Hawaiians to discuss traditional religious practices. He was well
qualified for the task, having been trained, prior to the establishment
of Christianity in the islands, as a genealogist. That training would
make him familiar with much of the lore associated with the gods,
chiefs, culture, and society. When the missionaries were established
in Hawai‘i, Malo became one of their most avid students of history,
which was the closest subject they had to traditional genealogies.
Malo’s writings were not made public until after 1898, so his
descriptions of ho‘omana were not a part of the discussions about
religion in early (post-contact) Hawai‘i. In those discussions, religion
was seen as organized and institutional, that is, conforming to familiar
Christian definitions and judgments, and the discussion was, therefore,
focused on the worship of a particular akua ‘deity’ and on major
religious ceremonies and rituals at the large stone-walled temples.
Ho‘omana comes from the root word mana, which is not an
easy word to translate into modern concepts. A lot of people, in
particular anthropologists, have written whole studies attempting to
 No Nā Mamo  169

do so. In the Pukui and Elbert Hawaiian Dictionary it is described

as a “supernatural or divine [. . .] miraculous power” (1986: 235).
The prefix ho‘o- is a causative that adds the meaning “to do” or “to
make happen” or, in the case of many Hawaiian cultural activities, to
“imbue with.” Thus, literally, ho‘omana means “to cause something
to have mana.”
This explanation makes sense if you are using prayers, because
prayers are meant, when chanted or invoked, to cause something to
happen that you yourself cannot do alone. This use of ho‘omana as
worship or religion may not actually be too far from what is meant
by religion if we go back to the Latin roots of religio ‘linking back to’
as in to rely upon. A prayer may be a message, but it takes an agent
who has heard the prayer to cause something to happen.
Again, Malo pointed out this relationship.
Eia wale no ka (ke) kanaka mau akua e like maka ai, o na
kii laau, a me na kii pohaku i kalai lima ia, ma ka manao
ana o ke kanaka, i hoopii aku ai, i ua mau kii la ma ke ano
maoli o ke akua ma ka lani ana i manao ai i akua nona
iho, ina o ka lani e hana i ke kii a like me ko kalani. (49)

The gods of the people only looked like what they were
seen through the wood and stone images carved by hand
from what the carver thought they looked like as the
shapes of the gods in the heavens. If the god was from
the heavens then the image was created to look like the
heavens. (195)

And,

Alaila, lalau ke kahuna, i ka ai, a kaumaha aku i ka lani,

aole i na kii la, no ka mea, ua manao ia, aia no ma ka lani
ke akua, he mea hoomanao wale no ua kii la, e ku ana,
imua o ke anaina kanaka a pau. (104)

Then, the priest seized the food and offered it up to the

heavens and not to the image, because it was believed
that the god dwelled in the heavens. The image was only
a representation [of the god] as it stood before all those
gathered. (Author’s translation)
170    Ho‘omana

He is saying some important things here that we cannot let

go right away. First, contrary to the popular Christian prejudices,
the wooden and stone images were images, not idols. (There is a
tendency for members of a religion, when set on conversion, to
harshly prejudge another religion rather than try to understand
it.) When one is beholding the golden statue of Buddha, is one
worshipping an idol or is one reminded, by the position and hand
placements of the Buddha, of one’s spiritual journey? Do Christians
worship a cross set on or above an altar, or is the cross merely to
help the worshipper remember and reflect on the suffering and
resurrection of Christ?

Reconstruction of Hale o Lono heiau at Waimea, O‘ahu by archaeologist and cultural

consultant Rudy Mitchell

Second, and more important, he is making the point that it is the

relationship with something greater than yourself that should be the
focus of a prayer or ritual. A wooden or stone image is just a piece
of wood or rock until it is ho‘omana, imbued with mana, or in the
religious-poetic language “when the god dwells ‘noho’ in the object.”
Hence, certain trees, stones, rocks, and places could become sacred
when mana is invoked and the divine intervenes.
 No Nā Mamo  171

The relationship with the divine and the use of prayer as a means
of communication are the first two elements Kamakau said were
essential in “the Hawaiian school of medical kahunas, [. . .] [t]he
foundation of the knowledge and skill [. . .] was the god. [. . .] Second
came prayer.” (Ka Po‘e Kahiko 107).
Kamakau stated that by using both prayer and skill, an able
student could
concentrate on the cliff until it crumbled. He would
concentrate his prayer on a hard rock and it broke up as
if nothing, just as if a roll of powder had been inserted
into the rock and had broken it to fragments. He would
concentrate his prayer upon a grove of trees and the
trees would wither. He would concentrate his prayer
upon a whale and it would be cast up on land. He would
concentrate his prayer upon a shark that had eaten a
man, and the wicked shark, and the man, would land
on shore. The mana of the [. . .] prayers was his, and the
mana was made manifest. (Ka Po‘e Kahiko 121)

Whether or not a student, or even a master kahuna, could

accomplish such a task is not the point. Kamakau’s statement shows
how important prayer can be for an expert to be able to cause mana,
to ho‘omana, in his or her particular task.
Prayers and ceremonial rituals were both personal and
communal, although there were differences for the kanaka ‘ordinary
person’ and the ali‘i ‘chiefs.’ The prayers of the kanaka did not
involve the service of kāhuna or kahu akua ‘guardians of gods,’
whereas the ali‘i were dependent upon the kāhuna, for the ali‘i did
not recite their own prayers. This distinction is clearly brought out
in Malo’s description of the rites concerning sub-incision of boys of
“proper” families and of the high chiefs.
Pela no e hana ia ai na keiki a ka poe haipule, a me ka
poe koikoi, a me ka poe hanohano, a me ka poe kahuna,
a me ka poe alii haahaa, he okoa ka hana ana i na keiki a
ka poe alii, kiekie a o na keiki a kekahi poe, aole no i hana
ia pela, e lawe wale aku no ka lakou mau keiki imua, a e
kahe wale iho no me ka hoomana ole i ke akua. (52)
172    Ho‘omana

That was the way it was done for boys of religious

families, those of rank and prestige of kahuna(s) and
the lesser ali‘i (ali‘i ha‘aha‘a). The procedure for boys of
higher ali‘i (ali‘i ki‘eki‘e) was different from the boys of
others. It was not done in this manner. Their [the others]
boys were only taken to the mua and cut without any
religious rites to the god. (199)

However, not all of traditional Hawaiian society was religious.

Malo tells us that there were people who had no gods and survived
without them: “those who had no god did not worship at all” (273).
These ‘aiā were listed in a prayer for purification as persons whom the
kahuna would seek to dispel or chase away ‘hemu’ (Malo 54, 201–202).
Here Malo is speaking of certain purification rituals where these ‘aiā
were not welcome, but his mention of them as a group also tells us
quite clearly that there were non-religious or irreligious persons in
traditional Hawaiian society. This statement has several implications:
Contrary to popular belief, being Hawaiian did not
necessarily mean you had to be religious or practice religious
rituals.
Traditional Hawaiian society practiced a high level of
tolerance for behavior contrary to that of most of society.
Religious practices and behavior had to be reinforced as
being positive and good, and people had to be constantly
reminded of their responsibilities.

The Kapu System of Prohibitions and Restrictions

The kapu system is another part of Hawaiian religious belief and
practice that has been popularized and misunderstood. The very
word kapu brings to mind for many today certain images related to
what people think of as traditional Hawaiian religion. These may
include stone-walled temples, huge carved wooden images, and
things one is, or is not, supposed to do for fear of divine punishment.
Landowners used to place imposing signs with the word KAPU
across their vacant property.
Although related to the divine, the establishment of the kapu
system did not directly impose any religious belief or ritual. It did
 No Nā Mamo  173

regulate how people worshipped. Today this might be similar to the

idea of the separation of men and women worshipping in a mosque,
or other distinctions that men, more than women, may have with
regard to religious worship and leadership. And like those examples,
the establishment of the kapu system was not divinely inspired but
was imposed by those in power.
The Reverend Ellis, in the early 1820s, was able to learn about
kapu in his travels and noted the following.
It is a distinct word from rahui, to prohibit, as the ohelo
berries at Kirauea were said to be prohibited, being tabu
na Pele, sacred for Pele, and is opposed to the word noa,
which means general or common. (278)

And,
[a]lthough employed for civil as well as sacred purposes,
the tabu was entirely a religious ceremony, and could be
imposed only by the priests. (279)

When I was much younger, the Nu‘uanu Pali tunnels were the
only direct route through the Ko‘olau mountain range between
Honolulu and the windward side of the island. We would go over
for lū‘au ‘traditional feasts’ and come back home at night through
the Pali tunnel. However, as a form of homage to the pig god,
Kamapua‘a, who came from this island, we never carried any form of
pork during those trips. We were afraid that if we did, our car would
stop, and we would be stranded. How could anyone even consider
such an idea, for even in those days it was a multilane highway full of
fast cars. But we, as well as a whole lot of others, did. That is a lāhui.
No priests or official sanctions were needed; it was a popular belief.
Kapu is another matter. It all began with one of the traditions
about Wākea and Papa, an ancestral couple of the Hawaiian people,
not gods but actual human beings in Hawaiian genealogies. This
particular tradition says that Wākea wanted to sleep with his own
daughter, Ho‘ohōkūkalani, but he could not think of a way to do so
without his wife, Papa, knowing.
So upon the advice of his kahuna pule ‘expert in prayers,’
Komoawa (or Komo‘awa), he declared that there would be four
174    Ho‘omana

sacred nights a month. During that time Wākea and Papa would
be separated as husband and wife, and certain foods would be
prohibited ‘kapu’ for women to eat. This separation would give
Wākea the opportunity to go off and to sleep with Ho‘ohokukalani.
Papa agreed. The kahuna pule would wake Wākea in the early
morning before Papa got up. However, in the end, Wākea could not
wake up from his sleep, even when the kahuna pule tried several
times. Malo provides us with Komoawa’s chant.
E ala au aku, e ala au mai, e ala makia, o
makia a hanohano i ke aka, o ke ake kuhea, o
keakekieihikina, Ku kahikinailunakalani, kaopuaulu
nui, kaopuamakolu uakaua, kahe ka wai, mukeha,
Oiliolalapaikalaiponiponihaaikamea, mokapawa, lele ka
hoku, haule kalani moakaka, i ke ao malamalama Ala
mai mai uao [. . .]. (121)

“I awaken [you] there, I awaken [you] here. Concentrate

upon waking up. Catch your breath. Breathe this
morning. The desire to call out and look at the east. [?]
The east appears up in the heavens, the large rain cloud,
the heavy laden clouds rain, water flows, the flashing [of
lightning] appears in the purple heavens humbling one.
[?] The dawn breaks and the stars fly away. The clear
sky falls to the bright light. The person who is the go-
between wakes you up.” (294)

When Wākea finally did wake up in the morning sunlight, he

had to cover himself up with a kapa ‘sheet of bark cloth’ to hide
himself from Papa’s sight as he returned to the mua ‘men’s house’
where he should have been for the religious ceremonies of those
sacred nights. Papa saw him and they quarreled. They were separated,
but the division of foods, houses, and eating remained as kapu.
In a version recorded by Kepelino we find the following.
As the chiefess sat that morning in her own house,
Wakea covered his head with the sleeping-tapa, ran from
Ho‘ohoku-ka-lani and came to Papa.

Papa was puzzled by Wakea’s manner. She ran to meet her

daughter and Ho‘ohoku-ka-lani related all that Wakea had
 No Nā Mamo  175

done that night. The chiefess was very angry and she came
to the house where the sin had been committed. Outside
the house she found Wakea, they quarreled, and Papa
related to Wakea everything that her daughter had told her.
When Wakea heard all the shameful things he had done he
was ashamed and angry, and he beat the chiefess and spat
in her face and their union was broken.
At that time disagreement arose among the chiefs, the manner
of worship was changed, laws were made and proclaimed
throughout all the land. Here are the laws of class I:

1. It is not right for a man to eat with his wife.

2. It is not right for a woman to enter the mua or house of worship.
3. It is not right for women to go to the men’s eating house.
4. It is not right for women to eat bananas except the pupuulu and
the iholena varieties.
5. Women must not eat pork, the yellow coconut, the ulua fish, the
kumu fish, the niuhi shark, the whale, the porpoise, the spotted
sting-ray [hahalua, hihimanu], the kailepo; all these things were
dedicated to God, hence women could not eat them.

Here are the laws of class II:

1. There is to be one house (the noa) for the wife and the husband, etc.
2. There is to be a house (called mua) for the men’s eating house.
3. There is to be a heiau for the images.
4. There are to be a two eating houses, one for the men and another
for the women.
5. There is to be a house (called kua) for tapa beating.
6. There is to be a house (called pea) for the separation of the woman
when she is unclean. (64)

This became the core of what we know of as traditional Hawaiian

social structure:
the separation of women and men in eating, working, and
living;
the desire of the ali‘i to have children through their closest
relatives as a means of ensuring high rank and stature;
176    Ho‘omana

the dominance of men and masculinity in religious activities

(most or all priests are alleged to be male as are the “major”
gods); and
the increased power of the kahuna in charge of religious
activities.

This is illustrated in the relevant lines found in the Hawaiian

creation chant “Kumulipo.”
Papa-seeking-earth
Papa-seeking-heaven
Great-Papa-giving-birth-to-islands
Papa lived with Wakea
Born was the woman Ha‘alolo
Born was the jealousy, anger
Papa was deceived by Wakea
He ordered the sun, the moon
The night of Kane for the younger
The night to Hilo for the first-born
Taboo was the house platform, the place for sitting
Taboo the house where Wakea lived
Taboo was intercourse with the divine parent
Taboo the taro plant [‘ape], the acrid one
Taboo the poisonous ‘akia plant
Taboo the narcotic auhuhu plant
Taboo the medicinal uhaloa [plant]
Taboo the bitter part of the taro leaf [la‘alo]
Taboo the taro stalk that stood by the woman’s taboo house
Haloa was buried [there], a long taro stalk grew
The offspring of Haloa [born] into the day
Came forth (Beckwith 124–125)

The plants mentioned in the Kumulipo are not the same as those
found in Malo and Kepelino. Those mentioned in the Kumulipo
are believed to have chemical properties or bitterness that associate
them with matters of life and death or with communicating with the
spiritual world. They are called “ka ‘ai lani makua” (Beckwith 233), or
“elder chiefly or heavenly foods.”
The kapu system of prohibitions lasted until the third or fourth
of October, 1819, an amazing forty-one years after Captain Cook’s
arrival at Waimea, Kaua‘i, although Barrère suggests it is early
 No Nā Mamo  177

November based upon Kuykendall’s reading of Marin’s journal

(Kamehameha 33). The ali‘i themselves ended this system of privilege,
and ironically, the highest ranking of them at that time was a woman,
Keōpūolani. Kamakau noted, “This was a strange thing for a tabu
chiefess to do, one for whom these tabus were made and who had the
benefit of them” (Ruling Chiefs 224).
There are several theories as to why this system was ended, but
I favor the thought that the female ali‘i, particularly Keōpūolani and
Ka‘ahumanu, who were the wives of Kamehameha, determined that
this was the best way in which to ensure that Kamehameha’s children
and grandchildren would rule the Kingdom. By ending this privilege
system they ended the system that also determined who could rule,
a system that had allowed, and perhaps even encouraged, rebellion
among siblings.
As interesting as those thoughts are, it is what happened after the
overthrow of the kapu system that deals with traditional Hawaiian
religion. It is assumed that the overthrow of the kapu system also
ended traditional religious practices, perhaps because these two
events happened at the same time, or perhaps because the image
of the kapu system as the Hawaiian religion is so strong in the
imagination of non-Hawaiians.
The missionaries, upon their arrival in 1820, just after the end of
the kapu, proclaimed joyously
[t]hey have indeed thrown away their idols as worthless
things, unable to save them, but they have not heard of
Jesus; no Christian has yet said to them, there is a God in
heaven who made them and the world, nor pointed them
to the Saviour, “the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sins
of the world.” (“Return of Prince George to Atooi” 770)

Organized Hawaiian Religion Ends

Very soon the missionaries would discover what had actually
happened as they settled into Hawaiian society.
They [natives who were trading] replied that Reho
reho the king had heard of the great God of white men,
and had spoken of him; and that all the chiefs but one
178    Ho‘omana

had agreed to destroy their idols, because they were

convinced, that they could do no good, since they
could not even save the king. Idol worship is therefore
prohibited and the priesthood entirely abolished.
(“Mission to the Sandwich Islands” 7 April 1821: 725)

This was all confirmed when they were introduced to the kahuna
nui ‘high priest,’ Hewahewa, who had proclaimed the end of the
kapu.
In the course of the day, as we passed near the place where
several chiefs were spending their idle hours in gambling,
we were favoured with an introduction to Havahava, the
late high priest. He received us kindly. On his introduction
to Mr. Brigham, he expressed much satisfaction in
meeting with a brother priest from America, still pleasantly
claiming that distinction for himself. He assures us that
he will be our friend. Who could have expected that such
would have been our first interview with the man, whose
influence we had been accustomed to dread more than any
other in the islands; whom we had regarded, and could
now hardly avoid regarding, as a destroyer of his fellow
men. But he seemed much pleased in speaking of the
demolition of the Moreeahs and idols.
About five months ago [this would place the event in
November, 1819] the young king consulted him with
respect to the expediency of breaking taboo; and asked
him to tell frankly and plainly whether it would be good
or bad; assuring him, at the same time, that he would
be guided by his word. Havahava readily replied, “miti
[maika‘i],” it would be good, adding that he knew there is
but one Akooah [God,] who is in heaven, and that their
wooden Gods could not save them, nor do them any
good. He publicly renounced idolatry, and with his own
hand set fire to th[e] moreeah. The king no more observed
their superstitious taboos. Thus the heads of the civil
and the religious institutions agreed in abolishing that
forbidding but tottering taboo system [. . .]. (“Mission to
the Sandwich Islands” 14 April 1821: 739)
 No Nā Mamo  179

But the missionaries still believed the kapu was all one system,
and so the popular myth began. Kamakau would later show the
differentiation of the kapu, giving three classifications: kapu aupuni
‘kapus of the kingdom,’ kapu ho‘ola‘a ‘kapus of consecration,’ and
kapu li‘ili‘i ‘minor kapus.’ He related that the kapu “applied to
everybody and were set up by Wakea ma” (Ka Po‘e Kahiko 89).
The other lesser kapu (kapu li‘ili‘i) belong, he says, “to those
persons with shark, mano, ‘aumakua and those whom they had
transfigured and whose spirits (haili) had entered into mano bodies
[. . .] to those with mo‘o ‘aumakua [. . .] [and to] those with volcanic
‘aumakua (‘aumakua pele) [. . .]” (Kamakau, Ka Po‘e Kahiko 89).

Nā ‘Aumākua—Guardians of the Family

‘Aumākua are forms of nature—shark ‘manō,’ lizard ‘mo‘o,’
volcano ‘Pele,’ and owl ‘pueo’—that were part of traditional religious
belief, but not necessarily part of the temple or priestly worship. The
ending of temple worship and the consequent destruction of the
temples and images did not necessarily affect or stop the belief in
‘aumākua. It appears, in fact, to be the only native form of religious
belief that survived the ending of the kapu to be encountered by the
missionaries upon their arrival.
From the side of the mountain on your right, as you pass
up the valley, a torrent of water issues, and descends, it
would seem, two or three hundred feet, bounding and
foaming down the almost perpendicular rocks. Here,
the natives say, is the residence of the Akooah Mo-o, or
the Reptile god, which resembles a large shark, devours
men, and lives in the ground and in the water. Many of
the natives have attempted to describe this Akooah, and
they generally exhibit a great degree of earnestness and
credulity respecting it. All the evidence that appears of
the existence of the large reptile, which devours men,
rests upon the testimony of a single man, who escaped,
however, to tell the story.

The principal reptile, which the island affords, is a

small lizard, about six inches in length, inoffensive, but
numerous. It is sometimes called an Akooah, and has
180    Ho‘omana

heretofore been worshipped. (“Extracts from the Journal

of the Missionaries” 13 July 1822: 99)

Several of the missionaries, at various times, ventured up to the

active volcano, Kīlauea, just as tourists do today. When the Rev. Ellis
and party got close to the area, their guide told them of the lāhui, a
prohibition on certain forms of behavior, that needed to be followed
lest the volcano (Pele) erupt in anger.
He [Makoa] objected strongly to our going thither, as we
should most likely be mischievous, and offend Pele or
Nahoaarii, [nā hoa ali‘i] gods of the volcano, by plucking
the ohelo, (sacred berries,) digging up the sand, or
throwing stones into the crater [. . .]. (Ellis 141)

[. . .] the natives requested us not to kaha, a heru ka one

[helu ke one], strike, scratch, or dig the sand, assuring us
it would displease Pele [. . .]. (Ellis 166)

On several occasions the missionaries would encounter the kahu

akua ‘guardians of the god,’ whom they perceived to be a challenge
and opposition.
She [kahu akua of Pele] answered, “He is your good
God, (or best God), and it is right that you should
worship him; but Pele is my deity, and the great goddess
of Hawaii. Kirauea is the place of her abode. Ohiaotelani
(the northern peak of the volcano) is one corner of her
house.” (Ellis 216)

Of the many ‘aumakua forms, the presence of Pele endures as

long as the lava flows from Kīlauea, and being one of the patron
deities associated with the hula, her memory is constant in the
chants and dances. The physical activity of the volcano with its
uncontrollable nature continues to manifest the spirit of the
‘aumakua to more than her descendants. In the late 1980s the
possibility of harnessing geothermal energy brought together
various persons who claimed an ‘aumakua relationship to Pele with
environmentalists to oppose drilling into the volcanic areas. A local
newspaper reported on this cultural-political mix.
 No Nā Mamo  181

Nā ‘aumākua by Joseph Feher from Ka Po‘e Kahiko, The

People of Old by Samuel Manaiakalani Kamakau

Long after many have forgotten other Hawaiian spirits,

Pele remains an active and controversial part of Big Island
life. One native group, the Pele Defense Fund, has gone
to the state Supreme Court, trying to stop geothermal
drilling, which they fear will extinguish the islands creative
force and thus the heart of their Hawaiian religion.
Other Hawaiians say belief in Pele keeps Big Island hearts
afraid. “We are praying to God that through his spirit he
will break through the darkness on this island,” said Rev.
Henry Kahalakili, pastor of Hilo’s Glad Tidings Church.
“I will do everything I can to lead my people out of
bondage, and Pele worship is nothing more than
bondage.” (Hartwell A8)
182    Ho‘omana

For examples of the shark ‘aumakua we need to turn to

Kamakau.
Kaneikokala was a shark famous for his good deeds. If
a canoe was wrecked in the ocean and broken to pieces,
and someone called for Kaneikokala, he would appear
and save them [. . .]. (Ka Po‘e Kahiko 87)

And,
The body of the god was separate from his body as a
shark, but the kokala fish was consecrated to him in
the ancient worship of him by the ancestors. Their
descendants may have heard of Kaneikokala, although
they do not worship him; but to this day, the whole
district of Kahikinui, Maui, with the exception of
malihini, will run away if they see a kokala fish cooking,
or even the smoke from the cooking; and they will eat no
“food” or “fish” that has come in contact with it. If they
ate food, or crossed the smoke, or touched things that
had been in contact with kokala fish, they might die. (Ka
Po‘e Kahiko 87)

Not all the ‘aumākua were benevolent and helpful. Kamakau tells
us that even the kahu ‘guardians’ of Pele were afraid of too many
deceased persons becoming deified, and this forced the kahu to do
things in secret. This was no different he says with the other forms,
especially the sharks.
Some were evil, some were man-eaters, some were as
fierce and untameable as lions, who even devoured their
own kahu who had transfigured and deified them.
[. . .] Others who were worshiped (ho‘omana ‘ia) became
beloved friends if their kanawai were properly obeyed;
they became defenders and guides in times of trouble
and danger [. . .]. (Ka Po‘e Kahiko 76)

Part of the reason this belief system in the ‘aumākua was able
to survive is the fact that it was not part of the temple worship but,
as Ellis discovered, a relationship that was much closer and more
personal.
 No Nā Mamo  183

Respecting family idols, the natives in general suppose

that after the death of any member of a family, the spirit
of the departed hovers about the places of its former
resort, appears to the survivors sometimes in a dream,
and watches over their destinies; hence they worship an
image with which they imagine the spirit is in some way
connected. (197)

Kamakau, when he discusses the ‘aumakua of Pele (volcano),

underscores how important this family connection and the use of
ho‘omana are.
If one of these ‘aumakua is in the family of a person,
they are all in his family [as they are related to each
other]. Through giving birth in human form, one of
them joins a person’s blood to theirs [. . .]; they are all
‘aumakua. The kuleana does not come by consecrating
a spirit to be one’s god (ho‘ola‘a), or by pretending to be
possessed by a god (ho‘onohonoho akua) and feigning
insanity (ho‘opupule) and speaking in whispers, or
bowing down and worshiping them, as some do, or
by calling upon them to come and inspire him as he
wishes. Only through the blood lineage (koko i eweewe
mai) of the ancestors does the kuleana come. (Ka Po‘e
Kahiko 66)

In his discussion of another ‘aumakua form, the owl, Kamakau

emphasizes the difference between the natural object, in this case the
owl, and the owl as a god. As I have earlier explained, it is the task of
“ho‘o-mana” to imbue something with mana—something that did
not have mana before—and through prayers and rites it becomes full
of mana.

The owl itself is a worthless thing; it is eaten by the

people of Kula, Maui, and Na‘alehu in Ka-‘u, Hawaii,
and thrown about on the road. The owl itself is not a
god—it has no mana. The god is separate. Kukauakahi
is the main god (po‘o akua nui) who is consecrated in
the body of the owl and who shows his mana in the
worthless body of the owl. [. . .]
184    Ho‘omana

Is the owl a god? The writer of this history says that the
owl is not a god—it is the form (haili) taken by a god. The
owl is a humble bird among the birds of Hawaii, but it
was consecrated, and was made kapu to certain people,
but the po‘e kahiko knew that the god itself was a different
thing. (Kamakau, Ka Po‘e Kahiko 88)

Long before Kamakau wrote these judgments, Captain Cook, on

his first visit to the island of Niihau, in February 1778, observed the
following, “A particular veneration seemed to be paid here to owls,
which they have very tame [. . .]” (Cook 219) What does he mean by
“tame?” I would consider that the people there had captured the owls
and treated them with special care as we do household pets. It may be
that our cats, dogs, and other dependent animals are the closest things
we have to help us understand this ‘aumākua relationship.
These descriptions of the ‘aumākua tell us certain things.
There is a very real and cherished relationship between
a family and their departed relative or ancestor that is
maintained through an ancestral symbol or form.
In this relationship, the living relatives are obligated not
only to care for their ‘aumakua, but also to keep the kapu
‘prohibitions’ of their ‘aumakua, such as not eating the body
form of that ‘aumakua.
As living relations and ancestors have personal names, so do
the ‘aumākua. They are not generic.
Not all natural forms that the ‘aumākua can take as its shape,
such as sharks or owls, are in fact ‘aumākua. Kamakau is very
clear on this point.
Not all ‘aumākua are helpful guardians of their living relations.
They can actually harm or kill those who invoke them.

These are important cultural elements that seem to be forgotten

today, allowing for a casual re-invention of who and what the
‘aumākua are. This was brought to issue in the early 1990s when there
were several shark attacks in the islands that brought the concept of
‘aumakua to the attention of the general public, particularly when the
reaction was to hunt the killer sharks.
 No Nā Mamo  185

This little known painting by Juliette May Fraser entitled “Haunted Woods”
shows the very small night marchers in the left foreground. The ‘aumākua of
the forest witness the procession of ghostly chiefs and retainers.

Local newspapers reported on a protester who was against the

shark hunt. “[S]tate officials refuse to say whether the shark hunt will
resume over the protests of native Hawaiians who fear that certain
sharks designated as ‘aumakuas, or family guardians, will be killed as
well” (Neil A3).
The controversy was broadened when two respected Hawaiians
responded to the claims of the protester. One of them, Rubellite
Johnson, told the newspapers that “the concept of seeking out and
186    Ho‘omana

killing a shark that has attacked people is fully supported in Hawaiian

tradition. There is a ‘common revulsion’ toward such animals. [. . .]
The purpose of the hunt is vindication. Restitution is implied. It is
reciprocity” (TenBruggencate A4).
The article explained further that,
Sharks were an integral part of life in old Hawaii. They
were hunted for sport. They were revered as family gods
or guardians. They were fished for food, for their tough,
sand papery skins, and for their teeth, which were used
for knives and affixed to weapons. (TenBruggencate A4)

And, Johnson stressed,

“The important point is no matter what the class of
animal or individual animal, the aumakua is the spirit of
the ancestor.”

[. . .] Some modern Hawaiians may know the class

of aumakua with which they are associated, without
knowing details or an individual. [. . .] Because of
intermarriage, many people may have several classes of
aumakua in their family lines.

But once a member of the family no longer actively cares

for an aumakua creature, the relationship changes.

“The remembrance of the name of the aumakua shark

remains through tradition, but the kahu hanai no
longer contacts the shark. After many generations, you
don’t expect that particular shark to still be alive [. . .].”
(TenBruggencate A4)

There are many accounts of shark hunting. (See the chapter on

A‘o for the tradition of how the warrior Kekūhaupi‘o learned to hunt
sharks.) One of the earliest historical accounts was noted by Captain
Nathaniel Portlock on Tuesday, December 5, 1786 as his ship was off
southeast O‘ahu.
Numbers of sharks were about the ship, four or five of
which we caught, and after taking out the livers they were
given to the Indians [Hawaiians], who thought them very
 No Nā Mamo  187

acceptable presents, particularly the old priest, who got

two of the largest, and having ordered them to be carefully
lashed in his canoe, was going to send them on shore. [.
. .] one of the sharks not being securely fastened, fell out
of the canoe, and sunk to the bottom in eleven fathoms
water; at the same time there were several large hungry
ones swimming about, yet an Indian went down with a
rope, slung the dead shark, and afterwards hauled him
into his canoe, without any apparent fear of the others
that surrounded him. I found that sharks were esteemed
valuable, as they answer a variety of purposes; they salt the
shark, and seem very fond of it, the skin serves for a cover
to their drum-heads, and the teeth they fix in wooden
instruments which they use as knives. (159)

Of the eating of sharks, the niuhi shark was prohibited for

women to eat under the kapu imposed by Wākea. This type of shark
was apparently sought after as indicated by the following traditions.
My wife’s grandfather also told me that fishing for niuhi
sharks furnished food for the chiefs, as in ancient times it was
an offense punishable by death for a commoner to secrete
some of it as food for himself. The only persons entitled to
fish for the niuhi were the chiefs’ fishermen. (Desha 13)

Some of the chiefs under Kamehameha, such as Alapa‘i-

malo-iki and Ka-uhi-wawae-ono, were murdering chiefs
who did not keep the law against killing men, but went out
with their men to catch people for shark bait. If they found a
man or even a woman out at night they would kill him and
keep the body until it decayed and use it for shark bait. [. . .]
At Keala and Kalahiki in South Kona, at Hamakuapoko on
Maui, and at Pu‘uloa on Oahu, people were killed by them
for shark bait. (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 232)

Mahope o laila, holo aku la o Kalaepuni me na lawaia a

Keawenuiaumi, ma waho ae o Kalahiki, he kupalupalu
mano ka lakou lawaia. A makaukau na mano a pau loa
malalo o na waa o lakou, huki na lawaia a Keawenuiaumi
i ka mano i luna o na waa, lele iho la o Kalaepuni i waena
o na mano, a pepehi iho la i na mano i laka mai ma ke
188    Ho‘omana

kupalu ana, a lanakila o Kalaepuni maluna o na mano a

pau loa. Alaila, olelo iho o Kalaepuni i kana olelo kaena
penei: “Ma keia hope aku, e hoolilo ana wau i o‘u mau
lima i makau kihele mano! A e hoolilo au i na mano a
pau, i lehu i loko o kuu poho lima.” [. . .].

Kalaepuni went out fishing with some of Keawenuiaumi’s

fishermen to the fishing grounds outside of Kalahiki; they
went out shark fishing. After some of the bait was thrown
out the sharks began to gather under the canoe, when the
baited hooks were let down and several sharks were caught
and hauled into the canoe. While Keawenuiaumi’s men were
hauling the sharks up, Kalaepuni jumped out amongst the
sharks that were gathered under the canoe and began to fight
them, killing them all. After killing all the sharks, Kalaepuni
began boasting, saying: “Henceforth I shall use my hands as
hooks for catching sharks and shall make all sharks as dust in
my hands.” (Fornander V: 200–201)

However, a mere eight years after the protests of the early 1990s,
protests against the killing of sharks for “cultural” reasons were again
reported in the newspapers.
The agency also said it would prepare a report on the
cultural aspects of sharks and shark fishing following
complaints by Native Hawaiians, who say shark finning
is an affront to their beliefs that a shark is an ‘aumakua,
or a personal god. (“Agency to Reassess” A3)

Then another situation over the disposal of a whale carcass

brought a similar charge. A whale was taken out into the ocean for
disposal. The headlines read “Native Hawaiians see the action as a
victory for their spirituality.”
Hawaiian spirituality overcame scientific inquiry
yesterday as a dead dwarf sperm whale was buried at sea
rather than brought back to land to determine the cause
of its death. [. . .]

Finally, the spirituality of the Hawaiian people is

respected. It was very, very encouraging,” Maxwell
 No Nā Mamo  189

[a Hawaiian cultural specialist] said. “It’s a cultural

and spiritual thing over anything else. (Kubota,
“Officials” A6)

A year later another pygmy sperm whale washed ashore on the

south side of the island of Maui at Oneuli Beach and was taken,
probably for health and safety reasons, to the Pu‘unēnē landfill to
be dumped. A Hawaiian cultural specialist on the island said that
“he [was] upset about the way” in which the whale was disposed
of “without the benefit of a cultural blessing” as it “is part of the
spiritual essence of the ocean and should have been returned to the
ocean” (Kubota, “Whale Sanctuary” A7).
The issue persisted, and a few days later, the specialist said that it
was a “ ‘wasteful practice’ [. . .] not in keeping with Hawaiian culture
and its respect for ocean life, including sharks, which are regarded
by Hawaiians as guardians or aumakua” (Kubota, “Wasteful
Practices” A6).
Unlike with sharks, we know that our ancestors did not hunt
whales until modern technology, in the form of the whaling ships
and harpoons, came to the islands. What about the bodies of dead
whales that washed up on shore? We do know what our ancestors did
because Kamakau tells us.
[. . .] Ka-hekili’s request for Kualoa and the ivory that
drifted ashore [. . .]. Some approved [. . .]. [Ka-‘opulupulu,
the kahuna] said, “O chief! if you give away these things
your authority will be lost, and you will cease to be a
ruler. To Kualoa [it] belong[s] [. . .]. Without the ivory
that drifts ashore you could not offer to the gods the first
victim slain in battle; it would be for Ka-hekili to offer it
on Maui, and the rule would become his. You would be
no longer ruler.” (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 129)

Since the whale could not be hunted, how else would they
have obtained the whale’s tooth unless it drifted ashore and was
made kapu in the name of the sovereign or ruling chief to be
used for offerings and chiefly ornaments? Kahahana’s high priest,
Ka‘opulupulu, does not want his ali‘i to give up this right, for it
would amount to his loss of sovereignty as ruler.
190    Ho‘omana

It is apparent that some Native Hawaiians want to protect

the whale by granting it special status as ‘aumakua like the shark.
The difficulty here is that it is a completely modern invention. If
Hawaiian culture and spirituality are to be consulted in the treatment
of beached whales today, the result should be the claim by Native
Hawaiians of the right of sovereignty to use the ivory as their
ancestors did.
The pre-eminent problem, as summed up by one of the
newspaper accounts on the shark attacks, is “the dilemma facing
modern-day Hawaiians is that while family traditions claim shark
aumakua, very few families have continued the practice of being in
contact with their aumakua” (Ashizawa A4).
According to the newspaper account, it was this “inability of
modern Hawaiians to recognize a family guardian spirit in the form
of a shark” (Ashizawa A4) that alarmed the protester about the
planned hunt by the state. Of course, the fact that this was not the
case in the first newspaper reports, but what the protester then began
to say after others had brought attention to longstanding religious
traditions, further reveals the dilemma.
[H]e has seen reefs killed and fish stocks depleted by
runoff from sugar plantations and golf courses, the
denial of access to beaches and a headlong rush to
develop once-pristine land for the tourist industry.

“What was dear to my father I cannot show to my three

grandsons—how to pick limu, how to catch a certain
fish, how to build a house in the ocean to feed the fish
and taking only what you need. I’m 54 years old and now
I have to break the law to get to the ocean.” (Neil A3)

Traditional Hawaiian religious beliefs, as Kamakau wrote of the

‘aumākua, still persist to this day. Modern Hawaiians continue to
work out cultural identity and practices with present-day beliefs and
realities, but we must keep clear several points.
A belief system needs to be believed and practiced, not just
invoked for a particular purpose and/or cause.
From the newspaper reports, we have seen how traditions
about the ‘aumākua were being used for environmental
 No Nā Mamo  191

concerns, and as noble as that may be, that use distorted

those traditions. If there had not been some public response
to clarify the historical accuracy of the traditions, they might
have been accepted by a whole new generation of people in a
new way: as the beliefs of romantically and environmentally
friendly natives whose great ancestors lived in the “garden”
protecting and safeguarding nature.
Practice means having unhindered access to be able to
establish and maintain a relationship with the divine.
It is quite clear that the lack of knowledge, ability, and
access to opportunities to practice traditional ways has led
to the need for understanding and renewed practice. But
with population growth and heavy use of the ocean for
recreational activities, it would be very difficult to ensure and
maintain such an intimate relationship as with an ‘aumakua
without curious on-lookers.
Like many indigenous belief systems, traditional Hawaiian
religious beliefs involve the harnessing, invoking, and
imbuing of the world with the mana ‘power’ of the
divine. That means having the ability and knowledge to
communicate (prayers and rituals), as well as taking on
responsibilities to maintain and nurture that relationship.
One of the key points made over and over again about the
‘aumākua is that they have personal names and are not just a
type of animal or form. They are uncle so-and-so or great-
great grandfather so-and-so. This spiritual relationship is
reflected in the word ho‘omana for without the mana, as
Kamakau wrote, an owl is just an owl, and it tastes good, too.

There is a very real danger today of re-inventing these traditions

for questionable motives and “quick fixes.” The results can be very
funny, but, sadly, they also can greatly diminish what mana does
exist within remaining traditional beliefs.

Pī Kai—House Blessings and Purification

Fortunately, there is great potential for the creativity and survival
of our beliefs in this modern day. A good example is the widely
accepted practice, especially with businesses and families, to have
192    Ho‘omana

“house blessings” done in a traditional Hawaiian way. We find this

religious practice described in Ellis.
Offerings were made to the gods, and presents to the
priest, who entered the house, uttered prayers, went
through other ceremonies, and slept in it before the
owner took possession, in order to prevent evil spirits
from resorting to it, and to secure its inmates from the
effects of incantation. (Ellis 228)

In most ceremonies today, not only are prayers invoked (although

I haven’t heard of anyone sleeping in the house the night before), but
also a wooden calabash filled with salt water to sprinkle the building
or house is used. This, too, is a traditional religious practice called pī
kai (sprinkle with salt or sea water) or pī wai (sprinkle with fresh water
and turmeric root). We can find this in both Kamakau and Malo.
Another good use for sea water was to secure forgiveness
(huikala). When someone in the family broke an oath
sworn against another (ho‘ohiki ‘ino) [. . .] then the pikai, or
sprinkling with salt water, was the remedy to remove [the
repercussions from the breaking of the oath]. This is how
it was done. A basin or bowl of real sea water, or of water
to which salt had been added, in which were placed ‘awa
rootlets (huluhulu ‘awa) and olena, was the water to absolve
and cleanse (kalahala e huikala) the family for the defilement
(haumia) caused by the one who had broken his oath.

Any defilement pertaining to the house, to fishing, tapa

printing, tapa beating, farming, or wauke cultivation, from
which trouble had resulted, could be cleansed with pikai;
it purified and caused an end to defilement. Implements of
labor could also be cleansed of their defilement by pikai.
(Kamakau, Ka Po‘e Kahiko 114)

Malo states that it was a kahuna pule heiau ‘a priest in charge of

the temple prayers’ who conducted the ceremony for purification.
When this kahuna arrived with a po‘i [covered bowl] full
of salt [sea] water. There was some limu kala in this bowl.
Some used ‘Ōlena [Tumeric] in the bowl. The kahuna then
 No Nā Mamo  193

stood in front of the people who were sitting in a row. He

prayed [. . .]. Then the kahuna sprinkled the fresh water
(wai) mixed with ‘Ōlena upon all the people, and the
purification ceremony was over and the defilement was
ended. (201–202)

Hawaiian blessing of land and buildings is a very profound

indication that traditional beliefs and a world view or culture
endure for Native Hawaiians. This is furthered by the near universal
acceptance of the practice by business, government, and individuals
in the islands, either having or attending such blessings, performed as
traditional, or as Christian Hawaiian, ceremonies.

Astonishing Food of the Land

During and after the overthrow of the Hawaiian Kingdom,
Her Majesty Queen Lili‘uokalani urged her supporters not to act
violently against the revolutionaries. At this urging, many of the
native citizens protested using non-violent means. Since they were
banned from displaying the Hawaiian flag, they made wooden shields
to hold in public, wore Hawaiian patriotic ribbons and hat bands,
and composed songs of protest. One of those songs is sung today as
“Kaulana Nā Pua.” It contains the following stanza.
Ua lawa mākou i ka pōhaku
I ka ‘ai kamaha‘o o ka ‘āina.

We are satisfied with the stones,

Astonishing food of the land.
(Elbert and Mahoe 64)

I can think of two traditions in which stones were placed into kī

leaf parcels after the food that was originally in the parcels had been
eaten. One is the tradition of the despotic chief Koihala (Ko‘ihala). The
chief kept moving from place to place with no regard for his retainers
who carried his meal. They became exhausted and hungry, and so they
ate the food they had been carrying around. After eating the food, they
placed stones inside of the kī leaf wrapped parcels and awaited their
chief who had seen them eating his food. When he arrived demanding
his food, his own retainers stoned him to death (Green 89).
194    Ho‘omana

The other is a similar use of the ‘ai pōhaku, or stone bundled

foods, by the friends and followers of ‘Umi to kill and entomb his
older brother, the abusive chief Hākau (Fornander IV: 200–205).
The most well-known, and in fact internationally known,
tradition about stones is the belief that taking stones from the
volcano will displease Pele and cause bad luck. The National Park
Service has many letters and returned stones from visitors to
demonstrate the power of the tradition. But, remember what Ellis
told us about the lāhui imposed for Pele at Kīlauea.
[. . .] the natives requested us not to kaha, a heru ka one,
[helu ke one] strike, scratch, or dig the sand, assuring us
it would displease Pele [. . .]. (166)

There is no mention of stones. It has been admitted that

this tradition was, wisely, created by a park ranger fearing the
tremendous loss of lava rocks from the national park, especially over
time, with the thousands of souvenir-hunting visitors.
A more locally known stone tradition has been the offering and
depositing of stones wrapped in kī leaves, sometimes to the extreme
of being bundled like a laulau ‘kī leaf-wrapped food bundle’ at
historical and sacred sites, mostly traditional temples and shrines.
Archaeologists are alarmed at this religious act, not because of
the intent, but because like the park ranger, they are concerned that,
over the years, additional piles of stone will alter the site. And, like
in the park, a careful reading of the traditions shows that this is not a
practice that was traditionally done. If we go back to the tradition of
Wākea and Papa and look at the list of prohibited foods, which are the
foods used for temple offerings, we will not find stones on that list.
When did we start to feed the gods and spirits stones? Are we,
like the retainers of Ko‘ihala, waiting to stone the next visitor to
death, or are we stockpiling weapons? It is possible that someone
once left an offering weighed down by a stone wrapped with a kī
leaf so that the offering wouldn’t be blown or knocked down, and as
others came to the site and noticed the stone wrapped with a kī leaf,
they imitated it and a new tradition began.
Recently there have been increased conflicts over what is
“sacred” and what is not, especially with recent laws and sensitivities
 No Nā Mamo  195

A rain god located on the ‘Ulupalakua Ranch, sometimes called Lono. The late Rev. David
Ka‘alakea, who worked as a ranch hand, said that offerings were made to it to cause clouds to
form over Kaho‘olawe that would then move over Kula, Maui and bring rains in the afternoon.
The recent offerings seen below the image are stones wrapped in kī leaves.

to museum collections and traditional burial sites. The intent of

many of these laws is to address a history of looting and destruction
of Native American sites, the insensitivity accorded native peoples
and their traditions, the reparations of collections of items acquired
in such a manner, and the protection of existing sites and materials.
However, in the late 1990s several cases pitted Hawaiians against
Hawaiians over the claim of what is sacred. A good example of this
type of conflict occurred when a museum in Providence, Rhode
Island decided to put an old carved Hawaiian image, identified as a
decorated canoe haka used to hold spears or fishing poles, up for sale
for the sum of $200,000. The Office of Hawaiian Affairs and a group
called Hui Mālama i Nā Kūpuna o Hawai‘i Nei sued to stop the sale
under the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act.
Their claim was that “the object was an ‘aumakua, an ancestral deity
relied upon by present-day descendants for guidance and protection”
(Wright A31).
This claim was challenged by the museum’s expert witnesses,
including Herb Kawainui Kane, “famous in Hawaii as an artist and one
of the creators and the first captain of the voyaging canoe Hokule‘a.”
196    Ho‘omana

Kane said “it is uncomfortable to me” to be testifying

against the claims of Hawaiian groups. “But it was even
more uncomfortable to let this matter continue the way
it had been, knowing that the truth is being handled in a
cavalier fashion.”

There are some figures which are ‘aumakua, “which

would have been sacred to a particular family.”

“But you couldn’t say,” as the Hawaiian groups have

claimed, “that they were sacred to all the people,” he said.

Kane said he has heard criticism for his position. He said

the ki‘i is clearly carved in a secular, rather than sacred,
style, and wouldn’t qualify even if a Hawaiian religion
survived today. (Wright A31)

With the help of a $125,000 donation by the Office of Hawaiian

Affairs (OHA), the ki‘i has been returned to Hawai‘i and is currently
housed at the Bernice Pauahi Bishop Museum. But its return was
not as a religious or sacred object. Such situations have become
more common, and it is more evident that continual use of the claim
of religious or sacred importance will be looked at more carefully.
This “cavalier” usage of alleged sacredness may actually diminish
the mana of the argument, especially if the claims are shown to be
unfounded.
Mana is not a fragile concept. When the late “Papa” Richard
Lyman, then a trustee for the powerful Bishop Estate, asked me what
I thought of the geothermal drilling issue, I simply reminded him of
Pele. If Pele is who she really is, then I would not have any fears that
she could not take care of herself. If the drilling was a good thing then
it would go on, but if it was not good then Pele would resolve it in her
own way. She didn’t need protest groups and lawyers to reveal her will.
This legend, or sense, of mana continues to persist, for it was
reported in 2002 in the Honolulu Advertiser that the old Kona
Lagoon Hotel on the island of Hawai‘i would finally be torn down.
The cause?
Some people think the Kona Lagoon Hotel was cursed from the
start. Surrounded by ancient temples and archaeological sites, it was
 No Nā Mamo  197

built on the dwelling place of supernatural twin sisters, ‘aumakua

who took the form of lizards, according to Hawaiian legend.
Security guards hired to watch the property when the
462-room hotel closed in 1988 were frightened at night,
said Joe Castelli, who lives at the neighboring Keauhou
Kona Tennis and Racquet Club.

