2 September 2023 Wandering into the Future

“We need the help of those who can enlarge our vision and broaden our perspective.  Seek out the advice of those who know you and have a wealth of experience.  Build a network of advisors.  Then be open to new ideas and be willing to weigh their suggestions carefully.  Your plans will be stronger and more likely to succeed.”

Above, shared by kuʻuhoa HK is from Study Notes of the New International Version Study Bible.  

Sounds simple, but when trying to survive, to make sense of new realities after catastrophic loss and changes, itʻs tough.  Thinking back on my life just this past year...Iʻm amazed that Iʻm as "balanced" as I am.  It may be prescribed drugs taken for nerve pain and discomfort, that also have the benefits of alleviating anxiety and depression.  It may be that after a near-lifetime of dealing with situations related to having had polio, and its aftereffects, Iʻm more used to change than I thought.  It may be that, when in the throes of "dealing", one doesnʻt have a whole lot of time to wallow in self-pity, save for when, in-dark-of-night sleeplessness, the mind spins and whirls, asking "Why?".

"Why" may never be resolved to our satisfaction, but with the help and support of loved ones, weʻre able to adjust.  We adjust to losses great and small.  We adjust, and pain diminishes.  Diminishes but never completely disappears.  

And then, again, I happened across the following quote.  I posted it before.  Itʻs from Aeschylus, who wrote Greek tragedies, and lived from c. 525-456 BC.

In our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart until, in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God.

 Please note that "awful" in this context may be better spelled "awe-ful", as in full of awe. 

We carry knowledge learned, and it seems, at appropriate times, that knowledge bubbles to the surface.  

A segue...below, yesterdayʻs dawn at Halemaʻumaʻu.  Pinked Maunaloa, and in the distance, to its right, the puʻuʻed summit region of Maunakea, crowned by Kūkahauʻula.  Steams and vapors, in whites and blues,  rise from the floor 

Iʻve come to understand recently, during conversations with friends, information about nomenclature of features at the summit of Kīlauea.  To wit:  Halemaʻumaʻu is the name of the entire floor of the caldera. Though Halemaʻumaʻu has recently been applied only to the active lua that occupies a portion of the caldera floor, in the not-so-distant past, the entire floor was active, with pele (molten lava) erupting at various locations in different styles:  surface overflows from lakes, fountaining here and there, fillings and drainings, etc.  Kalamaʻs map, [a screenshotted portion below] drawn while he was a student at Lahainaluna School in the 1830s labels the summit area "KaluaPele o Kilauea".

In the Pukui and Elbert Hawaiian Dictionary:  lua pele is "n.  Volcano, crater.  Lit., volcanic pit."

Our current understanding is that "Kaluapele o Kilauea" is a descriptor of the thing, the scientific "Kīlauea caldera".  Both phrases apply, but Halemaʻumaʻu is the name of the feature.  Similarly we might call Mokuʻāweoweo, at the summit of Maunaloa, "Kaluapele o Maunaloa".  Kaluapele, a volcanic crater...

For those unfamiliar, Lahainaluna School on Maui [the campus at the top, below], is above (i luna) o Lahaina nei, incinerated on 8 August 2023. 

The Google Earth screenshot below, the image taken on August 12, depicts Māla Wharf at the bottom.  A new subdivision, with some homes unburned though tightly packed, is at the left. the point on the right is partially occupied by a wedge of a sandy old kiawed graveyard.  Many of the homes at the point, on the sandy shore of the fringing reef were burned.

        

Across the street from the cemetery is the great Amida Buddha at the Lahaina Jodo Mission.  The statue remains, but the Mission burned.  A memory:  During a high school field trip to Maui we visited Lahaina and the impressive statue.  And the memory remains.

Wikimedia Commons

The photo depicting subdivisions also shows the concrete-channeled Kahoma stream where it enters the ocean at Māla.

concreting Kahoma

From the US Army Corps of Engineers Honolulu District Website:

"The Kahoma Stream Flood Control project is located in Lahaina on the island of Maui and was completed in 1990. The project was authorized under Section 201 of the Flood Control Act of 1965. Total project cost was $18,500,000 (Federal: $10,840,000; non-Federal: $7,660,000). The drainage basin totals 5.4 square miles. 

"The project consists of a 5,415-foot concrete channel, a debris basin, an offshore rubble apron, three pre-stressed concrete bridges, and related utility relocations. The debris basin design volume is 54,000 cubic yards. The project is designed for standard project flood level protection with a discharge of 15,200 cubic feet per second at the stream mouth. The local sponsor is the County of Maui, Department of Public Works."

Lovely.  A meandering stream, Kahoma [Lit., the thin one] whose muliwai [estuary] was at Māla [Lit., garden], was transformed into a concrete channel more than a mile long.  

