“Onaona ke ‘ala o ka maile i ka līhau ‘ia e ka ua noe”
Fragrant is the scent the maile, kept fresh and moist by the misty rain.

“Ku‘u pua ponimō‘ī”

One of our absolute favorite fragrances is maile, the twisting, native vine so familiar at local weddings and graduations. But maile is much more than just a lei to be given at special occasions.

Its delicate fragrance is imbued with the divine. In Hawaiian mythology, the Maile (nā Maile) are four sister goddesses whose kinolau (body form) are the four different kinds of maile. Where ever the sisters had ventured, the maile vine was surely to be found.

Maile is also sacred to Laka, the goddess of hula. Consequently, maile was draped on the hula altar, or kuahu. Dancers, or ‘ōlapa, would traditionally wear maile for skill and inspiration.

Unfortunately, maile is nowadays far more difficult to be found. Its rarity and cost has made its beloved scent a thing for special occasions.

But that doesn’t mean that you can’t enjoy ke ‘ala o ka maile, the fragrance of maile, everyday. Kaua‘i-based company Mālie Organics has captured the essence of the maile in a range of beauty products it has called Koke‘e, named after Kōke‘e State Park on Kaua‘i. Mālie’s Koke‘e line includes a soy candle, body cream, and body wash. But our favorite is the organic mist. Just one spritz, and the scent of maile gently hangs in the air—making it perfect for a room or bed linens. It just makes us think a hike in the uplands or one of our childhood vists to a lei stand.

Even better, Mālie Organics products are natural with no chemicals or additives. Mālie’s founders, Dana and Shaun Roberts, extract their fragrance from local, sustainably grown plants in a hydrosol distillation process that captures their essence. Plus, every time you purchase a product from the Koke ‘e line, Mālie makes a donation to the Kōke‘e Resource Conservation Program.

Where to buy

Mālie Organic’s Kōke‘e Organic Mist  and line is available for $40 on the company’s online store. For a list of retailers carrying Mālie Organics products, click here.

Learn more about maile

‘Ōlelo Hawai‘i speakers can read more about the Maile sisters in S. N. Hale‘ole’s Ke Ka’ao o Lā‘ieikawai, available here on Ulukau.org.

Credits

Photos used above are used in accordance with the Creative Commons License. For photo information, click here for maile image and here for picture of Kōke‘e State Park on Kaua‘i.

On this day, Kaila Hawai‘i would like to celebrate the birthday of Prince Jonah Kūhiō Kalaniana‘ole Pi‘ikoi. Prince Kūhiō was born on March 26, 1871 in Kōloa, Kaua‘i to High Chief David Kahalepouli Pi‘ikoi and High Chiefess Victoria Kekaulike Kinoiki. He later became the hānai son of King David Kalākaua and Queen Kapi‘olani. Prince Kūhiō is widely celebrated for his political expertise in post-annexation Hawai‘i, especially for the Hawaiian Homes Commission Act. The day of his birth is now known in Hawai‘i as Kūhiō Day, while his name now honors places all over the Hawaiian archipelago.

But Prince Kūhiō also helped to spread traditional Hawaiian culture. In the 1880s, Prince Kūhiō, along with his brothers Prince David Kawānanakoa and Prince Edward Keli‘iahonui, attended Saint Matthew’s School in San Mateo, California. In the summer of 1885, Prince Kūhiō and his fellow young ali‘i visited family friends in Santa Cruz. During their time there, the young princes headed out into the waves to enjoy the royal pastime of he‘enalu, or surfing, at the mouth of the San Lorenzo River. The people of Santa Cruz quickly took note.  The July 20, 1885 edition of Santa Cruz’ The Daily Surf comments:

The young Hawaiian princes were in the water, enjoying it hugely and giving interesting exhibitions of surf-board swimming as practiced in their native islands.

Unlike the surfers of today, these 19th century ali‘i headed out on massive 15 foot, 100 lb boards made out of local Californian redwood. Though it is still not widely known, these young ali‘i are now credited with introducing surfing to the United States.

And surfing was not the only physical art that Prince Kūhiō’s had mastered. He was also a skilled athlete, a marksman, and, a true rarity for his time, a practitioner of the traditional martial art of Lua.

Prince Kūhiō’s wide range of accomplishments still resound 139 years later and serve as a fine example to all Hawaiians and residents of Hawai‘i.

Today’s Hawaiian word of the day is uli, a word with a rich depth of meaning.

Uli can refer to any dark color from the black of dark clouds to the blue of the deep ocean to the verdant green of cliffs. Even the dark color of a bruise, such as a black eye, can be described as uli. The reduplicated word uliuli describes color more directly.

According to the Hawaiian Dictionary, uli is sometimes avoided in poetic compositions as Uli is also the name of a goddess of sorcery. Keeping in line with the metaphysical, uli is also short ʻōuli, or omen.