“They told me that they would see lights up there and

hear Hawaiians singing and talking . . . but when they
got there, they didn’t find anything. So they said they
just didn’t go anymore,” Castelli said. (Hurley A1)

It is not important whether this is true or not, unless you want to

tell spooky ghost stories around a camp fire. What is important about
this report is that the belief in the ‘aumākua is given such attention
today. It is telling us that even if the formal temple worship and its
related kapu system have ceased, mana exists and endures because
people continue to recognize and believe in it.
The danger to the integrity of mana comes when traditional
religious beliefs and practices are used for other reasons and
purposes. When this usage is revealed not to be based in the
tradition, it can have the effect of lessening people’s belief in their
own culture and also the belief of others in that culture. When this
change is accepted as being traditional, it can dramatically alter the
actual tradition, for good or bad.
The late Lakota theologian Vine Deloria, Jr. witnessed this trend
among Native Americans.
Sweat lodges conducted for $50, peyote meetings for
$1,500, medicine drums for $300, weekend workshops
and vision quests for $500, two do-it-yourself
practitioners smothered in their own sweat lodge—the
interest in American Indian spirituality only seems
to grow and manifests itself in increasingly bizarre
behavior—by both Indians and non-Indians. Manifestos
have been issued, lists of people no longer welcome on
the reservations have been compiled, and biographies of
proven fraudulent medicine men have been publicized.
Yet nothing seems to stem the tide of abuse and misuse
198    Ho‘omana

of Indian ceremonies. Indeed, some sweat lodges in

the suburbs at times seem like the opening move in a
scenario of seduction of naive but beautiful women who
are encouraged to play the role of “Mother Earth” in
bogus ceremonies. (The World xvii)

How do we move from the past tradition to the future? I was

visiting the island of Moloka‘i in the 1970s, and I asked a family
friend, Mary Horner, if we could visit the grave of her late father,
the Rev. Mitchell Pau‘ole, who had been the unofficial “mayor” of
Moloka‘i and a leading kahu ‘pastor’ of a Hawaiian Congregational
church. While we were at the grave site, it dawned on Mary that
it was almost one year to the day since her father had died and
in passing conversation she said that her father had told her that
we (modern-day Hawaiians) should not be frightened of the past.
After all, we are descendants of those people some called pagan and
heathen. He told her, “We don’t do what they did, but we respect
them because they are our ancestors.”
So, what does one do when walking upon an ancient trail or
entering a historical or archaeological site? I think most people go
there to learn and understand, and if that is the case, then the key
word is respect. That does not mean one has to believe or one has
to have an offering in hand. We may well be wise to consider the
traditional proverb “to walk gently upon the trail, not picking or
touching, not lingering too long with the intent of destroying or
doing something malicious lest the god becomes angry.”
 No Nā Mamo  199

8 Alaka‘i
Traditional Leadership

E ho‘okanaka.
Be someone.
motto of Kamehameha II

E na‘i ‘oukou i ku‘u pono, ‘a‘ole e pau.
Try and undo the good things of mine, it cannot be done.
the attributed last words of Kamehameha

He [a young chief] would have many troubles, live in poverty,
and become a famous ruler.
Kamakau

The word for leadership in the Pukui and Elbert Hawaiian

Dictionary is alaka‘ina (1986: 472). This word is derived from the
root alaka‘i ‘[t]o lead, guide, direct’ (18) and the suffix ‘ana ‘-ing’ (24).
Today we see this word used to describe things like student leadership
in a hālau ‘school’ or the relationship of a mentor to a student. And
it is probably true that this word has always applied to this kind of
leadership. I have not seen alaka‘i used to describe an ali‘i.
An ali‘i’s leadership role was unlike that of today’s political
leaders who gain power through popular election and lead us in a
democratic system of government. In Hawai‘i, traditional governance
and the development of leadership were based upon an accident of
birth that conveyed rank, status, and a place within the hierarchy. In
re-examining traditional sources like the writings of Davida Malo, we
rediscover a sense of what traditional leadership was like in Hawai‘i
and see that it had many of the qualities of great leadership that are
not only timeless but universally held.
One of the biggest clues Malo gives us comes from his chapter
concerning the relationship between the ali‘i ‘chiefs’ and the
maka‘āinana ‘people.’
He nui ke ano o na [a]lii, aole like pu, he hao wale kahi alii,
he uhuki wale kahi alii, he pepehi wale kahi alii, he ohi wale
kahi alii, he pue wale kahi alii uuku na [a]lii noho pono e
like me Kamehameha I he alii hoomalu pono ia. (33)
200    Alaka‘i

There were many dispositions of the ali‘i. They were not

alike. An ali‘i would be known to only plunder, another
to up root things, another to kill and another to collect
or to heap things up. There were a few just ali‘i like
Kamehameha I.; for he was a just and caring ali‘i. (177)

There are several things to look at in this statement. The first is

how Malo approaches his description. He begins with the negative
and ends with the positive. This same approach is used in his other
observations, perhaps because it is easier to remember and describe
the things that are abnormal or different, and, by a process of
elimination, work back to what you really wanted to say.
The ali‘i that he refers to—those that plunder, dig up crops,
murder, or are greedy—come from a well-remembered tradition that
he describes in the following paragraph.
Due to the misbehavior of some ali‘i to the maka‘āinana,
there were often battles fought between the ali‘i and the
maka‘āinana. Many ali‘i were killed by the maka‘āinana
in battle. The maka‘āinana were the opponents of rogue
ali‘i in the old days. (Malo 177)

Malo repeats this statement later in his chapter on politics.

There were many ali‘i who were killed by the
maka‘āinana because they were oppressed.
These were the ali‘i who were killed by the maka‘āinana
because [they oppressed them]. Ko‘ihala was killed be-
cause he overburdened the maka‘āinana in [the district
of] Kā‘ū, [on the island of Hawai‘i]. Due to this murder
[the district of] Kā‘ū was called mākaha [fierce].
Ko‘ihalalani was an ali‘i who was killed in Kā‘ū. Hala‘ea
was another ali‘i killed in Kā‘ū. ‘Ehunuikaimalino was an
ali‘i who was secretly killed by lawai‘a at Keahuolu in the
Kona [district on the island of Hawai‘i]. Kamai‘ole was
another ali‘i killed by Kalapana at ‘Anaeho‘omalu in the
district of Kona.

Hakau was the ali‘i killed by ‘Umi at Waipi‘o [Valley]

in the Hāmākua [district] on the island of Hawai‘i.
 No Nā Mamo  201

Lonoikamakahiki was presumed to be expelled in Kona and

‘Umiokalani was another ali‘i who was expelled in Kona.

Therefore, several of the traditional or old ali‘i feared the

maka‘āinana, but the maka‘āinana faced death when the
ali‘i was pono [moral, proper or fair]. (266)

The Despotic Chiefs

The importance of these traditions of the despotic chiefs in the
memory of the ali‘i is given by the native historian John Papa ‘Ī‘ī in
this account of how Kamehameha passed on these traditions to his
son and heir, Liholiho, at the temple of Ahu‘ena in Kailua on the
island of Hawai‘i.
Whenever there was a meeting in the Ahuena house in
the evening, the king [Kamehameha] instructed the heir
[Liholiho] carefully as to how to do things, describing
the lives of former rulers such as Keakealaniwahine,
Kalaniopuu, Koihala, Kamalalawalu, Kauhiakama, and
Hakau. Thus Liholiho learned the results of abuse and
disregard of the welfare of chiefs and commoners and
about farming and fishing and things of like nature. In the
discussions with the king the heir derived understanding
which has passed down to his heirs of today. (129)

What is in these traditions that is so important to shaping the

thinking and behavior of the future ali‘i? It should be obvious from
‘Ī‘ī’s statement that Kamehameha hoped his son would figure out
which actions and decisions of those chiefs were good or bad and
how others reacted to them. ‘Ī‘ī mentioned the tradition of Ko‘ihala,
and that is a good place to start because it is lesser known than that
of the half-brothers Hākau and ‘Umi. Editor Martha Beckwith notes
the similarity of plots between this account of Ko‘ihala and the story
in which “the disaffected old followers of Liloa destroyed Hākau and
obtained the chieftainship of Hawaii for Umi” (Green 89).
An irresolute chief was Ko-i-ha-la. When the chief was
visiting in Ko-na, he despatched a messenger to Ka-u
with the order for food to be prepared and taken to Wai-
ahu-kini, there to meet him. When all was in readiness,
202    Alaka‘i

the servants bore it to Wai-ahu-kini. As they sat awaiting

his appearance, they saw the chief’s canoe heading for
Kai-li-kii, so they took up the food again and went on to
the place where they expected him to land. Not so! when
they got to Kai-li-kii he was heading for Ka-pu-a.

Again the men shouldered the food and followed

toward the mountain, but as they reached Ka-pu-a they
perceived the chief heading for Ka-alu-alu and they
immediately proceeded thither.

By this time they were hungry and tired and they therefore
agreed to watch and, if the chief did not arrive shortly, to
eat the food themselves. The chief delayed landing, simply
sitting idly in the canoe and gazing at the men. So the
servants ate the food that had been prepared and then they
filled with stones the ti-leaf packets in which the fish had
been wrapped and the empty calabashes of vegetable food.
The chief, seeing these things [Ike ke alii i ka ano e o kanaka
— The chief saw the strange behavior of the servants],
paddled furiously until he reached Ka-alu-alu. Hence has
arisen the proverb, “Kau ino auwaa o Kaalualu,” that is,
“The canoes arrive hurriedly at Ka-alu-alu.” Hastening up
the beach to the spot where the men sat he cried, “Say! let us
eat! let the chief eat!”—“Yes, indeed!” answered the servants.
“Here is vegetable food and fish!” Whereupon they stoned
the despotic chief to death. (Green 89)

The term used in the Hawaiian text to describe the chief Ko‘ihala
is “ho‘oluhi i‘o,” that is, to make truly tired or to overburden.
To understand the importance of the servants’ actions, we must
remember that chiefs were like gods upon the earth. They had rank
and status, and if we carefully examine what happened, we can
see that Ko‘ihala’s servants loyally continued to follow their chief
wherever he went. Things changed when the chief remained in his
canoe off shore and just looked at his servants and the food. That is
the moment when the relationship broke down because of the chief’s
insolence and irresponsibility toward the efforts of his people.
As Beckwith has noted, a similar ruse was used to kill the
physically and mentally abusive Hākau, the older brother of ‘Umi. It
 No Nā Mamo  203

is told in detail in the Fornander account: ‘Umi’s followers gathered

stones, and they “were bundled up into ti-leaf [wrappers], and made
to resemble bundles of potatoes” (VI: 200). With the help of some
elders who eased Hākau’s suspicions, ‘Umi, his friends, and followers
surprised Hākau and stoned and entombed him with the bundles
they had brought with them (Fornander IV: 200–204).
Green’s collection also gives the traditions of Hala‘ea and
Kōha‘ikalani, both of whom were killed in the Ka‘ū district on the
island of Hawai‘i. Hala‘ea was a chief who coveted all the fish caught
by his fishermen. The fishermen respected the demands of their chief
until they and they families were forced into near starvation. The
Hawaiian text says that “Hoakoakoa na poo lawaia [. . .] a kukakuka
iho nei lakou [. . .]” (86). The head fishermen gathered and discussed
among themselves how they could get rid of their chief. Their
strategy was brilliant because they were able to destroy their chief
without diminishing the respect to the chief ’s rank and status. What
they did was simple: they kept on filling the chief ’s canoe with heavy
‘ahi fish until the canoe was ready to sink, and then they all paddled
quickly away to watch the chief drown with his coveted fish. The
word given to describe Hala‘ea is anunu or “greedy” (86–89).
Kōha‘ikalani is described as “[h]e alii hoounauna ino” (Green
90) or “causing heavy burdens to be laid upon his people whenever
opportunity offered” (91). Kōha‘ikalani had his people gather stones
to build a new temple, but the priests who came to bless the place
realized that the quantity of stones meant the temple would be for
human sacrifice, and they warned the people, who were the potential
offerings. Taking note of the priests’ caution, the people were able
to convince the chief to help them by pushing the tree from below
while they pulled it from above. The “men pulled at the tree until
half the distance up the cliff was covered, then they released the rope.
The great tree rolled over on top of the chief and death came to the
oppressor [alii hooluhi]” (90–91).
The people were warned by the priests, but they did not retaliate
directly. Rather, it was the chief ’s vanity in taking the role of pushing
the log rather than pulling it, a role that should have been for his
people, that killed him.
204    Alaka‘i

Another despotic chief mentioned by Malo is Kamai‘ole.

Kamai‘ole had taken away the chiefdom from another ruling chief
Kanipahu, who was exiled to the island of Moloka‘i. Kamai‘ole was
known for taking the wives of other men and refusing to give them
back. “Therefore the maka‘āinana were very angry at Kamai‘ole. They
secretly went to ask [the priest-prophet] Pā‘ao how Kamai‘ole could
be killed” (Malo 298).
Word was sent to Kanipahu calling for his return, but he
refused and designated one of his children, Kalapana, as heir. When
Kamai‘ole traveled by canoe, his canoe would wait until all others
had gone ahead, and so at ‘Anaeho‘omalu, the people and Kalapana,
now the designated heir of Kanipahu, waited overnight until all the
canoes set sail leaving Kamai‘ole’s behind. Then they went to kill
Kamai‘ole (Malo 299).
Among Malo’s traditions of chiefs who were killed by the
maka‘āinana is his statement that “ ‘Ehunuikaimalino was an ali‘i
who was secretly killed by lawai‘a at Keahuolu in the Kona [district
on the island of Hawai‘i]” (266). This brief passage is the only
source we have of a deliberate and outright killing of a high chief
by commoners done “secretly.” ‘Ehunuikaimalino was recognized
as the builder of many pathways in the Kona district on the island
of Hawai‘i and the builder of the famous pu‘uhonua ‘place of
refuge’ Hōnaunau (Barrère, “A Reconstruction” 117). According
to Kamakau, the chief ‘Umi-a-Līloa took over as ruler of ‘Ehu’s
kingdom when ‘Ehu was in his old age (Ruling Chiefs 19). Typically
for the tradition of ‘Ehunuikaimalino, of which we are missing many
pieces, Malo does not tell us why fishermen would kill such an elderly
high chief and in such a manner.
In Malo’s concluding chapters on the traditions of the ali‘i, he
seems to emphasize the difference between good and bad chiefs as
being instructive points to remember. We can see this in Malo’s
description of the very early ali‘i, Waia.
In the words of the Hawaiian Island’s people of old,
Waia(’s) chiefdom was very hewa (bad), because he went
about [only] seeking after entertainment, sports and
pleasures. He had abandoned the orders of his parents
to be religious (haipule) and to properly care for the
 No Nā Mamo  205

chiefdom, and to care for the maka‘āinana [commoners]

so that his reign would [be] beneficial. (295)

In Waia we have a chief who is not actively oppressive, but who

is still considered a bad chief because he neglects his duty to properly
care (mālama pono) for both chiefs and commoners.

Other Chiefs Kamehameha Wanted his Son to Remember

To learn about the other chiefs that Kamehameha wanted his
son to know (Lonoikamakahiki, Keākealaniwahine, Kalani‘opu‘u,
Kamalālāwalu, KauhiaKama), we have to look at the history written
by other native Hawaiian historians, Samuel Manaiakalani Kamakau
and John Papa ‘Ī‘ī.
The traditions of Lonoikamakahiki (Hawai‘i), Kamalālāwalu
(Maui) and KauhiaKama (Maui) are contemporary with each
other. Lono and Kama were rival chiefs and Kauhi was the son of
Kama. Kamakau states that Lonoikamakahiki “proved to be a bad-
tempered chief, who was jealous of his wife because of her beauty,
and frequently gave her a beating” (Ruling Chiefs 47). According
to Kamakau, Lono killed his wife in a jealous fit and became
temporarily insane. After wandering in the wilderness and suffering
“cold, chill, hunger, poverty, and lack of clothing,” he was able to
recover, and “he attended to the affairs of his kingdom. [. . .] He
became a chief who earned the gratitude of his subjects[1]” (Ruling
Chiefs 48).
Kamakau describes Kamalālāwalu as someone who “grew weary
of continued peace with the chiefs of Hawaii, and desired to make
war against the chiefs of Kohala, Kona, and Ka-‘u” (Ruling Chiefs
55). In waging his war, “Kama-lala-walu, the heedless chief, paid
no attention, but followed the advice of two old men of Kawaiahae
who counseled falsely” (Ruling Chiefs 58). He died at the battle at
Pu‘u‘oa‘oaka in Waimea on the island of Hawai‘i. Kamakau writes
that Kamalālāwalu “was noted for his fearlessness, and he died
bravely before the chiefs and warriors of Hawaii. He showed no fear
or cowardice, but went forward to meet his death. [. . .] [H]is name
became [. . .] attached to his islands as ‘Maui, land of Kama.’ Ka-uhi-
a-Kama succeeded as ruler of Maui [. . .]” (Ruling Chiefs 60–61).
206    Alaka‘i

KauhiaKama had been saved during the battle and escaped back
to Maui. According to Kamakau, KauhiaKama was saved by Hinau,
a “foster son of Lono-i-ka-makahiki.” And strangely, Kamakau adds,
“Ka-uhi-a-Kama made Hinau’s name a famous one. It was said that
Ka-uhi-a-Kama was annoyed with Hinau because he was a favorite
of Lono-i-ka-makahiki, and sought means of destroying him. It was
said that his [Hinau’s] eyes were scooped out” (Ruling Chiefs 60).
Later KauhiaKama was captured and taken prisoner to O‘ahu
where his captors “roasted him in an oven, and [. . .] used his skull as
a filth pot” (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 232). His death and desecration
were avenged by Kahekili who “punished the chiefs of Oahu for the
evil done by their ancestors and avenged the blood these had shed
upon the heads of their children” (Ruling Chiefs 233).
Now Keākealaniwahine was a descendant of Lonoikamakahiki.
She was the daughter of a woman whose parents were of the highest
“marriage” of chiefs, that of a brother and sister. It was said of
her mother, Keakamahana, that the chiefs of Kona “recognized
one as head over all and they all called her their lord. They left the
government to her and exalted her” (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 61).
And her grandmother, Kaikilani, the wife of Lonoikamakahiki, was
the first female chief to be given the right and responsibility to rule.
Keakamahana, Kamakau tells us, “despised” her mother-in-law
and the oldest daughter of her husband. “She had his mother and
daughter killed and their bones mistreated. When Iwi-kau-i-ka-ua
discovered that his mother and daughter had been secretly murdered,
his mind became possessed with a desire to desert his wife and betray
her government to the chiefs of Hilo.” He left Keakamahana and
lived on the island of O‘ahu and married there having a son. This
son, upon maturity, went back to the island of Hawai‘i and married
his half-sister, Keākealani (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 62).
When Keākealani ruled over Kona, there was a war with the
chiefs of Hilo, and the Kona forces lost (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs
62–63). “Kona’s chiefs fled to their fortresses, and Keakea-lani and
others were taken captive when the Hilo chiefs won. Keakea-lani and
her company were sent as prisoners to Maui and to Molokai. Keakea-
lani was restored to Kohala where she ruled, in name only, over the
districts of Kohala, Kona, and Ka-‘u” (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 63).
 No Nā Mamo  207

Kalani‘ōpu‘u, the paramount chief over the island of Hawai‘i, was

succeeded by Alapa‘i, whose grandfather had been the kuhina kaua
nui ‘executive officer of war’ for Keākealani (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs
76). So the chiefs that Kamehameha was using to instruct his son
were not only of recent memory, but they were also closely related
and contemporaries of each other.
Kalani‘ōpu‘u was the paramount chief whom Kamehameha
served under as a young warrior. Kamakau describes Kalani‘ōpu‘u
as “[a] clever chief [. . .] and an able one, famous as an athlete in all
games of strength [. . .]. But he had one great fault; he loved war and
display and had no regard for another’s right over land [. . .]” (Ruling
Chiefs 79).
In storytelling there are two sides to the telling of the story: that
of the story teller and that of the audience. What was Kamehameha
trying to teach, to transmit to his son Liholiho, the heir apparent?
And what did Liholiho hear? There are many examples that can be
drawn out of the lives and experiences of the ali‘i Kamehameha used.
We should instantly notice the following traits and behaviors: bad-
tempered, jealous, physically and mentally abusive, heedless of good
advice, and vengeful.

Hewa and Pono

That kind of behavior is what Malo described as “hewa”—bad
and inappropriate, and they are part of the copious list that Malo
gives. In fact, Malo devotes a whole chapter in his writings to what
we today would call morals or ethical behavior, and in doing so
he may have been the only native writer to give us such a detailed
account. We might assume, by the sheer number of examples of hewa
within these traditions we are told Kamehameha chose for his son to
learn from, that the nature of hewa in relationship to the ruling chief
was what Kamehameha was trying to emphasize to his son. If hewa is
not the appropriate behavior of “a true chief,” then what is?
We have already seen the answer to this question in some of the
traditions previously mentioned. Malo speaks of a “just and caring”
chief (177) “alii hoomalu pono” (33), “to be religious (haipule) and
to properly care” (295) “malama pono” (122) for the chiefdom and
the commoners. We can start to understand the qualities that make
208    Alaka‘i

a good chief in this account of Kamehameha’s response to his son’s

behavior.
While the young chief [Liholiho] and a group of chiefs
were in their presence, Kalanimoku asked, “What do
you think? Shall we wrest the kingdom from your father
[Kamehameha], make you king, and put him to death?”

Liholiho bowed his head in meditation before he looked

at the gathering, and answered, “I do not want my father
to die.” This reply brought forth the admiration of all of
the chiefs.

Kinopu, Kamehameha’s messenger, returned before the

company reached Honolulu and told Kamehameha all
he had seen and heard, including the reply the young
chief had made. When the king heard what the young
chief had said he was touched and stated, “He is indeed
a chief. He did not side with his guardian although he
knew everything that had gone on. He chose patience
rather than the kingdom. That is the nature of a true
chief.” (Ii 51)

Malo wrote that “[i]f all the people knew that he was an ali‘i
haipule [religious ali‘i], who properly took care of the god (ke akua),
then all the people desired that ali‘i [to be theirs]. The ali‘i haipule(s)
were greatly desired persons from the old days. The ali‘i haipule(s)
were honored persons” (261).
This sentiment was stated to Kahahana, the ruling chief of
O‘ahu by his prophet, Ka‘opulupulu when Kahahana indicated that
he wanted to complete a tour of the island restoring “the houses
dedicated to the gods” (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 133).
‘It is a good wish, O chief! for the gods are the pillars of
the dominion [. . .]. The gods give such life to a religious
person, and none shall rebel against his rule. If the land
becomes poor or suffers from famine or is scorched by
the sun or lacks fish or servitors, the gods can be found
in Kahikimelemele. There are two roads for the chief
to take about the island, one which will support the
dominion and make it fast so that it shall remain fixed
 No Nā Mamo  209

and immovable, a second which will give the dominion

to others.’ (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 133–134)

 So, religious is one word we can use to describe a good leader.

Kamakau tells of how two of the ali‘i, Lonoikamakahiki and

Kamalālāwalu, were able to overcome their hewa through living in
adversity or demonstrating courage and bravery, and then they were
well-remembered ali‘i.
In fact, we find in the traditions of an earlier ali‘i, KihaaPi‘ilani, a
similar story of adversity in his youth.
He patiently bore his troubles knowing that he would
not die, and that the kingdom of Maui would yet be
his. He would become a famous ruler according to the
predictions of those who reared him. ‘He would have
many troubles, live in poverty, and become a famous
ruler.’ Kiha-a-Pi‘i-lani bore his troubles, his poverty, and
his homeless state patiently. (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 22)

It appears that such historical experiences were made part of the

formal education of young ali‘i.
Furthermore, during the youth of the ali‘i ‘aimoku
[paramount chief of district or island], they were sent out
to live with wise and skilled people, and to listen first to
the words of experts and to the important things that
would benefit their rule. They were to first show bravery
in combat and in wisdom and to do these things without
any hesitation.

Furthermore, [these young people] would initially live

with another ali‘i in a state of poverty, starvation and
famine so they would remember what these conditions
of life were like. (Malo 173)

So, another word we can use to describe a good leader is

patience.

In the statement above, Malo also gives us another clue in the

words, “listen first to the words of experts.” If we look back at the
210    Alaka‘i

tradition of Kamalālāwalu, we noted that he was heedless of good

advice. The disregard for good counsel is also to be found in the
tradition of Keli‘iokaloa, the eldest son of ‘UmiaLīloa.
While he [Keli‘iokaloa] reigned, he took good care of
his kingdom, his god, the priests and prophets of the
god, and the common people. He lived a righteous life
and heeded the teachings of the priests and prophets,
but did not mind his father’s advice to take care of the
chiefs, the old men and old women, the orphans and the
poor. When he deserted the advice of the wise, he paid
attention to that of fools, thus forsaking the teachings
of his father and the learned men of his kingdom. He
deserted the god and oppressed the people. (Kamakau,
Ruling Chiefs 34–35)

Malo even gives us a very vivid idea of how the ali‘i sought good
counsel.
When the sun set lamps were light [sic] and the ali‘i
ate [their meal]. Those who came in to eat with him or
her [the ali‘i] were called lanika‘e. Those who came in
late at night were called poho kano. They only talked by
lamp light (kukui) and did not eat anything. The people
who stayed with the ali‘i at the dawn’s lamp light were
called makou because makou was the name of the lamp.
(179–180)
[ . . ] If they [the kālaimoku(s)] desired to speak with
the ali‘i nui then they went to his hale manawa, and sent
for the ali‘i nui(’s) lomilomi [masseur] to find the ali‘i
nui. [When he was located], they all (lākou) secretly
conversed together. This conversation was called ‘aha
kūkā malu, and when it was over they all returned to
their own hale(s).
If the ali‘i(s) directly below [in rank of the ali‘i nui]
wanted to converse with the ali‘i nui on matters
regarding the chiefdom, perhaps on the topic of war,
then the ali‘i nui secretly sent for the kālaimoku(s) to
talk with him. The ali‘i nui listened to all their (lākou)
advice (pono) and then they left.
 No Nā Mamo  211

When the ali‘i nui met (‘aha ‘ōlelo) with all the ali‘i
below him in rank, he listened only to what every ali‘i
had to say. If the ali‘i nui recognized what one ali‘i of his
said, for it was similar to his kālaimoku(s’) advice that
had been secretly heard, then the ali‘i nui agreed to this
ali‘i(’s) words. (266–267)

Malo’s description of the possible processes of counsel also

indicates that it is not just listening that is important for the ali‘i,
but it is also important to analyze many views and opinions. In such
a dilemma, it appears that an ali‘i would defer to the counsel of his
kālaimoku or chief counselor.

So, listening and heeding good advice must be added to the

list of the qualities of a good leader.

Kamakau wrote of Keli‘iokaloa that “he took good care of his

kingdom, his god, the priests and prophets of the god, and the
common people” (Ruling Chiefs 35), and Malo calls Kamehameha an
“alii hoomalu pono” (33) ‘chief who is just and caring.’
Kamakau also gives examples of two opposing chiefs on the
island of Maui during the time of Kahekili and Kamehameha.
Kahekili had appointed Kalanikūpule to rule over Maui.
Ka-lani-ku-pule was a chief praised for his freedom from
pretentiousness. He loved the common people, would
fraternize with the humblest, and was not haughty. He
was spoken of thus:

Ku moku paupau
Ko Kanekope - pau e -
Pa-u kahu akua o mua - hilu - e
Ko noho ana i ka haumanumanu
Ko - ki – e
Standing upon the lowland
Your chiefly grandeur is gone,
Your divine state is set aside; although dignified
You live humbly,
Very humbly.
(Ruling Chiefs 142–143)
212    Alaka‘i

The chiefs of Hawai‘i occupied the eastern side of Maui in Hāna

and Kīpahulu. Among those chiefs was the younger brother of
Kamehameha, KalanimālokulokuiKepo‘okalani. Kamakau wrote
that, “[h]e protected the rights of the common people, and while he
lived in Kipahulu and Hana there was no sugar cane broken off, no
potatoes dug up, no pigs roasted. The common people loved him and
called him ‘The good chief’ (Ke-ali‘i-maika‘i) in praise of his kind
deeds, and that is why his life was spared when he was about to be
made prisoner in war” (Ruling Chiefs 143).
In particular, the kindness of both chiefs shows in the way they
exercised the chiefly prerogative, for “[a]n ali‘i would be known to
only plunder, another to up root things, another to kill and another
to collect or to heap things up” (Malo 177). These “good chiefs” did
not do those things, and they commanded their forces not to touch
the property of the commoners.
So, we can add caring to the list of words used to describe a
good leader.
Another example of the “good chief” comes from the tradition
of the chief Kalaunui‘ōhua. Although it is not as well remembered
as Kamehameha’s feat in unifying the islands in modern Hawaiian
history, this tradition records the last time before Kamehameha’s
success that an attempt was made to re-unify the islands since it was
first accomplished by the chief Kuali‘i.
Again from Malo’s account, we learn that Kalaunui‘ōhua
obtained a great power through being possessed ‘akua noho.’ Malo
tells us that in order to have gotten that power Kalaunui‘ōhua had
to be “patient enough until the day turns to night” (300). Of course,
he wasn’t. Nonetheless, the god, Kānenuiākea, took possession of his
hand, and “Kalaunui‘ōhua was very powerful and if his hand pointed
to do battle with another district then this district would flee” (301).
Kalaunui‘ōhua was able to conquer Maui, Moloka‘i and
O‘ahu. The ruling chiefs were spared and made kia‘āina ‘governor,’
“Lit., prop [of the] land” (Pukui and Elbert 1986: 146) under
Kalaunui‘ōhua’s rule. However, when he engaged the island of Kaua‘i
in battle, the power of his hand departed, and Kalaunui‘ōhua was
defeated by the ruling chief, Kūkona. Kalaunui‘ōhua, Kamalu‘ōhua
 No Nā Mamo  213

of Maui, Kahoku‘ōhua of Moloka‘i, and Huai[ka]pouleilei of O‘ahu

were taken prisoners, known as hua.
Kūkona was kind to them and one day he stayed alone
with these captured hua. Kūkona seemed to fall asleep
(moe uku la), but he was really not asleep. He was
pretending (ho‘okalakupua) so he could observe them
from the inside of his ahu [blanket].

The hua thought that he was fast asleep and they plotted
to kill him. The hua of O‘ahu, Moloka‘i and Hawai‘i
vowed [in agreement] to kill him.

Kamalu‘ōhua, who was Maui’s hua, said, ‘We must not

harm (hana ‘ino) Kūkona, because he has been good to
us. We are in his hands. He has not killed us, therefore
we should be fair [hana maika‘i] to him.’

Then Kūkona got up. He said to them, ‘My rest has been
good. You people plotted to kill me and he is the one who
saved me.’ (Kamalu‘ōhua was the one he pointed to.)

They admitted it and Kūkona said [to them] that because

of the fairness of Kamalu‘ōhua’s thought, ‘You shall
all receive my pardon (pōmaika‘i), because he thought
that life is a very important thing as is the protection of
living.

Because of the pono [just or goodness] of Kamalu‘ōhua, I

will send you all back. You will return in victory to your
own islands. I have no thought of ruling over you. You
and your lands will be the same as before.’ (Malo 302)

Now comes Malo’s point.

Because of the life of Kūkona, Kamehameha I
remembered it. This is why Kamehameha spared
Kaumuali‘i at their meeting in Honolulu on the island of
O‘ahu. (302)
In the Hawaiian text, the now familiar words maika‘i and pono
are used to describe the actions of both chiefs: Kalaunui‘ōhua’s
treatment of his hua is “hana maika‘i,” and Kamalu‘ōhua’s wisdom
214    Alaka‘i

is “pono.” But what is more remarkable is Malo’s point that

Kamehameha had heard the tradition before, remembered it, and
then followed its wisdom when he had the opportunity to do so.
As our examples have changed in their nature from emphasizing
hewa to emphasizing pono so must our question: What and who
is a good chief? We have learned there are two different words
in Hawaiian for good—maika‘i and pono. We have seen how
Kamehameha’s younger brother was given the name Keali‘imaika‘i
‘the good chief ’ because of his good deeds and kindness. We also
recall that Malo calls Kamehameha a pono chief ‘a just or fair’ chief.
This title tells us that his goodness is derived not only from his
behavior, but from his morals and decision-making as well.
The Pono of Kamehameha
What made Kamehameha pono? Although Malo makes the
claim, he doesn’t explain in detail why. However, Kamakau does so
in a way we call helu, that is, to count or account for his greatness.
And yet we must be a bit cautious, for even Kamakau reveals that
Kamehameha “did this in order that the people might speak of his
kindness and of the pains he took to care for the chiefs and the
people; the orators were instructed to speak of his kind acts” (Ruling
Chiefs 178).
This is the account Kamakau gives of Kamehameha.
Kamehameha had a deliberative council consisting of his
counselors and chiefs [. . .] and these persons handled the
affairs of government in matters of war or of the welfare of
the people (Ruling Chiefs 175).
Kamehameha always listened to the advice of orators,
diviners, kahunas, and men of skill (Ruling Chiefs 181).
He sought out men who had knowledge of old methods of
warfare and made them members of his council (Ruling
Chiefs 175).
Kamehameha made laws to protect both chiefs and
commoners, prohibiting murder, theft, wanton destruction
of property, the taking of property without cause, robbing the
weak, praying to death, and laws to observe the tabus of the
gods (Ruling Chiefs 175–176).
 No Nā Mamo  215

He also regulated the fishermen (Ruling Chiefs 176).

He used himself to take part in the work, no matter what
kind it was (Ruling Chiefs 176).
He placed restrictions on sea fisheries for periods of five
months [. . .] (Ruling Chiefs 177).
He also appointed kahunas as craftsmen [. . .].Wai-pa he
appointed at the head of all these crafts (Ruling Chiefs 176–
177).
He appointed tax gatherers for large and small properties
[. . .], the larger lands paying larger taxes and the smaller
lands smaller taxes (Ruling Chiefs 177).
Kamehameha selected men to act as teachers in the arts of
wrestling (ku‘ialua) [and other sports] [. . .], the configurations
of the earth (papa hulihonua), wound healing (lonopu ha ), and
all the arts of the kahuna (Ruling Chiefs 178).
Kamehameha built heiaus for his gods (Ruling Chiefs 179).
Kamehameha established yearly feasts as a time of rest from
labor [. . .] (Ruling Chiefs 180).
He was a patient chief and did not instantly avenge an injury
(Ruling Chiefs 181).
Kamehameha respected his wives and gave them wealth and
honor (Ruling Chiefs 183).

Fornander adds to this reputation.

He ‘lii naauao loa o Kamehameha, he ‘lii hana pololei, he ‘lii
oluolu, he ‘lii lokomaikai, he ‘lii malama kanaka (V: 477).

Kamehameha was a very wise king, and was honest,

kind, charitable and humane (V: 476).

There are a lot of stories about Kamehameha that underscore

these points.
The first concerns an old man whom Kamehameha had
overheard praying before drinking his ‘awa. The old man concluded
his prayer asking for the preservation of the life of Kamehameha,
“Let Kamehameha, the good king, live to be old [. . .].” Kamehameha
appeared and asked for some ‘awa to drink but was told by the old
man that he had used his last bits and pieces and had no more.
216    Alaka‘i

Kamehameha promised the old man that he would share “a little

‘awa” with him and then commanded that a huge amount of ‘awa,
food, and kapa (clothing) be sent to the old man (Kamakau, Ruling
Chiefs 182).
Kamakau then tells us, “At another time Kamehameha saw
an old man with his grandson on his way home” carrying a heavy
load of kī roots. Kamehameha wanted to help the old man carry
the load, but the old man believed that Kamehameha was a robber,
and he invoked the kapu ‘law’ that Kamehameha had proclaimed
prohibiting robbery and the molesting of old people. The old man
declared when asked if Kamehameha is a good chief, “Yes, Pai‘ea
is a good chief. He makes the old man and the old woman to sleep
[without fear] by the roadside. He is a good chief; it is his favorites
who are bad and rob others” (Ruling Chiefs 182–183). When
Kamehameha had put down the old man’s load, he told the old man
not to mention to anyone that this deed had been done. When the
old man was overtaken by some of Kamehameha’s people, they asked
the old man if he had seen Kamehameha pass by, and then the old
man realized that it was Kamehameha who had carried his load.
Another short story about Kamehameha was contributed by Mary
Kawena Pukui to Laura Green’s collection of folklore. It took place
after the conquest of O‘ahu when a young warrior in Kamehameha’s
forces claimed to be the “youngest brother” of Kamehameha. His
claim was treated as a loud boast, and the young warrior was reported
to Kamehameha. The chief sent for the young warrior and in a loud
voice said, “Listen! is it true, this thing that I have heard, that you,
boaster, have called me, the king, your elder brother?” (Green 31).
The young warrior said that it is true, and Kamehameha was
surprised and asked who told him so. The young warrior exclaimed
that it was none other than Kamehameha himself when he declared
in his rally cry, “ ‘Forward, my brothers, till you drink the bitter
waters!’ [. . .] When the king heard this just reasoning, he laughed
and bade his retainers prepare a feast for his youngest brother”
(Green 33).
Although Kamehameha was in his later years when he received
the Russian explorer Golovnin, the captain noted the following
characteristics of the aged chief and now king.
 No Nā Mamo  217

Tameamea is already very old; he claims to be seventy-

nine years of age. [ . . . ] he is alert, strong and active,
temperate and sober, never takes strong drink, and eats
very moderately. In him one observes a most amazing
mixture of childish behavior and ripe judgment and
actions that would not disgrace even a European ruler.
His honesty and love of justice are demonstrated by his
behavior. (192)

It should be pretty clear that the idea of pono is much broader in

its meaning than can be described by a single word like just or fair. In
the closing to ‘Ano Lani, I suggested that pono is at the root of what
Hawaiian leadership is about, “its relationship of rights, privileges
and responsibility to the people” (Ching, Chun, and Pitzer 140).
Malo sums up this broader description of pono in leadership.
If the maka‘āinana knew of the mistakes (hewa) of the
ali‘i who did wrong, then the maka‘āinana also knew of
the righteous ali‘i who truly did pono.

The ali‘i who slept a lot (hiamoe loa), who indulged in

pleasures and sports (puni le‘ale‘a), and who was always
arguing, was accused as being cursed, greedy, stingy and
tight.

The ali‘i who was moderate, kind, hono mālie [quiet in

manner-Emerson’s translation], humble, patient, was
an ali‘i greatly desired by the maka‘āinana and greatly
beloved.

The ali‘i who did wrong while ruling was not a bit beloved
by all the people of his chiefdom. But the ali‘i who did
make things better while ruling was continually beloved.

The ali‘i who made things better while ruling was liked to
a powerful person, because of his true pono [goodness].
The ali‘i who spoke badly of another ali‘i was hewa [at
fault], because of what he said.

If an ali‘i ‘ai moku spoke badly about another ali‘i ‘ai

moku, then only the ali‘i who spoke badly was at fault to
218    Alaka‘i

the ali‘i who had nothing to do with it (noho mālie) [lit.,

to be still].

Therefore, the ali‘i who made things better while ruling

was never accused [of anything]. That was how things
were from the old days until now. (269)

Today we face a situation where increasing numbers of divergent

groups claim sovereignty and leadership. Added to this is the outside
pressure by media- and American-influenced politics for a unified
Native Hawaiian response and plan. Today’s challenges demand the
kind of traditional leadership formulated by Kamehameha.
But what makes his legacy and style of leadership seem nearly
impossible to duplicate is that it has become legendary.
The night before Kamehameha was born, we are told, a comet
was seen in the Hawaiian sky. Kamakau tells us, “It is said that there
was rain, thunder, and lightning on the night when Kamehameha
was born” (Ruling Chiefs 68). He also says “[t]he night was very
rainy. It was hard to find a fit place for the birth, and it was hence on
one of the lanai adjoining the guest-house that the mother suffered
the first pains of childbirth” (Ruling Chiefs 67).
Then Kamakau adds more drama to this account.
A numerous guard had been set to await the time of birth.
The chiefs kept awake with the guards [for a time], but
due to the rain and the cold, the chiefs fell asleep, and
near daybreak Ke-ku‘i-apo-iwa went into the house and,
turning her face to the side of the house at the gable end,
braced her feet against the wall. A certain stranger was
outside the house listening, and when he heard the sound
of the last bearing-down pain (kuakoko), he lifted the
thatch at the side of the house, and made a hole above.
As soon as the child was born, had slipped down upon
the tapa spread out to receive it, and Ke-ku‘i-apo-iwa
had stood up and let the afterbirth (ewe) come away, he
covered the child in the tapa and carried it away. When the
chiefs awoke they were puzzled at the disappearance of the
child. Kohala was searched that day and houses burned.
(Ruling Chiefs 67)
 No Nā Mamo  219

The heightened drama of this birth and the reason for the
disappearance of the new-born baby comes from the words of a rival
chief, Keawemauhili.
Pinch off the tip of the young mulberry [wauke] shoot.
(Desha 26)

To the modern, and somewhat Hollywood-influenced, mind,

this smacks of those heroic, greater-than-life scenes of Moses in the
basket among the reeds. Some of the stories of Kamehameha’s youth
and early adult life—the moving of the Naha stone that fulfilled
a prophecy of greatness, or the fending off of the spears of forty
warriors—might have come from the feats of Hercules for their sheer
strength, daring, and bravery or from the legends of King Arthur.

This engraving shows Kamehameha warding off the spears of many warriors.

The point of these traditions is not whether they are right

or wrong. These traditions were told and embellished to give
Kamehameha all the qualities of a demi-god embodied in a chief and
leader. In many ways, it is a similar approach to that of the writers
of the Christian gospels who sought to emphasize the fulfillment of
220    Alaka‘i

the words of the prophets of the Old Testament in the life of Jesus of
Nazareth, or of the scribes who told of the compassionate deeds of
Buddha.
I wrote the following ten years ago about the fabled image of
Kamehameha.
By immortalizing Kamehameha to mythical proportions
we have also idealized his standards of leadership and
conduct, his pono, as the measure of leadership in the
Native Hawaiian community. [. . .]

Unlike ali‘i before him, Kamehameha forged a new

way of governance that might meet the challenges
enabling his people to survive in a greater world, but one
based in continuity with traditions. The success of that
formulation has challenged each generation since his
time to uphold or surpass it, until there comes another
who will remake it in a way never done before. Until that
time his pono endures.

Perhaps during a night that is very rainy, when there

is thunder and lightning, in what the people of old
called ‘Ikuwā, the season of the roaring surf, thunder
and cloudbursts, the din and voices of the gods
in the elements, another child will be born to the
hushed whispers of, ‘Is this the one? Is this the next
Kamehameha?’ (Ching, Chun, and Pitzer 143)

This idealization, and now myth, of Kamehameha is still very

pervasive and may take on further epic and popular proportions with
the promise of two Hollywood-style biographical movies about him.
However, it would be clear to anyone who thought about it that
Kamehameha was only human, and it is not hard, if we look a bit
closer at the accounts of his life, to discover his frailties and faults.
One of the younger wives of Kamehameha informed Hiram Bingham
of his abusive nature.
Kalakua, the late governess of Maui, who gave me much
of Kamehameha’s domestic history, says of him, ‘He
kanaka pepehi no ia; aole mea e ana ai kona inaina.
 No Nā Mamo  221

He was a man of violence,—nothing would pacify his

wrath.’

And,
[Kalakua] said she was once beaten by him, with a
stone, upon her head, till she bled profusely, when in
circumstances demanding his kindest indulgence and
care, as a husband. (Bingham 54)

In 1809, the same year her father had died, Ka‘ahumanu, it

was reported, took a young lover. He was Kanihonui, a nephew of
Kamehameha through his half-sister, Kalanikaulihiwakama on their
mother’s side (Keku‘iapoiwa).
Ka-‘ahu-manu was under the influence of liquor
when she first gave way to her desire and, ignoring
Kamehameha’s prohibition, slept with Ka-niho-nui;
and she continued this practice while Kamehameha was
away worshiping in the god house until the guard [. . .]
finally informed the chief; and Ka-niho-nui was put to
death. [. . .] He was a great favorite with Kamehameha
and with all the chiefs as well, for he was unusually
good-looking, finely formed from head to foot [. . .]. He
was just nineteen [. . .]. It was wrong in Kamehameha
to put the boy to death, but he was killed not only for
breaking the law for taking the property of another.
Kamehameha [. . .] feared lest, if Ka-‘ahu-manu had a
lover among the chiefs, it would lead to her rebelling
against his rule, drawing her relatives away with her, and
thus destroying the commoners. There was a rumor that
rebellion was brewing, and hence he put his own [foster]
son to death in order to put fear into the hearts of the
chiefs. (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 194)

Kamehameha used a similar strategy of imposing fear upon a

population during his war campaigns. It was this fear held by the
commoners of the raiding parties of Kamehameha that led to his
near death in Puna at the hands of the fishermen there. Kamakau
gives a short version of the event.
222    Alaka‘i

[. . .] Kamehameha and Ka-haku‘i paddled to Papa‘i

and on to Kea‘au in Puna where some men and women
were fishing, and a little child sat on the back of one of
the men. Seeing them about to go away, Kamehameha
leaped from his canoe intending to catch and kill the
men, but they all escaped with the women except two
men who stayed to protect the man with the child.
During the struggle Kamehameha caught his foot in a
crevice of the rock and was stuck fast; and the fishermen
beat him over the head with a paddle. Had it not been
that one of the men was hampered with the child and
their ignorance that this was Kamehameha with whom
they were struggling, Kamehameha would have been
killed that day. This quarrel was named Ka-lele-iki,
and from the striking of Kamehameha’s head with a
paddle came the law of Mamala-hoe (Broken paddle) for
Kamehameha.*[2] (Ruling Chiefs 125–126)

A slightly different version was re-told nearly a hundred years

later by Desha. In this version, Kamehameha peacefully attempted to
converse with the people of the area.
We entered there because we saw some fisher-folk
mending their nets. However, the remarkable thing was
that when they saw us they ran away. I attempted to call
to them, but they would not listen and only increased
their speed. (214)

This revisionist history should not surprise us, as it is common

with the stories of Kamehameha. Another famous, or infamous,
example is the kapu Kamehameha placed upon the cattle given to
him by Captain Vancouver, which protected them and allowed them
free range. The end result was an environmental disaster, a part of
Kamehameha’s legacy that is not often recounted.
The pervasiveness of the myth of Kamehameha as an ideal
leader makes it hard for us to tease out those qualities that defined
traditional leadership, and especially with Kamehameha, to really
see what it was about him that made his contemporaries describe
him as pono. Add to this the fact that the myth is still being created,
 No Nā Mamo  223

and it becomes even harder. In the popular contemporary song

Hawaii 78, written by Mickey Ioane and recorded by the late Israel
Kamakawiwo‘ole, we see another layer of the myth being added when
the song talks about highways and condominiums, traffic lights and
the modern city life and asks “how would he feel if he saw Hawai‘i
now” (Kamakawiwo‘ole 8–10). It goes on to imply that he would be
devastated by the Hawai‘i of today, projecting a modern sense of loss
onto him as a logical extension of his pono. And yet, when we go
back to the writings of Kamakau we find quite a different image.
How would it be to have a steam engine at Hilo to make
salt until the land is full to overflowing? Or if a steam
engine could spout clouds of steam, that would descend
and irrigate the mountains of Hualalai so that Kailua
might become a land of rivers. That would delight
Kamehameha as a result of changing old things for new.
(Ruling Chiefs 409)

In the current political atmosphere of overt morality, could a

personage like Kamehameha survive? Would his strong leadership
overcome his frailties? Would he be electable?
We know the legacy of the virtues of pono was exemplified by
Kamehameha’s grandson and heir, Kamehameha IV when he and
his wife, Queen Emma, personally solicited funds from the citizens
of Honolulu to build a hospital that would serve a greater population
than private doctors could. The monarchs would establish the
beginnings of royal patronage that would provide for the social,
educational, medical, and spiritual care of Native Hawaiians and
those less fortunate in the islands. The institutions they started still
exist today as the ali‘i trusts of Bernice Pauahi Bishop, King Lunalilo,
Queen Emma, and Queen Lili‘uokalani.
If pono really means that much to the culture, then it ought to be
taught and held in great esteem. This appears to be happening more
today than just a few years ago. But where in the educational system,
formal or ‘ohana ‘familial,’ is it being allowed to be practiced and
nurtured? You can teach so-called “values,” but if there is no daily
application or recognition, then why bother? And the situation gets
worse when you consider the political realities that face traditional
224    Alaka‘i

This portrait of Kamehameha IV and Queen Emma soliciting funds for the building of Queen’s
Hospital was based upon accounts of their going into the streets of Honolulu

leadership today. Because our government structure today is not

culturally based, there is a sharp divide, and an inherent inequality,
between popularly elected officials and traditional leaders. Trustees
for the Office of Hawaiian Affairs are popularly elected like any
other political office-holder, and trustees for the major ali‘i trusts are
selected through the court system. Because they are incorporated in
the state, these, and other, organizations use a system of selecting
their leaders that is not culturally based. Traditional leadership can
never be practiced and nurtured in such an environment where the
venues for it to exist and thrive are so limited and marginalized.
If the idea and ideal of traditional leadership are to have any signifi-
cant influence upon our lives, then it must be consciously cultivated.
Traditional leadership needs to be taught and transmitted to
future generations as the way to live and govern.