A fear is that Lahaina hou, the new Lahaina, will be similarly transformed, with the bestest most updated building codes, so the entire town will be similarly armored to protect against flood, fire, hurricane, tsunami, earthquake, landslide, excessive heat, rising sea levels, and what-lā.  Despite my fears, Iʻm absolutely certain that the resulting town will be incomparably charming.  Or something.

Many of us have become increasingly Risk-Averse.  Alas.  And with that, many have become increasingly prone to file lawsuits to Recover Damages.  Certainly there are times when lawsuits are appropriate, but there are more times when personal responsibility must play a part.

For my part, I was told more than once by physicians and orthotists that I should "conserve" my muscle energy and not walk so much.  That "one day" Iʻd be stricken with Post-Polio Syndrome.  I asked them "When?  When will that day be?"  And of course no one could answer.

So when I retired 10 years ago, I walked.  Two miles every day to Keanakākoʻi and back.  Rain, shine, heat, cold.  Didnʻt much matter.  Sure felt good, all those endorphins coursing.  2 miles x 300 days maybe in a year = 600 miles.  10 years (-) 1 when the park was closed = 9 x 600 = 5,400 miles,  Or so.

Walking, observing seasonal changes, thinking, wondering.  Then, ever so slowly, without much notice, my legs began to fail.  I didnʻt pay much attention.  And here we are abed.  Wandering into the future, unknowns around every turn.  But there too are beloved family, friends, acquaintances who offer support and reassurances.  Gratitudes abound.

And, as we approach ka māuiili o ka hāʻulelau (the Autumnal Equinox), despite every thing and all, we are grateful.  

With aloha, always aloha,

BobbyC

maniniowali@gmail.com

20 August 2023 Excellent Map: Lahaina in 1884

 Probably best to Download to a Desktop so viewing is easier.

Aloha,

BobbyC

19 August 2023 Musings about Water and Old Maps

Iʻm a daily reader and a donor to Civil Beat, a e-news communication based on Oʻahu.  GoLook.  They report and dig as deep as they can about issues many of us view as critical.  And I watch local network news, and CNN, MSNBC, etc.  A mix:  local reporters, malihini haole reporters and everything (almost) in between.  

A big topic over which media has been obsessing over is that Kaleo Manuel, then Deputy Director for the Commission on Water Resource Management, didnʻt release water in a timely fashion to aid fire fighting efforts.  Shortly after that news was circulated, Mr Manuel was "redeployed" to another position.

Those who know me know about my wide-ranging curiosities.  Anything related to science, natural history, geography, nā mea Hawaiʻi Nei, etc., count me in.  Iʻm not "Expert" in anything, but am, I believe, a fairly good observer.  Given that Iʻm bed-bound much of the time, I have the luxury of noodling around the ether, following interests where ever they may lead.  Until I get distracted by something else.

I wrote (yesterday?) briefly about the Seamenʻs Hospital in Lahaina.  It burned.  And about the homes across the street, oceanfront.  They too burned.  GoogleEarth has posted, uploaded, or whatever they do, aerial imagery taken on Aught 21, 2023, four days after the conflagration.  Go Nānā ʻĀina.  Look at the land.  About 4 miles of the coast, and, of course, ma uka areas were burned.

The turquoise-watered pools seen in an image posted yesterday are now black.  The oceanfront lush green lawn, held up by a seawall, grass now singed grey, is to the left of the Seamenʻs Hospital.  Looking, scrolling through GoogleEarth is overwhelming, the incomprehensibility of it all...

Back to The Water and Mr Manuel and Keaaumoku Kapu and Kauaʻula.  

Keeaumoku Kapu and the ʻāina and wai of Kauaʻula

The link above is to a Civil Beat article about a tedious, but ultimately successful court case, in which Mr Kapu successfully "took back" family land and water rights.  GoRead.

The property in question, I believe, is:

Active loʻi (wetland kalo patches) are the green rectangles at lower left.  The swath of land immediately to the right holds ghostly images of what appear to be long fallow loʻi.  Ke awāwa Kauaʻula (Kauaʻula valley).

Ka-ua-ʻula n.

1. A strong mountain wind, often destructive, at Lahaina, Maui. Lit., the red rain [referring to red soil washed away by a storm]. Ke kukui pio ʻole i ke Ka-ua-ʻula, the light not extinguished by Ka-ua-ʻula [in praise of Lahaina Luna school].

Please note, the definition above, from Place Names of Hawaiʻi.  Local knowledge of geographies is instructive.  We shouldnʻt be surprised, then, when get Big Wind!

The valley is in shadow at the bottom right of screenshot.  We can see the light green of kukui along the watercourse at right.  To me, the presence of kukui is often an indicator of water sufficient to support those moisture-loving trees.

A wider view of the area, again, GoogleEarth, August 12, 2023.

