HALE MUA: (EN)GENDERING HAWAIIAN MEN
A DISSERTATION SUBMITTED TO THE GRADUATE DIVISION OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF HAWAI'I IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE
REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
IN
ANTHROPOLOGY
AUGUST 2003
By
Ty P. Kawika Tengroy
Dissertation Committee:
Geoffrey M. White, Chairperson
Ben Finney
Christine Yano
Vilsoni Hereniko
Noenoe Silva
© Copyright 2003
by
Ty P. Kawika Tengan
iii
For Kauilaoniilani Kamaka Iaea Tengan
iv
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
There have been so many people that have contributed to this dissertation that I
know I will kick myself later as I recall those names that I have forgotten, and so I must
apologize immediately for any omissions.
First off, mahalo e ke Akua, na 'aumakua, na kini akua, a me na kiipuna for all
guidance, inspiration, fortitude, strength, insight, and infinite blessings given to me
throughout the process of my living, researching, and writing. I wish to thank all of my
family, including the extended family and those I have become a part ofthrough bonds of
marriage and friendship. Thank you especially Grandma Carol and Grandpa George for
watching Kauila and for always making sure we were fed; thank you also for amazing me
with your uncanny ability to procure bananas. Thanks Dad for your support in
everything and for your guidance and advice in matters that you probably did not realize
you were giving them in. Thanks to Grandma Margaret and Grandpa George for making
my visits home just that, and for your constant support and encouragement throughout the
years. Thanks Mom for helping me in every way possible and for all of your selfless love
and sacrifice. Mike, I'd thank you if only there were something to thank you for. Just
kidding. Thanks for reconnecting with the Uchinanchu roots; maybe we can team up for
a future "research" project. Thanks also to Ku'ulei's 'ohana, especially when you were
called on to help watch Kauila (especially Gil and Keahi) or just there to give Ku 'u/Mau
support when I was unable to.
Mahalo to the men of the Hale Mua for opening your homes and hearts to me and
for putting up with my incessant questions and my invasive camera. I apologize to those
of you whom I did not include as as fully I would have liked (or even at all); I hope to
correct this problem in future projects. I also apologize to any of you who feel that I have
v
taken your words out of context or misrepresented you in any other way. I have tried to
depict those elements ofyour mo'olelo that add texture to the larger mo'olelo ofthe Mua,
but in so doing I have included mere fragments of your much fuller life stories and
experiences. I am deeply indebted to all of your for your aloha, kokua, paipai, and
ahonui, and I hope I can return the favor to you in a small way through the sharing of this
mo'olelo with others. Mahalo especially to Sam and Kyle, without whom there would be
no Hale Mua. Mahalo also to those individuals who took the time to read and give me
comments on earlier drafts of the dissertation, and mahalo especially to Keawe for
helping to proofread and edit at the eleventh hour.
Likewise, I would like to thank the larger Maui community, especially those
whose friendship and mentorship I have benefited from enormously over the years.
Mahalo Aunty H6kii, Dana, Isaac, Uncle Les, Manny, Uncle Charlie and others whose
names escape me. Mahalo also to my friends from school, those in the immersion
program, and those at MCC, especially Kaleikoa and Kahele who helped me share my
work with the folks back home in June 2003. E 6 Maui Nui a Kama!
I would also like to thank those individuals and organizations associated with the
Hale Mua, both on Maui and beyond. To Ke'eaumoku Kapu and Na Koa Kau i ka
Meheu 0 Na Kiipuna, keep fighting the good fight. To Na Papa Kanaka 0 Pu'ukohola,
which include Na 'Elemakua, Na Aloali'i, Na Wa'a Lalani Kahuna, Na Koa, and Na
Wahine, mahalo for all of your awesome work. E kala mai if I have any names or dates
wrong in my own history of the events there; any hewa is completely my fault. Mahalo
especially to Kumu Lake for taking the time to talk story with me about Pu'ukohola in
particular, Hawaiian men in general.
I also need to thank those who helped me enter and then finish my graduate
studies at UH. Thanks to my mentors and teachers at St. Anthony, Kamehameha, and
vi
Dartmouth. I was fortunate as an undergraduate to have received the Mellon Minority
Fellowship, which not only supported my undergraduate thesis but has also assisted in the
repayment of my undergraduate loans with my completion of the Ph.D. It was also
through my Mellon-funded research that I made many ofthe connections in the Hawaiian
community that have developed over the years. Much of my doctoral research and
writing was conducted with support of the Ford Foundation Predoctoral Fellowship I was
awarded in 1998. I was also blessed to have received an appointment as a Graduate
Assistant in Anthropology to Dr. Michael Graves that was funded for nearly two years by
the Native Hawaiian Leadership Project (directed by Manu Ka'iama) and another year by
the Department of Anthropology. Mahalo Manu, and mahalo Michael. Through this GA
appointment I came into close association with some outstanding Kfulaka 'Oiwi involved
in a repatriation of iwi kiipuna from Mokapu. I have grown immensely from the
experience. One individual in particular, Linda Kawai'ono Delaney, taught me much
about working for the kiipuna and between parties who hold very different viewpoints.
Her commitment to the kiipuna and to all Kanaka will be remembered always.
I would also like to thank the new friends I have made at UH, especially those
other Hawaiians trying to slug it out through their various programs. I have also made
close connections with kiipuna who have added further to my knowledge ofbeing a
Kanaka Hawai'i and my appreciation for the life experiences of those who lived in
different times. Mahalo especially to Uncle Harry Ka'ano'ilani Fuller and Aunty June
for your aloha and support.
Thanks also to those at the Bishop Museum. My experiences there taught me
much and brought together a surprising number of threads in my life that I did not
foresee.
VII
Thank you to my committee members whose advice and feedback has been
outstanding. Viii, your deification of my work at the defense has already become myth
on Maui as stories ofthe great Polynesian clown prince's celebration circulate like wild
fire among men who have no idea where Rotuma is. Ben, I have enormous respect for all
of your work and am honored that you appreciate mine. Thanks Chris for giving me the
hard questions that no one else could, and though I have not answered them all yet, I have
benefited by hearing them. Thanks Noenoe for kind of being like an aunty though I
know you don't want me to call you that cause it'll make you feel old (at least I'm not
asking you to be in a kupuna lecture series!). Lastly, thanks Geoff for being the ideal
chair and for really helping me to grow in my thinking and scholarship and for always
pointing me in the right direction. Too bad there isn't a Rock and Bowl in Hawai'i, or I
would gladly take you there as my partner.
Finally, mahalo to Ku'ulei and Kauilonalani. You both had to carry some
enormous burdens while I was busy with my work, yet you still supported me and gave
me love as a husband and father. As much as I've learned about being a kane Hawai'i
from the Mua, I've learned much more from the two of you. Thank you for everything. I
will do my best to fulfill my own kuleana in our family, a ho'omau ke aloha a me ka pili
'ohana rna waena 0 kakou.
viii
ABSTRACT
This dissertation examines the intersection of gender and culture in the process of
identity formation among Kanaka 'Oiwi Maoli (Indigenous Hawaiian) men in the Hale
Mua 0 Maui. Throughout the neocolonial Pacific, indigenous Oceanic men have engaged
in gender practices that historically have had widely different consequences for their
positions of power or marginality; the cases ofHawai'i and Aotearoa/New Zealand offer
important insights into the gendered dynamics of colonialism, decolonization, and
reclamation. Focusing in on a deeper history of colonization and revitalization at
Pu'ukohoHi heiau (Kawaihae, Hawai'i), I highlight the ways in which the birth of a newly
gendered tradition of bravery and warriorhood in Nii Koa (The Courageous Ones) led to a
reconsideration of men's roles in different sectors of the Hawaiian community. One
outcome was the formation of the Hale Mua, or the "Men's House," on the island of
Maui. Against the legacy of American colonialism and its concomitant discourses of
death, disappearance, feminization, and domestication, the Hale Mua has endeavored to
build strong, culturally grounded men that will take up their kuleana (rights and
responsibilities) as members oftheir 'ohana (families) and the larger liihui (nation). In
particular, I examine the role of discursive and embodied practices ofritual, performance,
and narrative in the transformation, (re)definition, and enactment of their subjectivities as
Hawaiian men. The processes through which the members ofthe group come to define,
know, and perform these kuleana articulate with the larger projects of cultural
revitalization, moral regeneration, spiritual/bodily healing, national reclamation, and the
uncertain and ambiguous project of mental and political decolonization. Likewise, the
very writing of this dissertation has fore-grounded both the possibilities and problematics
of conducting indigenous anthropology and research at home.
IX
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Acknowledgements v
Abstract.. ix
List of Figures xiii
Preface xvi
Chapter 1: Introduction: Lele I Ka Po 1
Into the Po 3
Into the Po(stcolonial) 5
Cultural identity, masculinities and nationalism in Hawai'i 7
Discursive practices of culmre, history, nation and gender 14
Discursive battlegrounds 21
Outline 26
Endnotes 29
Chapter 2: Va Ao Ka Po: Dawnings OfPeople 30
Mo'olelo 0 ka hale mua: the hale mua in myth and history 31
Ke ao hou: transformations ofPo and pono 35
Mai ka Po mai: from the Po .42
Endnotes 46
Chapter 3: (En)Gendering Colonialism: Masculinities In Hawai'i And The Pacific .. 47
Theorizing masculinities in the Pacific .49
En-gendering men in the Pacific 52
Colonizing masculinities in Hawai'i and the Pacific 54
Military, sports, and masculinities 64
Conclusion: decolonizing masculinities? 76
Endnotes 79
Chapter 4: Mo'olelo 0 Pu'ukohoHi: Re-Membering Nationhood And Koa At The
Temple Of State 81
Mo'olelo: history and identity in Hawai'i and the Pacific 88
Mo'ole10 koa: narrating nation, courage and warriorhood 91
Mo'olelo 0 Pu'ukohol1i: historical battlegrounds, battlegrounds ofhistory 98
Ho'oku'ikahi: commemorating, re-membering and unifying the 11ihui 112
Conclusion: living histories re-membered 124
Endnotes 130
Chapter 5: Pu'ukohol1i: At The Mound OfThe Whale 136
Ritual, body and history in Ho'oku'ikahi 139
x
Enter Na Koa 149
Na Koa 0 ka Hale Mua: the courageous ones of the men's house 155
Pu'ukohola 1999 158
Thursday Evening Halawai 164
Ha'ule Lani 168
Workshops 170
Afternoon'Awa Ceremony 171
•Aikapu 173
'Aha Ho'ola'a Ali·i 174
'Awa maika'i 179
Pu'ukohola Cultural Festival 180
International •Awa Cermony 181
'Aha ·Aina 183
Pa·ina 185
Sunday Departure 186
On not being a pageant 188
Endnotes 196
Chapter 6: Ka I Mua-Cast Forward/Into The Mua 199
Na koa 0 Maui: The Courageous ones of Maui 206
Hale Mua 0 Maui: The Men's House of Maui.. 215
Architecture of the Hale Mua 224
Hana kalai: shaping identity, making your world 230
Kii rising: reinvigorating the masculine 238
Ho'oikaika kino: strengthening and embodying identity 245
Conclusion: challenges 255
Endnotes 260
Chapter 7: Narrating Kanaka: Life Stories, Place And Identity 261
Mo'olelo: life stories in succession 264
"You belong here" 269
A succession of interviews 276
"Our local anthropologist" 279
In search of the eyes ofHema 282
Replanting keiki 292
Ka i mua-thrust into the Mua 305
Conclusion: life stories, place, and identity 328
Endnotes 329
xi
Chapter 8: Conclusion: Ho'i r Ka PO-Return To The Po 330
He kuahu ka Hale Mua: the prayers of men 332
On being real 342
Glossary Of Hawaiian Words 346
Literature Cited 359
Xli
LIST OF FIGURES
R~hF
1. The Pacific Islands xviii
2. Eight main islands of Hawaiian archipelago xix
3. Map ofMaui xx
4. Peter Vanderpoel at 1998 Annexation March in Honolulu 42
5. Old Lahaina LU'au #1 58
6. Old Lahaina LU'au #2 58
7. Duke Kahanamoku U.S. Postal Stamp 58
8. Duke Kahanamoku Statue in WaikikL. 58
9. Cadets of Kamehameha School, c. 1920s 66
10. Pfc. Herbert Pilila'au 67
11. Sfc. Rodney Yano 67
12. Chris Brown sports new logo 73
13. ViIi "the Warrior" and Ricky Williams at Pro Bowl 73
14. Site plan of Pu'ukohola Heiau NHS 82
15. Conjectural drawing of Pu'ukohola 98
16. Illustration of Sam Ka'ai and Na Koa, 1991 123
17. Ho'oku'ikahi, 1997 124
18. Hale Mua at Pu'ukohoHi, 2001 136
19. Awaiting the Hokiile'a in Hana, Maui, 1997 150
20. Kona Airport, 1999 159
21. Spencer Park Pavilion, 1999 159
22. Men's Lua Workshop, 1999 159
xiii
~~Pm
23. Women's lua workshop, 1999 159
24. Hula workshop, 1999 159
25. Oli workshop, 1999 159
26. First timers of Mua, 1999 160
27. 'Awaceremony, 1999 160
28. Mua below heiau, 1999 160
29. Pu'ukohoHiheiau, 1999 160
30. Papa 'AkauAloali'i, 1999 160
31. Spectators, 1999 160
32. Wahine 0 Pu'ukohola, 1999 161
33. Halau hula, 1999 161
34. Elama Farm chants, 1999 161
35. Aloali'i, 1999 161
36. Martin Martinson, 1999 '" 161
37. Kyle Niikiinelua, 1999 161
38. Pu'ukohola Heiau National Historic Site Park Map, 1999 162
39. Na Koa and Hale Mua at Spencer Park Pavilion, 2000 164
40. Hale Mua prepared for Ke Kaua Mau 'Ai, 1999 '" 177
41. Moloka'i Ku'i, 1999 177
42. Image from Calendar...........................................................................•...... 188
43. Ritz-Carlton Panel, 2002 190
44. Wehe KIT, 2002 199
45. Hale Mua at Pu'ukoholii, 2001 205
46. Nakiinelua and Ke'eaumoku at Pu'ukoholii, 1997 211
xiv
Figure Page
47. Hale Mua at Pihanakalani and Haleki'i, 2002 215
48. Kamana'opono Crabbe, Rick Bissen, Keawe'aimoku Kaholokula, 2002 229
49. Sam Ka'ai in Pukalani workshop, 2002 229
50. Hale Mua on Pihanakalani, Wehe Kii, 2002 237
51. Peter Vanderpoel shares mo'olelo, Haleki'i, 2002 237
52. Kiikona Lopes and Jacob Kana, Hale Nanea, 2002 244
53. Practice at Hale Nanea, 2002 244
54. Canoe Dream 345
xv
PREFACE
E na kupa 0 ka 'aina, mai ka hikina a ka Ia i Ha'eha'e a i ka mole 0 Lehua, aloha
maio I humbly offer up this mo'olelo to the Lahui 'Qiwi and hope that it leads to a deeper
discussion of some of the issues facing our people. I also hope it clarifies some of the
confusion among non-Hawaiians who seek a deeper understanding of what it means to be
a Hawaiian today, especially from the viewpoint of a kane. Though I do not claim to
have even come close to capturing the diversity of views and lives that make up the
Kanaka Maoli community, I do feel that the tiny fragment I have presented speaks to
much of what is going on with us today.
Above all, I have tried to present stories that give complexity and depth to what
has typically been a shallow understanding of contemporary Hawaiians, at least as far as
academia goes. In doing so, I have tried to present interview transcripts as close to the
spoken form as was possible without creating too much difficulty in reading. Thus there
are parts of speech that others may have omitted (e.g., "th--the" and "urn, uh"). At the
same time, I have not included every single utterance produced, for I am not a
conversation analyst. However, I have tried to contextualize the interview segments as a
part of a dialogue between two people (or more), and so I provide the context for the
excerpts and try to include my own speech when applicable (though I have not included
my own verbal cues of "mm hmm" or "yeah," which would become unwieldy). I have
also italicized words that were given extra or special emphasis in speech.
A more difficult problem that I did not find a satisfactory solution for was the
handling ofHawai'i Creole English (HCE), commonly referred to as "Pidgin" (though
most people today actually speak a creole). Emerging from the plantation camps and the
need to communicate across language barriers, Pidgin has become a marker of"local"
XVI
(typically non-white) identity for people who were raised in Hawai'i. As such, it has
acquired a number of different valuations, many of them negative (e.g., Pidgin as
"broken" or "bad" English) (Sato 1991; Tamura 1996). However, Pidgin is a legitimate
language and a number of scholars and writers have put enormous effort into validating
and maintaining its integrity (Da Pidgin Coup 1999; Hargrove, et al. n.d.). Most of the
men I spoke to used Pidgin to varying degrees, as is reflective of the HCE continuum
today (Sato 1993). Yet it was precisely this variation, as well as my own unfamiliarity
with established Pidgin orthographies that made it difficult for me put Pidgin into writing.
For those that primarily spoke Standard English, it was not a major issue. However, for
those that spoke Pidgin, I used an "eye dialect" spelling approach, which is a modified
English writing system (the altemate is the "Odo orthography" which is a phonetic
spelling system). Yet even in my use of the eye dialect, I have not been consistent and
have not represented accurately all of the vocalizations and sounds that are distinct to
Pidgin. It is not my intention to present the Pidgin transcripts as examples of broken
English, though I understand it may appear as such in comparison to other transcripts that
are predominantly Standard English. In retrospect, I should have taken more time to
learn the various writing styles in use by Pidgin writers and scholars, especially since the
Charlene J. Sato Center for Pidgin, Creole and Dialect Studies has been operational at
UH Manoa since January 2002. Unfortunately I did not, though in the future I intend to
utilize such resources.
Finally, a word on the 'olelo Hawai'i is in order. I do not italicize Hawaiian
because it is not a foreign language. In the body ofthe dissertation, I usually only define
a word once in parentheses and leave it undefined upon its second usage (though there
are a few exceptions). As such, I have provided a glossary at the end for those who are
unfamiliar with the 'olelo Hawai'i; most words (though not all) are defined there.
xvii
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CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTION: LELE I KA pO
o ke au i ka huli wela ka honua
o ke au i kahuli lole ka lani
o ke au i kukaiaka ka la
E hoomalamalama i ka malama
o ke au 0 Makalii ka po
o ka walewale hookumu honua ia
o ke kumu 0 ka lipo, i lipo ai
o ke kumu 0 ka Po, i po ai
o ka lipolipo, 0 ka lipolipo
o ka lipo 0 ka la, 0 ka lipo 0 ka po
Po wale hoi
Hanaukapo
Hanau Kumulipo i ka po, he kane
Hanau Poele i ka po, he wahine
At the time when the earth became hot
At the time when the heavens turned about
At the time when the sun was darkened
To cause the moon to shine
The time of the rise of the Pleiades
The slime, this was the source of the earth
The source of the darkness that made darkness
The source of the night that made night
The intense darkness, the deep darkness
Darkness of the sun, darkness of the night
Nothing but night
The night gave birth
Born was Kumulipo in the night, a male
Born was Poele in the night, a female!
I stand on the precipice and my world spins as the ocean crashes into the jagged
rocks sixty feet below me. I am surrounded by people both living and not, and the pillars
holding up the heavens call to us. I hear the voices of women behind me chanting and
the explosions ofmen landing in the water below me. I call out to my ancestors to give
me the strength, the courage, and the mana to jump into the Po to be with them again,
even though I am not entirely sure what that will mean. All sounds and sights freeze as
my feet leave the edge and I fall...falL..falL..
I
From a seventh floor balcony of the Sheraton Maui, a man zooms in with his
digital video camera to record the Hawaiians jumping offof Black Rock. He thinks again
ofwhat a great deal he got with the "Elements of Romance" package. For just $775.00 a
person, he and his wife have stayed three nights in an ocean view room, eaten under the
stars, and watched from their sunset catamaran cruise as a young Hawaiian boy wearing
nothing more than a loincloth performed a similar "ceremonial cliffdive" yesterday. It
seems that half of the guys jumping today are a bit too old and out of shape to be so
scantily clad, but that's okay, the guys back home will get a kick out of this anyway...
The crowd assembles on the beach for the closing ceremonies. They came from
all over Maui and beyond to participate in the Kij'e 'Elua: Keepers of Aloha March from
Uihainii to Ka'anapali in protest of the current lawsuits seeking to end all Native
Hawaiian entitlements and programs. Five hundred men, women, and children of all ages
gathered at Moku'ula, a former residence of Kauikeaouli Kamehameha III that is now
being restored. Tourists peaked out ofthe gift shops on Front Street as the procession
made its way through a town that is now known more for its raucous Halloween
celebrations than its longer history as a center ofHawaiian political power. Local
residents waved and cheered as a river ofHawaiian flags and purple ribbons honoring
Queen LiIi'uokalani swept by their houses. The marchers chanted "I Kii Mau Mau"
(stand together/forever) and "Kii'e!" (Stand apart/resist) on the streets, beaches, and hotel
walkways until they finally reached Pu'u Keka'a. They watched as two groups ofNli
Koa, one from Lahaina and one from Kahului, performed ha'a (ritual dances) and then
proceeded to the top ofthe 60 foot promontory for the "Lele i ka Po" ("Leap into the
Heavens"), a cliffdive in honor ofthe 18th century Maui high chiefKahekili, an ali'i
known for his expertise in the sport. The act was made even more significant as Pu'u
Keka'a is also a leina, a place where the souls ofthe dead return to leap into the realm of
2
the ancestors. On this fourth day ofMarch 2001, the people gather once again to lift up a
prayer for the power and strength that is needed as they find themselves in a familiar fight
for all they have, a future that is their past...
Into the Po
This is a story about Kanaka '<Jiwi Maol? (indigenous Hawaiian) men jumping
into the P5--the darkness, the night, the realm of the gods. In the cosmogonic chant
Kumulipo, the PO represents the time that the world was created, a time before people
walked the land (Beckwith 1972). It is seen today as a source of empowerment and
guidance for modem Kanaka who seek escape from the constant glow oftheir mass 
mediated lives. Yet it is also a place where people stumble and trip as they grope their
way along in a darkness utterly unfamiliar to them. When the ground disappears from
under their feet, the duration ofthe fall and the impact of the landing is anything but
certain.
This is a mo'olelo (narrative account) of the Hale Mua 0 Maui, a group of Kanaka
men who decided to dive into the darkness at Keka'a. Originally formed as a regiment of
Nil Koa (the courageous ones, the warriors) at the Pu'ukohola heiau ceremonies in the
early 1990s, the group has now taken on the model ofthe men's eating/worship house of
the 'aikapu era and focuses on training 'Oiwi men in Hawaiian cultural practices. In this
dissertation I trace out the historical, political, and cultural milieu in which the Hale Mua
has emerged and continues to be transformed. More importantly, I analyze the gendered
formation of Hawaiian identity and masculinity in the Mua and in the larger context of
the Hawaiian cultural nationalist movement. The Keepers of Aloha March brings into
high relief a number of complex social dynamics: the galvanization ofthe people in
resistance to the continued exertion ofD.S. colonial power; the various strategies of
3
political, cultural, and spiritual re-empowennent rooted in reclamations and practices of
place and space; the assertions and constructions ofidentities within and against
competing discourses ofculture and nation put forth by Kanaka on the one hand, and the
state (e.g., tourism) on the other; and the gendered rebirth of a warrior tradition that itself
is reworking notions of gender and embodied action/perfonnance, especially for men.
Standing in the parking lot ofthe Sheraton Maui, the luxury resort that now stands
on Keka'a and controls access to the pu'u (hill, promontory), spiritual leader Kapono'ai
Molitau addresses the men who are about to jump from the leina. He says that when he
was first asked to come and offer prayers for us, he was a little ambivalent about the
whole thing. He asked himself "Why are you guys doing that? Just because it's the .
'manly' thing to do?" He says that he fmally came to see (or perhaps he was trying to
make everyone else see) that this is not about proving one's manhood, but to honor
Kahekili and to honor our kiipuna, all those elders here today and all our ancestors that
have gone before us. It isn't about showing our koa (bravery, courage) for ourselves, but
showing our koa for the kiipuna.
I have pondered Kapono'ai's words ever since that day. Though he saw the lele
as being more about spiritual dedication than about gender perfonnance, I wonder how
true that held for the men assembled there. Indeed I would argue that culture, place, and
gender are deeply intertwined and cannot be separated from one another. A number of
the men who had gathered there that day have told me in other conversations that
Hawaiian men in general have lost their place and role in society. Often times they
linked this to the loss of the old ways-the religious fonnations, political systems,
cultural practices and relationships to the land that our ancestors knew. With
colonialism, Christianity, and modernization, all of these configurations of
knowledge/power were radically transfonned; some say they were lost to the Po. Many
4
Kanaka Maoli men in the movement(s) today argue that they need to restore these
structures and reclaim their traditional roles and kuleana (rights and responsibilities) as
men; indeed, that was precisely what led to the formation ofthe Hale Mua in the first
place, and what led many ofthese men to lele i kaPo. Thus this jump was every bit as
much about being a man as it was about being Hawaiian, or more specifically, being a
Hawaiian man.
Into the PO<stcolonial)
The central project ofthis dissertation is to describe and theorize the ways in
which individuals create meaningful identities, and how these identities are themselves
productive of new social practices and relations. 1am especially concerned with the
possibilities and problematics these identities hold for social and political change, a
reflection of my commitment to intervene in the structures of domination that persist in
Hawai'i and throughout the "post-colonial" world. This dissertation also seeks to create a
space in which various theories, methodologies, politics, and cultural productions of
indigeneity and anthropology articulate new forms ofknowledge and understanding of
socio-cultural processes.
Indeed, current political and cultural developments demand more than ever new
ways of understanding the world. Both inside and outside anthropology, there is much
talk about the uncertainty ofthe current historical moment. The theme ofthe 2002
annual meetings of the American Anthropological Association, "(Un)Imaginable
Futures," indicates the perils and possibilities that anthropologists and indeed all people
face when trying to make sense of a world characterized by war, global commodity
flows, unequal access to and distribution of technological innovations, and the dissolution
of nation-states into trans- and sub-national collectivities.
5
At the same time, a renewed patriotic nationalism pervades the U.S. in response to
the events of9/11, evidence that older models ofmasculinist nation-state power 
epitomized in Bruce Willis's heroic struggles against the world's most deadly terrorists 
"die hard." When Bush moved to war with Iraq, Hawaiian warriors were once again
called to serve their nation. Militarized masculinities were formed in this jingoistic
discourse, and Kanaka men (and women) found themselves in contradictory positions as
foot soldiers in a war to reaffmn and reassert American colonial power, the same power
that Hawaiians have been fighting since 1893.
This rna'olelo is my own personal narration ofa history being rewritten by many,
a story ofthe struggle people face when trying to at once reconnect with, recreate, and
defend traditions and other sources oflife and identity. Inundated by the images and
gazes produced by the tourist apparatus, challenged by groups that seek to take all
Hawaiian lands and resources, and burdened by the need to maintain indigenous practices
and knowledge in an ever expanding web of transnational capital and the violence it
(en)genders, 'Oiwi Maoli today often feel like they are falling into an eternal night.
Yet with every Po, there is an Ao, a time of day, light, and life. It is with the hope
for a new day and a new era of Kiinaka that the people give themselves to the Po. There
they reinvigorate a mana that exists in all, in its many gendered, classed, and racialized
forms. This mo'olelo is an exploration into the P6(stcolonial) space of the Hawaiian
cultural nationalist movement, a space in which 'Oiwi Maoli incorporate ancestral
knowledge practices into projects ofre-empowerment in the world ofneo-colonial global
capitalism. Ifnothing else, I seek to shed just a little light onto the darkness, and some
darkness into the light.
6
Cultural identity, masculinities, and nationalism in Hawai'i
In this dissertation I explore the ways in which the meanings of being a Hawaiian
man are (re)defined and enacted in the Hale Mua, Against the legacy ofcolonialism and
its concomitant discourses of death and disappearance, the Hale Mua has endeavored to
build strong, culturally grounded men that will take up their kuleana as members of their
'ohana (families) and the larger Kanaka 'Oiwi Maoli community. The processes through
which the men ofthe group come to define, know, and perform these kuleana articulate
with the larger projects of cultural revitalization, moral regeneration, spiritua1/bodily
healing, national reclamation, and the uncertain and ambiguous project of mental and
political decolonization.
In Hawai'i, attempts to reconnect with and to reassert a Maoli-a "real,"
"authentic"--cultural and political identity have been closely tied to issues ofgender,
class, race, place, and spirituality, to name a few. While all of these are central to
understanding subject and identity formation in Hawai'i, I focus primarily on the ways
that discourses ofnationalism, decolonization, revitalization, and reclamation produce
new subjectivities of culture and gender, and how agents, particularly Hawaiian men,
actively take up and rework these positions.
One ofthe primary discursive formations I explore is that of the "emasculated
Hawaiian male," a gendered discourse that links colonization and modernization with the
loss ofland, tradition, authenticity, culture, and power, most pronouncedly for men. This
discourse is produced on a number of levels, and for various ends. As a number of
feminist scholars have shown, the touristic commodification of culture and land in
Hawai'i proceeds most notably (and profitably) through the marketing of a feminized and
eroticized image of the islands as the "hula girl"; meanwhile, men are either completely
erased from the picture, relegated to the background as the musicians for the female
7
dancers, or portrayed in similarly sexualized fashion as the "surfer," "beach boy," or
"Polynesian fire-knife dancer" whose body and physical prowess are highlighted in an
economy ofpleasure (Desmond 1999; Ferguson and Tumbulll999; Trask 1993b). A
recent example of such a figure in film is the character of David Kawena in Walt
Disney's Lilo and Stitch (2002). Clumsy, awkward, and generally unimportant to the
plot, David's only redeeming quality is that he knows how to surf, "hang loose" and earn
his keep as a fire-knife dancer (though a hopelessly inept one until the very last scene of
the movie, at which point he finally manages to avoid setting himself on fire).
Alternatively, movies such as North Shore (1988) and Blue Crush (2002) and the
reality TV show Boarding House: North Shore (2003) represent Hawaiian male surfers as
irrational and senselessly ruthless (Walker 2003), depictions that are understood by the
viewing audience not as assertions ofagency and resistance to colonial incursions (cf.
Ishiwata 2002) but rather as evidence of the innate savagery and violence ofnative men
and the threat they pose to the touristic order (Tsai 2003). These images articulate with
another discourse of emasculation that posits Hawaiian men as unable to survive in the
modem world and instead trapped in a cycle of substance abuse, violence, and criminal
activity.
Nunes and Whitney (1994) articulate this view in a Honolulu magazine article
entitled "The Destruction of the Hawaiian Male." Keone Nunes, a Hawaiian man
renowned as an instructor of hula and practitioner ofkakau (tattoo), and Scott Whitney, a
haole (white) freelance writer known for his controversial pieces on Hawaiian culture,
argue that "Hawaiian men have been marginalized and disempowered by the loss of their
own place in the traditional culture" and that "Hawaiian men have suffered the most"
(Nunes and Whitney 1994:43). Though I have not seen many responses in print, people
have told me in conversation that the authors were severely criticized for some of the
8
views they expressed, especially those that seemed to implicate Hawaiian women as a
part ofthe problem. Others thought the essay accurately reflected the reality ofHawaiian
men's situation today and supported its assertion that our modem society would "benefit
from the re-examination of maoJi wisdom about the roles ofmen and women" (p.60).
PUlama Collier (2002) argues that this holds true in her study of the role of male teachers
in the Hawaiian language immersion program on Maui, three of whom she observed
enacting a specifically Hawaiian cultural and gendered mode ofrelating to the male
students; this dynamic was typically absent in the immersion classroom where 81 % ofthe
teachers were women (Collier 2002:12).
Personally, I find certain claims made by Nunes and Whitney questionable, such
as the correlation they draw between Hawaiian women's supposedly superior facility
with foreign "ways" and their "head start" in leaming about western currencies, banks,
retail goods, prisons, courts and hospitals as a result of the "sex trade" (p.60). More
importantly, the attempt to reclaim traditional gender roles is problematic on a number of
levels. First, we need to ask how "traditional" roles are defined, by whom, and for what
purposes (Hoskins 2000). Gender scholars have also critiqued the very premises of "sex
role theory" (Messner 1998). Connell (1995:26) argues:
In sex role theory, action (the role enactment) is linked to a structure defined by a
biological difference, the dichotomy ofmale and female-not to a structure
defined by social relations. This leads to categoricalism, the reduction of gender
to homogenous categories, betrayed by the persistent blurring of sex differences
with sex roles.
Another major problem with sex role theory is that it does not require an analysis of
power and the ways in which masculinity is formed as a process, not merely a set of
norms that one does or does not internalize (Connell 1995:25).
9
On the other hand, ancestral knowledge can provide a powerrul tool for
addressing contemporary problems; and having been a part ofthe immersion community
that Collier described, I can attest to the importance of Hawaiian male role modeling for
the adolescent boys I taught, some of whom came from broken homes and experienced
violence regularly outside of my classroom. It was also important that I contest dominant
images ofHawaiian men, for as Nunes and Whitney cogently layout, numerous
discourses of health, education, crime, history, and tourism incessantly speak to and
actively create the "destruction ofthe Hawaiian male" through a dizzying array of
representations.
Local popular, literary and scholarly depictions ofHawaiian men often highlight
the negative stereotypes associated with the ills ofcolonization: high incidences of
suicide, incarceration, and domestic, alcohol, and drug abuse, disturbing health and life
expectancy statistics, and poor job and academic accomplishment (Blaisdell and Mokuau
1994; Crabbe 1997; Kamau'u 1998; Trask 1984). Within the Hawaiian community,
many have noted the strong leadership of Kanaka women in the fields of politics,
scholarship, literature, education, arts, dance, and other cultural productions
(Kame'eleihiwa 1999; Kauanui 1998; Trask 1993a). While men have also held
prominent positions of leadership in these areas, feminist scholars such as Trask criticize
them for their patriarchal and misogynistic brand of activism (Trask 1984; Trask and
Leung 1996) and their political collaborations in the power structures of the colonial state
(Trask 1993a:118-123). While such representations ofHawaiian men are based in a
reality experienced by many, they obscure the numerous instances in which Hawaiian
men have been successful (however one defines "success"). I do, however, argue that
such discourses are productive of a socially emasculated and ineffectual Hawaiian male
subjectivity, and that these ideas exert pervasive influence in public consciousness.
10
A number ofKanaka Maoli artists and performers have wrestled with this issue
explicitly through their work. Mahealani Kamau'u, a poet and director ofthe Native
Hawaiian Legal Corporation, has poignantly written about the violence and incarceration
of Hawaiian men, as well as their effects on the family, which she knows from personal
experience (Hartwell 1996:173-191; Kamau'u 1996; 1998; 2002). In a newspaper article
on Native Hawaiian inmates (Meskin 1997), Kamau'u stated
The things we value are emasculating our men. They don't have a place anymore,
the way they fit into society is being redefined. In more traditional societies men
can be warriors, but it means different things in modem society (cited in Marshall
1999:264).
In Kiimau A 'e, playwright Alani Apio explores the possibilities and implications of
forming a nationalist warrior masculinity through the transformation of Michael
Mahekona, a young 'Diwi man whose time in prison was spent learning about the
sovereignty movement from activist "educators" visiting Hawaiian imnates. Upon his
release, he expresses his frustration to his cousin's haole wife, "Lisa, I tell you, all ouwa
warriors stay in jail. Hard for rebuild da nation when the warriors' behind bars" (Apio
1998:10-11). Ernie Cruz, Jr., Hawai'i Academy ofRecording Arts 2002 Male Vocalist
ofthe Year, echoes this concern in his widely popular song "Where are the Brothers,"
written by Emelle Downs. Calling all kane (men) to join the struggle for sovereignty, he
sings, ''Too many brothers fIll our jails, live their lives in hopeless helll You must think
first and do right, we need you all to win this fight" (Cruz 2001).
These calls for a renewed Hawaiian warriorhood are heavily gendered ones.
Though women warriors have stepped forward as well, I would argue that the "call to
arms" is directed specifically at Hawaiian men. This is part ofa larger discourse of
reclamation and re-masculinization that ties claims of cultural and political re-
11
empowerment to the reclamation oftraditional male roles and practices. At the risk of
oversimplification, I would tentatively characterize some ofthe main traits of this new 
old Hawaiian masculinity as strong, healthy, heterosexual, working or middle-class,
between 20 and 50 years old, possessing "local" Hawaiian sensibilities, styles and looks,
educated and/or knowledgeable in some "cultural" practice, non-violent to women and
children, providing for one's family, respectful of one's elders, having a tangible
relationship with the land and/or sea, exhibiting spiritual facilities and mana, and ready to
fight for the people-a modem-day warrior chief. Many ofthese qualities obviously
apply to both genders, and thus speak as much to the formation of Hawaiian personhood
and maturity as it does masculinity. It is also not my intention here to reify a "model of
masculinity;" rather, I wish to highlight some ofthe terms and ideals employed in
discourse by Hawaiian men I have interviewed and others I know.
Just as kane are being implored to be more "Hawaiian," so too are Kanaka
practices being made more "manly." Counter to the feminizing discourse oftourism,
which draws upon and reproduces the image of the hula maiden, the nationalist discourse
articulates more "masculine" traditions such as the lua (bone-breaking martial art), koa
(warriorhood), ha'a, kakau, 'awa (kava) drinking, and heiau (temple) rituals. Though by
no means inherently the sole province of men, kane have come to dominate these spheres
and figure them as masculine (which itself may be more indicative of Western views on
masculinity than indigenous ones).
Many ofthese practices have been heavily influenced by, ifnot directly borrowed
from, other Polynesian traditions; foremost among them are the Maori ofAotearoa/New
Zealand, whose resistance to settler colonialism has inspired many Hawaiians. Hawaiian
language instructor and scholar Leilani Basham notes that Kanaka Maoli have modeled
certain revitalization projects, especially those of language and ritual greetings, after
12
Maori traditions precisely because the latter represent a strong, vibrant, and living culture
that was able to survive colonization in ways that Hawaiian ones could not (Basham
2003; See also Wong 2002). Moreover, strength becomes gendered as masculine and
coupled with authenticity, by both men and women alike. Kihei Nahale-a, a musician
and Hawaiian language instructor at Hilo Community College, related to me an
experience in which a group of Hawaiian language teachers returned from a trip to New
Zealand. One ofthe women in the group was so impressed with the strength and ferocity
of Maori greeting ceremonies that she told KIhei, "You Hawaiian men need to be more
like them!" (Nahale-a 2002). Here we see the ways in which gendered discourses of
nation and culture that operate in colonial projects often reproduce themselves in anti 
colonial ones: masculinity is identified with the "strong" and "authentic"
-MaoriJMaoli- traditions ofprecolonial Polynesian society that were able to resist the
perceived death, weakening, feminization and emasculation colonization exacted on
Hawaiian culture. As Harper (I996:ix) notes in regards to Black men, claims to an
"authentic" identity "are largely animated by a profound anxiety about the status
specifically of African-American masculinity." At least for some Kanaka Maoli, these
anxieties are resolved by reconnecting with the masculinity oftheir ancestors and their
Polynesian brothers.
However, these same ideologies of gendered power and authority have come
under heavy critique by indigenous wahine (women) from Hawai'i and New Zealand
(Hoskins 2000; Trask 1984; Trask and Leung 1996). In their view, the articulation of
masculine power and authority with sovereignty and self-determination represents a
double-colonization for indigenous women as both white society and their own men work
to marginalize them. They highlight the need to recognize that assertions ofpatriarchy
reproduce the same structures of oppression and hierarchy that disempower individuals
13
along the lines ofrace, class, gender, sexuality, age, body, and so forth. However,
statements such as "male leaders in our movement...are not the most visible, the most
articulate, nor the most creative" and are more likely to "sell out" than women are (Trask
1993a:23) often evokes such a visceral and emotional reaction that men do not hear the
important feminist insights of the critique. Instead, these discourses often evoke
masculinist ones that go beyond the level of "men need to do their part" to the extreme of
"men need to reclaim their rightful places as the leaders and women need to take a back
seat."
Taking such feminist critiques seriously, I explore what it means to reclaim a
Hawaiian masculinity, in whose interests such projects are carried out, and which
individuals benefit and how. Through critical reflection and auto/ethnographic work, I
seek to move beyond conjecture and examine in close detail the ways in which these
gendered dynamics ofculture and nation are worked out on the ground.
Discursive !1ractices of culture, history, nation and gender
In this dissertation, I look especially at how discourses of culture, history, nation
and gender are inscribed, embodied, and reworked in the discursive practices of the Hale
Mua. Recent theorists have examined the cultural bases and structures offeeling that
make nationalism such a powerfully "imagined community" (Anderson 1991; Bhabha
1990; Hutchinson 1987; Smith 1991). Discourses of the nation and national belonging
reconstitute subjects along such lines as culture (Anderson 1991; Dominguez 1992),
gender and sexuality (Enloe 1990; Parker, et al. 1992), race/ethnicity, class, and place
(Gupta and Ferguson 1997; Morley and Chen 1996); these actors in turn take up and
transform identities in ways that highlight the fluidity and creativity ofidentity formation.
For the Hale Mua, and for other groups engaging in similar projects within the Kanaka
14
Maoli and other indigenous movements, the re-membering of the 'Oiwi selfand society
proceeds through the reconnection with and retelling of mo'olelO--legends, histories,
personal stories, and narrative accounts of events. The group does this on numerous
levels by: contesting the dominant narratives ofneo-colonialism, modernity, and global
capitalism; re-membering lahui (collectivity as a people/nation) through the
commemoration and reliving ofindigenous histories; carrying out rituals practices that
(re)utilize, (re)consecrate, and (re)create sacred sites/spaces; embodying the stories and
legends ofthe ancestors in dance and martial arts while also rewriting and reforming the
body as a site ofpersonal and collective strength; and reforming subjectivities through
the telling and hearing oflife stories that are shared in ceremonies, weekly meetings, and
in the interviews I conducted as member, group historian, and university anthropologist.
In theorizing the production ofmasculinities in the Hawaiian movement, I am
especially concerned with the ways in which particular visions and ideals ofwhat it
means to be a "proper" or "successful" man are being reworked, for these figurations
work to naturalize and maintain systems of gendered, raced, and class-based oppression
and domination. Many theorists influenced by Gramscian-Marxist feminist theory have
examined the ways in which "hegemonic masculinities" (those dominant ideals of what
men should be and how they should act) legitimate patriarchal structures and subordinate
femininities and other "marginalized masculinities" along the multiple lines ofetlmicity,
race, class, property, age, sexuality, the nation, and so on (Connell 1995; Cornwall and
Lindisfame 1994).
While these constructs are useful in highlighting the power dynamics ofgender,
one needs to be careful not to reify them. Hegemonic masculinities and subaltern
masculinities should not be seen as two homogenous and discreet productions that are
separated by distinct boundaries. To do so would be,to replicate the debilitating
15
dichotomies upon which colonial hegemonies and authority rest, as well as to miss the
complexities of what actually takes place "on the ground." We need to see gendered
social actors as complexly situated, located, and positioned in multiple settings and
contexts. In so doing, we can attend to the ways in which men and women have access to
different points ofprivilege and subordination through such positionings (Anzaldilua
1987; Haraway 1991; Sandoval 1991). We must remember that hegemonies are always
incomplete, allowing interplay between structure and agency-an interplay that involves
and transforms indigenous ideologies ofgender and power. Such an approach to
hegemonic power relations allows us to explore the ways in which men and women who
are complexly situated in multiple contexts can draw upon dominant gender constructs
for contradictory and even subversive purposes.
In theorizing Hawaiian masCUlinities, I analyze the ways in which cultural and
gendered formations emerge through discursive practices, both at the macro-social level
of power-laden institutions that produce "regimes of truth" (Foucault and Gordon 1980;
Foucault and Rabinow 1984), as well as the micro-level where agents internalize,
reproduce and transform these orders through everyday practice (Bourdieu 1977; Certeau
1984). Elliston (1997) employs such an approach in her study of gender and nationalism
in Tahiti. Rather than relying on an "identity" construct which leaves unexamined a
problematic theory of subjectivity, she develops a "discursive practices of difference"
analytic. She explains:
I mean, on the one hand, the ideological and symbolic differences which
people elaborate and use (cultural difference, for example, or gender
difference) and, on the other hand, the social practices in and through
which those differences are instantiated, given meaning, and rendered
socially persuasive....The construct "discursive practices" references the
16
dynamic, dialectic, and productive relationship which holds between, on
the one hand, the material practices through which life is lived and, on the
other hand, the ideologies which people deploy to explain, contest, and
reshape the practices through which they live their lives (Elliston
1997:14).