As Kamehameha had learned the traditions of the chiefs,

probably when he was young, so he passed them down to his own
 No Nā Mamo  225

son and heir, Liholiho. Through ‘Ī‘ī’s recollections we know that

Kamehameha realized that Liholiho had come to understand the
responsibility of traditional leadership after some sought to have
Kamehameha removed for the death of Ka‘ahumanu’s favorite,
Kanihonui. Kamehameha’s response to Liholiho’s decision was this.
‘He is indeed a chief. He did not side with his guardian
although he knew everything that had gone on. He chose
patience rather than the kingdom. That is the nature of a
true chief.’ (Ii 51)

An environment where traditional leadership can be

nurtured and practiced needs to be established.

Kamakau asked, “But upon emerging from the school and

seeking a place in which to show their skill, what do they find?
[. . .] All this learning concerning the circuit of the sun, the planets,
the comet, and the nature of the atmosphere of the heavens, even
delving down the bowels of the earth like a spider—of what good is
it? Where is it leading?” (Ruling Chiefs 375). In the same way, today
we can ask where we will find opportunities for traditional leadership
to be practiced. In other Pacific Island societies, there are councils
of chiefs and elders where debate and decision-making are practiced
and refined. In such environments, observers can see and hear how
speech is used and how decisions are reached through counseling
together. The practice of ho‘oponopono used the skills of traditional
leadership. But who and where are the traditional leaders, or haku, in
the ‘ohana today?
Traditional leadership needs to be held in esteem, and
traditional leaders recognized as equal to, or greater than,
elected politicians and popular celebrities.

Kamakau tells us that when Kamehameha sent Ha‘alo‘u to

meet the prophet Kapoukahi, “Ha‘alo‘u knew that no man who
understands deep things should go unrecompensed [. . .]” (Ruling
Chiefs 149). But today what is the reward for traditional leadership
and wisdom? In the rarest instances it appears to be a piece of paper,
called an award, and maybe a large wooden calabash or ornamental
226    Alaka‘i

digging stick (‘ō‘ō). Is that enough to sustain and encourage the

pursuit of traditional leadership?
The priest-prophet Ka‘opulupulu advised his ruling chief
Kahahana that,
‘Elua na‘e alanui o ke ali‘i e hele ai e ka‘apuni i ka ‘āina.
1. ‘O kēia alanui lā, he alanui ‘au‘a kēia, ‘o [ka] mākia
huli honua aupuni kēia, pa‘a ke aupuni, ‘a‘ohe e naue. 2.
‘O kēia alanui lā, he alanui lā, he alanui hā‘awi aupuni
kēia i waho. (Kamakau, Ke Kumu Aupuni 86)

There are two roads for the chief to take about the island,
one which will support the dominion and make it fast so
that it shall remain fixed and immovable, a second which
will give the dominion to others. (Kamakau, Ruling
Chiefs 134)

The same advice should be heeded when asked why traditional

leadership is still necessary in these modern times.

Endnotes
1
Ke Au ‘Oko‘a, Jan. 12, 1871.
2
Ka Nupepa Ku‘oko‘a, Mar. 9, 1867.
 No Nā Mamo  227

9 Kākā‘ōlelo
Traditions of Oratory and Speech Making
The composers of genealogical chants such as ko‘ihonua,
ha‘ikupuna, and kamakua, were men learned in the art who
knew the family lines and were skilled in oratory and state-craft.
Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs of Hawaii

Those skilled in speaking and
crafts (hana maoli) were called no‘eau and no‘iau.
Malo, Ka Mo‘olelo Hawai‘i


‘O ka po‘e kālai‘āina a me ka po‘e kākā‘ōlelo, ua nalowale

loa lākou, akā, he po‘e akamai kaulana loa lākou
ma ka ho‘oponopono loea ‘ana i ke aupuni.
Kamakau, Ke Kumu Aupuni

To a Maori there is a feeling of disappointment with Honolulu.
One would like to stand up on a marae and make a speech
but this is the area of the Pakeha. There are plenty of Hawaiians
here as tram conductors, policemen and other positions.
Sir Peter Te Rangi Hiroa Buck to Sir Apirana Ngata,
27 August 1927

The Gospel according to John begins “In the beginning was the
Word [. . .].” The missionary translators for this Gospel chose to use
the original Greek logos instead of a Hawaiian word. Perhaps they
thought the closest equivalent, ‘ōlelo, did not express the depth of the
word, although translators in Tahiti and Aotearoa (New Zealand)
chose to use native terms. It could be that the missionaries here did
not learn from their Hawaiian assistants of the proverb “I ka ‘ōlelo
no ke ola, i ka ‘ōlelo no ka make” (Pukui, ‘Ōlelo No‘eau 129) ‘In the
word is life and in the word is death’ (Author’s translation), which
emphasizes the care one needs to place upon what one says and how
one says it and on the reliance given to the spoken word.
In a society with no written language—with perhaps the exception
of petrogylphs, images, and symbols carved onto lava—what one said,
what one remembered, and what one passed on were survival itself. It
is said that priests had to memorize all prayers and chants and had to
recite them without flaw, else the invocation would not be answered.
228    Kākā‘ōlelo

This might explain why there is a pause during the high ceremonies
on the temples when the priest turns to the high chief and asks a very
simple question, “How have the prayers been?” And the high chief
answers whether everything had been done all right or not.
Speaking, or speech making, is still a very powerful, respected,
and vital part of the culture of the Pacific Islands. In the Western
Polynesian islands of Sāmoa, Tonga, and Fiji, orators are esteemed
as messengers of wisdom, politics, and culture. In Aotearoa they
captivate the attention of locals and visitors on the marae, or the
traditional grounds, of Māori meeting houses.
In the Cook Islands the orator of the ariki (high chief)
was termed the va‘a-tuatua (speaking mouth). In Tahiti
the office was termed orero (speech). [. . .] Specialization
reached its highest in Samoa where a class of hereditary
talking chiefs termed tulafale developed. (Buck 166)

In Hawaiian traditions, oratory has been nearly forgotten and

hardly studied. Although the importance of Hawaiian language is
demonstrated by the increasing number of immersion schools in the
state, what one says and how one speaks have yet to be rediscovered.
The title kākā‘ōlelo is commonly thought of in its biblical usage
as a scribe, someone who records information. Today kākā‘ōlelo is
more commonly translated as secretary. However, kākā‘ōlelo is the
traditional title for an orator, and it is derived from the words kākā
meaning to “strike, smite, dash, beat, chop [. . .]” and ‘ōlelo, “to
speak” (Pukui and Elbert 1986: 117, 284). Kākā‘ōlelo literally means
“to fence [with] words” (119), which sounds more like what lawyers
do in courtrooms or politicians do during debates, and reveals how
we still use oratory or public speaking today to persuade others.
Furthermore, Buck adds that in Hawai‘i “the kaka-olelo seems to
have had the additional function of relating historical stories for the
entertainment of the chiefs” (166).
In his article on Polynesian oratory, Buck also noted that
“[t]he ancient procedure in Hawaii, where matter-of-fact customs
of Western civilization have replaced it, offers an interesting line of
study for some student” (167). However, since that time, it appears
no one has pursued that challenge, perhaps because our primary
 No Nā Mamo  229

Hawaiian resources, like the writings of the nineteenth century

scholars Malo, Kamakau, and ‘Ī‘ī, have little to offer about kākā‘ōlelo.

Oratory in Polynesia
The importance of the orator’s position and craft in Hawai‘i can
be detected by looking carefully at other Pacific Island cultures where
we may be able to identify elements similar to those seen in our
traditional society.
Among the Māori, oratory “has always been a main avenue for
the achievement and exercise of power,” and “oratory remains a key
technique for persuasion and policy-making” (Salmond, “Mana”
45–46). This is emphasized in the criteria Māori use for those who
are orators.
Whaikoorero is governed by an elaborate series of
regulations, which vary from tribe to tribe and which
stress its dignity as a style of speech. Speakers must
qualify by age, seniority of birth (i.e., a younger brother
or sons of a living father should not speak), and
competence in the conventions of whaikoorero, before
they may venture to stand upon the marae. Women
are strictly prohibited to speak in most areas, and any
infraction of this rule is summarily punished. (Salmond,
“Mana” 47)

The function of orators in Sāmoa is similar where they “pride

themselves on their cunning and cleverness. If he wishes to accrue
fame, power, and goods, an orator must be continually ‘on the move,’
seeking arenas for political and oratorical encounters” (Shore 244).
While oratory shares this sense of status throughout the Pacific, in
traditional times orators had both rank and status.
It is hinted that there was a traditional class of orators in Māori
society. “The rangatira was an executive chief, chosen for his ability
in warfare and oratory, and senior descent was not essential for this
role” (Salmond, Hui 13). Orators (‘orero) in Tahiti were sometimes
chiefs who spoke for themselves, while others had staff orators
to present their ceremonial greetings, public announcements,
parliamentary exhortations, and so forth, for them (Oliver 1,031).
230    Kākā‘ōlelo

Oliver gives this example dated 1799.

This afternoon the natives held a public meeting near the
British house when the peace between Otoo, Pomerre, &
this district was again ratified & confirmed. As all public
business is transacted between persons called Taaoraro
or orators, the speakers for Otoo & Pomerre were seated
on the ground, opposite to each other, about 15 yards
asunder, each having a bunch of green leaves in his
hand, (perhaps) as tokens of peace; and there harangued
upon the subject of their meeting. The spectators kept at
a proper distance. Otoo was present, but did not seem to
take much notice of what was doing. (1,031)

Oliver gives a description of the Tahitian orator that is consistent

throughout the Pacific Islands as having “[a]n impressive presence, a
sonorous and tireless voice, mental agility, a memory full of striking
imagery, a knowledge of social etiquette and political realities—all
of these were essential to effective oratory in the domain of tribal
affairs” (1,031). However, he adds that it is not “clear just who such
staff orators were” (1,031). He hints that they were probably not from
the lower classes and more likely chiefly relatives. He also adds that
it is not clear “how they were compensated for their labors, if indeed
they were compensated directly in the form of deliberate payment for
services” (1,031).
The role of orators in Sāmoa is much more clearly defined.
In Sāmoa they are “titled,” that is, they are of a class or rank of
men among chiefs who hold a certain title or name. Buck visited
American Sāmoa in 1927 and quickly came to understand the
function and relationship of the chiefs and their talking chiefs. He
wrote to Ngata describing his observation.
If a chief’s party went on a trip round the island (a
malaga it is called), his party had to know the fa‘alupega
of each village. Under such conditions, it can be
readily understood that the duty of attending to the
ceremonial speeches, division of food etc, became
entrusted to particular chiefs. They became the talking
chiefs or tulafale and in time attended to all the business
 No Nā Mamo  231

and ceremonial aspects of village life. The office also

became hereditary and in time the tulafale added
to the ceremonial and rendered himself absolutely
indispensible to the social organisation. In fact the
high chief became a figure head and the tulafale the
counsellors and real rulers of the tribe. They are the
scholars and keepers of the tribal lore. The tulafale
apportioned the amount of food each family head, matai,
had to contribute to the village feasts etc. He was in
close absolute touch with the community and with the
other tulafale in the village, he ruled the roost. The fines
and penalties for infringement of law and custom were
adjudicated upon by the tulafale. (Sorrenson I: 57)

What Buck observed continues today as another anthropologist,

Bradd Shore, relates this particularly detailed account in which an
orator (tulāfale) describes his role.
The tulāfale really suffers in his service to the ali‘i. The
ali‘i just sits, and the only hardship he suffers is the
giving of money and mats to the orator. But the orator—
if he hears that guests have arrived, he is off in a flash to
greet them. [. . .]

He comes back with the ālaga [leg joint of pork reserved

for senior orators]. [. . .] It’s the hard work that wins
the handout [lafoga]. That thing called an ali‘i, we really
have pity for him, for he gets only poverty. The ali‘i—he
gives away and gives away, but the orator gets everything
for free. He gets his money, fine mats, tapa cloths. The
ali‘i, he just stays put, sits still, and suffers for giving
everything to the orator. (244)

Given these clearly defined roles, one would think the

relationship between the ali‘i and the tulāfale would be formal and
clear, but Shore points out it is far from that. “Within village affairs,
the fale‘upolu (body of orators) has interests that are remote from
any specific tie with ali‘i. The balance between the active, functional
role of the orators and the more passive dignity of the ali‘i is often
unstable” (244).
232    Kākā‘ōlelo

Another of Shore’s informants, described as “an elderly ali‘i with

a particularly acute analytical capacity” (242), gave this description of
the differences between ali‘i and tulāfale.
The separation between the tulāfale and the ali‘i happened
like this. This is my opinion on the matter. There are
two things within each person: the power to command
[fa‘atonuga] and the power to execute those commands
[fa‘ataunu‘uga]. Each person has both of these potential
powers. This is how that class, the tulāfale, became
important. They were not, in the old days, called tulāfale.
But that title began with the Tui Manu‘a when he said to
those bearers, “I shall call you tulāfale and I shall assign to
you the job of realizing or executing my dignity [la‘u afio].
So that the Tui Manu‘a held on to the pule [authority/
secular power], but the realization of that pule was given to
these other men.

[. . .] Today we have this group of people called tulāfale who

are like slaves, because of what happened in Manu‘a. We
have the class of tulāfale. These men carried the dignity of
the Tui Manu‘a. Things have changed since those days, but
that is how we have today people who give the orders, and
people who carry them out. (emphasis in original) (242)

It is apparent from Shore’s work that Samoan orators wield great

power and influence in their society, although he also states that
the balance between the orator and the ali‘i is occasionally upset.
A possible solution to this problem for some villages has been the
combination of both titles, a tulāfale-ali‘i.
He [a tulāfale-ali‘i] may speak on his behalf, holding
flywhisk and staff as any senior orator would. He also
has certain rights associated with ali‘i status, such as a
special kava name, a taupou title, the right to sit at the
matua tala (front post) of the meeting house or to wear
a tuiga (headdress). The tulāfale-ali‘i may give away fine
mats and money as an ali‘i, but he may also receive them
in his capacity as orator. The dual status enables the chief
to keep a tighter control over his political and economic
affairs. (Shore 245)
 No Nā Mamo  233

Hawaiian Orators: The Kālaimoku

While a single person may function as both tulāfale and ali‘i
in Sāmoa, he does not function in both roles at the same time.
Hawaiian scholar Davida Malo described a similar relationship for
the Hawaiian ali‘i and his head counselor, the kālaimoku. In fact,
Malo’s only reference to the role of an orator is in reference to the
kālaimoku, which is surprisingly quite similar to the description of
the Māori rangatira: “The person skilled in the oratory [kākā‘ōlelo] of
the chiefdom was the kālaimoku [. . .],” and “Those skilled in speaking
[‘ōlelo] and crafts (hana maoli) were called no‘eau and no‘iau” (178).
Malo says that, like the tulāfale, the kālaimoku and the kahuna
pule ki‘i ‘priest in charge of the prayers of the images or gods’ “ran
the chiefdom. They guided the head [ali‘i nui] of the chiefdom to
where they had thought it was best [to go]” (258). Malo says that
the kālaimoku was in charge of matters concerning war and the
protection of the things of the ali‘i nui(’s) chiefdom.
The authority and influence of the kālaimoku appears to be
greater than that of other ali‘i, although the kālaimoku did not
necessarily have to be an ali‘i. Malo tells us that when the ali‘i nui
consulted with his chiefs, he may or may not have taken their advice.
If the ali‘i nui recognized what one ali‘i of his said, for
it was similar to his kālaimoku(s’) advice that had been
secretly heard, then the ali‘i nui agreed to this ali‘i(’s)
words. If the ali‘i nui knew that what the ali‘i(s) had to
say was not like the advice of the kālaimoku(s), then the
ali‘i did not agree with them. That is how the ‘aha ‘ōlelo
[council of chiefs] of the ali‘i(s) was held. (267)

Kamakau also associates the role of the “orator” with giving

advice and counsel. He suggests that the kākā‘ōlelo had been
schooled not only in the history and deeds of former and present
chiefs but also in the words they had used.
Some time ago your servant (kauwa) sent for some of
the old people who had lived in the time of Ka-hekili
and of Kamehameha I, and we talked about how the
government was administered in their day. The old
234    Kākā‘ōlelo

men said, “In the time of Kamehameha the orators

(po‘e kaka‘olelo) were the only ones who spoke before
the ruling chief, those who were learned in the words
spoken by the chiefs who had lived before his day. When
the chief asked, ‘What chief has done evil to the land,
and what chief good?’ then the orators alone were able to
relate the deeds of the chiefs of old, those who did good
deeds and those who did evil deeds, and the king would
try to act as the chiefs acted who did good deeds in the
past.” (Ruling Chiefs 399)

The chiefs disputed about the succession while

Kamehameha was living, and Kamehameha asked the
opinion of men skilled in genealogies and of the orators
and those who knew about government in ancient days.
Some of the chiefs and governors thought that the old
standards should not count in the succession. But the
skilled men told Kamehameha that in order to keep
the kingdom united as he left it and prevent its falling
to pieces at his death, he must consolidate it under one
ruler and must leave it to an heir who was in the ruling
line from his ancestors. (Ruling Chiefs 429)

The actual functions of the kākā‘ōlelo are known in detail,

particularly the actions of Nā‘ili and Nāmaka, described in more
detail in the chapter on Ho‘oponopono. Nā‘ili was an ali‘i ‘chief ’
of Wai‘anae, said to be “kekahi kanaka akamai i ke kākā‘ōlelo”
(Kamakau, Ke Kumu Aupuni 7) ‘a person skilled in oratory’ who
intervenes in a battle between the chiefs of Maui and Hawai‘i against
O‘ahu. He was able to disengage the battle, meet with each side to
broker a joint meeting, and then broker peace, not just an end to the
fighting. Nā‘ili is able to accomplish this remarkable task because of
his understanding of genealogies and relationships.
Nā‘ili was the brother of a woman named Kamaka‘imoku, who
was the older relation of the chiefs of Maui and Hawai‘i, in particular
Kalani‘ōpu‘u and Keōua. This is an important piece of information
because those two chiefs were fighting on the side of the invading
chief of Hawai‘i named Alapa‘i against the O‘ahu chief named
Peleiōhōlani. The second piece of information Nā‘ili knew is that the
 No Nā Mamo  235

warring chiefs were related, for the name of Keōua had been given
by Peleiōhōlani (Kamakau, Ke Kumu Aupuni 7, 62). This cessation of
conflict also added to the repertoire of orators, Kamakau noted.
I ka pau ‘ana o ka hana ku‘ikahi e ho‘opau i ke kaua,
ho‘i maila ‘o Peleiōhōlani me kāna kākā‘ōlelo, ‘o Nā‘ili,
me kona mau ali‘i a me kona mau koa ma Ko‘olau o
Moloka‘i. No laila i ‘ōlelo kaena iho ai ka po‘e kākā‘ōlelo
o Hawai‘i, me ko Maui, “ ‘O Peleiōhōlani, ke keiki a Kū,
o Hāna.” (Ke Kumu Aupuni 11)

At the end of the war Kamehameha-nui became ruling

chief of Maui. Pele-io-holani retired to Ko‘olau on
Molokai with his adviser [kākā‘ōlelo] Na-‘ili and his
chiefs and fighting men. The counselors [kākā‘ōlelo] of
both Hawaii and Maui boasted, “Pele-io-holani, the son
of Ku, belongs to Hana!” (Ruling Chiefs 75)

While visiting the islands in 1840, Captain Charles Wilkes was

able to obtain a bit of information about a class of genealogist-
historians whose counsel would provide sound leadership.
[. . .] the influence of a certain class of men whose
business it was to give instruction and rehearse the
proverbs handed down from their ancestors. These men
often prophesied that judgment would follow if these
were neglected; but, notwithstanding, as may readily be
supposed, bad rulers contrived to evade the taboos and
rules [. . .] (IV: 35–36)

We are able to have a sense of the role of the orator in traditional

Hawaiian society from such bits and pieces of information. We have
to do the same gathering of information in order to understand what
they said; what they meant; and why people, especially the ruling
chiefs, listened, or did not listen, to them. It is from the remembered
(sometimes brief) speeches and responses that we can detect some of
the meaning, the emphasis, the wording, and the arts of traditional
oratory. We can discover the structure of oratory by first looking
once again to other areas of Polynesia.
236    Kākā‘ōlelo

The Structure of Oratory in Aotearoa and Sāmoa

There is a structure to Polynesian oratory. Māori oratory has the
following generic descriptions, for there are regional variations, of
the basic elements found in whaikōrero: A speech may begin with a
whakaarara or whakatūpato, a loud warning or shout invoked by the
speaker, which is followed by a tauparapara or chant that “establish[es]
the orator’s claim to esoteric knowledge.” [. . .] However, “[t]hese
tau are not always used; on informal occasions they are not really
appropriate, and some speakers do not know any” (Salmond, Hui 160).

A Māori kaumatua, or elder, speaking in the marae meeting house in Waikato, Aotearoa.

The main body of the whaikōrero, as Salmond notes, is “still

highly stylised, but unlike the opening chants it is not completely
predictable in wording [. . .]. Skilled orators use poetic sayings with
an off-hand deftness [. . .]. They coin poetry of their own, or launch
into vivid, witty prose, leaving aside the standard structures altogether”
(Hui 164–165). However, Salmond concludes that “[t]he usual patterns
are, all the same, extremely important. They dominate the great
majority of speeches and give whaikōrero its poetic, structured quality.
The use of these phrases, plus a predictable broad sequence of topics,
make a general study of whaikōrero possible” (Hui 165).
 No Nā Mamo  237

By comparison, in Samoan oratory ‘lāuga,’ there appear to

be distinctions that depend on the place it is delivered, such as at
ceremonies or meetings.
In ceremonial exchanges, the delivery of the lauga is
both presented and received with particular attention to
all details that enhance the sacred nature of the occasion
and make everyone proud of participating in it. In a fono
[meeting] however both the speaker and the audience
are less concerned with performance per se and some
of the canons of verbal art are lifted. . . participants are
too worried about what is coming next. The delivery of
the lauga in a fono is more like a ‘job’ that needs to get
done than an honor or occasion for the proud display of
verbal skills. (Mallon 133)

According to Mallon, who is basing his chapter on the works of

two scholars, Tatupu Fa‘afetai Mata‘afa Tu‘i and Alessandro Duranti,
there are several parts, or vāega, to Samoan oratory. “The structure
works as a guide or framework that the orator will work with to suit
the requirements of the occasion” (133). The following is compiled
from the work of both scholars.

1. Folasaga (also called tuvaoga or paepae-ulufanua) – the

introduction or opening address, which includes the
fa‘alupega, the ceremonial style and the address of an
individual, village or district.
2. ‘Ava – the kava presentation.
3. Fa‘afetai i le alofa o le atua – the references to ancestors and
the expressions of gratitude and thanks to God.
4. Taeao – literally, mornings. The recounting of important
events in Samoa’s history.
5. Pa‘ia – greetings of the sacred titles. A reminder of the power
of mythical historical figures and their descendants.
6. Faia or mataupu – the agenda.
7. Fa‘amatafiga o lagi – literally, the clearing of skies. The
wishing of good luck, peace and prosperity to the visitors and
then to the orator’s own party. (Mallon 133)
238    Kākā‘ōlelo

There are some common points in these two descriptions of

the structure of Polynesian oratory that we may expect to find in
Hawaiian literature. We must use some investigative insight and look
very carefully for clues, even the most circumstantial, as to where
a person was speaking, who they were speaking to or for, and how
people reacted to what they heard. We may also ask ourselves such
questions as why the speaker chose to say such things and whether he
or she could have said otherwise.

Patterns of Speech in Hawai‘i

A good example of what we are looking for can be found in the
speech given during the council of chiefs at Pohukaina in Honolulu
in 1830, where they had gathered to “discuss financial matters”
(Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 300), but what they heard were accusations
against Liliha, the guardian of the young King Kamehameha III.
Kamakau gives a detailed description of that event.

A few days later a council of chiefs was held at the

stone house at Pohukaina where were gathered chiefs,
commoners, and foreigners to discuss financial matters.
Three chiefesses spoke for the chiefs, Ke-ahi-kuni Ke-
kau-‘onohi, Ka-ho‘ano-ku Kina‘u, Kuini Liliha. Ke-kau-
‘onohi opened with the words which appear so often in
newspapers today and which I then heard for the first
time—“Hawaii of Keawe, Maui of Kama-lala-walu, Oahu
of Kakuhihewa, Kauai of Manokalanipo.” [. . .] Kina‘u
spoke in the same way. Then Liliha spoke to the people:
“Chiefs and people of my chief, hear me. The stink of
my name and that of my husband Boki has spread from
Hawaii to Kauai. It is said that we do evil and that we
have led the young king to do evil, and so he has been
taken away from me. But we are not guilty; it is the white
people and the naval officers who are guilty; it is they
who tempted the king, and the blame has been put upon
me. But I admit I have done wrong.” At these words
both native and foreigners shed tears. Then Ka-heihei-
malie, who had been sitting on the stairway during the
council, rose and spoke about the goodness of God and
 No Nā Mamo  239

urged the people to listen to the words of Ka-‘ahu-manu

and Kau-i-ke-aouli and of Nahi-‘ena‘ena. Then she
added, drawing a figure from the communal method
of fishing for swordfish, “In the time of Kamehameha
the fishermen swam together in a row, and if one got
out of line or lagged behind he was struck by the sharp
nose of the fish. So those who do not follow God’s word
and do not obey our king, but fall out of line, they shall
be struck by the sharp sword of the law, so do not lag
behind lest you be hurt.” As these words fell upon the
ears of the people, they applied them to Liliha and raised
an uproar and talked of war against Ka-‘ahu-manu and
the chiefs. (Ruling Chiefs 300–301)

We are told immediately that there was a very diverse audience

gathered, and this was a council of chiefs held at Pohukaina, in some
sort of large building, for some had been “sitting on the stairway
during the council” (Ruling Chiefs 300). The area called Pohukaina
is on the “Diamond Head” side of the ‘Iolani Palace grounds. There
are three women who speak. They are all chiefs, and each is allowed
to give an address. One of them begins her speech by poetically
referring to all the major islands and their respective historical
ruling chiefs. Kamakau says that this was the first time he had
ever heard that phrasing, but that it had become quite common in
local newspapers. Another form of this address was used again at
Pohukaina a few years later after the death of Ka‘ahumanu and was
recorded by ‘Ī‘ī.
When the king had left on his journey, Kinau gathered
the chiefs, the lesser chiefs, members of the court, and
the people at Pohukaina and began a proclamation to
them, “O you of Hawaii, great island of Keawe; Maui,
island of Kama; Oahu, of Kuihewa; and Kauai, of Mano
. . . Harken to this, you who are from great Hawaii, land
of Keawe, to Kauai, island of Mano. Our royal mother
Kaahumanu is dead [. . .].”

When Kinau finished speaking, Kekauluohi stood up to

speak. “Here am I, of Hawaii a Keawe, of Maui a Kama,
of Oahu a Kuihewa, and of Kauai a Mano. I add my
240    Kākā‘ōlelo

approval to the words we have just heard. Our makua

have gone on their journey, and we have inherited
their duties under the guidance of these children of
Kamehameha. What she has told us is to look after each
other’s welfare, and I approve of this.”

The multitude expressed their admiration of the two

who spoke, for none had ever heard these words before.
(159)

This clue shows how formal speeches were created with the use
of introductory poetic phrases or proverbs. In this case she uses the
major islands and chiefs to acknowledge all the people of the islands.
Kīna‘u’s introduction is answered by Kekāulu‘ohi, who gives her
support. It is most interesting that ‘Ī‘ī had noted the admiration of
the audience and that no one “had ever heard these words before”
(159). And so here we have an example of the use of an introductory
phrase or chant to open a speech, as seen in the Māori and Samoan
structure.
Returning to the third speaker in Kamakau’s account, we
see that Liliha’s speech is so powerful that it makes both natives
and foreigners cry. Why? In her speech she admits and accepts
responsibility for those wrongs. This is what is known as a mihi and
is deserving of the reaction she got; in fact, that response would be
expected in the process of ho‘oponopono.
Everything is not over, as we would expect, for suddenly from the
shadows, or rather from the stairway, another chief gets up to speak
and begins her speech referring to the “goodness of God” and to
words attributed to the ruling chiefs and the king himself (Kamakau,
Ruling Chiefs 300). These may have been used either to protect her
position or to give it a sense of legitimacy by using what was said
before to emphasize her point(s). However, she concludes by adding
a traditional proverb about communal fishing. Why does she add this
at the end of her speech?
This proverb appears to sum up the essence of what she was
saying about following the directives of the king and the chiefs. It is
the graphic illustration of her point. We can see, however, that the
audience has a different interpretation in mind once they have heard
 No Nā Mamo  241

the proverb, for they react in outrage with cries, not of emotion, but
for warfare and revenge. What happened in a matter of minutes,
and why is it that a few words strung together in such a manner can
emotionally pull people in radically different ways?
Kaheiheimālie’s use of this proverb to underscore the importance
of toeing the line enrages those listening to her because it seems to
contradict, or put down, Liliha’s previous honest and emotional
admittance of guilt. It is like a slap in the face, and the result is a cry
for war.
While some poetic phrases give an opening, the retention and use
of proverbs in speech making is also evidently a most powerful tool or
weapon. These proverbs appear to us today as quick phrases of color
and illustrative wisdom, but when they were spoken they were part
of a speech or conversation. Salmond remarks that “[i]n all speeches,
proverbs, historical and mythological allusions decorate the topical
structure, and although the audience can broadly predict its content,
still the artistry of its expression holds their interest” (Hui 171).

Hawaiian Proverbs as Remnants of Speech Making

Parts of many speeches remain with us today in the form of
proverbs. The motto used for the state of Hawai‘i is an example of
this idea of the evolution of such wise sayings. The phrase “Ua mau
ke ea o ka ‘āina i ka pono,” attributed to King Kamehameha III, is
well memorized, although perhaps not well translated or understood
in its original context. King Kamehameha III is reported to have said
this during a speech at Kawaiaha‘o Church after the ceremonies held
in an open field on the outskirts of Honolulu, a place now known as
Thomas Square. The occasion was the restoration of the sovereignty
of the kingdom following the illegal seizure and occupation by the
British under Captain Lord George Paulet. It is unfortunate that the
only records of the king’s speech that still exist are in accounts of the
events of that day, and this now famous proverb. What most people
have not heard is what he said a few months earlier when the seizure
and occupation began. His Majesty had issued a proclamation.
[. . .] chiefs, people, and common[er]s from my ancestor,
and people from foreign lands? Hear ye, I make known
242    Kākā‘ōlelo

to you that I am in perplexity by reason of difficulties

into which I have been brought without cause; therefore
I have given away the life of our land, hear ye! But
my rule over you, my people, and your privileges will
continue, for I have hope that the life of the land will be
restored when my conduct shall be justified. (italics added
for emphasis) (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 364)

In this proclamation Kamehameha III uses the term “the life

of the land,” the key words of the motto. In the last line of the
proclamation he refers to the restoration of that life, and to the
idea that his decisions and actions will be justified. That word in
Hawaiian is pono. Therefore, the speech he gave a few months
later at Kawaiaha‘o appears to have been a response to his own
proclamation, and the well remembered phrase literally means
that the life of the land, or the sovereignty, (ke ea o ka ‘āina) of the
kingdom would always exist (e mau) when there was justice as he,
himself, had been vindicated (i ka pono).
We still do not know what he actually said beyond this remnant
of his speech. But we do know that it provides a good example of
how many proverbs, including the following, came to be.

When Kamehameha heard of this he consulted his counselors

and those men who understood wise sayings, and they coined
this phrase, “The fish have entered the net; they are gone into
the bag.” (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 161)
“Open the sluice gate that the fish may enter!” (Kamakau,
Ruling Chiefs 133). This phrase is attributed to Ka‘opulupulu,
the high priest and prophet of Kahahana of O‘ahu.
They would have been like the words of Mahu-lua to her son,
Ku-ali‘i, “Take care of the god, and take care of the big man,
the little man, and the fatherless.” (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 8)
When the Kauai chief saw for the first time, by the ovens
they had left, the size of the camp which Kamehameha had
occupied he said, “Where a big squid digs itself a hole, there
crab shells are heaped at the opening.” (Kamakau, Ruling
Chiefs 159)
 No Nā Mamo  243

“Make the chills run up and down, make them teeter like the
tail of a plover, make them flutter like the long feathers of the
koa‘e bird in the wind, sway like the ‘uwa‘u bird in the calm,
make them scatter and hold their breath!” (Kamakau, Ruling
Chiefs 153–154). This was the rallying and battle cry of the
chief Ka‘iana.
“Ka-‘ula-hai-malama plays hide and seek; Ke-ku-hau-pi‘o
(Stands-leaning) is her father; she leans on the canoe side
and rests against the back of the canoe (Pe‘ekue Ka-‘ula-hai
malama, o Ke-ku-hau-pi‘o he makua hilinai a‘e i ka palekai,
kalale moku a‘e mahope). This means that she tries to shield
the true offender by dodging direct questions” (Kamakau,
Ruling Chiefs 333).
“But it was they [the chiefs] who were the wanderers; the
people born of the soil remained according to the old
saying, ‘It is the top stone that rolls down; the stone at the
bottom stays where it is’ (O ko luna pohaku no ke ka‘a ilalo,
‘a‘ole i hiki i ko lalo pohaku ke ka‘a)” (Kamakau, Ruling
Chiefs 376).
“In the year 1765 a quarrel arose among the descendants of
the chief Ke-kau-like Ka-lani-ku‘i-hono-i-ka-moku. [. . .] The
quarrel arose through a certain soldier of the guard named
Ka-hahana [. . .]. The chiefs distributed fish to the people and
left out this man and his wife. [. . .] The Hawaiian text reads,
‘I le‘ale‘a ka ‘ai ana a na ’lii i ka ‘ai, a me na laulau, me na
ho‘olua, a me ka i‘a, ‘ono kana ‘ai ana me na wahine; i ke ka
‘ole ia i ka pohuehue, kaiko‘o ke awa, popo‘i ka nalu, ‘a‘ole i
ikeia ka poe nana e he‘e ka nalu.’ [The chiefs enjoy eating poi
and laulau and meat cooked in ti leaves and fish. Food eaten
with the wives is delicious because the pohuehue vine had
not been smitten to cause rough sea in the harbor where the
billows roll so that the riders of the surf could not be seen.]
This hidden threat refers to the practice of beating the waves
with a length of pohuehue (convolvulus) vine such as grows by
the seashore in order to secure good waves for surfing.
[. . .] [That is, anger rises in the heart and he will be
avenged.]” (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 83).
244    Kākā‘ōlelo

Some of these excerpts were taken from the middle of battle,

some from actual meetings of the councils, and others from
conversations. They are “poetic” because many times they use objects
and actions in nature to describe human behavior. This should not be
surprising for a culture that prizes observation as one of its primary
learning skills (a‘o) and honors an avoidance of conflict or directness,
as found in the process of ho‘oponopono. The use of such sayings
targets a limited audience who, by their actions or behavior, should
recognize the intended similarities.
Their inventiveness also shows signs of competition and
debate, which is evident in the speeches heard at the council of
chiefs at Pohukaina. This spirit of competition is seen in lāuga and
whaikōrero, too.
Oratory can be intensely competitive, and a good or bad
performance affects the prestige of not only the orator
but also those he represents. Competition is usually
strongest for the right to address or speak to an assembly
first. The debate over who has this privilege can last a
few minutes or more than an hour. [. . .] Engaging in this
type of activity is called fa‘atau, which literally means
‘to provoke contention’. It is in this competitive aspect
of oratory that the skills, character and knowledge of an
orator first reveal themselves. (Mallon 133–134)

For most of the time they are listening to one speaker

after another through the ritual paces, and they do get
bored. The speakers listen to each other in case there is
something they can elaborate on later, but the rest of
the audience chat, doze, smoke and otherwise divert
themselves. [. . .] [T]he occasional brilliant speech
stands out all the more; the audience snap out of their
passive monitoring of the ritual, and really begin to
listen. When a succession of such speakers stands on the
marae, each one picking up comments, embroidering on
them, making jokes or giving vivid accounts of history,
taking up errors and subjecting the perpetrator to good
natured ridicule, the marae comes alive with attention.
(Salmond, Hui 165)
 No Nā Mamo  245

Riddling Contests as a Form of Speech-making

Such competition of Māori orators was also known in Hawaiian
traditions, but as the game of ho‘opa‘apa‘a or “riddling contest.”
Beckwith gives a vivid description of this art form.
In such a contest high stakes are set, even to life itself.
In more homely usage the art consists in betting on a
riddle to be guessed, in a brag upon which the opponent
has been induced to put up a bet, or in merely playing
with language in a way to entangle the opponent with
contradictory and seemingly impossible meanings. Puns
were delighted in as a way of matching an opponent or
fulfilling a brag. Taunts after the manner of “stringing”
a less sophisticated rival must be met with a jibe more
bitter. One series of objects of a kind must be matched
with another, or a forgotten item, no matter how trivial,
added. One object proposed must be met with another
analogous in every detail, or its antithesis [. . .] the
contestant being careful in every case to follow exactly
the words of his opponent, which he must show to apply
equally well to the parallel he has chosen. Real knowledge
is necessary for such a contest. (Hawaiian Mythology 455)

Beckwith uses the actual dialogue between two contestants as

a prime example of the form of ho‘opa‘apa‘a, but Kamakau tells
of a historical contest between two adults who are both skilled in
kākā‘ōlelo. Nāmaka was a person well known during the reign of
Kalani‘ōpu‘u. He is said to have attached himself to a chief ‘ ‘imi
haku’ through the multitude of skills he possessed in the areas of
kālaimoku ‘administration,’ ke kākā‘ōlelo ‘oratory,’ ke kū‘auhau
‘genealogies,’ ka lonomakaihe ‘spear throwing,’ ke kuhikuhipu‘uone
‘advising the location of sites,’ ka lua ‘wrestling,’ ka lele, ‘leaping off
cliffs,’ and ke kilo ‘observing the signs and omens,’ all of which he
learned on the island of Kaua‘i (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 111). In
this tradition Nāmaka was said to have been challenged by another
highly skilled person named Pakuanui of Nu‘uanu on the island of
O‘ahu. He was said to have been a skilled person in kākā‘ōlelo and
lua. Kamakau tells that Pakuanui was “the father of Ka-‘ele-o-waipi‘o,
246    Kākā‘ōlelo

a man of learning of Kamehameha’s day who lived at Kailua and

composed the dirges to Jesus” (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 111). They
engaged in a series of wrestling moves until finally Pakuanui was
able to deftly maneuver Nāmaka over the cliffs of Nu‘uanu, although
Nāmaka is said to have been able to use his skills in cliff leaping to
land safely below (Kamakau, Ke Kumu Aupuni 64).
The other skills he possessed were learned through some formal
training, and the implication here is the possibility that ho‘opa‘apa‘a
also involved formal training. Beckwith notes that in other Pacific
Island cultures skill in the play and use of language was acquired
through schools. She writes that “In Tahiti, the study of enigmas and
similes, called paraupiri, was a favorite pastime in the schools and
women might take part as teachers. Artificial language, proverbs,
and plays on words belonged to the ali‘i period of Tahiti [. . .].”
In the Marquesas there were “schools of learning [. . .] in which
pupils learned the legends, genealogies, and chants. [. . .] Contests
of wit were held between the masters of learning [. . .]” (Hawaiian
Mythology 462).
The example given of “[t]he chiefs enjoy[ing] eating poi and
laulau and meat cooked in ti leaves and fish” is a poetic allegory
of “[f]ood eaten with the wives is delicious because the pohuehue
vine had not been smitten to cause rough sea in the harbor where
the billows roll so that the riders of the surf could not be seen”
(Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 83) and demonstrates the Hawaiian skills
and knowledge needed to create and use such a poetic invention.
The opening phrase describes a very happy and delightful occasion,
especially with its description of food and pleasure. For men to eat
with their wives is considered to be ‘ai noa ‘free eating,’ which is
without any restrictions or prohibitions. The speaker then attempts
to liken this pleasurable activity to a more dangerous and menacing
event when stormy surf hits the harbor causing any brave surfer who
dares ride it to be hidden from sight in the swells. Of course, it is
thought that the pounding ‘kā’ of the morning glory vines ‘pōhuehue’
is the cause for the waves to pound in the first place. What an odd
thought for us today—people getting to feast and enjoy themselves
because someone has not done a certain ritual to cause violent
weather to form. What has that got to do with revenge? Perhaps
 No Nā Mamo  247

it could be saying that you are lucky this time to enjoy yourself
and get away with it, but when someone does get into the course
of action, then look out, because the results will be dangerous, like
surfing when one shouldn’t. This is cultural guessing until we can
understand the context or the circumstances in which this was said.
It is an example that demonstrates how important it is to have a
working knowledge of Hawaiian language and culture to be able to
grasp the depth of meaning of Hawaiian poetry and oratory.
If we investigate a little deeper, we find that, according to
Kamakau, there was a quarrel that occurred “through a certain
soldier of the guard named Ka-hahana who belonged to Ke‘e-au-
moku [. . .]. This man went every day to his plantation and when he
returned at night his wife cooked the taro tops. The chiefs distributed
fish to the people and left out this man and his wife. [. . .] [T]he chiefs
were constantly depriving the people of their fishing rights” (Ruling
Chiefs 83). Kahahana spoke his words about feasting and surfing
and outfitted himself in his war gear. He then began to kill others,
and this started a battle known as Kalae‘ili‘ili. Knowing this bit of
information, we can see that the feasting chiefs were indeed the real
chiefs of Waihe‘e who feasted on such foods but did not share them
fairly, and Kahahana would be the one to beat the pōhuehue vines.
That is, his anger had built up and exploded like the swells rolling
into the harbor, the ones the chiefs liked to pass their time surfing.
Kahahana is able to put together the factors that he has seen as
the disturbing behavior of the chiefs: their pleasure in surfing and
feasting on the many food resources of Waihe‘e, while he and his
wife are left to only eat the lū‘au taken from his own fields. Even
though his words describe his inner anger, they still depict the
beauty, the creativeness, and the genius of Hawaiian oratory that we
find somewhat in chant and song composition today.

Non-verbal Communication
Perhaps equally important in oral traditions, and with oratory,
is the use of non-verbal communication tools such as a club or
instrument to emphasize speech, the inflection or tone of voice, facial
expressions, and other means that make the act of speaking into a
performance worthy of being remembered.
248    Kākā‘ōlelo

Where oratory is active, in Aotearoa or Sāmoa, one can see

orators use a club, a cane, or a long pole (to‘oto‘o in Samoan or
tokotoko in Māori) to extend their words physically in space or to
denote their status as an orator. In Māori whaikōrero, speeches “are
illustrated with a wealth of gesture, tailored to the meaning of the
words and graphically underlining them. A man who speaks with his
hands in his pockets is scorned; people say that this is a sign he does
not speak his mind” (Salmond, Hui 172). Such details are rare or
lacking in the literature of Hawai‘i, but there are some fragments that
indicate the possibility, indeed probability, that these communication
tools did exist.
For example, Kamakau tells us of a council held on O‘ahu for the
chief Kahahana to consider the request of the Maui chief Kahekili, his
“foster father,” to claim the ivory that drifted ashore at Kualoa. The
priest-prophet Ka‘opulupulu was called for and “the question put,
and Ka-hahana told him that he was willing to grant these things to
his parent in return for his up-bringing. The kahuna bowed his head
[. . .]” (italics added for emphasis) (Ruling Chiefs 129).
A similar action was used by Kamehameha to denote shame,
regret, and perhaps even disapproval in the following example.
Kinopu ordered the keepers of the pond to lower fish
nets, and the result was a catch so large that a great heap
of fish lay spoiling upon the bank of the pond.