Ashgrey Lahaina at left, brown burned grasses, then ma uka, to the right of Hwy3000 (the Lahaina Bypass?) an Agricultural Subdivision on former cane fields.  I see the presence of what appear to be two reservoirs, the blackish trapezoids.  I donʻt see a reservoir upstream at the yellow-pinned loʻi of Mr Kapu.

Kauaʻula stream doesnʻt appear to be running.  

The ma uka Reservoir, Kauaʻula, seems full, and perhaps that water is meant for the AgLots ma kai?  

Thereʻs no direct road from either reservoir to town.

What/Which water was/is Mr Manuel concerned about?

How many gallons?

Even if he said GoGetUm, what would the logistics have looked like?

If indeed had ka makani Kauaʻula, pretty sure Nā Poʻe Kinai Ahi (Firefighters) wouldnʻt have been able to do their work.  Too dangerous.

Then thereʻs the problem of that "strong mountain wind, often destructive".  The National Weather Service had issued Red Flag Warnings, High Wind Warnings, Warnings.  

BeOutside, PayAttention.

Red Flag Warning issued August 7 at 3:15AM HST until August 9 at 6:00AM HST by NWS Honolulu HI

A Red Flag Warning means critical fire weather conditions are either occurring or will occur shortly. The combination of dry fuels, strong and gusty trade winds, and low relative humidity levels could produce extreme fire behavior. A Red Flag Warning does not predict new fire starts.

A Wind Advisory means strong winds are occurring. Winds this strong can tear off shingles, knock down tree branches, blow away tents and awnings, and make it difficult to steer, especially for drivers of high-profile vehicles.

All the Warnings, Advisories, and what-la mean nothing if the populace doesnʻt pay attention, or understand what they mean.  I believe that details matter, and in these times when inaccuracies are repeated through uncontrolled (anti)social media, and many Officials donʻt seem to understand weather phenomena and broadcast inaccuracies, The Populace is often left wondering.  What I supposed to do?

From wikipedia:
Though Dora did not pose a direct threat to the Hawaiian Islands, the National Weather Service in Honolulu did issue numerous weather warnings and advisories, especially red flag warnings, for portions of the various islands in expectation of the hurricane helping enhance trade winds in conjunction with an ongoing drought.^[63] A steep pressure gradient between a strong anticyclone to the north of Hawaii and Dora to the south produced incredibly strong gradient winds over the islands which in turn helped cause multiple wildfires in Hawaii. The fires killed at least 111 people, all on Maui, and damaged or destroyed more than 2,200 buildings, primarily in Lahaina. The wildfires are the deadliest natural disaster in Hawaii's recorded history.^[64]

And, to keep stirring the pot, here are some Rainfall Stats for Maui Komohana (West Maui)...

And then thereʻs Puʻukukui...up top...

Yes, the stats are old and perhaps not applicable for these times, but they may be instructive as far as relative amounts at various stations.  

Weʻre trying to get to a place where we understand how, with the climate and weathers we see today, how was Lahaina able to support loko (ponds), loʻi, and swamps?  The answer seems to be that Lahaina then is not the Lahaina now.  I need to dig deeper to understand, because I not from Lahaina, not from Maui. Stay tuned.  But for now, from the Map Collection of the State Survey Office, please see the following.

Search for Archival Maps

When the page above opens, Download the Registered Map Index.  Browse it, and when you see a map of interest, type the number in the Registered Map Number box. Click Search.  Have fun!

Two screenshots below of Registered Map (RegMap) #1262 by SE Bishop in 1884.  First of note is the large loʻi kalo (Taro Patch) on the waterfront next to the Court House.

And another screenshot of the same map, this one a little south of the above.  The legendary Loko (Pond) Mokuhinia in which was Mokuʻula, a domain of aliʻi o Maui.

about Mokuʻula

Map below is the 1916 Registered Map #2581

So wetness in Lahaina extended to the shore.  And if we mālama ka ʻāina it likely can again!

Some of my scribblings:

Out of the ashes, opportunities. "We" have the chance to put on display, for the world, ingenuities of Native Hawaiians and others in how to build and live within our means. No need complex "International Building Codes" that no one I know can read or comprehend. As we see, no code wouldʻve saved Lahaina from the blowtorch. Build smart, build simple, wide eaves, water catchment, big airy lanai.

But First:  

Take down all the seawalls.  Let the ocean seek equilibrium and form new beaches. Condemn or purchase all properties along the shore, much like the 2018 Lava Buyout Program. When the shoreline stabilizes, make a wide shoreline park. Then a new Front Street, then homes ma uka of that. 

Recruit UH Architecture students to design innovative dwellings based on local needs, local microclimates.  Simplify building codes. Simplify. We cannot, must not, design fortresses to protect ourselves. It does not work.   

Starting at the ma kai edges of the forests of Maunakahālāwai: Plant. Plant ʻōhiʻa, plant ʻaʻaliʻi, ʻōhiʻa, wiliwili, alaheʻe, plant kukui, ʻulu, kalo, uala, ʻōhiʻa, koaia, lama, ʻōhiʻa. Plant kīpuka, let kīpuka expand and connect.   