Similarly, reflecting a broad tum in cultural anthropology toward discourse-centered
approaches, the Discursive Practices group of the University of Hawai'i at Manoa
Depattrnent ofAnthropology argue that discourse is productive of social realities,
emerging in social action in which cultural meanings are evaluated and negotiated
(Anthropology). In chapter 3 I look at the more dominant discourses of gender and
identity, especially as produced in the military and sports, that indigenous men find
themselves situated in.
Discursive practices of gender are relational, fluid, and historically contingent
processes that are (re)defmed and embodied in social interaction (Cornwall and
Lindisfame 1994; Lamphere, et al. 1997b). By embodied, I mean to highlight the ways
in which bodies are inscribed by discourse and themselves produce meanings and ideas
through performance and action. I find Connell's notion of "body-reflexive practices"
useful for it sees bodies as "both objects and agents ofpractice, and the practice itself
forming the structures within which bodies are appropriated and defmed" (Connell
1995:61). The discursive processes ofwhich I speak-those related to ideas, language,
texts, knowledge, and representations-are understood, experienced, and produced in
very important and immediate ways in and through the body. Likewise, bodily processes
produce new forms ofknOWledge that exist and work in ways that both complement and
go beyond the contemporary understandings ofculture as discourse (Famelll999). As I
show in chapter 6, it is this quality ofembodied discursive action-the active
17
signification, enactment, and production of identities through bodily movements and
engagements-that makes groups such as the Hale Mua such potent sites for identity and
self-formation.
This becomeseven more apparent when one considers the multiple layers of
symbolism, meaning, and emotion that are effected and affected through the ritual
process (Turner 1969). In chapter 5, I detail the ways in which rituals create a context for
men to both separate from the dominant structures ofneocolonial society and reestablish
indigenous structures ofknowledge, power, and embodiment---even ifonly for a short
time. Importantly, these processes are both inscribed on the body and enacted through
bodily performances and actions. Thus the dances, martial art forms, and tattoos that are
sited on the men's bodies and in their performance tell stories and communicate
messages about identity which are negotiated and understood by other Hawaiian men in
the group and in the community.
I also look at the more linguistic forms of discourse by analyzing life stories
shared with me by the men of the Hale Mua. Linde (1993:51) defines a life story as "a
temporally discontinuous unit told over many occasions and altered to fit the specific
occasions ofspeaking, as well as specific addresses, and to reflect changes in the
speaker's long-term situation, values, understanding, and (consequently) discursive
practices." Peacock and Holland (1993:371,373) argue that life stories are best
understood using a "processual" approach:
The telling of life stories, whether to others or self alone, is treated as an
important, shaping event in social and psychological processes, yet the life stories
themselves are considered to be developed in, and the outcomes of, the course of
these and other life events....[P]rocessual approaches...situate the life story in
processes crucial to human life: collective meaning systems and their dynamics,
18
self-other communication and discovery, social relations and the formation of
sociality, or self-formation (emphasis in original).
Utilizing such an approach in her study of abortion activists in Fargo, North Dakota,
Ginsburg (1989:134) describes how the telling oflife stories during interviews allowed
the activists to "constitute provisional solutions to disruptions in a coherent cultural
model for the place ofreproduction, motherhood, and work in the female life course in
contemporary America." In a large group setting, Cain (1991) argues that members of
Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) come to learn, understand, and perform their identities as
alcoholics through the hearing and telling ofpersonal stories. Swora (2001) notes also
that this collective sharing of life stories and other social commemorative acts in AA
work to heal memories by giving members a sense of self-continuity that was disrupted
by years ofheavy drinking. As Ochs and Capps (1996:31) write in their review article,
"The power to interface self and society reriders narrative a medium of socialization par
excellence... Communion with others, elusive and fleeting though it may be, constitutes
the greatest potentiality ofnarrative." Ito notes, the sharing of life stories among her
Hawaiian "lady friends" living in Honolulu during the 1970s was a fundamentally
emotional exchange that reaffirmed and reproduced the ties of affect that bound Hawaiian
communities and represented "the heart of Hawaiian culture" (Ito 1999:9).
Like the Hawaiian families that Ito describes in her book, the Hale Mua maintains
their "ties that define" the Mua through the sharing of affect rich life stories when they
"talk story" after practice and when they share more serious mo'olelo in 'awa circles. IIi
ways that resonate with the descriptions of AA, the Hale Mua becomes a place where
'Oiwi men heal; they heal themselves, the other men, and the Hawaiian people as a whole
by overcoming the historic pain ofcolonization and re-membering self and society
through the sharing of mo'olelo and the rebuilding and reconstitution of a community
19
bounded by their words.
3
The likeness with AA lies in more than just the structure of life
story telling. As I layout in chapter 6, one ofthe primary individuals responsible for the
development of the Hale Mua's structure had implemented it as a culturally based form
of treatment for Hawaiian men suffering from substance abuse and domestic violence in a
rural Hawaiian community on O'ahu where he was working as a clinical psychologist.
Many ofthe men that come to the Hale Mua have experienced physical violence and
alcoholism to varying degrees, as well the more discursive acts of violence visited on
them through the representations ofHawaiian men. Thus in all oftheir various struggles,
they are able to fmd support, understanding, and healing through the mo'olelo.
Mo'olelo, as fragments ofnarrated life experiences, also place speakers and
listeners alike in a succession ofpersonal, social, historical and spiritual events, and
thereby actively form individual and group subjectivities in the Hale Mua. Through the
mo'olelo, the men I interviewed both contextualize their participation in the Hale Mua
and actively work out issues of identity that extend into other areas of their life. As such,
I examine the ways in which the men articulate their reasons for joining, the timing in
their lives that this occurs, and the desires that preceded and serve as the context for their
subjective experiences in the Mua. In narrative practice individual subjectivities are
culturally organized (White 2000)-i.e., shaped by and feed back into a larger discourse
on Hawaiian masculinity and identity. During interviews, a number ofthe men spoke of
how they did not actually know what it was that was "missing" until they "found" it in
the Hale Mua. It is by learning to place their stories in a larger succession of talk that the
men come to a new understanding of subjectivity.
20
Discursive battlegrounds
Such discursive practices ofidentity have become increasingly salient not only in
Hawai'i but throughout the Pacific in areas where nationalist struggles for decolonization,
sovereignty, and self-determination employ anti-colonial discourses oftraditional culture
and strong assertions of indigeneity and identity. As scholars in the early 1990s
increasingly set their gazes on what was termed the "invention of tradition" in Native
struggles (Jolly and Thomas 1992; Keesing 1989; Linnekin 1992; Linnekin and Poyer
1990), so too did the Natives gaze back and bring their politics to bear on the academy.
The much-cited exchange between Roger Keesing and Haunani-Kay Trask serves as a
reminder that all discourses-especially those about discourses-are productive ofpower
differentials (Keesing 1989; Linnekin 1992; Tobin 1994; Trask 1991). Commenting on
the invention of tradition literature, Briggs (1996) insightfully notes that both
anthropologists and indigenous people stake claims to moral, political and discursive
authority in ways that are not altogether very different. What is different is the access to
discursive and economic resources enjoyed by the various parties, and it is this
differential that privileges the anthropologist's formulations.
Recognizing these dynamics and the need to assert a more proactive cultural
politics in the academy, a number of indigenous and non-indigenous scholars in the
Pacific have attempted to re-theorize and re-narrate Oceanic experiences and lives
(Borofsky 2000b; Diaz and Kauanui 2001b; Hau'ofa 1993; Hereniko and Wilson 1999;
.Smith 1999). For example, the recent symposium and publication Native Pacific Cultural
Studies on the Edge co-convened by Vicente Diaz and J. Kehaulani Kauanui offers an
important intervention in conceptualizing indigeneity. Diaz and Kauanui draw upon the
seafaring and island-based sensibilities characteristic ofPacific peoples to address current
contests over Pacific indigeneity. Turning to indigenous navigational concepts, they
21
offer "triangulation as a native style of analysis and mode ofpolitics" (Diaz and Kauanui
2oo1a:316). They state:
As a technique for successful travel, whose urgent stakes are the peoples'
survival and stewardship ofplace, triangulating among moving islands in
a fluidic pathway involves a clear and unambiguous sense of one's place
at all times. The islands may move, but one must always know their
location at any given time, as indexed by their signs in the natural and
supernatural worlds. To lose one's place, to not know where one's island
is, or to no longer be possessed by that island, is to be perilously lost at sea
(p.3]7).
This approach to indigenous struggles in academia as well as native communities
is both liberating and empowering for its ability to recognize that rootedness in land and
place persists despite-and even because of-the fluidity that comes with histories of
travel and tidal change. Importantly, one of the primary ways in which these identities
remain rooted while also routed (Clifford 1997; 200] [in special issueD is through the
discursive practices ofgenealogical chants and mo'olelo of ancestral figures, gods,
chiefs, and places (cf. Sam Ka'ai's discussion ofthe navigator's song on pages 85-6).
In this dissertation, I both document and enact such discursive practices of
personal and social narration as I triangulate my work as an 'Oiwi anthropologist. The
term 'Oiwi means "indigenous/native" and literally roots indigeneity in the iwi (bones)
by identifying the people with the kulaiwi ("bone plain"/native land) that they kanu
(bury/plant) the bones of their ancestors in, the same 'aina (land) that feeds their families
and waits for their bones to be planted by their descendants (See also Ayau and Tengan
2002). Because I carry the land and the ancestors in my bones, the fmal repository ofmy
personal mana and that ofmy family, I have a special kuleana to nurture and maintain the
22
genealogical connections between place, people, and gods. I also seek tell new mo'olelo
(using both English and Hawaiian) that shed light upon our ability to traverse the borders
of insider/outsider, indigenous/foreign, colonized/decolonized, global/local, and
modern/traditional. This orientation is especially salient given that Kanaka encounter
"otherness" on the "inside" as much as the "outside" ofHawaiian communities today.
Yet this very diversity of experience and positionality is a strength when understood as
broadening and enlarging the spaces of indigeneity and the possibilities of
transformation.
I have tried to fulfill my kuleana by critiquing those institutional and discursive
structures that work to undermine and extinguish the sources ofmana and identity that
Kanaka 'Oiwi draw upon to empower and defme ourselves. As Maori intellectual Linda
Tuhiwai Smith (1999:2) points out, indigenous scholars must critically engage "research
as a significant site of struggle between the interests and ways of knowing of the West
and the interests and ways ofknowing of the Other...namely, indigenous peoples."
In attempting to utilize "decolonizing methodologies" (Smith 1999) in my own
research, I have used Hawaiian language texts and concepts not only for the information
they provide but also for the theoretical insights they offer into the ways that knowledge
and meaning is created. For example, I draw upon a ko'ihonua (genealogical chant) to
interpret the life story ofSam Ka'ai in chapter 7. I have also included long quotes of
Hawaiian text from the writings of 19'" and early 2()'!' century'Oiwi intellectuals,
followed by my own translations/interpretations (see chapter 4). As Noenoe Silva has
argued, the near-total neglect ofHaWaiian language materials (which stems from the
colonial oppression of our language) has led to a crippling reliance on partial, fractured,
and even mis-translated texts and the dominant colonial histories written by typically
white male historians who could not access the indigenous archive (Silva 1999b; 2000).
23
One particularly relevant example highlights not merely an omission, but a clearly
biased addition. In both the original and in the English translation, Kamakau writes that
women beat kapa (bark cloth) that furnished the house with pillows, mats and sheets, and
provided materials for clothing; men typically did most ofthe heavy outdoor work
(farming, fishing, cooking, building houses) and provided women with all they needed
for their work.' This varied from island to island, and he notes (with some disdain) that
on Hawai'i and Maui, the women worked outdoors just as hard as the men; the norm,
however, was that men did the laborious work. Another exception, as it appears in the
English translation, reads, "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 ofEhu'" (Kamakau 1992:238). This is the Hawaiian text it was based upon:
'0na kline no ho'i kekahi po'e loea rna ke 'ano hana malo a me ka pa'ii wahine.
He po'e hapa no na'e ka po'e i a'o 'ia rna ia 'ao'ao; ua kapa 'ia liikou '0 ka po'.e
ho'olu'u a kapalapala a 'Ehu (Kamakau 1996:233).
The men in fact were also some of the people expert in the making of loincloths
and women's skirts. The people trained as such were a minority however; they
were called the dyers and printers of 'Ehu (my translation).
24
Though Kamakau says that these men were a "hapa no" (minority), nowhere does he
assert that they were "disinclined to follow manly pursuits." One can speculate as to what
Kamakau may have thought, but to add morally loaded phrases that were not present
steals the mana from the work. This holds grave implications for people who are looking
to these texts as the sources of "traditional roles." IfKanaka Maoli scholars and
intellectuals are seeking to develop strategies for decolonization, healing, and re 
empowerment based on the indigenous archive, it behooves us to make sure we are
rooting our projects in the Maoli-that which is real.
Taking up such a position, I work to bring change not only in my community but
also in the discipline of anthropology and the academy in general. Ever since (in fact,
even before) anthropologists first began wrestling with the disciplinary "crisis" ofthe
mid-1980s (Marcus and Fischer 1986), the call to redirect cultural critique inwards has
been accompanied by an increased focus on the problematics and possibilities ofdoing
"native"l"indigenous" anthropology, "auto/ethnography" and other forms of "homework"
(Fahim 1982; Fahim and Helmer 1980; Jacobs-Huey 2002; Jones 1970; Narayan 1993;
Peirano 1998; Reed-Danahay 1997). Jacobs-Huey argues that although the position of
indigenous anthropologist is as partial, negotiated, and problematic as any other identity
one claims, the act of self-identifying as a native ethnographer is not done as "a
noncritical privileging endeavor. Instead, foregrounding native in relation to
anihropology, or oneself as a native anthropologist, can act as an empowering gesture and
critique of the positioning of natives in the stagnant slot ofthe Other" (Jacobs-Huey
2002:800). Like Jacobs-Huey, my efforts at decolonization are mobilized not only for
the people I write about, but also the people I write for; in both cases, these communities
are located inside and outside the academy. It is thus that I seek to practice
"anthropology as an agent oftransformation" (Harrison 1997).
25
Yet as Smith (1999: 137) points out, critical reflexivity must underpin every step
ofthe research project, for indigenous and other "insider" researchers "have to live with
the consequences oftheir processes on a day-to-day basis for ever more, and so do their
families and communities." As I discuss in my conclusion, some of the things I wrote in
an earlier iteration of this dissertation, though never intending to harm, hurt one
individual so deeply that he was ready to come to blows with me. The process through
which he expressed his frustration to others, their reactions to him, my discovery ofhis
reaction, and finally our rectification of the hihia (entanglement/problem) through mihi
(apology) and kiikiikiika (dialogue) highlighted both the pain and hope of carrying a
project such as this. As such, I need to reiterate the fact that although I have tried my
hardest to incorporate the words (through interview transcripts) and ideas (from feedback
on earlier drafts) of the other men in the Mua, as well as the guidance ofmy kiipuna,
'aumiikua (guardian deities), kini akua (40,000 gods), and Alma (God), this dissertation
represents my own style of articulating these multitudes of voices. The Hale Mua means
something different to everyone involved, and thus my own narration of it should not
acquire a special authority that overshadows the viewpoints ofthe guys who see it as a
social club, or thoSe who see it as their entire life. For me, it is both more and less, and it
is constantly in flux for myself and for the others. Such is the nature of a living culture
and a living people.
Outline
In the next chapter, I provide some historical background to the Hale Mua by
tracing out some ofits history in the mo'olelo Hawai'i. I also layout some ofthe history
of colonization and efforts at decolonization, and the ways in which discourses ofdeath
and life have been deployed in the various struggles over power.
26
It is the gendering of these discourses, especially in projects of decolonization,
revitalization, and nationalism that I take up in the chapter 3. Here I layout a context for
understanding the articulation of cultural identity and gender, especially practices of
indigenous masculinities, in Hawai'i and the Pacific. I argue that indigenous Oceanic
men engage in gender practices that historically have had widely different consequences
for their positions ofpower or marginality. I focus my analysis on the production of
modern Polynesian masculinities in Hawai'i and AotearoalNew Zealand, highlighting the
importance of the intersection ofEuropean and American colonialism(s) with indigenous
forms ofsocial organization. I look specifically at the participation ofindigenous men in
the military and sports, two of the most important sites for the production ofmasculinities
where indigenous men contend with hegemonic ideologies of gender and culture. I end
with some critical reflections on the possibilities and limitations ofreviving traditional
indigenous masculinities, especially those that draw upon practices of warriorhood, in
decolonization movements in Hawai'i and Aotearoa.
Chapter 4 gives an ethnohistorical account ofPu'ukohola and the various
mo'olelo that inform the current day activities at the site. The 1991 bicentennial
commemoration provided an important venue for the public enactment ofrituals that
reinscribed the place with new meaning and function as a temple of state. Organizers
were particularly concerned with the role ofmen and sought to create a place in which
Hawaiian males could take up their roles as Na Koa, "the courageous ones" who were
modern day warriors prepared to stand up for their culture and nation.
In chapters 5 and 6, I track the movements and journeys of Na Koa 0 Maui, a
group I joined in 1997. As they returned annually to Pu'ukoholii and became involved
with other nationalist commemorations, the newly formed pa lua (Hawaiian bone 
breaking martial art schools), the Royal Order ofKamehameha (one of the oldest
27
Hawaiian male associations in existence), and various culture and arts festivals on Maui,
the group grew and it took on new directions. After a series of splits and reorganizations,
Na Koa became the Hale Mua, the Men's House. The Hale Mua created a vehicle for
men who previously felt alienated by both the cultural nationalist movement and the
dominant American society to engage in the type of identity work required for the
decolonizing process. One of the central functions was to give men the chance to
experience and live Kanaka Maoli history and culture through various ritual activities.
The ritual practices of 'Qiwi masculinity and identity that the Hale Mua engages in
emerge in clear fashion at the ceremonies ofPu'ukohola, which I give a "thick
description" of in chapter five.
The sixth chapter focuses on some ofthe major activities of the Hale Mua outside
of Pu'ukohola. I examine here the discursive practices of ritual and embodied action
carried out in hana kalai (carving), Wehe Kii (opening the Kii season) at the Pihanakalani
and Haleki'i heiau on Maui, and the weekly training in ho'oikaika kino (exercise and
body strengthening). Here I detail the ways in which identity formation and
transformation proceed on multiple levels to create a sense ofreconnection, growth,
healing, rebuilding, strength, understanding, and kuleana as Hawaiian men.
Chapter 7 examines in more detail the personal narratives of the men in the Hale
Mua and the ways that the members make sense oftheir experiences and reflect on
Hawaiian masculinity today. I focus on how the men find and/or create connections with
each other, the land, the ancestors, and the larger Hawaiian lahui through the sharing of
mo'olelo-life stories. Life stories provide a very powerful vehicle ofreflection on one's
own personal subjectivity and how one is a part ofa larger collectivity shaped by culture,
gender, race, class, and place. I look at the occurrence oflife narration in two main
contexts: those produced in interviews, and those given in a large group discussion in
28
1999. I argue that it is through the telling and hearing of these life stories that the men
come to know, and enact, their identities as members ofthe Mua and ofthe larger Kanaka
Maoli society. I also reflect on my own experiences and struggles as a member and
researcher in the group.
In the conclusion I reflect on the various processes for creating meaningful
Kanaka identities and masculinities that the dissertation has examined and what they
mean for the larger struggles of decolonization and self-determination in Hawai'i and
beyond.
ENDNOTES
1 The Hawaiian comes from the Kaliikaua text as included in Beckwith (1972:187).
Beckwith's translation apRears on page 58. Owing to my hesitancy to translate poetry, I
have used Beckwith's translation.
2 I use the terms Kanaka 'Oiwi, 'Oiwi, Kanaka Maoli, 'Oiwi Maoli, and Kanaka
interchangeably with Hawaiian and IndigenouslNative Hawaiian. The word kanaka
means "person," and in certain contexts "man" (though it is not gendered and can refer
also to women). 'oiwi is a term that associatesindigeneity with the iwi, the bones. The
term maoli means "real, true." When the word Kanaka takes the macron over the first 'a',
it represents the pluralized form of the term, or "people" versus "person."
3 I thank Kamika Niiklinelua for reminding me that people come not only to heal
themselves, but also to heal others and all Hawaiians in general (Niikanelua 2003).
4 Nupepa Kuokoa December 14, 1867 (Kamakau 1992:238-239; 1996:232-235).
29
CHAPTER 2
VA AO KA PO: DAWNINGS OF PEOPLES
In the eighth wii (period) ofthe Kumulipo, the fIrst human beings are bom. Po
ends, and Ao-the realm ofday, light, and the living-begins and continues until the
sixteenth and last wii ofthe mele (poetic text). Po and Ao represent a basic duality that
highlights the interconnection and interdependence of the living and dead, people and
gods, day and night. It is from the Po that Kiinaka come into the Ao, and it is to the Po
that they return when their eyes have seen the last light of day. Ancestors, gods, and
spirits ofthe Po made their presence known and felt in the world of the Ao; indeed,
Kiinaka on all levels of society depended upon them for the vitality and strength of their
bodies corporeal and politic. Likewise, the 'aumiikua and akua could only live when they
were fed by the living, acts that ranged from the daily offering offood and 'awa in the
hale mua to the consecration oftemples ofstate with the bodies ofhigh-ranking ali'i.
The regular cycle of dusks and dawns reaffIrmed a fundamental principle of being and
existence: pono-well-being, righteousness, properness, perfect order, moral
correctness-flowed from and resided in the balance ofPo and Ao.
In the introduction, I spoke ofthe Po as a cultural metaphor and a place that
Hawaiians have returned to in their efforts ofreclamation. This chapter provides some of
the historical orientation for the coming chapters and very briefly lays out some ofthe
relevant themes and events ofthe mo'olelo of Hawai'i, especially those that shed light on
the discourses of tradition, colonialism, and reclamation that shape the larger context in
which the Hale Mua has emerged and continues to be transformed.
30
Mo'olelo 0 ka hale mua: the hale mua in myth and history
In the twelfth wii (time period) ofthe Kumulipo, Wiikea (sky father) and
Papahanaumoku (earth mother) appear; other mo'olelo and mele describe them as the
original progenitors ofthe islands and the people. It is they who institute the 'aikapu and
elaborate on the system of ali'i, kahuna, and maka'iiinana.' The fIrst human child born to
the couple was the beautiful Ho'ohokiikalani (to generate stars in the sky), whom Wiikea
desired. He sought counsel from his kahuna (ritual expert, priest) who instructed Wiikea
to institute the 'aikapu, a religio-political set of laws that separated kane and wahine
during eating periods and placed the responsibility offeeding both the 'ohana and the
akua on the shoulders of the men. Thus, the kane were to prepare food in separate ovens
and build two separate eating houses: the hale mua (front/fIrst house) for the men and the
hale 'aina (eating house) for the women and children. Certain foods (e'.g. pig, coconuts,
bananas, red fIsh) that represented the sexual power ofthe four major male akua, Kil,
Lono, Kane, and Kanaloa, were kapu (forbidden) to women. The kahuna also suggested
there be four nights ofeach lunar month set aside for heiau worship of these akua, on
which it was kapu for the kane to sleep with their wahine. Wiikea told Papa of the new
regulations, which she accepted, and on one ofthe kapu nights Wiikea slept with
Ho'ohokiikalani. Their fIrst child was born prematurely as an unformed fetus; they
named him Hiiloanaka (quivering long stalk) and buried him into the earth. From that
spot grew the fIrst kalo(taro) plant, the Hawaiian staple oflife. Their second child was
Hiiloa, named in honor ofhis older brother, and he became an ali'i nui (high chief) and
ancestor to all the Hawaiian people.
Kame'eleihiwa argues that the mo'olelo of the 'aikapu provides Kanaka Maoli
with a number of important metaphors to think with. The story of Hiiloa shows the older
sibling-younger sibling relationship that exists between the land and the people, and
31
likewise between the ali'i and the maka'ainana (Kame'eleihiwa 1992:25). The second
important lesson is that not only did the 'aikapu separate the men and the women, but it
more importantly separated the ali'i (chiefs) and the maka'iiinana (commoners); likewise,
it imbued the class of specialists known as kiihuna with powerful ritual authority that
could direct the political and spiritual course of events in the islands (1992:39). For all
classes ofpeople, the 'aikapu formally legalized pule (prayer) and ho'omana (worship, to
create mana) as a necessary practice in the maintenance ofpono, balance, and vitality in
society.
By 1810, after a twenty-eight year campaign ofconquest, Kamehameha Pai'ea, an
ali'i from Kohala, unified all the islands under one polity, an accomplishment that had
eluded all other ali'i nui that had attempted to do so previously. The'aikapu system
remained in place, though it was beginning to weaken as foreigners had been openly
disregarding the kapu without penalty-spiritual or legal-since 1778. Nonetheless,
maka'iiinana men continued to carry out their daily rituals in the domestic temple and
eating house of the hale mua.
The mua was an important site for the sustenance of life and the discursive and
embodied production ofmasculinities, both in the feeding of the 'aumakua and akua, and
in the learning of skills and stories related to fishing, farming, cooking, canoe and house
building, fighting, sailing, lovemaking, fathering, and providing for the 'ohana (Handy, et
al. 1972:297,301-302; Handy and Pukui 1972:9; Malo 1951:27-30; 1987:20-23). Boys
between the ages of five and seven were "kii i mua," or "cast into the mua," and given
their first malo in a ceremony that dedicated them to Lono, akua offertility; from that day
on, they would cease being called keiki lewalewa (danglers) and begin their growth into
manhood (Handy, et aI. 1972:316-318; Handy and Pukui 1972:95-97; Malo 1951:87-93;
1987:64-66). Women too had their own separate house and temple sites such as the hale
32
o Papa (women's heiau) and the hale kua/lmku (tapa beating house) where their own
gender practices and ideologies were learned and enacted (Kame'eleihiwa 1999). The
complimentarity ofmale/female, ali'i/maka'ainana, and Po/Ao produced the proper state
ofbeing that was the pono ofthe wa kahiko (ancient times).
In his 1866-1867 narrative of Kamehameha, 'Oiwi intellectual, historian, and
legislator Samuel Manaiakalani Kamakau wrote of the Conqueror's 1819 death.
Kamakau highlighted the one main quality that made Kamehameha, like all celebrated
and honored ali'i before and after him, a pono ruler: his profoundly deep devotion to the
gods and his unfailing dedication to pule and ho'omana. Kamakau went on to describe
the elaborate heiau rituals of the chiefs and the daily rituals of the commoners in the hale
mua, thus highlighting the importance ofthe Hawaiians' spirituality in the formation of
their identities:
Ina he pule 'ohana, ike ala 'ana mai 0 ke kane a me na keOO kane, a mau makua
paha, a laila, komo aku lakou i ka hale mua, a lawe mai ho'j i ka ipu 0 Lono, '0 ia
ho'i ka ipu kua'aha...[A]ia rna loko he 'ai, he i'a, he 'awa, a he wahi huluhulu
'awa rna waho 0 ke kakai, ua nakinaki 'ia, a lawe 'ia a'ela a waiho rna ka puka;
haliu aku ke alo i waho, me ka nonoi aku i ke akua e ho'ola i na ali'i, na
maka'ainana a me ka 'ohana; a pau ia, 'ai i ka 'ai a me ka i'a. A pelil no i ke
ahiahi.
Ua 'olelo nui 'ia ka lahui kanaka Hawai'i, he lahui haipule i ke akua, he ho'okipa,
he 'olu'olu, he heahea, he aloha, he ha'awi wale i nil mea 'ai a me ka i'a, a e
'a'ahu wale ana no me ka 'uku 'ole. He llihui hilahila keia i ka piepiele. '0 ia
ihola ke 'ano 0 keia lahui rna mua aku 0 ka hOO 'ana mai 0 na haole a me ka pono
Kristiano rna Hawai'i nei, a ke a'o 'ia nei i ka 'au'a, ke pi, ka uahoa a me ke
koe'iI, a e a'o i ka hauhauhali, a e puka i haoa a e ho'oio le'a. Ua ho'oko no
33
kekahi po'e i keia, aka, '0 ka hapa nui, ke maumaua mai nei no na mamo a ka
lokomaika'i...
He aha ke kumu? He lahui kanaka haipule i ke akua, he 'ike i ka mo'olelo 0 ke
akua, i kona mana, i ka 'ike, ke ahonui, ka hana maika'i a me ke ola loa. He lahui
'ike i ka mo'olelo 0 kela a me keia aupuni, no ka maika'i 0 kela a me keia aupuni,
no ka maika'i a me ka 'ino. Aia rna ka mo'olelo pule akua, ka'ao, papa huli
honua a me na mo'olelo 0 na mo'o kij'auhau, aia rna laila e loa'a ai na lahui
kanaka 0 ka honua.
Ifit is family prayers, when the men and the boys awake, and other adult meIi
perhaps, then, they enter the hale mua, and bring the ipu 0 Lono (gourd ofLono),
which is the ipu kua'aha (container ofofferings)...[I]nside is 'ai (food/starch), i'a
(fish/meat), 'awa, and some 'awa rootlets tied on the handle outside, and [it] is
taken outside and left by the door; [the men] face out, while making requests to
the god to give life to the ali'i, the maka'ainana and the 'ohana; when finished,
[they] eat the 'ai and i'a. And [so it was done] likewise in the evening.
The Hawaiian lahui (people/nation) were said to have been, a lahui that prayed to
the god, [were] hospitable, kind, welcoming, loving, [and] gave freely oftheir 'ai
and i'a, and clothing without pay. This was a lahui ashamed oftrading. That was
the character of this lahui before the coming of the haole and the Christian pono
(morality) in Hawai'i, and [the lahui] is being taught to withhold, be stingy, hard,
obstinate, carry to and fro, and emerge in pillage and show offwith delight.
2
Some people have fulfilled/followed this [teaching], but ofthe majority, the
descendants are indeed perpetuating good-heartedness and generosity...
34
What is the reason? [Hawaiians1were a nation ofpeople who prayed to the god,
knew ofthe mo'olelo of the god, ofhis mana, the knowledge, the patience, the
good acts and the long life. It was a Hilmi that knew the mo'olelo of all the other
kingdoms, about the good ofthese kingdoms, about the good and the bad. In the
prayer accounts, tales, studies ofthe earth and the stories of the genealogies,
therein is found the nations ofpeople ofthe earth.
3
Kamakau notes the ways in which the rituals, prayers, and stories actively form the moral
character, culture, and collective subjectivity of the people, both kane and wahine.
Importantly, these rituals brought ola (life) to the a1i'i, maka'iiinana,and 'ohana. Yet as
Kamakau noted, the incursion of the haole and the Christian form ofpono began to
transform Kanaka subjectivities in very significant ways.
Ke ao hou: transformations ofPo and pono
As Kame'eleihiwa shows, the whole-hearted acceptance of Christianity came asa
result of the inability ofthe older set of kapu and ritual to achieve the pono ofthe people
and the society; most profoundly, this was evidenced in the catastrophic loss of life due to
foreign diseases, which, depending upon the numbers one uses, ranged from sixty to
eighty percentpopulation loss in the short forty-five years since Captain Cook first
brought venereal diseases to the islands in 1778 (Kame'eleihiwa 1992:81). In an attempt
to "live as white men" and hopefully fmd a new path ofola, Ka'ahumanu, the favorite
wife of Kamehameha and the prime minister after his death, orchestrated the overthrow
of the 'aikapu by convincing Liholiho to 'ainoa (eat freely) with herself and his mother
Keopiiolani at his installation as the successor to the Kingdom (Kame'eleihiwa 1992:82).
The arrival ofProtestant missionaries the following year (1820) provided the new
pono and a new brand ofkahuna. They entered a society undergoing wide-scale political
35
and economic transformations brought on by an established mercantile capitalist
economy, which at the time was fully engaged in the sandalwood trade. Social relations
between ali'i and maka'amana were strained as growing debts to haole businessmen led
to an ever-increasing pace of sandalwood extraction, always through the labor ofthe
commoners and at the neglect of the lo'i (taro patches) and older subsistence economy.
Maka'ainana also began to exercise their own autonomy from chiefs in this new
economy, especially in the port towns where fur traders, sandalwood merchants, and
whalers recruited the bodies ofmen and forest gods as labor and goods while conducting
a different trade for the bodies of women (Kame'eleihiwa 1992:140; Ralston 1984). The
missionaries saw the drinking and prostitution associated with the sailors and merchants
as clear evidence for the need ofGod's law, and thus worked tirelessly to instill the
Christian pono that would save the Hawaiians from both the heathen darkness of their
past (pO) as well as the depravity ofthe docks. Tellingly, American missionary Lonin
Andrews's 1865 A Dictionary ofthe Hawaiian Language includes in the many entries for
pono:
Duty; obligation; authority. Mark 11:28, 29, 33. NOTE.-The Hawaiians now
speak of the pono kahiko [old] and the pono hou [new] by way of comparison and
also of contrast (Andrews 2003:490).
The Calvinists offered ola hou (new life) as the answer to the "great dying" that they
convincingly associated with the old, heathen, pagan, barbaric, and savage ways. Thus
Andrews (2003:476) lists the following definitions (again, among many others) for Po:
"The place of departed spirits; the place of torment" and "Fig. Ignorant; rude; wild;
savage."
Yet the missionaries could not stop the deaths, and by 1839 Davida Malo, a
Kanaka Maoli intellectual and prodigy of the missionaries, articulated the collective
36
concern felt by all Kanaka about the death ofthe people in an essay entitled "On the
Decrease ofPopulation on the Hawaiian Islands" (Malo 1839 cited in Merry 2000:44).
This was one of many early examples of what would be a pervasive discourse of the
"disappearing native," both culturally and bodily. Subsequent writers, both haole and
Kanaka, would continue to wrestle with the horrific losses for years to come; many still
do today. As Wende Marshall (1999) argues in her study ofmedical discourses
employed in both colonial and anti-colonial projects in Hawai'i, "sickness and disease
were never neutral categories" (p.19):
Beginning with the Calvinist theology of the New England missionaries,
Hawaiians were inscribed as essentially sinful, susceptible to the vices (but not
the virtues of) civilization, ignorant and liable to disease and death, disorderly and
subject to deviance-particularly through the use of intoxicants such as opium
and alcohoL The tropes characterizing Hawaiian life and culture shifted from a
focus on sin and licentiousness in the early nineteenth century to arguments about
Hawaiian ignorance and susceptibility to disease, criminality and deviance in the
latter part of the century....These various discourses work to narrate the myth of
Hawaiian dissipation and extinction-a myth which worked to justify the
encroachment on Hawaiian resources and the usurpation ofHawaiian power by an
elite group of (mainly) American men. Although it is clearly the case the
Hawaiians suffered incredible losses, and that Hawaiian depopulation is a searing
reality of the colonial encounter, the myth of Hawaiian dissipation belies the
extent to which European and American political intervention paved the way for
Hawai'i's incorporation as a territory of the United States in 1898 (pp.I 10-111).
Kanaka Maoli clearly understood the ways in which these discourses were being put to
use and actively contested them by linking disease and death to the colonization of the
37
islands. In the same serial quoted earlier, Samuel Kamakau wrote about the various
epidemics that had been wiping out the population and very directly identified the source,
both physically and morally:
'0 ke kumu i loa'a mai ai keia po'ino a me ka ho'oneo 'ana ho'i i ka Hilmi
Hawai'i nei, ua maopopo, '0 na haole no ka po'e pepehi liihui; a '0 ka puni
hanohano me ka puni waiwai, '0 laua no na hoa aloha no ka ma'i luku....
The reason this disaster and devastation has befallen this Hawaiian nation, is
understood, the haole are the people who kill nations; and the desire for glory and
the desire for wealth, they two are the companions ofthe ravaging disease...
Unfortunately, like the discourse ofdeath and dissipation that Kamakau was contesting,
his own words disappeared as Hawaiians of later generations were unable to access the
Hawaiian language newspapers and translators ofhis work omitted sections like this
(Silva 2000).
Though the missionaries did not bring the new life that Kanaka were looking for,
they did succeed in implementing a radically new set oflaws and mores that had
profoundly transformed the constitution of 'Oiwi society. Osorio (2002:13) writes:
Law drove a wedge between Ali'i and Maka'iiinana by creating a new layer of
authority between them, a layer that neither could control. The kanaka accepted
haole morality and law as rituals that could or would restore balance and health to
their society. However...Native conversion to Christianity and Western laws
enabled haole to become powerful authorities in Hawaiian society while
managing the systematic destruction ofthe relationship between chiefs and the
people. It was the dismembering ofthat relationship that crippled the Natives'
attempts to maintain their independence and their identity.
38
As Merry (2000) argues, Hawaiian monarchs adopted Western law, at first religious and
then secular, as a way oflaying claim to "civilization," both as leaders of a modem and
autonomous kingdom in the world of nations and as indigenous rulers trying to check the
internal encroachments on their power and authority. Yet in the end, law not only
undennined the authority and mana of the ali'i, but it also laid the groundwork for the
alienation of the people from the 'mna, and thus the gods, through land privatization
between 1848-1855 (known as the Miihele); the usurpation of legal power through haole
(usually missionary or missionary descendent) dominated political bodies; and the
colonization ofHawai'i by America, both culturally and, eventually, territorially
(Kame'eleihiwa 1992; Kelly 1994; Merry 2000; Osorio 2(02).
The final acts ofcolonization at the end ofthe 19
th
century culminated years of
both overtly and covertly imperialist attempts on the part of the American government to
possess the islands as its "Pacific outpost;' which had been identified early-on as the key
to Pacific domination if a large naval base could be built at Keawalau 0 Pu'uloa, now
known as Pearl Harbor (Ferguson and Turnbull 1999; Kajihiro 2000:30). These
imperialist desires coincided with those of the American and other foreign businessmen
living in the islands, most of whom were engaged in the growing sugar plantation
economy that had begun in earnest in the mid 1800s. As their economic influence grew,
so too did their political power and their desire to become a part ofthe United States. By
1887, missionary descendants and other haole business elite were able to exert the threat
ofmilitia action and force King David La'amea Kalakaua to sign what was to be known
as "the Bayonet Constitution." This act rendered Kalakaua politically impotent and led to
the signing of a new "Reciprocity Treaty" with the U.S. Unlike the earlier 1876
agreement that merely removed barriers to trade, the new agreement represented the first
major loss ofterritorial sovereignty as Hawai'i ceded the Pearl River estuary to the U.S.
39
for exclusive use as a naval base in exchange for the duty free import of Hawaiian sugar
into American markets (Kent 1993:46-55; Trask 1993a:13-15).
With the rise of"King Sugar," the maka'iiinana raised their voices in protest and
petitioned KaHikaua's sister and successor, Queen Lili'uokalani, to draft a new
constitution that would return the power to the crown and thus to the people that she
served. Knowing full well what this would mean to their de facto colonial rule, the
"missionary gang" of white planters and businessmen staged the illegal overthrow of the
Hawaiian monarch on January 17, 1893 with the support of U.S. Marines landed the day
before by the American Ministerto Hawai'iJohn Stevens (Trask 1993a: 16-17).
President Grover Cleveland launched an investigation headed by Commissioner James
Blount, the results ofwhich led the President to declare that the role of the U.S. in the
overthrow represented "an act ofwar" and recommended that Congress "should endeavor
to repair" this "substantial wrong" (cited in Trask 1993a:18-19). As America was not
quite ready to accept its stolen goods, the sugar barons succeeded their "Provisional
Government" (1893-1894) with an equally illegitimate "Republic ofHawai'i" (1894 
1898) that worked tirelessly towards annexation, an end that was achieved on July 6,
1898 when the Spanish War and a blatantly imperialist President McKinley brought
about a new sentiment in the U.S. Congress (such as we have seen in recent events under
the Bush administration), who broke their own constitution and passed a joint resolution
(called the Newlands Resolution) to annex Hawai'i (Kent 1993:63-68; Trask 1994:20 
21).
Throughout this period, and indeed since the time that James Cook first
threatened the life and authority of the Hawai'i island ali'i nui Kalani'opu'u, Kiinaka
Maoli resisted colonization through a variety of discursive and embodied strategies
ranging from the printing ofpolitically charged mo'olelo in the Hawaiian language
40
newspapers to the attempted armed revolution of 1895 (Kent 1993:64-65; Silva 1999b).
Silva (1997; 1999b) details many ofthese acts ofresistance in the latter halfofthe 19
th
century, the most concerted and organized ofall being an anti-annexation petition drive
conducted by men and women ofthe Hui Aloha 'Aina (Hawaiian Patriotic League) that
produced over 21,000 signatures. Along with the 17,000 names (a number of which were
duplicates) on a petition to reinstate the monarch that was authored by the political
organization Hui Kalai'aina, the written protests of the Kanaka Maoli, who in 1896
numbered just under 40,000 (Kame'eleihiwa 1992:141), helped to defeat the original
treaty ofannexation that was debated in Congress in 1897-1898.
After the Newlands Resolution passed, leaders ofthe political hui (organizations)
sent a letter ofprotest, in Hawaiian and in English, to the U.S. Minister that included the
statement, ke kue aku nei makou me ka manao kulipolipo kukonukonu loa i ka
hoohuiia mai " which in English read, .....we solemnly protest against annexation..."
(cited in Silva 1999b:202). A more literal translation could read "we protest with the
deepest, most intensely profound and serious conviction against annexation." Following
Pukui and Elbert (1986:180), Silva (1999b:202) notes that the word kiilipolipo relates to
the Kumulipo and that it means "deep, dark, intense and is used in conjunction with
expressions ofpain and grief'; in this context, she argues that Hawaiian text becomes an
arena for Kiinaka 'Oiwi to express grief to one another while presenting a coldly
dignified front to the U.S. diplomats. I argue that the use of the term also represents an
added contestation to U.S. colonial encroachment by asserting a much "deeper" claim to
indigenous place, being, autonomy, and culture through the Kumulipo to the Po, the
ancestral realm that gave birth to the gods, land, and people. After suffering a 87-95%
population loss (depending on the numbers one starts with), adopting the new Christian
pono, engaging in the capitalist system, weathering innumerable attacks on their language
41
and culture, suffering the loss of their sovereignty, and watching their efforts to protest
annexation fail, they still returned to the Po as a place for empowerment, strength, and
connection with their past and their ancestors.
Figure 4. Peter "Lupe" Vanderpoel of the Hale Mua looks back at a member of
another Na Koa group as the two stand as ceremonial guards for the Ka'ei
Kapu 0 Liloa during the 1998 annexation march in Honolulu.
Photo courtesy of Makani Ortogero.
Mai ka Po mai: from the Po
One hundred years after the illegal annexation, Kanaka 'Oiwi continue to protest
American occupation, and like their kiipuna, they do so through assertions of indigeneity
that root their claims to place and space in their mo'olelo mai ka Po mai
(histories/traditions from the Po). On August 12, 1998, the Hale Mua (which was still
going by the name of Na Koa at the time) joined other Na Koa groups from O'ahu and
Hawai'i islands to participate as kia'i (ceremonial guards) of the Ka'ei Kapu 0 Uloa
42
(Sacred Sash of 15
th
century Hawai'i island ali'i nui Liloa) in the Hawai'i Loa Kii Like
Kakou (All Hawai'i Stand Together) Annexation Centennial Commemoration march and
gathering in Honolulu.