The news of the huge catch reached Kamehameha,

who was then with Kalanimoku, war leader and officer
of the king’s guard. The king said nothing at the time,
but sat with bowed head and downcast eyes, apparently
disapproving of such reckless waste. Had they caught
enough for a meal, perhaps forty or twenty, nothing
would have been said. However, Kalanimoku, apparently
knowing why the king kept his head bowed, commanded
Kinopu to release most of the fish. Kinopu’s act became
common knowledge [. . .]. (italics added for emphasis)
(Ii 49)

Some speeches, such as the announcement of the transition of

governance after the death of Kamehameha, may be remembered
 No Nā Mamo  249

because they are part of the pageantry of historical events that enhance
the presentation and performance. Kamakau gives this account of the
gathering of the council of chiefs at Kamakahonu, or Kailua Bay.
On the day when the title of Kamehameha II was given
him there were gathered to the council the chiefs in
full regalia, the governors all in their feather robes, the
war leaders, lesser chiefs, and the soldiers under arms.
Ka-‘ahu-manu was regent and chief counselor, and Ka-
lani-moku was chief of the war leaders. [. . .] After the
prayer by the chief kahuna asking blessings upon him,
Liholiho came out dressed in great splendor wearing
a suit presented him from England with a red coat
trimmed with gold lace and a gold order on his breast,
a feather helmet on his head and a feather cloak worn
over his shoulders. He was accompanied by two chiefs as
escort, one on either side, all in so dignified and orderly
a manner [. . .]. He was there met by Ka-‘ahu-manu, who
spoke as follows: “O heavenly one! I speak to you the
commands of your grandfather. Here are the chiefs, here
are the people of your ancestors; here are your guns;
here are your lands. But we two shall share the rule over
the land.” (Ruling Chiefs 219–220)

Malo gives a slightly different version of this event, to which

he said he was an eyewitness. He said that Keōpūolani was the one
who announced that the kingdom would be left to Ka‘ahumanu:
“Kaahumanu met all the chiefs and people on the sandy beach,
part in the water, and delivered orders to all . . . was one of the true
native grandeur and majesty . . .” (qtd. in Malo xv). Without the
re-enforcement of the pageantry of the chiefs, Ka‘ahumanu’s speech
could have been heard as just orders. This appears to be the case
when she was nearing her own death and her speech was recorded in
the first Hawaiian language newspaper Ka Lama.
[E] na ‘lii, e na kanaka, e hoolohe mai, e hooikaika
oukou a pau i ka pono, e malama i ke kauoha a ko kakou
Haku a Iesu; a me ka olelo a ko kakou mau hoahanau,
ma ka pono, oia wale no ka‘u mea i hele mai nei e h[a]
i aku ia oukou i ke ola, oia ko‘u makemake; e huli kakou
250    Kākā‘ōlelo

a pau ma ka mea e ola‘i ko kakou mau uhane; aole oia e

haalele mai ia‘u. (“No ke kauoha”)

Oh chiefs and people, listen [to what I have to say]. All

of you must take strength in doing what is right and to
follow the commandments of our Lord, Jesus; and the
words of our cousins [the missionaries], in doing what is
right, that is what I have to say to you all who are living,
and that is my wish. We all must turn to the one who
gives us salvation to our souls. He has not departed from
me. (Author’s translation)

This is an important speech, but it is not as well remembered

today as the parting words of other dying chiefs such as Līloa, who
said to ‘Umi, “live humbly.”

Oratory Today
Today Hawaiian oratory is being heard again, although it is
restricted to community gatherings and meetings. It is greatly
influenced by speakers who have some relationship to the Māori of
Aotearoa, those who have either traveled there or have hosted or
been in the presence of Māori who have come here. This imitation
may not be a bad thing, for at least the Hawaiian speakers follow
a Polynesian format, though it is a Māori one. Recently during
personal introductions at a retreat for a Hawaiian organization, a
woman introduced herself as “My mountain is such-and-such, my
land is such-and-such, my river or water is such-and-such, and
my sea is such-and-such.” That is a form taken straight from the
whaikōrero, the oratory of the marae (meeting house) of the Māori;
however, there is a similarity in Hawaiian oral traditions as found
in the birth genealogies. Kamakau says of himself, “The lands of
Manuaula in Kamananui is the placenta from the Lihu‘e cliffs of
Kukaniloko to Wahiawa at Pooamoho, the land of my ancestors of
my father. The placenta and the land of my mother are from Waikele
to Kalauao, the Ewa of Laakona” (Chun, Nā Kukui 17). There is a
genuine relationship to the land, perhaps not expressed in the same
poetic usage as with the Māori for mountain, river, and people,
“Taranaki te maunga, Taranaki te wai, Taranaki te tangata ‘Taranaki
 No Nā Mamo  251

is the mountain, Taranaki is the river, and Taranaki are the people,’”
but by the traditional practice of burying the parts of the afterbirth
into the land.
Much has been forgotten about this important art form,
particularly in light of the claim to be “from an oral tradition,” but
all is not completely lost. If there is a serious desire to resurrect
Hawaiian oratory, it can be done, for the means to its restoration
have been clearly articulated to us, the living descendants of these
kākā‘ōlelo.
We know that good orators needed to have a working
knowledge of genealogies, history, and proverbs. These
skills can be learned, and a vital part of this is to practice
the traditional learning, especially observation. It is very
apparent, even from the Māori and Samoan structures of
oratory, that observation, careful listening, and good analysis
of insights make a good orator.
The skills of the ho‘opa‘apa‘a can be revitalized through
language schools, instruction, and competition. Hawaiian
churches and ‘ohana ‘families’ once retained such skills
through what was known as ho‘omana‘o or “remembrance”
of Hawaiian biblical phrases that would be recited from
memory and even added to by another person as if in
competition.
Equally important is the need to practice oratory in
appropriate settings. We should know by now how important
context is to speaking, and opportunities for formal speech in
different settings are necessary if this art form is to be revived
at both meetings and ceremonies, formal and informal.

The revival of Hawaiian oratory may further elevate the usage

of Hawaiian language to one of dignity and honor, but it should
also instill the sacredness of the word. It may well be, as Beckwith
describes it, that we will find our “chief artistic expression”
(Hawaiian Mythology 463).
252    Ho‘onohonoho

10 Ho‘onohonoho
Traditional Ways of Cultural Management

In the time of Kamehameha the fishermen swam together in

a row, and if one got out of line or lagged behind he was struck
by the sharp nose of the fish.
Kaheiheimalie in Ruling Chiefs of Hawaii

If a group worked together to compose a chant the leader

would ask each composer to give a line; if there were eighty
composers the chant would contain eighty lines, and these
would be combined into a single composition. Two, three,
or more composers could work on a single chant.
Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs of Hawaii

In Hawaiian there are two words that were used to describe what
management is about: ho‘oponopono and ho‘onohonoho. I have
seen both of them used to describe how a chief ruled. Although today
we associate the word ho‘oponopono with a process of reconciliation,
it had a broader meaning before people began to refer to it with that
single intent. If we broaden what we now think of as the process of
ho‘oponopono to apply it to larger groups, we can see that a leader
or a council of leaders may engage in a similar process to make
decisions and carry them out.
Ho‘onohonoho has a similar kind of intent. The act of noho (that
is, to live) combined with the causative ho‘o- (to make), as in to make a
living or to provide a living, suggests more of a system of doing things,
what we now think of as management. I have seen this term used more
often to mean governance. But can it also describe a “cultural” kind of
management? Our modern world of money and of the marketplace is
made complex by the need for a high degree of cooperation between
people. In business, greater efficiency saves on costs and increases
profits. We manage money, goods, services, and people, and we even
try to manage time. If there is such a thing as “cultural” management,
and I believe there is, then the way that we choose to manage all these
things should reflect the culture we use to make our decisions. We
should be able to detect traditional ways our ancestors managed their
world and, if we are practicing “cultural” management, to see those
traditions continued in our practices today.
 No Nā Mamo  253

Management is a term we can associate with two groups: the large,

corporate organizations, whether private, government, or not-for-
profit and the personal, represented by family or community-based
groups. In traditional Hawaiian society, the closest thing to the first
group was the ali‘i ‘chiefs’ and their relationship to people ‘kānaka.’

Corporate Management: The Ali‘i

The complexity of the ali‘i’s style of rule covers several inter-
related concepts and values. Its hierarchy, or protocols, and its
methods of collection and redistribution of wealth seem to have
operated in ways that we see in large corporations and organizations.
Davida Malo gives us this description.
[. . .] the chiefdom was thought to have [only] one body
like a human being. [There being] a head, hands, feet
and the smaller body parts. There are many parts to this
one body and so this was the same with a chiefdom. It
had many parts to its body.

The chiefdom’s real body was the people, from the

maka‘āinana [commoners] to the ali‘i(s) [chiefs] who
were directly below the ali‘i nui [high chief]. This was the
real body of the chiefdom [. . .]. The ali‘i nui, who was
higher in rank, was the real head of the chiefdom. The
ali‘i(s) directly below the ali‘i nui were like the shoulders
and chest of the chiefdom. The kahuna [priest] of the
ki‘i(s) [images] was the right hand of the chiefdom, the
kālaimoku [chief counsellor] was the left hand of the
chiefdom. That was how the people of old had worked
[this system] out.

The koa [warriors] were the right foot of the chiefdom.

The mahi‘ai [farmers] and the lawai‘a [fishermen] were
the left foot of the chiefdom. These people labored at
every task [and they] were the small parts of the body
[attached to] the larger parts of the chiefdom. [. . .]

There were two important body parts: that of the

kālaimoku and the kahuna pule ki‘i. They ran the
chiefdom. They guided the head [ali‘i nui] of the
254    Ho‘onohonoho

chiefdom to where they had thought it was best [to

go]. They guided the head of the chiefdom there. If the
head of the chiefdom refused their guidance then the
chiefdom might be turned over to someone else, because
of the mistakes of the head, the ali‘i nui. (258)

We can see from this vivid description how the roles and
relationships of the various offices and positions worked. The inter-
relationship hints at the cooperation needed for such a body to
function effectively.

The Despotic Ali‘i: The Wrong Kind of Leadership

Malo also points out, however, in the last part of the description,
what might happen when things don’t go right, what might be called,
in today’s terms, an internal hostile takeover. As we have seen in
the chapter on Alaka‘i, there are several good examples of this from
the traditions of the so-called “despotic” ali‘i of the Kona and Ka‘ū
districts on the island of Hawai‘i, and they show us some of the
dynamics and limitations of this relationship.
In the tradition concerning the ali‘i Kōha‘ikalani, told in the
chapter on Alaka‘i, he had his people gather stones to build a new
temple, but the priests who came to bless the place realized, from the
quantity of stones, that the temple would be used for human sacrifice,
and they warned the people whom they saw as the potential victims.
Apparently an abusive leader could be removed if it was done
within the confines of the society and culture. We saw this in the
tradition of the ali‘i Ko‘ihala whose servants remained faithful to
him as they moved from place to place, but became disloyal when
he behaved with insolence and irresponsibility toward them. I
emphasize the cultural aspects of this tradition of Ko‘ihala because
the patience of the servants follows a cultural response to the ali‘i.
Historian John Papa ‘Ī‘ī tells of an event that occurred in his own
homeland of Waipi‘o on the island of O‘ahu that illustrates that kind
of cultural response to the ali‘i’s commands.
Kaimihau answered, “You cannot do this, for we were
not told of it by our leaders. If Kalanimoku had made
this request through our own leaders, we should have
 No Nā Mamo  255

heard of it and therefore done nothing to prevent the

removal of the canoe. If you persist in the idea of taking
the canoe, day may change to night and night to day
without its budging from its resting place. All things left
here at Waipio are protected, from the sea to the upland,
and we shall not let them go unless we hear from our
own leaders.” (77)

‘Ī‘ī also describes an abuse of power that revealed contrary

behavior and the waste of resources.
Kinopu ordered the keepers of the pond to lower fish
nets, and the result was a catch so large that a great heap
of fish lay spoiling upon the bank of the pond.

The news of the huge catch reached Kamehameha, who was

then with Kalanimoku, war leader and officer of the king’s
guard. The king said nothing at the time, but sat with bowed
head and downcast eyes, apparently disapproving of such
reckless waste. Had they caught enough for a meal, perhaps
forty or twenty, nothing would have been said. However,
Kalanimoku, apparently knowing why the king kept his
head bowed, commanded Kinopu to release most of the fish.
Kinopu’s act became common knowledge [. . .]. (49)

In this instance we see how a chief, Kalanimoku, could follow

through on his ruling chief ’s sensitivity to the extravagance and
abuse of authority and could impose damage control over the
situation. Kamehameha’s sensitivity shows an appreciation for the
management and control of precious resources and is a sign of being
a good ‘pono’ chief.
When we consider the ali‘i system of management and whether
it might be useful today, we must consider that the roles, and the
rank and status that came with them, had a deep relationship to the
culture. Being an accidental product of birth, they were more than
mere titles, and the system worked because the people were deeply
engaged in the world view and way of life that incorporated these
traditional roles.
Incredible as it may seem, in the 1970s, there was serious
consideration from the president’s office at the University of Hawai‘i
256    Ho‘onohonoho

of incorporating traditional Hawaiian family terms for use by the

campus leaders. Titles such as Haku (senior family member) would
be used in an attempt to “localize” the administration. What was not
considered was that those terms have a deep cultural relationship
that requires cooperative use with the people that recognize the
authority it carries. Wise council from Native Hawaiian faculty
ended any consideration of such a plan.
In traditional Hawaiian society, the rank and status conferred
by the system upon an individual depended upon who that
individual’s parents were. This was then directly related to what
kapu ‘restrictions’ were enforced in one’s presence. Consider these
protocols described by Malo.
If the ali‘i was eating and people were bent down on
their knees, then whose ever knee came up was killed. If
a person went with the ali‘i on a kia loa [a long, light and
swift canoe] canoe, then that person was put to death.

If a person unfastened the ali‘i(’s) malo, cape or kapa,

that person was put to death. There were many other
kapu that people [broke and] were put to death. The ali‘i
had many kapu(s). (176)

It all sounds rather trivial, but some ali‘i were so kapu, such
as those under the kapu moe, that they avoided going out in the
daylight, for their shadows were considered kapu, and the penalty
for their shadow falling on a person was death. To say that this made
getting an idea to, or communicating with, the ruling chief a problem
is an understatement. We know from Malo that there were several
stages in an evening when the ruling chief consulted with others.
When the sun set lamps were light [sic] and the ali‘i ate
[their meal]. Those who came in to eat with him or her
were called lanika‘e. Those who came in late at night
were called poho kano. They only talked by lamp light
(kukui) and did not eat anything.

The people who stayed with the ali‘i at the dawn’s lamp
light were called makou because makou was the name of
the lamp. (179–180)
 No Nā Mamo  257

We also know from Malo that the ali‘i had other means of
counsel.
[. . .] the ali‘i nui secretly sent for the kālaimoku(s) to
talk with him. The ali‘i nui listened to all their (lākou)
advice (pono) and then they left.

When the ali‘i nui met (‘aha ‘ōlelo) with all the ali‘i
below him in rank, he listened only to what every ali‘i
had to say. If the ali‘i nui recognized what one ali‘i of his
said, for it was similar to his kālaimoku(s’) advice that
had been secretly heard, then the ali‘i nui agreed to this
ali‘i(’s) words.

If the ali‘i nui knew that what the ali‘i(s) had to say was
not like the advice of the kālaimoku(s), then the ali‘i did
not agree with them. That is how the ‘aha ‘ōlelo of the
ali‘i(s) was held. (267)

Malo’s description tells us how the ali‘i not only managed their
time, or how it was managed for them, but also how they managed
the advice they were getting from so many different sources. If Native
Hawaiian leaders today seek or manage advice in a similar way, then
perhaps this is a cultural practice that has been retained.

Management of Natural Resources

Related to the kapu of the ali‘i is the kapu system imposed upon
resources. We find that certain restrictions ‘kapu’ were imposed for
religious, mythical, or historical reasons on certain plants, animals,
and other natural resources. The kapu that prevented men and
women from eating together and dictated what women could not
eat (pork, bananas, and shark, for example) were based upon the
traditional events of the chief Wākea and his wife Papa. A kapu
about fish and fishing was also invoked in Hawai‘i. Such a kapu was
imposed on the ‘ōpelu ‘mackerel scad or Decapterus pinnulatus and
D. maruadsi’ and aku ‘bonito, skipjack, or Katsuwonus pelamis.’
Malo tells us in the traditions about the prophet Pili that when Pili
arrived in the islands his canoe was “accompanied by two fish, the
‘Ōpelu and the Aku” (144).
258    Ho‘onohonoho

When the wind blew on the ocean, the Aku struck the
side of the canoe and the ‘Ōpelu rippled the surface of the
ocean until the wind died down and the ocean was calmed.
That is how Pili and the others sailed to and landed in the
Hawaiian Islands. Therefore, prohibitions were made on
the Aku and the ‘Ōpelu in the old days. (144)

The memory of this event became part of the religious

ceremonies. Malo tells us that both fish “were always worshipped
every fishing season” (273).
There were other i‘a that were worshipped, but the rituals
were different from those associated with the ‘Ōpelu and
Aku. These i‘a were the ones that surfaced (lana) and
there were a lot of them visible during Kau [Summer] and
Ho‘oilo [Winter]. During Kau the ‘Ōpelu was fished for
and during Ho‘oilo the Aku was fished for.

During the month of Hinaia‘ele‘ele, the ‘Ōpelu were

snatched and eaten while the Aku was made kapu. Any
one including the ali‘i [chief] could not eat the Aku. If
someone had been heard to have eaten the i‘a, then he
or she was killed. ‘Ōpelu were eaten during the month of
Kaelo and then the eating [of ‘Ōpelu] was over.
During the month of Kaelo, the Aku was taken (unuhi),
and eaten while the ‘Ōpelu were made kapu. No one
could eat that i‘a. Anyone heard of having eaten the
‘Ōpelu was killed. (273–274)

Malo gives us a very good description of the rituals involved in

the worship of these two fish.
When the ‘Ōpelu was being fished, the po‘e lawai‘a
[fishermen] gathered at the heiau Kū‘ula during the
evening with their ‘upena ‘a‘ei [fine fishing nets]. A Pua‘a
[Pig] with Mai‘a [Banana], Niu [Coconut], food and
kapa to sleep on were brought [along] and there the akua
lawai‘a [fishing god] was worshipped.

During the ceremonies all the people sat in a circle, then

the kahuna came with a container of water. There was
 No Nā Mamo  259

limu [seaweed] and ‘Ōlena [Turmeric root] placed inside

of the container. The kahuna began the pule huikala
[ceremonial cleansing prayer]. [. . .]

Then, all the men slept in the mua [men’s house] that
night. No one could secretly leave to go back to [his]
own house to sleep with his wife. Their sleeping in the
mua was kapu (restricted), from daylight to nighttime.

Then all the wa‘a lawai‘a [fishing canoes] set sail to sea.
The Pua‘a(s) were baked and when the po‘e lawai‘a
returned [home] with i‘a, then the kahuna prayed and
placed the Pua‘a on the lele [sacrificial altar] with Mai‘a,
Niu, other foods and the kahuna(’s) rites of pule [prayer]
were over.

All the people ate [the food]. When the feasting was
over, then the pule was prohibited (pāpā). Worship was
over and all was made noa [free from restrictions].

That is how the worship of the po‘e lawai‘a who casted

for Aku and those who used ‘upena was done. (274)

Not all the restrictions imposed had the same function or effect.
Another well-known restriction was imposed on certain plants
associated with the volcano and the volcano goddess Pele. The Rev.
William Ellis noted this when he was taken to the volcano on a tour.
When we compared the kapu on the two fish to what Ellis described
at the volcano, we can see how much of a difference ritual has to do
with the word choice of kapu or lāhui.
He [Makoa, their guide] objected strongly to our going
thither, as we should most likely be mischievous,
and offend Pele or Nahoaarii, gods of the volcano, by
plucking the ohelo, (sacred berries,) digging up the sand,
or throwing stones into the crater, [. . .]. (141)

There is an apparent distinction for such a restriction because

Ellis tells us that the word used for the restrictions at the volcano is
lāhui and not kapu.
260    Ho‘onohonoho

[the ohelo berries] were rahuiia, (prohibited,) until some

had been offered to her [Pele], and permission to eat
them asked. (162)

It [tabu] is a distinct word from rahui, to prohibit, as

the ohelo berries at Kirauea were said to be prohibited,
being tabu na Pele, sacred for Pele, and is opposed to the
word noa, which means general or common. (278)

Later in his journal Ellis gives us this distinction between lāhui

and what he describes as kapu.
Although employed for civil as well as sacred purposes,
the tabu [kapu] was entirely a religious ceremony, and
could be imposed only by the priests. (279)

The different usage becomes more apparent when Ellis describes

the restricted ‘ōhelo plant being offered to Pele, for there are neither
priests nor religious ceremonies involved.
They did not use much ceremony in their
acknowledgment; [. . .] they turned their faces towards
the place whence the greatest quantity of smoke and
vapour issued, and, breaking the branch they held
in their hand in two, they threw one part down the
precipice, saying at the same time, “E Pele, eia ka ohelo
‘au; e taumaha aku wau ia oe, e ai hoi au tetahi.” “Pele,
here are your ohelos: I offer some to you, some I also
eat.” (163)

I first encountered the word lāhui in this usage when I was living
in Aotearoa (New Zealand) in 1984. Someone had drowned offshore
whose body could not be recovered. The local Māori tribe placed
a rahui upon the ocean so that no one could go fishing or gather
any shellfish. I asked my host, a Māori bishop, the reason for the
prohibition, and he explained it in two ways. The first was in respect
to the spirit or soul of the deceased, and the second was to let the
ocean “rest,” that is to allow the body to decompose or be eaten and,
after a period of time, removed as waste from the fish’s and shellfish’s
own bodies.
 No Nā Mamo  261

This detailed comparison of the two words is important because

it tells us that kapu, which is related to worship, is not the only word
for prohibition, and because it dispels the common misperception
that somehow kapu are related to environmental issues. The reason
I want to stress the religious connection to kapu is that not all kapu
had environmental implications and outcomes. In the tradition
concerning the high chief ‘Umi, we find a kapu imposed even on how
a fish is handled after being caught.
Fish tossed between the legs became defiled and
were not acceptable as offerings to the god. Such fish
were despised by the god. Therefore ‘Umi traded
with another person for fish that were handed out
and not tossed between the legs. (Kamakau, Ruling
Chiefs 11)

I don’t think anyone today would knowingly object to whether a

fish was tossed above or between a fisherman’s legs. However, there
is some interest in re-thinking something like the traditional kapu,
especially for those practices that do have a definite environmental
impact such as the kapu on ‘ōpelu and aku. It stands to reason that
a ban on fishing of a single species for an extended period of time
will result in either increased or sustained numbers of fish to be
fished. Likewise, as there is more fishing being done today with
more sophisticated fishing technology, it should be no surprise that
the availability of fish has dramatically decreased. Therefore, an
interest has developed in considering restrictions on fishing that are
reminiscent of traditional kapu.
The creation of a marine preserve at Hanauma Bay, with a
dramatic increase in the marine life population, visibly demonstrates
what can happen when such restrictions are employed and enforced.
More recently, proposals were made by the state government to
impose restrictions on fishing around the island of Ni‘ihau due to
complaints by the island’s residents “that fishing boats from other
islands were aggressively fishing the Ni‘ihau reefs and reducing their
ability to maintain a subsistence fishery. The new rules would allow
no outside fishing, and no sale or barter of Ni‘ihau-caught fish by
Ni‘ihau residents” (“State proposes restrictions” B2).
262    Ho‘onohonoho

Over a hundred people, including the author, showed up

over a weekend to kōkua ‘help’ in digging out nearly a
century of accumulated soil and debris from an old ‘auwai
‘ditch’ system.

It is probably safe to assume that our ancestors noticed the

increased numbers of fish after the kapu had been lifted. However,
we should realize that they were not engaged in environmental or
resource management for economic production. They practiced this
form of management because they had a relationship with the fish; in
fact, the aku and ‘ōpelu were thought to be ‘aumākua, familial gods
or guardians, to the descendants of the prophet Pā‘ao (Valeri 28).
Another system of the management of natural resources,
which some link to the development and wealth of the ali‘i, is the
way in which water was developed for different kinds of island
agriculture. The linguistic link between the word for water ‘wai’ and
waiwai which can mean “valuables,” “riches,” or “treasure,” is an
indicator of how precious water is to Native Hawaiians (Handy and
Handy 57). True or not, the management of water has been seen
by archaeologists as being crucial to the development of the rank
and status of the ruling chiefs. (For more information see Spriggs
and Chun; Kirch, Feathered Gods.) Agricultural sites have revealed
several agricultural systems that manage and distribute water
 No Nā Mamo  263

through irrigation. The constant flow of fresh water provided the

resource to expand cultivation and production of crops, especially
kalo ‘taro,’ and other food and plants used for clothing. These
systems were used in areas now considered harsh and dry, areas such
as North Kona on the island of Hawai‘i.
As the theory goes, the increased production of foods developed
into a surplus the ali‘i (and the community) used for trade for other
goods not found in their area, and like in other civilizations, this led
to an increase in fine arts and crafts, or wealth. Greater production
might mean more trade, but there are also some side effects like the
greater possibility for warfare to defend the increased wealth or for
expansion.
We do not practice this type of cultural management of water
today, for we do not engage in such intensive agriculture. In a
reversal of the traditional management system of water, we now
allow excess water from storms to be diverted directly into the ocean
instead of allowing the flooding of the plains. This wastes the excess
water and pollutes the coastal shores with silt that could enrich
working agricultural fields. This has worked until now because
instead of engaging in intensive agriculture, we use land for urban
development—houses, shopping centers, and businesses, for which
water is drilled instead of relying on springs and ever-flowing streams.
But with the increased likelihood of droughts and augmented water
consumption by a growing population, it will be interesting to see
if planners, environmentalists, and politicians take to considering
traditional hydrology and adapt it to modern conservation.

Management of Labor
Laulima, literally “many hands,” is the Hawaiian word for
cooperation. In Hawaiian society, community development meant
the communal use of labor in a cooperative effort. Large construction
projects—large temples, irrigation canals, and the like—were
efforts that required a lot of hands to complete. However, there
were differences in the level of cooperation as we have seen in
the traditions concerning Ko‘ihala and Kohaikalani. Abusive and
oppressive demands do not encourage cooperation even if you have
the rank and status to demand it. Kamakau gives an example of the
264    Ho‘onohonoho

opposite, a tradition where a chiefly command was fulfilled beyond

even the ali‘i(’s) expectations of cooperative labor. The event was
the building of the luakini ‘temple’ on the hill called Pu‘ukoholā.
Kamakau tells us that “Kamehameha abandoned war and adopted
the advice of Ka-pou-kahi and his aunt Ha‘alo‘u, to build a house for
the god [so to defeat his rivals]” (Ruling Chiefs 154).
When it came to the building of Pu‘u-kohola´ no one, not
even a tabu chief, was excused from the work of carrying
stone. Kamehameha himself labored with the rest. The
only exception was the high tabu chief Ke-ali‘i-maika‘i
[Kamehameha’s younger brother]. It is said that when
this chief saw Kamehameha carrying stone, he too lifted a
stone and started to carry it on his back to Pu‘u-kohola´;
but when Kamehameha saw him packing the stone on his
back he ran and took it away saying, “You stop that! You
must preserve our tabu. I will do the carrying!” Then he
ordered Ka-pa‘a-lani and some others to take that rock out
into mid-ocean so far that land was no longer visible and
throw it overboard. (Ruling Chiefs 154–155)

Volunteers pass rocks to create a small diversion dam at Hālawa Valley

on Moloka‘i to create a water supply to feed into a restored ‘auwai ‘ditch’
system for lo‘i ‘kalo fields.’

In Native Planters in Old Hawaii, Handy and Handy, with the collaboration
of Mary Kawena Pukui, note the difference between “household enterprise”
and the capital works of the ali‘i.
 No Nā Mamo  265

Laulima in household enterprise, family feasts and the

like, was spontaneous. But in the building of taro lo‘i and
irrigation ditches, and of fishponds, it was organized and
supervised by konohiki carrying out orders of their ali‘i. (307)

There are few descriptions of such communal work, possibly

because much of the commentary on agriculture was from the
perspective of the individual farmer. Kamakau readily admits that
large-scale agriculture really lies with the ability of someone of high
rank and status to organize a large labor force.
If the planter were a chief, the work was easy, for he had
from a hundred to a thousand workers to do his work for
him. The chiefs’ lo‘i were therefore large. This was also
true of a prominent person or one with a large family
(‘ohana) and many kinfolk (makamaka); he too had a
large lo‘i. Those who had no help had a small lo‘i [. . .].
(The Works 33)

Restoration of lo‘i ‘kalo fields’ in lower Hālawa Valley, Moloka‘i

We also have the traditions of the menehune, a mythical people

who epitomize cooperation and capital projects. The menehune
model a chiefly labor unit except for one drawback. According to the
traditions, if, for whatever reason, the project they were constructing
266    Ho‘onohonoho

was not finished by dawn, it would remain unfinished. In this regard,

cooperation and good relationships are imperative for the project to
be finished on time, for any disruption would, more than likely, lead
to the project being left undone.
It is said that in constructing a heiau it was the custom
for a chief over a large district to line up all the men
under him and pass the stones from hand to hand until
all was in place, much like [. . .] barn raisings in pioneer
life. The time element is important in these Menehune
structures, especially as the workers themselves become
purely mythical beings and night is the time of their
activity. (Beckwith, Hawaiian Mythology 333)

These menehune traditions would have been told to inspire

increased labor, but in many instances they explain, or are used
to explain, some unfinished project or geographical oddity in the
landscape. Their exploits were based upon, and modeled, the kind of
communal labor we find described for more “human” activity.
On the day of treading the lo‘i was filled with water, and
the owner of the patch made ready plenty of “food” (poi),
pork, and “fish.” It was a great day for the men, women,
and children, and no chief or chiefess held himself too
tabu to tread in the patch. Every man, woman, and child
bedecked himself with greenery, and worked with all his
might—trampling here and there, stirring the mud with
his feet, dancing, rejoicing, shouting, panting, and making
sport. (Kamakau, The Works 34)

Handy and Handy recount Kamakau’s description of such an

event.
Dry taro was [. . .] sometimes planted by a team of men
working in unison. Such work was termed ha‘aheo
(aristocratic), probably because such planting was done
for an ali‘i. The field was burned over, then mulched.
The bundles of huli were prepared. The men went
fishing and ate a good meal, while the women prepared
pandanus and ‘ilima garlands for the necks and heads
 No Nā Mamo  267

of their men. At the field, each man, garlanded and

carrying his digging stick (‘o‘o), and his bundle of huli,
took his place [in line]. Then, holding the ‘o‘o in the
right hand and the huli in the left, each man thrust in the
stick slantwise, and into the hole so made, tossed a huli.
“They turned this way and that as they moved backwards
like a school of pai‘ea crabs, and a fine sight it was to see
as they swayed hither and thither.” (105)

‘Ī‘ī also describes what he had seen in the clearing of a field.

The bulrushes were as nothing, for they were cleared
away in a single day. Some men cut the rushes, some
dug them out, some built mounds, and others covered
the mounds with the rushes. Much food was provided
for the noonday meal of the workers, who then resumed
their work until evening. (68)

Fishing, as with farming, appears in the descriptions and

commentaries to be more of an individual activity. But to make larger
catches, both in numbers and size, a communal effort was needed.
Less formal was the community cooperative undertaking
in lagoon fishing called hukilau, when fish were driven
into a sweep net to which were attached at either end
long ropes with dried ti leaves tied along their lengths.
(Handy and Handy 307)

Another traditional means of communal fishing was alluded to

in a speech given during a very emotional meeting of the Council of
Chiefs at Pohukaina in Honolulu in the 1830s. This event, known as
the Pahikaua war, has been described in more detail in the chapters
on Ho‘oponopono and Kākā‘ōlelo. Kuini Liliha had been accused of
being a bad influence on the young king, who was in her care. Her
plea brought tears to those gathered, and Kaheiheimālie, another
female chief, responded to those pleas.
Then Ka-heihei-malie, who had been sitting on the
stairway during the council, rose and spoke about the
goodness of God and urged the people to listen to the
268    Ho‘onohonoho

words of Ka-‘ahu-manu and Kau-i-ke-aouli and of

Nahi-‘ena‘ena. Then she added, drawing a figure from the
communal method of fishing for swordfish, “In the time
of Kamehameha the fishermen swam together in a row,
and if one got out of line or lagged behind he was struck
by the sharp nose of the fish. So those who do not follow
God’s word and do not obey our king, but fall out of line,
they shall be struck by the sharp sword of the law, so do
not lag behind lest you be hurt.” (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs
300–301)

Although Kaheiheimālie uses this reference to make a point

about conformity more than cooperation, she tells us of an extremely
interesting form of communal fishing and cooperation. The
swordfish or “a‘u” (Istiophoridae) is not a small or ordinary fish, and
the method she describes so graphically places people swimming in
the open ocean attempting to “herd” the large fish into being caught.
Cooperation is needed to remain as a group, perhaps to make the line
of swimmers appear as if it were a larger fish or predator, presumably
driving the a‘u towards fishermen in canoes.

Feasting: The Management and Sharing of Food

In these descriptions there is a common element that I find
extremely intriguing about traditional communal labor, the sharing
of food by feasting. It is an element that I was reminded of when
reading a story in the morning newspaper about the simple event
of a barge landing at Kalaupapa. One must realize that the barge
landing at the isolated peninsula once referred to as a leper colony is
a once-a-year event to deliver large commodities such as cars, trucks,
appliances, and furniture. It was after the spectacle of the unloading
of and gawking at the goods that
[d]uring a break in the unloading, nearly everybody in town
joins a community lunch on the steps of the store, where the
menu includes chili and rice, Polish sausage, macaroni salad
and chocolate cake. The lunch, a thank-you for workers
unloading the barge, is the only time when so many people
in Kalaupapa get to eat together. (Leidmann A2)
 No Nā Mamo  269

As an act of gratitude, and perhaps of the sharing of one’s wealth,

we find that community efforts in labor management often result in
feasting. Feasting itself is a community event, as described in Native
Planters in Old Hawaii.
Laulima likewise was in order in the preparation of
community feasts, when wood for fuel must be brought in
quantity for the ground ovens, and foods were brought in
large amounts, including fish, hogs, dogs, chickens, taros,
sweet potatoes, yams, bananas, kukui nuts, and coconuts.

In family enterprise such as was involved in erecting

a new house, most of the work was done by ‘ohana
(kith and kin), but neighbors would lend a hand. So it
was also with family feasts (‘aha‘aina). The wealth of
a family was that of many competent hands willing to
apply themselves to crude and skilled labor, rather than
in material possessions, goods which were to be used or
given away. (Handy and Handy 307)

Like farming and other activities in traditional Hawaiian society,

feasting was conducted by both chiefs and commoners. Kirch points
out that “for the maka‘ainana, [there] were small feasts (usually
focused on the sacrifice of a pig) to celebrate the cutting of a new
canoe, or the successful harvest of a set of irrigated taro terraces
[. . .]. The chiefs, in contrast, could virtually be found feasting
every day of their lives” (“Polynesian Feasting” 178). Kirch’s article
emphasizes the political and religious implications of feasting for the
chiefs that became a “daily reminder of the immense gulf of social
distinctions that separated ali‘i from maka‘ainana” (“Polynesian
Feasting” 180). Without that hierarchy today, what is practiced in
feasting is the lū‘au, and it is typically a family or community event.

Feasting: The Management of Labor

The idea of feasting as a metaphor for cultural management is
something that I wouldn’t have considered if I had not read about
a video turned corporate management workshop tool called Fish.
The article described a public relations executive who was visiting
Pike Place (public farmers’) Market in Seattle. He was intrigued by
270    Ho‘onohonoho

the fishmongers and how they dealt with the customers by making
a show out of the orders. He saw that they were having fun while
they worked, which made their job enjoyable. He recorded the whole
thing and started to spread the word through sales of the video and
workshops that work could and should be fun. His observation
was that improved working conditions, such as creating a fun
environment in which to work, produced better cooperation among
the workers.
If I recorded the preparations for a traditional feast that we now
call a lū‘au, what would we expect to see?
Our family lū‘au, from a child’s point of view, were more like
frantic events than what I think of as celebrations. There was the
gathering of food, the preparation of the food and the grounds, the
decorating, the entertainment, and the clean up. In other words,
work. I remember peeking into the kitchen to see all the women
working, either chopping or stirring, and then behind the house
were all the men tending a huge mound of dirt and burlap bags with
vapors of steam rising up from it. They were drinking beer rather
than working at that stage.
The initial stage of a lū‘au is the planning: what is the menu, and,
therefore, what are the resources we will need? Firewood, stones,
burlap bags, banana stumps, and kī leaves are just the basic things
required to have an imu or umu ‘underground oven.’
Ellis gives this very early description of the construction of an imu.
The oven was a hole in the earth, three or four feet in
diameter, and nearly a foot deep. A number of small
stones were spread over the bottom, a few dried leaves
laid on them, and the necessary quantity of sticks and
firewood piled up, and covered over with small stones.
The dry leaves were then kindled, [. . .].

When the stones were red-hot, they were spread out

with a stick, the remaining fire-brands taken away; and
when the dust and ashes, on the stones at the bottom,
had been brushed off with a green bough, [. . .] hot
stones were then placed on these leaves, and a covering
six inches thick of leaves and earth spread over the
whole. (147)
 No Nā Mamo  271

It must be considered when planning the menu who and how

many are to be invited. What specialty or regional items like ‘ōpihi,
‘ōpae, hīhīwai, wana, and other side dishes need to be ordered, that
is, asked for from relatives or friends, or bought?
The “who would do what” was more of a matter of “who had
what”—someone who had the stones used for the imu was probably
the one to be in charge of the oven. Someone who could get limu
‘seaweed’ probably would bring it cleaned and ready to be used.
All of this was pre-planned, and of course there would be many
more details to be worked out than are necessary to explain here.
Approaching the day of the feast, the home where the event was
to be hosted became a focal point for drop-offs and a work center.
Not only was food being prepared, washed, chopped, mixed, and
seasoned, but flower lei and decorations were also being made,
sometimes by the same group of people and sometimes not. The imu
was dug and the fire lit to heat the stones. The pig was delivered and
“dressed,” or prepared for cooking.
On the day of the feast, before the guests arrived, the smaller
ones, under the supervision of older children or young adults, helped
prepare the tables and chairs and set up the decorations. Usually
the hosts were the ones in charge of barking out the orders. In our
family, I am told that my uncle and aunt’s lū‘au were so popular
that people stood on the sidewalk in a line that curved around the
neighborhood as they waited to be greeted.
This is an early missionary description of such a feast put on by
and for the locals.
[The food] is placed on the ground, before the group
for whom it is designed, who, lounging on their mats
in the attitude of the ancient Romans, partake of it with
one hand, while they recline upon the other. Servants
separate the meat with their hands, wiping them
occasionally in their mouths or on their naked arms or
legs; after which, all eat from the same dishes, using their
fingers in place of forks and spoons. (Stewart 134–135)

Today, the lū‘au is elevated onto a table surrounded by chairs

rather than being on the ground. But there is still the monumental
272    Ho‘onohonoho

The baked pig and the laulau bundles of kī-leaf wrapped foods are taken out of the
underground imu.

task of cleaning up with the goal of getting the household back

to its normal living condition as quickly as possible. I don’t recall
something called a clean-up committee. It was done when most of
the guests had left and the entertainment had become more family
oriented or had stopped altogether. Everyone except my brother,
who was handicapped, spontaneously started to grab things and
move them. Rubbish was collected and dumped, chairs folded, table
matting crumpled and discarded, and food taken to the kitchen
where a massive washing detail was in progress. Soon enough, there
was only a tent standing. The lū‘au was a complete success.
What was going on here? What happened to the stereotype of
the lazy Native Hawaiian kānaka who could only play their ‘ukulele
under the shade of a tree instead of doing hard manual labor?
When one starts to analyze this whole process, one can see several
managerial practices being utilized effectively. First of all, there is
the planning and development of goals and of objectives designed to
achieve those goals. There occurs a meeting or conversations to pre-
plan, which involves several things: an inventory of human and natural
resources needed to accomplish the goal (the planning of the menu),
an assessment of facilities (where we are going to have the lū‘au), and a
timetable for deadlines, which were mentally recorded.
 No Nā Mamo  273

What follows are networking to obtain goods and services

(getting ‘ōpihi and other hard-to-find foods and goods), the
allocation and designation of resources and assignments (what aunt
so-and-so is going to make, and whether uncle is in charge of the
imu), and the purchasing of any materials and their storage (paper
plates, napkins, etc.). There begins the assignments of tasks (so-and-
so is to be in charge of . . .) and allocation of tasks to personnel (who
are mostly junior or younger members).
As the event approaches, the coordination of certain tasks is
done. For example, foods that can be prepared several days ahead
are prepared and frozen. The day before the event, one can see the
pace of activities accelerate as members work on pre-assigned tasks,
either learning new and simple tasks or heading for tasks they already
have skills in. For instance, the preparation of ake, or raw liver, is a
delicate task that requires specific skills, and hence, only those with
experience are allowed to do it.
Arguments over processes and assignments are usually arbitrated
by the host or senior members of the family. In what I can remember
of such incidents, experience is usually the guide as to what method
or what person is chosen.
With an inherent understanding of the goal, that is, the success
of the lū‘au, and a display of hospitality, it is no wonder no clean-
up committee is necessary to follow up at the end. I have even seen
guests picking up litter and trays as they leave and emptying them in
garbage cans on their way out to their cars. It may be that most of the
guests are relatives or friends and their instinctive action provides a
lead for others to follow. It certainly emphasizes the point that they
are not hired help brought in to pick up the dirty dishes.
This entire process of feasting demonstrates an ability at
organization and management that is phenomenal and can be found
with many other indigenous peoples where feasting plays such an
important role. It also shows that fundamental elements emphasized
in modern techniques of management are also being practiced in
traditional societies, and therefore, are not necessarily strange or
foreign to indigenous peoples.
Now let us consider the harder questions. Would it be possible
for a corporate type of organization to have done the same thing,
274    Ho‘onohonoho

that is, to organize and put on such a feast for perhaps hundreds of
people, with the same sort of budget and resources? And then, why
is it that Native Hawaiians seem to have difficulties, either creating
corporations or heading them if we are so successful in an operation
like feasting? What makes the lū‘au a success?
I believe one answer lies in relationships; the kinship, obligations,
respect, and honor, and the need to reciprocate are the motivation
that creates the desire for success. This is the cultural element, and I
think it is an element that corporate management really strives hard
to foster among its mostly non-related employees to achieve success.
But it does seem to be elusive in a corporate culture.
I remember my father, who, in his younger days with his friends,
loved to build stone walls in a local masonry style. One day his boss
at work needed a stone wall built at his house, and my father went
there to help him build it. He told me later that after it was all done,
his boss wanted to give him a hundred dollars for helping him. My
father was surprised and insulted, and although he never said why,
I believe it was because he did it out of friendship, out of heeding
the request of someone he knew and respected who needed help.
The payment, if there was to be one, might have come later when he
needed help too, not in the form of immediate cash.
This also reminds me of a story of two famous native carvers
from the Canadian Northwest, I believe they were Charles Edenshaw
and Mungo Martin, who would give each other gifts of their work.
The gift giving escalated as one tried to out-do the other. They soon
reached a point where they had to stop, for they had forgotten
that the initial reason for the gift giving was to further the bond
of friendship, and now the gifts were actually destroying that
relationship. In the end, it is the relationship that is important, not
the gifts or the act of giving. The item and the action are only means
to develop and strengthen the emotional bonds.
Borrowing a phrase I have heard in corporate management
meetings and workshops, how can non-related workers “buy in”
to such a level of cooperation and relationship? Although kinship
is a very influential factor in traditional society, I do not believe it
is the only contributing factor for the success of a lū‘au or for the
traditional examples of communal work we have seen. Relationships,
 No Nā Mamo  275

particularly among non-relatives, are built upon not only reciprocity

of obligations but, I believe, more importantly, upon respect and
trust. How can one create that among non-kin folk?

Culturally based Management: Some Stories

I have worked at several organizations and agencies whose
main purpose or mission is to help Native Hawaiians. There has
always been a lingering question about whether they are Hawaiian
organizations or organizations that just happen to serve Hawaiians?
What would it mean to be a Hawaiian organization? Does that mean
having more Native Hawaiians as workers at all levels, especially at
the top? Does it mean using the Hawaiian language? And perhaps
most importantly, does it mean adopting Hawaiian culture as part of
how business is done?
At two of those organizations, the top levels were indeed
occupied by Native Hawaiians, elected or appointed. At both
places at least a token amount of Hawaiian language was used,
especially as greetings over the telephone. At both places, to a
limited degree, some form of Hawaiian culture was encouraged,
usually as a social means of bringing the staff together. Native and
non-native staff-members were also encouraged to learn more
about Hawaiian culture and society as a means of being better able
to understand and communicate with clientele. One of my tasks
was to develop materials and workshops to help facilitate that
learning and appreciation. When I think back, both at times even
used ho‘oponopono as a means to attempt to reconcile personality
conflicts and disagreements. In both cases, it worked for about two
weeks before things reverted back to business as usual.
The story of the third organization is much longer and more
detailed because there had been a serious effort made to change the
way services were being provided to people.
In an effort to promote better access, appropriateness, and
accessibility of services for Native Hawaiians, we spent hours upon
hours talking about the way things were actually being done and
about how we could integrate culture into our work. We developed a
list of guiding principles to improve such services. Among the ways
we thought we could improve accessibility were the following:
276    Ho‘onohonoho

Staff should be sensitized through appropriate training in the

history, culture, values, and needs of the population they intend to
reach and serve.
Staff should familiarize themselves with and respectfully
acknowledge the issues of importance to Native Hawaiians.
There should be a mechanism in place to provide ongoing
assessment and evaluation of staff sensitivity to client needs.
Programs should provide a setting in which sensitivity,
supportiveness, and mutual respect can flourish.
Programs should promote the appropriate integration of traditional
Native Hawaiian [practices] into existing services.