Resurrect Mokuhinia and Mokuʻula. 

Itʻs approaching nap time.  Till then...

Aloha, always aloha,

BobbyC

maniniowali@gmail.com 

18 August 2023 Remembering Then in Lahaina

When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me

Speaking words of wisdom, let it be

And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me

Speaking words of wisdom, let it be

Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be

Whisper words of wisdom, let it be

Let it be.  No can help.  Goinʻ be OK.  Bumbai...  Words of wisdom from The Beatles, long long time ago,  Mary being Paul McCartneyʻs mother.  Iʻll leave it to you to goGoogle and learn more.  

Those of us of certain ages have witnessed more changes in and to Hawaiʻi Nei than we care to acknowledge most of the time.  We recall, try to recapture, remember, but ultimately, no can.  We have precious memories, multistrands of Lei Haliʻa, sometimes like food cravings, showing up unexpectedly.  And yes, many of us insist that those were indeed the Good Old Days.  They were.  Really.  Camping with four under three at Kīkaua, hiking up Maunaloa to Mokuʻāweoweo, hiking up to the tops of Maunakea, Hualālai, Moaʻula, Haleakalā, cruising many trails on the ʻāina pele of Kekahawaiʻole, and those glorious days on the whitesandyshore and in ManiniʻōwaliBlue waters.  Glorious, and how fortunate for us.  Then digital arrived, and with it an increasing clamor for more more more.  Now.  Quick. Faster!

All those photos flooding Media of ashengrey remains of buildings, between blue Pacific and green Maunakahālāwai.  All those photos.

Seamenʻs Hospital 1833

Iʻm fond of pōhaku, and also buildings made of pōhaku, or ʻākoʻakoʻa (coral).  The photo below, of the Seamenʻs Hospital in Lahaina attracted me.  Mostly because after nearly 200 years it still stands.  Ravaged, but standing, as are many kamaʻāina o Lahaina. Note the large anchor, bottom center.  And too the pool in the background may serve as a useful reference. 

Sigh...nothing much else to say...

Some are pointing out very real fears that real estate speculators will / are descending on the peoples of Lahaina, attempting to make them offers they, the people, canʻt refuse.  Auēēēēēē

The ultimate in pilau!  Weʻve all seen folks sell properties and move to other, more favored, places near or far.  If itʻs a free-will choice, for a bigger home, a better view, sure.  But if the move, as so many are these days, based on the fact that Hawaiʻi Nei is completely unaffordable, that must stop.  Government here now give some families major property tax breaks...at least to families kamaʻāina to a place, especially an oceanfront home of generations, no matter what their malihini neighbors pay.  As government should.

Below, if Imagery Dates (at bottom of photos) are trusted, see the change? That big, rust-colored oceanfront roof?  2016:  Next door, to the right if you face the ocean.  Had one lot with three (?) buildings? Driveway to rustyroofed garage, small hale, maybe another.

Then by March of this year, below, that property, transformed. Big House, Big sea-walled Lawn.  And that light turquoise pool on the right margin, compare with the upper photo of the burnt out Hospital.

How come always gotta build so big?  So fancy?  Why?  Cause can?  Cause you can afford the staff (low-paid local labor) to upkeep the place?  Clean the hale, clean yard, etc. No need!  Nuff aʻready!

OK, Bob.  Calm down...

In the late 70ʻs, after Hōkūleʻa came back from Tahiti, maybe in 1977 when we sailed her to Kahului, Jo, Leon, and I took a day trip to Lahaina just to holoholo.  Jo and Leon knew Keola Sequeira, so we tracked him down.  Part of the day was a short sail on recently finished Moʻolele, from the shore of Lahaina.  And she did fly over or leap over the swells, her single crab claw sail full.  Was good fun.  Then thereʻs progress...Most of the time Hōkūleʻa sails with traditional western rigs, rather than the crab claws she was born with.

Moʻolele was lost to the fire.

on HPR, August 16, 2023, Moʻolele lost

Keola Sequeira and nā waʻa

We strolled part of Front Street, where in a shop, I bought a tuluma. 

in the Collection at Tepapa Tongarewa, Aotearoa

Tuluma at Tepapa Tongarewa, Aotearoa

Itʻs a Tokelau islands fishing tackle box.  I still have it.

And then we ended up at Puamana, that famed place by the sea, for an afternoon barbeque.  We were offered cow udder, cooked on the grill.  Yup.  Cannot say No.  I hesitated, but was ʻono.  Chewy but delicious.  