5
The event included: an 18 hour vigil (beginning at sunset on the
11 th) at the 'Iolani Palace in downtown Honolulu honoring the "fallen warriors," men and
women who have passed on into the Po but in life made significant contributions to the
contemporary cultural nationalist movement (which began in the early 1970s); a 6:00
a.m. ceremony at the Royal Mausoleum in Nu'uanu honoring the Kli'ei Kapu 0 Liloa and
the sovereign rulers ofthe Hawaiian Kingdom from Kamehameha I to Lili'uokalani; a
7:00 am march from the Mausoleum to Washington Place (former residence ofQueen
Lili'uokalani, now home of the Governor), and then on to the 'Iolani Palace. Various
units bore and protected the Kli'ei, carried portraits of the monarchs, and displayed copies
of the 1897 anti-annexation petitions unearthed by Noenoe Silva during her doctoral
research. Over 5,000 marchers and members ofthe public gathered at the Palace to
witness and celebrate with chant, song, and emotional outbursts the raising ofthe
Hawaiian flag at noon, a reversal ofthe 1898 event that brought down the national flag
and hoisted the American olle. The afternoon program included speeches, historical
reenactments, and musical performances that reiterated the theme "We Are Who We
Were."
Hawai'i Loa Kii Like Kakou followed nearly thirty years ofnationalist ferment
and cultural revitalization. Born in a period ofpolitical upheaval, civil disobedience,
anti-war sentiments, and assertions ofminority rights in the United States, the Hawaiian
cultural nationalist movement began in the late 19608 and early 19708 with the parallel
and related developments ofthe "Hawaiian renaissance" (Kanahele 1982) of the arts and
culture and protests over land evictions on O'ahu and the Navy's bombing of the island
Kaho'olawe (Trask 1993a). The idea of a "cultural nationalism" suggests both a
43
sentiment and a process of nation building which is deeply informed by a sense of
'cultural' morality-the revitalization of traditions, such as dance, customs, rituals, art
forms, and religious beliefs, and their subsequent incorporation into the cultural
folindation on which the political body ofthe modem nation is to be built (Hutchinson
1987).
It is instructive to think ofthe Hawaiian movement as sharing many similar
elements ofwhat Anthony Wallace has described as a "revitalization movement," which
he defines as "a deliberate, organized, conscious effort by members ofa society to
construct a more satisfying culture" (Wallace 1956:265). Arising in times of "high stress
for the individual ofthe society and disillusionment with a distorted cultural Gestalt'
(p.279), revitalizations attempt to reduce the "stress" of the cultural system, which itself
is seen as a kind oforganism or a body. This is an apt model, for it is was the bodies of
the people, nation and the culture that were discursively and corporeally inflicted with
disease and death.
Socially, Hawaiians have not fared much better. 'Oiwi Maoli currently make up
about twenty three of a population dominated by Asians (fifty eight percent) (State of
Hawaii 2001). Politically and economically, haole and Asian settlers dominate;
meanwhile, although individual Hawaiians have certainly become successful on all levels
ofsociety, as agroup Klinaka Maoli have been marginalized and suffer many ofthe
social and physical ills that befall colonized populations globally (Trask 20ooa).
Thus the cultural nationalist and revitalization movement(s) in Hawai'i seek to
assert new life, vibrancy, strength, and health (Marshall 1999). Here metaphors of
"rebirth" and "revival" abound. One ofthe most important "renewals" in the early years
was the construction ofthe Hawaiian double-hulled voyaging canoe Hokiile 'a and her
maiden voyage to Tahiti that drew upon the traditional Micronesian navigation
44
knowledge (Finney 1979). The Hokiile 'a sparked a revitalization of Polynesian voyaging
and facilitated the reconnection of Kanaka Maoli with their Polynesian cousins and their
own deeper histories and mo'olelo (Finney 1994; 1999).
Hokiile'a led to increased intercultural exchange with the Maori of Aotearoa/New
Zealand whose challenges to the Hawaiians played an important role in the rededication
of Pu'ukohola Heiau, Kawaihae, Hawai'i in 1991 as a gathering place for men and
women to practice and live their culture (see chapters 4, 5). Organizers saw the event,
entitled Ho'oku'ikahi: To Unify as One, as an opportunity to revitalize cultural and
spiritual traditions that were both authentic (i.e., not performed for tourists or as a
pageant) and masculine (i.e., aggressive, strong, and disciplined). Na Koa embodied this
gendered reclamation ofcultural identity, and they inspired an important segment of the
Hawaiian male population who had previously been uninvolved in the cultural politics of
sovereignty and revitalization.
The groups of Na Papa Kanaka 0 Pu'ukoholii (the organizational body of the
Pu'ukohola ceremonies), Na Koa (the warriors/courageous ones) and Na Wa'a Liilani
Kahuna (ritual specialists) that were "born" at Pu'ukoholii participated in the later
commemorative events such as 1993 'Onipa'a march and commemoration of the illegal
overthrow of the Hawaiian Kingdom. 'Onipa'a represented the single largest and most
influential gathering of Hawaiians in the twentieth century as over 15,000 people
marched through downtown Honolulu and congregated at the 'Io1ani Palace for a
program similar to that of the 1998 Hawai'i Loa Kii Like Kiikou (Trask 1993a:99-105).
A 1995 march organized by Na Papa Kanaka 0 Pu'ukoholii in observance of
Kamehameha's conquest ofO'ahu drew a modest but dedicated crowd of about 300. A
number of smaller events were held on the different islands, but none of them involved a
45
significant level of island-wide (and off-island-wide as Hawaiians came from the
continent) participation nntil the 1998 Annexation march.
I conclude this chapter by noting that in each of these events, Nil Koa was a
visible force whose presence signaled the new strength, aggression and resolve with
which cultural nationalists had engaged in their struggles for self-determination and
sovereignty. In response to a colonial discourse ofdeath and disappearance, Kiinaka
Maoli have asserted a counter-discourse of life and have engaged in projects of
revitalization, revival, and healing. With Marshall (1999), I argue that healing on all
levels represents the most fundamental principle of 'Oiwi decolonization and recovery of
nation, for after the healing comes the rebuilding. This is the central aim of the
ceremonies at Pu'ukoholil and the practices carried out by the Hale Mua. Yet as I detail
in later chapters, these processes are inescapably gendered, and as such they present
numerous challenges for those who seek to heal wounds that are understood differently
by men and women.
ENDNOTES
1 My telling of the mo'olelo here is based on Malo (1951:27-30, 240-244; 1987:20-23,
158-159) and Kame'eleihiwa (1992:23-25).
2 The langnage used in this line is difficult for me to translate. Pukui et aI. (Kamakau
1992:202) translates this sentence as "Now they are being taught to be close, stingy, hard 
hearted, niggardly, to take pay for what is given and to be selfish." Either way, it is a
qualitatively negative assessment.
3 Nupepa Kuokoa Augnst 24, 1867 (Kamakau 1996:181-182). See also Kamakau
(Kamakau 1992:201-202) for English translation by Pukui et aI.
4 Nupepa Kuokoa December 7, 1867 (Kamakau 1996:230). Noenoe Silva first brought
this passage to the attention of the public and made the point that I argued in the previous
chapter-good scholarship on Hawai'i requires a working knowledge and familiarity
with the Hawaiian langnage sources (Silva 2000).
5 For newspaper coverage, see (Altonn 1998; Boyd 1998; "Centennial events" 1998;
Gordon and Chantavy 1998; "Hawai'i Loa" 1998; Kreifels and Tighe 1998; Omandam
1998a; 1998b; 1998c; 1998d; 1998e; 1998D.
46
CHAPTER 3
(EN)GENDERING COLONIALISM:
MASCULINmES IN HAWAI'I AND THE PACIFIC
January 1991. I was a sophomore at Kamehameha Schools, an extremely
competitive private institution for Native Hawaiian students that was established through
the will of Bernice Pauahi Bishop, last direct descendant of Kamehameha I. As a
"Warrior" athlete (our mascot was the "Warriors"), I had played football and wrestled for
two years. Not long after wrestling practice started, our coach came in late and told us to
sit down on the mats. He turned on the radio and we listened to George Bush, Sr., tell the
nation that we were at war. I sat on the mat and began to think of my own loyalties,
pondering whether or not I would give my life in battle if called to do so; my experiences
of growing up on army bases and my somewhat distant relationship with my father (at the
time a Lt. Colonel in the army stationed in Washington D. C.) always deterred me from
considering military service. But now I pondered it; and I know others did too.
Another sports mediated vision of war-March 20, 2003. George War Bush
began his attack on Iraq yesterday. I watched CNN with disgust as a retired general
called the war maneuvers like plays of a football game-"You have to call audibles when
you're at the line of scrimmage, and you call audibles at the end of the line of
scrimmage." I envisioned the University ofHawai'i's Polynesian mascot "Viii the
Warrior" running around with his face paint and his grass skirt before a football or
volleyball game, beating his drum, doing his "Polynesian War Dance," and screaming
"We're going to WAR!" The fans go crazy. I go crazy for different reasons. I skim the
stories of soldiers deployed and come across the name of my high school classmate who
is now serving in the Marines. We wrestled together and sat on the same mat when an
earlier Bush incarnation called out to all Warriors. Twelve years later, he is laying down
47
his life for his country. I too have decided that I will fight for my nation, but that nation
is Hawai'i, not America. But is my decision really that much different than his? Can any
masculinity based on violence ever lead to a truly peaceful end? Can there be an
operation Hawaiian Freedom? Do we want one?
These are the types of questions that research in gender, postcolonial, and cultural
studies may address by analyzing indigenous masculinities in colonial contexts. This line
of investigation not only foregrounds the gendered, raced, and classed dynamics of
colonialism and nationalism, but it also works to delineate the possibilities for alternative
gender practices that challenge hegemonic structures of white, middle-class patriarchy.
In theorizing the production of masculinities in (neo)colonial systems, we must remember
that hegemonies are always incomplete, allowing an interplay between structure and
agency-an interplay that involves and transforms indigenous ideologies of gender and
power. Such an approach to hegemonic power relations allows us to explore the ways in
which men and women who are complexly situated in multiple contexts can draw upon
dominant gender constructs for contradictory and even subversive purposes. Specifically,
in this chapter I argue that indigenous men in the Pacific engage in both hegemonic and
marginalized gender practices and have historically occupied differently gendered
positions ofpower and disempowerment depending upon the context.J I focus my
analysis on the production ofmodem Polynesian
2
masculinities in Hawai'i and
Aotearoa/New Zealand, higWighting the importance ofunderstanding the intersection of
European and American imperialism(s) and colonialism(s) with indigenous systems of
social organization. I then look at the participation ofKanaka Maoli and Tangata Maori
(indigenous peoples of Hawai'i and Aotearoa/New Zealand) men in the military and
sports, two ofthe most important arenas for the production of masculinities today.
Indigenous men variously take up or ignore hegemonic ideologies promoted in these
48
institutional sites, in the process achieving masculinities that defy any simple
categorization as either "Western" or "Polynesian." I end with some critical reflections
on the possibilities and limitations ofreviving "traditional" indigenous masculinities in
the context ofdecolonization movements in Hawai'i and Aotearoa.
In both Hawai'i and Aotearoa, indigenous men and women are engaged in
struggles for decolonization, self-determination, land, mana, and healing as a people.
Many of these struggles have been notably gendered, just as gender relations have
become increasingly politicized. More importantly, there has been a considerable
amount of sharing and networking over the last three decades between the Kiinaka Maoli
and the Tiingata Maori as both look to each other for support in their efforts of
reclamation. 'Oiwi men often glorify the Maori as representing the epitome of "real"
Polynesian masculinity, that of the fearless warrior. Not surprisingly, many ofthe newly
"masculinized" cultural practices being carried out by Kiinaka today are heavily
influenced and even directly borrowed from the Maori, e.g. the haka (dance), martial arts,
oratory styles, and ceremonial protocols. As I mentioned in the introduction, this
represents a gendering ofthe image ofcultural strength that the Maori are perceived to
have retained in contrast to the weakening, feminization, and even "death" of the
Hawaiian culture. I will return to this phenomenon at the end ofthe chapter, but for now
I would suggest that it speaks directly to the gendered nature of cultural nationalism and
identity formation. To understand this more clearly though, we need to develop a theory
of gender power and examine the historical specificities of colonialism in the Pacific.
Theorizing masculinities in the Pacific
Feminist scholars since the 1970s have pointed to the necessity of looking at
gender relations as an important component in the study of indigenous Oceanic societies
49
(Jolly and MacIntyre 1989; Ortner and Whitehead 1981; Ralston and Thomas 1987).
Caroline Ralston notes that aside from the study ofinitiation rites in Melanesian men's
houses, initially there had been very little scholarship "which problematize[d] the
meanings and practices of male worlds" rather than merely reproducing androcentric
accounts of men that were "paraded as objective" or universal (1992:162). More
recently, a number ofstudies have looked at the transformation ofmasculinities through
the processes of colonization, missionization, and modernization (Brison 1995; Fife
1995). One of the most productive sites for the study of masculinities in Oceania has
been Aotearoa, where both Native and non-Native scholars have examined the
representations ofMaori and Piikehii (white) masculinities in film, television, and both
popular and academic literature (DuPuis 1996; Hokowhitu 2003; Law, et al. 1999;
Phillips 1984; 1987).
In his highly influential work on masculinities, sociologist R. W. Connell
conceptualizes masculinities, femininities, and trans- or third genders as social practices
"organized in relation to a reproductive arena, defined by bodily struc.tures and processes
of human reproduction" (1995:71). Connell argues that these practices are also "body 
reflexive" as bodies become "both objects and agents ofpractice, and the practice itself
forming the structures within which bodies are appropriated and defined" (p.61). Within
this framework, he defmes masculinity as a configuration of social practice structured by
gender relations (pp.44, 71). Rather than attempting to layout a normative definition of
what a man is or is not, Connell examines the ways that masculinities structure and are
structured by relations ofpower, production, and cathexis (emotional/sexual attachment)
(p.74). He utilizes Gramsci's idea ofhegemony to explore the ways in which
"hegemonic masculinities" work to subordinate "marginalized masculinities" and
femininities along the lines of ethnicity, race, class, property, age, sexuality, nation, age,
50
and place (See also Cheng 1999). Connell defines hegemonic masculinity as "the
configuration of gender practice which embodies the currently accepted answer to the
problem of the legitimacy of patriarchy, which guarantees (or is taken to guarantee) the
dominant position of men and the subordination ofwomen" (1995:77).
In theorizing the production ofmasculinities in colonial and neo-colonial
situations, I am especially concerned with the ways in which particular visions and ideals
of masculinity are promoted above others as defining what it means to be a "proper" or
"successful" man, and the ways that these figurations work to naturalize and maintain
systems ofgendered, raced, and class-based oppression and domination (Cornwall and
Lindisfarne 1994). At the same time though, hegemonic masculinities and marginalized
or "subaltern" masculinities should not be seen as homogenous and discreet productions
separated by distinct boundaries. To do so would be to replicate the debilitating
dichotomies upon which colonial hegemonies and authority rests, as well as to miss the
complexities of what actually takes place "on the ground."
We need to see gendered social actors as complexly situated, located, and
positioned in multiple settings and contexts (Lamphere, et al. 1997a). Gendered social
actors are situated within larger socio-cultural systems and structures ofknowledge and
power which both shape (and constrain) the possibilities for action, as well as provide
resources which individuals use to (re)produce, negotiate, and transform (though not
always consciously) those very systems (Ortner 1996b). By focusing on "situated
masculinities," we can attend to the ways in which men and women have access to
different "points ofprivilege and subordination" through such positionings (Anzaldua
1987; Haraway 1991; Sandoval 1991). Such an approach allows us to explore the ways
in which men and women may engage in both hegemonic and marginalized gender
practices, draw upon hegemonic constructs for contradictory and even subversive
51
purposes, occupy differently gendered positions of power or disempowerment depending
upon the context, and take up or ignore hegemonic ideologies promoted in institutional
sites.
En-gendering men in the Pacific
Such an approach to situated gender practices has generally been absent in
depictions of Oceanic men. Rather, what one finds is the recurrence of tropes of the
'noble savage' and the 'ignoble savage,' usually associated with the contradistinctions
between Polynesians/Melanesians, light-skinned/dark-skinned, and civilized/uncivilized
(Jolly 1997).3 These alternate views ofthe noble and ignoble savage have historically
structured the ways in which outsiders have viewed indigenous Pacific Islanders.
Anthropologists too have variously contributed to the notions of 'primitivism' that have
attended such representations. Early ethnographic descriptions were heavily Euro- and
androcentric, commonly portraying Polynesian men as strong, active, sexually
dominating, kapu or "sacred", and holding titles of chieftainship that were usually passed
down patrilineally; women on the other hand were portrayed as being weak, passive,
restricted in their movements and actions, sexually sanctioned, and noa or "profane,"
especially during the time oftheir menstruation when they are seen as polluting (Howard
and Kirkpatrick 1989:78). Men also conduct warfare and carry out heavy, outdoor tasks
such as farming, deep sea fishing, preparing earth ovens, and carving canoes and images;
women perform light tasks such as weeding, cleaning, taking care ofchildren, fishing on
the reef, cooking, weaving mats, and pounding tapa (barkcloth) (ibid.:79). Ortner (1981)
also highlights enforced virginity on unmarried girls, high frequencies of rape, and the
subordination of wives to husbands in the household; ultimately she argues that
Polynesian societies are male dominant hegemonies (Ortner 1996a).
52
On the other hand, ample evidence has been produced that contradicts such an
easy characterization. Critjcs point to the existence of highly powerful and sacred
women (Gunson 1987; Linnekin 1990), the fact that rank trumps gender in Polynesian
societies, the frequency by which descent was reckoned bilaterally, the formalized
relations ofreverence and deference between brothers and sisters, and the alternative
interpretation that women were not "profane" and repelling the gods but actually
attracting them during the time ofmenstruation (Hanson 1982). Additionally alternative
gender practices and sexualities prevalent throughout Polynesia complicate any stable
dichotomy between men and women (Besnier 1994; Elliston 1999).
The central problem here is the extent to which we can read gender into different
cultural and historical systems. In many Polynesian societies, gender cannot be easily
separated out and left to stand on its own as a meaningful construct for understanding
social life (Elliston 1997; Thomas 1987). Precolonial gender practices ofmasculinity and
femininity should more appropriately be understood as always articulated and deeply
interpolated with other social organizational principles such as rank, place, kinship, and
birth order. One needs to analyze carefully the ways in which precolonial indigenous
epistemologies (to the extent they can be known) organized ideas ofpersonhood, identity,
sociality, agency, and desire differently than modem Euro-American ways of construing
these concepts, and in what contexts and sets ofrelations the gendering of social actors
became more or less salient. Because of the constraints ofthis chapter, I do not here
explore these very important dimensions ofprecolonial social life, but instead raise these
issues to suggest that a different set ofdynamics were in play before the intrusion of
western imperialism.'
53
Colonizing masculinities in Hawai'i and the Pacific
If colonialism is the organizing principle that structures attempts at
decolonisation, then any attempt to theorise the possibilities implied by the
notion of 'native masculinity' must take account of the colonial context in
which these particular subjectivities are produced.
Donna C. Matahaera-Atariki, Maori feminist scholar, 1999
5
A number ofrecent critical feminist perspectives in anthropology, post-colonial
studies, and cultural studies have brought to light the highly gendered nature of
colonialism (Enloe 1990; Ferguson and Turnbull 1999; McClintock 1995; Stoler 2002).
In the Pacific, Jolly and Macintyre's (1989) collection demonstrates the ways in which
colonialism was built upon the reordering ofthe family and gender practices, especially
along the lines ofChristian precepts. Merry (2000) argues that laws creating new forms
of marriage and new restrictions on sexuality were central to the civilizing process in
19th century Hawai'i. The bourgeois family was constructed as the model to be
emulated and was enforced by law. Masculinity was now defined by ownership and
control ofproperty, which included both land, women and children. This was in stark
contrast to precolonial practices in which men were stewards of the land, women
exercised autonomy in conjugal relationships, and the family unit was an extended rather
than nuclear one (Merry 2000:230).
These works reveal the highly patriarchal nature of colonialism and the ways in
which the control of women's bodies was/is a central feature in the construction of
empire in Polynesia. As Fanon (1967) noted early on, the structure of the white family,
with the dominant patriarchal father and his submissive wife, serves as a model for the
structure ofcolonial society as a whole. This is both reflective and constitutive ofthe
54
highly (Euro-American) masculinized nature of international politics (Enloe 1990). As
such, even anti-colonial nationalisms tend to be structured by patriarchy, configuring the
woman as the embodiment of tradition and mother of the nation that needs to be
protected by militarized masculine men (a construction which also has no place for gay
men) (Enloe 1990; Yuval-Davis and Anthias 1989).
Empire building (and dismantling) relies not only on a reconfiguration of gender
relations between men and women, but also on a restructuring ofrelationships among
different groups of men. Sinha's (1995) theorization of 'colonial masculinity' in 19th
century India highlights the mutual constitution of "manly" colonizer and the
emasculated colonized man. It is the perception ofemasculation and effeminacy that
works to mobilize the militant and nationalistic sentiments of colonized men.
Importantly, the various constructs ofmasculinity were tied to specific practices ofrule in
colonial India; this reflects the fact that notions of masculinity require the daily exercise
of power, just as power itself depends on these hegemonic constructs (Enloe 1990:3-4).
As a number of other anti-colonial critics have noted, "[t]he demasculinization of
colonized men and the hypermasculinity of European males represent principle assertions
ofwhite supremacy" (Stoler 1991:56). Likewise, colonialism and nationalism typically
spring "from masculinized memory, masculinized humiliation and masculinized hope"
(Enloe 1990:44).
An understanding of these gendered power relations allows us to better
comprehend some ofthe aspects of 19th century Hawaiian Kingdom politics. The works
of Merry (2000) and Silva (1999b) reveal that acceptance by the world powers as a nation
required a display ofproperly masculine, modem civilization. Efforts to maintain
Hawaiian sovereignty thus included (among many other things) the adoption of western
(patriarchal) law and the display and celebration ofthe masculine heroism of the Kanaka
55
past. As the biggest threat came from the cadre of elite American expatriate men living
in the islands, Hawaiian men used nationalist newspapers to critique haole dominance,
both through political speeches as well as through published stories of male heroes such
as Kaweloleimakua. Kawelo was a legendary chief from Kaua'i who embodied the
exemplar of 'Oiwi masculinity. A devout worshipper ofhis gods and generous leader,
his prowess in fighting, farming, and dancing the hula was unparalleled. Importantly, he
was also a chief from a junior line who defeated and usurped the power of his oppressive
cousin who was ruler of the island; the allegorical parallels to the colonial situation were
well understood by the readers (Silva 1999:17-58).
Some of the later monarchs also sought to strengthen the monarchy through
practices associated with Freemasonry (Karpiel 2(00). As Karpiel (2000) notes,
Alexander Liholiho (Kamehameha IV), Lot Kapuaiwa (Kamehameha V), David
KaHikaua and his sister Li1i 'uoka1ani (through her brother and husband) all drew upon
Masonic practices ofritual and fellowship, which resonated with indigenous ones, to
increase their own spiritual power and influence and facilitate coalition building with
influentialforeigners. In 1865, Kamehameha V drew upon Masonic and other European
traditions when he created the Royal Order ofKamehameha in 1865, a fraternal
organization that rewarded individuals for service to the Kingdom (Karpiel 2000:380 
381). Kalakaua also incorporated elements of the Masonic organizational structure in his
(re)creation ofthe Hale Naua, a secret society ofhigh ranking men and women that
studied ancient Hawaiian and modem sciences as well as genealogies. Based upon the
Hale Naua council of chiefs in precolonial times, Kalakaua's modem version combined
elements of the old and the new in an effort to revitalize and legitimate Hawaiian cultural
practices in a modem context (KarpieI1998:216-256)
56
Despite these interventions (some of which were more subversive than others),
the racialized and gendered forces of American colonialism undermined the attempts at
securing Hawaiian sovereignty and cultural integrity. In 1893 Queen Lili'uokalani was
illegally overthrown, and in 1898 the U.S. illegitimately annexed Hawai'i. Hawai'i
became an official colonial Territory in 1900, and a state in 1959.
6
As Hawai'i moved
from a plantation economy to one dependent upon military and tourism, the colonial
system produced specifically gendered, classed, and racialized identities that maintained
the changing configurations of capital and culture.
A number of scholars have argued that the ascendance of American hegemony
was predicated upon the colonial feminization of Hawai'i and its people; the discourses
ofmilitarism and tourism figured Hawai'i as the "hula maiden" waiting to be taken
(Desmond 1999; Ferguson and Turnbull 1999; Trask 1993b). As Ferguson and Turnbull
(1999:40) write:
The ascension of white male power had not only spelled out safety for the sugar
industry and the military, but it began to underwrite the sexual fantasies and social
practices oftourism as well. Desire and anxiety worked together to create the
exotic/erotic Other. Feminized Hawaiian males, desexed Asian menials, and
exoticized Hawaiian "hula-hula" girls constituted the sturdy labor base and the
refigured subjects for this new order.
They trace the ways in which the transformation ofbeaches for the tourist economy of
the 20th century resulted in the replacement of 'Oiwi fishermen "by the domesticated
gentle male Hawaiians" (recalling the noble savage) who "paddled canoes", "taught
tourists to surf', "strung leis, sang, and strummed ukuleles" (p.38). Desmond (1999)
describes the ways that these "beachboys," who were always portrayed as "easygoing,
playful, and happy-go-lucky" (p.127) boys (not men), offered white women and men a
57
Figs. 5 (left) and 6 (right). Images from the Old Lahaina Lii'au abound
in internet websites that promote tourist activities on Maui. Hawaiian men
represent a "soft" primitive masculinity, one that is safe and ready to serve.
Sources: Fig 5: http://www.alohafrommaui.com/old_lahaina_luau.htm
Fig 6: http://www.mauiactive.com/adventures.html
Figs. 7 (left) and 8 (right). Duke Kahanamoku immortalized in a U.s.
stamp (August 2002) and a landmark statue in Waikiki.
Sources: Fig 7: http://starbulletin.com/2002/08/24/news/indexl.html
Fig 8: http://www.hawaiiweb.com/html/duke_kahanamoku_statue.html
58
bronzed and well-muscled promise of social, sexual, physical, and moral freedom and
renewal in an Edenic paradise that was nonetheless modern, domesticated, familiar, and
non-threatening (p.129). Importantly, these representations continue to underwrite
today's tourist productions. These images were furthered by the fame and notoriety of
one ofthe original beachboys- the Olympic swimming gold medallist and "father of
surfing" Duke Paoa Kahanamoku (Timmons 1989:64-80). Kahanamoku was the first and
most lasting mediator of the modern touristic understanding ofHawai'i and Hawaiian
men: the embodiment of the Noble Savage, an ideal native whose "soft primitivism" was
"childlike, libidinous, free, and natural" (Desmond 1999: II).
Yet as Stoler (1997:374) and others have made clear, to see sexual domination as
merely a social metaphor for Euro-American supremacy and power is to miss the
pragmatics of how "gender-specific sexual sanctions demarcated positions ofpower by
refashioning middle-class conventions of respectability, which, in turn, prescribed the
personal and public boundaries ofrace." The key site for the affirmation and
maintenance of the bourgeois self was in the regulation ofthe domestic sphere and ofthe
conduct and the bodies of white women who were figured as the bearers of a proper
colonial morality and bourgeois respectability (Stoler 1997:380). Colonized men were
often ascribed a heightened "primitive" sexuality which was perceived as a threat to
white women (cf. Torgovnick 1990). Yet as Stoler explains, the proliferation ofrape
charges against colonized men had virtually no correlation with the incidence of actual
rapes ofEuropean women by men of "color"; rather, the policing ofthe "Black Peril"
needs to be understood as an attempt by European communities to maintain the cohesion
ofcolonial systems which were becoming increasingly threatened from within (by other
Europeans in the colonies from different class backgrounds) and without (by colonized
men) (1997:381-2).
59
In Hawai'i, the Massie case of 1931-32 captured many of these gendered
dynamics of the threat of colonized males' sexuality (which resonated with Black/White
relations on the continent at the time). By the 1930s, racial and class tensions had
escalated as Kanaka Maoli and immigrant workers and their descendants openly
contested the hegemony of the haole elite in the islands (Rosa 1999; 2000). Likewise an
influx of"mainlanders" from the continent created new enclaves of white (mostly
military) Americans who expressed open disdain for the high number of "colored" people
in the islands (Rosa 2000:98). In 1931, five young working-class men (two Native
Hawaiians, one Hawaiian-Chinese, and two Japanese Americans) were accused ofraping
Thalia Massie, the twenty-year-old wife of a Naval lieutenant stationed at Pearl Harbor
and daughter of a rich Kentucky family. When the case ended in a mistrial because of
inconsistencies in the testimonies and the establishment of the five young men's presence
elsewhere at the time of the rape, two acts of "vigilantism" were carried out in which
Horace Ida (Japanese) was abducted and beaten by a group of Navy men and Joseph
Kababawai (the Hawaiian identified as being the "darkest" of the youths) was kidnapped
and shot to death by Massie's mother, husband, and two Naval midshipmen. The four
were later convicted for manslaughter <jlld sentenced to ten years hard labor but
immediately had their sentences commuted by the Territorial Governor (who apparently
was under pressure from Congress and the Navy) to one day (Rosa 2000:95-96).
Rosa notes that Thalia Massie's story ofthe rape became a powerful mobilizing
force for the haole community to defend white womanhood against the "natives" (here
constructed as the nasty, ignoble savage); more importantly, the story was a rallying call
to the haole community to guard and preserve the gendered boundaries of race and class
which maintained white privilege and property in the islands (1999:89-104). The O'abu 
based newspaper Honolulu Star-Bulletin reproduced an article by noted film actress
60
Dorothy Mackaill that was published by the Interoational News Service. I quote the first
half at length here for the light it sheds on how Hawaiian and other local men were
perceived in relation to notions of white power, purity, property, and propriety:
It had to come!
The "beach boys"-really full grown Kanaka-that is to say pure-blooded
Hawaiians-have had many romances with rich American women who have gone
to the islands as tourists and been enthralled with its Eden-like fascination.
Invited by Women
These affairs have been invited by the white women visitors. The "beach
boys" have been spoiled by so many American women paying attention to them.
By contrast, they are extremely deferential when put in their place.
The killing of Kahahawai is deplorable. It is a tribute to the real Hawaiian
people that none of the men accused of attacking Mrs. Massie was a Kanaka. The
five men were mixed breed.
And let me say right now that the mixed element now on the island of
Oahu is living dynamite. It is a racial mixture ofJapanese, Portuguese, Chinese
and Polynesian. What can we expect ofthese people when they see Kanakas
openly receiving the attentions ofAmerican white women?
It is little short of disgraceful to see how SOme white women lie on the
beach at Waikiki, in abbreviated bathing suits, and permit the "beach boys" to rub
them with cocoanut oil so they will get a good tan.
White women can easily lose all sense ofmoral balance in the South Seas,
and they get the first touch of it in the Hawaiian islands ("'Living Dynamite'"
1932).
61
One of the notable features ofthis article is the ways in which race and gender are
imaged from the position of an elite white woman from the U.S. continent. Mackaill's
letter reflects many of the dominant discourses on race, gender, and class that maintain
white supremacy. The key point here is to understand the ways in which the colonial
politics ofexclusion hinged upon the regulation and policing of the sexual and domestic
life of the colonizer and colonized. One also sees the operation of a more basic
oppOSition of nature/culture, with "education" and domestication a means of transforming
. the native male into a more finished product, again setting up the dichotomy of
noble/ignoble savage masculinity; this is either consummated with marriage into "white
families" or forever tainted by breeding with "Orientals."
Though an extreme example, the Massie trials and the killing of Kahahawai bring
into high relief the physical and symbolic violence enacted upon indigenous men in the
colonial context. In settler colonies such as Aotearoa and Hawai'i, the effects of
colonization on indigenous men have become topics of great concern. In both
populations, indigenous peoples account for some ofthe worst statistics in health, crime,
poverty, unemployment, incarceration, and alcohol and drug abuse in their respective
societies. The 1991 Hui Hauora Tane held on the Takapuwahia Marae, Porirua, focused
on the health of Maori men. The report by Te Wahanga Hauora Maori (199 I) details the
ways in which Pakeha colonization worked to marginalize Maori men by devaluing their
positions in society, appropriating their lands, removing their economic and cultural
assets, and denying them oftheir rangatiratanga (self-determination). Likewise, a report
on Maori Family Violence in Aotearoa (1997) published by Te Puni Kokiri (Ministry of
Maori Development) argues that the loss of traditional beliefs, separation from the land,
breakdown oftraditional structures of leadership and community, and poor achievement
in education and employment have all contributed to the abusive and hypermasculine
62
behaviors exhibited in Maori men today. Crabbe (1997) reports similar findings in his
study on alcohol/substance abuse and family violence among Hawaiian men (see chapter
6). The popular magazine Honolulu even ran an article entitled "The Destruction of the
Hawaiian Male" (Nunes and Whitney 1994; See Chapter 1). Obviously these
characterizations do not extend to all Maori and 'Qiwi men, for indeed there are many
men that have adjusted well to western societies. However, these various reports do
illustrate that colonial masculinities have worked to disempower and marginalize many
Native men.
Pyke (1996) notes that lower-class men often exhibit hypermasculine behaviors
(e.g. heightened physical prowess, drug and alcohol abuse, sexual conquests, and spousal
abuse) to compensate for their subordinated status. Connell (1995: 113) explains that this
'protest masculinity' (or 'compensatory masculinity' in Pyke's [1996:531] words) arises
from an experience ofpowerlessness and leads to an exaggerated claim to the gendered
position ofmasculine power. These hypermasculinities are often found in lower-status
men, motorcycle clubs, and urban (especially ethnic) gangs (Pyke 1996:531; Connell
1995: Ill). Additionally, there is "a lot of concern with face" and "keeping up a front"
(Connell 1995: 111), and these displays ofhypermasculine behavior are often situational
and context dependent (Pyke 1996:542).
Pyke also notes that while compensatory behaviors may be seen as a response to
hegemonic masculinity, they also work as its unintentional confirmation (1996:531).
Higher-class men point out the violence and misogyny ofhypermasculine practices "as
an example of the untamed masculine brutality that they, supposedly, do not share"
(p.532), thereby reaffirming their superiority and dominance over lower-class men.
When these lower class men are also colonized men, these behaviors articulate with even
larger colonial stereotypes and presumptions that have historically been used to
63
disempower their people. A perfect example is the Maori character Jake Heke of the film
Once Were Warriors (Brown 1994). Born of slave heritage, Jake "the Muss" (so named
for his "muscular" brutality) spends his days and nights drinking and fighting at the local
pub and then takes the party home to his home in the housing projects of South Auckland
where he regularly beats his wife (who is herself of chiefly heritage). He has long been
alienated from his past and those warrior traditions that may help him achieve a more
positive Native masculinity. For the uncritical viewer, this image of the modem Maori
man is accepted as "normal," precisely because of the fact that violence is in their nature
(Wall 1998).
Hokowhitu (2003) argues that such representations of Maori masculinity are best
understood as tactics ofpower that are constantly redeployed to relegate indigenous men
to the realm ofthe savage, brutal, physical, Other. By putting the natives "in their place,"
the larger New Zealand society maintains control over Maori bodies. In both Hawai'i
and Aotearoa, the military and sports serve as primary sites for the inscriptions of
masculinities, identities, and power onto 'Oiwi and Maori men. Thus I find it useful to
examine the participation of indigenous men in these institutions to see how colonial
hierarchies are authorized, and, conversely, if these hierarchies can be contested by
Polynesian men.
Militarv, sports, and masculinities
Two ofthe most important and deeply interpolated sites for the production of
modern masculinities are the military and sports. In Hawai'i, the most heavily
militarized state (or colony) ofthe U.S., the military plays a key role in the maintenance
of the colonial order, especially in the current context of America's war against the world
(Ferguson and Turnbull 1999; Kajihiro 2000; Trask 2002). The military also plays a key
64
role in the defining of gendered citizenship. Following Kann (1991), Ferguson and
Turnbull (1999:158) note that the civic virtue and proper masculinity in the U.S. evolved
in a triangle ofpatriarchal fathers, soldier sons, and domesticity (mothers). This
patriarchal model of citizenship is articulated with notions of race, class, and sexuality,
making it more difficult for non-whites, homosexuals, or independent women to enter the
triangle. This triangle is rooted in the republican tradition of civic virtue and the liberal
tradition stressing of individualism, equal rights, and property. It works to "create men
who, lured by the privileges of patriarchal fatherhood, tamed by the ministrations of
mothers, and disciplined by the severities ofsoldiering, could be trusted with extensive
individual rights" (Ferguson and Turnbull 1999:158). For young American men, "the
martial ethic in America was an enduring challenge to youth to prove their manhood,
practice self-denial, demonstrate obedience, and exhibit the civic virtue that informally
qualified them to assume manhood and citizenship in a society that treated masculinity,
fatherhood, fraternity, and military service as necessary prerequisites to individualism"
(Kann 1991:292 cited in Ferguson and Turnbull 1999:159). Ferguson and Turnbull note
that the Japanese-American men who served in the highly decorated 442nd Regimental
Combat Team were required to perform masculine acts ofheroism and patriotism as
American soldiers in order to prove that they were loyal citizens rather than the "enemies
within" the United States; "to become real Americans, these males had to become real
men" (1999:160). However, even this participation did not totally allow them to
transcend all barriers as returning servicemen continually ran into racist exclusions.
Ferguson and Turnbull (1999:173) note that the military's "pedagogy of
citizenship" is reproduced throughout the larger society ofHawai'i in such "capillaries"
of the Boy Scouts, the Honolulu Chamber of Commerce, and the Junior Reserve
Officers' Training Corps (IROTC). Though they make no mention of it, the IROTC
65
played a large role in the colonization of elite Hawaiian males who were required to take
JROTC at the Kamehameha Schools for Boys in Honolulu, which in the early part of the
twentieth century was designated a full military institute (Kahapea 1987: 15).
Figure 9. Cadets of Kamehameha School for Boys Stand in formation. c.1920s.
Photo courtesy ofBishop Mu eum Archives.
Indeed, though Ferguson and Turnbull provide a cogent argument to the role of
the military in the maintenance of hegemonic masculinity, they are conspicuously silent
on the engagements of indigenous men within the colonizer's army. Pukui, Haertig and
Lee (1972, Vol 2:305) note:
Though men were frozen in jobs, and draft was deferred in Hawai'i, the great
proportion of Hawaiian and part-Hawaiian men of military age served in the
armed forces.... [I]f we judge by Hawaiian names, at least 56 Hawaiian and part-
Hawaiian men who gave their lives in World War II had won such high military
honors as the Distinguished Flying Cross with one, two, and three Oak-Leaf
Clusters, Bronze and Silver Stars.
66
One returning hero was Alexander Kahapea who graduated from Kamehameha in 1936.
Kahapea served as a Captain in the 83rd Infantry Division, Thunderbolt, in the European
Theater and became the most highly decorated war veteran from Hawai'i (Kahapea
1990:7). Other 'Oiwi war heroes mentioned by Pukui, Haertig and Lee include Private
First Class Herbert K. Pilila'au, the first Hawaiian to receive the Congressional Medal of
Honor (Korean War) and Sergeant First Class Rodney Yano, recipient of the Medal of
Honor in Vietnam. Both men lost their lives saving their fellow soldiers and were given
their awards posthumously (Pukui, et al. 1972, Vol 2:305-6).
'I::. •
Figs 10 and 11. Pfc. Herbert Pilila'au (left) and Sfc Rodney Yano (right).
Source: http://www.army.mil/cmh-pg/topics/apamlAp-moh.htm
67
Despite the significant contributions of Kanaka in the U.S. military, their
participation has been so overshadowed by the accomplishments ofthe Japanese 
Americans of the 442nd that the presence of 'Oiwi soldiers has been virtually erased. In
1972, Pukui, Haertig and Lee wrote:
[I]n the justified publicity given the AJAs, Hawaiian and part-Hawaiian
servicemen went almost unnoticed....Today, Hawaiian heroism seems forgotten.
In a group ofHawaiians and part-Hawaiians asked to list what they considered
"Hawaiian qualities," not one mentioned courage (Pukui, et al. 1972, Vol
2:305,306)
This erasure is, in many ways, consonant with the discourse of "disappearing
Hawaiians." This lack of "courage" also came to be one of the motivating forces in the
establishment of Na Koa (The Courageous Ones), as I trace out in the following chapter.
The non-presence of Kiinaka Maoli in narratives of military heroism stands in
stark contrast to the extensively lionized Maori Battalions in the two world wars (Cowan
1926; Gardiner 1992). Gardiner (1992) argues that various cultural notions (e.g.,
accruement of personal mana and the mana of the tribe through battle; leadership
development; and the exacting ()futu, revenge) figured prominently into Maori
participation in the wars. He asserts that the fonnation ofthe first Pioneer Battalion in
WWI was a part of a larger Maori social movement to achieve equal status with the
Pakeha, especially in light of the imperial policy that denied Maori an opportunity to
fight in 'white' wars (1992:13). Erai (1995) reports that some ofthe Maori men and
women she interviewed that were serving in the New Zealand Anny cite responsibilities
to the whanau (family) and iwi (tribe), the legacy ofthe Maori Battalions or ofprevious
family members who had joined the army, and, interestingly, the belief in a 'warrior
instinct' inherent in the Maori people as motivations for service. She also noted that
68
there were more opportunities afforded to Maori men than women to advance and enter
into relations of 'patriarchal bonding' with other men regardless of ethnic or rank
divisions (1995:54).
Comments by both Maori and 'Oiwi men suggest that their ethnic/racial identities
were salient markers of the types ofmasculinities they made claims to in the military
(Erai 1995; Pukui, et al. 1972, Vol 2:306). By proving that their courage and fighting
capabilities were equal to, if not superior to their white counterparts that they serve with,
indigenous men may have repudiated the colonizer's superiority and validated their own
masculinities. At the same time though, rather than challenging the social practice of
soldiery and the patriarchal triangle of which it is a part, 'Oiwi and Maori men become
complicit in ways with the maintenance of a Euro-American hegemonic institution which
.
naturalizes colonial rule by mapping it onto a system of gendered, raced, and classed
power relations.
On the other hand, a strong argument could also be made that 'Oiwi and Maori
men achieved specifically indigenous forms ofmasculinity through their involvement in
the military. As some of Erai's male interviewees suggested (as did Gardiner [1992:7 
11]), a specifically Maori warrior masculinity may have been achieved. Also, by entering
the military in order to fulfill obligations to the community, increase the mana of one's
family or tribe, improve one's socio-economic status, or merely to put food on the table,
Polynesian men are actively working to promote the survival and growth oftheir people.
In a racist colonial society with very few employment options available to Pacific
Islander men, this may have been one of the few options available for Maori and 'Oiwi
men to achieve a masculinity based on notions of family, leadership, providing, strength,
and mana (Ihimaera 2000).
69
Many of the same complexities and contradictions encountered by Polynesian
men situated in the military are echoed, reinforced, and often prefigured in the institution
of sports. Indeed, a number of scholars have highlighted the direct links between the
military, sports, masculinity, capitalism, and imperialism (Burstyn 1999; Wakefield
1997). In many ways the two institutions mutually inform and frame one and the other
through metaphoric and metonymic practices of representation that are inscribed in
regimes ofbodily training and performance. Burstyn (1999) argues that the political 
economic changes oflate nineteenth century capitalist societies hinged upon the
transformation ofhegemonic ideals ofmasculinity. The earlier ideal of the "the moral
and measured being of the eighteenth century" was replaced by "a physically dominating
and hypermasculine creation" (p.74) that was tamed through the discipline of "muscular
Christianity." Key to this training was sports, which built strength, created habits of
dominance, taught principles ofgroup effort and common goals, and promoted the values
of 19th century Christianity, thereby harnessing "men's sexual impulses in the service of
worthy social enterprises," namely capitalist-imperial expansion (p.92).
In the contemporary context of (neo)colonial global capitalism, multi-billion
dollar corporations market sport and sport-related products "as men's culture and as a
hypermasculine spectacle for society as a whole" (Burstyri 1999:104). Central to this
process are the affects and effects ofadvertising, which symbolically links the
viewer/consumer with the heroic figure of the male athlete/warrior (ibid.:144). Targeting
a white middle-class audience, images of strong, physical, working-class men evoke in
the "softer" men anxieties and envious identification (ibid.: 148). Messner (1994:98)
notes that these "tough guys" reaffirm the superiority ofmen vis-a-vis women and also
serve as the "other" against which "modern" men define themselves; "The 'tough guys'
are, in a sense, contemporary gladiators sacrificed so that elite men can have a clear sense
70
ofwhere they stand in the intermale pecking order" (cited in Burstyn 1999:208). Racial
hierarchies are recapitulated by the image of the "black super-athlete" who represents the
'tough guy' par excellence (Burstyn 1999:208). At the same time that they are
glamorized, they are also vilified as their hypermasculinity is always understood as being
"less than human" or even threatening to white property and bodies (See also hooks
1992).