All nicely said and well intended, but nothing was done. There
was a lot of resistance. There were a lot of excuses, but I think the most
important one, and the least said, was that people didn’t know how to
do it. We had developed some very good and high-minded principles,
and people agreed with them, but we didn’t really have a course of
action for how to implement them within a bureaucratic system. A
majority of the staff knew that they had to do something different,
and many of the non-natives and some of the younger native workers
realized that this meant they needed to really make an effort in order
to understand and learn another culture (Hawaiian). Although as an
organization we were still cautious about imposing things on workers,
we concluded that it was critical for each staff member to accept and
understand their own culture. However, there was still reluctance to
impose upon staff, and it was always hoped that change would come
from an individual’s own motivation and good will.
It was also painfully recognized that many of the families served
by the organization did not have a deep cultural base and were
struggling to get by in modern Hawai‘i, too. The organization’s
leadership recognized this situation as an opportunity to become
a cultural bridge for both staff and families so we could be the
best helpers in their lives. These were very fine and high-minded
principles, which, over time, could easily be forgotten. However, we
did a most unusual thing, albeit half-heartedly, in order to prevent
that. The staff was given the opportunity to explore and examine its
own organizational culture.
 No Nā Mamo  277

A committee was formed to determine the core competencies

needed to do our work and to relate those competencies to core
values that would guide that work. We framed the core values
as taking care of each other; working together and building
relationships; striving for pono; sharing compassion; and believing
(trusting) in the capacity and capabilities (resiliency) of others and
self. This language made it easier to translate and transform them
into Hawaiian concepts and terms, and this is what we came up with:

1. Laulima — Cooperation is the key to success

2. Po‘okela — Strive to do your best
3. Kuleana — Consider the feeling of others
4. Aloha — Love one another
5. Kūpono — Trust in each other

Even with this list, a note of explanation had to be attached

because some staff had particular and personal interpretations of
those Hawaiian terms we wanted to use. We would have had a Tower
of Babel unless we could develop a common understanding of that
final list of terms.
It had taken seven years for us to come to this point, and there
was still some resistance, and some outright rejection, but now
among only a small number of workers. Discussion and dialogue,
workshops, retreats, and countless administrative meetings slowly
furthered this process until the turning point occurred at a gathering
for everyone. We listened to an outside consultant, who was a Pacific
Islander, tell a story about “two giants” who symbolized the two
different approaches being used and advocated to accomplish the
organization’s goals.
The metaphor of two competing giants, who used the same
resources in each trying to out-do the other with neither ever
being able to complete the task, was compelling. The story was so
memorable that for some time thereafter the staff kept referring to
the “two giants.”
Something clicked among some very influential workers, for they
met that evening, and when everyone gathered again the next day,
this group presented a response by telling a story they had created.
278    Ho‘onohonoho

Their story was a like a dream and a nightmare and, in hindsight,

it spoke about their own understanding of what they had heard the
morning before. They were now retelling it in their own way.
They believed they were on an island where they had found a
baby that had drifted there and needed help, and they were able
to help. This was satisfying and gratifying to them. As time passed
they helped more and more babies who drifted ashore until one day
they realized that they were surrounded by too many infants. They
had neither the will nor the resources to help them all anymore.
They realized that so much effort had been placed upon helping
individuals that they did not realize that something greater was
happening elsewhere which was the source of the problem of
drifting babies, and that unless they knew, understood, and could do
something about it they would keep doing what they had always been
doing, only benefiting a few.
Finally all the documents, guiding principles, and statements
made sense to them. Culture as the way their clients were living and
responding or not responding to the world is the source, the cultural
base, to which they truly needed to guide their clients to be able to
make the most appropriate responses and help.
This new enthusiasm turned into a set of organizational
documents that, in turn, needed to be translated into something
that could be easily conceptualized. Here we turned to a graphical
illustration of what this culturally based management might look like.
We chose a linear or horizontal direction to emphasize that cultural
practices remain constant as the primary basis for the decision-
making, planning, and actions that ultimately result in the outcomes.
On the left, a circle of images represented the various aspects
of Hawaiian culture—language, performing and visual arts, elders,
and family—that were important for the organization. To the right
of this, five framed images represented visualizations of the five
values chosen to guide our work (aloha, laulima, kūpono, kuleana,
and po‘okela). And to the right of these, a table surrounded by
chairs represented the importance of discussion and dialogue. A
row of chevrons in the background indicated the directional flow of
the implementation of these ideas by everyone in the organization,
whether the chief executive officer, office staff, or groundskeepers.
 No Nā Mamo  279

And looming above all the stages was a Hawaiian proverb from
Pukui: “Hili hewa ka mana‘o ke ‘ole ke kūkākūkā ‘Discussion brings
ideas together in a plan’” (‘Ōlelo No‘eau 106–107).
This proverb was central to the experience we had had up to
that point. What had seemed to be endless meetings underscored
how important discussion and dialogue were for those people who
would be affected by any decision. We realized that if people could be
involved from a very early stage, could be heard and valued, and then
be a part of the decision making process, they would, more than likely,
buy in to the change. The process, as it emerged, used elements and
skills taken from ho‘oponopono to help facilitate focused discussion.
It also provided opportunities for those gathered to value, recognize,
and affirm diverse opinions and to work for an agreement by all.
The final step, illustrated on the extreme right of the graphic
to represent the end point of the process, was the involvement of
our clients. As the users of our programs and services, they needed
to have a voice in the process that would create those programs
and services and in the partnership through which they would be
delivered. As an organization, we would no longer be working for
our clients, but working with them.
The graphical representation had been the culmination of a
process that brought all the shareholders together to create a model
that we thought gave us a chance to improve how we accomplished
our work. However, this model was never implemented. By the time
we had been able to put it all together from concepts down to graphic
art, the leadership had changed, and they were no longer interested
in culture as the basis for the management. This was a major
disappointment for many, including me, who had put so much effort
and trust into this process. But in hindsight, it was a valuable exercise
that would be a great resource for others the next time around.

Hana Hou, Another Attempt

Several years later, a step in that direction was taken at a
workshop attended by Native American, Hawaiian, and Canadian
elders and youths. As their facilitator, I knew this was a diverse
group with some participants attending for the first time, and it was
important for them to discover some common understanding and
280    Ho‘onohonoho

bond. I used a simplified model of the process described above to

elicit from each participant what he or she believed were important
virtues and values of their native culture. Many of the participants
told stories or gave examples from their personal experience to
describe what they meant, and through this discussion we were able
to develop a list.
When our list was getting long and people were becoming
exhausted, we moved to the next task. This was to describe how
they practiced those listed virtues and values among their families,
communities, and people. Again, many stories were told, and a long
list was developed.
These two lists identified their shared cultural base, which led to
the next question: What virtues and values did they carry over into
their organization, in this case a church? This time, they listed and
described aspects of their native ministry and discovered that many
of these also applied to cultural activities and practices done outside
of the church organization.
But, they also spoke of a frustration for the limitations cultural
practices had in a non-native organization and of their desire to be
an indigenous church. This led to asking them what more they would
need to do to have a church that they felt was home. Once again,
they were able to provide several ideas and descriptive stories of their
experiences in what they termed a “journey.”
In reviewing all the lists and ideas, we sat back in awe at how much
effort had been put in, and people began to see things in a new way.

We all realized how important it was to discover a common

cultural base of virtues and values from which we could share
our own experiences and stories. In doing so, we also became
more familiar with each other, going beyond introductions to
a deeper understanding of each other.
We realized how important the sharing of stories and
personal experiences were for teaching and transmitting
cultural wisdom that cannot be defined in single words or
short phrases. We really appreciated the stories as a means of
indigenous communication that should not be dismissed or
demeaned.
 No Nā Mamo  281

We acknowledged that all this took time. Time was needed

to tell all the stories, and time was needed to listen, to
comprehend, and to reflect.
We discovered that when cultural virtues and values are
practiced in an organization as they are in families and
communities and among the people where they originated,
there is less tension and anxiety, especially among indigenous
peoples, stemming from not understanding what is expected
of them.
We realized that an organization that wants to be indigenous
needs to be clearly committed to being supportive and
encouraging. We know from experience that limited, or
qualified, commitment leads to tokenism and failure.
We believed that from this process a truly indigenous
organization can be developed, its operations and
administration defined and described by the cultural
experiences and stories we have in us and by the ways they
appear in practice in our daily lives. In this regard, we must
create a multitude of opportunities for those, both native and
non-native, who do not share our common cultural base to
do the things that will reinforce our stories and allow them to
actively participate and to be able to tell their own stories.

Culture and Business

There is another side of our traditions that few people appreciate,
most likely because many of us have not taken the time and effort
to read accounts of the very earliest encounters between Native
Hawaiians and the Euro-American explorers, adventurers who
basically stumbled upon these islands. From the arrival of Cook in
1778 until nearly sixty years later, the journals and diaries of captains
and crew are full of interesting first-hand observations, including
many on the subject of trade.
When we relive these events through their eyes and words, we
must remember that the Europeans, and later the Americans, did
not know that these encounters represented the end of a nearly five-
hundred-year period of isolation. From these accounts we can learn
what, if anything, Native Hawaiians understood about business.
282    Ho‘onohonoho

Trading as the First Encounter: This Little Piggy Went to

Market
The first encounter of the Hawaiians with the ships led by
Captain James Cook upon their unanticipated arrival at Ni‘ihau and
Kaua‘i took place in January of 1778. It was far from the romantic
image of friendly hordes of natives in canoes, and there is no
evidence that the Hawaiians thought these Western explorers could
be gods. The encounter appears to have been prompted by curiosity
and suspicion and to have ended with trading.
The English saw the canoes approaching, and when they got
close, they were greeted in a language so similar to the Tahitian the
English had learned while in Tahiti that the two groups were able
to communicate. Cook noted that the canoes had piles of stones
in them that he thought the natives had brought along to defend
themselves, but having no need of them, they dumped them into the
ocean. The natives in the canoes could not be convinced to board
the ships, so Cook lowered some brass medals tied to a line, and the
natives returned the line with ‘ākule ‘mackerel’ tied to it. This was
done again and some small nails were given, which Cook noted the
natives valued “more than any other article” (192). Cook wrote
For these they exchanged more fish, and a sweet potatoe;
a sure sign that they had some notion of bartering; or,
at least, of returning one present for another. They had
nothing else in their canoes, except some large gourd
shells, and a kind of fishing-net; but one of them offered
for sale the piece of stuff that he wore round his waist,
after the manner of the other islands. (192)

And then,
As soon as we made sail, the canoes left us; but others
came off, as we proceeded along the coast, bringing with
them roasting-pigs, and some very fine potatoes, which
they exchanged, as the others had done, for whatever
was offered to them. Several small pigs were purchased
for a sixpenny nail; so that we again found ourselves in a
land of plenty [. . .]. (193)
 No Nā Mamo  283

However, when the English changed their trade items, they

learned how practical the natives were.
When we shewed them some beads, they asked first,
“What they were; and then, whether they should eat
them.” But on their being told, that they were to be
hung in their ears, they returned them as useless. They
were equally indifferent as to a looking-glass, which was
offered them, and returned it, for the same reason; but
sufficiently expressed their desire for hamaite and toe
[names for iron and the face of an adze], which they
wished might be very large. (Cook 194–195)

Cook’s detailed observation of the Hawaiian reaction to the

infamous trade bead reveals that Hawaiians recognized value in
certain items and that value was based upon desirability for use, not
for beauty or adornment. Hence, trade beads were “useless,” but iron
was desired because it could be made into rare and valuable tools.
Without the presence of any chiefs, the Hawaiians of these very
first encounters showed a remarkable understanding of how to
interact with such total strangers. The English were, at first, taken
aback when the Hawaiians came on board the ships and, awed by
what they saw, attempted to take all sorts of objects. In order to stop
such behavior, Cook had to establish the idea of trading, rather than
taking, or in his words, stealing (195), as the means to acquire goods
they desired. The Hawaiians got the message and complied so well
that Cook made the following observation.
These people merited our best commendations, in this
commerical intercourse, never once attempting to cheat
us, either ashore, or along-side the ships. Some of them,
indeed, as already mentioned, at first betrayed a thievish
disposition; or rather, they thought, that they had a right
to every thing they could lay their hands upon; but they
soon laid aside a conduct, which, we convinced them,
they could not persevere in with impunity. (205)

When the next foreign explorer, La Pérouse, captain of a French

scientific expedition, arrived at the islands of Hawai‘i and Maui, he
284    Ho‘onohonoho

would notice that trading with the natives was not as easy. He noted
in May of 1786 that the Hawaiians were now well aware of the value
of the items they had to trade and of what they wanted in return.
Our pieces of old iron hoop strongly excited their
desires, and they showed no want of address in making
a good bargain to procure them. They steadily refused
to sell any quantity of cloth or number of hogs in the
wholesale way, aware that they might derive more profit
by the separate sale of each individual article. (41)

After the turn of the century, Russian explorers would comment

on how much more accommodating and sophisticated native traders
had become in dealing with foreigners through learning of foreign
language(s) and customs. Captain Lisianskii’s account from 1804
illustrates this change.
Coming up onto the deck, the first islander grasped
the hand of everyone he met with the words “How
do you do?” He had picked the phrase up from some
Englishman or other living on the island, of course. [. . .]
The first had brought out a hog weighing some two and
a half pood. Broadcloth was requested in exchange for it.
There being none aboard, the natives carried it back to
the shore. (Barratt 29)

He also noted how their needs and wants had changed in the
eighteen years since La Pérouse’s visit, iron hoops no longer being
the prized commodity they had been.
Though the islanders were exchanging their goods for
knives or small mirrors readily enough, it was our printed
cloth and striped ticking that they really prized. [. . .] And
they put a high value even on plain canvas. On the other
hand, they would hardly deign to look at the iron hoops
with which we were, it seemed, too abundantly supplied.
(Barratt 31)

Lisianskii is describing a classic case of the concept of supply

and demand. Iron had become commonplace, and the new desired
 No Nā Mamo  285

commodity was woven cloth. If they couldn’t get that, then the
Hawaiians didn’t want to trade at all. He even noted that in just a
month’s time the price of things had increased: On 15 June, trade
continued as before, only evertything [sic] except birds became more
expensive. (Barratt 35)
When Lisianskii returned ten years later, in 1814, he complained
about the disadvantage foreign ships were at when it came to trade,
even going so far as to blame other foreigners, in particular naive
American whalers, for spoiling the system by, apparently, being too
generous in their dealings.
[. . .] the natives were the worst of profiteers. By general
agreement, they would firmly maintain the price of any
ware that one of them had sold us. And should one man
happen to make a good sale, it was known in all the craft
around. At once, all demanded the same price for a similar
article. Iron, which was once held in great esteem here,
is now worth almost nothing, though the islanders will
still take it quite willingly in the form of bars. During our
own stay, the most wanted goods were simple canvas,
printed cloth, scissors, little knives with pretty handles,
and mirrors. For the pieces of iron hoop that secured us
six or ten coconuts or two bunches of bananas on the
island of Nuku Giva [Nuku Hiva], we could get only the
most insignificant objects at Karekekua [Kealakekua].
Ovigi [Hawai‘i] has indeed changed greatly over the past
ten years, everything now being far more expensive than
earlier, as the appended price list shows. The prevalence of
these high prices must certainly be attributed to the United
States vessels, as many as eighteen of which sometimes call
in a single summer to take on all the provisions needed for
the remainder of their voyages. (Barratt 46)

His fellow Russian explorer, Golovnin, arrived in the islands in

1818 and also commented on the high prices for commodities and
the increased skill of the chiefs in manipulating the market. He noted
their sophistication in collecting information about the arriving
foreign ships, their crews, and their cargo to use as an advantage in
trading.
286    Ho‘onohonoho

[. . .] the inhabitants brought quantities of vegetables,

fruit, and chickens for sale, but no hogs. However, the
prices were so high that it did not pay to buy anything;
for instance, in exchange for two watermelons they
wanted a jackknife or a tableknife or a pair of scissors;
the same was asked for a melon. Iron they valued at next
to nothing, and offered mere trifles in exchange for sheet
copper. (177)

The Sandwich Islanders have become very expert and

prudent in their trade, especially their ruler, Tameamea.
The proof of this is the fact that he employs several men
from among the chiefs of lower rank who speak some
English, whose duties consist of visiting foreign ships
and finding out from the sailors the type and amount
of cargo and the number of people aboard, so that
Tameamea may set his price for goods and provisions
accordingly. (203)

When the first American scientific expedition arrived in the

islands in 1840 under the command of Captain Charles Wilkes,
trading in Honolulu, at least, had evolved to become a very real
market economy. Pickering wrote that Honolulu “is a new and
flourishing commercial town,” adding that “[i]t was a novelty in
Polynesia to see persons along the roads, bringing wood, charcoal,
and provisions of various kinds, to supply a market” (88). But in
the countryside coins were not yet in use. Pickering described
arriving “at the coast about twenty miles from Hilo [. . .] and we
even experienced difficulty in purchasing provisions, as coin was not
valued” (95).
In a span of about sixty years, Native Hawaiians had developed
a very keen sense of trading, commodities, and dealing with
foreigners on their own terms. Through the observations recorded
in ships’ journals and other firsthand documentation, we can see the
development of keen and crucial skills by both chiefs and commoners
in order to become serious traders in a market economy. They had
learned these skills so well that ships’ captains would be prompted
to write their complaints, even as early as 1786, of the profiteering
nature of their native counterparts.
 No Nā Mamo  287

The Brave New World

In the 1980s, a lot of attention was given to the fact that few
Native Hawaiians were involved in the business world. One reporter
wrote,
[p]erhaps the biggest reason Hawaiians aren’t in business
is the recurring belief by Hawaiians themselves that
their culture and business don’t mix. [. . .] If the number
of Hawaiians who feel they can combine culture with
business increases, the chances are greater that a Hawaiian
business community will emerge. (Kephart 20, 22)

From the early explorers’ descriptions of trade and of the skill

the Hawaiians acquired in a span of just a few years, it would seem
that a vigorous business community might have evolved among
Native Hawaiians. But the case study of management in a Hawaiian
organization made it clear that this is not the case. The change seems
to have come in the shift from trade, in the sense of bartering, to a
market economy that used money. An editorial in The Polynesian
from 1848 sheds some light on the much more difficult time Native
Hawaiians had in making the transition to the abstract concepts of
time and money.
Much has been said against Hawaiians on the score
of their business transactions—want of punctuality in
engagements; a disposition to overreach—deception and
dishonesty. Hawaiians have had no time-pieces in ages
past; they have been accustomed to make no account of
time—they waste days and weeks without once dreaming
that they have lost any thing. [. . .] The deep poverty of
this people leads them to wish all they can get for the
trifles they may have to dispose of to foreign visitors.
They have seldom the means of estimating the actual
worth of what they carry to market; but their own wants
and destitution they do know; and these are often the exact
measures of their demands. (“Piety or No Piety” 33)

Because I have condensed the story of how we developed a

working model for cultural management, I have failed to really
288    Ho‘onohonoho

express how long it took to develop and the extent of the emotional
struggle for all those involved. The integration of traditional culture
and corporate culture is not an easy task. The dominance of Western
culture with its emphasis on non-relational hierarchy and a style of
corporate structure that doesn’t easily integrate cultural ways makes
it even more difficult. It is easier to slip into token measures such as
using Hawaiian terms for non-cultural policies and standards than it
is to truly integrate the two.
The choice of culturally based management is a deliberate one,
and its integrity is based upon keeping it as the standard. But what
can an organization expect to gain from making that choice? As
we have seen from the examples of the familial (feasting) and the
organizational (corporate) models, the key elements are relationships
and trust. In terms of management, those two elements can translate
into long-term loyalty, increased efficiency and production, better
personnel interaction and cooperation, staff “buy-in,” easier
transitions to change, and, possibly, more Native Hawaiians involved
in business. It might also answer the bedeviling question of whether
an organization is a Hawaiian organization or an organization that
serves Hawaiians.
Traditional Hawaiian society, from the examples we have seen,
utilized methods of management that no longer function today.
However, when we look at how early Hawaiian society functioned, we
are amazed at the results of these practices in comparison to some of
the styles and systems of management used today. This has prompted
serious interest in adapting some traditional ways in modern life for
the regulation of such things as fishing and water usage.
Today much of management is focused upon outcomes like
profit margins, efficiency, and compliance to regulations and laws.
Accomplishing those kinds of outcomes often comes at a human
cost of interpersonal relationships and community, and for Native
Hawaiians those kinds of situations can be a source of conflict that
needs to be reconciled through the integration of cultural practices
into corporate life. And the extension of culturally based concepts
into corporate culture might work if there were an organization bold
and brave enough to take a risk in moving the theory and model into
reality.
 No Nā Mamo  289

11 Kapu
Gender Roles in Traditional Society

He hana nui loa ka ai kapu ma Hawaii nei, he hana kue loa, he hana
kaumaha he hana pono ole loa, iwaena o ke kane a me kana wahine iho [. . .]
Malo, Ka Mo‘olelo Hawai‘i

O na kane no hoi kekahi poe loea ma ke ano hana malo a me ka

pau wahine. He poe hapa no nae ka poe i ao ia ma ia aoao; ua kapa
ia lakou o ka poe hooluu a kapalapala a Ehu.
Kamakau, The Works of the People of Old

Not long ago the word kapu posted on a tree or fence meant
“keep out” and, being in Hawaiian, it seemed a polite way to phrase
a warning. To many visitors, not knowing Hawaiian, it didn’t mean
anything, or as some local comedians suggested, it may have been
someone’s name. The “keep out” warning actually comes from a
tradition of kapu as restricted or prohibited, and in that sense it
is usually associated with traditional Hawaiian religion. However,
keeping people away from a sacred site is only part of the meaning
of kapu. Its origins and its traditional usage have more to do with
the separation of gender roles than with traditional religion. For this
reason, I have chosen the word kapu to be the title of this discussion
of gender roles. We do not have a word for gender roles in Hawaiian.
The kapu, which created many of the roles for men and women in
traditional Hawaiian life, comes closest to describing this idea.
A discussion about the roles of men and women is also bound to
touch upon sex and sexuality. Most of the traditions, oral or printed,
were far more open about sex and sexuality than we are in today’s
culture. This discussion can help reveal how our own thinking,
prejudices, and world view influence the way we look at traditions
concerning gender roles and sexuality.

The Traditions of Wākea and Papa

The separation of roles and tasks—and even of the act of eating
together—by the kapu was due to an incident caused by sexual desire
in the marriage of the chiefs Wākea and Papa. It is hard to imagine
how such an event resulted in dictating what men and women do
290  Kapu

every day of their lives. But this event was powerful enough to define
religion and politics for traditional Hawaiian society.
It began with the chief Wākea’s desire to secretly sleep ‘moe malu’
with his daughter Ho‘ohōkūkalani without having her mother, his
wife, Papa, know. A bargain was struck between Wākea and his priest,
Komo‘awa, as a way to seclude Papa away for four nights. In return for
her separation from Wākea it was declared that certain foods would
be kapu or restricted for women to eat, and that women would not eat
with men in the mua or men’s house. Papa agreed to these orders.
After Wākea and Ho‘ohōkūkalani had slept together, Komo‘awa
tried to wake Wākea from his sleep so the chief could sneak back to
the men’s house, but even with the reciting of a prayer chant, saying
it louder and louder, Komo‘awa could not wake Wākea.
When the daylight came, Wākea finally got up and
covered (pūlo‘u) [his head] with a kapa [bark cloth]. He
returned to the mua thinking that Papa had not seen
him. But Papa had seen Wākea and she quickly ran and
entered into the mua and quarreled with him. Wākea
tried to appease (hoihoi) Papa by saying “sweet” things
(me ka ho‘ole‘ale‘a). Papa was appeased and they were
separated. (Malo 294)

Malo tells us the foods prohibited for women to eat in an act

called ‘ai kapu ‘restricted foods or eating’ were pigs, coconuts,
bananas, red colored fish such as kūmū ‘goatfish,’ and other types of
fish such as ulua ‘jackfish,’ shark ‘manō niuhi,’ turtle ‘honu and ‘ea,’
pahu ‘trunkfish,’ porpoise ‘na‘ia and nu‘ao,’ whale ‘koholā,’ manta
and sting ray ‘hīhīlua, hailepo, and hīhīmanu.’ However, he adds,
“[t]his list is incomplete of these things that could cause a woman
to be put to death for eating these things while she was carefully
watched” (158–159).
Another result of this incident was the banning of women from
entering into the mua, or men’s house, where the men worshiped
and ate, and the banning of men from entering the hale pe‘a, or
house for menstruation. The penalty for anyone breaking the ban
was death. “The husband could go in only into the wife’s hale ‘aina
[eating house], but the wife could not enter into the husband’s mua
 No Nā Mamo  291

[because it was considered kapu]” (Malo 159). The men’s eating

house, or mua, served also as their place of worship and for the
initiation of young boys to adulthood, and this could be a major
reason why women were not allowed there. In fact, Kamakau states
that it was the “ceremonial offering of ‘awa” that made the mua
restricted, hence, men and women were kept to separate houses (The
Works 132).
This event was important enough to be recalled and woven into
in the creation chant Kumulipo, although in a different form than the
account described by Malo.
We learn from lines 1800 and 1801 of the chant that two of
the sacred or restricted ‘kapu’ nights were called Kāne and Hilo
(Beckwith, The Kumulipo 124), but the restricted plants and foods
are very different from those described by Malo. They are called “ ‘ai
lani makua,” ‘parental heavenly’ or ‘chiefly’ foods, and included the
“ ‘ape” which is itchy, “ ‘akia” which is bitter, “ ‘auhuhu” which is
insipid, “ ‘uhaloa” which is medicinal and the “la‘alo,” a type of kalo
which is “manewanewa,” a term used to describe rites to counteract
a family curse of sickness (Beckwith, The Kumulipo 233). It may
be that these plants, called ‘ai lani or “heavenly food,” had a sacred
connotation and as such, were another category of things made kapu,
or prohibited, for women.
Wākea’s secret desire turned into something greater than
he might have bargained for, and it would have developed like a
bad cover-up to a major crime unless it was used to explain the
differing roles of men and women. It established what is known as
the kapu system which divided roles and labor between genders;
set restrictions on whom one could eat with and what one could
eat; evolved into a system of rank and status, and the protection
of both, for the ali‘i or ruling chiefs; set up the priesthood as
the intermediaries for the ali‘i and created a government that
incorporated religion into its ruling system. The kapu system defined
how people lived until it ended in 1819.
This very restricted and divisive system of governance and
living has been portrayed in many accounts of Hawai‘i and has often
led to the questioning of traditional ways. But it is clear that this
questioning is greatly influenced by modern perceptions of the roles
292  Kapu

of women and men. For example, it was once questioned in cultural

quarrels as to whether it was “culturally correct” for women to paddle
canoes, especially when the time came to consider if women could
compete in the canoe competition from the island of Moloka‘i to
Honolulu. This bias, according to Linnekin, can also be found in the
way Hawaiian society has been interpreted and analyzed. She quotes
a recent study by Valerio Valeri to demonstrate this point.
Women are excluded from the production and cooking
of these [important] foods. . . . At most, they are given
the task of appropriating some secondary foods—which
in a way are “residual,” like the women themselves:
shellfish, mollusks, seaweed, small crustaceans, and so
on. Sometimes they are able to grow sweet potatoes
(‘uala), a little-prized tuber reserved for marginal land,
which has the dubious honor of being associated with
the excrement of the pig Kamapua‘a. (Linnekin vii)

Linnekin takes Valeri to task writing, “Valeri’s characterization

of Hawaiian women as ‘marginal’ and ‘passive’ in the context of the
sacrificial religion strikes me as a characteristically Western male
view of women and moreover, if I may be forgiven for indulging in a
stereotype myself, a very Mediterranean male attitude” (viii).

Gender Roles in Pre-contact and Post-contact Hawai‘i

The traditions are pretty clear that the separation caused by the
‘ai kapu was a fundamental part of Hawaiian life. Accounts of the
segregation of women from much of the religious and political life of
temple worship are generally true. Women were not allowed into the
temple grounds. Instead they had to worship at a smaller site located
outside. As Malo states, “the husband did all the key outdoor tasks
and his wife did the indoor tasks [. . .]” (159).
It is easy to imagine the separation of tasks based upon gender
where men do all the hard labor such as farming and fishing and
women do tasks associated with, or located near, the home such as
making kapa or bark clothing, and gathering shellfish and seaweeds
along the shore. This is a simple picture and follows a pattern of
society that has been taught for a very long time. However, because
 No Nā Mamo  293

This detail of the household of Kālaimoku (Kalanimoku) from

“Îles Sandwich: Maisons de Kraimokou, 1819” by J. Alphonse
Pellion shows a woman beating kapa and a man holding the tools
of battle.

of the ‘ai kapu, men were also responsible for the cooking and
preparation of food. This is probably due to the prohibition banning
women from touching and eating the various foodstuffs. Kamakau
agrees with Malo, but he adds something more.
All the work outside the house was performed by the
men, such as tilling the ground, fishing, cooking in the
imu, and furnishing whatever the women needed in the
house. This was the common rule on Kauai, Oahu, and
Molokai, but on Maui and Hawaii the women worked
outside as hard as the men, often cooking, tilling the
ground, and performing the duties in the house as well.
At the time when Kamehameha took over the rule from
Hawaii to Oahu it was not uncommon to see the women
of Hawaii packing food on their backs, cooking it in the
294  Kapu

imu, and cultivating the land or even going fishing with

the men. On Maui the men showed their wives where
their patches were and while they went to do other work
the women brought the food and firewood from the
uplands and cared for the imu. (Ruling Chiefs 238–239)

We cannot be sure of the period of time Kamakau is referring

to, whether he is talking about pre- or post-contact island life,
but his reference to the time after Kamehameha established rule
over all the islands (1810) may indicate the loss of numbers in the
male population due to warfare and or foreign diseases. Conflicts
throughout history repeatedly show how warfare reduced the
number of males in a society and affected the jobs that had been
traditionally dominated by men.
Many of the traditions show pre-contact society to be more
complex and flexible. We know that men were the priests and
that religion was male dominated. Even the “major” gods of the
temples were male gods. Major roles in traditional society were male
dominated, such that “[t]he composers of genealogical chants such
as the ko‘ihonua, ha‘ikupuna, and kamakua, were men learned in
the art who knew the family lines and were skilled in oratory and
state-craft” (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 241). Yet, there is an obscure
reference made on the last day before the ships of Cook’s expedition
left after he was killed, about the role of women as possible priests on
the island of Ni‘ihau. It is from the journal of James Burney who was
on the H.M.S. Discovery and reports
There are at Neehou many priests and, what we have not
seen at any other of these Islands, priestesses, who all
act as if they were inspired by some supernatural power,
performing numberless mad and strange pranks. (11)

David Samwell, one of the surgeons, identified the old woman

who encountered Captain Cook when the British went ashore on the
island of Ni‘ihau as Waratoi or Walako‘i. He made this entry in his
journal for January 31.
[. . .] she performed daily some religious Ceremonies
as we supposed them to be, & offered Up some small
 No Nā Mamo  295

pigs as Sacrifices for some purpose, and used many

Extravagant Gestures like the Thracian Priestesses of old
as if possessed with some fury [. . .] (Beaglehole 1,085)

When the British returned to the leeward islands of Kaua‘i and

Ni‘ihau, the old woman, Walako‘i, came specifically to see them.
Samwell recorded the event in his journal on Saturday, March 6,
1779.
This morning an elderly woman called Waratoi who had
made herself remarkable at Neehaw by her extravagant
behaviour when we were there last year, & was generally
known by the Name of the Mad Woman, arrived here
from that Island & came on board the Discovery; when
she came along side she made a Speech & on coming
upon deck shed Tears & seemed much affected at seeing
some of her old Acquaintance again, she was dressed
in the stile of a bedlamite with red & yellow rags flying
about her, however she had sense enough to cast them
off on having a better dress presented to her. (Beaglehole
1,226–1,227)

Later on Tuesday, March 9, 1779 her husband came to the

ships and Samwell describes him as being “mad as well as his Wife”
(Beaglehole 1,229). The next day, Wednesday, March 10, Samwell
would come to a conclusion about this order of priests.
[. . .] the Priests every day bring a small pig or two &
sacrifice them at the feet of some of the Gentlemen
ashore, at the same time making Speeches & using many
extravagant Gestures as if they were mad or inspired,
which make us doubt whether Waratoi & her Husband
be frantic or no as they both belong to the Priesthood [. . .]
(Beaglehole 1,229)

On Sunday, March 14, Walako‘i came back to the ships and

Samwell noticed that she was scarified from “her neck & shoulders
marked with blisters raised by the Caustic Juice of some Vegetable
which she had put on herself on receiving the News of the Death
of a great Chief at Atowai, whose name was Tairemai [Ka‘ilima‘i].”
296  Kapu

Samwell thought that she used the juice of the mokihana bush to
cause the welting (Beaglehole 1,230). And the next day as the British
set sail to find the furthest leeward they were told existed, Moku
papapa, Walako‘i and her husband got into a canoe with a gift of a
very large iron dagger and departed back home.
How did the British determine these people on Ni‘ihau to be
priests and priestesses? We do not know. However, the citation is
of great interest because Burney noted the role these women have is
different from what they have seen on the other islands.
It is also apparent from mythical traditions that women,
particularly those of rank and status, were involved in another,
typically male, role—warfare. In the traditions of ‘Aukelenuiaikū, the
high chief, a woman named NāmakaoKaha‘i appears with a feather
garment made for warfare ka pa‘u ai kaua (Fornander IV: 53). And in
historical traditions, Kamakau writes that on January 1783 at a battle
in Honolulu between the chiefs Kahekili of Maui and Kahahana of
O‘ahu, “Ka-hekili’s wife Kau-wahine was also a noted fighter” (Ruling
Chiefs 136). In fact, according to Malo, the lives of women chiefs and
those of rank and status (wāhine koikoi) were quite different from
that of their counterparts in farming and fishing communities.
As for the lives of women at the ali‘i(’s) residence, they
did not beat kapa nor stamp designs on to the pā‘ū(s)
and malo(s). [. . .] Composing mele [chants or songs] in
the name of the ali‘i(s) was a principle (sic) activity of
the women associated with the ali‘i. (183)

Women in the farming and fishing communities not only beat

and stamped designs on to bark clothing ‘kapa,’ they had to prepare
the inner bark of the wauke ‘paper mulberry,’ and to soften and
bleach it. They did the labor-intensive work of pounding the strips of
inner bark to produce a felt-like material suitable for clothing.
Women of the kua‘āina worked with their husbands.
They climbed [down] to the sea to bind in circular
bundles (he pi‘i nō i kai i pō‘a‘aha) Māmaki (uhai
Māmaki), Ma‘aloa, pōuluulu [Breadfruit shoots], and
palaholo. After gathering these materials (uhai) [they are
soaked in salt water to be soften (sic)], they are made into
 No Nā Mamo  297

kapa [bark cloth]. The women would beat these materials

into kapa, then designs were stamped on to the pā‘ū(s)
and malo(s). She supplied her husband, children, the
haku ‘āina(s) and friends, and even had some to trade for
what they lacked (kō lāua hemahema). (Malo 183)

As Linnekin suggests, this activity may have been a source of

power for women because the production of kapa was essential for
daily clothing, religious usage, and tribute gifts for the chiefs. Kapa
was in great demand, and these women were the main suppliers.
These [mats and kapa] are important tasks for women
which are very beneficial. Women’s work is known as
kū‘ono‘ono [wealth] and loea [skill] [. . .]. They were
considered to be a source of waiwai [wealth]. (Malo 171)

However, Kamakau reports that women did not make all the
kapa.
The furnishings for the inside of the house were made
by the women. [. . .] The women also made the tapa
coverings for the sleepers [. . .]. They made tapa also for
the clothing of men [. . .]. Men who were disinclined
to follow manly pursuits were taught to be experts in
making loincloths and women’s skirts and were called
“dyers and printers of Ehu.” (Ruling Chiefs 238)

Kamakau tells us men were the only ones who made a certain
type of kapa called hamo‘ula or kua‘ula.
The work of making hamo‘ula, or ribbed tapa [another
name for kua‘ula], was the work of men, not of women.
(The Works 112)

It was specially made in a site that covered two acres or more,

and it “was enclosed with a flimsy fence of palings two or three anana
in height. The palings were bound tightly, and dried banana leaves
were laid against the outside. This was the fence for the painting
and dyeing yard. All the supplies of the people inside were kapu”
(Kamakau, The Works 112).
298  Kapu

An elderly Samoan male beating tapa ‘kapa’ in Savai‘i, Sāmoa

Why was this particular type of kapa made by men and only by
men? Why the secrecy, for the finished product only supplied more
clothing for men and women?
Perhaps part of the answer comes from the fact that the
protectors of those who made and printed kapa were two sisters,
La‘ahana and Lauhuki, but ‘Ehu, the “originator of ribbed tapa,
kua‘ula, became the male ‘aumakua for those who colored kua‘ula,
hamo‘ula, waili‘ili‘i, u‘au‘a, and such tapas” (Kamakau, The Works
116). Did the dyers and makers of ribbed kapa need to have been
male, too? Or was there something particular about the tasks of
dyeing and making the ribbed grooves on the kapa that required only
men to be involved?
Knowing its cultural use or its importance might help to
determine why men were the only ones to make this particular kapa.
However, we are aware of only one culturally related example of the
use of ribbed kapa. A piece of ribbed kapa was found in one of only
 No Nā Mamo  299

two known examples of a unique sennit corded casket or kā‘ai. This

find may not represent its only cultural use, but at this point it is the
only example we have (Rose 37).
It is also important to re-examine what Kamakau had said
concerning this reversal of roles, and I have italicized the words for
emphasis: “Men who were disinclined to follow manly pursuits were
taught to be experts in making loincloths and women’s skirts and
were called ‘dyers and printers of Ehu’” (Ruling Chiefs 238). In the
original Hawaiian text it reads, “‘O nā kāne nō ho‘i kekahi po‘e loea
ma ke ‘ano hana malo a me ka pā‘ū wahine. He po‘e hapa nō na‘e
ka po‘e i a‘o ‘ia ma ia ‘ao‘ao; ua kapa ‘ia lākou ‘o ka po‘e ho‘olu‘u
a kāpalapala a ‘Ehu” (Kamakau, Ke Kumu Aupuni 233). We learn
from this that the men who were taught this art were called the dyers
and printers of designs of ‘Ehu, so this may indicate that at least
that portion of the work, with particular colors and designs, was a
male role. The part about “manly pursuits” is more ambiguous. The
word Kamakau uses is po‘e hapa which usually translates to “half,”
but in this case may mean of “limited” skills, or perhaps with some
disability. How the word “hapa” can be related to gender is a very
good question.

Aikāne: Just a Friend or a Whole Lot More?

The common problem of mistranslation, and subsequent
misunderstanding, of Hawaiian terms for gender roles is also found
in the word and role of the aikāne. Its current use as a term for men
to call a friend, or buddy, is interesting since its literal translation has
more of a sexual connotation.
A re-translation of aikāne as something more than a friend has to
take into consideration our modern attitudes and perceptions about
male gender roles and relations between men. For instance, it is a
stereotype today to make a judgment about the sexuality of men who
display female mannerisms. Yet in Nānā I Ke Kumu it was noted that
“[f]eminine appearance or a soft voice was not considered evidence
of homosexuality” (Pukui, Haertig, and Lee II: 110).
Captain King, one of the officers who accompanied Captain
Cook in 1778–79, wrote in his journal of the young chief Palea, who
is the declared aikāne of the ruling chief of Hawai‘i, Kalani‘ōpu‘u.
300  Kapu

This account can open our eyes and minds to a very different attitude
concerning male sexuality and its possible role in traditional society.
We must remember that the accounts written by the crew of Captain
Cook’s ships are the earliest written eyewitness accounts we have
of traditional Hawaiian society, and as such, contain details of the
actions seen as well as cultural attitudes of both native and foreigner.
Among the chiefs that came on board the Resolution was
a young man called Pareea, whom we soon perceived
to be a person of great authority. On presenting himself
to Captain Cook, he told him that he was jakanee to the
king of the island, who was at that time engaged on a
military expedition at Mowee, [. . .] it was observed that
the Discovery had such a number of people hanging on one
side, as occasioned her to heel considerably; [. . .] Captain
Cook being apprehensive that she might suffer some injury,
pointed out the danger to Pareea, who immediately went to
their assistance, cleared the ship of its encumbrances, and
drove away the canoes that surrounded her. (Barrow 385)

The young man’s authority was corroborated in the journal of

Mr. Burney.
Parreear was always zealous in advising & assisting to
punish offenders & several instances happened of his
beating them when we excused & let them go, and taking
their canoes from them. Indeed on all occasions Parreear
was proud of displaying his authority & frequently
without much feeling for his countrymen. (Sahlins,
Historical Metaphors, 43)

A modern analysis of this event is given by Anne Salmond in one

of the most recent re-interpretations of the events of Captain Cook’s
journey.
Palea, a handsome young man who soon confided that
he was Kalani‘opu‘u’s ‘aikane [male lover], seemed to
exercise considerable authority. After restoring order
on the decks of the ships, he escorted a small, emaciated
man named Koa‘a on board [. . .]. Koa‘a, a priest and
 No Nā Mamo  301

a distinguished warrior, approached Captain Cook

reverently, presenting him with a length of red bark-
cloth which he wrapped around his shoulders [. . . ]
before giving him a large pig and quantities of fruit and
root vegetables. After dinner in the Great Cabin, Koa‘a
and Palea conducted Cook, Lieutenant King and an
unarmed party ashore [. . .]. (The Trial 395)

Kamakau also identifies Palea’s relationship with Kalani‘ōpu‘u

as being aikāne (Ke Kumu Aupuni 54). The relationship of aikāne is
described by Davida Malo in his descriptions of the reign of several
ancient ruling chiefs. He says that during the reign of Līloa it was said
that the chief
[. . .] had hana ma‘i [masturbation] with a sleeping
companion. [. . .] in secrecy without letting anyone else
know [that he did so].

This is what was remembered during the time Līloa

reigned. Līloa had made a certain person his favorite
(punahele). [. . . ]

Upon Līloa(’s) death, people asked this punahele, “What

did you know [that got you] your punahele status from
Līloa?” This person said, “He performed hana ma‘i on
me on [between?] my thighs.”

The friends of theirs listened, and hence, moe ‘aikāne

[sleeping with companions] was well established (pa‘a loa)
from that time on until the time of Kamehameha I. (304)

Malo’s tradition of Līloa is looked upon as the earliest example

of the aikāne relationship, but Malo, in an earlier chapter, also tells
us that Wākea had an aikāne. This revelation was brought to light
after examining Malo’s original handwritten manuscript in a chapter
on the kauwā, or slaves, which had been revised so that portions
referring to aikāne were deleted. The following is the translation of
the unedited text, with the deleted text in brackets.
During the time of Wākea, he had an ‘aikāne (male
companion). [Ha‘akauilanani was his name.] It was not
302  Kapu

heard of as to how he had become an ‘aikāne of Wākea

[perhaps it was done in trade], who knows? When Papa
left Wākea, Papa went to sleep with his ‘aikāne. They had
a child named Kekeu. [. . .] [they have become] ancestors
of those true ‘aikāne in the Hawaiian Islands. [. . .] If a
“free” person (someone without any restrictions) slept
with, perhaps an ali‘i and children were born, then they
were considered true ‘aikāne. (Malo 184)

What does Malo mean by a “true” aikāne? Is it, as suggested, a

person (male or female) whose status was noa, or free, and not just
someone involved in a male homosexual relationship? Or did the
concept of aikāne change under the reign of Līloa to be only that of a
male companion? British accounts cannot completely clarify this for
us, because the British did not understand what the relationship of
aikāne was. They did learn its meaning later as they remained on the
island of Hawai‘i. David Samwell made this entry to his journal on
January 29, 1779 during the Makahiki festival.
Another Sett of Servants of whom he has a great many
are called Ikany [. . .] and their business is to commit
the Sin of Onan upon the old King. This, however
strange it may appear, is fact, as we learnt from frequent
Enquiries about this curious Custom, and it is an
office that is esteemed honourable among them & they
have frequently asked us on seeing a handsome young
fellow if he was not an Ikany to some of us. (Beaglehole
1,171–1,172)

Samwell’s commentary is the earliest foreign confirmation that

the term aikāne is in reference to a sexual relationship rather than
one of being a “close friend or companion.” He seems bothered by it,
as evidenced by this second bit of commentary in his journal.
[. . . they] have as many Concubines and Wives as they
please, and a number of young fellows under the Title of
Ikany whose office has been before explained, & we have
great reason to think that that Unnatural Crime which
ought never to be mentioned is not unknown amongst
them. (Beaglehole 1,184)
 No Nā Mamo  303

He also alleges that Kamehameha also engaged in an aikāne

relationship, writing in his journal on February 10, 1779.
Kameha-meha got nine [daggers] of them for his Cloak.
He with many of his attendants took up his quarters on
board the ship for the Night: among them is a Young
Man of whom he seems very fond, which does not
in the least surprize us as we have had opportunities
before of being acquainted with a detestable part of his
Character which he is not in the least anxious to conceal.
(Beaglehole 1,190)

But that was not the last of his observations and comments
about the aikāne, for as the British were finally departing the islands
and they were off the island of Kaua‘i, Samwell witnessed this
incident when the attention was directed to one of the British crew
members.
Karan-koa [Kalanikoa; he was the son of Kiha and
Ka’apuwai (ftn. 3)], brother to Teeave by the father’s
side, being on board the Resolution to day and seeing
a handsome young fellow whose appearance he liked
much, offered six large Hogs to the Captain if he would
let him stand his Ikany for a little while, such is the
strange depravity of these Indians. (Beaglehole 1,226)

Although Linnekin, in her study of gender and rank says it

“may have been a homosexual relationship [. . .] in any case intimate
association with a chief, whether homosexual or heterosexual, was
a recognized route to higher status” (100). Malo, however, is quite
clear about the sexual role of aikāne and their close relationship to
the chief(s).
Those who slept with women were rare to find in the ali‘i(’s)
residence. Most slept without the company of women. Many
slept with ‘aikāne [male companions]. The sleeping of males
together was widespread at the ali‘i(’s) residence. (181)

But was the status of aikāne synonymous with the authority

displayed by Palea, or was it closer to that of a punahele (favorite)?
304  Kapu

Kamakau refers to Palea as Kalani‘ōpu‘u’s punahele. This was also the

status of Līloa’s aikāne. It well may have been a combination of the
relationship, which gains access to the high chief, and the status as a
punahele, that granted a person like Palea authority in the name of
the high chief.

The Observations of Gender Roles After Cook

Kamakau tells us that women played a great role in society, but
it is difficult to know whether or not he is referring to pre- or post-
contact society.
The men stood along the width of the field [to plant
sweet potato] with their backs to it and began digging.
[. . .] Women followed with the slips, dropping two into
each planting hole and other women placed them side by
side [. . .] (The Works 24)

In the morning there would be octopus spearing, it was

announced to the men and women. There would be many,
many of them, some on canoes and some afoot carrying
spears [. . .] (The Works 70)

[. . .] a kahuna went to the mountains to hew down a

tree for the canoe [. . .] men and women went up to
the mountains to drag it down, and many pigs were
provided for them. The dragging of a canoe (kauo wa‘a)
was a great occasion. (The Works 119)

Later, early missionaries, too, noted the various roles of women.

The old men were most of them dressed in a kihei, as
were also some of the women, but many of the latter
wore only a pau of native cloth wound round their loins
[while farming at Papapohaku]. Their black hair was
in several instances turned up, and painted white all
around the forehead, with a kind of chalk or clay [. . .]
(Ellis 132)

Among the chiefs, women were seen to be involved in the

making of chiefly ornaments. This may have been a pre-contact
 No Nā Mamo  305

activity and carried on after contact, for Malo comments, “It was a lot
of labor for the female ali‘i to make lei huli kua” (189).
[. . .] the females, especially those attached to the
households of the chiefs, spend much time in making
articles of ornament; in the braiding of human hair
for necklaces; trimming and arranging feathers for
wreaths and kahiles; polishing tortoise shell and the
ivory of whale’s teeth, for finger rings, and the handles of
feathered staffs, &c. (Stewart 150)

During the post contact period John Papa ‘Ī‘ī saw that women
in the chief ’s court, no matter their rank or status, were not exempt
from hard labor.
[. . .] a proclamation was sent to the women of the
court to fetch and spread grass on the field early in the
morning. This proclamation required all the women
who served in the court, chiefesses of lesser rank and
notables, to fetch grass from Kawaiahao. (54)

One of the most interesting of these observations was reported

by John Whitman, who was in the islands from 1813 to 1815.
The women also have their boxing matches and under
similar regulations. They however do not box under
the same Etour moco moco [Akua mokomoko ‘fighting
God’] as the men, it being necessary that theirs should be
made especially for females, the mens being tarboo and
the womens nore [noa]. (Linnekin 30–31)

It is also probable that the status of women had begun to change

after the arrival of Captain Cook and his expedition since women
played a unique role in the trade for foreign goods. Women provided
sexual favors for the British crew with or without the consent of men
for an increased accessibility to trade goods, especially iron (Linnekin
56–58, Sahlins, Historical Metaphors 41).
Women of high rank played an increasing role in the governance
of the kingdom from the ending of the kapu system in 1819,
especially since the two heirs and sons of Kamehameha were too
306  Kapu

young to govern after his death. In fact the role of the kuhina nui or
premier became a position filled only by women.
The role of a woman warrior also continued into post-contact
times. Kamakau recorded that it was a “koa wahine” (woman
warrior) who sounded the initial alarm that the Kaua‘i rebels were
attacking the loyalist fort at the battle of ‘Aipua‘a on July 24, 1823
on the island of Kaua‘i. “Kahala-i‘a and his men were awakened by
the ringing of the bell and the shouts of a woman warrior who cried,
‘Here come the Kauai warriors after the arms! here [sic] come the
rebels! the [sic] men of Hawaii still hold the fort! it [sic] is not taken
for Kauai!’ ” (Ruling Chiefs 267).