Lyrics below from huapala.org

about Puamana

and the song, sung by Irmgard mā

OK?  May these histories, however theyʻre remembered, live on.  I know hard time listen now, especially for those rooted deeply to the ʻāina there, but time will pass and the pain will ease however slightly.

me ke aloha,

BobbyC

maniniowali@gmail.com

August 17, 2023 A Million Points of View

Nui nā ola i pōʻino, ā ʻo ka nui a nā pohō o nā waiwai i pōʻino

Many lives lost, and much loss of property through devastation

The mind is awhir, not knowing where to land or where to rest.  We seem to be in the Anger stage of grief.  

"The five stages of grief are denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. There’s no order to them and they serve as a reference instead of a guide on how to grieve." [psychcentral.com]

The ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi sentence above revealed itself as I wandered through the Pukui and Elbert (P/E) Hawaiian Dictionary.  Talk about a perfectly perfect summary.  I was attempting to understand the definition of "Lahaina".  Others, for no apparent reason other than itʻs the older (original?) pronunciation, use Lāhainā.

And note, dear readers, that the last sentence, bolded above, is wrong.  "Lele" does not, and has never meant, "relentless sun".  And tis a pity that it was apparently published in the Maui News.  So many errors by journalists.

And then, from Cody Pueo Pata, of Maui:

I apologize for the poor reproduction.  Itʻs from his book 

ʻohuʻohu nā mauna o ʻeʻeka, place names of maui komohana

"Komohana" is west, and Mānaleo are Native born, native speakers of ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi.  Two other scholars, both fluent speakers, and importantly, of Lahaina, agree with CPP, that Lahaina is correct.

And yet again, journalists and copy editors, unfamiliar wit, and ignorant of, language resources, choose to perpetuate errors.  Lele and Lāhainā.  No.  Except a little mayhaps:  Maybe particular families have perpetuated "Lāhainā".  Perhaps...

A good friend, perceptive, and an excellent observer and writer who lives in California, noted that most news coverage features malihini haole whoʻve lived on Maui XX years, lamenting the losses.  He has not seen Native Hawaiians being interviewed, and wondered Why?  I suggested that they NoLaik.  After many many decades of being ignored or exploited, they nolaik.  They are not inclined to talk with haole media who are clueless about the plight of Native Hawaiians.  NHs have no time to hold seminars regarding their cultural losses, and the fact that wealthy haole buy houses and property at inflated prices and NHs NoCan.  Native Hawaiians, many of them, call Lahaina home.  It is their one (oh-neh) hānau, the sand of their birth.  They live crowded into hot termite-infested houses on backstreets, multi-generations packed in.  They may work selling trinkets, or cleaning rooms at fancy houses, empty most of the year, or in any number of low-paying service industry jobs.  Or they move to the Continent, heartbroken and sickened, missing their homeland.

I really hope that the link below works.  Itʻs an excellent piece.

former Warriors Head Coach Don Nelson

And PLEASE can we please stop referring to Hawaiʻi Nei as "Paradise"?  Please.  Stop.  Whose paradise is it?  Retired haole who maitai at sunset on the beach till they tire of the ritual and move elsewhere?  Those who made obscene fortunes in Silicon Valley and elsewhere who come here and buy a beach house, and a mountain house, or a $20M+ place at the shore thatʻs empty for 50 weeks of the year?  And weʻre expected to smile and bow, or worse, remain unseen while time-controlled draperies reveal sunrises or sunsets?   Please stop with the "Paradise" and remember those who make your paradise possible.  Those who toil at two or three jobs, at their quotidian tasks trying to piece together enough money to pay the bills, to buy food, to buy gas, to buy... 

I know...kinda hard to see.  Maybe go GoogleEarth and Nānā ʻĀina.  Digitally, of course.  Look at and assess the land.  Fancy houses, green green lawns on a sere landscape.  At the foot of the mauna, Maui Komohana, high enough to be cool, great ocean views, etc.  Lahaina is just to the left of the screenshot.

All those oval-ish features, and the ghostly roads... The ovals are piles of pōhaku, gathered from adjacent former sugar cane fields as they were cleared for cultivation, and the roads are canehaul roads, formerly used to take cane to Pioneer Mill in Lahaina.  To cruise at leisure, in GoogleEarth search for Launiupoko.

Here on the Island of Hawaiʻi, another leeward landscape in Waikoloa...Many are fond of calling Waikoloa Village the "biggest cul-de-sac" in the State.  One (thatʻs right, 1, as in one) paved road in and out.  Thousands of people live there surrounded by Two Hundred Thousand Acres (200,000 acres) of alien, invasive, highly flammable fountaingrass.

about Fountaingrass

At the bottom left are Kaunaʻoa Bay, site of the Maunakea Beach Hotel, and Hapuna Beach.  The Hilton Waikoloa (actually in ʻAnaehoʻomalu) is at lower right, fronting Waiulua Bay, where huge tiger cowries used to be found, and where a number of anchialine pools were directed to be filled by Chris Hemmeter when the then Hyatt Waikoloa was built, completed in 1988.  The filling, a dastardly act, was accomplished during a 24 hour lapse in permitting.