In the colonial context ofAotearoa, both the Maori male athlete and his culture
are represented in the sport-media complex as the embodiment ofprimal, savage
warriorhood (Jackson and Hokowhitu 2002).7 Wall (1998:94) calls this stereotype the
"Maori as the primitive natural athlete, represented in all areas of sport, especially the
contact sports of rugby and rugby league (the latter is particularly relevant with the
establishment of the Auckland Warriors, who have adopted the stylized face of a Maori
Warrior as their emblem)." Again, this image is rooted in the much older colonial
stereotype of the Maori as the blood-thirsty savage.
The usurpation of the Maori as a sport symbol is rooted in the desires, envies,
anxieties, and fears of male colonizers whose own masculinity is defined with and against
the colonized man's. The appropriation of Native identity and masculinity is especially
notable in the performance of the haka (indigenous Maori dance) by the New Zealand All
Blacks national rugby team, as well as other rugby teams in Aotearoa and elsewhere
(Jackson and Hokowhitu 2002). The colonization of the haka as a "national" symbol
erases the histories of oppression in which Maori, though not passive, were far from
equal participants in the structuring of colonial society; adding to the appearance of
equality are the high numbers ofMaori and non-Maori Pacific Islanders on the team. The
notable visibility ofplayers that are racially marked as Polynesian tap multiple structures
of feeling which are complexly tied to colonial and nationalist histories and to notions of
71
masculinities in Aotearoa, and in many ways works to mask the underlying tensions still
extant as Polynesian men compete on and off the field (Star 1999).
It is also important to note that such (mis)appropriations of identity by the sports 
media complex can no longer go uncontested. After commencing its sponsorship of the
All Blacks in 1999, global sports goliath Adidas launched an advertising campaign that
featured the "primal" imagery of Maori warriors, the haka, and the All Blacks. In June
2000, an intense debate over intellectual property rights and cultural ownership erupted.
Maori groups filed lawsuits for compensation and applied for a trademark in order to
prevent further exploitation ("All Blacks Fight" 2000; Jackson and Hokowhitu 2002: 134 
137; "Nga Korero" 2000). Although Maori are actively resisting such blatant colonial
takings, Jackson and Hokowhitu note that the challenges posed by global capitalism are
immense indeed as "transnational corporations and their vast array of technologies
continue to benefit from an expanding environment of national, commercial, and legal
deregulation" (2002: 137).
In Hawai'i, debates over the racist and colonial representations of 'Oiwi
masculinity as the "Rainbow Warrior" mascot of the University of Hawai'i (UH) football
team led to a series of threats to the mascot and his retirement in 1999 (Ohira and Pang
1999; Star-Bulletin Staff 2000). In July 2000, UH unveiled their new logo of a stylized
green and white letter "H" with a pattern of geometrical shapes meant to replicate the
kapa designs; the helmet and pants were now black (whereas before only green and white
were used) and bands of triangles were printed around the upper arm and thigh in a
fashion similar to the tattoos worn by many local men (Reardon 2000; Tsai 2000).
Hawai'i's "new brand" would literally mark the beginning of an aggressive
merchandising campaign in Hawai'i, on the U.S. continent, and in Asia and Australia
(Reardon 2000).
72
Fig 12. Chris Brown sports new
logo of Warrior Football. Source:
http://starbulletin.com!2000/07/
28/sports/storyl.html
Fig 13. Viii "The Warrior" with Pro
Bowl MVP Ricky Williams. Source:
http://the.honoluluadvertiser.com!
article/2003/Feb/03/sp/spOla.html
Also, the football team alone officially changed their name from "Rainbow
Warriors" to "Warriors." Former UH wide receiver Kyle Mosley explained, "Being
called the Rainbows, especially for men's teams, left them open to ridicule. Warriors has
a much stronger connotation" (Reardon 2000). Former NFL player and UH assistant
coach Rich Miano stated, "We wanted to have something to do with toughness. I think
the rainbow thing...doesn't have what we're looking for in terms of the mentality of our
football players" (Tsai 2000). Athletic director Hugh Yoshida went as far as to comment
"That [rainbow] logo really put a stigma on our program at times in regards to it's part of
the gay community, their flags and so forth. Some of the student athletes had some
feelings in regards to that" (Staff and wire reports 2000). Yoshida's comments made
73
national headlines as the new logo and name suddenly became the center ofcontroversies
surrounding racism and sexism (Associated Press 2000). Debates over the historic,
cultural, social, and economic significance of the old and new symbols exploded-as did
sales of the new merchandise ("Letters" 2000; Murray 2000; "Notebook" 2000; Smith
2000). Importantly, all of this revolved around the re-defining, re-presenting, and
marketing of a "proper" masculinity, or as one commentator characterized it the "macho
makeover" (Memminger 2000) of Hawai'i's only collegiate football team.
Though Hawai'i does not own a team in the National Football League (NFL), it
does play host to the annual Pro Bowl, the all-star game usually held in February after the
Superbowl championship game. Organizers schedule a week-long series of events that is
meant to boost tourism and allow local families and military personnel stationed in
Hawai'i to interact with NFL players." As Hanlon points out, the military presence in the
various events is pervasive and points to the deeply intertwined histories of militarism,
sports, global capitalism, tourism and colonialism in Hawai'i (1999). Rex Johnson,
executive of the Hawai'i Tourism Authority (the governmental agency that for all intents
and purposes runs the economy of Hawai'i), spoke of the relationship between Hawai'i
and the NFL, "The goal is to tie the two most visible brands in sports and vacationing
together" (Eichelberger 2003:10).
As in all other major football games in Hawai'i these days, "The Warrior" makes
his appearance in face and body paint, grass skirt and armbands, tapa headband, boar tusk
necklace, drums, weapon, and a berserker fury in his eyes and voice. A doting Tongan
father and husband in his late thirties who had worked at the Polynesian Cultural Center
for nearly 20 years, ViIi Fehoko filled the vacuum created by the loss ofthe old UH
mascot football when coach June Jones invited him to come to games in 1999 to fire up
the crowd. Fans grew to love him, as have UH coaches and even NFL officials. After
74
his performance at the 2002 Pro Bowl, the NFL hired him to appear at the next Pro Bowl
and its week long events and also made an agreement to produce 2,500 "Warrior" trading
cards (Engle 2002; Simpson 2002; "UH Warrior" 2002; "Viii" 2002). The NFL's interest
in marketing Polynesian warriorhood speaks to the currency ofprimitive and savage
masculinity in the global sports market, such as I have discussed above. Viii's
representations of identity are much more degrading than anything the former mascot in
the muscle suit could have ever imagined, but no one has protested. Indeed, I would
argue that Viii's status as a Polynesian, and one who has become even more
knowledgeable through his own and his wife's collective knowledge and experiences as
workers at the PCC, give him special claims to authenticity and authority. But in so
doing, he portrays a primitive Polynesian masculinity that the elite class ofcapital and
power brokers exploit and redeploy as a "tactic of power" that maintains the gendered,
raced, and classed structures of inequality in Hawai'i and the Pacific (Hokowhitu 2003).
While the military and sports are largely hegemonic institutions, we should not
take for granted that they will always overdetermine the gendered identities ofthose who
participate in these sites. We need to remember that the situated gender practices of
indigenous men may often be at odds with or even subversive of the dominant ideologies
promoted in such institutions. Burstyn notes that the meaning of sport as symbolic war
could work to provide colonized men with "a possible 'level playing field' ...to beat the
masters at their own game" (1999:89). Diaz (2002) offers some important insights as he
reflects on his participation in the Tamuning Eagles, a youth football program in Guam
that was created by Native Hawaiians and Hawai'i-bom men who worked on Guam for
the U.S. Military in the 1970s. Noting the heavily colonized and hegemonic forms of
social practices that were en-gendered in such a site, he also shows that the team served
as an arena in which indigenous and non-indigenous islanders created surrogate familial
75
ties, localized and articulated hegemonic practices with indigenous ones (such as playing
Hawaiian music after games), and contested the military's presence on the island.
Similarly, the ironies of serving in the colonizer's army brought about radical
transformations in Kanaka Maoli activists such as Keli'i "Skippy" Ioane and Keanu Sai.
Both men found themselves questioning their service in an institution that was actively
maintaining colonial authority in Hawai'i. Yet they also state that their military training
has better prepared them for the battles of decolonization, to which they now devote all of
their energies. These transformations are representative of the redefining of indigenous
masculinities in an era ofdecolonization.
Conclusion: decolonizing masculinitiesC?)
In order to get our lands back we must take that important step of saying
those lands are ours. That is a real test of our future. Many in the
movement before were strong but have become dependent to survive. It's
understandable how that happened, but we lose the struggle when we
agree to the terms of our oppression. It's not just about collecting one 
fifth income from the stolen lands, but all ofit, and the ocean connecting
ka pae'aina [the island chain). It's hard - we need warriors. And the
struggle continues.
Kekuni Blaisdell, Kanaka Maoli doctor and independence leader, 2003
9
Since the 1960s, 'Oiwi and Maori people have been engaging in a variety of
different struggles for land, self-determination and decolonization. While the military
and sports remain hegemonic in nature, Kanaka Maoli and Tangata Maori men are now
also returning to "traditional" institutions for the achievement of indigenous
76
masculinities. Some of these practices include dance, tattooing, ocean voyaging, martial
art forms, and warrior traditions. Smith (1999: 104) writes of the Maori:
It is not surprising that in New Zealand the renewed focus on warrior traditions
has corne at a time when Maori people sense a turning point which could go either
forward or backward. For Maori that tradition is to be found in the often quoted
saying of the chief Rewi Maniapoto, Ka whawhai tonu matou, ake tonu ake, 'we
will fight on for ever and ever'.
Though by no means the sole province ofmen, such attitudes and practices are often
figured in masculine terms, and are therefore seen as desirable for anticolonial projects of
reclamation.
As I mentioned earlier, many Kiinaka Maoli are now practicing "masculinized"
traditions that have been directly influenced by or borrowed from Maori practices. There
is an ironic parallel here with the appropriation of Maori masculinity by mainstream
society in that both 'Oiwi men and white men are seeking to reconnect with a warrior
tradition. However, for Kiinaka Maoli, many see these forms as being part of a shared
Polynesian culture, and the identification of Kiinaka as the "older siblings" in Maori
traditions allows 'Oiwi men to make claims on a shared heritage. The important part of
this claim is that masculinity is identified with authentic traditions ofprecolonial
Polynesian society that were able to resist the perceived feminization and emasculation
that accompanied colonization in Hawai'i. As Harper (1996:ix) notes in regards to Black
men, claims to an "authentic" identity "are largely animated by a profound anxiety about
the status specifically of African-American masculinity." For Kiinaka Maoli, these
anxieties are resolved, in part, by reconnecting with the masculinity of their ancestors and
they Polynesian brothers.
77
However, these same ideologies of gendered power and authority have come
under heavy critique by indigenous Maoli and Maori women (Hoskins 2000; Trask 1984;
1999). In their view, the articulation of masculine power and authority with sovereignty
and self-determination represents a double-colonization for indigenous women as they
become disempowered by both larger white society and their own men. In light of such
critique, Kanaka 'Oiwi and Tangata Maori men are hard pressed to find tactics of
producing decolonized masculinities.
One possibility may be the structuring of gender practices along the lines of
"pono." Kame'eleihiwa (1992; 1999) argues that the philosophy ofpono in gender
relations entails balance, well-being, and righteousness. Most ofall it is an understanding
of the entities of Kii (the man) and Hina (the woman) needed to be in balance for all
things to be right. This philosophy is specifically laid out by Pukui et al (1972) in various
discnssions ofhealth and healing. Many 'Oiwi and Maori people today are struggling to
find how exactly such a balance between Kii/Hina and Tii/Hine is to be achieved. It is
here, perhaps, that there lies a chance for effective change; the outcome remains to be
seen.
The decolonization of indigenous masculinities will require not only a
restructuring of the way in which we see ourselves, but also the ways in which we
perform ourselves and be ourselves. We must be able to read the ways in which
masculinities articulated in decolonization movements may alternatively work to
empower and disempower our people in new and old ways. It is misleading to draw a
distinct line between masculinities produced in colonizing and in decolonizing contexts;
in both situations, gender practices are defined in relation to both men and women of
colonizer and colonized societies. The trick is to find ways in which newer practices
enable us to reclaim mana in ways that will help us to better negotiate the larger
78
frameworks of gendered, raced, and classed power dynamics which both structure and are
structured by our actions as men and women. It is this challenge that the Hale Mua has
taken up. Specifically, the Mua has taken on the task ofreclaiming the masculine mana
ofKu that is perceived as lacking. In the following chapters I will detail both the
promises and problematics of these projects ofreclamation, first by laying out its origins
at the ceremonies of Pu'ukohoHi and then by detailing and theorizing the Mua in practice
and in the life stories of its members.
ENDNOTES
I This chapter is a modified version ofan essay I published as "(En)gendering
Colonialism: Masculinities in Hawai'i and Aotearoa" (2002) in Cultural Values: Journal
for Cultural Research 6(3):239-256. A number of individuals gave invaluable help
through editorial comments, foremost among them Deborah Elliston, Geoffrey White,
Ping-Ann Ado, and HokiJ. Aikau. I also thank J. Kehaulani Kauanui, David Addison,
Akihiro Inoue, Vilsoni Hereniko, Chris Yano, Ben Finney, Noenoe Silva, Jesse Makani
Markham, and the members of ASAO 2002 working session on "Gender Histories in the
Pacific" for all their help.
2 I recognize that the use of the terms "Polynesia(n),""Melanesia(n)," and
"Micronesia(n)" impute a false sense ofhomogeneity and discreetness and that these
anthropologically defined cultural boundaries are both arbitrary and problematic (Thomas
1989). However, many indigenous Pacific Islanders within Polynesia have chosen to
adopt the term either out of convention or as a "strategic essentialism" for the forging of
trans-Polynesian ties; such was the case when Witi Ihimaera, a gay Maori novelist, gave
his speech on reclaiming Polynesian masculinities at the University ofHawai'i (Ihimaera
2000). I use the term out of convenience but not with an uncritical acceptance of the
baggage they carry.
Of course the same argument on terminology can and has been made for the concepts
"the Pacific/Pacific Island(er)s" or "Ocean/Oceanic." I use both "Pacific Islands" and
"Oceania" (and the corollary labels for the indigenous Pacific Island/Oceanic inhabitants)
interchangeably throughout this essay. I agree with Hau'ofa's (1993) assertion that we
need to reorient our perspectives as Island people to the larger interconnections we share
with all other Oceanians; however, I still find use for the term Pacific.
79
3 Both Jolly (1997) and Thomas (1989; 1997) note the feminization of European images
ofPolynesians as the more "civilized" and "noble" savage as opposed to the dark, fierce,
tribal, "nasty" Melanesian savage male, thus showing the racialization of savage
masculinity in the Pacific.
4 See Linnekin (1990), Kame'eleihiwa (1999), Ralston (1993) and Hoskins (2000) for
attempts at reconstructing the place ofHawaiian and Maori women in pre-colonial social
and cultural orders.
5 Matahaera-Atariki (1999: 11).
6 For a wide range ofdiscussions on the political, legal, social, and cultural history of
Kanaka 'Qiwi sovereignty and nationhood, see Kauanui (1998; 1999), Osorio (2002),
Merry (2000), Craven (2002), H. Trask (1999), M. Trask (2000b), Silva (1997),
McGregor (2002), Lindsey (2002), Kanehe (2001), Hasager and Friedman, eds (1994),
and Kent (1993).
7 For a discussion on similar issues relating to the Indian mascots in North America, see
Churchill (1994)
8 See ("2003 NFL Pro Bowl" 2003) for the 2003 Pro Bowl week schedule.
9 Kelly (2003:8).
80
CHAPTER 4
MO'OLELO 0 PU'UKOHOLA:
RE-MEMBERING NATIONHOOD AND KOA AT THE TEMPLE OF STATE
On the 13th of August, last yeah, a wooden ahu (altar) was raised at the land
called, ah, Pu'ukoholii, the Mound ofthe Whale, and fonykalo and fony'uala
(sweet potatoes) were put aboard, one ka'au (full measure of forty). They are
passing stones of wisdom right now, like they passed stones of industry then, fo'
one yeah. And on August 17th, 1791, they consecrated the temple ofunification,
the sometimes residence ofthe god of state, misnomerly called the god of war.
Whether by marriage, treaty, orpress ofarms, Kiikii'ilimoku presided over all of
that, so it's the god of state. That date is on us. So if you a po'e Kanaka, there's
only one place to be. And so they have passed out a brochure, or a two-page
report, dat talks about da principles ofda gathering there, and that it's on its way;
it's rushing at us (Ka'ai 1991).
Wearing two lei-one ofseed and one ofmaile vine--over his printed black
kihei (rectangular material worn over the shoulder) and tan shirt, Sam Kaha'i Ka'ai spoke
to a crowd of about fifty students at the University of Hawai'i at Manoa Campus Center
on February 12, 1991. Sam had been going from island to island giving talks about the
upcoming bicentennial commemoration ofPu'ukoholii, the heiau that marked
Kamehameha's ascent as sovereign over Hawai'i (both the island and later the whole
archipelago) and also the last major heiau erected before the toppling ofthe old religio-
political system. The presentation was taped, and it now resides in various libraries
across the University ofHawai'i system. History--or at least one version ofit.
81
or=u-
ISLAND OF HAWAII
ClU££N £Iill.lo\ rOU!tOA!lQN
lANDS OQNA'lU) 10 1H(
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PU'UKOHOLA HEIAU
Notional Historic Site
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Figure 14. Site plan ofPu'ukohola Heiau NHS.
From Development Concept Plan.
Source:http://wwwoCrJlps.gov/history/onlinebooksikona/history7a.htm
82
Sam pulled out a ti leaf cape and explained that men and women were making
these for the occasion. He called up Keone Nunes to don the cape and to wield a pahoa
(dagger) in one hand and an ihe (spear) in the other. Sam jabbed with his own ihe and
had Keone deflect the blow with the pahoa and counterattack with the ihe. He thanked
Keone and took back the pahoa, telling everyone that he was one who was coming to
Pu'ukohola. Spinning the pahoa in his hand, he remarked, "All ofdese tings are being
fabricated because we are trying to walk the talk; it is not enough any more to come as
the audience." He carried on:
On the seventeenth ofAugust, there's gonna be a guy in Las Vegas playing
blackjack, and he will whispah dat he's a Hawaiian. Dere's gonna be a guy at
0'ahu Country Club hittin' a little ball around, playin' dat Scotch sport ofprotest
called golfing, and he's gonna whispah dat he's Hawaiian. And dere are going to
be one ka'au: ten men in a row, four rows, everyone wit' one ofdose (pointing at
the cape) and a battle pike sixteen feet long called a pololii. There will be othah
men that we are calling, and I am calling it from dis audience too. We need 150
men to stand in da 'au ali'i, not da "court,"da 'au ali'i (group ofchiefs). And so
here(??) are being made. You wanna leam about it? Sixteenth, seventeenth,
Pu'ukohola, we're givin' a lecture; we putting da points on da offensive javelin
(thrusting with the pahoa in his hand) (Ka'ai 1991).
He spoke of a woman named Thelma Ka'awaloa who was making the kahili (feather
standards) in the traditional manner, spending a total of 3,000 hours on them. Why were
they doing this? To hear "the growling ofthe heavens," the "ancient murmur" ofthe
ancestors. He then pulled up another member of the audience to read the purposes that
were listed on the handout:
83
1) To commemorate in an authentic Hawaiian manner that decisive event in
Hawaiian history 200 years ago at Pu'ukohoHi, Kawaihae, Hawai'i, that signaled
the ascendancy of Kamehameha the Great, and decided forever the socio-political
course of these islands.
2) To unite in harmony of body, mind, and spirit all Hawaiians, and especially
those descendants whose ancestors 200 years ago engaged in epic struggle for
ascendancy and dominion, and to heal now and forever, the bitterness, grievance,
and enmity of the past 200 years.
3) To address historic and contemporary consequences of statecraft, human
warfare, and human welfare, as we strive to understand and appreciate those
meanings for our own lives today, and in the future (Ka'ai 1991).
Sam went on to say that these ideas are not demanding, but timely. He explained that any
Hawaiian organization coming needed to bring a real kailili and an offering of forty of
any kind (taro, banana, fish, etc.). For all groups, whether they are from institutions or
representatives of their families, he said:
We going to do it in the Polynesian manner, up front, because we have this
license, this big, cycloptic-you folks know about this cycloptic virus in Hawai'i?
(smiles and points to the camera) He heard da story; dat's why he laughing. You
folks know 'bout it, eh? The most sane, and courteous people, with the most
wonderful smiles, take one of dese devices, put it up to deah eye, lose one eye,
and have a single viewpoint, a cycIoptic viewpoint, and den dey take broad
license to (runs up to student and pretends to take her picture), in front of
everybody (audience laughs). I'm gonna tell you, Hawaiians don't like it, so
there's gonna be a yellow line, and because people who tend to have these
84
cycloptic tendencies tend to come up to the line and then kinda (pretending to
shuffle forward) about 18 inches moa den da line.
We're going to warn you dat when you come to dis Pu'ukohoIa, elders-people
olderdan Sam Ka'ai are elders-are going to be in front, okay. And den by age,
backwards. We telling people not to bring children. It's a time to pray. Da liihui
o Hawai'i, e kiihea mai no ka liihui 0 ka lani-the assembly ofda earth will Cl)'
unto the heavenly host, and you who have genealogies are expected.
You will bring a maile lei and a brown tag, and yourname will be da bottom
name, and the top name will be the ancestor of the seventh generation. It is really
important dat we renew ourself at da seventh generation because the Lord Makani
is waiting to blow away your memories. The Lord ofthe Wind is going to erase
everything you hold deah at the eighth generation. And who are you? You're the
eighth generation.
You can chose to be anything you want. You can let your legacy be blown away.
You can forget things that are Hawaiian. You have been eating from the buffet of
the world and neglect the plate ofyour 'ohana, and lost the taste for such (Ka'ai
1991).
Sam related his experiences as a part ofthe Hawaiian contingent to the 4th Festival of the
Pacific Arts in Tahiti. Whereas other Pacific Islanders came in traditional garb or spoke
their native language, the Hawaiians wore purple aloha shirts and wore black pants. He
remembered, "We were the most plastic people there!" He then spoke again on the
importance ofknowing the history and practicing the culture:
History is eidah a living ting, or it's already been blown away, and what you
cannot remembah, da wi--Lord Matangi has taken care of. How important is dis
metaphor? In da canoe, da navigator holds a stol)', a song, dat's all he has. And
85
exactly three hundred yahds behind da canoe, his road is being erased. He pushes
into da unknown and has only a small glimpse of the past; except dat he
remembers da song, and sings it again. So you will live if you remembah da
song, and if you forget, den only da Lord Matangi, da Lord of da Wind (Ka'ai
1991).
He then reiterated again that Pu'ukoholii, as a historical and cultural event, was
happening. He did not select the people or the date; they just came. He ended his talk by
picking up a decorated pii (conch shell trumpet) and telling the audience that they too had
no choice.
And so, it is not an ask to come together---come togethah ifyou wish-it is a
command. It's a masculine call. If you are, be; and if you are not, you need not
be there, but remember what you are not. A kani 0 ka pii (tapping his pii---conch
shell-in hand), a call....
Like a call, the dragon's song, it's like dat last call to da land, beyond your voice
and your mele, or da fIrst call in darkest dawn as the canoe closes wit' da land and
no one is out deah (Blows pii four times loudly, each time going up an octave).
And there will be another call, this is the moan ofthe tupuna (blows three times
with low murmuring sound).
These were the old ways ofsaying goodbye and hello. So I greet you to that
assembly. It is an uncomfortable ting, not to have. Okay. It is more painful not to
know (pause) than to have, and to know. And so people are making the kahilis
and making the capes. They seem like enormous amount of work, but it is more
painful not to have, than to be (pointing to students). And so really, I have come
heah to afflict you wit' my virus. I hope you all (pause) hurt tonight, so you can
86
come wit' me on da seventeenth of August and laugh, hehehe. And have your
heart sing, and your blood boil, and hear, hear da heavens growl (Ka'ai 1991).
****
In 1991, at a time of increasing cultural nationalist sentiment and activity, Sam
Ka'ai called out to Hawaiians, and to men especially, to rememberwho they were as
Hawaiians and as Polynesians and to gather at Pu'ukohoHi to renew and dedicate
themselves at the temple of unification. He implored them to make their history live, and
he showed them how by employing the assistance of one of the men who "walked the
talk." The modern Hawaiian warrior was an example of "Na Koa," which Sam preferred
to interpret as "The Courageous Ones" rather than the conventional translation of "The
Warrior." In the previous chapter, I discussed other images and practices of warriorhood
that are produced in the military and sports. In this chapter I examine the ways in which
discourses ofkoa (bravery, warriorhood, and courage) have historically been articulated
in mo'olelo (histories,legends, and stories) and how they are actively drawn upon and
used to form individual and collective identities by Kiinaka 'Oiwi, especially at
Pu'ukohoIa.
I begin first with a discussion ofhow the mo'olelo of ali'i koa, epitomized in
Kamehameha, have long been sources ofpride and strength for Kanaka 'Oiwi Maoli who
have sought to articulate and re-member their national and cultural identities. In 1791,
the sacrifice ofhis rival cousin Ke5uakii'ahu'ula consecrated the heiau and fulfilled the
prophecies and mo'olelo of the ancients, thereby bringing together Hawai'i. However,
this unification also created new animosities and divisions that had not been forgotten
over the last 200 years. The 1991 commemoration "Ho'oku'ikahi-To Unify as One"
sought to heal old wounds and to once again unite Kiinaka 'Oiwi engaging in political
87
and spiritual war. The event also inscribed the heiau with new meaning as a site of
"living history" and culture. I examine the gendered dynamics of such a shift and
conclude with some tentative suggestions on the interconnections ofgender, culture, and
history in the process ofidentity formation.
MO'olelo: history and identity in Hawai'i and the Pacific
Beginning in the early 1980s, anthropologists and historians in the Pacific
especially, began to more critically theorize the mutually productive nature ofhistory and
culture and the ways that discourses ofhistory and the past have been used within local
frameworks ofmeaning and action as models to think with (Borofsky 2000a:22; White
1991:3). As White explains:
Histories told and remembered by those who inherit them are discourses of
identity; just as identity is inevitably a discourse of history.... Particularly in small
island communities where individual and collective identities are so tightly
bound, historical discourse locates both self and community within a nexus of
relations between past and present, selfand other (1991:3,4)
Furthermore, such historical thinking takes place on multiple levels. White notes,
"Whether we call them 'social history,' 'life history,' or 'personal stories,' retrospective
narratives create the present through idioms ofremembrance" (1991 :5).
This focus, along with the growth of indigenous and ethnic nationalisms since the
1970s, led scholars to critically examine the ways in which history, traditions, and
cultural practices were actively constructed and put to use in political struggles.' Yet as
Hau'ofa (2000:454) notes, such an approach is "old hat" for Oceanic peoples:
What these cultural constructionists are doing is what we have been doing all
along-that is, constructing our pasts, our histories, from the vast storehouses of
88
narratives, both written and oral, to push particular agendas. One ofthe more
positive aspects ofour existence in Oceania is that truth is flexible and negotiable,
despite attempts by some ofus to impose political, religious, and other forms of
absolutism.
Indigenous challenges to the dominant forms of anthropological, historical, and Pacific
studies practices articulated with the emergence ofcultural studies and native studies as
an alternate space for cultural production and activism (Diaz and Kauanui 2001 a; White
and Tengan 2001). The number ofrecent edited volumes and special issues in The
Contemporary Pacific that explore the dialectics of history, culture, politics and identity
testify to the importance ofunderstanding such dynamics as they operate in both
academic and community-based projects.
2
In context of the Hawaiian cultural nationalist movement, the use of
mo'olelo---histories and other accounts of the past and present-play an important role in
the shaping ofprojects ofreclamation and empowerment. As Wertsch (2000) notes,
narratives act as cultural "tools" that have pragmatic effects. Kame'eleihiwa (1992:22)
explains:
It is interesting to note that in Hawaiian, the past is referred to as Ka wii mamua,
"the time in front or before." Whereas the future, when thought of at all, is Ka wii
mahope, or "the time which comes after or behind." It is as if the Hawaiian
stands firmly in the present, with his back to the future, and his eyes fixed upon
the past, seeking historical answers for present-day dilemmas.
89
Osorio (2001:360) expounds on the implications ofKame'eleihiwa's insights:
Thus, any history that we tell, whether it comes from the oral traditions that are
centuries old, from the published accounts ofnineteenth- and twentieth-century
writers, or even from the correspondence and editorials ofcontemporary scholar 
activists, is not merely informational, but carries an activist content. The stories
are meant to persuade and motivate, but they are also meant to explain our lives.
These stories ate all mo'olelo, whether they tell ofmythic beings, of"real"
individuals whose power and influence affected the society in which they lived, of
personal occurrences and family stories, and whether remembered in the mind or
committed to writing.
The term mo'olelo, which itself translates to "succession of talk" or a "fragment of a
story," highlights the partiality ofany truth and the need to view it as a part of a larger
collective knowledge (Osorio 2001:369; Pukui and Elbert 1986:254; Young 1998:3-5).
Young (1998:1 1-12) explains that (re)telling mo'olelo results in the accumulation of
mana (spiritual power and life force) for the teller and the story as both are situated in a
longer succession ofpresenters and presentations. These mo'olelo emerge from the
landscapes and seascapes that Kanaka Maoli and all Oceanic peoples trace their
genealogies of family, place, and travel to (Diaz and Kauanui 2oo1a:3I 8; Gegeo
2001;493; Hau'ofa 2000:466; Kame'eleihiwa 1992:22). Importantly, 'Oiwi have always
situated and resituated their identities through their own mo'olelo, especially in the face
ofrapid change and threats to their continued existence as a people. It is this active
situating of identity and masculinity that I explore in the mo'olelo koa, the histories and
discourses ofwarriorhood that become especially prominent in struggles over sovereignty
and culture (Kelly 1995).
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Mo'olelo koa: narrating nation. courage and warriorhood
Ua oleloia, mawaena 0 na kanaka apau e noho ana maluna 0 na mokupuni liilii 0
ka Polunesia, a hoea ana hoi i na ailana 0 Malaea a hapapa aku no i na kaiaulu 0
Asia, aole i ikea kekahi kanaka nona na kulana kamahao a kupanaha 0 ke ola, e
like me ke alii nona keia moolelo, oia hoi 0 Kamehameha I, ke koa ihe-Iaumeki 0
Kohala makani apaapaa, aina 0 na puu hae1e lua, 0 Pili me Kalahikiola....
Oiai ke kanaka Helene e hoomanao poina ole ana no Alekanedero ka Nui-ke
kanaka Roma hoi no Iulia Kaikara---ke kanaka Farani no Napoliona
Bonepate---ke hoomanao mau nei ke kanaka Hawaii ia Kamehameha, he koa
kaulana no kona aina hanau, a he oiwi i piha i ke kamahao ame ke kupaianaha.
It is said, among all the people living on the small islands of Polynesia, reaching
to as far as the islands ofMalay and extending out into the areas ofAsia, there
was never seen a man ofsuch remarkable and amazing reputation, like the chief
. for whom is this story, namely Kamehameha I, the barbed-spear warrior of
Kohala with its 'Apa'apa'a wind, land of the companion hills, Pili and
Kaliihikiola....
While the people ofHelen (Greece) forever commemorate Alexander the
Great-the Romans, Julius Caesar-ilie French, Napoleon Bonaparte---the
Hawaiian people forever memorialize Kamehameha, as a famous warrior for his
birth land, and a native son filled with remarkable and extraordinary ability.3
So wrote Joseph Moku'ohai Poepoe in the first installment of"Kamehameha I,
Ka Na'i Aupuni 0 Hawai'i, Ka Liona 0 ka Moana Pakipika" (Kamehameha I, the
Conqueror ofthe Kingdom of Hawai'i, the Lion of the Pacific Ocean). This biographical
serial fust appeared in the November 27, 1905 inaugural edition ofthe Hawaiian
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language daily newspaper that took as its name one of Kamehameha's epithets-Ka Na'i
Aupuni (The Conqueror ofthe Nation). Poepoe was born on March 27,1852 in Kohala,
Hawai'i and went on to become a school administrator, lawyer, editor ofeight Hawaiian
language newspapers, member of the Independent Home Rule Party created in 1900, a
legislator in the House of Representatives, and "the living authority on the Hawaiian
language" by the time he had passed away on April 10, 1913 (McKinzie 1982:4-5).
Having read a wide range ofpublished and unpublished sources produced by Hawaiians
and non-Hawaiians alike, Poepoe's year-long narrative ofKamehameha represented the
most comprehensive and detailed history ofKamehameha to date (McKinzie 1982:5).
Additionally, he had brought to light never before discussed aspects of Kamehameha's
life from an unpublished manuscript of Solomon L. Peleioholani, a well-respected
genealogist and descendant of Hilo chief Keawemauhili (Hibbard, et al. 2000:xv).
In addition to its historical value, the serial and the newspaper it ran in created a
space for cultural and political action and the formation ofnational subjectivities
(Anderson 1991). Poepoe, like many Hawaiian intellectuals in the nineteenth and
twentieth centuries, made social commentary and sought to affect change by framing
contemporary conditions and struggles through the mo'olelo printed in the newspapers
(Chapin 1996; Osorio 2001; Silva 1999b). As McKinzie (1982:5) notes, the story ofthe
Conqueror reaffirmed "Hawaiian leadership and strength aimed at a native community
wracked with the despair of lost sovereignty and fear of an unknown, troubled future.
Using the memory and ideal of Kamehameha, a heroic figure respected by both the
Hawaiian and the haole communities, Poepoe attempted to rejuvenate the moral courage
of the Hawaiian people to use change to their advantage." Poepoe stated this explicitly in
his preface to the mo'olelo:
92
Mamuli 0 keia mau hana kamahao a Kamehameha, ua hooliloia 0 Hawaii lahui i
hookahi rna ka nohona aupuni a nohona lahui hoi. Va hala 0 Kamehameha aka,
a[o?] na mamo 0 ka lahuikanaka i hoolokahiia ai e kona puuwai koa a wiwo ole
hoi, eia no ia ke ola nei a ke puka nei no i keia wa, aole i pau. Va pau ka
Kamehameha mau hakoko ana me kana mau ihe laumeki-ua pau kana oniu ana i
kana pololu-ua hoomaha i ka moe kau a hooilo kana mau hooikaika ana: a 0 ka
hana i keia wa, ua iii iho ia maluna 0 ka lahui Hawaii 0 keia mau la e nee maio Na
ka lahui 0 keia wa e na'i i aupuni no lakou-na ka lahui 0 nei manawa e hakoko i
nohona no lakou-a na lakou no hoi e paio aku aole na na ihe laumeki, aole hoi
me na pololu ana koa a KA NA'I AUPUNI i hala aku, aka, me na manao kupaa 0
ka hele ana me na balota rna na kau koho balota e hoea mai ana no ke kukulu ana
i aupuni a i home noho no lakou.
Because of the extraordinary deeds ofKamehameha, the Hawaiian people have
become one as a government, and as a people/nation. Kamehameha has passed
but, the descendants ofthe people/nation united by his brave and fearless heart,
here they are living on and emerging in this time, without end. Finished are
Kamehameha's combats with the barbed spears-his twirling of the long spear is
done-his strivings rest in eternal sleep (death); and the task at this time, it has
been placed upon the Hawaiian nation of the present. Let the people ofthis era
strive for/conquer a kingdom/nation for themselves-it is for the people ofthis
time to fight for an existence/way oflife for themselves-and they themselves
must struggle, not with the barbed spears, not with the long spears of the warriors
ofTHE CONQUEROR OF THE NATION passed, but, with the steadfast
93
thoughts of going with the ballots to the upcoming election to establish a
government and home for themselves:
Anning his readers with the memory and courage oftheir cherished King, Poepoe called
upon the modem day warriors to "na'i i aupuni no lakou" (strive for/conquer a
kingdom/nation for themselves) and to carry on the process of uniting a people and a
nation that was established by Kamehameha. In so doing, he also invoked the last words
of Kamehameha, which most of the readers would have been familiar with: "E na'i wale
no 'oukou i ku'u pono, 'a'ole pau," or "Strive to complete my good works, that are not
finished."
Poepoe was following in the footsteps ofanother Mo'! whose mo'olelo he had
written-King David La'amea Kaliikaua. The "Merrie Monarch," as Kaliikaua was
called for his lavish celebrations, also got his start in the newspapers and had carried out
similar projects ofdiscursive irnagi-nation during his tenure as an editor for nationalist
newspaper Ka Hoku oka Pakipika and later during his reign (1874-1891). At a time of
unprecedented assertions of American colonial power and attacks on the crown (Osorio
2002), Kaliikaua employed a number ofdiscursive strategies to actively contest American
hegemony and to reassert Kanaka pride and legitimacy. Silva (1999b:109-154) describes
some of these efforts in detail: the creation ofa genealogy board and Hale Naua (the
secret society ofali'i dedicated to studying genealogies, sciences, and traditional
knowledge discussed in the previous chapter), the publication of the cosmogonic
genealogy chant the Kumulipo, and the hosting of grand public celebrations that
highlighted the performance (by men and women) ofhula and stories that highlighted the
masculine heroism oflegendary and historical Kanaka past. Not surprisingly,
Kamehameha, his war generals and his soldiers figured prominently in these
94
perfonnances (Silva 1999b:141-2, 146-7). Like Kaliikaua, Poepoe mobilized the forces
and the images of the Kamehameha for a new struggle for Hawaiian solidarity.
Unfortunately, similar political-historical circumstances begat similar results as
neither Kaliikaua nor Poepoe succeeded in checking Ametican colonialism. Kaliikaua
was forced into signing a treaty at bayonet point that stripped the crown of its powers;
when his sister and successor Lili'uokalani attempted to draft a new constitution, the
haole elite backed by U.S. marines orchestrated the illegal overthrow ofthe Kingdom.
After an unconstitutional annexation by the U.S. Congress in 1898, Hawai'i soon became
an American colonial territory. Despite the fact that Kfulaka made up the majority ofthe
electorate when the Organic Act of 1900 extended suffrage to all adult Hawaiian males,
the limits of their enfranchisement soon became apparent. The Independent Horne Rule
Party failed just as quickly as it was established; an 1896 law banning the Hawaiian
language in the schools was increasingly taking its toll on the language and culture of the
Kfulaka; the haole sugar interests that had orchestrated the illegal overthrow and
annexation ofHawai'i maintained and increased their control ofthe land, power, and
money; and growth ofplantations led to rapidurbanization, a massive influx of
immigrants, and the large scale relocations ofHawaiians to the crowded tenements and
squatter villages in Honolulu (Fuchs 1983:153-160; Kent 1993:69-91; McGregor
1989:201-217).
In the two decades following Territorial status, the conditions ofurban 'Oiwi
Maoli had degenerated so much that a number of Hawaiian organizations and leaders
sought to "rehabilitate" the Hawaiian people by returning them to the land, a movement
that resulted in the passage ofthe Hawaiian Homes Commission Act in Congress in 1921
(Kauanui 1999; McGregor 1990). Foremost amongst these leaders was Prince Jonah
Kiihio Kalani'ana'ole, the Republican delegate to Congress. In May 1903 he helped to
95
reorganize Kapuaiwa's Royal Order of Kamehameha as an organization that functioned
as a mutual benefit society, political support network, and cultural and historical
association. The Order rendered aid and assistance to members and their families in case
of sickness or death; formed an inner core ofKiihio allies; preserved historical objects
and places such as homes of ali'i, sites ofbattles, and heiau; and perpetuated knowledge,
legends, and traditions, especially those related to the memory and legacy of
Kamehameha (Beers 1974:14; Fuchs 1983:75; Kamae 1980; KarpieI1998:247;
McGregor 1989:237). The Royal Order was just one of a number of social and cultural
organizations (e.g. 'Ahahui Ka'ahumanu, Hale 0 Na Ali'i, and Daughters and Sons of
Hawaiian Warriors) that followed the Hale Naua's model of combining indigenous and
Western traditions as a part ofthe larger efforts ofHawaiian leaders to rejuvenate and
revitalize the Kiinaka 'Oiwi. Kilhio also co-founded the'Ahahui Pu'uhonua oNa
Hawai'i (1916) and the Hawaiian Civic Club (1918), two organizations dedicated to the
uplift ofthe Hawaiian people and central to the creation of the Hawaiian Homes
Commission Act (McGregor 1990:5).
It was at this time that the mo'0lel0 ofKamehameha re-emerged once again as a
model for action and empowerment. Reverend Stephen Langhern Desha, Sr., a pastor of
Haili Church, territorial legislator, member of the Royal Order, and close friend of Kiihio,
serialized the account "He Moolelo Kaao no Kekuhaupio Ke Koa Kaulana 0 ke Au 0
Kamehameha ka Nui" (A Tale ofKekilhaupi'o the Famous Warrior ofthe Era of
Kamehameha the Great) for the readers ofhis Hilo-based weekly Hawaiian language
newspaper Ka Hoku 0 Hawaii (Hibbard, et al. 2000; Karpiel 1998:247; Nellist 1925:397).
Published between December 16, 1920 and September II, 1924, Desha's mo'olelo
initially focuses on the life and training of Kekilhaupi'o, a renowned warrior from Ke'ei,
South Kona, Hawai'i, who trained Kamehameha in the arts of war and served as a war
96
leader, bodyguard, and trusted advisor. The majority ofthe serial thereafter retells in
very close fashion the PoepoelPeleiohOlani mo'olelo ofKamehameha with the addition
of some new information gathered from kiipuna with whom Desha was acquainted.
Like other Hawaiian intellectuals, Desha frequently and explicitly comments on
the current social status of Kanaka 'Oiwi by drawing allusions and comparisons to the
legends and stories he narrates. He extols the traditions ofbravery, faith, strength, and
pono leadership and uses the lessons ofthe kiipuna to advise and counsel a community in
desperate need of guidance. He had already been censured by the church for his staunch
advocacy and defense ofKanaka Maoli in response to negative criticisms (Hibbard, et al.
2000:xiii). Thus it is not surprising that in telling Kamehameha's mo'olelo, Desha (a
minister for people) highlights the role of Kekiihaupi'o, a counselor, confidant, and
champion that provided Kamehameha with the spiritual and physical fortitude needed to
shape the body politic of a unified nation.
Desha displays his discursive prowess most brilliantly in his discussions of
Pu'ukohola
5
, which as I argue below, both contest colonial histories and renew pride,
strength, and bravery in the Hawaiian people. The writings of Poepoe and Desha
exemplify the ways that Kanaka 'Oiwi situate their identities through the retelling of
mo'olelo, a process that is especially potent when it is rooted in sites steeped in cultural,
historical, and political significance on multiple levels. By more closely examining the
stories embedded in !his site, we can better understand how Desha and other Hawaiians
over the last 200 years have drawn upon its mo'olelo in projects of identity formation,
especially those associated with koa.
97
Figure 15. Conjectural drawing of appearance of Pu'ukohoIa by artist Herb
Kawainui Kane, 1978. NPS photo. Source:
http://www.cr.nps.govlhistory/online_bookslkona/history7s.htm
Mo'olelo 0 Pu ukohoUi: historical battlegrounds, battleground of hi tory
Pu'ukohoHi has taken on its current historical significance primarily as the site
that secured Kamehameha's unification ofthe Hawaiian Kingdom. As in all Hawaiian
mo'olelo, various traditions and versions of the Kamehameha's construction and
consecration ofPu'ukohoHi abound.