A Girl Named Keākealani

The increasing status of women that occurred after the arrival
of Captain Cook was was not unprecedented. Years before— several
generations before the time of Kamehameha—a greater cultural shift
to the kapu system had happened on the island of Hawai‘i as a result
of the birth of a baby girl.
Upon the death of the ruling chief, Lonoikamakahiki (the same
chief who introduced the Makahiki, an annual tribute of rites and
games, a sort of Hawaiian Olympics), his children did not become
rulers. Instead authority went to “[t]he children of Kanaloa-
kua‘ana [. . .] and their descendants became rulers” (Kamakau,
Ruling Chiefs 61). Rule passed to the offspring of Keli‘iokalani and
Keākealanikāne. They had a daughter named Keakamahana.
Ke-aka-mahana was made ruler of Hawaii, but not the
whole of it for there were other chiefs over Hilo and
Hamakua. [. . .] Chiefs of Kona recognized one as head
over all and they all called her their lord. They left the
government to her and exalted her. Their ruler was Ke-aka-
mahana, a woman. This sacred woman, Ke-aka-mahana,
was married to Iwi-kau-i-ka-ua, a chief of Hawaii. Their
rank was not equal as his was lower than hers for hers
was of pi‘o rank, and her family included the tabu chiefs
of Kauai. [. . .] She was one of the pi‘o rank because her
parents were brother and sister, Ke-li‘i -o-ka-lani and
Keakea-lani-kane. When Ke-aka-mahana was born she was
 No Nā Mamo  307

taken to Kauai to be reared, and when the chiefs of Hawaii

desired a sacred ruler over their government they went to
Kauai to bring her back. (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 61–62)

Keakamahana did not like the mother and older daughter of her
husband, Iwikauikaua, and she had the two women killed. When
this happenened her husband left her to live on O‘ahu and had a son
there named Kāneikauaiwilani, in whom he nurtured the chance for
revenge. Like a bad made-for-television movie, Kāneikauaiwilani,
when he grew up, went back to Hawai‘i to marry his half sister,
Keākealani, the daughter of Keakamahana and Iwikauikaua. The
chiefs of Kona continually fought with the chiefs of Hilo over the
many resources that were under Hilo’s control. In time, things got
worse for the chiefs of Kona, and when they were finally defeated,
Keākealani and her people were captured and sent as prisoners to
Maui and Moloka‘i. When she was finally released she ruled over the
districts of Kohala, Kona and Ka‘ū, but “in name only” (Kamakau,
Ruling Chiefs 63).
John Papa ‘Ī‘ī emphasized that Keākealaniwahine [the term
wahine, or “female,” is added to distinguish her name from the
other Keākealani who was male and had the term kāne added to his
name] was the paramount chief of the entire island, and as such, had
more status and privileges than would normally be associated with a
woman.
Keakealaniwahine was once the ruler of all Hawaii, and
was succeeded by her son Keawe i Kekahialiiokamoku.
Keakealaniwahine was brought up with the kapu moe. As
there was no other chiefess her equal, she was kept apart,
with the chiefs who had the right to the prostrating kapu,
and away from places where people were numerous. Her
houses, surrounded by a stone wall, stood on an elevation
above Keolonahihi in Holualoa, North Kona. She was
thought to be a chiefess who would care for the welfare of
the people and for the kingdom, and would understand
how to benefit it and bring it prosperity.

Later, when she became the ruler, she was in charge of all
the heiaus on Hawaii. She offered human sacrifices in the
308  Kapu

six luakini heiaus of the six districts of Hawaii [. . .]. It was

said that whenever a ceremony was performed at these
heiaus she wore a skirt of ninikea, a soft white tapa made
by women who were skilled in the art.

Though a woman, Keakealaniwahine was permitted

to enter the heiaus to give her offerings and sacrifices.
However, she was not allowed to eat any of the offerings
and gifts with the priests and the men, who ate by
themselves. She participated only in the ceremonies,
for men and women continued to eat apart from the
time of Wakea, because of Hoohokukalani. [. . .] Thus
Keakealaniwahine ate in her own house of the food
permitted to women. The only men who ate with the
women were those who prepared the food of the chiefess
and who had the privilege of serving it to her. (Ii 159–160)

The ruling male chiefs and priests dramatically changed their

world through this radical but practical shift to accommodate a
woman, who had been born of greater rank and status than any of
them. The next shift to the kapu system would have to wait several
generations until the time of Keōpūolani and Ka‘ahumanu, direct
descendants of Keākealaniwahine. They were the two women
deliberately sought by Kamehameha to be his wives in his quest to
conquer and unify the islands, and who would initiate the eating
freely with men and the eating of unrestricted foods upon his death.
Keōpūolani was a “niece” of Kamehameha—her grandfather,
Keōua Kupuapāikalani, was Kamehameha’s father. Her high rank
and status, based upon the model of the union of Wākea and
Ho‘ohōkūkalani, came from her parents who were half-brother and
sister, and her paternal and maternal grandfathers, Kalani‘ōpu‘u and
Keōua Kupuapāikalani, who were half-brothers and who also shared
the same wife, Kalola PupukaoHonokawailani.
According to Kamakau, Keōpūolani was
[. . .] for whom these tabus were made and who had
benefit of them. [. . .] even Kamehameha had been
obliged to uncover and remove his loin cloth in her
presence; (Ruling Chiefs 224)
 No Nā Mamo  309

She became his wife only through his conquest after defeating
the chiefs of Maui. “It has been said that because Kamehameha I did
not obtain his high chiefess [Keōpūlani] through appeal to Kahekili
and others, this was the reason for the great inheritance war between
Kamehameha I and Kalanikupule at Wailuku, Maui [. . .] As a result
of this victory of Kamehameha, he obtained this very high sacred
chiefess” (McKinzie 28). The term inheritance war mostly refers to
Kamehameha’s desire to have his children inherit the highest possible
rank through Keōpūolani. We see this practice again with another
notable wife of Kamehameha’s, the younger sister of Ka‘ahumanu,
Kaheiheimālie Kīna‘u. She had two daughters, Kamamalū and
Kīna‘uwahine, and Kamehameha wished them to become the wives
of his “grandsons” [a term he used for his own sons] by Keōpūolani.
By these unions of sisters and brothers, they would achieve an even
higher rank and status within his immediate family.
While Keōpūolani could be considered Kamehameha’s sacred
wife, Ka‘ahumanu could be considered his political wife for she
brought him the natural resources of eastern Maui needed for his
war campaigns as well as the great armies of her father, Ke‘eaumoku
Papaiahiahi, who was descended from Keākealaniwahine. Kamakau
called this marriage an “alliance [. . .] Kamehameha’s long control of
the government was due to this wife alone; through her all the chiefs
became reconciled to Kamehameha [. . .]” (Ruling Chiefs 311).
Long after their marriage, after Kamehameha had gained control
of the islands, we see evidence of how great Ka‘ahumanu’s strategic
importance had been to Kamehameha when her father, Ke‘eaumoku
on his death bed, warned Kamehameha that “None of the chiefs
is strong enough to conspire against you. There is indeed one who
might succeed in such a rebellion, your wife [Ka-‘ahu-manu]; but
if you are careful rebellion may be avoided.” Upon this advice,
Kamehameha fearing for the stability of his government, [. . .] made
Ka‘ahumanu the pillar and cornerstone for the state by making
her body kapu (forbidden) so that if any high chef slept with [her],
he was considered a rebel, and he was put to death and his land
confiscated (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 189).
Keōpūlani and Ka‘ahumanu, together, were instrumental in
ending the restrictions imposed upon men and women by the kapu
310  Kapu

from the time of Wākea, Papa, and Ho‘ohōkūkalani. The conditions

for their actions had been in place for a long time, perhaps waiting
for the precise moment when they could be acted upon. Malo
reminds us of some of the pre-contact traditions.
Furthermore, several people were given the task as
unprohibited eaters for chiefly women and for women of
rank (wahine koikoi). These people ate with these women
as they had prepared the women’s food. They were called
several names such as ‘ai noa and ‘ai pūhi‘u. (159)

This sanctioned free eating was allowed only after the death of
the ruling chief, and only the men who had prepared the food could
eat with high-ranking women. However, when the new paramount
chief had been installed and the kapu reinstated, then this free eating
ended.
A range of speculation has developed as to the motivation for
the ending of the kapu: from the redistribution and denial of land
holdings by the chiefs, to the increase of power and ambition on the
part of high-ranking female chiefs after centuries of male domination,
to political control by the new ruling family of the Kamehamehas. The
arrival of Captain Cook created further challenges for the religious-
political system of the Hawaiians’ world view, as well as for their ideas
of the way things should be (Linnekin, Sahlins).
Whatever the motivation, the death of Kamehameha in 1819
created the opportunity for dramatic action during the traditional
mourning rites, including the eating together of men and women.
The decision to make this mourning practice permanent was made
by the very young heir Liholiho (Kamehameha II), and the result
was the ending of all the rituals and preferences given to the chiefs.
This decision was backed by the remaining high chiefs of his father’s
old court, his mothers Ke‘ōpūolani and Ka‘ahumanu, and his uncle
Kalanimoku. Kamakau thought it was strange for a “tabu chiefess
[. . .] one for whom these tabus were made and who had benefit
of them,” to have agreed to such a decision and to cooperate in its
enforcement. However, he stated it correctly that when “Ke-opu-o-
lani, the only remaining high tabu chiefess, gave up the tabu with the
consent of all the chiefs, the tabu system fell” (Ruling Chiefs 224).
 No Nā Mamo  311

It was during this important point in the transition from chiefs

to king, from an isolated society to one open to the world, that
with some irony, women with greater rank and status than the men
around them influenced the end of the kapu begun so long ago by
Wākea and Komo‘awa.
Linnekin’s reading of the historical tradition leads us to believe
that “women become more important than ever as points of access
to power and as politically powerful figures in their own right. By all
accounts, as premier (kuhina nui) and regent Ka‘ahumanu was the de
facto ruler of the Hawaiian Kingdom until she died in 1832” (72).
She adds that “with the demise of the sacrificial cult that legitimated
conquest, male Hawaiian ali‘i seem to have lost some of their mana,
their efficacy and directedness. [. . .] The fall of the indigenous religion is
only one of many factors in the demoralization of male chiefs. But if
[. . .] the tabus were a way in which men exerted some control over
women, then ali‘i men may well have suffered differentially from the
loss of that ritual system” (73). This makes sense when one considers
how male-dominated the kapu system had been for the chiefs and
others of rank and status. The union of political power and religious
authority imposed through Komo‘awa with Wākea increased the
power of male priests and chiefs over the limitations imposed upon
high-ranking women (Papa). The eventual overthrow of the kapu
system cancelled that power and authority and resulted in limitations
on the roles of the male chief in the new society.
Linnekin concludes her study by suggesting that
the segregation of men and women under the kapu
system gave women a degree of autonomy, even a
certain ritual leverage over men. The social standing of
Hawaiian men and women has been radically abridged
since 1778. A society with far different notions of
women’s proper place became dominant in the islands.
[. . .] Whether Hawaiians have internalized the Western
model of male-and-female is quite another question, and
one that has yet to be answered. (239)

Defining a proper role for Native Hawaiian men today is

one of the challenges being actively explored in Native Hawaiian
312  Kapu

communities. Many Hawaiian males, who seem to identify only with

men of rank and status, such as ali‘i and warriors, seek to revive some
sort of traditional role for men through lua ‘traditional wrestling
or martial arts,’ protocol, and leadership. Men have dominated the
leadership roles of Christianity, but their influence is lessened when
the major Christian denominations, locally and nationally, keep
native clergy and laity in subservient organization roles. A solution
may be found in some sort of culturally recognized roles for men as
those found in Aotearoa ‘New Zealand,’ where oratory is reserved for
men, and women have other defined roles in these rituals of protocol
and encounter. I once asked an elder Māori woman at a marae
gathering what she thought about the separation of roles, and whether
she felt women should be allowed to speak on the marae ‘sacred
courtyard area for rituals of encounter.’ Her answer, in light of the
above discussion, still echoes with wisdom and reality, “We [Māori
women] don’t mind all the wind that is spoken because we know
when and where and who make the decisions anyway. So let the men
have their moment in the sun. It’s only talk.”
A difficulty Linnekin alludes to is determining how much
modern American culture has influenced, and continues to influence,
the Native Hawaiian discussion of gender roles and sexuality. While
I was working at the Queen Lili‘uokalani Children’s Center, a fellow
worker brought in a project involving Hawaiian male teenagers on
the island of Kaua‘i. Reviewing his proposed project so that it might
be culturally appropriate, I returned it with one major concern. The
group was to print t-shirts with a design of an over muscled male
posing in a manner of a body builder or weight lifter. My objection
was that the image was a modern image from contemporary
American culture. I told him that traditional culture would want
to lead youth to become responsible, nurturing, and caring adults
who can benefit their extended family, or ‘ohana. The motto of
Kamehameha II was ho‘okanaka, to be someone. Today, it could also
be ho‘omakua, to be adult or an elder, that is to have respect because
people know who you are and what you must and can do.
The re-definition of gender roles in contemporary Hawaiian
life must, I believe, be culturally based in order to take hold in a
community of responsible and contributing members. If they are not,
 No Nā Mamo  313

the re-invented roles will serve only for celebrations and holidays.
This culturally based approach can be achieved if we develop these
roles as proposed by Martin Brokenleg in his work on youth at risk,
encompassing roles for both men and women that emphasize these
four guiding principles: a sense of belonging, mastery, independence,
and generosity (Brendtro et al. 45). Otherwise the roles of men and
women will allow them only to play at culture rather than to live it.
314  Hewa

12 Hewa
The Wrong Way of Living

The king was the one who did wrong, but fault was put
on an innocent person. Perhaps the king’s conscience
within him knew that what he had done was wrong and that
he should repent, thus shortening the matter and letting it end.
‘Ī‘ī, Fragments of Hawaiian History

Though he alone was thought to have committed

the misdeed, the whole family was held guilty.
‘Ī‘ī, Fragments of Hawaiian History

In 1985 I had the opportunity to travel with the late Moses

Keale, Sr., chairman of the Office of Hawaiian Affairs (OHA), to
visit the northern Pueblo (Tewa) peoples. New federal funds were
being released for a Native Hawaiian arts and crafts program, and we
went to New Mexico to visit their similarly funded program in Santa
Fe. After lunch with representatives of the Eight Northern Indian
Pueblos, they informed us that there was a celebration beyond the
mesas, in the mountains at Taos. They said there was a traditional
Native Hawaiian dance group being honored there. Before we left,
one of them told us, half jesting and half warning, to beware of the
clowns, the koshare, during the celebrations as they tended to pick on
the obvious tourists.
We got to Taos Pueblo and saw the crowd gathered in a very
large semicircle at the main plaza. I spotted the Hawaiians sitting
down on the dirt on the other side of the circle. We heard loud
laughter and shouting, and a cry of anguish. The clowns had entered
the crowd, and one had put a large watermelon up the shirt of an
unsuspecting tourist to make him look pregnant. The clowns were
painted in black and white stripes, and some had two long pointed
tips on their heads. As they came along the semicircle, that’s when
Moses indicated it was time to go. He had his beautiful, white,
Tahitian baby palm hat on, and it was not going to a clown.
The tradition of clowns and clowning around is found in many
Native American cultures. Some traditions speak of this group as
formerly being a very powerful priesthood that did something wrong
 No Nā Mamo  315

The author and Moses Keale, Sr. (in his Tahitian baby palm hat) with Dr. Susan Guyette and
Walter Dasheno of the Eight Northern Indian Pueblos Council in San Juan Pueblo, New Mexico

and, thereafter, had to lead a life of misbehavior or doing things

backwards. At these feast days, their task of comedy, sometimes
becoming very pointed abuse, is to point out, by providing a mirror
image of the world, how things really should be done. If their victims
know the difference between good and bad behavior, then their
shame is revealed through embarrassment, and the public display
might be all that is needed to have misbehavior corrected. In Hawai‘i,
we don’t have the role of clowns in our traditions, but we do have
some characters who acted like clowns or tricksters.
We find tricksters, such as the coyote or rabbit in the southwest
United States, in indigenous cultures throughout the world.
Tricksters are a little bit different than clowns. Their bad behavior is
more likely to be intentional. They not only use trickery to get what
they want; they lie, cheat, deceive, and even seem to do magical feats.
The stories in Hawai‘i most closely belonging to this form are the
traditions Beckwith called “kupua stories.” She wrote that they had
“a regular pattern” (Hawaiian Mythology 404).
The kupua is born in some nonhuman form, but
detected and saved by his grandparents, generally on
the mother’s side, who discern his divine nature. He is
precocious, becomes speedily a great eater, predatory
and mischievous. (Hawaiian Mythology 404)
316  Hewa

Even though she states that “[k]upua stories are admittedly

fiction, although often credited as fact” (Hawaiian Mythology 404),
we recognize that causes for the child’s bad behavior range from
rejection at birth to identification with a missing parent, in these
cases the father. What is thought of as rascal or mischievous behavior
inherent to the child, what some today would call “acting up,” is
evidently based upon the child’s early experiences trying to establish
some sense of belonging and relationship to others.
The tradition of ‘Ōpelemoemoe and his son, Kalelealuaka, is one
of these kupua stories. The son’s bad behavior and tricks are a sign of
his vying for attention that underscores his deep desire to know who
his father is and, therefore, who he is himself.
Hele aku la keia [Opelemoemoe] a hiki i ka wahine,
noho iho la laua, a hala he mau anahulu, hapai ka
wahine i ke keiki.

I loko o keia wa, olelo aku o Opelemooemoe: “E, ke hoi nei au

i Oahu; eia ka‘u kauoha ia oe, i hanau ae he keiki kane, kapa
oe i kona inoa, o Kalelealuaka, a i manao e imi ae ia‘u, eia ka
maka la, he ihe.” Noho aku la ka wahine o Kalilikookalauae,
a hanau he keiki kane, kapa iho la i ka inoa o Kalelealuaka,
hanai iho la a nui. He keu ke kolohe a me ka eu; mimi iho
la kela i ka umeke a me ka ipukai, pela ka hana mau ana.
Nolaila, lele aku ka makuakane kolea papai ia Kalelealuaka,
uwe kela a olelo aku ia Kalikookalauae ka makuahine: “Ea! E
kuu makuahine, e hai mai oe i ko‘u makuakane;” hoole aku
ka makuahine, aole ou makuakane e ae, o kou makuakane iho
la no ia. No ke koi pinepine o Kalelealuaka i ka makuahine,
e hai mai i kona makuakane. Hai aku o Kalikookalauae ia
Kalelealuaka: “Ae, he makuakane kou, o Opelemoemoe ka
inoa. (Fornander V: 171)

‘Ōpelemoemoe went to the woman and they lived

together. After several weeks (anahulu) had passed she
was pregnant with child.

During that time ‘Ōpelemoemoe said, “Oh, I have to go

back to O‘ahu. I have to tell you this, if a boy is born give
him the name of Kalelealuaka, and when he wants to
 No Nā Mamo  317

find me this is the sign of my love for him, a spear.” This

woman, Kaliliko‘okalaua‘e remained there, and she gave
birth to a son and called him Kalelealuaka and raised him
up until he was mature. But he was a rascal full of energy.
He even urinated in the food bowls and did all sorts of
things like that. Therefore his stepfather (makuakāne
kōlea) beat Kalelealuaka, and he cried and spoke to his
mother, Kaliliko‘okalaua‘e. “Mom! Tell me who my real
father is.” His mother refused to and told him he had
no other father but his stepfather. Kalelealuaka didn’t
give up and kept asking his mother until she finally told
him who his real father was. Kaliliko‘okalaua‘e told
Kalelealuaka, “Yes, you have a real father whose name is
‘Ōpelemoemoe. (Author’s translation)

The most renowned kupua in Hawaiian traditions is Māui

[Maui], whom Martha Warren Beckwith, the first anthropologist-
folklorist in the islands to study and translate traditional Hawaiian
stories, named as our master trickster. Later, in 1955, her successor
in the field, Katherine Luomala, renamed Māui as a “South Sea
Superman.” She gave this description of this pan-Polynesian kupua
or demi-god.
When the world was still new, Maui turned the already
hide-bound social order topsyturvy, and according to the
insulted gods, he tried to dissolve the entire physical and
social universe into its original chaos. His exasperated
parents, who thought him a bad boy, called him with
obvious restraint “that nasty joker” and “that revolting
child.” His lawlessness made him so unpopular in his
village that he finally had to move to the underworld until
gossip and anger died away. The gods, who had long since
abandoned him, were as anxious as the villagers about what
to expect next from this semidivine juvenile delinquent
who tried to usurp their power and privileges and whose
misbehavior was on a cosmic scale. The gods were
disturbed because Maui had learned magic from them after
they had rescued him, an ugly misbirth cast away by his
mother with a prayer, and had tenderly reared him until he
decided to return to the earth to seek his mother and other
318  Hewa

relatives. Maui spent his brief but eventful life in trying to

prove to the gods that he knew more magic than they did
and in trying to impress the homefolks by his adventures.
Instead, he angered and alarmed everyone, until at last only
a flock of silly, chattering little birds would have anything
to do with him. (85)

We are all too familiar with the acts of Māui: snaring the sun to
slow down the day, fishing up the islands, or obtaining fire because all
of these helped our ancestors’ miserable plight. Those stories have been
told and retold, especially in children’s books. They play to our desire
to see the lowly triumphing over the mighty and powerful. However,
Māui’s epic tradition involved other feats as well. He also separated the
sky and earth. He rescued his mother from an eel and his wife from
an eight-eyed bat. He had to be rescued from being sacrificed by his
mother and younger sibling. These stories, and there are many variants
of them, make Māui seem like the Superman we are more familiar with
who is there to look after and protect the weak and lowly. But Māui
is no Clark Kent, and the story of his death, which comes because he
had made himself “unpopular with his tricks” (Beckwith, Hawaiian
Mythology 233), underscores his motivation for all these feats—his
need to receive attention and a sense of belonging, perhaps even love,
that he misses from his relatives.
Maui goes to live in Hilo on Hawaii and makes himself
unpopular with his tricks. He one day visits the home of
Kane and Kanaloa and their party at Alakahi in Waipio
valley and attempts to spear with a sharp stick the bananas
they are roasting by the fire. He is detected and his brains
dashed out. They color the side of Alakahi peak and tinge
red the shrimps in the stream. A rainbow is formed of his
blood. (Beckwith, Hawaiian Mythology 233–234)

Examining what happens in the stories of Māui’s feats sheds a

little more light on why Luomala uses the term juvenile delinquency
to describe Māui’s use of his super powers.
Obtaining fire from the mud hens is his first feat. He first had
to catch one of them, and then to threaten the little bird to convince
it to reveal the secret. He then “rubs a red streak on the mud hen’s
 No Nā Mamo  319

Some of Māui’s feats are well known, while others are less
well known. This print by Dietrich Varez shows Māui
lassoing the sun in order to show it down.

head out of revenge for her trickery before letting the bird escape”
(Beckwith, Hawaiian Mythology 230).
His second feat is to slow down the sun by lassoing the sun’s
rays until eventually the sun has to plead for its life. In one version
of the story, after accomplishing his task Māui “then turns to punish
Moemoe, who has derided his effort. Moemoe flees until overtaken
north of Lahaina, where he is transformed into the long rock beside
the road today” (Beckwith, Hawaiian Mythology 231).
When Māui goes fishing with his brothers they hook a giant fish
in order to make the islands one. In some versions a canoe bailer
found floating on the water is involved, which turns into a beautiful
woman. In one version, Māui’s mother had warned about this bailer;
however, he picks it up anyway, causing his brothers to turn and
look, and resulting in the fish getting away and islands not being
united (Beckwith, Hawaiian Mythology 232).
320  Hewa

In the West Maui versions, Māui’s mother and her young child,
who is an owl, come to rescue Māui from being offered as a sacrifice.
His half-brother, the owl, gets Māui and sets him free so that Māui’s
mother “sits down, covers him with her clothing and pretends to
pick fleas. Thus he is saved” (Beckwith, Hawaiian Mythology 231). In
the O‘ahu versions, it is Māui who saves his wife from the eight-eyed
bat, Pe‘ape‘amakawalu. Māui “cuts off the chief ’s head and flies away
with his wife to Oahu, where he drains all eight of the bat’s eyes in a
cup of awa” (Beckwith, Hawaiian Mythology 233).
In the traditions, Māui may punish the mud hens for deceiving
him by rubbing the bird’s forehead so hard it turns red, but in the
following stories of the chiefs the violence has deadly results, and
they are playing for keeps. We see in these traditions how the concept
of hewa intensifies from mischief and misbehavior of a child to deceit
and plotting, jealousy, and physical violence of adults.
Several generations before the 1779 arrival of Captain James Cook
on the island of Hawai‘i, these mythical traditions of kūpua, younger
and older brothers, and tricksters entered historical reality when the
paramount chief Līloa had another son, whom he named ‘Umi.
‘Umi had been conceived through an affair with a woman named
‘ĀkahiaKuleana. As if patterned after the ‘Ōpelemoemoe story, Līloa
had left her with child and with personal items to symbolize his
paternity: his own clothes, whale’s tooth pendant, and war club.
Kamakau tells us that Malo recorded an early written account
of ‘Umi while they were members of the first Hawaiian Historical
Society in Lāhaināluna (Malo vi, ftn.). This is Malo’s account.
While he [Līloa] was staying there, he went to bathe in the
stream of Kahoea, This area is close to Kealakaha. He found
‘Akahi[a]Kuleana there. She was coming back from bathing
to purify herself as she was over her period. (Later she was to
join her husband, that was the way women of that time did
things) and her female kauwā stayed at the embankment of
the water to bring her pā‘ū [clothing].

Līloa saw a beautiful woman and Līloa desired this woman.

He seized her and said, “We must sleep together.” The
woman saw Līloa and consented.
 No Nā Mamo  321

The two [of] them slept together and when they were
finished sleeping, Līloa saw that she had been menstruating
(pohā). Līloa asked this woman, “Say, are you not
menstruating?” She said, “Yes, I am. I have been for a while”
(‘o ko‘u mau ana mai la nō ia.)

Līloa said to her, “You are probably pregnant.” She thought

so, too. Then Līloa asked her, “Who are you? What is your
name?” She told him, “I am ‘Akahi[a]Kuleana. My parent
is Kuleanakapiko.” Līloa said, “Then you may be a ‘sister’ of
mine.” And she said, “That may be so.”

Then Līloa instructed her about the child, “If the child born
is ours, if it is a girl, well, you will name her after your side,
but if it is a boy, then you will call him ‘Umi.”

‘AkahiaKuleana said, “What will be their [the boy or girl’s]

sign that will readily indicate that they are your children as
an ali‘i?”

Līloa gave [her] his malo [loin cloth], his niho palaoa
[Whale’s tooth pendant] and his club, saying, “These are the
sign of our child and when he or she grows up, you will give
these things to him or her.” Then, ‘AkahiaKuleana agreed to
Līloa(’s) instruction and ‘AkahiaKuleana gave [the objects]
to her kauwā to take care of the symbols of Līloa to be given
to the child.

When this conversation was over, Līloa went and made a

Kī leaf malo for himself and he put it on.

When he returned to his hale, his people saw that he was

wearing a Kī leaf malo and not his own malo. They said,
“Līloa has gone mad. He does not have his own malo on. He
is wearing a Kī leaf malo.”

Līloa stayed there until the relaxing of the kapu of the heiau
[Maninini] was complete. Then he returned to Waipi‘o to
his permanent residence.

After these days, ‘AkahiaKuleana was indeed pregnant with

‘Umi. Her real husband thought that it was his child and he
did not know that the child was Līloa(’s).
322  Hewa

When the child was born, the mother named him,

‘Umi, because that is what Līloa wanted the child to be
called after he had conceived (wai kō ai) the child [with
‘AkahiaKuleana].

This child, ‘Umi was raised up until he was mature. It

was said when ‘Umi(’s) [step] father [the husband of
‘AkahiaKuleana] went to farm and came back that he found
‘Umi had eaten up all the food, so he beat ‘Umi up.

‘Umi was beaten by his step-father (ka makua kōlea ona)

as ‘Umi had eaten up all the food, i‘a [fish] and everything
else. The step-father abused him (hana ‘ino), because he
thought that he was the real father of the boy. ‘Umi was very
depressed as was ‘AkahiaKuleana at ‘Umi(’s) beatings.

Therefore, ‘Umi secretly asked ‘AkahiaKuleana, “Do I have

another father? Is this my only father?”

‘AkahiaKuleana told him, “Your father is in Waipi‘o. His

name is Līloa.” ‘Umi said, “I must go to my [real] father.”
His mother said, “Yes, you should go.”

When ‘Umi had eaten all the food, the step-father again beat
him up. Then ‘AkahiaKuleana said, “My husband, this is not
your son you are beating.”

Her husband was angry and sarcastically said, “Who is the

father of your son, is it Līloa?” ‘AkahiaKuleana said, “Yes,
Līloa is [the father] of my son.”

The husband said, “Where are the signs that this child is
Līloa(’s)? This is my son, because you are my wife.”

‘AkahiaKuleana called her kauwā, “Bring [me] the objects

of Līloa(’s) that were left for ‘Umi.”

‘AkahiaKuleana said to her husband, “Now you know who

is the father of the child.” And he saw [the objects and
realized] that he was not the father of the child.

After this conversation, ‘AkahiaKuleana carefully advised

‘Umi about his journey to Waipi‘o to [see] Līloa.
 No Nā Mamo  323

‘AkahiaKuleana put Līloa(’s) malo on ‘Umi. She placed the

palaoa on ‘Umi and [gave him] the club. (305–307)

Like ‘Ōpelemoemoe, ‘Umi is mistreated and abused by his

stepfather. He asks his mother if he has another father, and even
after he is claimed by Līloa, ‘Umi still has to endure the abuse of
his older half-brother, Hākau. Malo does not give us a lot of detail
about the relationship between the two brothers, but he does say
“His [Hākau’s] na‘au [Lit., intestines, but fig., heart] was angry at
‘Umi. Hākau spoke rudely to ‘Umi while Līloa was still alive. Līloa
was sadden[ed] for ‘Umi because of Hākau(’s) anger” (308). Malo
also tells us that “Hākau mistreated ‘Umi so that he could drive ‘Umi
away” (309). A good portion of the tradition now is devoted to how
‘Umi is able to emerge from obscurity to claim the chiefdom and
triumph over Hākau, and it is this part of ‘Umi’s story that is mostly
remembered today. Beckwith placed him among the “usurping
chiefs” (Hawaiian Mythology 389). Anthropologist Valerio Valeri
recognizes that ‘Umi’s life starts off as “an impure but extraordinary
birth. His powers are manifested at first in the form of disordered,
‘mischievous’ behavior” (278). Valeri also describes ‘Umi as “the
usurper and conqueror par excellence” (211). ‘Umi’s story is of “the
conquering enemy” transformed into a “‘legitimate’ king” (279).
This interpretation of a political struggle is important, too, but
I do not believe it is the most compelling reason to tell this story,
unless you happen to be the younger relative of a weak ruler. ‘Umi’s
story is important because it is about relationships: his relationship
with his mother and stepfather, establishing a relationship with his
biological father, with his half-brother, with his friends and allies,
and more importantly, with himself by discovering his own identity.
This type of tradition is not new. It is the same story that has
enraptured adults and young adults alike in Tolkien’s Lord of the
Rings trilogy and that thrills young readers in Rowling’s Harry
Potter series. Like them, ‘Umi’s story is also about doing the right
thing. I don’t believe ‘Umi set out to overturn the prevailing order of
things as Māui did. ‘Umi was not out to destroy his older bother. In
Kamakau’s version of the story, Hākau actually started his reign well-
intentioned and “lived a just life.” But then he changed.
324  Hewa

After Liloa’s death, Hakau took over the government,

and the chief [‘Umi] lived under him. In the first years
of his reign Hakau observed the teachings of his father,
the kahunas, and counselors, and lived a just life. [. . . ]
But in the later years of his rule he was lost in pleasure,
mistreated the chiefs, beat those who were not guilty of
any wrongdoing, and abused the priests of the heiaus of
his god and the chiefs of his own government. ‘Umi was
also abused by Hakau and was called the child of a low-
born slave. [. . .] Hakau was jealous because ‘Umi-a-Liloa
was handsome and good. (Ruling Chiefs 9–10)

Eventually, he developed into an abusive leader to his loyal

followers, as demonstrated by the following event that caused two of
his own priests to turn against him.
At one time the old men, Nunu and Ka-kohe, were
indisposed through taking a purge. They sent a man to ask
Hakau to send them food, fish, and ‘awa. Hakau answered
with insulting words, reviling them in such a way as to
humiliate them. The old men began to plot to give the
kingdom to someone else. (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 12)

After remaining there a few days the old men went home
pretending friendship for their lord and nursing hatred
and grudge in their hearts. Nunu and Ka-kohe were high
priests of the priestly class of Lono. (Kamakau, Ruling
Chiefs 14)

Abuse, mistreatment, unnecessary beatings, and jealousy are the

causes that legitimized ‘Umi’s violent overthrow of his older brother
and later invoked fear in high chiefs about the potential danger of
younger relatives.
Some of the causes of ‘Umi’s difficult relationship with his older
brother are to be found in this excerpt from the paragraphs Malo
uses to describe the term hewa in his chapter concerning what was
hewa and pono.
If the eyes of a person sees something to covet, but the
heart does not desire it, then the hewa will not remain
 No Nā Mamo  325

(pili). But when the eyes see something and the heart
desires it, then the thought will increase there [in the
heart]. The source of this is kuko [desire], li‘a [a strong
desire], ulukū [nervousness], ho‘okaha [to extort],
ho‘omakauli‘i [avarice], ‘i‘ini [craving], and halaiwi
[to look at longingly] with the idea to secretly take and
acquire the object. These hewa were called ‘aihue [theft,
to steal].

Furthermore, there were many reasons for desiring

another person’s wealth. There was ho‘ohalu [to stare
wide eyed], maka‘ala [watchful], kia‘i [to look at],
ho‘okalakupua [elusive], ho‘oeleiki (to bear a grudge),
ho‘opa‘ewa [to cause wrong], and ho‘opā‘ē‘ē [to cause
one to go astray]. And with these ideas one could kill
someone at some lonely spot to get that person’s wealth.
These hewa were called pōwā [robbery] and murder was
the means to do so.

Furthermore, if a person decided to increase his or her

possessions by taking someone else’s, who had much
more, then the first thought was to pākaha [to cheat],
lawe [to take], kipa [entice], hao [plunder], uhuki [to pull
up or uproot], kā‘ili [snatch] and ‘ālunu [greed]. There
were many other types of hewa.

Furthermore, if a person let another know what was

going on or the truth of the matter, and it turned out not
to be so after they were through talking to each other,
then there were many reasons for this to have occurred
[in the heart]: ho‘opunipuni [lying], wahahe‘e [deceit],
‘alapahi [falsehood], pālau [to tell tall tales], kūkahekahe
[jest], palolo [gossip], kokahe [“the lie unclothed,”
Emerson’s translation], pahilau [to tell lies], and other
such numerous thoughts.

Furthermore, if a person decided to do hewa to another,

then there were many thoughts there [in the heart].
The first was ‘aki [malign], ‘aki‘aki [slander], ni‘ani‘a
[false accusations], holoholo‘ōlelo [gossip], makauli‘i
[covet], ka‘ameha‘i [elusive], kuene [“belittling,”
326  Hewa

Emerson’s translation], poupou noho nio [pretense to

knowledge or skill], ho‘owalewale [tempting], luahele
[seduce], kumakaia [to betray], ho‘olawehala ‘ōpū
‘ino‘ino [malicious accusation], lawe ‘ōlelo [tattle], and
pūonioni [contentious] and there were other similar and
numerous thoughts.

If a person thought badly of another, then there were

many thoughts there [in the heart]. The first is huhū
[anger], inaina [temper], ‘a‘aka [bad temper], kē‘ē
[shrieking angrily], nanā [quarrelsome], kūkona [being
crossed], nāhoa [defiant], mākona [nasty], kala‘ea [rude],
ho‘olili [provoking jealousy], ho‘omāku‘e [to scowl],
ho‘oko‘iko‘i [to treat harshly], ho‘oweliweli [to threaten],
and other similar thoughts which were so numerous.

Furthermore, if a person decided to kill someone due

to a fault [hala], then there were many thoughts there
[in the heart]. The first was pepehi [murder], hailuku
[stoning], hahau [beating], kula‘i [pushing over], ‘umi
[strangulation], ku‘iku‘i [fighting], papa‘i [hitting],
hāko‘oko‘o [leaning on], ho‘okonokono [to entice], and
other similar thoughts which were so numerous.

This was a person of hewa. (186–187)

This is an amazingly descriptive and long list of what was

observed and recognized as bad behavior. Hewa is manifested
as jealousy, anger, and mistrust; as a cycle of escalating violence
between perpetrators and victims that results in abuse both physical
and emotional, shame, humiliation, and revenge. We can see all of
these played out in the traditions of chiefs.

Acts of Hewa in the Traditions of the Chiefs

From the time of ‘Umi until the unification of the islands
under Kamehameha, there were localized and inter-island conflicts
between chiefs caused by usurping of power and status, the control
of resources, the pressures of increasing populations, and natural
disasters such as famines. In the story of KihaaPi‘ilani, whose sister
was ‘Umi’s wife, Kiha, through his wife, asks her father for some
 No Nā Mamo  327

farmlands in the district of Hāna. When he asks what lands Kiha

wants, she says, “The lands my husband told me to ask for are
Honoma‘ele, Ka‘eleku, Kawaipapa, the two Wananalua and Koali.”
Interestingly enough, he “bowed his head in silence” in response
(Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 27).
Then raising it, he said, “Your husband is no commoner.
He is a chief, Kiha-a-Pi‘i-lani. [. . .] I shall remain loyal
to his older brother [. . .]. Your husband does not want
farm lands for the two of you, but is seeking means to
rebel against the kingdom. The lands of Honoma‘ele
and Ka‘eleku supply the ‘ohi‘a wood and ‘ie‘ie vines
of Kealakona to build ladders to the fortress. Kawaipapa
supplies the stones of Kanawao that are used in battle [. . . ].
(Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 27)

What was the problem between the two brothers, Lono and Kiha,
sons of Pi‘ilani, the late paramount chief of Maui?
It was said that there were two heirs to the kingdom,
Lono-a-Pi‘i-lani and Kiha-a-Pi‘i-lani [both nephews of
‘Umi] [. . .] the government went to Lono-a-Pi‘i-lani. [.
. .] In the first years of Lono-a-Pi‘i-lani’s reign all was
well, and the people were content.

Lono-a-Pi‘i-lani took care of Kiha-a-Pi‘i-lani, and the

latter cared for the people by giving them food. Lono-
a-Pi‘i-lani became angry, for he felt Kiha-a-Pi‘i-lani
was doing it to seize the kingdom for himself. [. . .]
The ruling chief ’s taro patch was smaller, for the latter
[Kiha-a-Pi‘i-lani] saw to it that his patch exceeded in
size. Therefore Lono-a-Pi‘i-lani grew very angry with
him and abused him. He humiliated him over food and
fish, and so they fought. The briny water which held
ohua fish [and squid] was thrown into Kiha-a-Pi‘i-lani’s
face; the tips of the squid’s tentacle clung to his eyes.

Lono-a-Pi‘i-lani sought to kill Kiha, so he [Kiha] fled in

secret to Molokai. [. . .] He patiently bore his troubles
knowing that he would not die, and that the kingdom of
Maui would yet be his. (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 22)
328  Hewa

This reminds us of a famous Cantonese proverb, “yan mu sam

doi fu [. . .], no family holds its wealth for over three generations”
(Chen n. pag.) that warns that wealth and power accumulated by the
first generation will later be squandered by the third. It appears that
‘Umi’s descendants also seem to follow a pattern of at first upholding
what is pono only to disregard it later.
Ke-li‘i-o-kaloa was ‘Umi-a-Liloa’s eldest son [. . .]
While he reigned, he took good care of his kingdom,
his god, the priests and prophets of the god, and the
common people. He lived a righteous life and heeded the
teachings of the priests and prophets, but did not mind
his father’s advice to take care of the chiefs, the old men
and old women, the orphans and the poor. When he
deserted the advice of the wise, he paid attention to that
of fools, thus forsaking the teachings of his father and
the learned men of his kingdom. He deserted the god
and oppressed the people.

These were his oppressive deeds: He seized the property

of the chiefs and that of the konohiki of the chiefs, the
food of the commoners, their pigs, dogs, chickens, and
other property. The coconut trees that were planted were
hewn down, so were the people’s kou trees. Their canoes
and fish were seized; and people were compelled to do
burdensome tasks such as diving for ‘ina sea urchins,
wana sea urchins, and sea weeds at night. Many were the
oppressive deeds committed by this chief Ke-li‘i-o-kaloa.
(Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 34–35)

When ‘Umi’s other son, Keawenuia‘Umi had “learned of the

unjust rule of Ke-li‘i-o-kaloa and the burdening of the common
people, he was filled with compassion for the chiefs and commoners
of Kona” (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 35). Kamakau also tells us that
after this defeat Keli‘iokaloa’s children “did not inherit the land”
for it was taken over by their uncle. Keawenuia‘Umi became the
paramount chief of the entire island, and his rule was passed on to
his descendants (Ruling Chiefs 36). When he died the island was
divided up between his sons, one of whom was Lonoikamakahiki.
 No Nā Mamo  329

Lono-i-ka-makahiki was a son of Keawe-nui-a-‘Umi, and

was chief of Ka-‘u and Puna. He was sole ruler over those
two districts on Hawaii. He was married to a chiefess,
named Ka-iki-lani-kohe-pani‘o [. . .]. Lono was a chief who
did not heed the advice of his priests and counselors, and
so his wisest counselors deserted him and sought a better
lord. Thus did Lanahu-‘imi-haku and others leave him to
seek a lord who listened and heeded advice [. . .] with the
hope that he was a righteous chief who listened to all that
the priests and counselors taught him.

While Lono lived with his wife, Ka-iki-lani, he proved

to be a bad-tempered chief, who was jealous of his
wife because of her beauty, and frequently gave her a
beating. [. . .] There were some people there who wished
to tease because they disliked the chiefess and were
jealous of the beauty of her face and form. They thought
of finding a cause for her to be killed by being beaten.
[. . . They] called out, “O chiefess Ka-iki-lani of Puna,
the youth of the dark cliff of Hea sends you his regards.”
[She disregarded them.] [. . .] But the mischief-makers
still called loudly, making mention of her lover, in this
manner, “O Ka-iki-lani, beautiful chiefess of Puna, your
lowly lover Hea-a-ke-koa sends his regards.” Lono and
the chiefs heard, and so did all the people who were
gathered there [. . .]. Lono grasped a block of wood and
cruelly beat his wife, unmercifully smiting her to death.
(Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 47–48)

Lonoikamakahiki became temporarily insane and, in great

remorse, he abandoned everything and went wandering from island
to island. On the island of Kaua‘i he was deserted by all his followers
except for one man named Kapa‘ihiahilina [. . . and] “they wandered
in the wilderness in poverty and hunger for many months. Lono was
crazed with grief for his wife. Kapa-‘ihi-a-hilina took good care of him
as though he were a personal attendant” (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 48).
But there was still hewa to be found. Kamakau says that after
Lonoikamakahiki regained himself and returned to Hawai‘i to rule,
he made Kapa‘ihiahilina “a person of importance before the chiefs
330  Hewa

and other members of the court. [. . .] but tattlers who were jealous of
his being a favorite went to the chief to find fault” (Ruling Chiefs 48).
Kapa‘ihiahilina composed this chant to remind Lonoikamakahiki of
what had happened before when they were friends, and it is one of
the few places where we see the word hewa invoked.
O Lono-i-ka-makahiki ka pua o Kalani,
Lono-i-ka-makahiki, offspring of a chief,
O Kalani kapu a Keawe i hanau.
A tapu heavenly one born to Keawe.
Hanau Kalani ke’lii ku halau,
The heavenly one was born a chief with great power,
He halau nehe Lono mai Kapa‘ahu,
With the tapu of silence from Kapa‘ahu,
Ka ‘ahu‘ula kapu o Ku-malana-hewa,
The tapu feather cape of Ku-malana-hewa.
Ua hewa, ua hewa e—
A fault has been committed—
Ua hewa ia na la he ho‘omauhala,
The fault is the bearing of a grudge.
‘A‘ole ‘ano hala i ho‘omau ai e Kalani,
It is not a fault to be cherished, O heavenly one!

After recalling the hardship and suffering that they shared

wandering together, Kapa‘ihiahilina ended this chant of loyalty and
friendship for Lonoikamakahiki with these words:
Aloha wale ana ka wau ia ‘oe iloko o ka uahoa.
I bid farewell to you, who remain in anger.
(Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 49–52, translated by Pukui)

Lonoikamakahiki’s story echoes another one, found on the

island of O‘ahu, that of KahalaoPuna. She, like Kaikilani, was said to
be young and beautiful. She was supposed to marry Kauhi, a man
of importance and responsibility to the paramount chief of O‘ahu,
Kākuhihewa; however,
[s]ome people who were desirous [imihala] of seeing
Kahalaopuna put to death [. . .] upon meeting Kauhi
made up a slanderous story [olelo epa] against her [ . . . ]:
“How strange indeed was the behavior of your intended
 No Nā Mamo  331

wife, Kahalaopuna! She went dancing two nights now,

and on each night had a separate lover.” When Kauhi
heard this from these men [kela mau kanaka], he said to
himself: “I shall indeed kill her for she has taken all the
good things from my lord which I gave her. She has now
gone and defiled herself.” (Fornander V: 188)

In this version Kauhi broke off a branch from an ‘ōhi‘a lehua tree
and struck her “two and three times” (Fornander V: 190) even as she
chanted of her love for Kauhi in which she states, “Like unto a shark
is your jealousy of me (Me he mano la no ka lili ia‘u)” (Fornander
V: 190–191). And again “Kauhi beat her until she was almost dead”
(Fornander V: 190) while Kahalaopuna pleads again.
At this Kauhi again prepared to strike her with the stick
to kill her. In her last faint cry she said: “My love to you.
Let me kiss you, my husband, ere I depart from this life.
Tell our parents of my love for them.” Kauhi then said:
“Why do you give your orders when you are thus about
to die? I shall kill you.” With that he struck her with the
stick and killed her. Kauhi then dragged the dead body
and laid it under the lehua tree, covered it over with
leaves and ferns, fixed it so that it could not be seen and
returned to his home. (Fornander V: 190)

A further example of hewa that arises from desire is the story of

Kamanawa, a high chief and remarkable warrior for Kamehameha.
Most people today know Kamanawa from his image, along with his
twin brother, Kame‘eiamoku, on the royal coat of arms.
This sound proved to be the wailing over Kamakinki [sic],
the wife of a chief of high rank. Strong suspicions being
entertained of her having been poisoned by drinking
ava, which her husband, Kamanawa, had prepared for
her, he was apprehended, together with an accomplice,
whose name was Sono. Three days after their arrest, they
were put under trial before Kekuanaoa, the governor, as
presiding judge, and a jury of twelve Hawaiians. [. . .] They
were found guilty by the jury, and Sono confessed on the
trial that he had committed one other murder.
332  Hewa

The facts in relation to the murder of the chief ’s wife

were as follows.