However, uli is not a negative word in the end. For instance, it forms part of the name Paliuli, or Green Cliff, literally, a mythical land of joy and home of Lāʻieikawai.

In more mundane matters, uli can also refer to the act of steering a canoe or a variety of Hawaiian sweet potato.

Source:

• Pukui and Elbert, Hawaiian Dictionary

Please note photos above are from the links below, under the Creative Commons license.

A few weeks ago, I finally took a break from my typical weekend schedule of work, reading, writing, and more reading. When I used to be out in West O‘ahu and needed mental relief, I would head out at high speed on Farrington Highway to Keawa‘ula—commonly known as Yokohama—at the end of the road. There, in relative isolation and peace and quiet, I could watch the setting of the sun in the mythic landscape once walked by Kāne and Hi‘iakaikapoliopele. On a few lucky occasions, I was greeted by koholā, the whales, right at the time of sunset.

Now that I’m right in the middle of Honolulu, it’s a bit harder to find that kind of quiet escape. Luckily, on the day I went out to take a break, I arrived on a mellow day at Kaimana Beach, by the old natatorium and Kapi‘olani Park. The tradewinds, the Moa‘e, were blowing, rustling the leaves of the niu, the coconut trees. As sunset approached, the sky turned to a series of soft pinks and purples. The experience was simply transcendent.

As the sun sank down into the vast ocean, I thought of Kāne and Kanaloa, our two akua, or deities, who had journeyed through the islands of Hawai‘i, opening springs of fresh water and enjoying ‘awa (kava). Interestingly enough, the sun itself is a kinolau (manifestation) of Kāne, known as ka ‘ōnohi o ka lā, “the eyeball of the sun”. And here with the setting of the sun of Kāne into the vast ocean of Kanaloa, the deity of the seas, I witnessed the ephemeral meeting of these two divine companions, a kind of communion that takes place at the end of every day.

After I returned home, I felt the need to find the old name for Kaimana Beach, also known as Sans Souci. According to Place Names of Hawai‘i, the former name of the area in the vicinity was Kapua – “The Flower”. Once a famous surfing spot in times past, it was filled in to make what is now Kapi‘olani Park. While Kapua may not be the precise name, it was a relief to find a name of the past blossom within my mind.

Going through the snapshots that I had taken that afternoon, I was particularly taken aback by the natural gradients of light of the sky at dusk at Kapua. The figurative expression for dusk in Hawaiian, I learned, is ‘ehu ahiahi – “the dust of the evening”, also signifying twilight and old age.

I’ve been hooked to Māori spin doctor Tiki Taane since I first caught a glimpse of his mindblowing video clip “Tangaroa”, off his debut album album Past, Present, Future. For those unfamiliar with Polynesian mythology, Tangaroa is the Māori god of the sea, corresponding to the Hawaiian akua Kanaloa. The track is a shock to the system, combing traditional Māori chant with a raging dancehall-style beat.

Tiki composed “Tangaroa” in response to the 2004 tsunami and humanity’s lack respect for Tangaroa and his ocean realm. In their first collaboration as father son, Uekaha Taane Tinorau, Tiki’s father, composed the following haka, or chant, for Tangaroa, channeling the spirit of Tangaroa as a force for change. (You can read Tiki and Uekaha’s full commentary on “Tangaroa” here on the Tikidub Productions website.)

Ko Papatuanuku me Ranginui nga matua o te ao
I puta mai nga tamariki nga Atua o te ao
He Atua o te moana
Ko Tangaroa he Atua o te moana
Tu mai te ihi
Tu mai te wehiwehi
Tu mai te wanawana e
Hi ha aue

From the divine heartbeat of Mother Earth and the ever-elusive constant of Sky Father
all descend and all ascend the natural world
The timeless current of tranquil stillness
the harmonic music of ones infinite ocean
Resilient are the vital influences of the universe
Stand liberated by the inner radiance
Be still be silent and all shall be revealed

Na Uekaha nga kupu Maori, na Tamiaho te whakapakehatia

Te Moananui aa Kiwa (The Great Ocean of Kiwa), Kanaloa Series by Māori artist Rua Pick

As someone who’s felt a close kinship to the moana, or the ocean, and to Kanaloa, I felt something deep and familiar when I saw “Tangaroa” for the first time. When it seemed so few remembered to honor our god of the sea, here was an homage to the God of the Sea appropriate for our time but based on the past, modern yet grounded in antiquity. In the video, Tiki looks out in the ocean only to see an ancestor appear to him on the shore. How times have I sat facing the sea or going into waves and felt something great, vast, and powerful, beyond the limits of my rational, Western education, knowing that generations past were with me in the waters.