6
Rather than attempt to synthesize these accounts
here, I focus instead on the ways that the history of Pu'ukohoUi, like the landscape itself,
becomes a contested ground in which various forces, in the past and in the present, wage
battles over knowledge, power, and memory. These debates over Pu'ukohoHi's history
highlight the politically and emotionally charged nature of narrating a collective national
identity through (re)tellings ofhistory, especially those associated with war and conflict
(White 1997).
The heiau known as Pu'ukohola ("whale hill") is located in Kawaihae ("water of
wrath") in South Kohala, on the island of Hawai'i. The large natural (and later modified)
98
harbor has always distinguished Kawaihae as one of the most important anchorages on
the island. Pu 'ukohola measures approximately 224 feet by 100 feet and stands directly
above a smaller heiau known as Mailekini ("many maile vines''); both overlook the
nearby shoreline where a now submerged shark heiau called Haleokapuni ("house of
Kapuni [a priest]") rests? Though commonly associated with Kamehameha, the three
heiau have a longer history that extends as far back as the mid- to late- 1500s.
Lonoikamakabiki, son ofKeawenuia'umi and grandson of 'Umialiloa, consecrated the
heiau after putting down a rebellion against him and Kaikilaninuiali'iwahineopuna, his
wife and co-ruler of the island (Fomander and Grant 1996:103-122). Soon afterwards,
Maui Ali'i Nui Kamalalawalu, aided by klihuna of Mailekini, made Kawaihae and
neighboring Waimea the staging grounds for a failed invasion of Hawai'i, in which
Lonoikamakabiki again prevailed and Kamalalawalu lost his life (Kamakau 1992:55-61).
Kamehameha (re)constructed and (re)consecrated Pu'ukohola heiau in 1791, an
act that unified the island and eventually the entire archipelago under his rule. As the
sovereign, Kamehameha periodically resided at Kawaihae on the beach below the heiau
in an area now called Pelekane ("Britain" or "British" from Kamehameha's British
advisors) and variously referred to as the "King's Residence" and "Royal Courtyard"
(Greene 1993:Ch.7 Fl online; Kelly 1974:18-26).8 John Young (also known as
Olohana), one oftwo British advisors (the other being Isaac Davis) ofKamehameha,
acted as Governor ofHawai'i island (1802-1812) and took up a more permanent
residence with his family in a nearby upland area. Foreign captains would stopover at
Kawaihae to both procure supplies, make repairs, pay respects and gain blessings from
Kamehameha. Capitalist ventures and transformations in government and land tenure
during the 19th and 20th centuries brought radical changes to this small fishing village
that previously thrived on the productivity of its fishponds, saltpans, and other marine
99
resources. Sandalwood and pulu (tree fern fibers used for pillow stuffing) trade, whaling,
potato farming, cattle ranching, sugar cane growing, and military training contributed to
the denuding ofnearby forests, degradation of the environment, and transformation of the
harbor until finally Kawaihae became the dry and arid shipping town that it is today
(Greene 1993; Kelly 1974). Pu'ukohola has been managed by the National Parks Service
since being named a National Historic Site in 1972 for its significance as "the one
structure in the Hawaiian islands" that is directly associated with the "founding ofthe
Hawaiian kingdom" ("Puukohola Heiau" n.d.),
In summary form, Kamakau's account of the 1791 events, which is the most
widely followed version ofthe story9, goes as such: Kamehameha and his cousin
KeouakU'ahu'ula had fought for dominion over the island of Hawai'i for over nine years
with no victor emerging. While residing on Moloka'i, Kamehameha sent Ha'alo'u (his
aunt and the grandmother ofhis favorite wife Ka'ahumanu) on a quest to confer with a
kahuna of Kaua'i who might be able to reveal a way to win the war. While at Waikiki on
O'ahu, she met with Kapoukahi, a kahuna hulihonua (expert in study of the earth) and
kuhikuhi pu'uone (seer knowledgeable in locating and building temples) from Kaua'i,
and she revealed their relationship through her grandmother's genealogy. In return
(which was more precisely an obligatory "payment"), Kapoukahi gave the advice that
Ha'alo'u sought, the words ofwhich she delivered to Kamehameha:
Eia ke kumu e lilo holo'oko'a ai ke aupuni i ko haku; i hale no ke akua; e kUkulu
a nui, e hana ina palena a pau...'0 Pu'ukohola, aia no i Kawaihae, rna luna aku 0
Mailekini...·O ka hale keia 0 ke akua 0 ko haku; puni ka moku, 'a'ohe e 'eha ka
'iii.
100
Here is the means by which the kingdom will be completely turned over to your
lord; through a house for the god; build it large, layout all of the boundaries...
Pu 'ukohola, at Kawaihae, above Mailekini...This is the house of the god ofyour
lord; the land will be his, without harm to his skin.
1O
The monumental construction ofthis po'okanaka (literally "man's head," a sacrificial
heiau of the highest order) required the work of all the commoners ofthe neighboring
districts (except for women who were not offered as sacrifices and thus prohibited from
going on the heiau) and spared the labor ofno chief but one (Keli'imaika'i, the younger
brother ofKamehameha who preserved their kapu). Upon completion of the heiau, all
that was left was its dedication to Kiika'ilimoku, the island snatching god that
Kamehameha had inherited.
Keaweaheulu and Kamanawa (two of Kamehameha's chiefcounselors who were
also the uncles of the two rival chiefs) went to Ka'U to invite KeouakU'ahu'ula to
Kawaihae to meet with his younger cousin to declare a truce and end the war. Despite
objections from his own advisors, KeouakU'ahu'ula accepted and sailed with his
retainers, stopping at various spots along the way as his other subjects went by foot. At
Luahinewai at Kekaha, KeouakU'ahu'ula prepared to die. He bathed, cut offthe end of
his penis, gathered his prized possessions, and separated his chiefs and attendants in two
canoes-one that would carry him and his moepu'u (companions in death) and the other
that would be spared because it carried Paulika'OleiokU, his younger cousin and the son
ofKamehameha's "beardless youth."
When they arrived at Kawaihae, KeouakU'ahu'ula called out to Kamehameha, and
the latter beckoning him to come forward. At that point Ke'eaumoku, one of
Kamehameha's primary counselors and the father ofhis favorite wife Ka'ahumanu,
attacked KeouakU'ahu'ula with a spear, which the latter dodged. Muskets from the
101
shoreline fIred, and thereafter commenced the onslaught ofthe Ka'fi chief and his party
by the throngs of waniors gathered at Kawaihae; only two men escaping from his canoe,
one of whom, Kuakahela, was saved by hiding in the kapu house of the chiefess
Keku'iapoiwa Liliha, half-sister of Kamehameha and mother ofhis sacred wife
Keopiiolani. The Mamalahoa Kiinawai (Kamehameha's "law of the splintered paddle"
that protected the lives of the innocent) was thereafter proclaimed, and those onboard the
canoe ofPaulika'oleiokii and were spared. With the placement of Keouakii'ahu'ula on
the heiau as a sacrifice, the prophecy ofKapoukahi was fulfilled, "'0 Pu'ukoholii ka hale
o ke akua, a laila, pau ke kaua 0 Hawai'i, nana no e hele mai a kau a'e i lnna (Pu'ukhoIa
is the house of the akua, so, war will end in Hawai'i, [when] one comes and is placed
above [as a sacrifIce]."1l
While historians, scholars, and descendants ofthe parties involved disagree on a
number ofpoints, the most contentious debates occur over how the event is to be
interpreted. In specific, was Pu'ukohoIa consecrated in an act of treachery and deceit?
.
Did Kamehameha order the execution of Keouakii'ahu'ula, or did his council of advisors
(and more specifIcally Ke'eaumoku) act on their/his own? Why did Keouakfi'ahu'ula go
to a meeting that was obviously meant to end in his death and sacrifice on the heiau?
How are these two ali'i to be remembered? Reviewing the available sources at the time
(1880), Fomander weighed in as such:
[I]t is impossible to acquit Kamehameha ofcomplicity in the cruel death of
Keoua. Itmust have been planned in his council. It was executed by three ofhis
highest chiefs and most trusted connsellors[sic]. The deed itself took place in his
presence and within sound of his voice; and there is no mention, tradition, or hint
that he ever disapproved or regretted it, or in the slightest manner rebuked or
102
punished those who treacherously enticed Keoua away, or him who actually
stabbed him.
Before passing sentence, however, upon Kamehameha for what will always
remain the darkest blot upon his otherwise fair name, the candid and impartial
historian will not fail to take into consideration the political and social condition
of the country and the principles ofright and wrong that governed men's actions
in that age...Each looked upon the other as an usurper, and the bitterest of
personal hatred had sprung up between them...And in those days the putting away
of an obnoxious person by secret means...was not a crime that the gods
condemned or society criticised[sic] too severely. Moreover, even ifthe deed had
been planned without the knowledge and done without the consent of
Kamehameha, yet the very men who planned and executed it were also the very
men who had raised Kamehameha on the throne...Under these conditions, though
the deed was no less a cruel wrong and a foul murder, and posterity will so
designate it, it is well to bear in mind that the actors in that deed, while
undoubtedly the foremost men oftheir age, yet were men ofthat age and of no
other, swayed by its modes ofthought, following its modes ofaction (Fomander
and Grant 1996:330-331).
To his credit, Fornander attempts to evaluate the event within its own historical and
social context, he invariably does so within his own evolutionary and teleological
framewod: that sees cultural difference as one rooted in stages of evolution that progress
from savagery to civilization. Thus the "cruel and foul" deeds of Kamehameha and his
supporters (and by extension, those ofKeouaku'ahu'ula and all Hawaiians ofthat time)
are explained as products of the "modes ofthought" and "action" that characterize "that
age," which is one of savagery and barbarism, even ifit is not stated so explicitly.
103
Fomander's own evolutionary "mode of thought," though discredited now in academic
circles, is still accepted as received wisdom in the larger population and is commonly
deployed in discourse when debates over historical and cultural interpretations.
Recognizing the partiality of both Kamakau's and Fomander's accounts, Joseph
Poepoe brought to light a number of significant details that Solomon L. PeleiiihOlani had
recorded in his unpublished manuscript12 Poepoe starts offby explaining the riddles in
the names of Pu'ukohola and Mailekini, which he interprets as "desire (for death) in the
lagoon" and "closely related chief,.13 Poepoe also includes the previously unpublished
"Hikikauelia ka Malama" (Hikikauelia is the month), a mele ko'ihonua (genealogical
song) that Kelctihaupi'o composed as a prophecy of Kamehameha's eventual conquest of
all the islands. Along with the mele "Haui ka lani" by Keaulumoku, the well-known
songs and names of the heiau confirmed that the kaka'olelo (experts, advisors, and
orators knowledgeable in the use oflanguage) ofKa'ii and their ali'i knew clearly what
fate awaited Keouakii'ahu'ula.
Kamehameha too was aware ofthis, but he truly sought to make peace with his
beloved cousin and demanded that he go to Ka'ii in person to meet with
Keiiuakii'ahu'ula. His counselors decided to consult the 'aha'ula, an oracle cord that had
•
been used since the time ofLnoa. The 'aha'ula rejected Kamehameha and instead
identified Keaweaheulu as the ambassador to be sent to fetch Keouakii'ahu'ula. !4 The
council of advisors met secretly at night without the knOWledge of Kamehameha and
decided that Ke'eaumoku would be the one to execute Keouakii'ahu'ula.
Before the departure of Keaweaheulu, who was accompanied by Kamimawa,
Kamehameha told his two uncles to take care of his cousin. Kamanawa agreed but also
reminded him that now was the time of the kahuna, and the kapu of the akua and the
kahuna superceded that ofthe ali'i.!5 Along these lines, Poepoe suggests that
104
Keouakii'ahu'ula may have been prayed to death beforehand, for as the aliTs immediate
and unquestioning acceptance ofthe envoy's invitation indicated, "E kala no i make
kahiko ai he ola hanu wale iho no ka ia e inana nei" ([He] died a long time ago [and]
breath is the only sign oflife). '6 On the day before KeOuaku'ahu'ula and his party
arrived in Kawaihae, Holo'ae, one ofKamehameha's head kahuna, told him that the
'alana (offering) was arriving, and that the fIrst lehua (victim ofbattie) was for the god
Ku, and the second was for him. He reiterated, "A ua ike oe e Kalani, ke moe nei ke
kanawai 0 ko Akua i keia wa, a pela hoi ko'u kanawai ko ke kahuna" (And you know
Heavenly One, the law ofyour God is being laid down at this time, and the same goes for .
my law that ofthe priest).!7 Kamehameha wept with sorrow and pity for his cousin who
was being brought by their uncles to his death. In spite of his own desires and the
desperate pleas ofhis brother Keli'imaika'i to spare their cousin, there was nothing
Kamehameha could do as he watched helplessly the slaughter ofKeouaku'ahu'ula and
his party. Once this first lehua was secured, Holo'ae told Kamehameha to proclaim the
Miimalahoa law to spare the lives ofPiiulika'oleioku and the others who remained.'s In
light ofPeleiohOlani's manuscript, Poepoe writes:
[U]a hiki ole i ka mea kakau ke hookuikahi aku i kona manao me ko kekahi poe
kakau moolelo e ae no ka mea e pili ana ia Kamehameha, ua make 0 Keoua
mamuli 0 ka Kamehameha kauoha; a i ole, mamuli paha 0 ko Kamehameha
makemake.
The author cannot reconcile his thinking with those of other historians on the
issue of Kamehameha, [that] Keoua died because ofKamehameha's order; or,
perhaps because ofKamehameha's desire.!'
105
Yet for all of Poepoe's efforts to redeem the name of Kamehameha, his work had
little impact on subsequent retellings of the story, even for those who could have read the
Hawaiian (e.g. Thrum 1907). I discuss this version at length not to give it any higher
authority than other versions, but to make the point that alternative histories, especially
those written in Hawaiian, were being ignored even during a time when many people
were still quite fluent in the language.
The implications for such neglect of indigenous traditions are even greater when
foreign scholars who could not read the Hawaiian produce narratives that circulate more
widely and further refract mo'olelo through Western lenses; such was the case with the
work of Herbert H. Gowen, University ofWashington professor of Oriental Languages
and Literature.
20
In his book The Napoleon ofthe Pacific: Kamehameha the Great
(19I9), Gowen draws upon the moniker that had accrued to Kamehameha and compares
him, like Poepoe does, to Alexander, Ceasar, and Napoleon. 21 Yet Poepoe does so to
contest discourses ofsavagery and primitivism by showing an equality ofgreatness with
other foreign heroes; moreover, his work is aimed at the Kanaka 'Qiwi community and
meant to instill pride and motivate change. Gowen writes for an American and
international audience that admired Kamehameha because he fits into Western models of
military and political operation (Pierce n.d.:23). Perhaps more importantly, he also
represents a nation that America claims politically through colonization and symbolically
through the memorialization ofits dead founder and the appropriation of its history, acts
that work to erase the continuity ofthe Hawaiian people and nation (Pierce n.d.:23). In
his introduction, Gowen (1919:10-11,15) writes:
In all that shadowy time, from the dawn ofisland history to the establishment of
intercourse with the western world...there was none who did what Kamehameha
did by patient toil and dauntless courage of forty years of strife.
. 106
Moreover, in all the time since, spite ofthe unexampled advance which has
made ofthe old Hawaii a land of telephones and electric lights, of universal
education and universal suffrage, no Hawaiian has arisen with a hundredth part of
the manhood possessed and used, mainly for good, by this heroic savage.
...[T]o the student ofman as man, the story of the fIrst Kamehameha should
possess interest and instruction.
For heroism is ofno age and of no race. It compels the sympathy of all...that
quality ofmanhood which obliterates distinction ofEast and West.
Gowen uses Kamehameha in a project of Western imperialist national memory making
that commemorates great heroic men whose story may be incorporated and recalled both
as a model for masculine heroism andas way ofmarking a break with a backwards,
barbaric and racialized past (Gillis 1994:7-12). At the same time, it feminizes,
emasculates, and renders impotent the colonized population, especially the men, who no
longer possess "a hundredth part ofthe manhood" and the bravery ofKamehameha.
In discussing the death ofKeouakU'ahu'ula at Pu'ukohoHi, the one "ugly episode"
(p.197) that qualifIes his assessment of Kamehameha's use of manhood "mainly for
good," Gowen tells his readers:
FIrst, we are dealing with a people steeped to the lips in barbarism. It would not
be fair to go straight from the wars ofKamehameha to the contemporary wars of
Napoleon for a just comparison ofthe two leaders...For a fair comparison we
ought rather to place ourselves in the age ofHomeric heroes, in the camp of
Greek or Trojan, and judge ofKamehameha's act by its accordance with manners
ofsuch a time (1919:202).
As Fabian (1983) and Said (1978) notes, this temporal "othering" and denial of
coevalness is one ofthe key Orientalist discursive strategies used to forever link the
107
Other with the Euro-American past and, consequently, define the modem Western self.
Thus when Gowen concludes his narrative, he again reveals his thoughts of the
hopelessness of the colonized, feminized, desolate Hawaiians and the utility of
Kamehameha's story for haole people:
The Hawaii of the after-time with all its boasted advance into the full glare of
civilization's light, could only "sweep heroic dust for hour-glass sand." It was in
vain, with the blight of leprosy and other forms of death upon the race,-the
terrible legacy of her contact with the civilized world,-for her graves to remain,
to "implore her people to be strong and not afraid."
IfKamehameha inspires men now as when he lived, it must be mainly men of
another race who willieam to claim him, a brother worthy ofhonour and renown.
Ifhe rule now, it must be over the half-legendary heroes ofthe past, not over their
degenerate offspring ofto-day.
...It is in the humble hope that he may still appeal to others, who have
inherited the domain he won, and who, in spite of all difference ofcolour, are still
his brothers in blood, that this memoir has been penned (1919:316, 317).
A year later, Rev. Stephen L. Desha, Sr., began his serial publication ofthe
mo'olelo ofKekiihaupi'o. As mentioned above, he follows closely Poepoe's narrative of
Kamehameha with the addition of some new information.
22
More interesting though are
Desha's commentaries interspersed in his discussions of Pu'ukohola, especially those that
speak to interpretations ofGowen (and to an extent Fomander) and the larger colonial
discourse they are a part of. Though he does not specifically name Gowen, his frequent
use of"Napoliona 0 ka Pakipika" (Napoleon of the Pacific), a term that Poepoe himself
did not use in his account, evidences Desha's engagement with the tenured Orientalist
and his recentpublication. In contrast to Gowen, who utilizes Kamehameha's story in his
108
own narrative of degradation and emasculation of the Hawaiian people, Desha calls upon
the memory of Kamehameha to instill in his readers strength, courage, and faith in the
alma. As Reverend Desha points out, it is the same reliance on the higher powers that
will replicate the accomplishments of the Conqueror.
He kupainaha[sic] no ka hooko ia 0 na Olelo wanana a ia poe kahuna kahiko 0
keia aina aloha 0 kakou. Pela no makou e manao nei e hoi hou mai ana no ke ola
i keia Lahui, e like no hoi me ka olelo kaulana a Hewahewa Kahuna nui 0
Kamehameha, ai kamailio aku ai ia Kamehameha i ka manawa i hoala ia ai 0
Puukohola. "E hapai a kiekie ke kulana, a huli hoi ke alo i ke kai, alaila, mai ke
kai mai ka hoi ka pomaikai." 23
A wonderment was the fulfilling ofthe prophetic sayings ofthese ancient
seers/priestsfexperts ofthis beloved land of ours. Thus do we think the life will
return again to this Nation{People{Race, just like the famous saying ofHewahewa
high Priest/Counselor ofKamehameha, and spoken to Kamehameha at the time
that Pu'ukohola was restored, "Lift up until high is the station, and tum the face to
the sea, and then, from the sea indeed shall come the blessings."24
In his discussion ofthe 'aha'ula, the secret council ofadvisors, and Kamehameha's desire
to save Keouakii'ahu'ula (see above), Desha explicitly addresses the needto contest
colonial histories:
Eia makou ke hoakaka nei i keia mau mea imua 0 ko makou poe heluhelu,
mamuli no ia 0 ke kakau ana 0 kekahi mau haole rna ka lakou mau moolelo no
Kamehameha, ae hooili ana i kela hewa ano maikai ole maluna 0 Kamehameha
rna ka uhai ia ana 0 kela ike ana 0 laua, a me he ala ua hana apuhi aku 0
Kamehameha, a ua malama ole hoi i kana olelo hoopaa hanohano. 0 ka pololei
109
maoli nae, aole 0 Kamehameha i hana i kela hana a kona mau Alii alakai i hoolala
mua ai, a koe wale no ko Kamehameha ano haupu no ke ola 0 Keoua, a oia paba
ke kumu 0 kona kauoha ana i kona mau makuakane Elele e malama pono laua i ke
ola 0 ke Alii Keoua.
We are clarifying these things before you our readers, because of the writings of
certain foreigners/whites in their histories ofKamehameha, that have been placing
the wrong on Kamehameha for the breaking of the understanding of them two
[Kamehameha and Keouakii'abu'ula], as if Kamehameha had deceived, and not
kept his honorable promise. The real truth is however, Kamehameha did not
carry out that action that his guiding Chiefs had previously planned, except for
Kamehameha's disposition of concern for the life ofKeoua, and this perhaps is
the reason for his commanding his Delegate uncles that they properly care for the
life of Chief Keoua.
2
'
Desha also frequently writes about the need for the newer generations to remember the
acts of bravery and honor ofthe ali'i and to preserve the places, songs, and legends that
tell oftheir stories. He shows how events of today are connected to those in the
mo'olelo, such as the creation ofHawaiian homesteads at Kalama'ula, Moloka'i, the land
where Kamehameha flTSt received the news ofKapoukahi's prophecy and where earlier
Paka'a, the famous personal retainer of Keawenuia'umi (father ofLonoikamakahiki),
lived while in exile. 26 Thus when discussing his reasons for printing the mele ko'ihonua
of Kekiihaupi'o and KeauIumoku, Desha reiterates the thoughts that he prefaced his story
with when he began the serial:
o ka manao nui 0 ka mea kakau moolelo 0 Kekukaupio, oia no ka hoonaauao ana
aku i ka hanauna hou i kekabi mau mea pili i na Moolelo kaulana 0 na Alii me ko
110
lakou mau kanaka koa 0 kela au kahiko, ai mea hoi e hOO ai ia lakou e
hoomaopopo i keia oiaio ano nui. He mau Alii koa kaulana loa no ka ko Hawai'i
nei, a he mau kanaka koa loa no hoi e hilahila ole ai ka Oiwi Hawaii rna kona ano
Hawaii i kona Lahui aloha, ae loaa ai hoi iaia na manao e keha ai oia no ke kulana
i kona mau Kupuna 0 kela au kaohiko[sic] 0 ka aina.
The main idea ofthe writer of the story ofKekiihaupi'o, is the education ofthis
new generation about certain things pertaining to the famous
Histories/Stories/Accounts of the Chiefs and their courageous people of that
ancient time, and so they will recognize/understand this important truth. This
land, Hawai'i, has indeed had very renowned Chiefs of courage, and extremely
brave individuals because of whom the Indigenous Hawaiian as a Hawaiian
should feel no embarrassment in his/her beloved Nation!People!Race, and from
whom he/she should gain insight that will make him/her proud of the status of
his/her Ancestors ofthat ancient era ofthe land.
27
By associating the Hawaiian past with courage and pride, Desha explicitly refutes
Orientalists like Gowen and, to a lesser extent, Fornander (for although he was certainly
much more sympathetic to Hawaiians and an advocate for their rights, he was nonetheless
"a man ofhis age"). Desha also addresses Kanaka Maoli and other local people as well
who associate Hawaiian things with barbarism and savagery. He mourns the unkempt
state ofPu'ukohola and chastises legislators and young people of the newer generation
who are generally neglectful of the indigenous traditions of Hawai'i. In true Royal Order
fashion, Desha muses, "Mea paha 0 hoala hou ia mai keia manao malama i na Mea
kaulana kahiko 0 Hawaii nei" (Perhaps there should be a reawakening ofthe idea to care
for the ancient famous Things ofthis Hawai'i).28
III
As I have showed in this section, histories-whether they reside in songs, stories,
objects, or places-actively constitute the collective identities of a people. Likewise,
historical actors may variously draw upon and revise these histories in their own projects
of identity formation, whether they are colonial or anti-colonial in nature. It is this
dynamic that makes history such a fierce battleground ofnational imagination, especially
when located on literal battlegronnds. In this light, Desha's suggestion is more than just
a hope for a renewed appreciation for history-it is a call to "hoomaopopo" (remember,
realize, recall, understand) and "hoala hou" (reawaken) a "Lahui" (nation ofpeople) who
are a part of a larger "Moolelo" (History/discursive succession) of"Alii a me ko lakou
kanaka koa" (Chiefs and their courageous people and warriors) whose histories are
inscribed in the "Mea kaulana kahiko ofHawai'i nei" (famous places and objects of this
Hawai'i). Not surprisingly, as modalities ofcommemorating and remembering take on
new forms, the memory wars become ever more heated and contentious.
Ho'oku'ikahi: commemorating, re-membering and unifying the Hilmi
On June 15, 1929, the Order of Kamehameha unveiled a "Papa Keleawe
Hoomanao" (commemorative bronze plaque) that was placed in front of Pu'ukohola.
The day's activities included a breakfast on the S. S. Hualalai that brought off-island
visitors and was harbored at Kawaihae, a hukilau (communal pulling of a seine net), and
speeches by Territorial Governor Farrington and Rev. Stephen L. Desha, Sr. ("Kela me
keia" 1929; "Ua kau ia" 1929). This ceremony represented "the first formal
commemoration of its [Pu'ukohola's] importance in Hawaiian history in modern times"
(Greene 1993:Ch 7 K.l online).29 Though this was an important beginning, it would be a
number ofyears before the mo'olelo ofPu'ukohola/ii emerged once again. The Hawaiian
language continued on its precipitous decline, and in 1948, the Hilo-based Hoku 0
112
Hawaii, which had been experiencing financial difficulties even while Desha was writing
his mo'olelo ofKekiihaupi'o, became the last secular Hawaiian-language newspaper to
shut down (Mookini 1974:xiv). Desha's and Poepoe's mo'olelo, like the vast majority of
cultural texts of the 'Oiwi archive, disappeared from circulation and resided primarily on
the shelves of libraries or in museums were they were forgotten by all but a few (cf.
Stillman 2001).
Pu'ukohola gained recognition once again when it was designated a national
historic landmark on June 10, 1966, and a pageant was held there to honor the site (Clark
1991 :E7). The heiau and the lands around it received an even more prominent status
when on August 17, 1972, Public Law 92-388 (86 Stat. 562) authorized the establishment
ofPu'ukohola Heiau National Historic Site to "restore and preserve in public ownership
the historically significant temple associated with Kamehameha the Great ... and the
property ofJohn Young" (Greene 1993:Ch7 K.I, N.2(a) online; "Puukohola Heiau" n.d.).
Beginning in the mid-1970s, the National Parks Service (NPS) and the Waimea Hawaiian
Civic Club sponsored a cultural festival on the weekend closest to August 17 to celebrate
the establishment ofthe Park. The festival included a pageant with a "royal court" that
proceeded down from the heiau to the flats below to accept ho'okupu (ceremonial gifts)
that were presented in the form ofdances and the fruits of the land. Following the
ceremonies, a fair held at Pelekane featured crafts, food, games, demonstrations, and
hands-on workshops (Ka'ai 20(3).
As was the case with most "Hawaiian" things in the twentieth century, the
Pu'ukohola festival became a type ofcommodity spectacle for both touristic and local
consumption. This speaks to the nature offestivals, pageants, parades, and other
performances of culture and history in the tourism-based and rnilitary-dominated cultural
and political economy ofHawai'i. Within this context, such performances operate within
113
a pervasive "discourse of aloha" (Pierce n.d.) that works on multiple levels to:
domesticate difference, obscure racial and ethnic tensions and hierarchies, erase claims of
indigeneity, feminize the landscape and its people, and sell Hawai'i as an open, generous,
hospitable, safe, attractive, multicultural paradise (Desmond 1999:2-9; Ferguson and
TumbulI1999:37-42; Okamura 1998; Trask 1993b:189-194). Since the early 1900s,
celebrations ofMay Day (later Lei Day) and the Mid-Pacific Carnival often featured
nostalgic representations ofHawai'i's past and its multiethnic and harmonious present as
a part ofthe United States (Friesen 1996; Pierce n.d.). Parades and pageants were also a
place where Kanaka Maoli celebrated their history and their connections to place,
especially through the Kamehameha Day celebrations and parades (Stillman 1994). Yet
as Pierce argues, by commemorating and memorializing Kamehameha through festive
parades and floral pageants, the discourse of aloha assimilates and domesticates his
image, thereby neutralizing any potential he would hold as a model for anti-hegemonic
practice (n.d.:22-25). Such a dynamic is epitomized in the yearly Aloha Festivals (aka
Aloha Week), a series of events that invests "royal courts" on each island to ride in
parades, attend royal balls, preside over ceremonies, and make appearances at concerts,
celebrations, and block parties that bring in over 8,000 visitors and 11 million dollars to
O'abu alone during its peak week ("Aloha Festivals" 2002; Lynch 2001). Thus even a
site such as Pu'ukoholii that was so heavily steeped in traditions ofpolitical struggle, war,
and struggle became a victim ofcolonial sacrifice, and on its own alter no less.
As I laid out in the previous chapter, the Hawaiian cultural nationalist movement
that began in the 1970s brought about transformations in the ways that Kanaka 'Oiwi
imagined their history, culture, and sacred sites. During the late 1980s, acts of,
commemoration started to take on new meaning as a number ofevents marking the rise
and fall of the Hawaiian Kingdom loomed on the horizon. Focus shifted from
114
remembering a culture and history of the past to re-membering a liihui today, one that
would follow in the footsteps ofthe ancestors.
Thus in ]989, the organizers of the 199] bicentennial observation of
Kamehameha's consecration ofPu'ukohola planned an event that would be unlike any
other activity before it. They asked Sam Ka'ai, a carver and cultural practitioner from
Kaupo, Maui, ifhe would chair the bicentennial committee. Sam had been involved in
the Pu'ukohola cultural festival since 1979 as a pii blower and as an artisan. He agreed
but warned them that "he's not gonna make you one bettah Aloha Week, he goin' change
you" (Ka'ai 1999a). The organizing committee was comprised of NPS staff, Hawaiian
Civic Club members, and elders from the Hawaiian community, and individuals that Sam
brought in such as kumu hula, chanter, and educator John Keolamaka'ainana Lake. Lake
recalled that the original intention was to plan a "commemoration of Pu'ukohola, and of
course all the goals and the virtues and values ofKamehameha" (Lake 2(03). Eventually
though the committee decided that the event would be "not only a commemoration of a
place, but there had to be a...recapturing, revitalizing, and literally that is why we called it
Ho'oku'ikahi (unify)...challenging again, slamming together as one" (Lake 2003).
The word ho'oku'ikahi, which means to unify, reconcile and literally "pound" or
"slam" together as one, perfectly encapsulates an important dimension of
commemorations and other types of "memory work." As Gillis points out,
"Commemomtive activity is by defmition social and political, for it involves the
coordination ofindividual and group memories, whose results may appear consensual
when they are in fact the product ofprocesses ofintense contest, struggle, and, in some
instances, annihilation" (Gillis 1994:5). Myerhoff eloquently describes the process ofre 
membering as a "special type ofrecollection" that calls attention "to the reaggregation of
members" (Myerhoff 1982:1] 1):
115
Re-membering, then, is a purposive, significant unification, quite different from
the passive, continuous fragmentary flickerings of images and feelings that
accompany other activities in the normal flow of consciousness. The focused
unification provided by Re-membering is requisite to sense and ordering. A life is
given a shape that extends back into the past and forward into the future. It
becomes a tidy edited tale. Completeness is sacrificed for moral and aesthetic
purposes. Here history may approach art and ritual. The same impulse for order
informs them all. Perhaps this is why Mnemosne, the goddess of Memory among
the Greeks, is the mother of the muses. Without Re-membering we lose our
histories and our selves. Time is erosion, then, rather than accumulation.
For Sam and the other committee members, ho'oku'ikahi represented this type of
memory work. Recall Sam's UH talk that I opened with; in his "masculine call" he
warned that the members ofthe current generation must renew themselves lest the Lord
Makani blows away their memory, leaving them with nothing, not even the song that the
navigator sings as his path behind him disappears in the waves oftime (cf. Diaz and
Kauanui's quote on p.22). Re-membering the mo'olelo ofPu'ukoholii would involve the
re-unification ofelements of Hawaiian culture and society that had been dis-membered.
This involved healing the divisions and animosities between the descendants of
Kamehameha and those ofKeouakii'ahu'ula; unifying Kanaka Maoli searching for
cultural identity, spiritual guidance, and political sovereignty; and reconnecting with
other Polynesian and indigenous peoples whose histories we shared.
Importantly, this would require authentic cultural practices and rituals, which
meant that they were not doing it as a pageant or tourist-oriented (read inauthentic)
performance that had become the norm. John Lake related, "when I first started out, in
our discussions...we had this conflict...was it meant to be a pageant or not? And it was
116
never meant to be a pageant, but we had to rehearse things, because people didn't know
how to hold a damn spear in the fIrst place" (Lake 2oo3). As I mentioned already, Sam
was not in the business ofmaking an Aloha Week court more authentic; he was there to
get rid ofit.
Much ofthe impetus for this re-membering ofan authentic identity came from a
very profound sense that most Hawaiians had indeed forgotten what it meant to be
Hawaiian, especially people in Sam's generation who had grown up during the Territorial
and early statehood period offorced cultural anmesia. Individuals like Sam and John
Lake were exceptional in that certain traditions were indeed maintained in the home; for
most others, the colonizing drive to be American maligned Hawaiian traditions as
backward, heathen, and wholly negative unless performed for tourists or confined to
parades.
This sense ofa lost cultural identity was further reinforced by comparisons with
other Oceanic peoples whose culture seemed to be more "intact." John Lake recalls that
when the Festival ofPacifIc Arts (then called the South Pacific Arts Festival) was frrst
held in 1972, the organizers did not invite the Hawaiian people because "they were
already known as 'they had lost their culture,' that the Hawaiians didn't exist" (Lake
2003). Yet as ofthe cultural revitalization popularly known as the "Hawaiian
renaissance" (Kanahele 1982) flourished over the next few years, especially with the
construction and successful sailing of the double-hulled voyaging canoe Hokiile'a to
Tahiti (FInney 1979), organizers of the next Festival in AotearoalNew Zealand (1976)
extended the invitation to Hawai'i. Lake, who at the time was on the State Foundation on
Culture and the Arts, chaired the committee that selected and sent the frrst contingent.
Because the Hawaiian contingent was comprised primarily of women (who Lake said
were the main ones carrying out the arts at that time), certain Maori groups became
117
offended since only men were allowed to speak on their marae (ceremonial meeting
places).3o At other festivals, such as the one that Sam mentioned in his UH talk, the
inability ofmost Hawaiians to speak their language coupled with their hotel-style aloha
shirts, slacks, and 'ukulele proved to be a source of chagrin as the extent of their
Westernization was brought into high relief. Moreover, when Maori delegations came to
Hawai'i, they often asked, "Where are your meeting places? What do you do with them?
Where are your men?" (Lake 2003). Sam remembered that when TIihoe leader Jolm
Rangihau came to Hawai'i, he asked Sam:
"Wha.t do your Hawaiian men do on their maraes? What do Hawaiian women
do?" He said, "1 see you grow a lot of...weeds. But if you do not know, I, your
Maori brother, will show you, if you are that empty. But ifyou are challenged,
then invite me, 1 want to see (Ka'ai 2002).
Thus, in addition to the renewed focus on revitalizing traditional practices, this
commemoration was also meant to respond to the questions of the Maori cousins, to
reclaim a place for Kiinaka Maoli to congregate, to come together, and to ho'oku'ikahi.
Jolm Lake explained that "in the 19th century, the churches took the place ofthe heiau;
they became the meeting place" (Lake 2003). For the organizers of the Ho'oku'ika.hi
though, the ceremonies were meant to reclaim the heiau as the meeting place for the
people, a site in which authentic rituals and cultural practices would ground and support
political and social endeavors. By rededicating Pu'ukohola, the committee intended to
bring new life to the heiau, which in turn would bring new life to the people.
Thus Sam took his message ofcritical re-membering to the Hawaiian community
in meetings and presentations such as the one I opened the chapter with. The event was to
"commemorate in an authentic Hawaiian manner" the 1791 event, but also to "unite in
harmony...all Hawaiians" and to "heal...the bitterness, grievance, and enmity of the past
118
200 years" ("Ceremony" 1991; Gark 1991; Ka'ai 1991).31 Representatives from the
Keouaku'ahu'ula lineage would travel on the Hi5kiile'a to retrace the Ka'u chief's voyage
and end at Pu'ukoholli where the descendants of Karnehameha and his chiefs would greet
their cousins with aloha, conduct a special 'awa ceremony, and then end in the afternoon
with a public event that would include the presentation of ho'okupu brought in by the
various organizations. The organizers made a special effort to dissociate the heiau and its
akua with its common characterizations of"Kamehameha's war temple" and "god of
war." They argued that such a reading is wrong for it only examines one element in what
is a larger project ofgovernance, industry, and uprightness, which KU represents in his
multiple facets. Instead, Pu'ukoholli was to be a temple of state for those seeking a new
Hawaiian nation, and by petitioning the heavens where unification was accomplished,
Hawaiians will once again unite and erect the lahui.
Historian Fred Kalani Meinecke combed the archives and historical accounts and
turned up nine different versions ofwhat happened on that day in 1791. John Lake
organized Nli Wa'a Lalani Kahuna (chanters and ceremonial attendants) and researched
the protocols and ritual practices appropriate to the event. Parley Kanaka'ole, a
descendant ofthe kahuna from that heiau, took on the role ofkahuna nui. Others like
Hale Makua became advisors for Keouakii'ahu'ula Gora and Keali'i Gora, the
descendants of the Ka'U chief that would represent their families. William'Akau, a
descendant of Kamehameha, was one ofa number of individuals whose lineage qualified
him to form an Aloali'i (chiefly entourage) that would meet the Aloa1i'j of
Keouaku'ahu'ula. The Kahaiali'i family of Maui (Thelma Ka'awaloa, sister Ulu and
brother Manu) were actively involved in the production oftheklihili, 'ahu'ula (feather
cloaks), and mahiole (helmets). Their family had an even greater claim to the heiau as
descendants of the Lono clan that were keepers of the heiau since the 15
th
century (Ka'ai
119
1999a). Representatives from the Park and the civic clubs such as Rose Fujimori, Daniel
Kawai'ae'a, Lorna Akima, Jerry Shimoda, Elaine Flores, and others helped to organize
logistics and gather support from the Hawai'i island communities. Countless individuals
from the community volunteered their time and energies for nearly two years to help with
the manufacture of the garb, weapons, and implements that would be utilized at the event.
A select crew trained in the practices and rules of conducting an 'awa ceremony that
would bind the participants together.as they shared the sacred drink. Over 750 special
invitations went out to Hawaiian organizations and various Polynesian and indigenous
nations.
Yet tensions developed as older forms ofremembrance and commemoration,
which associated the past with the dead, conflicted with the newer forms ofpractice and
ritual that sought to bring new life and energy to the culture. A number ofelders in the
Hawaiian community chastised the committee and said they did not know what they were
doing or what they were dealing with and that they should not be going on places like
that-the old religion was dead and should be left in the past (Ka'ai 1999a; Lake 2003).
Many Christian Hawaiians were quite resistant to what they saw as the revival of
heathen, dark, and primitive customs (Friesen 1992; Ka'ai 2003).
Another obstacle emanated from the very problem that~amespecially sought to
correct-the absence of Hawaiian men. Women were quick to lend their efforts to the
production ofti leafcapes, cloaks, and other pieces to be used during the ceremonies.
Men on the other hand were hard to come by, especially those that would work with Sam
to carve the weapons. Owing to a lack ofcarvers (as well as institutional barriers to
procuring wood in a timely manner) Sam enlisted the work of inmates at Kfilani Prison to
help with the carving of spears.
120
More pressing though was the need for men to stand as Nii Koa, the regiment of
forty "courageous ones" and spiritual warriors that would be garbed in malo (loincloth),
'ahu Iii'i (ti leaf cape), kiima'a (fiber sandals) and anned with sixteen foot poloW. In
seeking to emulate the values ofKamehameha, Sam decided that the first and foremost
value was koa-a culturally and spiritually grounded bravery, courage, and warriorhood
that had been lost, especially among Hawaiian men. Sam explained that when he put Nii
Koa together, "the primer to all of this was'A '00 maoli? Are you real?' What have you
done to prove you're real? Will you be disciplined?" (Ka'ai 1999a). Furthermore, he
added that Nii Koa was "not about being warlike," but "being courageous enough to look
at your spirit...It's about spending yourself, and in the spending you know more about
yourself, things you already are" (Meyer, et al. 1998). It was also important that these
men come from Hawai'i island and have some genealogical connection to the place, a
further affirmation of authenticity.
Since Pu'ukohola was a luakini po'okanaka, women were traditionally prohibited
from stepping onto such a structure. Thus a gathering on such a site might have appealed
to Hawaiian men who felt they no longer have a place oftheir own as Hawaiian men.
However, many Hawaiian men were too embarrassed to put on a malo and display
themselves so openly, a testament to the efficacy with which colonization inscribed new
regimes ofpropriety, decorum, and domestication on the body (Stoler 1995). Sam
recalled:
I had this kid come up tom~hedives with levis on-bigkanaka; he says, "I like
one spear, but the heckifI goin get naked fo' you guys." We had two years of
resistance about the malo (Ka'ai 1999a).
So difficult was it for men to overcome their embodied inhibitions that up until the
morning ofthe ceremonies he only had thirty-nine men.
121
Despite these various factors, the organizers managed to push through and on
Saturday, August 17, 1991, Ho'oku'ikahi was held
32
• At about 9:30 a.m.,
Keouakii'ahu'ula and Keali'i Gora arrived at Kawaihae on the H6kiile'a after completing
a five-day journey. A ka'au ofNii Koa descended from atop the hill and assembled on
the beach to greet the Ka'ii delegation. Nii Wa'a Lalani Kiihuna chanted various mele of
praise as the descendants ofthe rival chiefs greeted each other in aloha. An 'awa
ceremony honoring the ali'i, invited guests, Hawaiian societies, state dignitaries, and
representatives from Tahiti, Samoa, Marquesas, Rapa Nui (Easter Island), and a number
ofcontingents from Aotearoa/New Zealand. Through the sharing ofthe 'awa,
participants pledged their commitment to unite in peace and to maintain traditions for the
next seven generations as individuals chanted, sang, and gave speeches in their native
languages.
Following a break in activities, the public ceremonies commenced at about 3:30
in the afternoon. Between 1,000 and 2,500 people in total had gathered for these official
ceremonies. Programs were handed out and an emcee narrated some of the historical
events that this event was meant to commemorate. Nii Koa took their place as a standing
regiment, ready to support the ali'i and kiihuna ofthe temple. The ali'i took their places
below the heiau, and kiihuna assembled at the base ofthe lele (alter of offering) where the
ho'okupu (gifts, tributes) would be given. An image of Kiikii'ilimoku was posted, along
with black and white kiihili kapu; piilo'ulo'u (kapu sticks) accompanied the image of
Kiinuiiikea from the heiau, and the kiihuna began to conduct the ceremonies. At the lele,
the representatives ofKamehameha's lineage returned the cloak of Keouakii'ahu'ula to
his descendants in a symbolic gesture of reunification. Thereafter followed the
presentation ofho'okupu, 'Mana, and prescribed mohai (ceremonial offerings, sacrifices)
in counts offorty. These included dances, chants, taro, sweet potatoes, bananas, sugar
122
cane, fish, 'awa, and others. International delegations also presented gifts and gave
speeches, perhaps most dramatic were those of the Maori. The ceremonies ended at
about 7:00 pm with chanting and the sound of Sam's pIT. By all accounts, the event was a
success and marked an important new beginning in spiritual growth for the Hawaiian
people.
Figure 16. IDustration ofSam Kaha'i Ka'ai and Nil Koa at 1991
Ho'oku'ikahi. From Pu'ukoholil Calendar. Courtesy of Elama Farm.