The husband and wife had been for some time separated,
because the chief wished to marry another woman,
for whom he had formed a strong attachment. Having
already one wife, this was forbidden by the law, and he
in consequence determined to rid himself of her.
[. . .] Accordingly, a seeming reconciliation was brought
about, and they met at the house of a son-in-law of
Kamakinki to celebrate it by drinking ava. Two bowls
of the liquor were prepared, the one unadulterated,
the other mixed with poison composed of Tephrosia
piscatoria, Daphne indica, and the leaves of a common
gourd (Lagenaria). From the first of these the company
drank, but when Kamakinki called for her share, which
was handed to her by Kamanawa her husband, she, after
taking a few mouthfuls, complained of its bitterness.
On asking if the other cups had tasted so, and being
answered in the negative, she at once accused her
husband of having poisoned her.

[. . .] When Kamanawa drugged the ava, he had doubts

whether it would prove effective, but was glad to find it
so. [. . .] But there was no pardon; and the criminals were
hung on the 20th of October, on the walls of the fort,
the king having gone some days previously to Lahaina.
(Wilkes IV: 30–31)

The Chiefs of the Kingdom—Signs of Remorse and Shame

Along with observations of hewa, the vast traditions also record
the reactions of individuals, mostly chiefs, of remorse and shame.
Previously, in the account of KihaaPi‘ilani, his father-in-law, when
asked by Kiha’s wife for certain lands that Kiha wanted in the Hāna
district, reacted by bowing his head in silence. What did that mean?
It is the same reaction we saw when ‘Ī‘ī tells of Kamehameha’s
reaction to the waste of fish caught.
The king [Kamehameha] said nothing at the time, but
sat with bowed head and downcast eyes, apparently
 No Nā Mamo  333

The warrior chiefs Kamanawa and his twin brother, Kame‘eiamoku, are depicted on the coat
of arms of the Hawaiian Kingdom, as seen on the gates of ‘Iolani Palace.

disapproving of such reckless waste. [. . .] However,

Kalanimoku, apparently knowing why the king kept his
head bowed, commanded Kinopu to release most of the
fish. (49)

A very powerful example of an individual’s reaction of shame is

seen in an encounter between Queen Ka‘ahumanu and her brother
Kalanimoku over the apparently wrongful imprisonment of his
friend Ka-nuha “who was to be banished to Kahoolawe for using
government money belonging to Hawaii” (Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs
308). Kalanimoku said, “‘I shall use the money of Hawaii as long as I
live; after my death it can be used for the government. I am the one
to be banished and not my friend Ka-nuha.’ At these words Ka‘ahu-
manu burst out weeping and covered her head in her blankets”
(Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs 308). Kamakau also writes that
[. . .] it is well known among the chiefs that Ka-‘ahu-manu
snubbed Ku-wahine for winding Ke-ka-ulu-ohi’s skirt
about herself, and Ku-wahine wailed aloud with shame.

[. . .] Ka-iki-o-‘ewa was Ku-wahine’s father, and he was

hurt by Ka-‘ahu-manu’s snub [. . .]. (Ruling Chiefs 393)
334  Hewa

The missionary C. S. Stewart witnessed another, similar episode

of strong emotions being publicly displayed.
As we approached, her [Kekau‘ōnohi] eyes filled
with tears, and, with a voice almost inarticulate from
emotions ready to overpower her, she lifted her
hand, and, pointing to the scene of intemperance and
debauchery, exclaimed, “Pupuka! pupuka!” “Shameful!
oh shameful!” and throwing herself backward with a
convulsive sob, hid her face and her tears in a roll of
tapa, against which she was reclining. (195)

The reactions of Ka‘ahumanu and Kekau‘ōnohi remind me of

what I have read in Brad Shore’s description of one of the pivotal
actions of the Samoan equivalent to ho‘oponopono, called ifoga,
when the head chief or the head of the family publicly revokes shame
by covering himself or his head with a mat.
[. . .] there are traditional judicial processes that operate
within and between extended families—such as the ifoga
(humbling) that the senior chief of family must undergo
toward the chief of another group against which an
offense has been committed. This humiliation involves,
for the chief, publicly kneeling or sitting before the house
of the offended group with a mat placed over his head.
(111)

An extreme response to individual shame is suicide. ‘Ī‘ī writes

of the tragic “suicide because of shame” (99) in the life of the chief
Kalaniakua. She was also known as Kalani Kauiōkikilo and was
the younger sister of Keku‘iapoiwa. They were the members of
the defeated chiefs of Maui and O‘ahu and became consorts to
Kamehameha.
She [Kalaniakua] died by suicide because of shame at the
frequent jibes from Liliha about “homeless chiefs, who
dwell under my protection and that of my kaikunane,
Kamehameha, whose kingdom this is. They destroyed
our child, these captives whom we brought here from
Iao.” Liliha spoke thus, perhaps, because Kalaniakua
 No Nā Mamo  335

was pregnant by Kamehameha and the child died in her

womb.

One day Liliha secretly sent her grandson, Liholiho, to

go and cling to Kalaniakua’s back while she sat in the
open talking with a company of women. While they
were absorbed in conversation, the young chief clung to
Kalaniakua’s back until she reached around for him and
placed him on her lap. When Kalaniakua repeated this,
Liliha, who was watching was filled with wrath. [Being
of highest kapu, Liholiho had the right to climb upon
Kalaniakua’s back]. (Ii 99)

‘Ī‘ī writes that Kalaniakua was “despised” (99) and “unhappy”

(100), that “[w]e know that grief weighed heavily upon Kalaniakua
for the things Liliha had done” (100), and that her actions were
“wrong” (100). He says, “They were wrong because of, first, her great
regard for her own rank; second, her lack of respect for the kapu of
Liholiho; and, third, her destruction of the unborn child [. . .]” (100).
This would be a most strange dilemma to reconcile whose actions are
the hewa, Liliha’s or Kalaniakua’s, had not ‘Ī‘ī concluded with
“[a]pplicable here is Solomon’s saying, ‘The wicked is driven
away in his wickedness: but the righteous hath hope in his death.
(Ho‘okuke‘ia ka mea hewa iloko o kona hewa; Lana ho‘i ka mana‘o
o ka mea pono i kona make ana.)’ – Proverbs 14:32” (100). His
injunction of a Biblical quote referring to hewa leads me to wonder if
traditionally hewa really can be equated with wickedness and sin?

Hewa and Hala

When we look at the traditions for instances of hewa we
encounter another term, hala. From their descriptions in the Pukui
and Elbert Hawaiian Dictionary, you might think that hewa and
hala were the same thing. There is little difference between the two
definitions, and both are heavily overlaid with Christian concepts
of sin and guilt. But reading Malo we can conclude that they are not
the same thing. Malo uses hewa to contrast to pono in his chapter
heading, and then he goes into great detail to tell us that what is
not pono is hewa. Hence, if pono is the right way of living, then
336  Hewa

hewa is its antithesis, its opposite. It is the wrong way of living, not
wickedness or sin.
But when we look further, the dictionary does give us clues to
help us understand both the similarities and the differences between
these words. When we consider the reduplication of hala we can
guess that halahala, or its causative ho‘ohalahala, will probably
mean something like doing or finding more fault. Pukui and Elbert
confirm this with their definition of “[t]o criticize” (1986: 51). But the
reduplication of hewa, hewahewa, is not something worse than bad.
In this form, it means a “great many, very, vast” (1986: 67), relating
to the fourth meaning of hewa, but also takes on a second meaning—
“[c]razy, demented, wild, aimless” (1986: 67).
When we use the causative form ho‘ohewahewa it becomes “[t]o
fail to recognize” (1986: 67). I think this is key to understanding the
difference as well as the similarity in these words.
We see that hewa cannot be reduplicated but hala can. Hewa can
only stand alone and does not work in a way in which you can add the
prefix ho‘o- to it. The authors of Nānā I Ke Kumu gave some clarity to
this puzzle when they wrote, “In the traditional understanding of hala
as a transgression or offense, is a subtle but significant axiom of human
relationships: that the wrong-doer and the wronged are linked together
by the very existence of the transgression and its chain of after-effects”
(Pukui, Haertig, and Lee I :71).
Further clarity between the two words is evident when the matter
reaches a point of forgiveness or reconciliation. The word for that is
kala. Pukui and Elbert give us a sense of what forgiveness is about
when they describe kala as “[t]o loosen, untie, free, release, remove,
unburden, absolve, let go, acquit, take off, undo [. . .]” (1986:120).
There is a compound word kalahala which is defined as “[a]tonement,
remission of sins; to pardon, absolve from sin [. . .] (1986: 120). The
compound kala hewahewa means “[t]o give away in an insane
manner, as would a crazy person” (1986: 120) based upon the second
meaning of hewahewa.
I think the tradition of Lonoikamakahiki, mentioned before, is
a good example to demonstrate this linguistic anthropology. Lono is
a chief with a violent temper whose wife is remarkably beautiful and
faithful to him. But she has many detractors who are jealous of her,
 No Nā Mamo  337

and they conspired to cause both Lono and his wife harm. We should
recall Kamakau’s telling of this story.
While Lono lived with his wife, Ka-iki-lani, he proved
to be a bad-tempered chief, who was jealous of his
wife because of her beauty, and frequently gave her a
beating. [. . .] There were some people there who wished
to tease because they disliked the chiefess and were
jealous of the beauty of her face and form. They thought
of finding a cause for her to be killed by being beaten. [.
. .] Lono and the chiefs heard, and so did all the people
who were gathered there, inside and outside of the shed.
Lono grasped a block of wood and cruelly beat his wife,
unmercifully smiting her to death. When he saw that
she was dead, an unhappy feeling possessed him, and he
became crazy with the grief for his wife. (Ruling Chiefs
47–48)

Compressed into this story are the elements of jealousy, anger and
rage, guilt and shame, extreme grief that develops into madness, and
eventual remorse. From this we can see how hewa, this moral quality
of misjudgment, can develop reduplicated into hewahewa or madness.
Captain King observed what appears to have been a similar fit of
jealous rage between a couple during the makahiki celebration and
games.
At one of the entertainments of boxing, Omeah was
observed to rise from his place two or three times, and
to go up to his wife with strong marks of displeasure,
ordering her, as it appeared to us from his manner,
to withdraw. [. . .] However, she kept her place; and
when the entertainment was over, joined our party,
and soliciting some trifling presents. [. . .] She was
accordingly walking along with us; which Omeah
observing, followed in a violent rage, and seizing her by
the hair, began to inflict, with his fists, a severe corporal
punishment. This fight, especially as we had innocently
been the cause of it, gave us much concern; and yet we
were told, that it would be highly improper to interfere
between man and wife of such high rank. We were,
338  Hewa

however, not left without the consolation of seeing the

natives at last interpose; and had the farther satisfaction
of meeting them together the next day, in perfect good-
humour with each other; and what is still more singular,
the lady would not suffer us to remonstrate with her
husband on his treatment of her, which we were much
inclined to do, and plainly told us, that he had done no
more than he ought. (King, J. 165–166)

It is possible that the presence of the Englishmen produced a

non-fatal outcome, even though they did not physically intervene.
What does this all say about the quality of hewa? I think it is very
suggestive that hewa is a state of being, reflective of one’s mental or
moral condition, a state of mind implied in Malo’s description of
choosing between pono and hewa. Hala is the act of doing something
wrong. Archbishop Desmond Tutu describes this ability inherent in
being able to choose.
[T]o do evil is part and parcel of our ability to do good.
One is meaningless without the other. Empathy and
compassion have no meaning unless they occur in a
situation where one could be callous and indifferent
to the suffering of others. To have any possibility of
moral growth there has to be the possibility of becoming
immoral. (13)

Hence, hewa is not a concept for which there can be forgiveness

(kala or kalahala). Rather, it is hala that can be forgiven.

Kalahala
We find the concept of kala+hala to be part of the vocabulary
of the kahuna ‘anā‘anā kuni, a class of priest not usually thought
of today as being associated with healing and whose title has often
been translated as sorcerer. These kāhuna were responsible for
forgiving (kalahala) the trespasses of other persons. As we saw in the
discussion of ho‘oponopono, kalahala was one of their duties.
One of his duties as a kahuna ‘ana‘ana in his practice
of kuni (iloko o kana ‘oihana kuni) was to kalahala—
 No Nā Mamo  339

remove the grounds for offense within the victim, and

so remove (wehe) the affliction (make) sent by another.
(Kamakau, Ka Po‘e Kahiko 122)

This lesser known aspect of traditional healing practice is

corroborated by Kamakau’s contemporary Zephyrin Kahōāli‘i
Kepelino in a brief article entitled “Te Tala,” reproduced and
translated in Kirtley and Mo‘okini (59). Although the translators
rendered it as “counter-sorcery,” te tala literally means “to forgive,”
and inserting this definition into the translation gives support to
Kamakau’s statement.
He mea te Tala i pili i na tahuna anaana a pau, O te tahu
anaana atamai ma te tala ana i ta anaanaia mai e tetahi, oia
te tahuna oiaio; a o ta mea ite ole ma ia hana, he holona ia.

Elua mea nui iloto o ta anaana, o te ta.. mate, o te tala ola.

[. . .] Penei ta hana mua: hootolotolo mua oia ia ia iho, me
ta imi maopopo i tona lavehala i ta mea i tolohe mai ia ia.
(Kirtley and Mo‘okini 59)

Forgiveness (te Tala) is something associated with all

the priests involved with sorcery. The skilled guardian of
sorcery was able to counter (te tala ‘ana) the sorcery of
another. This was the true priest and one who was not able
to do so was unskilled (holona).

There were two important things in sorcery: causing death

(o te tala mate) and restoring health (o te tala ola). [. . .]
This is what is first done: he first examines (ho‘otolotolo)
himself, to see what errors and deeds he has done wrong
against the person who wants to harm him. (Author’s
translation)

These two sources give evidence of the fact that in traditional

society a person could see atonement when faced with the ultimate
punishment of death by sorcery. Kalahala has been perceived by
some as a counter to sorcery more than as healing. But after the
demise of the traditional priesthoods we see in the evolution of
ho‘oponopono how important kalahala becomes to the mental and
spiritual healing of Hawaiians.
340  Hewa

Guilt and Shame

Ernest Kurtz, in his work with Alcoholics Anonymous, sees a
similar relationship between the concepts of guilt and shame. He
describes guilt as relating to “an infraction, a breaking of the rules;
shame, a literal ‘shortcoming,’ a lack or defect of being” (4).
Guilt focuses on the thing done and thus reveals itself
in self-reproaches [. . .] shame attends to self as do-er,
inducing self-reproaches with a very different emphasis
[. . .]. Too often, therapists settle for the resolution of
guilt when it is the confrontation with shame that is the
hurting person’s deepest need. (7)

Where have we seen this before? At each implementation of

the process of ho‘oponopono, whether with couples and families or
before large lecture groups, there comes a point where we do not
necessarily wish to determine who did what to whom, but what is
causing people to inflict so much hurt upon each other. For some
victims, that might seem unbearable because of what has been done
to them, and that burden becomes even more unbearable when
forgiveness is sought from everyone, including the victim. As Kurtz
has learned from his experiences with Alcoholics Anonymous, it is
confronting the hurt, and not the guilt, that is the deepest need. As he
describes the hurt or shame, it
focuses on the self: it is the perception of not just any
lack or failure, but of the deficiency of the self as self, as
human being. Shame testifies not to wrong-doing but to
flawed be-ing. (7)

We should recall what Pukui has said about this stage of

ho‘oponopono and why it is important for both the perpetrator and
the victim to be involved.
The person against whom the feeling of resentment was
directed was asked to forgive him, also. If he, in turn,
bore an ill will and had thought or spoken evil against
him, he must ask to be pardoned. First the patient
confessed and was forgiven, then he in turn forgave the
 No Nā Mamo  341

trespasses of the others against him. A mutual feeling of

affection and willingness to cooperate had to exist in the
family and the household before anything further could
be done. (Ho‘oponopono, audiotape)

This is why I believe Kurtz can write that there is a positive side
to the recognition of shame.
Perhaps surprisingly, despite the depth of self involved
in shame’s feeling “bad,” the sense of shame itself is a
good thing—something to be cherished and valued.
[. . .] Shame [. . .] despite its negative side that points up
failure and falling short, also entails something positive:
insight into the reality of the human condition. (7–8)

Kamakau addressed this when he wrote about some of the causes

of the depopulation of the islands in pre-contact times. He described
the horrible actions committed by certain chiefs out of vengeance
that led to a destructive circle of violence.
Revenge was another great cause of strife in old days; a
feud was carried on by the descendants of those involved
even up to the time of the coming of the missionaries.
Pele-io-holani cherished a feeling of enmity against the
chiefs of Molokai for the death of his daughter Ke‘e-
lani-honua-ia-kama, and at the battle of Kapu‘unoni he
slaughtered the chiefs and roasted them in an oven at
Hakawai in Kalua‘aha, and he attacked the commoners
inhumanly, all for revenge. Ka-hekili sought to avenge
upon the chiefs of Oahu their slaying of the chiefs and
commoners of Maui. They had taken Ka-uhi-a-Kama
prisoner to Oahu and roasted him in an oven, and they
had used his skull as a filth pot. Such acts of vengeance
added to the distresses of the people. The chiefs of
Hawaii and Molokai retaliated upon Pele-io-holani, as
at the oven of Kuna at Waikiki and that of the chiefs at
Hekili above Kanela‘au in Honolulu [. . .] It is even said
that Ka-lani-moku left the body of Ke-kua-o-ka-lani
on the lava rocks after the battle of Kuamo‘o instead of
having it buried according to his rank as chief, [and that
342  Hewa

he did this] as an act of vengeance because Ke-kua-o-ka-

lani’s ancestor, Alapa‘i-nui-a-Ka-uaua, had drowned Ka-
lani-moku’s ancestor, Ka-uhi-‘aimoku-a-Kama, at Nu‘u
in Kaupo. He was tied and thrown into the sea at Puhele
and left to the mercy of the sharks. This left bad blood in
the family which broke out at the death of Ke-kua-o-ka-
lani. (Ruling Chiefs 232–233)

But like Kurtz, Kamakau realized that to end the circle of

violence something positive must occur and he suggests,
If the sins committed by the ancestors are thus cherished,
they become like a smoldering flame which will burst
forth upon the descendants, causing the destruction of
chiefs and people. Any feeling of revenge in the hearts of
our people should be rooted out [. . .].” (Ruling Chiefs 233)

Where Do We Go From Here?

This book began with Pono and now ends with Hewa. That was
a very conscious and intentional decision. It is not hard to recognize
that the complexity of modern society, compounded by modern
technology, has caused peoples across the world to struggle with
choices regarding how to live. Popular culture is full of modern-day
myths about good and evil, and we see their confrontation played
out in every aspect of modern life, from small-scale and local issues
to the way religious ideas of morality influence global politics. The
acknowledgment of global environmental problems adds another
layer of tension to the total picture.
For indigenous peoples, the Peoples of the land and seas, this
situation is even more urgent. We are still faced with issues of identity
and culture caused by colonialism, compounded by the continual
loss of wise elders and good leadership, and by a population of young
people for whom traditional culture and language seem increasingly
foreign in their own homes. In a matter of years some indigenous
peoples will have lost their home lands, whether because of a rising
ocean or whether they are displaced as the melting of the ice pack
leads to the extinction of the animals they depend on for food.
Ironically it is the issue of global warming that has finally given
 No Nā Mamo  343

creditability to the voice and concerns of indigenous peoples. The

wisdom and experience of the indigenous peoples of Andaman and
Nicobar Islands on December 31, 2004 that allowed them to flee
before the arrival of the tsunami caught the attention of scientists and
world media (Misra). Environmental activist Sheila Watt-Cloutier’s
monitoring of the climate changes in the Arctic region and warning
of its devastating effect on Inuit life were recognized by the United
Nations in 2007 with the awarding of the Mahbub ul Haq Award for
Outstanding Contributions to Human Development.
As the world begins to rediscover indigenous knowledge as
relevant and increasingly essential to human survival, more challenges
for the People arise from the sharing of resources (human and natural)
in a market economy, cultural survival in a political landscape of
simple majorities, and asserting a role of moral leadership.
As an active participant and observer for the past twenty-five
years in various government and private organizations dealing with
indigenous issues, I have seen some remarkable achievements and
some monumental mistakes. Both results were the consequence of
whether or not decisions were made from a cultural perspective and
of the depth of understanding the decision-makers had of their own
culture. Let me give a “graphic illustration,” as the late master slack-key
musician Gabby Pahinui used to urge me to do when talking story with
him. When the Office of Hawaiian Affairs was located right below the
offices of the trustees of the Bishop Estate/Kamehameha Schools, their
chairman, Richard “Papa” Lyman, would send for me every once in a
while to talk story. Papa Lyman loved to speculate about the multiple
and hidden meaning of Hawaiian words, something that drove his
fellow trustees nuts. One day our administrator, T. C. Yim, told me he
had a call from Papa Lyman and, “you better go up now.” This time he
wanted to talk about an area in east Honolulu that the estate owned
and could possibly develop into a master planned resort-community
of hotel-resort, condominiums, and shopping center. It was the last
undeveloped area on that side of the island and a place I knew well
for spearing uhu ‘parrot fish’ to bring to a Chinese restaurant to be
cooked sweet-sour style. There were burial dunes in the sandy beach
area and a fisherman’s shelter cave across the main road that had
been revealed by a brush fire.
344  Hewa

I told Papa that if our ancestors did not have a village there,
wouldn’t that suggest that they did not believe it was inhabitable.
Where was the source of ever-flowing water? If we develop it now,
everything would have to be imported to sustain life there. The next
day I got a call from one of the estate’s land officers who asked if I
had been talking recently to Papa Lyman because the project had
been shelved.
In the ensuing years we have witnessed heavy downpours and
flooding in this area. The entire island has sustainability problems for
garbage control, water supply, and other problems that come with
urban development. Much of the area has finally been purchased by
the government for natural preservation. I would hope that from
the clues of the past we would have learned that some places do not
need to be “developed,” for they already have been developed to their
fullest potential.
When asked why he was so knowledgeable, Kamehameha II
responded, “Na wai ho‘i ka ‘ole o ke akamai, he alanui i ma‘a i ka hele
‘ia e o‘u mau mākua? Why shouldn’t I know, when it is a road often
traveled by my parents?” (Pukui, ‘Ōlelo No‘eau 251). The problem,
as I have tried to point out in this book, is not only knowing what
wisdom is, but also knowing how to use it, and that brings us back
to choices, and to the cultural basis of pono and hewa. When we
look back at Malo’s chapter on this subject, we see that he rightfully
identifies the source of it all to be “ka manao no o ka naau mai” (42),
the thought from the gut or the heart of a person. I believe Malo
is talking not about a mere whim or fancy of a person’s desire, but
the very core and essence of that person’s being—when they are so
comfortable with making a decision because it is second nature to
them. The battle between good and evil, or the choice between them,
is not about one over the other; it is about how a person wants to
live. When someone realizes this, then decisions and choices become
part of the cultural identity through which life is experienced and
expressed. It is no wonder that the major religions of the world
include in their beliefs such prescriptions as how to eat, dress, and
behave. Those morals do not guarantee salvation by themselves,
but they certainly give an identity and an anchor to hold on to in a
complex world of uncertainty.
 No Nā Mamo  345

A way of living for indigenous peoples is more than behavioral

controls. It is more than a tradition or the way that it has always
been done. It is about the way we see and relate to the world around
us now. The genius of our peoples is in keeping those traditions for
future generations to know, but in also reinventing and recreating
them for today. That synthesis is the way in which we see and relate
to the world around us now. If we cannot live as such then we do not
exist as a People, and we are just like everyone else.
346  Hewa

13 Afterword

[I]ndigenous forms of governance will never become a reality

if they are not guided by traditional indigenous values.
Dale Turner commenting on the work of Taiaiake Alfred, director
of the School of Indigenous Governance at the University of Victoria, B.C.

There are more virtues, values, and other interesting subjects to

be looked into than what I have covered in this book. I have tried
to present a view of the way we live, think, and behave through the
stories and examples of our ancestors and the people they welcomed
to these islands. In doing this, everyone involved in this project has
discovered things that we did not know about when we started—
information that has challenged the way things had been taught to us
and the way we had believed they were. A colleague told me after a
lunch gathering that, upon hearing about our project, he was pleased
that the Department of Education was involved with a “Hawaiian”
project. He had let the idea go at that, until he began to read the
material and realized how little he knew about us. He said that we
were making a remarkable contribution. Coming to the end of this
book, I hope that we have lived up to his assessment.
In presenting our culture from the oldest sources—both primary
sources of our own people as well as the earliest outside views—I
intended to demonstrate that we have a common and shared culture
and set of values throughout these islands. There certainly was
regional diversity, and remnants still exist today, but the people could
and did communicate with one another and interact together. This
was certainly made clear to the British explorers under the command
of Captain James Cook when, upon arriving at Eastern Maui and
Hawai‘i late in 1778, they learned that news of their first landfall at
Ni‘ihau and Kaua‘i in the spring of that year was common knowledge
throughout the island chain. The British would also discover how fast
venereal disease, and perhaps other infectious diseases (Stannard 74),
had also spread across the islands.
We also discovered from this approach how our cultural
practices and values have changed from that common base,
 No Nā Mamo  347

sometimes slightly and at other times immensely. It has not been my

intention to disparage the actions of groups or individuals in how they
have interpreted cultural practices and concepts, but to demonstrate
by comparison the cultural change, again for good or bad.
Each generation has a responsibility ‘kuleana’ to ensure that it
hands down cultural traditions as it has learned them. This action
provides a continuity and link to the source. But each generation also
has the right ‘kuleana’ to interpret those traditions as they relate to
their own situation and to add their experience and rendering to the
tradition.
There are two examples that come to mind that illustrate this
point. The first involves the method of teaching being implemented
by a hālau hula ‘hula school’ where many of the students did not
know the language and culture and some were not Hawaiian. I wrote
about how this came about when I was asked to put together the
biography of kumu hula ‘hula instructor or master’ Maiki Aiu Lake
for the Oxford University Press.
Her students would learn Hawaiian genealogies, culture,
mannerism, legends, poetry and the “beauties of our
own Hawaii” (Ariyoshi, 1998, 73). She instituted written
instructions because she had been advised by Hawaiian
cultural authority and mentor Mary Kawena Pukui that
since the Hawaiian language was no longer being spoken
it would be better to have things written down. She put
up a blackboard in the Studio, which was unheard of,
and required her students to conduct individual research
and be tested once a month. If they failed they were to
leave the training. (Chun, “Maiki Aiu Lake” 2)

The second example involves a dilemma I and my co-workers

at the Queen Lili‘uokalani Children’s Center faced when we were
teaching our staff, professional social workers and others, to offer
ho‘oponopono to the families who came to the center for help. We
wanted to be true to what Mary Kawena Pukui had desired when she
introduced the center to the use of ho‘oponopono: that the families
should be engaged in this cultural practice and not be dependent
upon professionals to provide them with it.
348  Afterword

But, we also had to train staff, both Hawaiian and non-Hawaiian,

to take the lead roles those family leaders should have been taking.
After deliberating on those factors we developed a program whereby
staff would train and work with a mentor, someone experienced
in ho‘oponopono, and they would also, through experience and
teaching, guide the family to learn how to practice ho‘oponopono
without us.
In both examples I believe the innovation, which was to
accommodate the reality of the times, works because the goals were
not to deliberately change the tradition but to help in the transferring
of cultural knowledge. Today we have several kumu hula with their
hālau who are graduates of that experience as well as many cultural
practitioners of ho‘oponopono who I hope are empowering the
families they work with to learn and practice it among themselves.
I also believe we have raised a lot more questions than we have
answered, and I can see many new avenues of research coming out of
this work. In general, continued analysis of how we are doing things
now and in what direction we are headed, particularly with regards to
the touchy subjects of sovereignty and politics, would be tantalizing
and would help guide us in this journey of self-determination.
There is a lot of work to be done on the territorial period,
especially the period right after annexation. This has been the dream
of one of my American Studies mentors, Paul Hooper, who knows
how little work has been done in this area. Consider these factors: the
early territorial legislature was dominated by the Home Rule Party
led by Native Hawaiian Robert Wilcox. Wilcox became Hawai‘i’s first
congressional representative, and when he was defeated the second
congressional representative was Jonah Kūhiō Kalaniana‘ole. Why?
Because Native Hawaiians were still the majority of voters. They had
been excluded in the Republic of Hawaii by voting rules that would
inspire the exclusion of Black (African-American) voters in the “Jim
Crow” South of the United States decades later.
Just a few years later, the 1920s saw the enactment of the
Hawaiian Homes Act, and hand-in-hand with this, the founding
of the Hawaiian civic clubs. A thorough understanding of this time
could only benefit us now, as the federal establishment of the “blood
quota” codified in that law still dominates Hawaiian politics.
 No Nā Mamo  349

I have yet to see a biography and analysis of the life and

contributions of Abigail Kamokila Campbell. I remember her from
when I was a little boy wandering around Lanikūhonua and then
walking right up to this very tall and imposing Hawaiian woman. An
analysis of her role in island politics would be enlightening.
We have seen in this book how traditions and values can be
transformed, and the territorial period was one of tremendous
impact upon Hawaiians. It was during this time that Te Rangi Hiroa
(Sir Peter Buck) wrote in a letter to his pal Sir Apirana Ngata,
The Hawaiians have turned to American politics in
which party influences most of the Government jobs
including the appointment of policemen. All the same
they are nice lovable people but lack organisation and
high incentive. (Sorrenson II: 202)

The Hawaiians have no leaders, such as you and I

would recognise. Any such leader would have taken
to the platform or the press and disassociated the
Hawaiian people from the Massie case. The abhorrence
of the Hawaiian people to acts of violence against
women should have been vehemently stressed, and
the two accused youths with Hawaiian blood treated
as individuals who had departed from Hawaiian ideals
through improper assimilation of western culture.
(Sorrenson II: 280)

I also regret that the chapter on “Aloha” did not lead up to the
present day so we could all understand how such a cultural value
has become an economic powerhouse in these islands and how that
power affects the very culture and people from whence it came,
again, in ways both good and bad. I am afraid that just that subject
alone would make a book by itself. Recently there have been several
books on the subject of “aloha” related to tourism and economics,
some analytical and others bordering on self-help and how-to books.
It would be important to discover how all of that compares to the
Hawaiian traditions about aloha and hospitality.
What we did find in common throughout all the chapters of this
book is the concept of pono. Because of my work translating Davida
350  Afterword

Malo’s manuscript Ka Moolelo Hawaii, I began this project with a

notion that such a concept would run deep through the culture. But
the tremendous number of stories that dealt with some form of pono
has been astounding.
Its importance today is reaffirmed in schools like Keaukaha
Elementary on the island of Hawai‘i, whose principal Lehua Veincent
and his faculty and staff have made pono the standard of behavior for
their students and school community. A picture of the students from
the school wearing their “Got Pono?” t-shirts is included in the color
section of this book because they are nā mamo, the generation of the
future.
It is also reaffirmed by Linda Oba, a recently retired teacher
at Olomana School, who introduced the chapter on pono to her
class of incarcerated girls who, at first, just seemed bored. But when
challenged to express what they had read about pono they took
cameras out of the classroom to discover what they could find that
was pono in their midst. As we have discovered in these chapters it
is easier to describe the negative than the positive, and her students
took pictures of the barbed wire fence. They said they could find
something that was pono: a coconut tree beyond the barbed wire that
they could capture if you took the photo at a very tight angle from
the ground and the flowers of tiny weeds growing through the cracks
of the concrete pavement in the courtyard.
One of the students did manage to express herself, and quite
eloquently, in an essay about her thoughts on pono.
Through the struggle to preserve our culture many
feel that this generation is careless about the Hawaiian
traditions. But this is very untrue. We as teens see
the world in our own ways, and we know that our
traditions are beginning to die. As much as we want to
do something about this, we are clueless about what to
do. What are we suppose to do anyway? We watch our
elders and we do what we see, we learn what they teach,
and we perpetuate. If we aren’t taught the things that
the Hawaiian society wants us to learn then what are
we suppose to teach others and how are we to carry on
tradition.
 No Nā Mamo  351

I suppose we could answer her with the lists of programs, classes,

workshops, books, DVDs, and other materials or with strong words
about preserving the culture. This book is another example of the
effort being made to inform and maintain our culture and our way
of seeing and thinking about the world. There is a lot going on
concerning cultural preservation and maintenance, and a lot of funds
being allocated to pay for it all. There have been some significant
inroads made in a short time, and the present generation and, no
doubt, future generations, may take those victories for granted:
language recovery, performing arts, hula, and competitive sports,
particularly outrigger canoeing. Hawaiian language pre-schools and
immersion programs as well as advanced college degree programs
in Hawaiian Studies and language enroll students of all ages and of
varied cultural and racial backgrounds.
But I believe we must go beyond these efforts if we are, to
paraphrase what Martin Brokenleg once preached to a group of us,
to do more than the same things we have always done, which get the
same results. Linda Oba’s student is asking us not only to transmit
the cultural practices to her generation but to also empower them
with the tools to make those practices a part of their lives. We can tell
them the stories, the traditions, but does that make them a storyteller?
Linguist Joshua Fishman puts it even more succinctly when he says,
“my wife engages in laptop publishing [. . .] for our grandchildren. But
let me tell you, the true lap top here is my lap and her lap and the laps
of the children’s mother and father. That is a bond with the language
that will stay with them after we are long gone” (80).
The manner of this book has been to present the intellectual and
cultural traditions embodied in the different way we see the world
so students like Oba’s can make decisions about how and why the
traditional stories have meaning to them and create new experiences
for their audience, the next generation. What I hope has occurred
in reading and reflecting about this book is seeing and knowing,
which are the same word in Hawaiian, ‘ike. They, too, are cultural
practices that manifest our virtues and values. They are equal to,
and sometimes more important than, being on a stage or in a sports
competition. If you put them into action they can win you the prize.
With them you have a presence and the confidence of authority, and
352  Afterword

you embody what you are doing because it is you. It is your soul and
spirit, not acting or replicating.
Two well-known quilters, the late Bessie Like and the late Meali‘i
Kalama, told me how much emotion was physically transferred into
their quilts with every stitch. If they were having a good day Auntie
Bessie would complete a whole hoop in one evening, but on another
day she might have to remove all the stitches she made because it
looked bad. Therefore, Meali‘i would say, her quilts were full of
herself and her love. They have a certain quality to them, a certain
life, and we can see that when we look at them. But in recent years
quilters have looked to perfection of stitches and design and their
quilts, and these quilts, at least to me, look stiff and lifeless.
One answer to the challenge of cultural maintenance and
creativity for this generation and those yet to come is a new strategy
that brings together, with equal emphasis, an “indigenous philosophy”
and the instant gratification that is so important to the young.
I found this strategy, and the term indigenous philosophy, in
the recent writings of Dale Turner who advocates for the need for
indigenous peoples to have “indigenous thinking and world views”
that enable them to engage with Western (dominant society) legal,
political, and cultural practices as indigenous intellectuals who can
interpret, translate, and engage indigenous philosophy (9).
Turner makes a case for being able to articulate from within an
indigenous philosophy that generates “explanations of the world
expressed in indigenous normative languages.” However, a problem
arises when “legal and political discourses of the state do not use
indigenous philosophies to justify their legitimacy. The asymmetry
arises because indigenous peoples must use the normative language
of the dominant culture to ultimately defend world views that are
embedded in completely different normative frameworks” (Turner
81). Hence, he is advocating that those indigenous peoples trained
in the Western education system need to collaborate more with
traditional cultural practitioners as never done before to develop
counter strategies in developing the ways, whether they be laws,
codes, or programs, for cultural maintenance to truly work for the
people and not for the dominant culture. He describes this new
strategy in these terms.
 No Nā Mamo  353

If we take seriously the idea that protecting indigenous

nationhood is a priority for an indigenous intellectual
culture, we need to be able to speak and write
convincingly in indigenous terms and be able to change
how these arguments are used in the institutions
of the state. Indigenous intellectuals must be both
philosophical and political. But how is this possible? I
believe part of the answer lies in how well indigenous
peoples can reconcile an indigenous academic
culture with the existing forms of leadership found
in indigenous nations. Thinking about indigenous
problems, engaging other people’s ideas, publishing
one’s thoughts, and holding dialogues with those who
disagree with us means little if these ideas do not lead to
transformations in indigenous nations. Those nations
require intellectual leaders and political leaders to work
together. (emphasis in original) (Turner 106)

What is this intellectual culture or philosophy? His quotation of

Osage English professor Robert Allen Warrior illustrates this point
well.
If our struggle is anything, it is a way of life. That way
of life is not a matter of defining a political ideology
or having a detached discussion about the unifying
structures and essences of American Indian traditions. It
is a decision—a decision we make in our minds, in our
hearts, and in our bodies—to be sovereign and to find
out what that means in the process. (Turner 89)

This is, in essence, what I struggled to say in the first chapter

on Pono and why I deliberately choose that term to attempt to label
what has to happen “in our minds, in our hearts and in our bodies”
to go beyond mere words and lofty ideals. Like many Hawaiian
words, pono has become so fashionable it is bantered about in
a growing number of settings. One of these was an invitation-
only event sponsored by the Maui Native Hawaiian Chamber of
Commerce where the leading Democratic candidates in the 2010
Hawai‘i gubernatorial race, both non-Hawaiians, faced off. As Maui
354  Afterword

News writer Chris Hamilton describes the event, “each presented

strategies to bring long-sought assistance to the host culture.” He
added that “Hannemann and Abercrombie often used the word
‘pono,’ or doing what’s right, to explain how they will assist the
Native Hawaiian people.” Did either candidate know what they
really meant when they used pono? Do they know what it means
to Hawaiians? Or is the word pono becoming so over-used that
it is losing its original meaning and becoming a trendy catch-all,
like aloha or ‘ohana, in what, Turner reminds us, is the normative
language of the dominant culture.
Although Turner advocates a blend of academic and indigenous
cultures, we don’t all need to either belong to an elite intellectual
class or become politicians in order to know and live our culture.
What we do need is to become better decision-makers, recognizing
the commonality we share—that elusive ideal of lōkahi or “unity”—
and grounding our lives upon the virtues and values that maintain
our relationships with each other. We must strive to no longer be
practitioners of culture, but to live it daily in our lives as a people
from all economic, educational, and social levels. That is what is
needed for generations to come—no nā mamo.
 No Nā Mamo  355

Appendix

Hearing for a Deeper Understanding

of Indigenous Knowledge:
Things We Learned from Publishing Indigenous Material
By Malcolm Nāea Chun & Lori Ward

Collaboration, Style and Form

We began our collaboration on a federal Native Hawaiian
Education grant-funded project to develop and publish a series
of books to help students, parents, and school administrators
understand and appreciate traditional indigenous virtues and values.
Malcolm came to the project from the Hawai‘i State Department of
Education, and Lori was the editor for the Curriculum Research &
Development Group (CRDG) at the University of Hawai‘i, College
of Education. It was a partnership of necessity at first—as part of a
grant-funded project, neither had the opportunity to opt out of the
project or to choose someone else with whom to collaborate.
We faced several interesting challenges, beginning with the
facts that Lori had not worked with indigenous (Native Hawaiian)
materials, and American English is Malcolm’s second and learned
language. Others included the wide range of audiences to address,
the use of an indigenous language and sources, and ourselves—in
particular, the lack of any relationship upon which we could build. In
hindsight, if we were to attempt to do this project over again, it would
have been better to have established familiarity and background first.
We should have had a party and gotten to know each other better.
Collegial politeness and too much cultural sensitivity can blur what
should be the obvious presumptions of style and composition. We did
not realize how much our own cultural and academic backgrounds
would get in the way until we plunged into writing and editing.
Eventual we would discover that they did work together, sort of.
356  Appendix

Malcolm had completed manuscripts for three of the books while

working for the Department of Education, and when Lori began her
editing of them she had a multitude of questions. This began our
learning curve. Beyond the fine points of editing style, she discovered
that at times Malcolm’s style of composition left her wondering what
she had just read. She also had the issue of having to get up to speed on
a large body of research materials that she knew almost nothing about.
What Lori would discover about Malcolm is that beyond being
an educator who has taught courses on Hawaiian mythology,
literature, and religion, he has translated and published over a dozen
primary source books on Native Hawaiian culture. He was raised
by his elders in his own language and culture but was educated in
a highly formal Western system. Given the modern, and Western,
sensibilities of his education, we might expect that he would
communicate like the rest of us, and he does not, so we discovered.
His writing and thinking reflect his first language, which is
indigenous, and at times defies Western readership and editing. Lori,
for her part, came to the project with a grounding in the very specific
and conservative conventions of academic publishing, a system that
comes directly out of Western culture, and that is not, despite the
way it may be presented, neutral in its approach to telling a story.
The chapters in this book are peppered throughout with a
form of traditional story telling that, as a form of teaching and
communication of imagery, is both entertaining and insightful, but,
as we found, gets lost in the cultural translation. An example is this
discussion of the Hawaiian word mahalo, used today to mean thank
you. British comedienne Tracy Ullman once joked on her television
program that when she came to the islands she thought the word
mahalo meant garbage because it was on all the street trash bins. In
traditional literature mahalo is used to mean admire, but there was
no traditional virtue, and hence, no word for thank you. This ends up
as a nice story, but one for which Lori would demand a paragraph of
explanation, a demand that might or might not be complied with.
This is just one example of the many times when our two
approaches clashed. There were many discussions where one of us
had to explain the importance of what we were doing to the other.
It was interesting to watch the evolution of the process as each came
 No Nā Mamo  357

to know the other better and to understand why the work was put
together the way it was. We eventually came to a point were we could
predict some of the issues and understand each other’s point of view,
and where each of us could trust that when the other dug in his or
her heels on a point, that it was important and should be left as is.
But right to the end of this collaboration, there were instances of the
culture clash that we had to work to understand and overcome. In
other words, and this is not surprising when stated explicitly, both
of us remained grounded in our own cultural background and world
view and had to constantly keep in mind that ours was but one way
of looking at the world or of telling a story, and that not only were
there other views, but that these were just as legitimate as our own,
and often more appropriate. An interesting lesson that we learned is
that these differences were not always hurdles to be overcome. They
often came up in areas of process, where we each had to learn to give
a little, but they also came up in how we approached content, and in
these cases the combination of two approaches sometimes meant that
we uncovered new information.
Process-driven conflicts had been there from the beginning, and
some had taken more discussion to resolve than others. But the issue
came to a head when Malcolm finished his book on what he called
cultural management, that is, how Native Hawaiians planned and
worked with their resources and labor to complete tasks. In essence,
he saw it very differently from modern Western models that are
still being used for and by Native Hawaiians and, basically, failing.
Besides her unhappiness with the phrase “cultural management”
because it seemed to mean something different to her than what
Malcolm meant when he used it, Lori could not, as an editor,
accept that Malcolm had not cited some of the documents he used
to demonstrate the management incompetence in a large Native
Hawaiian organization. Things came to an impasse when Malcolm
absolutely refused to back down on the issue of citing the documents
he wanted to quote. He believed that, not only would citing those
sources be embarrassing to those who had been involved, the point
being made was a cultural, not an academic, one. As someone who
had been there, and was therefore telling the story from first-hand
recollection, he believed not only that the sources did not need to
358  Appendix

be named, but that doing so would be counter-productive to the

points being made. Lori delayed working on this book for more than
a year, still trying to figure out how to fix this dilemma so it would
be publishable. The “ah-ha” moment came for Lori at an advisory
council meeting attended by many Native Hawaiians from various
educational agencies and institutions. Several of them candidly
remarked that if young Native Hawaiians are not able to know and
to tell their own story in the current educational systems, then those
young people are being denied their history, culture, and identity.
She came away from that meeting understanding that if the story
could not be told by the storyteller in his context and style, then no
one would ever hear it or read it because of the external demands that
were stifling it. Cherokee storyteller and writer Thomas King reminds
us that in the end what exists today is all that we have got and all that
remains to let us know who we are.
The truth about stories is that that’s all we are. “I will
tell you something about stories,” the Laguna storyteller
Leslie Silko reminds us, “They aren’t just entertainment/
Don’t be fooled/ They are all we have, you see/All we
fight off/Illness and death. You don’t have anything/If
you don’t have the stories.” (King, T. 92)

First Nation Canadian writer Dale Turner articulates this

concept as well, commenting that “[i]ndigenous peoples have
their own philosophies, which they apply when articulating their
understandings of the world. Indigenous philosophies are rooted in
oral traditions, which generate explanations of the world expressed
in indigenous normative languages” (81–82). However, re-creating
and telling our story may be difficult when a non-indigenous
audience, who happens to serve in the role of gatekeeper to the
publishing process, does not comprehend the style of storytelling
that consists of indigenous philosophies embedded with cultural
detail. Little translation or explanation is given because, for an
indigenous audience, it is not needed. The problem arises when an
indigenous author finds that he must conform to a Western style
of expression by reshaping his work to meet all the conventions
of Western academic publishing in order to get his work out to
 No Nā Mamo  359

a broader audience. Turner found that out, noting that when

indigenous peoples use their own traditions in dialogue with the
dominant culture of Canada, they discovered only conflict and
frustration. In his conclusion on this dilemma he states, “I believe
that Aboriginal peoples must think more seriously about the
constraints that are unilaterally imposed on the language we must
use [. . .]. The fact that our ways of understanding the world are not
worthy of equal participation in a dialogue over the meaning and
content of our rights is itself a form of inequality” (Turner 26). By
providing translation and explanations he finds that indigenous
peoples “must use the normative language of the dominant culture
to ultimately defend world views that are embedded in a completely
differently normative framework.” The “dominant culture does not
face this hurdle. [. . .] Part of listening to Aboriginal peoples, and
thereby facilitating greater Aboriginal participation, must involve
overcoming this asymmetry.” (Turner 81–82)
A common result for those who work in a cross-cultural
collaboration, and who try to address the asymmetry Turner describes,
can be mutual frustration and misunderstanding. If all voices are to be
valued and heard, then we have to realize there are some irreconcilable
differences in style. If we ignore those differences and demand
compromise from native writers, we will lose those voices. Everyone
should be able to tell their story as they want to tell it.