Today I queried all councilmembers about building a road connecting Waikoloa with Queen Kaʻahumanu Highway, 2 miles makai.  I received a reply from an aide to Councilmember Evans:

"I spoke to Councilmember Evans about your message, and she would like to share that she has been in contact with Mayor Roth and Public Works Director Steve Pause.  They are aware of this problem and are working on a proposed solution for a second road.  Her concern is that the solution will take time and we need to act immediately. 

 

It is her hope to have discussions with the community and this administration soon and produce mitigation measures and short-term solutions on how to improve our rapid response and evacuation protocols.

 

In the meantime, thank you for writing, and if you wish to set up an appointment to discuss this issue, please let me know. "

It was the only reply so far.  Seems that "not my District, not my problem".  Evans is right to be concerned about the need to act immediately.  The middle paragraph, probably well-intentioned, reads like typical bureaucratic BS.  And no, no appointments for me.  Thanks.

The seemingly random disconnects of this post is because too much info is banging around in my head. Too many thoughts, too much frustration and anger, too much seething as a writer acquaintance put it.  

Just too damn much.

More to follow.

Be well.  Share this as you will.

Aloha, always aloha,

BobbyC

maniniowali@gmail.com

25 June 2023. Then, in Tahiti...

 We reminisce, recall, with wonder and deep appreciations, cherished memories.  Mayhaps because many of us are "of an age", when body parts begin to fail, and, beset by ailments, we remember...

I was working as a Seasonal Interpretive Ranger at Hawaiʻi Volcanoes National Park the Summer of 1985.    In July, Jo-Anne [jks] called and said OK, we going Tahiti.  Her husband, and other family, friends, and acquaintances were going down to prep Hōkūleʻa for the second leg of the "Voyage of Rediscovery", which would go as far as Aotearoa.  I told her OK then, I gotta take off work.  For three weeks?

I went and met with my boss, and said I needed to take a few weeks off.  Of course I had no Leave Time, having just started work.  He reminded me of that, and asked what was so urgent that I "needed" to go?  I explained, and apologized for the short notice.  Then he said What if I deny your leave?  I chuckled and said Iʻll quit and go anyway.  Shaking his head, he smiled and said Go...

Thirty-eight years later circumstances remind us of that time, with one particular event indelibly etched.  Weʻll get to that soon enough.

So we flew south, landing at Faaʻa Airport around midnight.  It was an easy trip.  Maybe 5 hours more or less straight down, in the same time zone.  No jet lag.  Stepping outside the terminal...lights on the hills ma uka, the smells of diesel and woodsmoke, people speaking French.  We made our way to a little one-story waterfront motelish place just west of downtown.

The crowded waterfront in  Papeʻete.  Hōkū stands out a bit amongst all the other masts.  Lots of activity at the harbor, traffic along the bordering thoroughfare added noise...  By the time we arrived, the canoe had been mostly prepared and stocked.  jks and I easily occupied ourselves.  Going to the central market for our lau hala bags so weʻd easily carry our baguette, cans of sardines, and bottles of water.  Basic supplies, because even back then, Tahiti was expensive.  We managed to find a shoppe, I think Magasin Venus, as instructed by Ilima, where we happily found old-fashioned cotton fabric, 36" wide, in a variety of prints and colors.  "One meter 8" was the yardage needed to fashion pāreu.  Perfect.  Cannot find that kine today.  Everything seems to be 45" wide polyester, or rayon, or some gauzy thing.

Soon enough Hōkū was ready.  gp asked if jks and I wanted to to with them to Moʻorea.  Of course!  Kinda silly to say no.  So we went.  It had been arranged that a cultural group, Pupu Ariʻoi would host us.  

Gazing. wondering, thinking, enthralled, amazed...

We sailed about the 15 miles to Moʻorea and tied up at a little pier next to an old church in Afareaitu.

Tahiti (Nui and Iti) is like our isle of Maui:  Big and little islands joined by an isthmus.  Papeʻete is on the west side of the north shore of Tahiti Nui.  Surfers and their fans may be familiar with "Chopes" the slangized name of Teahupoʻo, at the end of the road (the bottom one) on Tahiti Iti.

So after tying up at the pier, one of the Tahitian crew ran down the road to alert the folks of Pupu Ariʻoi of our arrival.  Soon enough we were informally greeted and bustled off to their compound on the ma uka side of the coastal road.  Iaorana and aloha spread, and orientation given, we were instructed to meet at the main fare (fuh-reh) for a formal welcome.  There was an oration by a tupuna tāne, and the response, a formal oratory in ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi, by Tūtū Abraham Piianaia.  No matter that few of us could understand either, their voices both held us rapt.  Other speakers followed.