123
Figure 17. Ho'oku'ikahi 1997, Pu'ukohoUi Heiau.
Photo courtesy of Elama Farm
Conclusion: living histories re-membered
Steve Friesen, a professor of Religious Studies at the University of Missouri,
Columbia, attended Ho'oku'ikahi in 1991 while a visiting researcher at the East-West
Center's Institute of Culture and Communication in Honolulu. In an insightful
conference paper, Friesen (1992) describes the parameters of change and contexts for
negotiation that framed the event and created various problematics and possibilities of
transformation. He notes that the event "included overt attempts to change contemporary
understandings of the narratives about 1791," most prominent of which was the role of
Keouaku'ahu'ula (1992:12). As Sam related to me, Kalani Meinecke, who is from Ka'u,
reviewed nine different accounts of the event, and in order to truly bring together the
124
people in ho'oku'ikahi, a story that held both ali'i in esteem was required. Though the
stories of Desha and Poepoe certainly work to exonerate Kamehameha from charges of
treachery and deceit, they do little to provide a more positive interpretation for
Keouakii'ahu'ula's choice to come to Kawaihae (death by prayer is not exactly a noble
ending). Thus in retelling the mo'olelo at Ho'oku'ikahi, organizers spoke of
KeOuakii' ahu'ula's act as one ofself-sacrifice in order to spare the lives ofhis people and
ensure that his region survive (Friesen 1992:13).
Another site for reinterpretation was Keouakii'ahu'ula's action ofcutting ofthe
head of his penis, which Kamakau writes "'0 ka make ia a Oli" (It is the death of Oli).33
A footnote by the editors ofthe English translation says that this referred to the practice
of a sorcerer using the body part to pray to death the victim's killers (Kamakau 1992:156,
fn*). This has been read as a final act ofdefiance that made him an imperfect sacrifice
(Meyer et al. 1998). Friesen writes that Sam offered him a different reading, "By
submitting to the will ofthe akua (god) through great pain and humiliation, Keoua bound
himself eternally to Kamehameha as his messenger to heaven...who would make
petitions on his behalf' ; thus, Friesen argues, Keouakii'ahu'ula becomes "a cultural
model for self-sacrifice" (Friesen 1992:13). Such historical reinterpretations provide a
model ofincreased cooperation among descendants who, as I have argued throughout this
chapter, actively form their identities through understandings and interactions with their
past.
It is important to remember though that such an exercise is always constrained by
the larger social, political, and economic conditions that frame these activities. As
Friesen notes, the heiau's designation as a National Park precluded organizers from
officially billing the activity as "religious" or "spiritual" lest they be charged with
"illegally establishing a religion"; thus Ho'oku'ikahi was billed as a "cultural festival."
125
As 1 explained earlier, the harshest criticisms came from the devoutly Christian sectors of
the Hawaiian community, those that only accepted presentations ofthe "old ways" in
pageants, parades, and shows that were qualitatively not real. One must also remember
the longer history of pageants and festivals that preceded Ho'oku'ikahi, celebrations that
reified the defmition of the site as a memorial and not as site of living culture or history.
Thus it should come as no surprise that efforts to conduct "real" and "authentic"
ceremonies and rituals were constantly frustrated by others' interpretations and
perceptions ofwhat was and what should have been taking place there. This speaks to
the nature of any site ofpublic culture, for as White explains "conflicts over public
memory...reflect ambiguities in the means and modes of historical representation in
public spaces, especially national institutions marked as sites of official culture" (White
1997:8). Thus at the end of the event, a Hawaiian man nervously came to what he
thought would be a religious ceremony, went up to Sam with a smile and laughed, "Why
didn't you sayit was a pageant?" Sam almost said to him, "Ifthat was a pageant, we
should have sacrificed you!!" Yet he realized that "they grew up with that, an antiseptic
separation from their spiritual beliefs" (Ka'ai 2003).
In light ofthe foregoing discussion of antiseptic separations and sliced-offpenis
heads, I would like to conclude with a central point ofthis dissertation-how does one re 
member a sense ofHawaiian manhood that was quite violently dis-membered? In
Friesen's discussions with the organizers, gender issues surfaced often. He notes that "In
general, there was agreement that male aspects of Hawaiian culture had not been
maintained as they should have been," and that this was one ofthe motivating factors that
led to the formation ofNa Koa (Friesen 1992:23). He also heard the various statements
that ranged from "women have done a good job oftransmitting the culture and the men
now need to do their part" to "in the absence ofmale leadership, Hawaiian women have
126
become too assenive" and "men now need to take their rightful place" (pp.23-24). In the
preparing for the ceremonies, women played an important and enthusiastic role in
producing the capes and cloaks to be used; in contrast, men were hard to come by when
carvers and Nii Koa were needed (p.24). During the actual ceremonies though, women
generally played a secondary role. In his opinion, "there was a subtle suggestion in the
official discourse that was critical ofpublic activities by women"; this was evidenced by
what he saw as a negative evaluation of Ka'ahumanu, the daughter ofKe'eaumoku (who
is credited with killing KeouakU'ahu'ula) and the wife ofKamehameha who played an
important role in dismantling the 'aikapu religio-political system of separate eating after
Kamehameha passed away (p.25).
Many observers noted the prominence of men and masculinity on the heiau,
especially as displayed by Nii Koa. Newspapers commented on "the impressive sight of
na koa, a company ofwarriors, in ti-leafcapes and bearing pololu" who "stood at
attention for during the ceremony and at times chanted praises to the two chiefs" (Ward
1991). One reporter posited, "the observance sparked renewed interest in traditional
Hawaiian male activities and games" and noted the performance of "warrior hula"
(Conrow 1991b).
Indeed, many of the men who panicipatep as Nii Koa give testimony to their own
personal transformations. Sam Ka'ai related:
After the ceremonies finished, within two weeks we had guys walking into banks
with malo and t-shirt! You understand that transformation? Nii Koa literally
means "courageous." Yeah it means soldier too, but it means courageous. That's
why we laugh when these guys come up to us and say "My malo stayed on!"
Cause for most ofthese guys, they always wonder, "Will this damn thing stay on?
Will I embarrass myself?" (Ka'ai 1999a).
127
John Roberts, a member of the original group, testified:
Part of the mission ofNli Koa was, ah, the vision to preserve our culture. And, as
a Nli Koa, every one of the members has committed to preserve it for seven
generations. Might not be in our lifetime, but it's gonna carry on by teaching our
family, and our friends, about the culture and also the history of the heiau that, ah,
we protect. And I'm very strong into the culture now, and I'm very proud that
I'm Hawaiian (Meyer, et al. 1998).
Another member ofthe original unit was Arthur Kepo'0, who asserted:
All what we did at dat particular time, it is not like any pageantry dat you can
Aloha Week. It signifies that whatever took place 100 years ago, 200 years ago,
we are sort of saying that this is us. This is how we were a long time ago (Meyer,
et al. 1998).
As I have argued, all narratives of the past, whether recalled events or academic
histories, actively create the present through their retellings. This quality imbues history
with its dual potential as a technology of oppression and resistance. Colonial discourse in
Hawai'i worked incessantly to degrade the Kanaka Maoli past and as one "steeped in
barbarism," whose 18
th
century race was comparable to Europe's prehistory and whose
"degenerate offspring" ofthe 20'" century lacked even "one hundredth of the manhood
possessed" by Kamehameha, the "heroic savage" whose story was best heard by men of a
different race who would benefit from it (see Gowen above). Kfulaka 'Oiwi in the
Territorial period clearly recognized the threats to their continued existence, but they
found strength, courage, hope, and guidance in their mo'olelo.
Over the years, stories ofwarriorhood and chiefly courage were nostalgically
recreated in parades, pageants, and tourist shows. As I have argued in this chapter and
the last, the discourse of tourism (and militarism) worked to domesticate and feminize the
128
islands and the people. The modalities ofhistorical and cultural representation that the
pageants and parades utilized were the same ones used in the tourist industry: bodily
performances ofa romantic past that featured the woman, whether it be in the form ofthe
"hula maiden" dancing in WaikikI or the "island princesses" riding on floats (Desmond
1999; Stillman 1994). Yet as "plastic" as these spaces may have been, they nevertheless
provided a "safe" place to congregate and recall the mo'olelo kahiko (old stories) during
a time when the sovereignty, land base, cultural archive, and histories were being
systematically dismembered in the name ofAmericanization.
I have argued that identity formation through historical discourse depends upon
not only which histories are re-membered, but how and in what contexts these processes
take place. In specific, I argue that a number of oppositions are made by the men when
differentiating between older forms ofpageantry and newer forms ofpractice. Generally
speaking, the pageants are seen as being inauthentic, fake, Western, performed for
tourists or for money, and feminine. Participants describe the rituals and practices ofNli
Koa as authentic, strong, real, Hawaiian, done for oneself/family and culture, and
masculine. I will explore this dynamic in the next chapter as I discuss the emergence of
Nli Koa on Maui, and trace its shift into the Hale Mua. I would end here by arguing that
the gendered dynamics ofbecoming Nli Koa and reclaiming a Hawaiian identity at
Pu'ukoholli speak to the larger interconnections between culture and gender in the
Hawaiian movements today, dynamics that have important implications for the
possibilities and impossibilities oftrue ho'oku'ikahi.
129
ENDNOTES
I The collection by Hanlon and White (2000) contains some ofthe key statements made
by theorists on the "invention oftradition" and kastom during early and mid-1990s.
2 Admittedly a Hawai'i and even University of Hawai'i (if only through publication)
centric sampling, recent works include Hereniko and Wesley-Smith, eds. (2003), Diaz
and Kauanui, eds. (2001b), Borofsky, ed. (2000b), Hanlon and White, eds. (2000), and
Hereniko and Wilson, eds. (1999).
3 Ka Na'i Aupuni, November 27, 1905. The Hawaiian text and some of the translation is
taken from Edith McKinzie's M.A. thesis on Poepoe's narrative, which includes a
translation of the fust few installments, and the appendix, which is a typescript of the
entire serial in Hawaiian (Poepoe and McKinzie 1982:3-4). As McKinzie notes that,
"Poepoe was a language expert. His sophisticated use of Hawaiian language, idiom, and
analogy often led to a need for outside assistance....A smooth English translation,
accomplished by using an idea for idea procedure, would provide optimum access to
those people who seek the details contained in Poepoe's work, and this accessibility is the
fIrst focus of this paper. A more literal translation which would produce somewhat
stilted readability in English would allow those students oflanguage and culture the
insight provided by maintaining the Hawaiian thought process and sentence pattern." It
is the latter that I am after, though I do rely on McKinzie's translation as a base and from
there I compare it to the Hawaiian language text and translate more literally where I see it
is important to keep the original structure, phrasing, and multiple meanings of words (cf.
McKinzie 1982:20).
4 Ka Na'i Aupuni, November 28, 1905 (Poepoe and McKinzie 1982:6-7); Compare
translation with McKinzie (1982:23).
5 Following PeleiohOiani and Poepoe, Desha interprets Pu'ukohola as "desire (pu'u) in
the lagoon (kohola)." Since kohola does not take a kahako (macron) on the last "a", when
I talk about Poepoe's or Desha'suse of the term I spell the of the heiau without that
kahakO.
6 The most widely cited and accepted accounts of Kamehameha's consecration of
Pu'ukoholii come from two main sources: the writings ofhistorian and legislator Samuel
Mauaiakalani Kamakau, who wrote in the Hawaiian language newspapers Kuokoa and
Ke Au Okoa during the 1860s, and Swedish-born Judge Ahraham Fornander's 1880
publication on the "ancient history ofthe Hawaiian people," the second ofthree volumes
in his An Accountofthe Polynesian Race. Kamakau based his rno'olelo on oral traditions
and interviews with people who were alive at the time; his work was translated and
130
printed in 1961, with a revised edition appearing in 1992 and a compilation of the
newspaper serial with modern Hawaiian orthography added published in 1996.
Fornander's account (Fornander and Grant 1996:239-240,326-335) follows Kamakau
but also incorporates viewpoints from an unpublished discussion by noted Kanaka
scholar David Malo and the historical narratives ofmissionary Sheldon Dibble (1843)
and newspaper publisher James Jackson Jarves (1843).
Subsequent interpretations of Pu'ukoholii (and indeed most of Kamehameha's life) have
generally derived from and/or been in conversation with these two works, all to the
neglect (until recently) ofPeleiohOlani, Poepoe, and Desha. Two prime examples are
Kuykendall (1938, Voll:37-38) and Daws (1974:36-37). Kelly (1974:7) documents new
oral historical accounts, and Greene (1993, chapter 7, Rl online) draws upon an
impressive array ofsources, but neither diverge greatly from Kamakau and Fornander.
For more on Kamakau, see Kame'eleihiwa's introduction to the 1992 revised edition of
Ruling Chiefs, Chun's (1993:iii-v), Thrum (1918), and a biography by Puakea
Nogelmeier in Hawaiian in Ke Kumu Aupuni (Kamakau 1996:xxii-xxiv). For more on
Fornander, see Glen Grant's introduction to the 1996 reprint (ix-xviii) and Chapin's
discussion ofhis personal biography and his politics in the newspapers (1996:48-52).
7 See Pukui, Elbert, and Mookini (1974:38, 139, 199-200) for their definitions ofthe
names as I have used them this section. They appear to be ignorant or at the very least
neglectful ofthe alternate interpretations ofPeleiohOlani, Poepoe, and Desha.
8 Marion Kelly relates an oral tradition shared by E. Laau and W. Akau that gives an
alternative account of how Keouaku'ahu'ula was killed and how Pelekane got its name:
"Keoua is said to have been shot and killed by John Young and Isaac Davis who stood a
short distance back from the water's edge below Mailekini Heiau...This area now is
known as Pelekani[sic], meaning Britain or British, because ofYoung and Davis' action
taken there" (Kelly 1974:7, fn. **). This would agree with Kamakau, who says that
Keouacaught Ke'eaumoku's spear thrust and threw it back, at which point muskets were
fired from the shore (though Kamakau does not identify who fired the shots), and Keoua
and all the men on the canoe but two were killed (Nupepa Kuokoa May 4, 1867;
Kamakau 1992:157; 1996:111-112).
9 Kuokoa 1867 April 13, May 4 - May II. See also Kamakau (1996:103-104,109-113)
and Kamakau (1992:149-150,154-158).
10 Kamakau (1996:104). Compare with Kamakau (1992:150)
11 Kuokoa May 11, 1867 (Kamakau 1992: 157; 1996:112). In the next sentence Kamakau
immediately asserts that the ancient people perhaps did not know that it was Jehovah that
united these small polities under one nation and that the kingdom ofheaven was corning.
131
12 Poepoe's account ofthe prophecy, construction, and consecration ofPu'ukohola appear
in Ka Na'i Aupuni (hereafter KNA) 1906 May 17-19, June 21-July 11. See also
McKinzie's typed script (Poepoe and McKinzie 1982:247-249, 287-312).
BIn addition to "hill," "pu'u" also means "desire," in this case a pu'u for death to
consecrate the po'okanaka. This death would be secured in the "kai kohola," or the
"lagoon waters." The one to be offered up would be a "kini," which means "close
relative" as well as its conventional meaning of"multitude." This individual is a "maile,"
which is a metaphor for an ali'i. KNA June 24-25, 1906 (Poepoe and McKinzie
1982:290-292).
. 14 The 'aha'ula was first pulled taut and fastened between two posts. When an individual
or individuals stood below the 'aha'ula, a question was posed, and if it dropped or was
broke, the answer was yes; ifnot, it was no. Poepoe is explicit when he states that
Kamehameha's advisors had already predetermined that Keouakfi'ahu'ula should die, and
thus when they posed the questions to the 'aha'ula, they did so through riddling questions
that would result in the end they desired, that Kamehameha not be sent to Ka'ii. KNA
June 29-30,1906 (Poepoe and McKinzie 1982:296-299).
15 KNA July 2,1906 (Poepoe and McKinzie 1982:299-300).
16 KNA July 3, 1906 (Poepoe and McKinzie 1982:302).
11 KNA July 4, 1906 (Poepoe and McKinzie 1982:303).
18 KNA July 9-10,1906 (poepoe and McKinzie 1982:308-311).
19 KNA July 8, 1908 (Poepoe and McKinzie 1982:307)
W Though he does not provide a bibliography or utilizing any sort ofcitation system, he
writes in his forward: "Particular use has been made ofFornander's "Polynesian Race,"
Alexander's "History ofthe Hawaiian People," King Kalakaua's "Legends and Myths of
Hawaii," and some of the older histories such as those ofJarves and Dibble. The writings
ofthe old missionaries, such as Ellis and Bingham, have also been ofgreat service, and
ofcourse, also the Voyages ofthe great navigators, such as Cook and Vancouver"
(Gowen 1919:5). Not surprisingly, the only Hawaiian source is Kalakaua, which is
written in English and extensively edited by R. M. Daggett (Kalakaua 1990 [1888]).
21 Pierce notes the use ofthe term "Napoleon ofthe Pacific" in a 1913 pageant depicting
the landing ofKamehameha in Waikiki (Pierce n.d.:22). She also notes that his statue,
with its outstretched hand, bears a resemblance to Julius Ceasar (Pierce n.d.:34, fn.55).
22 Though much ofthe Desha's narrative ofKamehameha is almost word for word the
same as Poepoe, the latter is not acknowledged as having provided the basis for the
account, and based on the index ofthe English translation by Frazier, Poepoe is cited
only once throughout the whole narrative (Desha 2000:216). This would at first glance
seem to be blatant plagiarism, but it may also raise the question of how knowledge is
132
treated in a Hawaiian context. That is to say, if knowledge is seen as being collectively
owned, then it is not anyone individual's to claim. I do not know what the case may be,
but it would make for an interesting study.
To be fair though, Desha does include some different infonnation such as: a discussion
(HOH 12n/22; Desha 1996, Vol 2: 52; 2000:304) ofhow Kamehameha began to restore
Mailekini at first until Hewahewa told him that it was too low and that he should build
higher and from the sea will come the blessings (cf. Kinney 1913:45; Thrum 1907:69);
the words to two chants (given by Lucy K. Peabody) that Keouakii'ahu'ula uttered when
he called out to Kamehameha and an account ofKe'eaumoku using a lua hold to drown
Keouakii'ahu'ula rather than killing him with a spear (HOH2/1/23; Desha 1996, Vol
2:91-92; 2000:332); a discussion ofdiffering interpretations ofhow, when, and why
Keouakii'ahu'ula's body was baked, with the assertion thatit was done to cleanse and
honor rather than defile him (HOH2/8/23; Desha 1996, Vol 2:95-96; 2000:335); and an
new account from Ka'ii people who say Keouakii'ahu'ula and his general Ka'ie'iea
bravely warded offthe spears that were hurled at them from morning until noon, and
Keouakii'ahu'ula was only killed hours later when the warriors on shore began hurling
rocks and fatigue set in as he slowed his defense and was fatally struck in the head by a
slingstone (HOH2/155/23; Desha 1996, Vol 2:97-100; 2000:336-338).
23 Hoku 0 Hawaii July 13, 1922. Compare with Desha (1996, Vol1:355). Though the
1996 reprint of Desha's Hawaiian text is more accessible, certain words and grammatical
conventions were edited and so do not provide the exact text from the newspaper. 1 thank
Puakea Nogelmeier for alerting me to this fact. Thus I quote and translate from the
original newspaper installments; dates are provided in Frances Frazier's English language
translation Kamehameha and His Wanior Kekiihaupi'o (Desha 2000).
24 Compare with Frazier's translation (Desha 2000:248):
"How remarkable was the fulfillment of the prophecies by these ancient kiihuna ofthis
beloved land ofours. Thus do we think the life of this race shall return as in the famous
words ofHewahewa,.kahuna nui ofKamehameha, and spoken ofby Kamehameha when
Pu'ukohola (Heiau] was restored: 'Lift up high the position and face the sea, then from
the sea shall come the benefits.",
Frazier translated "a i kamailio aku ai ia Kamehameha" incorrectly as "and spoken ofby
Kamehameha"; it should translated "and spoken to Kamehameha."
25 Hoku 0 Hawai'i (hereafter HOH) January 11, 1923 (Desha 1996, Vol 2:79-80;
2000:323).
2<; HOH August 24, 1922 (Desha 1996, Vol 1:382; 2000:268).
133
1:1HOHDecember 21, 1922 (Desha 1996, Vol 2:62). Compare with the "OLELO
HOAKAKA" (preface) in HOH December 16, 1920, which Frazier translates (Desha
2000:xxvii) but for some reason does not appear in the 1996 reprint of the Hawaiian.
On the section quoted here, compare with Frazier's translation (Desha 2000:312):
''The main idea ofthe writer of the story ofKekiihaupi '0 is the education of this new
generation about some things pertaining to the stories of the ali'i and their brave men of
those ancient times in order for them to understand this great truth: Hawai'i Nei had very
brave ali'i. There were also very brave warriors in his beloved race ofwhom the Native
Hawaiian need not be ashamed. This is in order to give him the idea of the status ofhis
ancestors in those ancient times."
I have pursued the same translating process with Desha as I have with the previous
section of Poepoe. I looked first at Frances Frazier's translation (Desha 2000) and then
referred to the Hawaiian text as it appears in the 1996 reprint with modem orthography
added by LOkahi Antonio (Desha 1996). Frazier's (2000:xxiii) aim was to
"accommodate the modem reader while retaining as much as possible of' Desha's style,
and to that end she was successful. However, this meant that there were "numerous
departures from a strictly literal translation ofthe original Hawaiian text," such as the
division of"lengthy and complex sentences and paragraphs" and the alteration of Desha's
"capitalization, punctuation, and other conventions...to conform with current standards"
(xxiii). These elements are precisely what I sought to emulate for the distinctly Hawaiian
ways that Desha framed arguments and made commentaries, and so my translations are
much more literal. I also provide different and/or multiple glosses for Hawaiian words
that Frazier only provides only one for, an element that more accurately reflects the
multiple meanings of the words and interpretations that can be taken from them.
A note on the gendering ofterrns is also in order. In this section, Frazier translates the
first instance of"kiinaka koa" as "brave men" even though "kanaka" is not inherently
gendered and could also be translated as "people." This is understandable, for "kanaka"
sometimes takes on the masculine gender when it is used in relation to ali'i and is
understood as "the chiefs' men." Also, the bulk ofDesha's narrative focuses on male
chiefs and their male warriors, attendants, and servants. Yet Desha is quite explicit about
the need to recognize the role ofchiefesses and female warriors, as in the Battle of
Nu'uanu (1996, Vol 2:211; 2000:418). Thus I translate the next usage of "kanaka" as the
non-gendered "individuals" since Desha is urging his entire readership to be proud of all.
the chiefs, warriors, and brave people in Hawai'i's past. Likewise, I use "him/her" and
"his/her" for the non-gendered terms '''0 ia" and "kona."
28 HOllDecember 7, 1922 (Desha 1996, Vol 2:53; 2000:305)
134
29 The Pu'nkohola Heiau National Historic Site website lists as one ofits designations
"Historical Landmark - 1928." Greene makes no mention ofthis in her report that is
linked to the website. I called the Park office but the individual I spoke to was not able to
tell me anything more about this 1928 designation.
30 See Ralston (Ralston 1993) and Hoskins (Hoskins 2000) for debates in the Maori
community around the issue of(silencing) women's voices on the marae.
31 As I did not participate in the 1991 ceremonies, the following account is based on
newspaper articles ("Ceremony" 1991; Conrow 1991a; 1991b; Enomoto 1991; "From the
Past" 1991; "Kawaihae ritual" 1991; Ward 1991), interviews (Crabbe 1999; Ka'ai 1999a;
2003; Lake 2003; Niikiinelua 1999b; 2(02), a documentary on the event written by
Meleanna Meyer and John Lake (Meyer, et al. 1998), and an unpublished conference
paper by Steve Friesen (1992). I include direct citations only when I use quotes,
interpretations, numbers, and other information I feel I need to attribute to a specified
source, but I acknowledge my complete reliance on the aforementioned sources as the
basis for my own recounting of events. It also goes without saying that any omissions or
misquotes are completely my fault.
32 For more detailed accounts, see Meyer et al. (1998), Conrow (1991), Enomoto (1991),
"Kawaihae ritual" (1991), Ward (1991), and Friesen (1992; contact author for copy).
33 Nupepa Kuokoa May 4,1867 (Kamakau 1992:156; 1996:111).
135
CHAPTERS
PU'UKOHOLA: AT THE MOUND OF THE WHALE
Figure 18. Hale Mua 0 Maui, Pu'ukohola 2001
Ho'oku'ikahi-to unify as one. That is the goal of the present-day ceremonies
held at the heiau of Pu'ukohoHi, commonly translated as "mound of the whale," or more
literally "whale hill." The construction of this heiau in 1791 ensured the success of
Kamehameha's campaign to bring all of the island kingdoms under one rule-so said the
ancient prophets. The return to this place, now Pu'ukohola Heiau National Historic Site,
will bring about a reunification for our people who are struggling to regain and to reclaim
what was taken from us through colonialism-say our modem prophets. But much was
taken; and many feel that not all (if any) of it will be brought back. Others remain
hopeful while others innovate new things instead.
136
These thoughts meandered through my mind in August 2001 as I stood on the
outside comer ofceremonial grounds that had been set aside next to the Park's visitor
center above the heiau. The chill ofthe early evening hours soothed my partially
sunburned shoulders and back, which had been exposed to the elements all day and
which was even now only clad in a kihei and a malo. Earlier we roped off the grassy
clearing with sennit cordage that we strung through a dozen or more three-foot high
wooden posts with faces carved to resemble some Hawaiian god. We also laid out
lauhala mats for the majority ofthe participants ofthis fInal evening ceremony and 'aha
'aina (feast) to sit on; for members ofthe Royal Order of Kamehameha and other
distinguished guests, we set up benches. Finally, we split into two groups: one which
would serve the 'awa and the other that would stand as kia'i outside ofthe square.
As a kia'i, I was to maintain the kapu of the 'awa ceremony by insuring that no
one outside the square caused any disturbances and that anyone inside who needed
something was attended to. The Aloali'i, Nii Koa, Nii Wa'a Lalani, and the malihini
(guests) were seated and ready to begin. Our 'awa crew conducted the chants and
ceremonial serving of 'awa according to a protocol that recognized the malihini and the
ali'i. Tourists, friends,and other onlookers stood outside and watched-some more
content to do so than others. Earlier that night a man wearing a black malo tried to enter
the ceremony after it had begun. It took a very patient and prepared kia'i to inform him
that it was too late and that he should not make a big deal out ofit, though the disgruntled
Kanaka lingered on in the bushes.
Action also took place within the parameters of the square. I saw the bizarre
spectacle of a koa from one of the Aloali'i repeatedly hiss at one of our servers who had
brought them their 'awa (one ofmy fellow kia'i said that when he heard the noises
coming from this man's mouth, he turned around quickly-not in preparation to fIght, but
137
in readiness to save someone he thought was having a heart attack). Others acted in ways
that were much less amusing and closer to a threat. A koa from a different Aloali'i
continued to point his ihe at the servers (supposedly in protection ofhis chief) even after
the kapu was lifted. Members ofour two groups exchanged pointed words; thankfully it
ended at that.
There was also much to revel in. During the noa part ofthe night, groups of men
and women performed hula and sang mele. Our group presented a ha'a that was
. choreographed by our po'o (head) Kyle Niikanelua for "Na Hana Nui A Maui" (the great
feats of Maui), a mele written and performed by California-based kumu hula Mark
Keali'i Ho'omalu. To everyone's surprise (especially ours) and delight (especially the
women's), Kyle threw offhis pa'u (waist covering) and perfonned some very sexually
.provocative dance movements at the end of the ha'a.
The commencement of the 'aha'aina marked the closureofthe weekend's
ceremonies and the beginning of a long night ofcelebrating with a more conventional
drink-beer. Spencer Park became "party central" anQ the sounds of 'ukulele, guitars,
and Hawaiian songs fIlled the air below the heiau. It was my favorite time ofthe
weekend, for it was a time when everyone had gone through the rituals and "gone back to
nonnal." This "normal," ofcourse, had reformed because ofthe time spent together in
ritual and practice over the weekend. I also made new friendships with people I had
never met before. In the middle of the night, the "hisser" came to join us; he turned out
to be one of the kindest and most warm-hearted individuals I had met that weekend.
Transfonnations such as these occur frequently as a part ofthe ritual process. In
the previous chapter I discussed the larger historical mo'olelo ofplace that served as the
foundation for the 1991 ceremonies. Against the colonial discourses oferasure, death,
and emasculation, Kiinaka Maoli strove to deploy new discourses of spiritual health,
138
vibrancy, and strength. In this chapter I discuss theories ofritual and body and the ways
in which these frameworks help us to understand the transfonnations of selfand society
that are sought at Pu'ukohola. I then offer an "autoethnographic" review the history of
the Hale Mua as I have experienced it through participation in the group since 1997, as
well as a "thick description" (Geertz 1973) of the Pu'ukohoIa ceremonies of 1999. I
conclude with a discussion ofthe various tensions ofculture and gender that are produced
at the site and that have led to fonnation of the Hale Mua.
Ritual. body and history in Ho'oku'ikahi
As I laid out in the last chapter, Ho'oku'ikahi 1991 was a ceremony that among
other things meant to "unite in harmony ofbody, mind, and spirit all Hawaiians" and "to
heal now and forever the bitterness, grievance, and enmity ofthe past 200 years" (Ka'ai
1991). The organizers of the event were referring not only to the "bad blood" that was
created when Keouakii'ahu'ula was killed, but also the colonial dis-membennent ofthe
nation and people that followed. The committee thus thought to re-institute traditional
practices and rituals that would bring spiritual renewal to the people, place, and gods.
In thinking about the ritual aspect ofthe event, it is important to understand the
ways in which rituals create a context for ho'oku'ikahi-unification in body, mind and
spirit. Victor Turner's work on The Ritual Process (1969) directs our attention to this
very dynamic. Starting with Arnold van Gennep's seminal thoughts in The Rites of
Passage (1960 [1908]), Turner notes that van Gennep dermes "rites ofpassage" as "rites
which accompany every change ofplace, state, social position and age" and are
comprised ofthree phases: separation, margin, and aggregation (Turner 1969:94).
Focusing primarily on the "liminal" stage (that of"margin," a transition from one state to
another), Turner develops significantly the concepts ofIiminality and comrnunitas.
139
When individuals or groups ofindividuals enter the liminal stage of the ritual process,
they take on ambiguous identity, a condition that Turner describes as "neitherhere nor
there...betwixt and between" (p.95). Liminality is often represented through metaphors
ofdeath, being in the womb, invisibility and darkness; likewise, liminal entities such as
neophytes and initiates are represented as possessing nothing, are indistinguishable from
their fellows, and are treated (both symbolically and physically) "as though they are
being reduced or ground down to a unifonn condition to be fashioned anew and endowed
with additional powers to enable them to cope with their new station in life" (p.95).
These individuals develop intense comradeship and egalitarianism as secular distinctions
ofrank and status disappear (p.95). Turner notes that liminality is:
a 'moment in and out oftime,' and in and out ofsecular social structure, which
reveals, however fleetingly, some recognition (in symbol if not always in
language) ofa generalized social bond that has ceased to be and has
simultaneously yet to be fragmented into a multiplicity of structural ties..Jt is as
though there are here two major "models" for human interrelatedness, juxtaposed
and alternating. The first is ofsociety as a structured, differentiated, and often
hierarchical system ofpolitico-legal-economic positions with many types of
evaluation, separating men in tenns of "more" or "less". The second, which
emerges recognizably in the liminal period, is ofsociety as an unstructured or
rudirnentarily structured and relatively undifferentiated comitatus, community, or
even communion ofequal individuals who submit togetherto the general
authority of the ritual elders (p.96).
Turner labels this latter model "communitas" instead of"community" in order to
distinguish it as a "modality of social relationship" rather than an "area ofcommon
living" (p.96). As individuals relate to one another as "total beings" (as opposed to status
140
positions), cornmunitas comes to possess an existential, affect-filled quality that is highly
generative of symbols, metaphors, myths, art, and philosophies (pp.127-8). These
cultural forms provide subjects with "a set of templates or models which are, at one level,
periodical reclassifications of reality and man's relationship to society, nature, and
culture", and at another level are multivocal incitements to action and thought (pp.l28 
129). Like the liminal phase ofthe ritual process, situations of liminality and
cornmunitas frequently occur during times ofhistorical and societal change and provide
groups ofpeople-particularly those that are marginalized, oppressed, and structurally
inferior-with an experience ofrenewal, regeneration, revitalization, and even status
elevation and reversal, that enables them to return to society more fully capable of
participation in its structure (pp.128-133). Turner argues that social life is a type of
dialectical process "that involves successive experience of high and low, communitas and
structure, homogeneity and differentiation, equality and inequality," and that in the
process; the opposites "constitute one another and are mutually indispensable" (p.97). He
asserts that no society can function adequately without the dialectic ofcornmunitas and
structure, despite the frequent longings of liminal subjects to maintain communitas in
more permanent forms (p.129). The close connection between structure and property,
which is frequently the source ofstatus-related inequalities that lead to yearnings for
cornmunitas, precludes the possibility of maintaining cornmunitas when the material and
organizational needs ofhumans are to be met; thus cornmunitas (the anti-structure) must
by definition give way to structure for society to proceed (p.l29). In the end, both are
essential in the constitution ofthe "human condition" (p.130).
Ho'oIru'ikahi at Pu'ukohoHi provided a symbolically rich and historically deep
site for the ritual production of liminality and communitas. The event produced an "anti 
structure" (in Turner's words) to the dominant American, neo-colonial, late-capitalist
141
society of Hawai'i. By re-instituting an indigenous religio-political order that was
controlled by the ritual experts and elders, participants who became Nii Koa, Nii Wa'a
Lalani (chanters, priests), and Nii Aloali'i (members ofthe chiefly entourages) took on
new identities, statuses, and roles. The fact that roles were indeed created and a new
structure implemented suggests that the situations ofliminality and communitas created
there were inherently hybrid (Le., contained elements of structure and anti-structure),
which Turner himself acknowledges is often the case (1969:127). The key to remember
is that in counterpoising the dominant American structure with a Hawaiian one, and
doing so in order that participants would be renewed, revitalized, and reunited upon their
return to their regular lives, the ceremonies at Pu'ukoholii functioned along many of the
fundamental lines laid out by Turner. A deep communion was forged between groups
who participated, a mode of social relation made possible by seeing others not according
to their jobs or status outside ofthe ceremonies but as fellow Hawaiians coming together
to unite (cf. Schwalbe 1996; 1998). These dynamics will become more clear in
discussions on the Hale Mua below, but for now I would point out that these processes
are operative in the rituals that were enacted at Pu'ukoholii.
Within these rituals, bodily experience, action, and movement also played a
fundamental role in the creation of new subjectivities ofculture and gender. This speaks
to the "body-reflexive" nature of gender and identity practices that I described in chapter
two; in this construct, bodies are "both objects and agents ofpractice, and the practice
itself forming the structures within which bodies are appropriated and defmed" (Connell
1995:61). In the ritual process, liminal persons must often dress in little or no clothes,
maintain silence, withdraw from sexual activities, undergo physical ordeals and
humiliation, and submit to the authority ofthe community (Turner 1969:102-103). This
renders the initiate a "tabula rasa, a blank slate, on which is inscribed the knowledge and
142
wisdom ofthe group, in those respects that pertain to the new status" (p.103). In addition
to inculcating the specific values, noms, attitudes, sentiments, and beliefs of the
community, the "pedagogics ofliminality" also works to condemn two kinds of
separation from the generic bond ofcommunitas: those derived from "rights" conferred
by one's office in the social structure, and those based on psychobiological urges at the
expense ofothers (p.1OS).
There is also at work here a pedagogics ofthe body, for as Farnell reminds us,
"dynamically embodied signifying acts," such as those found in rituals, ceremonies,
sports, military, dance, martial arts, and fighting, "generate an enormous variety offorms
ofembodied knowledge" that are "constitutive ofhuman subjectivity and intersubjective
domains" (1999:343). On the level of epistemology, theories ofHawaiian knowledge
locate the processes ofempirical validation in bodily experience; similarly, pedagogical
styles emphasize emulation and mimicking rather than verbal instruction (Meyer 200I).
These values are taught and reaffirmed in numerous ways, among them the use of 'o1elo
no'eau (proverbs) such as "pa'aka waha, hana ka lima" (shut the mouth, keep the hands
busy) and "rna ka hana ka 'ike" (in working/doing one learns) (Pukui 1983:281,227).
Also relevant are 'Oiwi understandings of the self-such as the na'au (the intestines) as
the seat ofknowledge, emotion, and wisdom. Meyer (2001:142) explains:
Knowledge is not carved from anger orjoy. Knowing something is feeling
something, and it is at the core ofour embodied knowledge system. Knowing
something, however, is metaphorically housed in our stomach region because that
is also the site ofour emotions, our wisdom, as ifknowledge also shapes how we
emote. Perhaps then, feelings precede emotions, then wisdom develops
(emphasis in original).
143
At Ho'oku'ikahi, the pedagogics of liminality and the body challenged Nii Koa to
overcome bodily inhibitions and don malo, stand in formation for hours, wield sixteen
foot wooden battle pikes, and take on the collective identity of the "brown cloud," a
collective unit of indiscernible individuals who all embodied and performed an
aggressive posturing ofcultural identity (Friesen 1992:26).
The bodily experience became even more important in light of the fact that most
of the individuals on the heiau did not speak Hawaiian, the language in which the rituals
were conducted. Linguistic discourse became a barrier for many to overcome, and it
highlighted the novices' ignorance of cultural practices (and their liminal situation).
Participants who did not understand the verbal articulations had to rely on their feelings
and other sensory perceptions in order to more fully understand the rituals. Here the
emotive quality of the oli (chant) played a key role in the creation ofmeaning. Though
many people had been accustomed to oli in hula performances, this was the first time that
they had seen and heard them performed in actual ceremonies. The oli moved the
participants at a very deep level; even ifthe thoughts were not understood, the sentiments
were. Meyer et al. (1998) described, "As participants and invited guests assemble, they
are greeted with chants in our ancestral tongue, ka 'olelo kupuna, which speaks to our
entwined emotions, to our na'au, our shared feelings." Newspaper coverage, such as an
article written by Enomoto (1991), also highlighted the affect-filled testimonies ofthose
present. Katherine Domingo, a former pm ranger and volunteer maker ofNii Koa's ti 
leaf capes, expressed "'Olu'olu:I feel happy inside." Hale Makua, an elder and spiritual
advisor for the event, said, "I feel more than healed-more truth. You can't explain, you
just know." Finally, William Akau, the representative ofKamehameha's lineage,
revealed:
144
I cried because, during the chant as the Hokule'a approached, it was a special
moment. It comes from inside, a feeling of love and appreciation in doing this.
Peace and understanding are with na koa and aloali'i (Enomoto 1991).
Attention to the role of oli as a form ofembodied action and mediator ofbodily
experiences, especially those ofemotion, helps us to understand the ways in which
"dynamically embodied signifying acts (including spoken language) in symbolically rich
spaces are the dialogical, intersubjective means by which persons, social institutions, and
cultural knowledge are socially constructed, historically transmitted, and revised and so
are constitutive ofculture and self' (FamellI999:344).
Upon their return to society, the participants were renewed and imbued with a
new sense of Hawaiian identity. As Sam related in the last chapter, two weeks after the
event men were walking into banks with t-shirts and malo. On one level, this may be
read as an individual's effort to "live" and represent their Hawaiian identity in their daily
life and enact resistance to colonial American society by disturbing normative rules of
dress and decorum in the most higWy regulated and formalized institutions ofcapitalist
activity. As Merry (2000:221-231) lays out, colonization in Hawai'i, as elsewhere, has
historically operated in very intimate ways thrpugh the control, management and
refashioning ofthe Hawaiian body and sexuality (See also Stoler 2002). To flaunt these
rules is to directly challenge the raced, classed, and gendered colonial order of things.
Yet the "in-betweenness" and hybridity ofthe t-shirt/malo combination may also
mark an unwillingness to give up the deep and pleasurable experiences of liminality and
communitas and thus a corollary attempt to recreate them in bodily rituals of dress and
action. This highlights the ambiguities and contradictions ofa ritual process that returns
one to a still colonized social order. In the Hale Mua, men describe people who have a
difficult time getting back into their regular routine after Pu'ukohola as "burning-up on
145
re-entry." This astronomic metaphor is also applied more generally to those who had
lived a predominantly Euro-American lifestyle (often on the U.S. continent for some
duration of time) and when they later returned to the culture and land of Hawai'i, they
became overwhelmed emotionally and spiritually by the experience ofreconnection and
were subsequently incapacitated as they questioned their whole way of life. Like a
shuttle returning to earth from its voyage to other realms and the darkness of the
unknown (in Hawaiian, the po), the drastic spatial and temporal transition from one realm
into another poses a threat to the very constitution ofone's being. Men may experience
"structural damage" and be unable to cope with their normal lives and instead constantly
long for a return to Pu'ukohola and/or the "old ways" and the fellowship they
experienced there. Yet as Turner argues, the experiences of liminality and communitas
must give way to structure and must not be prolonged lest they subvert the very purposes
they were created for-to renew, regenerate, and revitalize individuals who will be more
fully capable ofparticipation in societal structures. I explore the implications for this
dynamic below, for it is one ofthe reasons that the Hale Muawas created on MauL The
point to note here is that the agency and role ofthe body in liminal rituals and experience,
which may be called "embodied liminality," provides men with a modality ofaction that
is both potentially transformative and dangerous on multiple levels of the self and
society.
These acts ofembodied lirninality also worked to reclaim a sense ofauthenticity
for Hawaiians and the Hawaiian body. Following Terrence Turner (1994), Farnell
(1999:347) urges us to recognize "the appropriation ofall aspects of bodiliness in the
production of personal and social identity within the culture of contemporary late 
capitalism." In Hawai'i, the apparatus ofglobal tourism has most visibly appropriated
the Hawaiian body as a commodity (Trask 1993b). Desmond argues that a "physical
146
foundationalism" operates in touristic discourse and posits the body as "that which is
really 'real,' a repository of truth" through bodily performances (I999:xiv). She notes
that "bodies function as the material signs for categories of social difference, including
divisions of gender, race, cultural identity and species" (p.xiv). Bodily performances
serve as the final authenticator of the commodity of"difference," and thus the industry
highlights the "centrality of the performing body, binding notions of 'factitiy,' presence,
naturalism, and authenticity together under the sign of spectator corporeality" (p.xv).
As I mentioned in chapter 3, the sexualized hula maiden and the feminized,
subservient native boy are the dominant images through which Hawai'i is marketed
internationally. Many Kanaka 'Oiwi view these images as gross misrepresentations of
real Hawaiians; yet at the same time, many others have internalized these images and
seek to embody these representations in their quests to achieve beauty. The most
important part to realize is that despite the visibility of (almost naked) Hawaiian bodies in
these advertisements, Hawaiians do not control these images. The embodied liminality
performed on Pu'ukohola heiau can thus also be seen as a concerted effort on the part of
Hawaiians to control their own images and bodies-and thus reclaim authentic ones-by
separating from and contesting the dominant touristic images. Ho'oku'ikahi created a
ritualized liminal space betwixt and between that ofthe neo-colonial modem Hawai'i and
that ofthe precolonial past, and it was there in the interstices of structure that new
identities were forged. It was also a site in which Hawaiians could embody traditions and
practices that had once been foreign to them and that they (usually) would not do outside
ofthe contexts created by such rituals, such as wearing a malo or carrying a spear.
Yet as I mentioned in chapter 4, the romanticized images have become so
normalized and domesticated through Aloha Week pageants and other "local" (though
not entirely) productions ofthe past that efforts to contest the dominant are quickly
147
understood within those very frames. This became apparent when one observer told Sam
"Why didn't you tell me it was a pageant?" This cognitive confusion comes from the fact
that visible bodily perfonnance is the hallmark of touristic productions, historical
pageants, and indigenous cultural practices. This reiterates a point in chapter 3: the need
to recognize and engage in the situatedness and hybridity that is a fundamental condition
of any activity, whether it be "hegemonic" or "counter-hegemonic."