I know that Kanaloa, our manifestation of the ocean deity in Hawai‘i, is alive. I’m always reminded of him when I see the expanse of blue ocean, hear the roar of the surf, or see his kinolau, or body form, such as the mai‘a (banana), the he‘e (squid or octopus), the koholā (whale) and other forms of ocean life.

FOR MORE INORMATION ON KANALOA/TANGAROA

Learn more about Kanaloa/Tangaroa on Blue Coast’s Kanaloa page or in Martha Beckwiths’s Hawaiian Mythology. For more on Tangaroa, Te Ara Encylopedia of New Zealand has developed a beautiful web page, Tangaroa – The Sea.

FOR MORE ON TIKI TAANE

“Tangaroa” was the first single off of Tiki’s debut Past, Present, Future, which you can purchase at the Tikidub shop as a digital download or CD, shipped directly from Aotearoa/New Zealand to you.

A few years ago, when I was living in New York, I had almost entirely forgotten what Makahiki even was until I came across its Māori cousin, Matariki. After having finally purchased my first laptop and joining the modern age, I began to devour everything online that had to do with Polynesia. I had been living in New York for four years during the post-9/11 era and was feeling burnt out. Seeing what my Polynesian cousins were doing with new technology was uplifting and inspiring, making me feel connected to a long genealogy that stretched across the oceans. One particular site of inspiration was Māori Television, all the way from Aotearoa/New Zealand. Seeing a full-fledged, professional Polynesian news broadcast, streamed from thousands of miles away, was amazing.

Around the early summer, the word Matariki appeared on the Māori Television website along with a haunting image of the Pleiades. Also included was a song about Matariki sung in Māori. Matariki is the Māori equivalent of the Hawaiian word Makali‘i, our name for the constellation widely known as the Pleiades. Again, it was powerful to know that a shared tradition was still being maintained and celebration in the Pacific to the point of being a television event.

After I had returned to Hawai‘i in 2007, I had my first direct taste of Makahiki when I was fortunate enough to participate in Hawaiian-langage theatre production. Throughout the play the names of our akua (gods) and kupua (demi-gods) were invoked. Interestingly enough, the evening of our debut in Honolulu was in conjunction with Makahiki. Following that evening’s performance, it was as if the heavens themselves opened with claps of thunder, flashes of lightening, and downpour that made it nearly impossible for me to get home. The presence of the kūpuna, our ancestors, was palpable that evening, perhaps even more so because of their invocation in a space of performance.

As Makahiki had slipped past me in 2008—too many things to do at university, etc., etc.—it feels therefore even more important that I honor it this year. While I may know very little of the cultural protocol and practices, I believe that it is most important to start with the right mindset and ask for the appropriate guidance from the kūpuna. That said, I have no idea how this particular passage of Makahiki will turn out. In any case, it will certainly be a turning point and the beginning of many celebrations for years to come.

One integral part to the crafting process was the mindset one has when making the skirt. Thought and emotions are carried directly into the garment that will be worn. Despite the few hours of sleep I had after cleaning the leaves, I was ready to go the following morning. The freshness of the morning, I’ve realized, is the best time for me to do this kind of work. By the time night comes, my thoughts are too scattered to do anything this concentrated.

As someone who’s accustomed to doing modern Western-style work—reading, writing, etc.—taking on these traditional tasks tends to be nerve-wracking, honestly. My hands aren’t using to working with delicate leaves and often break and shread them. But with this lā‘ī skirt, the process eventually became meditative, after the initial shock to the system. Of course, dancing with an additional twenty pounds was not at all easy, especially when it came time to lift my heels with each ‘uwehe step. Then there was the entirely ephemeral moment of wearing the skirt. Hours of preparation (just like the hours of rehearsing the dances) just for a few minutes beneath the stage lights. A brief glimmer of fresh green before vanishing into the shadows, just as the ho‘i goes….

Ho‘i ē ho‘i lā

Ho‘i ē ka ‘ohu e

I ka uka lehua

A‘o kula manu ē …

 

Returning, returning

The mists return

To the uplands of the lehua

The home of the birds …

Following the end of the competition, we were instructed to keep all of our adornments that we wore. Instead of merely discarding them, the skirt and lei are now drying in the wind. Once any final moisture has dissipated, they will all be burned and turn into ash for dying for hula garments to be created in the future. Hours of labor and effort, of song and dance and memory, reduced into one singular, concentrated color.

Kahi (The Place) : Kualaka‘i, Honouliuli, ‘Ewa, O‘ahu-a-Lua

In a traditional Native Hawaiian perspective, the region now occupied by Kapolei and Kalaeloa (Barbers’ Point) is part of the ahupua‘a of Honouliuli, the largest land division of O‘ahu’s ‘Ewa district. Honouliuli stretches down from the Wai‘anae mountains to Līhu‘e (yes, O‘ahu has one too), the area now occupied by Schofield Barracks, all the way to the Pu‘uloa estuary, now known as Pearl Harbor. The ocean boundary was O’ahu’s southern shore, from Kahe Point to the area near the new Hoakalei development. While much of the Honouliuli region was transformed because of cattle ranching and sugar cane and continues to change from extensive development, we are still fortunate to have access to our kūpuna’s knowledge on the region through their mo‘olelo (stories) and their writings. And by reading their accounts, we can learn of the names of Honouliuli and those who have passed and lived there.