Above, the thatched main fare.  Below, the interior.  The framing is hau, lined with lau hala.  Lightweight, made with what get locally.  It was stunning.  At left below is green tee-shirted Leon Paoa Sterling, and at right in jeans and white shirt, Tūtū Piianaia.  NAP commented:  "I like how the young ones are gathered to talk with Tutu.  He was always kind of a quiet unassuming presence.  Just sort of there and always observing, never pressing."  Capturing an essence of the man...He is missed.

Below, another fare where we gathered.  Note the bands of metal on coconut tree trucks.  Climbing rats slip and slide and arenʻt able to get up to coconuts.

Herb Kane wrote of part of the 1985 voyage, but left out something for some reason.  See the following.

1985: The Seekers by Herb Kane

A pertinent excerpt:

I went over their entire story with them, and heard it as Henry had told it to me.

 

"He wrote down your phone number in Kona, but when we got back we couldn't find the paper," Kawena said. "When Tehani took us to Taputapuatea , the big marae, the people there asked us to talk to the Hokule'a guys. They said that in the olden days, when the last canoe left, the chief of the canoe-Maui was his name -turned back and put a kapu on the place. Tapu, they call it.

 

"Only one thing can lift the kapu. A canoe must come from Hawai'i, and it must come into the lagoon through the narrow pass in the reef right outside the temple-Teavamoa, they call the pass. When Hokule'a came to Ra'iatea before, in 1976, it was brought through the main ship passage outside the town of Uturoa. Wrong place. The people were unhappy, but nobody had told the Hokule'a guys any different; and the guy who took them through, he was from Tahiti, and he didn't know how important it was to come in through Teavamoa Pass.

 

"When we returned to Mo'orea, we met again with the Pu'u Ario'i folks. They have this old kupuna man they look up to, and he said the same as the folks at Taputapuatea . When Hokule'a comes again, it should sail right in at Taputapuatea and lift the kapu. He said that the kapu is a curse for Mo'orea. All canoes that tried to sail from Mo'orea to Taputapuatea have failed. It has been this way for hundreds of years; and not until a canoe from Hawai'i sails in through the pass at Taputapuatea can the curse be lifted.

 

"So will you tell the Hokule'a guys, please? When Hokule'a comes again?"

 

"I'll pass it on," I replied, "but there's no plan to sail Hokule'a to Tahiti again. She's already made two trips, one in '76 and one in '80."

 

"We'll have to go to Tahiti again," Nalani said. "We don't know when, or what this all means, but the old man on Huahine said we would make another trip, maybe more. And the old kupuna man at Mo'orea was sure that Hokule'a would come again, in just a couple years, but he said he would be dead by then. When Hokule'a comes, he will die."

And, another excerpt:

While at Tahiti, Nainoa and the captain, Gordon Pi'ianai'a, were visited by a delegation from the Pu'u Ario'i with an invitation to bring the canoe to Mo'orea. A feast and ceremonies were planned. Mo'orea was not on the itinerary, but to decline the invitation would appear ungracious; moreover, cultural exchange was a purpose of the voyage. Gordon accepted the invitation.

 

He had met some of the Pu'u Ario'i on Mo'orea five years earlier, during the previous voyage of Hokule'a. Their senior kupuna, the leading elder, had honored Gordon with a Tahitian name, Tamatoa, and had predicted that both Gordon and Hokule'a would someday return-a prediction which, at the time, seemed highly unlikely.

 

Hokule'a was welcomed to Mo'orea with a formal oration that lasted perhaps thirty minutes. Historian Abraham Pi'ianai'a, Gordon's father, having joined the crew at Tahiti, was able to respond with correct protocol, modifying his impeccable Hawaiian slightly so that it could be understood by Tahitian ears. His response drew a tremendous ovation.

 

Gordon noticed that the old man he had met five years earlier was not among the Pu'u Ario'i.

 

The Hawaiians were overwhelmed with hospitality; and a special request was formally presented to them: when they reached Ra'iatea, would they please sail into the lagoon through the pass outside of Taputapuatea ? This had been the wish of their senior elder, that a canoe from Hawai'i land at Taputapuatea and lift the curse which Mo'orea canoe navigators had suffered for centuries. Unfortunately, that elder could not make the plea himself. True to his own prediction, he had died on the day that Hokule'a had landed at Tahiti.

 

The day after leaving Mo'orea, the canoe reached Huahine, 140 miles to the west.

About that "special request":  To ensure success of the curse-lifting endeavor, and to purify the crew, the people of Pupu Ariʻoi decided that it was necessary to conduct a "fire walking" ceremony.  This was to include everyone who had arrived on Hōkū at Moʻorea, and those from Moʻorea who would be sailing onward. Of course that meant Jo-Anne and I too.  

The afternoon was spent watching imu opening, wandering the grounds, talking story, and resting, with a bit of background dread:  Fire walking.  