At Ho'oku'ikahi, old/new modes ofbeing and acting were developed and
practiced. Ho'oku'ikahi 1991 at Pu'ukoholli represented not only a rededication of the
temple of state and the histories and traditions inscribed there, but also a ritual refiguring
and re-membering of the bodies that were present. The body is often described as one's
"temple," the site of daily rituals ofmaintenance, worship, and repentance. It has also
come to be the primary signifier and defmer of sexualized gender identities in modern
society. Thus Pu'ukoholli also became a ceremonial ground for the ritual installation of
what many men saw as a new model for a positive masculine cultural identity-Nli Koa.
In liminality, the men experienced and practiced alternatively situated modes ofbeing
and acting that were also inherently hybrid. Nli Koa presented a tough, aggressive, and
proud image of "regular guys" exhibiting bravery by overcoming personal fears and
standing up, ready to defend their culture. Their embodied liminality worked on multiple
levels to refonn their subjectivities and enable them to be more visibly active men in a
changing Hawaiian society.
As I mentioned at the end ofthe previous chapter, Pu'ukoholli in general, and Nil
Koa especially, produced a new modality ofre-membering Hawaiian history and identity.
When contrasted with older fonns of commemoration and pageantry at the site, the newer
ways of re-membering identity produced binary oppositions of authentic/inauthentic,
real/fake, strong/weak, serious/playful, Hawaiian/Westem, for tourists/for community,
148
for monetary profit! for spiritual growth, and (most relevant for the next two chapters)
feminine/masculine. As I show in this chapter, much ofthat history and memory work
was carned out in numerous ways through embodied actions. As Farnell reminds us, the
past remains with us "not only in words but also in our neuromuscular patterning and
kinaesthetic memories-the way in which specific experiences and concepts of .
time/space are built into our bodily modus operandi" (1999:353). Combining the
(corpo)reality of embodied experience with the multiple significations inscribed on the
marked bodies, ritual practices created a distinctly different way of knowing and living a
historically contextualized cultural identity. Such was the case when I became a part of
the group.
EnterNaKoa
Sometime in the end of 1997, my mother, a deputy prosecutor for Maui County,
told me that Rick Bissen, the chiefprosecutor ofMaui, wanted to talk to me about joining
Nii Koa. She asked me ifI had ever heard of the group, and I told her that I knew of them
as the lua group I had seen a video on AKAKU cable access that showcased them
welcoming the Hokiile'a voyaging canoe in Hiina. I had heard of lua in high school, and
all I could think about was the excitement of learning this secret art. My grandmother
reminded me that Rick's mother's family is the Niikoa 'Ghana from Pi'mana (where she
grew up and her sister and brother still lived) and that our families are both buried at the
Mahalani Cemetery that my great-grandfather established there. These signs all told me
that I was meant to be in Nii Koa.
149
Figure 19. Sam Ka'ai, Kyle Nakanelua, and Ke'eaumoku Kapu await the crew of
the Hokiile'a in Hana Bay, 1997. Photo courtesy of Elama Farm.
When I met with Rick the next day in his office, he explained to me what Na Koa
was, at least to him. He described the group as men and (at the time) one woman who
met to work out and train the body in martial practices that included but were not limited
to lua, and to learn and perpetuate the Hawaiian culture. He also told me about his first
experience in a ceremony as a koa, which he repeated to me when I interviewed him in
2002:
Ifyou'd have told me that I would be wearing a malo in public, at the arrival of
the Hokille'a, in 1997, in front of the Chart House, as the county prosecutor, with
other county officials walking by, I would have bet you every penny and dime I
had that I wouldn't. But the group was such that, especially from Kyle Nakanelua
who obviously sets the tone, was, "Eh, if you wanna come, come. If you wanna
150
participate, fme. Ifyou wanna wear a malo, fme; you don't have to." I mean
there was a real low, low pressure sale. So I was like, "Eh, how bad can it be?
Okay, I'll come." So was just a gradual, next thing you know I'm standing there
with this kahili, whatever, twenty-feet high, standing in one of the comers
wearing a cape made out ofti leaf....It was an 'awa ceremony, it was a greeting of
the Hokiile'a, ah, at Kahului Harbor....Our main role was to be kia'i, was to be the
guards. ofthe official ceremony...There was a lot of positive reaction from people
'cause people had seen 'awa before, but having the kia'i and the kahili really
added the reverence to it, yeah, formality that people had not seen before...Urn,
you know without being overbearing, without being hostile. It's just presence,
just the presence. People realize, "Oh, this is not fun and games, this is serious."
From asking people, you know, not to take photographs, to not allowing people to
enter. You know I didn't know anything ofwhat I was doing back then, I just
stood there and held this kahili, tried not to fall, let it drop, you know, I just, I was
like "wow, what an honor to be involved in this."
Nli Koa meant "the warriors," but it also referred to the bravery and courage required to
be a Kanaka male in Hawaiian society today.
I was a bit disappointed that we were not going to be focusing solely on lua, but I
was still very interested nonetheless. In the following weeks I began training with Rick
and his brothers-in-law Regan and Keith at Regan's house. We would start offeach
practice with a few short pule. After limbering up, we would do a number ofexercises
based on hula steps and then go into the basics of '0'0 ihe, spear throwing and dodging.
The hula exercises turned out to be the basis ofmuch of what was required for the
dodging the ihe, and although I was familiar with hula from high school, I still had a hard
time coordinating the twists in my waist and the grabbing or blocking of my hands with
lSI
the padded hau (hibiscus) sticks that were thrown at me. Eventually I became ma'a
(familiar), at least enough to avoid the bruises on my body that trained me through an
induction ofpain. We would close our practices with the pule Nii 'Aumakua and
exchange breath through the honi (touching of noses and inhalation ofbreath).
Eventually I went to my first large group meeting at Hale Nanea, an old
beachfront community hall near the Kahului Airport that was owned by the Royal Order
ofKamehameha. I met the other men, who numbered between ten and fifteen any given
week, and U'ilani, the one woman who trained with the group. I was the youngest person
in the group; most were between thirty-five and fifty. When we came together to begin
our meeting, we formed an east-facing kahului, the crescent shaped battle formation that
was maintained by the warriors ofMaui. We then conducted the pule He Mil and E H5
Mai. I had always been drawn to the spiritual, and the opening of the practice with pule
was important to me. We then went into the exercises that Rick had taught me, and
afterwards we engaged in wrestling contests. I had been participating in Hawaiian
language immersion programs for the last year and had gotten involved with holokai
(ocean voyaging) and repatriation/reburial ceremonies since 1996; along with my regular
workout schedule, I felt confident that I was prepared for the training. Yet when I was
put against U'ilani in a hakii moa ("chicken fighting" wrestling contest), she quickly
dispatched me with a deft move that landed me on the ground and taught me to never
underestimate or hold back against a woman. We also began to learn hula such as
Moloka'i Ku'i, a mele that we were going to dance with ihe. Eventually we ended in our
kahului, this one facing the west, and prayed Nii 'Aumakua. After exchanging honi, we
met up to conduct an informal Hawaiian language class taught by PiliCabatingan; as an
immersion teacher, I was recruited to help (even though I made it clear that I didn't
actually teach in Hawaiian because ofmy limited ability with the language). Our
152
practices followed this basic pattern for the next few months, though at some point I
noticed that U'ilani stopped coming around.
In early 1998, we held an ihe-making workshop at Sam Ka'ai's house. I first met
Sam in 1992 in a hotel lobby in Tahiti (though he does not remember it). I was a senior
at Kamehameha School and was traveling with a performing arts contingent of
Kamehameha alumni and instructors.' We were a part ofthe larger Hawaiian delegation
(of which Sam was also a member of) that journeyed to Ra'iatea and Tahiti (Society
Islands) to participate in a ceremonial gathering of Polynesian navigators and canoes at
the marae (temple) ofTaputapuiitea (See also Finney 1999). This event was to precede
the upcoming Sixth Pacific Arts Festival in Rarotonga (in the Cook Islands) that was
celebrating the revitalization ofvoyaging traditions initiated in large part by the journeys
ofthe Hokiile'a.
2
I was one ofthree student government representatives who were sent to
observe, participate in, and learn about Hawaiian leadership styles that were practiced by
the Kamehameha group. It was a deeply profound and transformative experience that
forever altered my outlook on life and political commitments as a Hawaiian.
One of the few discomforting experiences I had there came when I met Sam.
Sitting next to him in a Pape'ete Hotel lobby, I recognized his grizzly-bearded face from
pictures in magazines and appearances on television shows. He wore a boar tusk
necklace that fascinated me, but his silent and stem demeanor was intimidating. I
awkwardly tried to make light conversation, which only incited him to griIl me with
questions I could not answer, statements I did not understand, and a quick lesson in being
prepared to engage if you are going to start a conversation with Sam Kaha'i Ka'ai.
Luckily, I was soon rescued by one of my group whom I was waiting for, and I escaped
with only minor injuries.
153
Now five years later, I found myself in the very belly ofthe beast. Sam still threw
words like spears that buried themselves deep in the na'au. Through the numerous
weekends spent at his house, I also came to know that when he bore his tusks, he did so
with aloha and deep affection. He constantly challenged us to detect the uneven spots on
the pieces of 'ohi'a (a Hawaiian hardwood) and to find the center lines; ifwe could not
do it, he made us "snap the lines" with the chalk-covered string, and he showed us once
again what we needed to do. He was patient but deliberate, interweaving scoldings with
anecdotes ofhis youth as he helped us to shape the 'ohi'a into the physical manifestations
ofakua,lctipuna, and ultimately ourselves. I named mine Ka'imina'auao, "the search for
wisdom," a search that necessitates a piercing of darkness ofthe na'au to expose it to
light.
We used our ihe in practice during the exercises and in our Moloka'i Ku'i hula,
which made the dance a pahua (spear-dance). Kyle taught us new ihe strikes and parries.
that he put into a twelve-move set called Kaihewaluakamehameha (The eight spears of
Kamehameha). The spear-work added greatly to our practices, and as my strength and
familiarity with Ka'imina'auao increased, I found new ways of practicing and expressing
my 'Oiwi identity. We also moved our practices temporarily to the Pi'ihana home of
Rick Bissen's aunty Winnie, which was the Nakoa family land adjacent to the Mahalani
Cemetery. On many different levels, I felt at home.
Yet just as soon as I had begun to belong, I had to withdraw. In June 1998 I
moved to O'ahu with my fiance Ku'ulei Reyes. We were married on August 8,1998 and
were preparing for graduate school at the University ofHawai'i at Manoa. Six days later,
Nii Koa o Maui flew to O'ahu to participate in the Hawai'i Loa Kii Like Kakou (All
Hawai'i Stand Together) Annexation Centennial Commemoration march and gathering at
'Iolani Palace. Since] had so many things going on in my life, I did not march with them
154
from the Royal Mausoleum at Nu'uanu and instead met them down at the Palace. There
were nearly 5,000 people in attendance who witnessed the procession of the Kii'ei Kapu
o Llloa that Nii Koa were guarding, the display of the 1897 annexation petitions
recovered by Noenoe Silva, and the raising ofthe Hawaiian flag over 'Iolani Palace.
3
When I finally found the Maui guys, they harassed me (in jest, I think) about not having
my malo and ihe, and then asked if I would be going with them on the following day to
attend the Pu'ukoholii ceremonies. For the same reasons I did not march, I declined to go
to Pu'ukoholii and simply wished them luck. I left with sadness and regret in my heart,
but I did what I felt I had to do.
Nii Koa 0 ka Hale Mua: the courageous ones of the men's house
After the usual six-month break following Pu'ukoholii, the weekly meetings
resumed. This year (1999) we practiced at the Paukiikalo Hawaiian Homestead'
community center, a site that stood in marked contrast to the other places we had
practiced at. I couldn't help but wonder what all of the Hawaiians playing softball at the
park or just walking past us thought about the sight of twenty men chanting, exercising,
dancing, and wielding weapons. This year we were using the pahoa ihu a'u (swordfish
bill dagger), and I used the one that PaId carved and gave to me when I moved. I only
made it to practice periodically since I was living on 0'ahu, but I was determined this
year to make it to Pu'ukoholli.
The new year marked an increased public awareness of the group and an internal
reworking of our identity. I began to hear the name Hale Mua being used more often,
something that was new to me but that I never really questioned until later. We had also
just purchased dark crimson red polo shirts with the insignia of an upward-facing
crescent moon. This represented Hoaka, the second night dedicated to the worship ofKii
155
in the 'aikapu period and a symbol associated with the Maui chiefs Pi'ilani and Kahekili.
It was also the kahului fonnation that we took up during pule.
The Hale Mua first showed offthe new shirts on the Easter Weekend of April at
the Seventh Annual Celebration of the Arts at the Ritz-Carlton Hotel at Kapalua, West
MauLs Clifford Nae'ole, the organizer of the event and a member ofNa Koa, scheduled
a showing of Ho'oku'ikahi: To Unify as One (Meyer, et al. 1998), a new film
documenting the 1991 commemoration at Pu'ukohola and the continued efforts to renew
the land and the people there. Immediately following the film was a presentation entitled
Na Koa: The Warriors. Nae'ole's description in the brochure stated:
The Warriors ofHawaii, a tradition once proud, now being revitalized by the men
of MauL Under the leadership ofKyle Nakanelua, protocol, spirituality and
physical prowess are being combined to bring back the ancient practice ofpride
with humility and power and grace.
About twelve men wearing crimson polo shirts with shorts or pants chanted to let people
into the room. Kyle introduced the group as the Hale Mua, which in ancient times was
"the fIrst fonnal institution where Hawaiian males learn to become Hawaiian males."
Cliff Alakai, one ofthe group's leaders and logistics organizers, welcomed the large
audience to this "presentation of notable men ofHawaiian ancestry, past and present."
He then spent some time introducing the group and what it means to be Na Koa.
Who are we? People always ask us "who is this group that we associate with."
And to be very honest with you, we are basically just a group ofguys who like to
get together and experience some ofthe cultural heritage of our ancestors. I think
you'll recognize some of the members ofour group. You've seen some of them
in the film Ho'oku'ikahi. Urn, you've seen us in various functions in various
capacities. I think this is one ofthe first performances where we've ever done
156
with long-pants on and shoes (laughter in the audience). It's something a little
different for us; we usually more dressed in more traditional wear.
Urn, our group goes by many names. Some people call us the Hale Mua, some
people call us Nii Keiki '0'0 The, and some people call us the Nii Koa. Let's take
a look at thellame Nii Koa. What does it mean to be a Nii Koa? Uh, fIrst let's
break up the name: nii, which is plural, and koa, which I will summarize to be
brave and courageous....What does the (Webster) dictionary tell us of courage?
"Courage is the capacity to meet danger without giving way to fear; to be willing
to put one's opinions into practice; to begin to be brave." I thiIik that's a suitable
defmition for this group. This defInition is also avery, urn, very heavy and deep.
Ittakes a lot of courage to defend one's beliefs and put these beliefs into practice.
To practice what you preach, or live your beliefs, is not very easy. Today, we will
present to you men that are--that were, or are willing to practice what they preach.
Some of these men are from a time long ago; some are recent. What I'd like for
you to do is sit back and listen to our, our ho'ike here, and look for the kaona, the
hidden meaning that you can apply to everyday life. I think you'll fmd that the
stories, although they may be old, apply to you in everyday life.
Then five men proceeded to share different mo'olelo ofmen who exemplified koa. Kyle
Niikanelua spoke about the chiefKamapua'a, an individual whose renown as a warrior,
farmer, healer, and spiritual devotee earned him a place in legends and myths that are told
each time a person plants a taro. Elama Farm recounted the fearlessness, strength, and
faith ofKekiihaupi'o, whose priestly lineage Elama connected to. Ke'eaumoku Kapu
(not a member ofthe Hale Mua but invited as the leader ofhis Nii Koa group) told of
another one ofKarneharneha's closest advisors--Ke'eaumoku. Rick Bissen traced his
own lineage ofkoa through his father's and uncles' military service and their connection
157
through the Pahukoa line to the Pahupii warriors of Kahekili. Kamana'opono Crabbe
shared his experiences as a member of Kiika'awe, a warrior vanguard that accompanied a
contingent ofKanaka Maoli who traveled to a Rhode Island museum in 1998 to retrieve
and bring home a sacred ki'i Hi'au (wooden image). He ended by honoring Thomas
Ka'auwai Kaulukukui, the warrior chiefofKiika' awe, who was sitting in the crowd.
After this, Kyle and the rest ofthe Hale Mua members in attendance ended by performing
the Moloka'i Ku'i with the pahoa ihu a'u that we had been training with. The local cable
access channel AKAKU video-taped and aired the presentation a number of times,
thereby greatly increasing the community'S awareness of the group.
Pu'ukohoHi 1999
6
Before I knew it, the months had passed and it was Thursday, August 12. A
tingle ofexcitement ran up my spine when I met Kamana'opono and Kiikona at the
Honolulu Airport Finally I was going to Pu'ukohoHi, a place where ritual, dance, chant,
and the kiipuna still flourished. Though what exactly would this place hold? Who would
be there? How will we be received? I got an answer much quicker than I anticipated
when I spotted a group of about eight men and three women wearing shirts similar to ours
but with a different pattern on the breast. Kamana'opono exchanged honi with them and
Kiikona and I knew immediately that they were from the O'ahu Na Koa group with
Ke'eaumoku. One ofthem smiled and said "Another year!" and then came over and
greeted us. Though very cordial, his eyes glinted with the fire ofone sizing up his
opponent and readying himself for battle. A nervousness came over me and I awkwardly
introduced myself to the others. Upon fmishing with check-in, I was thankful to see
Kamana'opono wave goodbye to the other Nii Koa and lead KUkona and me to the gate
on our own.
158
Pu'ukohoHl, August 1999
Images from video taken by Clifford Kapule Hashimoto.
Fig 20. Kona Airport, Thursday Fig 21. Spencer Park Pavilion, Th.
Fig 22. Men's lua workshop, Fr.
Fig 24. Hula workshop, Fr.
Fig 23. Women's Ina workshop, Fr.
Fig 25. on workshop, Fr.
159
Fig 26. First timers of Mua, Fr.
Fig 28. Mua below heiau, Saturday
Fig 30. Papa 'Akau Aloali'i, Sat.
Fig 27. 'Awa ceremony, Friday
Fig 29. Pu'ukohoIa heiau, Saturday
Fig 31. Spectators, Saturday
160
Fig 32. Wahine 0 Pu'ukohoIa, Sat.
Fig 34. Elama Farm chants, Sat.
Fig 33. Halau hula, Sat.
Fig 35. Aloali'i, Sat.
Fig 36. Martin Martinson, Sunday Fig 37. Kyle Nakanelua, Sunday
161
{J 1M .......
_.",
~,~
-----l~nc:tli"LU
r - ll.i'f,;.wNdb.~
Figure 38. Pu'ukohoHi Heiau National Historic Site Park Map, 1999.
Source: http://www.nps.gov/puhe/pphtml/maps.html
162
After a fairly uneventful flight, we landed in Kona and met the rest ofthe Maui
guys who had arrived before us and were already packing up the vans and trucks. Each
person radiated an exuberance that was contagious, and despite my earlier hesitations, I
soon began to relax and "go with the flow." There were about twenty-six men in our
group this year, two of whom were Sam Ka'ai's friends from Oregon. Once packed up,
we drove to the local supermarket to purchase our groceries for the weekend and any
snacks that individuals might want. It was about four in the afternoon when left and
made the forty-five minute trip to Kawaihae.
At the Park gate we turned off the main highway and drove down the access road
that took us past the heiau and below to Spencer Beach Park, our new home for the next
four days. Local people were enjoying the beach and sporting facilities while the new
throng ofvisitors was busily setting up tents and campsites. Thus I was surprised when
we pulled up to the pavilion and unloaded our ukana (baggage); apparently we (more
precisely, Sam and his crew) had the only covered shelter all to ourselves, and it came
stocked with cots provided by the Army. Most of the men went shirtless and wore only
shorts or a pii'U as we began setting up, cooking dinner, and preparing 'awa for one of the
weekend's ceremonies. Since 'awa is a slippery plant, an amazing number ofpieces
found their way into the mouths ofthose who were "helping." Being next to the water
also had its perks, and a number ofguys jumped into the ocean from the top ofthe
staircase leading down to the water's edge.
163
Figure 39. Na Koa and Hale Mua on shoreline stairs ofSpencer
Park Pavilion, 2000. Photo courtesy ofElama Farm.
Thursday Evening Hiilawai
At about 6:00 p.m. all of the participants in the weekend's events gathered in the
pavilion for an introductory and informational haIawai (meeting). Kahuna Nui John
Lake, the spiritual leader for the weekend, brought men and women from his halau hula
and Na Wa'a Lalani Kahuna. Three elderly men-Papa 'Akau, Papa Kawai'ae'a, and
Papa Kalahiki-represented the chiefly lineages of certain districts of Hawai'i and came
with their entourages. Na Koa of O'ahu also showed up, and I noted that one of myoid
Hawaiian language teachers stood in their ranks. Among Na Wa'a Lalani Kahuna I
recognized friends from UH who were involved in the Hawaiian Studies program. I was
surprised to find out that there was a group of women from Maui in attendance with
Aunty Thelma Ka'awaloa, one of the 'Elemakua (advisors); I knew one of the women in
164
the group through some of the men in the Hale Mua, but I was completely unaware that a
women's group even existed. I would have thought that we would have coordinated
something together, but that was not the case.
I was standing in the back with the rest ofthe Hale Mua trying to figure out who
was who when Kumu Lake
7
began chanting, with everyone who knew it following along.
Shortly thereafter people passed out sheets that contained the various chants used over
the course of the weekend as well as the mission statement that read:
Na 'Elemakua (Advisors), Na Alo Ali'i, Nil Wa'a Lalani Kahuna and Na Ali'i
koa ofPu'u Kohola shall provide a unique and fitting opportunity of the new
generations ofHawaiians to learn, understand, appreciate, preserve and advocate
their cultural heritage, therefore unifying their rich past with the present and
future generations. As the spiritual seventh generation, these components shall
endeavor:
oto develop the ways and means of insuring the integrity and dignity ofour
kupuna and to establish a priority of long range objectives
to establish Pu'u Kohola heiau as the center for the revitalization, perpetuation
and promotion oftraditional native Hawaiian culture
oto recognize that Pu'u Kohola heiau at Kawaihae, South Kohala, Hawai'i stands
as a historical symbol ofrich cultural heritage and of a civilization that was on the
threshold of nationhood. It is a heiau established by Kamehameha I as a temple
of State.
oto insure the understanding that the Na Papa kanaka 0 Pu'u Kohola shall be the
fundamental constituents in developing the educational process and resources for
this center
165
-to develop plans, schedule and implement activities throughout the year, that will
meet the aim and objectives ofnourishing and cultivating Hawaiian traditions
(Na Papa Kanaka 1999)
Kumu Lake spoke at length about the history and purposes of the event, which in short
fonn reiterated the goal of the 1991 commemoration: to ho'oku'ikahi and unify the
people at the temple where the prayer for unification was answered once before. Each
year had seen new growth, and this year exemplified it. Kumu Lake introduced the
various parties that made up the organizational body called the Papa Kanaka 0 Pu'u
Koholii: the 'Elemiikua, Nii Aloali'i, Nii Wa'a Lalani Kahuna, Nii Koa, and Nii Wahine
(the Women's contingent). He then placed the kapu aloha on everyone, a kapu that
required all gathered to show aloha to one another. Part ofthis entailed a prohibition of
alcohol, tobacco, and drugs during the ceremonial period that began at the meeting and
ended on Saturday night. This practice enacted a separation from ordinary social life, the
transition to a liminal state.
The Kahuna Nui briefly outlined the schedule for the weekend: Friday included
the Ha'ule Lani ceremony at 4:00 am, workshops from 8:30 am - 12:30 pm, and an
afternoon 'awa ceremony for first timers at 4:00 pm. Saturday occasioned the Ho'ola'a
Ali'i ceremony from 7:00 am - 9:00 am, the Pu'ukohola Festival at Pelekane immediately
thereafter, an evening International 'Awa ceremony beginning at 4:00 pm, and an 'aha
'aina from 6:30 pm till it ended. Finally, he would give a church service at Pelekane on
Sunday morning for anyone interested. Sam Ka'ai also talked at length, and in doing so,
defined the event as a gathering ofpeople who were "real." Others spoke too, but since
everyone was eager to get to sleep early, the speeches were cut short.
Once the other groups left, we prepared for dinner. Our "kitchen crew" quickly
and skillfully cut up the vegetables and steaks and threw them into a large wok heated by
166
a propane-burner. I tried to be as helpful as I could with cutting and cleaning, but the
crew was so efficient that there was relatively little for me to do. Like other camping
trips or weekend retreats I had attended in the past, the food tasted so much better than
normal, and we always had a lot of it around.
After dinner we went down to the beach to hi 'uwai (ceremonially cleanse) and to
ceremonially mark the time and space as sacred. Our hi'uwai consisted of stripping
naked and going into the warm waters ofKawaihae (luckily it was very dark at that time).
I was quite self-conscious at first and made my way into the water as quickly and
discreetly as possible. We all formed a circle in the shallow water and just hung out
"talking story" about various topics. I was startled to see Kamika jump into the air and
splash down on into the water as others in the group shouted "Lele Koholii!!!" (jump
whale!). I figured it must have had something to do with the fact thatwe were at the hill
of the whale, a unique bodily performance to be sure. Meanwhile, my naked body settled
into the soft, shifting sands like a blanket. I was beginning to feel quite comfortable until
I felt a tiny bite, which immediately made me elevate myself (or at least my lower halt).
Others were starting to leave the water and head to the showers, so I followed
suit. The public bathrooms had roofless showers. I was pleasantly surprised by how
warm the showers were. Afterwards, I went to the payphone to call Ku'ulei and "check
in." In the darkness I could make out the figures ofother men who were also calling their
wives or girlfriends on their cell phones, and so I found myself immersed in another ritual
ofthe Hale Mua. After my call, I went back to the pavilion and fell asleep almost as soon
as I hit my cot.
167
Ha'uJe Lani
Friday morning came much sooner than I would have preferred as we were
awakened at 3:00 in the morning for the M'ule lani ceremony that honored all the kiipuna
that had passed. People groggily ate pastries and drank coffee, though we were wamed
not to drink too much or we would be in a "world ofhurt" on the heiau. Everyone got
dressed in "traditional" attire: malo and kInei (over the shoulder garment) made of a
rusty-reddish colored cotton material symbolic ofthe red 'alaea ochre used in salts, dyes,
medicines, and purification ceremonies. Kamika volunteered to "help" those who had
never tied a malo, and in so doing quickly expelled any shame that the newcomers might
have felt by "rocking their world" with a good hard tug. We also wore kama'a; though
all ofthe older members had made theirs from the bark ofthe han tree, most ofthe newer
members, who had not taken part in that project, ended up purchasing a somewhat similar
rope slipper at Birkenstock (and indeed many ofthe older members were starting to go
the modem German-Hawaiian route as well).
Once we were dressed, we made our way to the heiau by torchlight. We
assembled on the papa (flats) below the heiau with the other Nii. Koa group, Nii. Wa'a
Lalani Kahuna, the Papa Ali'i, Aunty Thelma and the Maui women, and a few other
smaller groups whom I was unfamiliar with. Standing on the trail above us, Sam Ka'ai
blew the pii that signaled the beginning ofthe ceremony. John Lake chanted from atop
Pu'ukoholii., which itself was ringed with burning torches. The men alI proceeded up to
the top while the women (between thirty and fifty) moved to Mailekini heiau.
8
When the men approached the heiau, we were required to take off our footwear if
we had any (and most people had some because ofthe many thorns on the ground). Once
on the heiau, the kiihuna led the chants and ritual burning ofleaves in remembrance of all
those that had gone before us to lay the foundation upon which we sat, both literally and
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metaphorically. The flickering light ofthe burning leaves cast shadows that took the
fonn of the ancestral spirits being called upon. The smoke from the fire filled our nostrils
and entered our lungs as we raised our voices in chant, "Eia kou mano, hele 'oe, ke hele
nei 'oe, hele loa" (here are your descendants, you go, you are going, gone forever). The
women's voices from below sang out through the darkness as they perfonned their own
chants and prayers for the ancestors.
When the last of the bundles had turned to ash, those individuals who were new to
the heiau stood up and introduced themselves to the men. The Kahuna Nui spoke at
length about why we corne, and what it means to our ancestors and to us to be here. He
conducted his speech in Hawaiian and then switched to English for those who did not
understand (probably the majority). Others too shared their mana'o (thoughts, ideas) and
reflected on the year that had passed and what they saw as the upcoming challenges of
the new year. As po became ao, visages that revealed little more than eyes reflecting
flame slowly became more discernable until finally the early morning gray colored
everyone's face. I estimated about 100-150 men participating, most ofthem between
thirty and sixty (though a number ofyounger and older men were also present). The
kiihuna ofNa Wa'a Lalani were all a bit younger, ranging from mid-twenty to mid-thirty
(except for John Lake and one other elder kiihuna). Just before sunrise, we all stood up
and chanted "E Ala E," a mele that awoke the sun in the east.
With this completed, we all went back to our different camps to eat, change (most
ofus into our pa'ii), and talk story while we got ready for the workshops. In talking with
others, I found that women were not allowed on Pu'ukoholii because it was a luakini
(sacrificial heiau); indeed, during its construction, women were strictly forbidden from
work since it was men that were offered as sacrifices. Mailekini was also a luakini, but
the Papa Kiinaka designated it a hale 0 Papa (a women's heiau) in 1996 in order to
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provide the women with their own place. I thought that was a neat idea and was intrigued
to learn more about what they did there.
Some of the guys who had never participated in Hawaiian ritual before spoke of
the morning ceremonies with mixed feelings of awe, reverence, and surrealism. The
sight ofthe torches burning on the top of the heiau in the dark and the sounds of the
chants evoked strong connections with the sacred and the ancient, all of which were
learned and practiced through embodied experience and action. I had experienced similar
feelings in 1992 when I participated in my first 'Oiwi rituals at the Taputapuatea in
Ra'iatea, and so I was fully aware ofhow transformative such practices were, a point
emphasized by Turner (1969). For me, and perhaps for others who had been a part of
that ceremony before, it was about forming and maintaining links with the ancestors we
called, the land we were conducting the rituals on, and the community ofKanaka that we
were participating with. I did not have much time to ponder these thoughts though
before people started making their way up to the visitor's center for the next set of
activities.
Workshops
A number of different participants and special guests convened workshops on the
lawn outside ofthe park's visitor information center. People covered such topics as .
ho'oikaika kino (strengthening the body), lua, 'olelo Hawai'i (Hawaiian language), oli
(chant), hula, ethnobotany, and cultural protocol. I attended the two lua workshops and
learned how to fold someone's back in two and how to dislocate a knee, skills that I
thought might serve me well in the academy. There were separate lua workshops for the
men and the women, and when I looked over at the women's side I was a bit surprised
that there weren't more than the five or so women who had signed up for Kyle's class.
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Looking on the other side ofthe lawn, I saw where the majority ofthe women gravitated
to-hula. I was actually quite interested in dancing as well, but my desire to learn lua
won out in the end.
Along with the core participants, a number oflocals and tourists also took part in
the workshops. The workshops provided one ofthe few opportunities for the various
groups gathered at Pu'ukohoHi to intermingle and socialize. After the second workshop,
1ran into a friend ofmine who had come with her father, an elder much respected as an
educator in the Hawaiian community. We spoke for a while and she asked me what I
thought about the weekend so far. 1 said that 1 had not had much of an opportunity to
form an opinion, but so far it seemed to be "pretty good" and "interesting" (code words
for "I dunno, what do you think?"). She said that she thought it was an important place
for Hawaiians to come to learn and practice their culture, but that there was too much
pageantry involved. We talked a little more and then parted ways as people began
dispersing.
Mtemoon 'Awa Ceremony
After our workshops finished, we returned to the pavilion, ate, and rested for a
few hours. Some people went swimming, others took a nap, and others talked story and
got to know a new face. At four o'clock, the first-timers assembled in traditional attire at
the visitor center lawn for an 'awa ceremony that was the event most closely resembling
a formal initiation into the Pu'ukoholii community for the novices. Sennit cordage
marked the pararneters ofthe rectangular area to be used for the ceremony, and easy-up
tents shaded the lauhala mats that we would be sitting on. These practices index
boundaries that are both spatial and cosmological. Each party entered only after giving
an oli kahea (chant calling out for entrance) that was in turn reciprocated by an oli komo
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(chant allowing entrance). The Kahuna Nui and Na Wa'a Lalani took charge ofthe
entrance protocol, often times sending one oftheir own to act as a proxy for a group that
did not have their own chanter. Kamana'opono chanted for Na Koa 0 ka Hale Mua, and
about ten of us (five of whom had just joined us at Pu'ukohoIa) made our way to the
makai (seaward) tent and mats.
After all the groups had been chanted in, Kumu Lake called on Ke'eaumoku's
men to begin the ceremony. About eight oftheir koa comprised the crew: three servers,
one rinser, one handler of the water and strainer, one kahu (attendant) of the bowl, Mele
Pang (myoId language teacher) was their orator, and Ke'eaumoku stood in tbe back as
their leader. Mele called for the water, which was brought from outside the square. After
the chant associated with the water was fmished, Mele called for the 'awa, which was
also brought in from without. Another chant followed, and upon its completion Na Koa
Kau i ka Meheu 0 Na Kupuna began serving the 'awa.
Individual servers carried the 'apu (cups) above their heads and often duck 
walked much ofthe way. Some individuals even went down on their knees when
approaching the recipient ofthe 'apu, who identified his/herself by clapping once. After
the person drank finished the 'apu, s/he threw it back to the server and Mele called out
"Pa'i ka lima!" (clap the hands), and everyone clapped three·times. While the 'awa was
being served, some ofthe "old-timers" like John Lake, Kyle Nliklinelua, and Kapono'ai
Molitau (Kahuna Pule or prayer specialist) were asked to share why they came to
Pu'ukohola. Some spoke of the significance ofthe fust event in 1991 and that this was
the answer posed to the Maori who asked where our meeting place was. Others spoke
about personal kuleana as a Hawaiian and the responsibilities to bring life to this site.
Importantly, all of the discourse took place through the 'Nelo Hawai'i, and so those who
did not understand the language were forced to ask people later what went on. Ritual
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leaders thus were able to convey an important meta-message even for the non-speakers:
we are Maoli and we are recovering our 'Olelo. Even with my moderate language
faculties, I missed a good deal of what transpired and had to double check with others
more fluent than me.
One ofthe things that impressed me the most was the capabilities of the chanters
ofNa Wa'a: Lalani. To learn the language in the classroom (like I had) was one thing, but
to put it in practice in actual situations that demanded not only a strong command of
'oIelo butalso deep knowledge ofmo'ole1o and mo'okii'auhau (genealogies) was truly
impressive. When they exhausted the chants that they had memorized, they were able to
hear the message being conveyed in the requestor's mele and respond by referencing the
images and events just spoken of and then expand with new twists ofmeaning through
the expert word play that was so valued by the kfipuna. Ofcourse this was a relatively
short part ofthe ceremony, and one that undoubtedly flew over most people's heads, but I
found it to be absolutely astonishing. This public enactment through discourse and bodily
perfonnance presented an important new model and hope for the broader project of
recovering and renewing 'Oiwi cultural practices.
'Aikapu
That afternoon, the men from Nil Koa Kaui ka Meheu 0 Na Kiipuna and other
organizations of Nil Papa Kanaka came to the pavilion. One ofthe men from outside
chanted an oli klihea and we assembled while Kamana'opono gave the oli komo to invite
the guests in. This ritual discursively marked the time as sacred and separate from other
activities we had been conducting there up until this point. I soon found out that this was
to be our ceremonial 'aikapu, a sacred eating in which the men were invited into our Hale
Mua to partake in ritual foods and to meet one another before the main ceremonies the
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following day. Kyle and the other alaka'i produced pa'i 'ai (pounded taro before it is
watered down and mixed into poi), aku (tuna), a'u (marlin), laulau pua'a (pig and taro
leaf bundles), 'uala (sweet potato), 'ulu (breadfruit), and other kinolau of the akua kane.
As in all other ritual gatherings, we began with pule and spoke about some ofthe
important things to reflect on over the meal: our goals for tomorrow, a refocusing and
recentering of our beings in this time and place, and the fellowship we should enjoy as
Hawaiian men gathered in pule and 'aina. I sat across from some of the guys in
Ke'eaumoku's crew, and spoke a little but not much. I did not feel that I knew enough
about what was going on to say anything, and was trying to figure out things as I went. I
did however appreciate the food.
After dinner, we went to the parking lot and practiced ourroutine for the next day.
When we finished, we went to the water to hi'uwai and then showered at the showers.
We later settled down in our cots and allowed darkness to descend.
'Aha Ho'ola'a Ali'i
We awoke at 4:00 AM on Saturday morning and put on our malo and kama'a, no
kihei today. We secured our pahoa ibu a'u under our malo near the small ofthe back,
and we marched in two lines to the heiau. The stars shone down through the cloudless
sky with such clarity that I could not help but ponder how ancestors once gazed at those
same stars in their own journeys ofdiscovery. We arrived at the papa ofthe heiau first
among the participating groups (another case of"hurry up, and wait"). Torches stood at
intervals along the outer perimeter ofthe heiau above us as well as on the comers ofthe
papa below. Kyle put on the black and brown mahiole and the red and yellow 'abu that
designated his status as a kaukau ali'i, a'lesser chief who is makaukau (ready) to serve!
It was due to this status and Kyle's desire to be a leader on the field that he had us
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assemble on the papa rather than come down with the procession of ali'i from the top of
the heiau. We formed our kahului and did our own chants: He Mii, E Ho Mai, and Na
'Aumiikua. Having focused mentally and spiritually, we stood insilence and awaited the
assembly and the ceremonies.
As the hues of gray and light blue began to color the land, a procession ofwomen
came around the bottom of the heiau. A large group ofthese women, some ofwhom
were from the Maui group and others from Na Koa Kau i ka Meheu 0 Na Kiipuna of
O'ahu, stood near lauhala (pandanus leaf) mats under a kiawe (thorny foreign tree) on a
small knoll directly to the left ofus. The other women, who appeared to be members of
one or two hiilau hula, stood next to them in silence.
Sometime after 6:30, the temple pahu (drum) and the pii ofSam Ka'ai sounded to
begin the procession. Kahuna Nui John Lake stood at the top of the heiau with two
others and began to chant. The white-clad Na Wa'a Lalani descended first, chanting as
they carried their kahili and wore their yellow lei po'o. Kapono'ai Molitau, the Kahuna
Pule (prayer specialist), untied the cord connecting the two piilo'ulo'u standing at the
bottom of the path. The four male chanters stood at the very base ofthe lele while the
women congregated on a flat area immediately adjacent. Next the AIoali'i began to
descend from the back of the heiau, beginning with the least ranking and ending with
Papa'Akau, the AIi'i Nui of the ceremonies. Na Papa Kanaka, the Pu'ukohola Heiau
Park officials, the Waimea Hawaiian Civic Club had advertised the ceremonies in the
local papers and on the internet as an event open to the public and held in conjunction
with the cultural festival at Pelekane (see below). By seven o'clock, which was the
advertised starting time, between fifty and one hundred spectators had gathered behind
rope-boundaries (marking offthe sacred space from the profane) to watch the
ceremonies.
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With everyone assembled, the Kahuna Pule called for the ho'okupu, the gifts that
would make the mana of the akua, chiefs, land, and people grow. Each group chanted
before presenting, and continued once the Kahuna Pule responded with his own chant.
The two hiilau perfonned their dances and received chants ofmahalo in return. A group
of women I was unfamiliar with and Na Wahine 0 Kauhiakama (The Women of
Kauhiakama [an ali'i of Maui)) successively presented chants and physical offerings of
food that were placed in baskets or wrapped in bundles.
After the women had completed their ho'okupu, the energy level in our group
jumped visibly. Kyle started shifting the dirt with his bare feet, almost as if to imitate a
rooster. Others began rolling their necks, stretching their chests, or grunting under their
breath. The time was on us, and I suddenly felt my stomach turning as I desperately tried
to remember the two sets we would be perfonning for our ho'okupu. After some minor
delays, the Kahuna Pule called on us to come forth. Kamana'opono chanted the Mele a
Kahakuikamoana, a ko'ihonua that spoke ofthe creation ofthe islands and their polities.
Elama followed with Hiiluapo Wailuku, a chant that spoke ofthe slaughter ofHawai'i
Island invaders by the Maui defenders.
When the chant ended, Kyle spoke a command and we turned in a triangular
fonnation to face the ali'i to the right ofus. He shouted "E hume i ka malo!" (Gird your
loincloth!), and we responded "E ho'okala i ke a'u" (Sharpen the swordfish bill). He
then called out the lines to Ke Kaua Mau 'Ai, a prayer to the god Ku'ialua. We executed
strikes with our pahoa ihu a'u and stepped forward in unison, perfonning through our
movements the words that would bring mana to the akua, the land, and ourselves. At the
end of our set, five members of our group stepped forward to present the other ali'i with
pahoa ihu a'u that we had crafted.
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Figure 40. Hale Mua prepared for Ke Kaua Mau 'Ai, 1999.
Photo courtesy of Elama Farm
Figure 41. Hale Mua dancing Moloka'i Ku'i, 1999
Photo courtesy ofElama Farm
177
After these were accepted, we regrouped into lines and perfonned the hula
Moloka'i Ku'i. "Aia Moloka'i ku'u 'iwa," Kyle called out; "I ka la'i wale 0 Kalaupapa,"
we responded.
lO
Our feet stomped the ground as we swung our pahoa fIrst to the left,
and then to the right. The adrenaline (or something else perhaps) rushed through my
body as the very air around us crackled with electricity. For the briefest ofmoments, we
created a physical and spiritual space that was neither here nor there. We became the
'iwa (frigate) birds soaring in the calm ofMoloka'i and the a'u (swordfIsh) leaping in the
ocean. When we fInished, we stood there sweating, panting, and hardly recognizing our
surroundings. Kyle issued a fInal command that released us from our stance and brought
us back to the plains ofPu'ukohoHi.
Though participants in the ceremony do not usually applaud or clap, individuals
ofdifferent contingents expressed appreciation by pounding of the ground and vocalizing
brief shouts. The Kahuna Pule chanted in acknowledgement and appreciation of our
offering and presentation that brought such energy to the heiau. When the final ho'okupu
were accepted from other groups, the Ho'ola'a Ali'i ceremony ended with the procession
ofparticipants back to the visitors' center. The men walked up the main trail that went
past the heiau and the women took the lower path that was farther removed from the
heiau and went around the opposite side. As we made our way up the trail, I know I
probably should have been thinking about something more profound, but instead all I
could think about was how easily gravel got into my Birkenstock sandals. Perhaps next
year I would make my own.
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'Awa Maika'j
Everyone was in high spirits up at the visitor's center as we all thirstily drank the
water put out for us and found shade under the eaves ofthe building and the easy-up tents
set up on the lawn. We met and exchanged honi with Ke'eaumoku and Nli Koa Kau i ka
Meheu 0 Nli Kilpuna, and Kyle asked them ifthey were ready for some 'awa maika'i, or
"good 'awa." My ears perked up at the sound of 'awa, which I had assumed we would
only be drinking (sparingly) in the ceremonies. I had become quite accustomed to the
"Polynesian drink" that relaxed the muscles, mind, and (unfortunately) bowels. I found
that one usually does not drink much in formal ceremonies; but in the more informal
gatherings, it was all about the 'ona ("buzz"). Ofcourse, this was all very "culturally
appropriate," so I had no qualms whatsoever about engaging in more 'awa drinking.
Soon all of Nli Koa seated themselves on lauhala mats under a tent and our 'awa
crew got to work mixing and serving the 'awa. Upon receiving the first 'apu, each
individual shared his thoughts about his experiences that day. Those who had been to
Pu'ukoholli before were especially anxious to hear what the new participants had to
share, and when I received my 'apu, Sam Ka'ai exclaimed "Mo'olelo! Mo'olelo!" I
spoke in Hawaiian about my feelings when we were on the papa doing Ke Kaua Mau Ai
and Moloka'i Ku'i. I also spoke ofhow good it felt to be here fmally after I had missed
last year's event. I talked, and I talked, and soon I found that I was speaking words that
were not my own. The thoughts and words were flowing up from the ground, through
my na'au, and gushing forth from my tongue in a way that I had never experienced
before. My competency with Hawaiian language was good at the conversational level,
but it was not until that day that I spoken with such ease; I believe it was because I was
not the individual speaking. When the mo'olelo fmally ceased, I drank down my 'apu
and tossed it back to the server as a voice rang out "pa'i ka lima!"