One particular place I have only recently discovered was traditionally known as Kualaka‘i. This is the shoreline area in front of the Barbers Point military base. Once one makes through the former military roads under the hot sun, one discovers the beauty of Kualaka‘i. Two particular stretches of beaches (White Planes and Nimitz) are now known by English names. But let’s return to the name Kualaka’i, which resounds in the legends of time past.

It was through Kualaka‘i that Hi‘iakaikapoliopele, the youngest sibling of Pele, traveled during her time on O‘ahu. It is here that she catches a glimpse of Kaiona, the goddess who dwells upon Mt. Ka‘ala, O‘ahu’s highest points. And it is also at Kualaka‘i—at a particular place called Hilo One—that she joyfully encounters her relative, the goddess Kapo.

This is just a brief glimpse into the story of Kualaka‘i. Of course, the best way to learn about Kualaka‘i is to go there. When the moment is right, one can still sense the presence of Hi‘iaka, she who makes life spring from the barren earth. While the two beach parks tend to be crowded with families and surfers, the stretch in front of the park tends to be quieter. Just park your car along the read, walk a few yards, and you’re there. Once on the beach, you have clear views of southern O‘ahu all the way to Le‘ahi (Diamond Head). The ocean is generally too rough for swimming but is popular amongst surfers and fishermen. People have started to leave rubbish, so please help to mālama this place and help discard rubbish on your way out.

DIRECTIONS

To get to Kualaka‘i, head to Kapolei on the H-1. Turn onto Ft. Barrette Road, heading ma kai (towards the ocean). At the entrance into Kalaeloa, you will see a sign pointing to both beaches. Make a left onto Roosevelt Avenue, then make a right onto Coral Sea Avenue. Stay on Coral Sea until you arrive at the water. Park along the side of the road.

FURTHER READINGS

For general information on Honouliuli ahupua‘a, the reference of choice is Sites of O‘ahu from Bishop Museum Press. To get the full experience of Hi‘iaka’s travels through the region, we highly suggest Ho‘oulumāhiehie’s Ka Mo‘olelo o Hi‘iakaikapoliopele and the companion translation, The Epic Tale of Hi‘iakaikapoliopele, translated by Puakea Nogelmeier. Both editions are handsomely bound featuring color illustrations by kanaka maoli artist Solomon Enos. Published by Awaiaulu Press. Both volumes are available from Native Books Hawai‘i.

Many in Hawai‘i are already familiar with makahiki, the period of time that lasts from roughly late October to the end of April. In pre-contact times, makahiki was a time of peace and tranquility, filled with festivities dedicated to the god Lono. But many are not entirely familiar with the other traditional Hawaiian season, kauwela-the word that also corresponds to the Western summer.

A few weeks ago, I attended a ceremony to mark the traditional beginning of Hawaiian summer, kauwela. Directed by the students of the late kumu hula John Lake (his hālau and Nā Wa‘a Lālani Kāhuna o Pu‘u Koholā), the ceremony took place right next to the Waikīkī Aquarium, which was the site of the astronomical heiau Kūpalaha.  Here, kāhuna (priests or cultural experts) watched for the setting at the southern end of the Wai‘anae mountains,over Pu‘u Pāla‘ila‘i and Pu‘uokapolei, the sign that summer had begun. After a series of hula and oli, the ceremony closed with a final chant in timing with the setting of the sun .

According to Sam ʻOhukaniʻōhiʻa Gon III, who led the ceremony, kauwela is the season of Kū, widely known as the god of war. Kū, however, was more multi-faceted and epresented several other functions necessary in life.  While warfare did take place during kauwela, the season was also time for governance, taking action, making critical decisions. Interestingly enough, after a cool, rainy, and often cloudy April, in my observations, the season of Kū started off with a remarkable flash of heat. For the first few days after the ceremony, I noticed the sun set a stunning blood red.

For any of us who live on the leeward side of the islands of Hawai‘i, we are particularly know how hot and uncomfortable kauwela can be. Though it may not compare to the steaming East Coast summers I used to endure – steaming asphalt in the day, 86 degrees at 10 o’clock at night – I can feel the distinct personality of kauwela and the presence of Kū . While I’m accustomed to the Western idea of summer–a time to relax and, metaphorically, check out–I’m coming to appreciate the idea of taking things head on in the midst of the blaze of heat.