The fire walk was to take place onsite.  A ditch had been dug, perhaps 4 or 5 feet wide and 20 long.  It had been prepped like an imu:  layers of wood topped by rocks.  It was lit mid-afternoon.   By the time we went sleep (or tried to) stones could be heard cracking and popping.  Weʻd been instructed that someone would wake us at 3am.  Weʻd be given a plain muslin pāreu to wear, and monoi, tiare-infused coconut oil, for our skin.  And so it happened.

chill breeze from mountains

moorea moonlit night

coconut grove awe

After dozing in fits and starts, we got up and changed into pāreu.  The monoi, homemade and in reused glass bottles, aside from its memory-evoking fragrance, is an effective insulator against cool morning air.  We spoke in whispers and gathered where a small group of Tahitians were working.  The grass was damp with familiar early-morning dew.

The luna of the walk went along each edge of the pit, probing hot pōhaku and settling them in place with a wood ʻōʻō.  Then, when he and others decided it was ready, with a whole stalk of kī, unrushed and careful, he began walking the length of the hot ditch, using lau kī to brush off ash and embers from the rock surface.  When all was properly prepped and deemed ready, we organized and lined up.  Luna first, then Tūtū Piianaia, then the crew...  

The soles of our feet were wet, the pōhaku dense, flat, and warmhot.  We proceeded, looking down to ensure our footing was stable.  Between the stones, emberglow, the silence of concentration.  There may have been chant and prayer.  I donʻt remember.  After the line of us were pau, somebody said One more time?  We all agreed Of Course!  And so it was.

Nainoa, post fire-walk contemplation at Afareaitu

Jo-Anne and I ferried back to Papeʻete; Hōkū sailed off to Huahine.  Jo and I had decided to fly to Raʻiatea so we could meet the canoe at Taputapuatea.  So we did.  My French was more or less nonexistent, Joʻs basic.  Late afternoon at the curb of the small airport on Raʻiatea we looked at each other and shrugged.  Passengers were met and driven off.  There were a handful of locals pitching their pension (lodging).  We were attracted to a cheerful woman with a navy blue camper-shelled pickup, we chatted then Jo and I climbed in the back.  Trust.  Bumping along roads, then a stop.  The woman came to the tail gate and told us to wait.  A few minutes later she returned with a fresh whole mahimahi.  Our dinner.  Her pension was tidy and clean, very rural, and she lived next door.  When she returned with our meals, we chatted in French English Hawaiian pidgin.  We shared that we were there to greet the canoe, and were from Hawaiʻi.  Oh! She said...Thereʻs a man here from Hawaiʻi.  Tom Cummings.  Married to a local woman, Therese.  Jo knew him from mutual associations with Kamehameha Schools.  Of course.  Trust.  It was settled.  Our hostess would call Tom and weʻd meet him tomorrow.

Tom, years later, speaking on Oʻahu [gigi-hawaii]

Jo and I were delivered to Tom and Thereseʻs home, not far away.  An unanticipated reunion, after which we jumped into logistics and planning.  We should go Taputapuatea today.  Then when Hōkū is close, weʻll go with friends in their aluminum skiff to greet them at Teavamoa.  Gotta make sure they sail into the correct pass!

Below...part of marae Taputapuatea.  Marae = Heiau.  In Tahiti, some marae have large slabs of upright stone forming the back wall.  Taputapuatea has a paved court in front.  Please reference readings online to gain more information about this special place.  Similar heiau are found in Hawaiʻi, and are deemed "older" by some because of their construction.  Here, smaller upright slabs of lava form the back wall of a paved platform, and the slabs aid in sightings of celestial objects...stars and planets.

Below, finally, after hundreds of years, a waʻa from Hawaiʻi enters Teavamoa, lifting the kapu.  The dim outline of Huahine can be seen on the horizon at right.

A small crowd gathered and waited for Hōkū to anchor.

from Pinterest

A surfeit (or not!) of tiare (above), as worn in Tahiti.  And below, greenish yellow motoʻi (ylangylang).  Lovely fragrance.  Both flowers are used to infuse coconut oil with their fragrances, yielding Monoi.  Monoi tiare (Tahitian gardenia) is an all-time favorite.  All those days at Maniniʻōwali and other beaches on Kekaha-wai-ole shores, monoi in the morning on the skin...and in the hair (long, wavy darkish hair!).  Oiling your skin made water bead after swimming, alleviating that annoying itchy salt crustiness when putting on clothes after.

Motoʻi or Ylangylang

Le Ylang-ylang, Motoi, (Cananga odorata) originaire de l’Asie du sud-est, est connu depuis longtemps par les marquisiens qui utilisent les fleurs très odorantes pour parfumer le monoï ou pour la composition de bouquets aphrodisiaques. Il aurait été introduit à Tahiti en 1850 par M. Dunnett.

So.  Now you have a bit more information about the Voyage of Rediscovery.  Until events like our cleansing fire walk are written about, the picture can remain incomplete.

Aloha, always aloha.  Please email questions or comments.

BobbyC

maniniowali@gmail.com