Cooking 101: The Cook Books

Part of Malcolm’s style of storytelling has been to use an
innovative method of weaving together the academic disciplines of
history, anthropology, and indigenous studies. His innovation is
being able to incorporate historical accounts and academic analysis
with cultural experience and world-view. Traditional storytelling can
be inventive more than revisionist, so he uses primary indigenous
sources in the original language as well as Western eyewitness
accounts from the journals of explorers and adventurers to confirm
patterns of culture or to contradict them. With the digitization of
sources that were once rare and isolated, researchers now have great
access to very early primary materials that were once the domain
of the lucky few, and Malcolm has been able to utilize them in his
360  Appendix

storytelling so that the reader can understand that he is only the

storyteller and not the story inventor. In following this methodology
we are able to pattern ourselves in the tradition of academia by
providing citations and references that can be cross-checked and
referenced while still telling the story in a way that speaks to an
indigenous audience.
Of course, the earliest published eyewitness account of Native
Hawaiian culture comes from the journal of Captain James Cook, an
account that was cut short when he was killed after his great welcome
at Kealakekua Bay on the island of Hawai‘i. What few realize is that
this was not his initial welcome to the islands. His first encounter,
less well-known, was with a group of fishermen off the islands of
Ni‘ihau and Kaua‘i. Malcolm had been reading a version of the
journal posted on a University of Wisconsin web site but found that
only one of the two chapters that dealt with this first visit to Hawai‘i
was posted. He found another website, this time from a Canadian
national archives site, that did include a description of the first
encounter, a scene he wanted to describe because it illustrated that
the natives were more interested in trading with the foreigners than
in fighting and that they did not view them as gods. At this point, he
had material from Cook’s journal posted at two different web sites,
one (the second one he had tried) that included the full journal, and
one that included only excerpts. Great, except when Lori began to
double-check the references she found that the quotations from the
two sites often were not the same. Consider this account of Cook’s
first encounter with Native Hawaiians from what turned out to be
two different printings of “Cook’s journal.”
At this time, we were in some doubt whether or no the
land before us was inhabited; but this doubt was soon
cleared up, by seeing some canoes coming off from the
shore, toward the ship. I immediately brought to, to
give them time to join us. They had from three to six
men each; and, on their approach, we were agreeably
surprised to find, that they spoke the language of
Otaheite, and of the other islands we had lately visited. It
required very little address, to get them to come along-
side; but no intreaties could prevail upon any of them to
 No Nā Mamo  361

come on board. I tied some brass medals to a rope, and

gave them to those in one of the canoes, who, in return,
tied some small mackerel to the rope, as an equivalent.
This was repeated; and some small nails, or bits of iron,
which they valued more than any other article, were
given them. For these they exchanged more fish, and
a sweet potatoe; a sure sign that they had some notion
of bartering; or, at least, of returning one present for
another. They had nothing else in their canoes, except
some large gourd shells, and a kind of fishing-net; but
one of them offered for sale the piece of stuff that he
wore round his waist, after the manner of the other
islands. (Cook 191–192)

As we made a nearer approach, many of the inhabitants

put off from the shore in their canoes. We were agreeably
surprised to find, that they spoke a dialect of the
Otaheitean language. They could not be prevailed upon
by any entreaties to come on board. Captain Cook tied
some brass medals to a rope, which he gave to those who
were in one of the canoes; and they, in return, fastened
some mackarel to the rope, by way of equivalent. This
was repeated; and some small nails, or pieces of iron,
were given them; for which they gave in exchange some
more fish, and a sweet potatoe; a sure indication of their
having some notion of bartering, or, at least, of returning
one present for another. One of them even offered for
sale the piece of stuff which he wore about his waist.
(Cook and King 129–130)

Both are nominally Cook’s journal, but one was written in the
first person by Cook and the other in the first person seemingly by
someone else, since Captain Cook is referred to in the third person.
Closer inspection found that there were other differences as well.
After doing some research of her own Lori discovered that there
are various versions of “Cook’s journal.” Some were authorized by
the British Admiralty, while others appear to be done by renegade
printers cashing in on the market demand. We also found that
the first edition of the “official version” has a fairly egregious
362  Appendix

typographical error in the very short section that covers Cook’s first
visit to Hawai‘i, a situation that caused a great deal of confusion for
us, and that appears to be responsible for the second edition being
done by a different printer. Since these are rare books, authorized
or not, researchers in their own home town libraries may have
historically had access to only one version, which, without the wider
access created by the Internet, each considered to be a copy of the
single source. What we found, through following Malcolm’s research
method combined with Lori’s editorial process, is that there are
stories out there about the sources in this field yet to be discovered—
another project for another paper. In the end we compared the
texts and decided to use a version found on the web site of the
Royal Library in Copenhagen. We chose this version because it
was published “by order of the admiralty,” it contained both of
the chapters that discussed Cook’s initial stop in Hawai‘i, and the
typographical error found in the first edition was corrected.
We were both fascinated with this discovery, and spent quite
a bit of time off on this tangent before we felt like we had a clear
enough picture of what we were dealing with that we could make a
decision about how to move forward. But, having finally made this
decision, Malcolm was able to use the authorized journal of Captain
Cook to tell stories that, even after two hundred years of scholarly
examination, still offer insights into Native Hawaiian culture that
can be found nowhere else. Malcolm has noted that when Cook did
a walkabout on the island of Ni‘ihau, he commented, “The ground,
through which I passed, was in a state of nature, very stony, and the
soil seemed poor. It was, however, covered with shrubs and plants,
some of which perfumed the air, with a more delicious fragrancy
than I had met with at any other of the islands visited by us in this
ocean” (Cook 218). We have yet to find a botanical identification
to that plant. And during that same walkabout Cook encountered a
woman who performed a ritual about him that scholars have noted
but have not given any analysis or commentary of.
While the people were engaged in filling four water
casks, from a small stream occasioned by the late rain, I
walked a little way up the country, attended by the man
above-mentioned, and followed by two others carrying
 No Nā Mamo  363

the two pigs. As soon as we got upon a rising ground, I

stopped to look round me; and observed a woman, on the
opposite side of the valley where I landed, calling to her
countrymen who attended me. Upon this, the Chief began
to mutter something which I supposed was a prayer; and
the two men, who carried the pigs, continued to walk
round me all the time, making, at least, a dozen circuits
before the other had finished his oraison. This ceremony
being performed, we proceeded; [. . .] (Cook 217)

Why did she walk around Cook twelve or more times? There
is nothing in later Native Hawaiian sources that would describe or
explain what this ritual was, and scholars have remained silent on the
subject.
After Cook’s arrival at Kealakekua Bay in 1779 his journal ends,
and we have to rely on the accounts of his crew, and in particular that
of his successor, Captain James King. His writing is just as insightful as
his predecessor, and in two very minute passages he describes native
ornaments, examples of most of which can be found in collections of
Hawaiian artifacts. However, there is one description that doesn’t seem
to match anything we’ve seen in existing collections.
Instead of this ornament, some of them wear, on their
breast, a small human figure, made of bone, suspended in
the same manner. (King, J. 135)

And sometimes, a small human image of bone, about

three inches long, neatly polished, is hung round the neck.
(Cook 232)

There exist two small pendants, one at the Peabody Essex

Museum in Salem, Massachusetts and the other at the Metropolitan
Museum of Art in New York City, with similar form, although not
made of the same material. Malcolm wrote more about these items in
his doctoral thesis and noted that neither of these institutions has, to
this day, recognized their similarity to King’s descriptions.
The voyage also preserved, although in limited numbers, other
rare descriptions of the islands, people, and culture through the
artistry of John Webber.
364  Appendix

I Know It When I See It

Storytelling can give vivid descriptions to the human imagination
but a picture, as the old Chinese proverb goes, is worth a thousand
words, and the vivid images rendered by Webber are the first visual
record of the islands and the people who lived there. Most of what
we have seen published, going back to the original publication of
the account of the journey in the eighteenth century, have been
engravings etched onto plates and sometimes colorized by hand. In
research terms, that is secondary information because the engravings
have been, perhaps as carefully as possible, rendered from the
original hand-drawn and painted works by someone who hadn’t
been there on site to see the images first hand. Malcolm made trips
to the repositories that have the original Webber drawings and, with
the exception of the Bishop Museum where he was only allowed
to see photocopies of what they had, was able to see the original
drawings and paintings in person. He went to London to the British
Library and the British Museum Archives and then to Sydney to the
State Library of New South Wales’s Dixson Library. There he was
able to see what Webber had actually drawn and painted. He could
see details that engravers either could not replicate, excluded, or
invented, and he could see the colors that Webber used, which could
not be duplicated in black and white engravings.
Webber’s drawing of the reception that Cook received when
the ships returned from the northwest of America (Alaska and
Canada) is one of his most famous images. There seemed to be two
originals of this painting, one in the Bishop Museum that is tinted
a yellow-orange hue due to an overcoat of varnish, and another in
vivid and clear color at the Dixson Library. Why would Webber do
two originals of the same scene? Careful examination revealed that
he didn’t. He made two paintings of the same event but at different
moments. A comparison of the two shows that several people in
the main canoe have shifted positions. And we believe that we can
now identify the facial features of the paramount chief of the island,
Kalani‘ōpu‘u. If this is true, this would be the only contemporary
image that exists of him.
Another famous drawing of Webber’s is the early scene of the
British gathering with Hawaiians in 1778 at Waimea Bay on the
 No Nā Mamo  365

island of Kaua‘i. It may actually be a composite of several pencil

drawings that Webber had done to illustrate their encounter
while the British explored the area. In the original, with computer
enhancement of digitized photos, we can see details like the colors
of a chief ’s feather cloak and helmet or a native holding on to his
duck or chicken he may have been trading with one of the crew. We
can even see the pond or inlet where the British went to collect fresh
water in the central background because it is a light bluish tint in the
original.
The most revealing of the drawings for contemporary
Native Hawaiians will be the discovery found in the drawing of
the now iconic gourd mask. There are no explanations of who the
people were or what they were doing when Webber depicted them
in a canoe wearing these helmets or mask. None of the masks were
collected and none survive in any collection today. Contemporary
Native Hawaiians have replicated them to wear at cultural and
political events as a symbol of indigenous identity and often include
the bark cloth strips hanging from the bottom of the helmet/masks,
but they kept them white like the black and white engravings depict
them. However, in Webber’s original drawing at the British Library
Malcolm saw the strips in alternating light colors of faded red or pink
and yellow that an engraver could not replicate.

What Did We Learn?

We still agree to disagree and find points that may require
clarification; that is nature of collaboration. We both realize that
our continual efforts to come to a resolution have been beneficial to
readers, judging from their reviews and comments. We recognize
how important the material is to the indigenous population today,
especially because it provides access through the citations to rare
and out of print materials that most readers would not discover
on their own. But, in particular, we appreciate how important it
is to have made an indigenous, culturally based perspective on
Hawaiian virtues and values available. We know the results can be
transformative.
As the cultural specialist for this project, working with Lori has
made Malcolm very aware of who the target audience can be and of
366  Appendix

how to tell a story to a wider audience. From Lori’s perspective as

the editor working with an indigenous writer, the process has made
her aware that her training in Western conventions of publishing,
presented implicitly as “the” way things are done, is really merely
one way things can be done, albeit a very entrenched and dominant
way. As the managing editor responsible for maintaining quality
control, which, in this case, meant producing a product that met all
the conventions typically associated with academic publishing, one
of the biggest and most profound lessons she learned is that allowing
the work to follow a different framework didn’t necessarily mean
throwing out all the rules, and it didn’t mean producing a product
that was not worthy of the standards established by the University
of Hawai‘i. She finally, after years working on this project, came to
understand the asymmetry Turner described, whereby an indigenous
writer has to contort his story to fit into the constraints laid down by
the dominant culture, and to understand that all it took to change
that was one person agreeing to do things differently.
Our disagreements and misunderstandings have also brought
better research, clarity of thinking, and explanation of many aspects
of Native Hawaiian culture that were either taken for granted or not
even considered before. And, most important to Malcolm has been
the articulation of knowing, and being able to spell out in words,
our manner of communicating, teaching, and thinking through
storytelling. It is the validation of our oral traditions in the mass
media and means it is possible that we can continue to tell our
stories in the manner we are accustomed to in a medium that was
so forbidding and foreign. Having said that, there are still moments
when he retorts, “Oh, do what you want!” so we can get the material
published.
 No Nā Mamo  367

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 No Nā Mamo  377

Index

Abercrombie, Neil: use of pono as 217–218, 224, 225; comments

candidate for governor (2010), 354 about leadership among
adoption, 29, 30 Hawaiians by Buck, 349
‘aha‘aina ‘communal or family feast,’ Alakihu, Keliihue, informant, 7
24, 269 Alapa‘i (or ‘Alapainui or
Aholo (or ‘Aholo), Lydia: hānai ‘Alapa‘inuiaKauaua): in battle
to Queen Liliuokalani, at NāoneaLa‘a, Kāneohe, O‘ahu,
14; description of Queen 149–150
disembarking from ship with ali‘i: relationship with maka‘āinana,
greetings, 14 199; rank and relationship, 253–
‘Ahuena heiau, Kailua–Kona, Hawai‘i: 254; despotic chiefs, 254; counsel
color plate 36 with, 210–211, 256–257
‘ahu‘ula ‘cape,’ color plate 2, color plate aloha: dictionary definition, 15;
14, color plate 15 traditional usage, 18–22; crying as
aikāne, 299–304; described by Malo, expression of, 22; list of traditional
301; described by Samwell, 302 forms and expressions of 26–27;
‘ai kapu ‘prohibition of men and use by Kamakau, 23–28; story
women to eat together,’ 133; of Hoamakeikekula, 18; used
description by Golovin (1818) as a compliment, 30; influence
134; exceptions observed, 134; of Christianity on, 33; use in
Malo’s list of restricted foods, 290, Mormon service, 39; sermon
293 on traditional and Christian
‘ai lani makua ‘sacred plants listed in meanings, 40–42
the Kumulipo,’ 291 Aloha ‘oe ‘song composed by
‘Aipua‘a, battle of (1823), 306 Lili‘uokalani:’ explanation of
‘ĀkahiaKuleana: lover of Līloa and meaning by Helena Allen, 44
mother of ‘Umi, 320, 322 alo-o-oha: designated a haole word by
Akaka, the Rev. Abraham: minister of Lili‘uokalani, 14
Kawaiaha‘o Church, 40; sermon ‘anā‘anā ‘sorcery,’ 95
on statehood, 40–42 ‘Anaeho‘omalu, Hawai‘i: death of
Akana, the Rev. Akaiko: first Native Kamai‘ole at, 204
Hawaiian minister of Kawaiaha‘o Andaman & Nichobar Islands, peoples
Church, 40 of, 343
akua hulumanu, color plate 13, color a‘o, terms used for traditional methods:
plate 17, color plate 20 nānā or ‘ike, 85; paa ka waha, 87;
akua loa ‘makahiki god,’ 65–66 hana ka lima, 86; nīnau, 86; See
akua poko ‘makahiki god,’ 65–66 also education; learning
alaka‘i: qualities of traditional ‘Aukelenuiaikū: story of, 19–21;
leadership, 209, 211; Malo’s Beckwith’s summation of story,
summation of good leadership 19; excerpt from story, 59, 296
378  Index

‘aumakua ‘family guardians:’ manō Bloxam, Andrew, color plate 47

‘shark,’ 179; mo‘o ‘lizard,’ Boki, Kama‘ule‘ule: gathering of
179–180; volcano or Pele, 179, traditional healers on O‘ahu, 117
180; pueo ‘owl,’ 179; example of Book of Common Prayer, 42
manō, 182; description of Pele by boxing match at Makahiki, color plate 22
Kamakau, 183; description of owl breadfruit ‘ ‘ulu:’ trading, 53; in
by Kamakau, 183–184; elements traditional diet, 130; comments
of, 184; recent controversies by Vasili Nikolaevich Berkh of the
over manō, 185–186; analysis of Nadezhda (1804), 132–133
practice, 190–191 Brown, Kenneth, 82
Auwae, Henry Papa and Sabrina Brokenleg, Martin, 1–2, 313, 351
Mahelona, 141 Buck, Sir Peter (also known by his
‘Auwae, Noa(h): court genealogist and Māori name Te Rangi Hiroa), 70,
teacher of Davida Malo, 37 227, 228, 230–231, 349
‘awa: modern day use and abuse of,
120–121, 123–124; traditional
preparation of, 121; Tongan Campbell, Abigail Kamoku, 349
meaning of by HM Queen Sālote, Castro, Mrs. Pelelia, 80
122; brought to Ololo-i-mehani by Chamberlain (American missionary),
Lono, 122; brought to Hawai‘i by 31
Kane and Kanaloa, 122; described Christianity: influence on use of aloha,
by Kamakau 122–123; traditional 34
abuse of, 124; abuse noted by Cook, Clerke, Captain, 53
124–125; Kahekili’s abuse of, 126; clowns, 314–315
types of food eaten with, 126 conch shell ‘pū:’ used as a signal of
Awāwamalu, O‘ahu: ho‘okupu in honor canoe’s approach, 52; name of
of Kamehameha by Kahekili, 81 (Kīhapu), 52
Cook, Captain James: trade with
Hawaiians, 52; welcomed by
Beals, William, 31 Kalani‘ōpu‘u, 63–64; incident
Beckwith, Martha Warren: romance on Ni‘ihau, 65 (see also haihaia);
literary traditions, 17; romance initial contact with Hawaiians,
tradition of Hoamakeikekula, 282–283; multiple first editions of
17–18; summation of story of journal, 360–363
‘Aukelenuiaikū, 18, 317 crimes, violent, described by the Rev.
Bennett, the Rev. George, 105 William Ellis, 159
belonging, 2–3 crying: as expression of aloha, 22
Berger, Henri, 45
Bingham, Hiram, 27, 57
birds: ‘ākepa, color plate 23; akialoa, Deloria, Jr., Vine: description of
color plate 24; ‘amakihi, color indigenous hospitality, 70
plate 25; ‘apapane, color plate 27; diarrhea, 117
‘i‘iwi, color plate 28; mamo, color Dibble, the Rev. Sheldon, 106
plate 26; ‘ō‘ō, color plate 29 diet: traditional diet described by Dr.
Blaisdell, Dr. Kekuni, 130, 135 Kekuni Blaisdell, 130; described
blessings: pī kai or pī wai for house by Captain James King, 131;
blessings, 191–192; description by described by Captain Iurii F.
Kamakau and Malo, 192–193 Lisianakii of the Neva (1804),
 No Nā Mamo  379

131–132; described by Archibald Fish workshop video, 269

Campbell, 132; new cooking fishes: a‘u ‘swordfish’ proverb used
methods of boiling and frying, in speech, 157, 267–268; kala,
135; alcohol consumption, 135; color plate 31; laenihi, color plate
comparison of traditional and 30; lauwiliwili, color plate 33;
modern diets, 135 saddleback butterfly fish, color
disapproval: examples of, 8 plate 32
HMS Discovery (under Captain James Fornander, Abraham, 17
King), 115
drums ‘pahu:’ used as signals of
Gaelic (ship), 44
approaching canoe, 52; names
gender roles, 292–299
of (Kaiuli, Kukona, ‘Oma‘o, and
generosity, 4–5
‘Owela), 52, 61
gifts: traditional given to visitors, 53, 63;
Durie, the Hon. Edward (Eddie):
given to captains of visiting ships,
Aoreatoa Māori proverb, 84
53; to Captain Clerke, 53
Golovin, Captain Vasilli Mikahailovich
of the Kamchatka: welcomed by
education: state of education,
Kamehameha, 68, 116, 134; report
102; localized schools and
on Kamehameha, 216–217; trade
methodologies described by
with Hawaiians, 285–286
Kamakau, 106–107; drawing of
gourd: used for teaching astronomy
schoolhouse at KawaiaHa‘o, 107;
and navigation, 93
description of students’ engraving
gourd masks, color plate 19, color plate
and printing, 111; Kamakau’s
20
education, 111; education system
government of learning, 102–103, 106
in 1823, 112; description of
greetings: Hawaiian use of Western
elements of success in teaching,
forms, 28; Kamakau’s list of
113; methods used to train young
expression of, 61; list of common
chiefs, 209
elements of, 69; welcome of Māori
‘Ehunuikaimalino, 200, 204
by Hawaiians at Bishop Museum
Eight Northern Indian Pueblos
(1985), 70–73; kāhea, 74; heahea,
Council, 314
74; example of welcome chant, 74;
Eleio, 59
traditional hula chant of welcome
Ellis, William (British missionary);
from Kaua‘i, 75; influence of hula
description of village welcome,
on, 75; traditions of Hale Nauā, 75;
38, 55–56; description of
uwe, 76; lei used in greetings, 78;
hospitality, 5; as consultant on
role of children, 79–80
alphabet, 105; as informant on
guilt, 156, 157, 335, 337, 340
retaliation, 159; distinguishing
between kapu and lāhui, 173, 180,
259–260; description of pī kai, 192, Ha‘alo‘u, 225
description of imu, 270; description haihaia (or haihaiā): example of on
of Hawaiians’ dress, 304 Ni‘ihau, 65; definition of, 67;
Ellis, William (surgeon with Cook’s Kamakau’s description of, 67–68
voyage), 89 Hakau (or Hākau), 100, 200, 201–202:
Emma, HM the Queen, 223 description of 323–324
enculturation, 40 hala: description of, 335–336
experimentation, 93–95 Halaea (or Hala‘ea), 7, 200, 203
380  Index

Hālawa, Moloka‘i, 264, 265, color plate ho‘oipoipo: dictionary definition, 22;
49, color plate 50 used as term for sex, 23, 24
hale, color plate 5 ho‘opa‘apa‘a: Beckwith’s description
hale mana: with gods for women, color of, 245; examples and analysis of,
plate 8 246–247
hale mua ‘men’s house,’ 291 ho‘oponopono: description of, 13; term
hana aloha: as modern term for sex, 23 used for diagnosis and treatment of
Hanaaumoe, 50 sick, 129; dictionary definition, 146;
Hannemann, Mufi: use of pono as modern concepts about, 148–149;
candidate for governor (2010), 354 pre-contact example at the battle
hewa, 207; Malo’s description of of NāoneaLa‘a, 149; custom of
324–326; examples of, 326; calling on mediator during family
gestures of bowed head in silence feuds, 151; analysis of the battle
as expressions of, 327, 332, 336; of NāoneaLa‘a, 151–152; example
guilt and shame described by in battle of Kakanilua, 152–154;
Ernest Kurtz, 340–341; acts of in ‘Ī‘ī’s version of the battle of
vengeance by chiefs as expressions Kakanilua, 154; analysis of the
of, 341–342 battle of Kakanilua, 154; analysis
hewahewa, 178 of feud between Kamehameha
Hi‘iaka(or Hi‘iakaikapolioPele), 49, 75 and Kalani‘ōpu‘u, 155–156;
Hinau, 206 example in Pahikaua war, 156–157;
Hiroa, Te Rangi, See Buck, Sir Peter analysis of Pahikaua war, 157–158;
Hoamakeikekula, 18 elements found in traditional and
Hoapili, 106 historical examples, 158–159;
hō‘ike exhibitions and examinations; family use of in Ka‘ū, 160–161;
description of, 108–110 terms used in process, 161–162;
honi ihu, 32, 68, 77–78 analogy to net-making, 163–164;
Honolulu village and harbor, color family conferencing in Aotearoa
plate 40 (New Zealand), 165–166; use of
Ho‘ohokukalani (or Ho‘ohōkūkalani), forgiveness, 341
172, 290 Horner, Mary, 198
ho‘okipa, 30; proverbs related to, hospitality, 60, 69, 73–74, 79; in
49–50, 73–74 traditional society, 51–58; in
ho‘okupu, 80–83; by Kahekili native cultures, 70; compared to
Ke‘eaumoku to Kamehameha that of Tahitians and Sāmoans, 83
(1808), 81 hū: word used in relation to aloha, 25
ho‘ōla: methods of, 128–129 hukilau, 267–268
Hoolaemakua (or Ho‘olaemakua), 25 hula: training for, 96; graduation
ho‘omana: described by Malo 168–169; ceremony (‘ūniki), 96
dictionary definition, 169; analysis
of Malo’s description, 170
ho‘onohonoho: defined as cultural idolatry: reported by Loomis, 31
management, 252; examples ifoga ‘humbling,’ 334
of three Native Hawaiian ‘Ī‘ī, John Papa: description of leaving
organizations’ attempts at, 275– parents, 76; education of, 85;
279; common elements, 280–281; tested for life at royal court,
trade, barter and money economy, 96–98; refusal to work contrary
287–288 to chief’s orders, 254; comments
 No Nā Mamo  381

on Kalaniakua’s suicide, 334–335, kahuna: training of, 88; definition of,

color plate 42 167; skill in prayer, 171
‘ike, 3, 85, 351 kahuna ‘anā‘anā kuni, 67, 147, 338;
ikipuahola: ahulau or epidemic of description of roles, 338–339
during reign of chief Waia, 116 kahuna hāhā, 95
imu: description of by Captain Iurii Kaiama, 66
F. Lisianakii of the Neva (1804), Kaikilanikohepani‘o, 329
131–132; description by the Rev. Kaikio‘ewa, 333
William Ellis, 304 Kaimihau, 254
independence, 4 Ka‘ina, 56
influenza, 117 Kakanilua: battle of, 58, 60
Iwikauikaua, 306 kākā‘ōlelo: definition of, 228; role
described by Kamakau, 233–234;
description of role by Captain
Judd, Laura: Hawaiian word list Charles Wilkes (1840), 235;
with English equivalents, 16; influence of whaikōrero, 250–251
commenting on memorization Kakohe, 324
abilities of Hawaiians, 86–87 kala: dictionary definitions of, 336
kalahala: traditional word for
forgiveness, 148; dictionary
Ka‘ahumanu, 177, 308, 333, color definition of, 336; rite of
plate 37; description of family forgiveness, 338
relationships and responsibilities, Kalaimamalu, 155
5, 39; greeting to missionaries, kālaimoku: role described by Malo, 233
32–33; death of favorite Kalākaua, King: establishment of
Kanihonui, 221; declaration of Hawaiian Board of Health, 120
regency, 249; last words, 249–250; Kalakua: abuse by Kamehameha,
with Tahitian teacher Auna, color 220–221
plate 38; with limed hairline, color Kalama, the Rev. Mealii (or Meali‘i),
plate 39 352
Ka‘awaloa, Hawai‘i, 63, color plate 9, Kalaniakua: suicide of, 334–335
color plate 10 Kalanikūpule, 211
Ka‘eleoWaipi‘o, composer of early Kalanimālokulokuikepo‘okalani (also
Hawaiian Christian prayer, 39–40 known as Keali‘imakai) occupier
Kahahana (guard to Ke‘eaumoku), 247 of Hāna, Maui, 212; building of
Kahahana (ruling chief of O‘ahu), Pu‘ukoholā heiau, 264
208–209, 248, 296 Kalanimoku, 254, 255; welcoming
KahalaoPuna, 330–331 missionaries, 30, 31; trained in
Kaheiheimālie Kīna‘u (also known as traditional healing, 117;
Kaho‘anoku Kina‘u), 156–157, Kalani‘ōpu‘u paramount chief of
309 island of Hawai‘i, 58, 63; physical
Kahekili: 58, 296; welcoming Portlock description of, 63; welcoming
at Maunalua, O‘ahu (1786), Cook, 63–64; battle with Kahekili,
64–65; use of ho‘oponopono, 152–154; uncle of Kamehameha,
152–154 155; formal welcome party for
Kahikoluamea, 51 Cook, color plate 12; holding
Kahookamoku, 50 kāhili, color plate 14
Kahuhu, James, 34 Kalaoa, Hilo, Hawai‘i, 49
382  Index

Kalapana: heir to Kanipahu, 204 heiau, 264; has aikāne, 303;

Kalaunuiohua (or Kalaunui‘ōhua), 213 relationship with wives, 309
Kalaupapa, Moloka‘i, 48, 49, 268 Kamehameha II (also known as
Kaleioku (or Kaōleiokū or KaōleioKū, Liholiho): visit to Hiram Bingham
also known as Pauli), 24, 155 (1823), 27; examples of pono, 8,
Kaliliko‘okalaua‘e, 317 31; letter to Captain Clasby, 33;
Kalola, 58, 153 welcomed by Kaumuali‘i, 54;
Kaluhiokalani: as informant, 9 training by Kamehameha, 201;
Kama, 116 choice to follow father or to rebel,
Kamai‘ole, 200, 204 8, 208; parents as source of his
Kamakini (misspelled as Kamakinki knowledge, 344
in Kamakau, Ruling Chiefs): Kamehameha III: proclaims a Kingdom
murdered by husband, 331–332 of learning (1824), 103; speech at
Kamakau, Samuel Manaiakalani: his Kawaiaha‘o Church on restoration
own education, 111, color plate of kingdom, 241–242
44 Kamehameha IV: soliciting funds to
Kamalālāwalu, 51, 205 build a hospital, 223
Kamamalū, 309 kānāwai ‘law:’ Māmalahoa (or
Kamanawa, 153, 331–332, 333 Māmalahoe), 9, 50, 222; Nīaupio
Kamapua‘a, 57–58 Kolowalu, 50
Kame‘eiamoku, 153 Kane (or Kāne), Herb Kawainui, 195
Kamehameha (also known as Kaneikapolei, 63, 155
Kalaninuimehameha[ikekapu] Kanepohihi: dialogue with Kila, 60
or Pa‘iea) disapproval by, 8; as Kanihonui: death of his nephew by
pono, 8–9; virtues described by Kamehameha, 221
Kamakau, 10; story of planting Kanikaniaula: encounter with Eleio, 59
kalo, 11; kānāwai mamala hoe, 9, Kanipahu, 204
50, 222; two widows of, 30; story Kanuha, 333
of old man and ‘awa drinking, Kaoo (or Ka‘ō‘ō or Kau‘u), 63
10–11, 126, 215; battle against Ka‘opulupulu, 207, 226
Ka‘eleoWaipi‘o, 39; welcoming kapa: producing designs similarity to
Kotzebue, 68; welcoming Golovin, writing, 103; process for making
68; teaching remembrance of described by Captain King, 104;
previous chiefs, 100; meeting hamo‘ula (or kua‘ula) produced
with Kaumuali‘i (1810), 100–101; by men, 297–299; trading, color
diet described by Archibald plate 4
Campbell, 133; upsetting Kapa‘ihiahilina (or Kapa‘ihi):
Kalani‘ōpu‘u, 155; training of retainer and companion of
Liholiho, 201; remembers story Lonoikamakahiki, 26, 329–330
of Kalaunui‘ōhua, 213; aiding an Kapoukahi, 225
old man with heavy load, 216; kapu: separation of Wākea and Papa,
warrior claims relationship to, 216; 173–175; elements of, 175–176;
report on by Golovin, 216–217; described in Kumulipo, 176;
Kamakau’s account of his birth, called ‘ai lani makua, 291;
218; Naha stone, 219; idolization abolished in 1819, 176; account
of, 220; abuse of wife Kalakua, by Hewahewa, 178; three
220–221; admiration for progress, classifications of, 179; recent
223, 255; building of Pu‘ukoholā controversies over cultural
 No Nā Mamo  383

classification of objects as sacred, Keaukaha Elementary School, 350;

195; ghost at Kona Lagoon Hotel, school children with Got Pono?
196; prohibitions described by T–shirts, color plate 51
Malo, 256; on ‘ōpelu and aku, Keawemauhili, 155
257; on fish described by Malo, Keawenuia’Umi, 328
258–259; upon fishing today, 261; Ke‘eaumoku (father of Ka‘ahumanu),
possible reason for abolishment, 309
310–311 Ke‘eaumoku Kahekili: tribute to
kapu as gender roles, 289, 292–294; Kamehameha (1808), 81
roles of women, 292–294; roles Kekau‘onohi, Keahikuni: at Pohukaina,
of men, 294; priestess on Ni‘ihau, Honolulu, O‘ahu, 156–157; act of
294; women produce kapa, shame, 334
296–297; men produce a particular Kekela, the Rev. James: comparison
type of kapa, 297–299; post of Hawaiian hospitality to that of
contact roles, 304–305; woman Pacific Islanders, 83
warriors, 306 Kekūhaupi‘o: wrestling sharks, 99–100
kapu moe ‘prostration taboo,’ 53 Keōpūlani, 177, 309
Kauhi, 330–331 Kepelino, Zepherin Kahōāli‘i, 148, 339
KauhiaKama, 206 KihaaPi‘ilani: chief of Maui, 25;
Kaumuali‘i, George: welcoming excerpt from story of, 60;
missionaries, 27, 29; welcoming adversity in his youth, 209; story
Liholiho, 32–33, 54; expression of, 326–327
of his aloha, 33; meeting with Ki‘ikiki , 62
Kamehameha (1810), 100–101; Kila: dialogue with Kanepohihi, 60
conversation about literacy, Kina‘u, Kaho‘anoku (See Kaheiheimālie
104–110, 213 Kina‘u)
Kaupō, Maui, 59 Kīna‘uwahine, 309
Kauwahi, J. W. H.: excerpt of speech, King, Captain James: description
119 of Kalaniōpu‘u’s ceremonial
Kauwahine, 296 welcome, 63–64; description
KawaiaHa‘o schoolhouse: drawing of, of honi ihu, 78; description
107 of kapa making, 104; lack of
Kawananakoa, David (or disease among Hawaiians, 115;
Kawānanakoa), 44 description of drinking ‘awa, 121,
KeahuoLū, Hawai‘i, 200, 204; 124; intervening to stop abuse of
petroglyph of male with headdress, ‘awa, 125; description of Palea, 300;
color plate 48; description of incident at Makahiki
‘Ehunuikaimalino, 204 games, 337–338, description of
Keakaarona: Webber portrait, color ornamental necklace, 364
plate 21 King, Thomas, 355
Keakamahana, 100, 206, 306, 307 Kinolau, Luka: interview with Clinton
Keākealanikāne, 205, 206, 306–308 Kanahele on counter-sorcery,
Keākealaniwahine, 100, 206–207, 66–67
306–309 Kinopu: story of 8, 255, 332–333
Kealakekua, Hawai‘i, 63, color plate 11 Kīwalaō, 61, 153
Keale, Sr., Moses K., 73, 314; photo of, Koa‘a, 300–301
78, 315 Kohaikalani (or Kōha‘ikalani), 203
Keali‘iokalani, 306, 328 Kohala, 200, 204
384  Index

Koihala (or Ko‘ihalalani), 100, 193, 200, Liholiho. See Kamehameha II

201–202, 254 Like, Bessie, 352
Koleamoku, 24 Liliha, Kuini: at Pohukaina, Honolulu,
komo: word used in relation to aloha, O‘ahu, 156–157, 334–335
21–22 Lili‘uokalani, H.M. Queen, 14, 42, 44,
Komoawa (or Komo‘awa), 172, 290 45
Kona Lagoon Hotel, Hawai‘i, 196 Līloa, 24, 201, 320, 322, 324; last words
koshare ‘clown,’ 314 to ‘Umi, 250; aikāne and punahele,
Kotzebue, Captain Otto von: welcomed 301
by Kamehameha, 68 Lisianskii, Captain, 28; trade with
Kuakini, Adam, 37 Hawaiians, 284
Kualii (or Kūali‘i), 50 listening, 86–87
Kūa‘ua‘u, 116, 119 literacy, 102–103
kuealana, 347 lo‘i kalo: description of, 266–267, color
Kūkona, 212–213 plate 50
Kukuihā‘ele, Hawai‘i, 90 LonoaPiilani (or LonoaPi‘ilani), 327
Kuleanakapoko, 321 Lonoikamakahiki (chief of Hawai‘i), 51,
Kulepe (or Kūlepe): story of, 48 201, 205, 328–329, 336–337
kupua, 315: described by Beckwith, Lonoikamakahiki (god of Makahiki
315–316 festival), 52
Kūpulupulu, 62 Loomis (American missionary), 31
Kuwahine, 33 lū‘au: description of family preparation,
270–274
Luomala, Katherine, 317
lahui: described by the Rev. William Lyman, Richard “Papa,” 196, 343
Ellis, 259–261
Lake, Maiki Aiu, 347
Lakota, 2 mahiole ‘feather helmet,’ color plate 2,
Lange, the Hon. David, prime color plate 14, color plate 16
minister of New Zealand, color ma‘i ‘sickness:’ five forms of, 127–128;
plate, 45 traditional concepts of, 147
lanihonua ‘pebble chart:’ used for maka‘āinana: relationship with ali‘i, 7,
teaching astronomy, 92 199–201, 217; diet of, 130, 269; as
Lanikūhonua, ‘Ewa, O‘ahu, 349 body of kingdom, 253
La Pérouse, Captain: trade with Makahā, Ka‘ū, Hawai‘i, color plate 41
Hawaiians, 283 Makahiki: description of circuit of
lāuga ‘Samoan oratory:’ descriptions gods, 66; Samwell’s description of,
of 237, 244; use of gestures and 303–304, color plate 22
props, 248 makuakāne kōlea (or makua kōlea):
laulima: in preparation of feasts, 269; term for stepfather 316–317, 322
defined and described, 263; malo: kī leaf used by Līloa, 321
building of Pu‘ukoholā heiau, 264 Malo, Davida: on hewa, 5–7; on pono,
le‘ale‘a: used as a term for sexual 7; description education of youth
pleasure, 23 for leadership, 98–99; description
learning: traditional way of, 3; training of “those who had no god,” 172,
of medical kāhuna, 3–4 color plate 43
lei: used in greetings, 38, 55, 78–79 mamalahoe, 9, 50, 222
leprosy, 117 management, culturally based, 252
 No Nā Mamo  385

management of labor, 263–268 Namaka (or Nāmaka), 234, 245–246

management of natural resources, NāmakaoKaha‘i, 19, 296; affection for
257–263 pet dog, 20
Maninini heiau, 321 Nānāwale, Puna, Hawai‘i, 49
manō ‘aumakua: examples of, 182; NāoneaLa‘a, Kāne‘ohe, O‘ahu, 149,
recent controversies, 185; shark 150
hunting, 187–188, 189; traditional Nāwa‘a, Simeona: informant, 48
hunting, 186–187 Ngata, Sir Apirana, 227, 230, 349
Manoa (or Mānoa) (grandmother of Niho‘oleki, story of, 57–58
Luka Kino), 66 niho palaoa ‘whale’s tooth pendant,’ 321
marae, 228 Nunu, 324
mastery: description of 3–4;
demonstrating, 95–98
Mauae or Maua‘e: member of court Oba, Linda, 350
of Governor Kuakini and guide observation, 85–86
to missionaries, 37–38; brief Office of Hawaiian Affairs (OHA), 73,
description of village welcome, 38; 196, 224, 314, 343
longer version of village welcome, ‘ohe ka‘eke: used to signal appearance
55–56, 79 of canoe, 61–62
Māui (kupua): summation of his feats, ‘ōku‘u epidemic, 116–117
318; analysis of his feats, 318–320 ola: European observations of the state
Maui Native Hawaiian Chamber of of, 115–116; native observations of,
Commerce, 353 116; organized native response to
Maunalua, O‘ahu, 64–65 epidemics, 117–118, color plate 52
Mead, Sir Sidney (Hirini): description olioli: word used in relation to aloha, 24
of Māori welcome (1985), 71–73 Omaokamau (or ‘Ōma‘okamau), 60
measles, 117 Omeah (or ‘O Mea), 337
menehune, 265–266 Onipaa (or ‘Onipa‘a): in reference to
Metropolitan Museum of Art, 363 queen Lili‘uokalani, 44
missionaries, American: understanding ‘Ōpelemoemoe: story of, 316–317, 323
of aloha, 29–34; education by, 38, Opiia, 34
168; development of alphabet, 105; ‘orero ‘Tahitian orator,’ 229;
system of examination, 107–108, description of, 230
110; comments on kapu and
religious system, 177; description
of “Reptile god,” 179–180; pa‘a: word used in relation to aloha, 18
Ka‘ahumanu reference to, 249 Pā‘ao, 52, 204
Moikeha: story of, 61 Pahikaua war: analysis of speech
moku hale, 90 making at council meeting leading
mo‘o ‘aumakua: missionary report of, to, 156–157, 238–241
179–180 Pahinui, Gabby, 343
Mo‘o (scholar): story of, 106 Palaha: invention of enema, 93–95
Morrison, Sir Howard: photo of, 82 palapala ‘literacy:’ description of, 103;
description of writing and kapa
design making, 103; described by
Naihi, 34 Captain King, 104; pa‘i as word for
Naili (or Na‘ili or Nā‘ili), 149–151, printing, 104; kākau as word for
234–235 writing, 104
386  Index

Palapuheke, 94 20–21; welcomed by Kahekili

Palea: greeting Captain Clerke, 53; honi (1786), 64–65; description of ‘awa
ihu, 78; preparation of ‘awa, 122; use, 125; description of shark
disdain for fish, 133; described hunting, 186–187
by Captain King, 299–301; proverbs, traditional: used in speech
described by James Burney, 300; making, 240, 241–243
Kalani‘ōpu‘u’s punahele, 304, Pua‘aiki: blind convert to Christianity,
color plate 14 34–37; asked to dance hula, 35;
Papa, 172; separation of gender roles named Bartimeus Lalana (London),
and prohibitions, 289–290 35; illustration of, 35; early use of
papa ‘ili‘ili ‘table of pebbles:’ used as Hawaiian in a letter, 36
educational tool, 4; description of, Puapuakea, 51
91–92 publications in Hawaiian, 111–112
Paris, World Exposition, 111–112 pueo ‘owl’ ‘aumakua: description by
Paulet, Captain Lord George, 241 Kamakau, 183–184
Pauole (or Pau‘ole), the Rev. Mitchell, Puheke, 93
198 Pukui, Mary Kawena: hospitality,
Peabody Essex Museum, 363 47; welcome chant from
peacemaking, 149–155 Ka‘ū, 74; comment on giving
Pe‘ape‘amakawalu: foe of Māui, 320 of lei, 79; visit to home, 79;
Pele: analogy of an old mele for, 40; visit five elements of traditional
to homes, 46, 75, 180; as ‘aumakua, learning, 85–87; ho‘oponopono,
179–181; 1980 geothermal case, 144, 341; ‘aumakua as part of
180; kapu and lahui described by ho‘oponopono, 160–161; current
the Rev. William Ellis, 259–261 practice of ho‘oponopono, 161–
Peleiōhōlani, 149–151 162; as informant, 216; mentor to
pets: Hawaiians’ affection for described Maiki Aiu Lake, 347
by Captain Portlock, 20–21 Pu‘ueo, Hawai‘i: story of observant
Pickering, Dr. Charles, 110–111, 287 fisherman, 86
Piikea (or Pi‘ikea), 60
pī kai. See blessings
Queen Lili‘uokalani Children’s Center,
pili: word used in relation to aloha, 18
312, 347
Pili (prophet from Kahiki), 257–258
Pilika‘aka‘a, 51
pī wai. See blessings Reeves, Sir Paul, color plate 45
Pōhaku o Kāne ‘Stone of Kāne,’ 143; Richards (American missionary), 37
use by family, 144 riddling contests. See ho‘opa‘apa‘a
pono: discussion of, 5; a way of living, romance stories, 17–23
142; defined by Malo, 145–146; royal trusts, 223
as quality of a good chief, 214; Ruggles (American missionary), 29
Kamehameha’s qualities, 214–215;
Malo’s summation of good
leadership, 217–218; use at school, Sahlins, Marshall, 64, 105, 112
350; Olomana School students’ use Samwell, David: description of Clerke’s
of pono, 350–351 arrival at Kealakekua Bay, 53;
pōpō, color plate 7 description of family reunion,
Portlock, Captain: description of 56–57; description of hospitality in
Hawaiians’ affection for pets, a chief’s home, 62–63; description
 No Nā Mamo  387

of kapa making, 103–104; 232–224; Malo’s account of, 320–

description of preparation of ‘awa, 323; overthrow of older brother,
122; description of the preparation 200–201, 324; descendants’
of kālua pig, 132; decription of squandering of wealth, 328
ceremony on Ni‘ihau, 295–297;
descriptions of Makahiki
celebration, 303–304 va‘atuatua ‘Cook Island orator,’ 228
sandalwood: cutting of, 31 Valeri, Valerio: description of circuit of
shame, 8, 30, 48, 51, 76, 118, 175, 248, Makahiki, 66, 323
314, 326, 332–335, 340–342 Values: discussion of, 1; virtues
Silko, Leslie, 358 described by Kamakau, 12
smallpox, 117–118 Veincent, Lehua: use of pono, 350
Sono: accomplice of Kamanawa, 331
Stewart (American missionary), 37
stick god (Cook Islands), color plate 18 Waia, 204
stones, bundled: traditional uses, Waimea, Kaua‘i, color plate 1; heiau at,
193–194; as contemporary color plate 7
offerings, 194 waiwai: defined and related to water
surfer, color plate 11 conservation, 262
Wākea, 172; separation of roles and
prohibitions, 289–290; aikāne,
Taos Pueblo, 314 301–302
tattoo, color plate 6 Walako‘i: priestess on Ni‘ihau reported
Tewa, Nothern New Mexico Pueblo by David Samwell, 295–297
tribe, 314 walina: variant of welina, 19
Thrum, Thomas G., 17 Warrior, Robert Allen, 353
tobacco: abuse of, 127 Watt–Cloutier, Sheila, 343
trade: initial contact with Cook, Webber, John (or Johann): discussion
282–283; with Golovin, 285–286; of drawing and water colors,
with La Pérouse, 283–284; with 364–365
Lisianakii, 284–285, color plate 2; welina: ancient form of salutation, 15,
dyed blue European linen (1825), 19; aloha substituted for, 28; as
color plate 47 part of traditional welcome, 74
Tuhaka, the Rev. Flora, 165 wet nurse, color plate 35
Tulafale (or tūlafale) ‘Samoan orator,’ whaikōrero (or whaikoorero) ‘Māori
228; description of 230–231, oratory,’ 229; elements of, 236;
231–232, color plate 53 description of, 244; use of gestures
Turner, Dale, 352–353, 358–359, 366 and props, 248; influence on
Tutu, Archbishop Desmond, 40, 338 contemporary Hawaiian oratory,
Tyerman, the Rev. Daniel, 105 250–251
whales: traditional cultural practices,
189–190
Ua mau ke ea o ka ‘āina i ka pono, Whitney, Henry, 29
historical context of, 241–242 whooping cough, 117
Uaua, William Henry: invention of use wig (or hairpiece), color plate 2
of aloha in church service, 38–39
‘Umi (also known as Umi-a-Liloa or
‘Umiokalani), 60, 250; aloha for, Yim, T(ai) C(hoy), 343
388  Index
390  Index

        Production Notes for Chun | No Nā Mamo

Cover design by Robin M. Clark and Wayne M. Shishido
Text design and composition by Wayne M. Shishido
with text and display type in Minion Pro
Printing and binding by Sheridan Books, Inc.
Printed on 50 lb. Glatfelter Natural B18 Text, 500 ppi
This book represents a personal triumph for the author who, convinced of
the necessity for greater public understanding of Hawaiian culture, devoted
many years of research to rediscovering essential elements of the traditional
world view of the native Hawaiian people and the cultural practices that gave
form to that view. A key message in the book is this: To learn is to understand
and to understand is to know how to navigate one’s way through the intricate
cultural pathways of the moment.
Dr. Sir Sidney Hirini Moko Mead
Te Whare Wānanga o Awanuiārangi
Whakatane, Aotearoa

Drawing on a rich and savvy mix of documentation, from ancient chants and
the early writings of indigenous historians to explorers journals and twentieth-
century scholars’ analyses, Malcolm Nāea Chun provides well-chosen excerpts
from original materials, adding just the right brief commentaries of his own.
Dr. Ruth Dawson
University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa

Ma ka‘u mau papa ho‘omākaukau kumu ‘ōiwi, he waiwai maoli nō kēia puke
‘o No Nā Mamo no ka ‘imi a maopopo i ka ‘ike o ko kākou po‘e kūpuna. ‘O nā
kumumana‘o a pau i hō‘ike ‘ia me ka nānā pono ‘ana i kekahi o nā kumuwaiwai
o ke au kahiko a me ke kūkulu ‘ana i luna o ia mana‘o, he ‘ike hohonu nō
ia e ho‘oulu ana i nā ‘ao‘ao like ‘ole o ka mauli ola Hawai‘i, a pēlā ho‘i e
ho‘omālamalama ai i kā kākou hana ho‘ona‘auao.
In my indigenous educator preparation courses, No Nā Mamo is an extremely
valuable resource for students seeking to gain an understanding of the wisdom
of our ancestors. Primary sources and insightful discussion offer profound
insight into numerous aspects of mauli ola Hawai‘i and serve to illuminate our
work as educators.
Makalapua Alencastre
University of Hawai‘i at Hilo

Cover design: Robin M. Clark and Wayne M. Shishido

University of Hawai‘i Press

Honolulu, Hawai‘i 96822-1888

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