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Everyone spoke, and eventually after all had shared their mo'olelo, we just drank
informally and relaxed in the shade ofthe tent. I was still a bit dazed by what had come
over me, but at the same time I was thankful that I was given that experience. My
grandmother told me that her great-grandfather was a German (or Dutch, or English, or
"some kind of European") sailor who came to Kohala and eventually married a beautiful
Hawaiian woman. They moved to Hana, Maui, where their children married into the
local families. I wondered ifany ofthose Kohala ancestors had identified me as their
mo'opuna (grandchild) and decided to pay me a visit. I know it certainly wasn't the 'awa
talking, because it wasn't until about five bowls later that I started to feel '''awalicious.''
And while the stories do indeed flow fast and furious once I am at that stage, the
mo'olelo that came from me earlier were categorically different than the numb-tongued
babble when I'm "not all there." Maybe it was the heat, or maybe it was those darn rocks
in my sandals. I doubted it, and so I cherished the moment and said a silent prayer of
aloha and mahalo.
Pu 'ukoholii Cultural Festival
Once we finally got motivated to find some lunch, we all piled into the vans and
drove down to Pelekane, the site of a former residence of King Kamehameha and ofthe
modem day Pu'ukoholii Cultural Festival put on by the park, the Waimea Civic Club, and
a few other organizations. Though held in conjunction with the ceremonies, the festival
was a separate event. Indeed, the initial tensions I laid out in the last chapter with not
wanting to be a pageant continued to arise as the older event sponsored by the Civic Club
and the Park proceeded as it had done so before. Organizers of the cultural festival
wanted our ceremony to start later in the morning so that more visitors would come, but
Nii Papa Kanaka resisted and thus started it early; this was due to both a conscious
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distancing from touristic modes of performance and a more practical concern with the
heat ofthe mid-morning SUD.
Yet the connection between the two activities persisted, especially since many of
the organizers were involved in the planning ofboth the heiau ceremonies and the
festival. We walked around and visited the free workshops in carving drums, playing the
ipu (gourd), and sailing on a double-hulled canoe. Some vendors sold books, tee-shirts,
andjeweiry. Other groups offered samples of Hawaiian foods and 'awa. Not
surprisingly, we ended up in these two lines. The civic club prepared a free lunch of stew
and rice, and we all had a plate. Some ofthe men stayed and took part in the workshops
and waited to go sailing on the canoe. I was quite drained at that point and so walked
back to the pavilion with some ofthe others who were ready to go.
Like every other day of the event, the sky was clear and the sun beat down
mercilessly. By the time we reached the pavilion, we needed to take a dip in the ocean.
Though not as cold as I would have liked, the waters ofKawaihae cooled me down
considerably. I swam a bit and watched the local families who were camped out on the
beach. Eventually I came out of the water, showered off, and returned to my cot in the
pavilion for a nap before the evening 'awa ceremony.
International 'Awa Ceremony
At about 3:00 we all went up to the lawn to set up for the International'Awa
Ceremony, the last formal ceremony ofthe weekend. We laid out the mats and set up the
rope perimeter around the square in which the ceremonies would take place. Our 'awa
crew was comprised of about eight guys, four attendants ofthe kanoa (bowl) and four
servers. The first four comprised of one kahn, one rinser of 'apu, one general helper, one
kakii'olelo. The rest ofthe men acted as kia'i and stood outside of the square and insured
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that everything ran smoothly, whether it be through providing water to participants within
the square or stopping spectators from taking pictures from without. Because I was the
youngest member, I was selected to be a server.
As the start time of4:00 quickly approached, we all put on the appropriate attire:
the kia'i wore pa'u around their waists and the 'awa crew wore only their malo. Soon all
parties were present, and Kumu Lake began chanting and entered with Na Wa'a Lalani
Kahuna. They were followed by the other contingents ofNa Koa, the Aloali'i, and Na
Wahine. When they had all found their places, the malihini were chanted in. These
included members ofthe Royal Order of Kamehameha, representatives of the park,
officials from the Army, and some other guests who had joined us that night.
Kumu Lake directed everyone to be seated and then allowed us to proceed with
the ceremony. Pili (the kahu of the kanoa) called for ka wai a Kane, the water ofKane
(literally "Male," the god oflife). One ofthe servers entered the square and carried a
large wooden calabash that was filled with water. Kamana'opono (our kaka'olelo)
chanted the mele Ka Wai Ola a Kane, a song that poetically named the various places that
fresh water could be found. Once the water was poured into the bowl and the mele was
completed, Pili called for the 'awa of Kane. Another server came in with a smaller
calabash that held the 'awa roots that we had cleaned and pounded on Thursday
afternoon. Karnana'opono led a group chant that spoke ofKahiki, the far-off lands where
the 'awa was planted and grew to maturity. Pili proceeded to mix the 'awa with water
and strain it with the bundle ofhau fibers that caught all the dredge. After the straining
finished, Kamana'opono led one more chant for the drinking of 'awa and the health ofall
the people gathered there. With that we proceeded to serve those present, acknowledging
the lesser chiefs, the malihini, the 'Elemakua, the Kahuna, and [mally Papa 'Akau who
was esteemed above all others. When he finished, he placed his cup on the ground and
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signaled the end ofthe kapu. Kamana'opono gave one last chant and the bowl was noa.
The weekend had gone well, and now it was time to have some fun.
'Aha 'AiDa
After the bowl was freed, Kumu Lake directed people to begin lining up for the
food that had been prepared for us by the park staff and other local families tied to the
event. Servers put pua'a kaIua (pig roasted in the underground oven), fried fish, 'uala,
poke (seasoned, cubed raw fish), and poi on coconut leaf plates that were woven by
participants on Thursday afternoon. The scents ofhot food wafted through the air, and
my stomach responded with, "Urrgggh Urr." Yet that would have to wait because most
of the people sitting down were calling for 'awa.
Each ofthe servers took responsibility for serving one section ofpeople. I had
one ofthe AloaIi'i, though I don't remember which one. What I do remember is that they
were quite thirsty, and I very rarely had a break in shuttling them the "Pacific liquor."
The lifting ofthe kapu meant that outrageous acts ofrepetitive clapping for an 'apu went
uncensured. Some ofthe koa from a particular AloaH'i apparently did not understand
what "noa" meant and thus continued to point their spears and make generally
threatening noises when servers brought them 'awa. Tensions mounted as one of our
head servers defiantly stood in a manner that would have been completely disrespectful if
the ceremony was still kapu, and even had a few sharp words with the koa that did not
seem to get the picture.
Fortunately, other groups were more festive and sought to enliven the night with
more positive mana. John Lake's dancers and chanters performed a number of mele that
were well received. One ofthem spoke of the bravery of Nli Koa at a previous year's
ceremony where some sort ofelemental danger (fire or wind or both) was overcome with
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calmness by the members ofNa Koa who were threatened by it. Both men and women
performed the chant, which was an important reminder for me that Ke'eaumoku's crew
did indeed have women.
After the dancers finished, Na Koa Kau i ka Meheu 0 Na Kiipuna arose and
formed rows in the center ofthe square. There they performed a ha'a that was directed as
a challenge to us. Fortunately, we had anticipated this and prepared one of our own for
just such an occasion. Once they had finished and the applause had died down, we stood
ready with pahoa ihu a'u and got into our triangular formation. Kyle called out
"Maha'ii!" After a pause, we pronounced ourselves as the tall standing cliffs of
Kaliuwa'a (O'ahu) and began our ha'a in honor of Kamapua'a, the pig-god/chief ofthe
aforementioned region. We grunted and bentdown like the boar rooting into the land,
executing moves that depicted the snapping of an enemy's neckand a stabbing through
the back (again, invaluable skills for an academic). The audience roared in applause, and
we knew that we had made a good showing that night. Na Koa 0 O'ahu just smiled and
conceded for the time being, though we were sure that next year they would be ready
with something new. The competitive exchange was spontaneous, but important for the
enactment of masculinity based on ritual challenges and displays of strength, both
cultural and physical.
The night progressed with more singing and serving of 'awa. Some ofthe kia'i
who had finished eating eventually came to relieve the servers so that we could get some
dinner. The uncles and aunties piled on the food, and I was shocked when I found myself
filled after just one serving of such 'ono (delicious) food. After the masses finally
depleted the 'awa and satisfied their stomachs, we intermingled for a bit with one
another. I was quite surprised that this was the first time we really had to mingle with
others outside ofour group since the workshops, but utilized the time to its fullest by
184
finding my friends from UH who had come with John Lake. After talking story for a
while and listening to some ofthe people play music and sing, I made my way back down
to the pavilion with some others and changed out of my malo into something a bit-more
colonized-the trusty shorts, tee shirts, and rubber slippers.
Pa'ina
Back at the ranch, people were buzzing with excitement as the final kapu had
been lifted and we could now purchase the modem day'awa of beer. The re-entry into
normal social life had begun. The beer-runners took up collections and went to the local
convenience store in Kawaihae. The Pavilion became "party central" as both men and
women trafficked in and out of what used to be our sleeping area. Although most people
were drinking beer, some mixed the 'awa that we had saved for the late-night activities.
In no time, Rick Bissen had an 'ukulele in hand and began singing some great classics,
both Hawaiian and Classic Rock. People who were partying outside in other campsites
followed the melodies that Rick sent out on the wind, and soon the pavilion was teeming
with people. Likewise, many ofus ventured to other camps to see what was going on
with others. It was the perfect end to a weekend full of such intense spiritual activity and
ceremonial restrictions. We had gone through a great deal together, and we pulled
through as a group that was made closer by these shared experiences and feelings. Ten
o'clock eventually became four, and soon there were only a few people left singing. I
could push on no longer so decided it was time to reclaim the cot and sink into darkness.
I fell asleep to the verses of Kahakuloa, a song that spoke of a small taro farming and
fishing village of Maui adorned in the lehua blossoms.
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Sunday Departure
Bleary-eyed and not willing to give up sleep without a fight, we awoke to the
sounds ofthe "early-birds" breaking down their cots and packing up their luggage.
Eventually everyone was packing up and cleaning the pavilion. The kitchen crew was
busy cooking some eggs and reheating all of the leftovers. Though I would normally
jump at the chance to eat, the smell of oil and meat sent my not-so settled stomach into
cartwheels. Another party, another hangover.
Kyle called us all together for one last meeting before we went our separate ways
(some had to leave earlier than others). He displayed the "trophies" of the weekend that
were given to us as tokens ofappreciation: a piece of 'a'ali'i (a native hardwood), a shark
hook, and a Kaua'i-style pahoa. Kyle also presented Sam's guests Greg and Roger with
ihu a'u (swordfish bills) oftheir own 10 shape into pahoa that would best suit them. He
wished them luck on their journeys back to Oregon and invited them to come back with
us any time they could.
Kyle asked anyone ifthey had anything to share with the group. One of the first 
timers expressed his realization that now he had a responsibility to share his experience
with his children, family, and friends in order to "water the seed" that had been planted.
Martin, an old-timer, regretted that he could not bring anyone new into the group this
year; he was always "recruiting," but some people got scared away. Yet for him, the
camaraderie he felt at Pu'ukohoHi was something that he only felt while he was in the
military, and he wished everyone the best ofspeed in their journeys. Puhi, a Maori man
who just joined our group this year (and in part led Kyle to revise the Hawaiians-only
rule), thanked everyone for allowing him "to be a part ofthis 'ohana (family)." He
vowed to take it back to his own 'ohana and teach his young boy who had just entered the
Hawaiian language immersion program. Greg said that despite his earlier apprehensions
186
of staying with a group of men he didn't know, the hospitality and welcome he felt
convinced him to take our "water" back to Oregon. He got "chicken-skin" as he revealed
that he had only felt like this when he stood with his 'ohana, and although he had been
coming back to Hawai'i for twenty-five years, this was the first time he felt like he came
"home." Following Greg, Roger expressed his admiration for what we were doing and
promised that the two of them would "do everything, and then some, to not only spread
the word, but make it back here." Kamika showed a rare moment of seriousness and
asked that we remember those in the group who could not make it this year.
Kyle ended by recalling his experiences in the military and in the fire department
where he was a part of a team that relied on one another in life and death situations.
Bringing it back to the Hale Mua, he had this to say:
As far as teams go, I've nevah been on a better team befoah. As far as
cohesiveness, discipline, strength; I've nevah been wit' a more diversified team,
or poweIfuI team than this. Urn, this is the HaIe, the HaIe Mua. Urn, the Hale
Mua is not just a building; it is a concept, an ideal. The Hale Mua is heah
(extending arms out to point to all ofus). The Hale Mua is heah (touching his
head with two hands). The Hale Mua is heah (touching his stomach with two
hands). So, you can all remembah dat no mattah where you go, no mattah when
you can come back, and when we can all be togedah again, just remembah: you
always have a place in da Hale Mua.
With that said we all exchanged honi one last time and said our goodbyes to those who
had to leave early. Eventually the majority of the group made it back to Kona town and
caught our afternoon flights home, thus ending our stay at the mound ofthe whale.
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On not being a pageant
Over the years, the mo'olelo of Pu'ukohola has increasingly circulated in public
forums and has offered Kanaka new ways of imagining their collective identities and
shared histories. Desha's story of KekUhaupi' 0 and Kamehameha was published in
English in 2000. Along with the new account and interpretation of Pu'ukohola (as
"desire in the lagoon") that I described in chapter 3, the book's first two pages lays out an
1855 watercolor painting of the heiau (Desha 2000). Likewise, the Hawaiian language
texts of Desha and Kamakau were reprinted in 1996, the latter including a black and
white modern photo of the staircase leading up to the heiau platform (Kamakau 1996:xx).
With the revitalization of the Hawaiian language and the republication of Desha's
narrative, in both Hawaiian (1996) and English (2000), a broader audience now has
access to the newlold insights ofPeleioholani, Poepoe, and Desha.)I
Figure 42. Image from calendar. Na Koa Walking down from the top
of Pu'ukohola Heiau, 1997. Courtesy of Elama Farm.
188
Though comparatively little coverage ofthe annual ceremonies at Pu'ukohoIa
made it into the newspapers outside of Hawai'i Island, an occasional story or
announcement would grace the pages of Ka Wai ala 0 aHA, Honolulu Advertiser, and
Honolulu Star-Bulletin ("Cultural festival" 2001; "It's festival" 1998; Tsutsumi 2001).
The 1998 film Ho'oku'ikahibecame very popular and was featured in various film
festivals and seminars. Images of the ceremonies also appeared in mainstream calendars
and on postcards, with one calendar produced by the heiau that completely featured the
ceremonies.
On Maui, the Hale Mua had become stock characters in the various festivals and
cultural events on the island, especially the East Maui Taro Festival and the Ritz-Carlton
Celebration of Arts. Pictures ofthe Hale Mua also appeared in Maui's cultural calendars
and posters for the Taro Festival. As a number of Hale Mua members had children in the
Hawaiian language immersion programs, the Hale Mua began to assist with cultural
activities and presentations in the schools. Sally-Jo KealaoanuenueBowman wrote a
beautiful essay entitled "Reluctant Kahuna" in the popular monthly magazine Honolulu
that provided a partial biography of Sam Ka'ai, spoke ofhis involvement with
Pu'ukoholli and the Hale Mua, and included some of the nicest photos I have seen of Sam
and Nli Koa at the 1991 Ho'oku'ikahi event (Bowman 2000). Participation in the 1998
annexation march (chapter 2) and the Ku'e 'Blua March of 2001 (described in the first
chapter) were important public showings ofthe Hale Mua, even ifthey were still referred
to as Nli Koa (Gordon and Chantavy 1998; "Hawai'i Loa" 1998; "Images" n.d.; Kana'e
2001; Nicolas 2001). It is also important to contextualize the discursive production of the
Hale Mua within the larger proliferation of mo'olelo koa that were produced in
newspapers and magazines featuring articles about lua and Ke'eaurnoku Kapu's Nli Koa
groups.'2 The prevalence of lua especially in public discourse, as well as the Hale Mua's
189
fonner associations with the pa,lead people to assume that we were "the lua guys,"
though most members of the Mua argued that was never the case.
Figure 43. Ritz-Carlton Panel, March 29,2002. From left: Dan Kaniho,
Daniel Kawai'ae'a, Kapono'ai Molitau, Sam Gon, Kehau Kruse,
Ke'eaumoku Kapu, Kyle Nakanelua. Photo by author.
The one relation that did persist was that of the Mua to the Pu'ukohoIa
ceremonies. An interesting panel presentation entitled "Pu'ukohola...Beyond the
Pageantry" took place at the 2002 Celebration of Arts in Kapalua. After a showing of
Ho'oku 'ikahi, seven of the younger Pu'ukohoHi leaders (between their thirties and fifties)
spoke about their experiences and addressed (some more directly than others) the yet
unresolved tension of "not being a pageant" that had arisen during the planning of the
1991 commemoration.
190
Dan Kaniho, a member of the Papa Kanaka organizational board and the
kiilaimoku ("shaper of earth"/high counselor), described growing up in Waimea, Hawai'i
and not knowing anything about the heiau. Moreover, his professional life took him
away from Hawai'i and further alienated him from his history and culture. Yet when he
went to the ceremonies, he felt his ancestors there and became proud to be Hawaiian. He
now was trying to play "catch-up," and it brought tears to his eyes to know that he lost
his Hawaiian identity. Despite all of that, his ancestors continued to bring him back to
Pu'ukoholii so that he could have the experience and reclaim his Kanaka ancestry.
Next spoke Daniel Kawai'ae'a, Jr., the park superintendent and son ofthe ali'i
Papa Kawai'ae'a. He fIrst noted how lucky he felt to be working as a National Park
Services (NPS) official whose job it was to protect the resources and preserve things for
the future generations. Yet as a Native Hawaiian, his frrst responsibilities were to the
Hawaiian people, and the mana ofPu'ukohola had profound effects on him as an
indigenous person. He described the current movements in the NPS to increase
partnerships with Native peoples, and offered that the Hawaiian community would have
an important say in what goes on with the park. He proclaimed that Pu'ukohola was the
only place where Kanaka Maoli conducted ceremonies in Hawaiian for the benefIt of
Hawaiian people first and haole people second; a traditional court assembly operates and
frmctions under strict protocol; people carrying traditional weapons knew how to use
them; and everyone got "a traditional Hawaiian experience." With the help of many
people, Pu'ukohola had "excelled to a level ofreatism far beyond pageantry."
An emotional Kapono'ai Molitau, the Kahuna Pule ofthe ceremonies, introduced
himself in Hawaiian and stated the question that always arose, "Why have I committed
myself to the next seven generations?" Looking out at the kiipuna, the makua, and the
keiki, he expressed that they were the reason he went back. He went to Pu'ukoholli to
191
work on his na'au so that he would instill the proper qualities and values onto those he
taught. He also returned because he "continues to strive to be a male, a Hawaiian male' of
this twenty-ftrst century; a Hawaiian male that has to balance between his professional"
and his "cultural" lives. Kapono'ai felt extremely grateful that his professional and
cultural lives coincided as a performer in "'Ulalena," a theatrical presentation of the
journeys ofthe Kiinaka 'Qiwi. Yet even despite his good fortune, he still felt like he
struggled to balance the Western ways with the Hawaiian ways. "How do you provide a
win-win situation when you are a man ofthe twenty-fust century and you need to provide
for your family, but also you are indebted to your roots and you know what is pono?"
For Kapono'ai, he worked in the Western society but was always able to put on a malo
and haku mele (compose songs/chants). Going to Pu'ukohola was "an identity" and "an
honor" that allowed him to attend the ftrst ceremonies as a haumana (student) and
eventually 'iiniki (graduate) as a kumu hula under Kumu Lake. He now felt that he was
ready to share with the younger generations and pass on all the knowledge that he was
given.
Sam Gon, a chanter for Kumu Lake and an ecologist, was the only non-Native
person on the panel. He opened with a greeting chant and expressed hisprofound love
and respect for the sanctity ofthe place. At that site, he saw the liihui living through the
language, chants, arts, skills and actions that conftrmed their continued persistence and
growth. He cut his speech short however in deference to the remaining speakers.
Kehau Kruse, the sole woman ofthe group, joked, "I tought I was gonna get
attack' by all dese men." When the audience stopped laughing, she explained that she
represented the women of Pu'ukoholaand that Mailekini was their heiau. She adamantly
denied the idea that Pu'ukohola was a pageant and instead related her experiences of
looking for "real Hawaiians." Her kumu, John Lake, made her understand what it meant
192
to be Hawaiian in today's world. Working in the visitors' industry as a cultural educator
at the Outrigger Hotel, she found that it was hard to "walk the line" because there were
certain things she was not willing to share. She continued to go to Pu'ukohola to
rejuvenate her spirit, to connect and honor her kiipuna through ritual and prayer, to
practice her culture, and to be a Hawaiian. Her experiences were real, even ifsome of
them were hard to believe; for instance, she saw the manti (sharks) circling at their
underwater heiau of Hale 0 Kapuni and the image of KU in the clouds. She found that
when she learned and practiced the rituals, they lived; thus her goal was to pass on these
feelings to the other women and the children. She did not want "our culture to be like,
only in books and museums, to be looked upon as who they were, what it used to be,
that's what it was back then." Instead, she wanted to be a part of turning it around, "This
is who we are. We're still here; we will continue to be here."
Ke'eaurnoku Kapu, now residing in Lahaina, stated that his job was to find
diligent young men and women, "infect them with my disease," and lead them like the
pied piper to the Pu'ukoholii. He then posited he was destined to be at that place because
his English name is Jonah, and the mound ofthe whale consumed him. After the
applause and laughter died down, Ke'eaurnoku shared that as a construction worker, he
built freeways and other structures that essentially destroyed the history and lands he
should have been protecting. Now he was working in Lahaina to restore cultural sites
and to repatriate bones that were unearthed in developments. He has also started a
second group ofNa Koa Kau i ka Meheu 0 Na KUpuna, the Warriors that Walk in the
Footsteps of Our Ancestors, and he hoped that he can be the bridge for them to connect to
the past. As a kankau ali'i ofPu 'ukoholii, he stated that, "My duties are to prepare the
men for battle, with my protege right next to me" (pointing at Kyle Nakanelua). He
explained that the two of them always ho'opapii (contest in wit and strength), guessing
193
what the other will do at Pu'ukohola each year and trying to be prepared. "It's a constant
thing ofho'opapa, trying to invoke that kini akua (multitude of deities), to please that
spirit; dat's da drive."
After a quick retort to the comment of "protege," Kyle Naklinelua gave his
genealogy that placed him in a succession of individuals who had rights and privileges to
stand on the heiau. He identified himself as a member ofthe Hale Mua, a group of men
who look at na mea Hawai'i (Hawaiian things) "with a masculine point ofview, things
that we believe males should be concerned about." One day the men's mo'opuna would
ask about Hawaiian things, and so the Hale Mua sought to provide masculine activities
such as making ihe from "traditional Hawaiian wood, with traditional Hawaiian thoughts;
blessing them with traditional Hawaiian rights, in a traditional Hawaiian way, at a
traditional Hawaiian place." Ideas received from Pu'ukohola inspired these practices,
and so the Hale Mua also provided opportunities for men to attend the yearly ceremonies
at Kawaihae. Pu'ukohoJa provided men a "Hawaiian experience," which was much more
than pageantry. When growing up, pageantryw~sthe reservoir of what Hawaiians had as
a people to maintain contact with the ancestors and to know who the modem Klinaka
were. Ifone went to Pu'ukohola just as a spectator, he would see the event as apageant;
however, if one were a participant, he would have the choice to look outside at the
spectators or to look inside at what he was doing and who he was. The only risk was that
some individuals look so deeply inside that when they go back to their daily liveS, they
"bum up on reentry."
As the panel members attested through their own personal mo'olelo, the ritual
process and embodied experiences ofPu'ukohola were deeply transformative. Their
yearly rededication at the Hill of the Whale reflected their spiritual commitment to "water
the seed" that was planted in each of them, a testament both to the existence ofcultural
194
politics in ritual and the potential for ritual in the larger realm of cultural nationalism and
decolonization.
Yet at the same time, a number of tensions persist. As the title of the panel
implied, older conceptions ofpageantry and inauthenticity remain, a commentary on the
entrenchment ofneocolonial ways of seeing that are produced by discourses oftourism
and domestication. Moreover, once the participants leave the sacred space of the ritual,
they are returned only to face the same colonial system that they left in order to
rejuvenate. Thus many of them feel that they have to "walk the line" and live in two
worlds that do not fit together nicely. Indeed, as Kyle pointed out, there is a "danger" of
"burning up on re-entry."
The [mal tension I note here is that ofgender. Kehau's joking comment "I tought
I was gonna get attack' by all dese men" speaks volumes to the gendered dynamics of
Pu'ukoholii. In consciously endeavoring to create a space for men to return to, the
organizers (or some of them) also produced a situation that felt threatening for the
women. Indeed, the ratio ofmen to women on the panel is not an over-exaggeration of
the gender ratio ofthe participants at the ceremonies itself; though I have never done a
survey, it seems that thereis about a 4: I ratio of men to women at Pu'ukoholii, at least
from what I have observed in the three years I attended. Kehau's wariness of being
"attacked" is a serious commentary on the type ofmasculinities being produced on the
heiau, especially by the Nii Koa groups. In channeling and ritually performing violence,
do men truly escape the older practices that harm women and children? And what of the
women who want to be Nii Koa? Though women certainly have a place at the heiau, is it
one premised on the recognition of male authority? From what I have observed on the·
heiau, women appear to play an important role in the chants and conducting of women's
ceremonies, but in the direction of the primary ceremonies on Saturday morning, their
195
role is secondary. Among Nii Koa, women in Ke'eaumoku's groups are a distinct
minority and are now excluded from the Hale Mua.
Thus a feminist critique ofthe overall dynamics of Pu'ukoholii, especially among
the Nii Koa groups and certainly with the Hale Mua, seems to reveal a clear structure of
patriarchy that disempowers women. Indeed, Kyle acknowledged this to a certain extent
during his presentation but argued that the Hale Mua was not trying to be "chauvinistic";
rather, they were striving to learn and perform those kuleana specific to men. He argued
that by learning kuleana in ritualized male spaces, Hawaiian men were transformed and
became better husbands, fathers, and members ofthe community. Thus the men ofthe
Hale Mua would be on the heiau at 4:00 AM the next morning praying for the new year
and a season of industry and productivity. It is this process of transformation that I
investigate in the next two chapters, for the issue of transformation is centrally what
decolonization is about, even if its cultural and gendered trajectories are anything but
certain.
ENDNOTES
J Established in the late 1800s by the will ofBernice Pauahi Bishop, the boys' and girls'
schools (later combined) effectively produced "industrious young men and women"; in
recent years though, numerous individuals have critically reappraised the ways in which
"success" meant/means assimilation ofAmerican virtues and beliefs. Arguably, the
school was not traditionally aimed at producing leaders, but rather vocational workers
and other non-political positions. As Clifford Alakai, a member ofthe Mua recalls, his
father forbade him from going to Karneharneha because all it produced was "entertainers,
firemen, and miihii's (effeminate and homosexual men)." Yet by the time I was a senior
in 1992-1993, the political and cultural climate was such that even a school renown for its
colonizing prowess was beginning to implement significant changes and allow a space
for counter-hegemonic discourse. Unfortunately, it is impossible to say what the future
holds as Kameharneha is forced to respond to the imperatives of a new generation of
196
Hawaiians while also maintaining "KS tradition." Newer threats to the school's tax 
exempt status have also prompted radical action, such as the acceptance of a non 
Hawaiian student on the Maui campus. Both of these have led to an even greater
elaboration ofthe already infuriating bureaucracy.
2 See Kawaharada (n.d.) for a detailed account of the voyage of the Hokiile 'a to Ra'iatea
and Rarotonga and the significance ofthe ceremonies on Taputapuatea. Finney (1999)
also speaks about the significance ofthe canoe's journey to there historically and in the
cultural nationalist movement.
3 For more information on the event, see articles written in the Honolulu Star-Bulletin the
first two weeks of August, especially those on the 12th and 13th (available at
http://starbulletin.com/98/08!mdex.html), and Manu Boyd's article in Ka Wai 01a 0
OHA(1998).
4 For more on the history ofthe Hawaiian Homes Commission Act of 1920 and the
creation of Hawaiian Homelands, and the subsequent economic, racial, and cultural
politics that have attended homesteading, see (Halualani 2002; Hasager 1997; Hasager
and Kelly 2001; Kauanui 1999; 2000; McGregor 1990).
5 For more information, see their website at
<http://www.celebrationofthearts.org!history1999.html>.
6 Four years later, I remember well my emotions and particular incidents, but many of the
details have faded. Luckily, Clifford Kapule Hashimoto, one ofthe older members ofour
group, videotaped the majority ofthe weekend's activities and assembled his footage into
a montage that he entitled "Hale Mua": Ka wa 0 na Koa 0 Maui (Hale Mua: the time of
na Koa of Maui). I also received a handout with the words to the prayers and the mission
statement in 1999, which was the same in 2001 when I returned for my second time.
Along with a better sense ofwhat was going on, I obtained in 2001 a schedule ofevents
from, which was quite similar to the order in 1999. Having the benefit of attending a
third weekend ofceremonies in 2002, I write this account ofPu'ukoholii from the
perspective ofmy first trip in 1999 but with additional knowledge gained from
subsequent trips.
1 Different people know John Lake by different names and titles. I first met him as
"Kurnu Lake," and I still call him that even though I have never actually taken a class
from him or have been a part ofhis hiiIau. He has certainly been a kurnu to me and
others at Pu'ukoholii, as well as a spiritual guide, and so I refer to him as both "Kumu
Lake" and "Kahuna Nui."
8 The women have been meeting separately on Mailekini since 1996; before that time
they would sit on the sides of Pu'ukohola but never set foot on the top ofthe heiau.
197
• See Young (1998) for an in-depth discussion of the role ofkaukau ali'i in 'Oiwi society.
Young writes, ''The formal relationship between the kaukai ali'i and an Ali'iNui was
based on the routine performance of hana lawelawe or 'service tasks.' The kaukau ali'i
cared for an Ali'iNui's children, were land stewards, and went into battle as warriors"
(xi).
10 Aia Moloka'i ku'u 'iwa, i ka la'i wale 0 Kalaupapa 'My frigate bird is at Moloka'i, in
the calm ofKalaupapa. '
11 The important exception is Edith Kawelohea McKinzie's M.A. thesis on Poepoe's
narrative ofThe Conqueror ofthe Nation. However, circulation of this was limited to
those who had access to the thesis and to those who read Hawaiian, for out of the entire
typescript of the Hawaiian serial. she only translated the installments from November 27,
1906 through December 9,1905. Even those who read Hawaiian must struggle with
understanding the level of Poepoe's discourse.
12 Articles on lua since 1997 include (but are not limited to) Harada (1997), Young
(1997), Fullard-Leo (1998), Cho (1999), Silva (1999a), Noyes (1999), Shirkey (2001).
and Sodetani (2003). The last is especially interesting because it focuses on Debbie
Niikanelua-Richards, Kyle Niikanelua's sister. Others also informed me that
Ke'eaumoku Kapu and Nii Koa Kau i ka Meheu 0 Nii Kiipuna appeared in a television
special for the Travel Channel that focused on Maui. Other television shows included
Art Scapes (Harrington, et al. 2000) and The Hawaiians (Grabsky. et al. 1998). The latter
was the segment that Nii Koa acted in as a part of the Ancient Warriors series on the
Discovery Channel. I saw this show on PBS as late as 200I, and presume that they still
show it on occasion.
198
CHAPTER 6
KA I MUA-CAST FORWARD/INTO THE MUA
Figure 44. Wehe Kii, Pihanakalani 2002. Photo courtesy of Sam Ka'ai
IfI make it off ofthis heiau alive, I swear that I will never return to it again. What
kind of fool wakes up at three in the morning to stand on a hill in the middle of a freaking
stonn wearing just a malo and a kihei?! Every muscle in my body is shivering beyond
control, every bone struggling to break free from the icy grip of death. Why are we doing
this? Twenty guys fighting wind, rain, and fatigue, only to greet the sun and drink some
'awa? You have got to be kidding me. Where's the camera? Okay, good joke, you got
me. Now let's go home!! No takers? Everybody is too busy going into hypothermia?
Damn.
199
Hey, check out the two Maori guys who joined us-they're getting "tribal" up
here, jumping up and down and shouting. I wish I could use traditions to keep warm.
They got it good. I know the other guys are thinking the same thing. But no, the Hale
Mua just stands and takes it. Like men. RARR!! brrrrrr. I just noticed now that we are
all suddenly standing shoulder to shoulder though we weren't doing so when we first got
here. Nothing like darkness and some arctic winds to disperse any inhibitions of men
getting close to one another.
It is a strange phenomenon, standing and praying (and freezing) on a heiau that
overlooks the Wailuku Industrial Center on one side, with its warehouses and businesses,
and the PaukUkalo Hawaiian Homestead on the other, the modem Hawaiian .
"reservation." Off in the distance I see a cruise liner anchored in the Kahului Harbor.
Towards the mist-covered mountains lies the valley of 'lao and its hidden caves where
the bones of ancient chiefs reside. Directly below us sleeps the small communitY of
Pi'ihana (well that's how people from there, like my grandmother, pronounce it, even
though is written Pihana in the books). It is there that my great-grandfather established
the Mahalani Cemetery for the Pi'ihana families, and it is there that the bones ofmy
ancestors are planted.
I bet theyaren't freezing. They're probably shaking their heads and thinking to
themselves, "What is that boy doing up there anyway? What an embarrassment." I can't
blame them. I showed up without a malo, borrowed one from Alakai, and then tied it on
only to discover that it was so short that I didn't even have enough material for a front
flap. I explained my dilemma to Alakai, to which he replied with a quizzical look, "Give
me that." I untied it and handed it back to Alakai, and after a snicker he revealed to me
that I forgot to unfold it all the way before putting it on. Those who were around me
200
busted out in laughter, and all I could do was kick myself. Thus I earned the distinction
of tying on the shortest malo in history. Four o'clock is a tough hour.
Thankfully it is about five now. The first shades of gray issue forth from behind
Haleakalii. The world begins to awake and (warm) people start driving to work. It is
about time we started our chant. Yep, there goes Kyle getting his "clap" on. "E ala e, ka
Iii i ka hikina." Kaipo Frias from Hilo wrote the chant a few years back and developed a
distinctive clapping pattern that went along with the words and helped to keep the
cadence (though for some of the more rhythmically challenged folks it works in quite the
opposite fashion). One always worries and hopes that the leader will not start too early,
for once the chant begins, it cannot stop until the sun breaks the horizon. I have heard of
sessions that have gone for nearly forty-five minutes, and have caught cramps in a couple
that went for twenty. Now on Pihanakalani Heiau, Kyle is "giving' it the business," and
the sky has not even started to turn blue yet. We are defmitely in for trouble. But at least
we can move our bodies! I don't think I have ever clapped so hard in my life!
"I ka moa-a-a-ana, ka moana ho-o-o-honu, pi-i-i'i i ka le-e-ewa, ka lewa nu-u 
u'u." Hold uJr-what is this? My chanting is different...1 have found my 'i'i! It is the
much desired vibrato quality that characterizes good chanting. Never mind that the only
reason I have it now is because the muscles in my throat and vocal chords are twitching
uncontrollably as my body temperature drops by forty degrees (which is a full
measurement by the way! Sam Ka'ai would be proud "You have given a full ka'au of
your body heat! The Lord Makani, God ofthe Wind, will be pleased!"). IfI could only
get my teeth to stop chattering, then I would really sound like a champ!
"I kahiki-i-i-ina, a-a-aia ka lii-a-a-a. E ALA E!" We finish after about twenty
minutes as the first rays of the sun burst forth and the top of the yellow globe emerges
from behind the coastal ridgeline that leads to East MauL We all walk back, again much
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closer to one another than usual, and assemble in thegrass hale (house) that many of our
members helped to repair. I can't help but think that a large stone base with walls would
have been a good idea; traditional, and effective at keeping the elements out. As it
stands, we have to make do with blue plastic tarps tied up to cover the open areas that the
wind and rain whip in through. We each wrap ourselves as tightly as possible in our
kibei, but for me it only reminds me ofwhat a real blanket must feel like. After an hour
(or more), we finish our 'awa ceremony, and the season ofKfi is open.
Kfi, the masculine entity, the "erect" and "upright" god. As I make my way to my
truck (deliberately but not too quickly), I try to make sense of what just happened, and
whatpurpose it served. I am not feeling very erect or virile at the moment. Perhaps this
is best chalked down as a "character builder," as myoid British roommate from college
loved to say. Perhaps it is more. In any case, fIrst things fIrst: dislodge the malo (the full
length of it) and check to see that the "boys" are all doing okay. A shrunken package
does not speak well of the mana of KU. PHEW! Everything is in place. KU!!!
****
The body-a site ofconstant distress and redress, both arbiter and executer of
pain, pleasure, and the most intimate knowledge of the self. Muscles and appendages
produce the visible signs ofpast and present experiences that are social, personal,
historical, and cultural. The piercing of thorns through our feet remind us ofhow foreign
the ground has become; the "chicken skin" and tingling ofthe spine signal memories and
feelings that are both ours and not ours; and immersion into the "elements" engenders our
own elemental restructuring. I relate my own bodily experiences on the heiau both as a
form ofcomedic relief (we need to laugh too!) and as an example of the ways that the
discursive processes ofwhich I speak-those related to ideas, language, texts,
knowledge, and representations-are understood, experienced, and produced in very
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important and immediate ways in and through the body. Likewise, bodily processes
produce new forms of knowledge that exist and work in ways that both complement and
go beyond the contemporary understandings of culture as discourse (Farnell 1999). It is
this quality of embodied discursive action-the active signification, enactment, and
production ofidentities through bodily movements and engagements-that makes groups
such as the Hale Mua such potent sites for identity and self-formation. This becomes
even more apparent when one considers the multiple layers of symbolism, meaning, and
emotion that are effected and affected through the rituals process (Turner 1969). Rituals
create a context for men to both separate from the dominant structures ofneocolonial
society and reestablish indigenous structures ofknowledge, power, and
embodiment--even if only for a short time. Importantly, these processes are both
inscribed on the body and enacted through bodily performances and actions.
In this chapter I explore the ways that Hawaiian men in the Hale Mua actively
form and transform their identities through the discursive and bodily practices of hana
kiHai (carving), Wehe Ku (ceremonial opening ofKu), and ho'oikaika kino
(strengthening the body). I argue that identity formation and transformation proceed on
multiple levels through these activities and along modes ofknowing and being that
include but also exceed the realm of discourse. Namely, the process of creating weapons
from wooden boards both symbolizes and effects the "crafting" ofHawaiian men who are
transformed and acquire new cultural knowledge through the process. The sanctification
of these weapons and the men takes place at an important transitional period ofthe year
in which the entity ofKu (who symbolizes the masculine element ofHawaiian society)
returns to bring industry and productivity to the land; there also are these entities given a
new spiritual and cultural life and mana. In the months following this ceremony, the
newly transformed men take on the "work" of identity building by training their bodies,
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minds, and spirits. Importantly, these activities are all framed by a metapragmatics
(Briggs 1986) of"learning/doing the things that Hawaiian men should be
learning/doing." This becomes the foundation for the acquisition and fulfIllment of
kuleana, the rights and responsibilities of Hawaiian men.
It is through these practices that members are kii i mua--east forward/into the
mua. The term "kii i mua" was the name of the rite ofpassage in which a young boy
entered the hale mua in the time of the 'aikapu. The term "kii" means to cast or thrust;
and the term mua literally translates as "fIrst, forward, front, before" as it was spatially
the foremost hale ofthe kauhale (complex of houses comprising a living site). In the kii i
mua ceremony, the boy was not literally "thrust" into the house; rather, the evocation of
movement forward highlights the ways that temporal and spatial practices are mutually
constitutive and inform one and the other. As I mentioned in chapter 3, the term mua also
epistemologically places the past in the front-ka wii rna mua, the time in front/before.
Thus any exploration ofidentity formation through history requires an equally thorough
discussion ofthe embodied practices and movements in space that bring history and
culture to life.
In the previous chapter, I detailed the ways that ritual and bodily processes
provided an important mode for transformation and relating at the ceremonies of
Pu'ukoholii. From the beginning, these processes were inherently gendered modes of
being and have informed much ofthe development ofthe Hale Mua. I discussed a
number of experiences as I saw them in the transition from Nii Koa to Hale Mua; in many
ways, the story ofthis gendered identity transformation reflects both the macro-processes
occurring in the cultural nationalist movement as well as the micro-processes ofidentity
formation in the life stories ofthe Hale Mua members (next chapter). Here I briefly
review some of the larger history ofthe group and track the movements and journeys of
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the men as they returned annually to Pu'ukohola and also became involved with other
nationalist commemorations, the revitalized pa lua, the Royal Order of Kamehameha, and
various culture and arts festivals on MauL As the group grew, it took on new directions,
and after a series of splits and reorganizations, Na Koa became the Hale Mua, the Men's
House. The Hale Mua created a vehicle for men to move "forward" in mind, spirit, and
body. I discuss the new discursive and bodily regimes that the Mua sought to enact in
ritual and less formalized practices, and how the re-organization of the men's house
speaks to the larger dynamics of gender, class, race, and culture in Hawai'i and
elsewhere. I then follow with an ethnographic exploration of the seasonal activities of
those who have dedicated themselves the to project of nation building with the mana of
Kil.
Figure 45. Hale Mua at Pu'ukohola, 2001. Photo courtesy ofElama Farm.
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Nii Koa 0 Maui: The Courageous Ones of Maui
Kyle Niikanelua, a fIrefIghter from Maui, attended Ho'olru'ikahi as a part of Sam
Ka'ai's "crew" of helpers and assistants, others of whom included Earl "Mo" Mollar and
Kiiwika Davidson. Kyle was profoundly moved and inspired by Nii Koa and the
presence of other respected men in the Hawaiian community. Like others, he admired the
courage exhibited by the men who were able to overcome their bodily inhibitions and
wear a malo, "because at dat time, Hawaiian men nevah wear malo" (Niikanelua I999b).
He also recalled:
It was the fIrst time that I knew ofthat Hawaiian males got togedda, othah than
hula, at a cultural level. Ifthere was one, I was unaware ofit...It's the fIrst one
I've ever been a part of, or I've ever been aware of. And it gathered the men to
work. Uh, tlleaf capes were made, pololiis were made, ihes were made, pahoas
and piilaus were made and men participated in this to ho'oulu this side ofthe
Hawaiian society, the materialistic part ofthe culture. Uh, so carving, in the craft
sense, all came together (Niikanelua 2002).
While at the heiau, he spoke to men like Sam, John Lake, Hale Makua, Parley
Kanaka'ole, and Keone Nunes about renewing the "masculine forms" of Hawaiian
culture, one of which included the Hale Mua. Though the creation ofthe Mua was not
realized immediately, it was at the heiau that the ideals were fIrst planted in Kyle's mind.
Invigorated by the experience at Pu'ukoholii, Kyle and the other men from Maui
turned their attentions to the next step. At fIrst, just three or four ofthem got together and
began "delving into things that were Hawaiian" such as language, manufacturing
implements and tools, farming, and reclaiming lands, both as sites of settlement (e.g., the
Kahikinui Hawaiian Homelands) and as sacred sites for the conducting of ceremonies and
rituals (e.g., the heiau ofPihanakalani and Haleki'i in Wailuku). They also continued to
206
support Sam Ka'ai in the conducting of 'awa ceremonies at various cultural events such
as the East Maui Taro Festival.
1993 was an important year in the development of what would later be called Nii
Koa 0 Maui, The Courageous Ones of MauL In January, over 15,000 Kanaka Maoli
participated in 'Onipa'a, the centennial march and commemoration of the illegal
overthrow of the Hawaiian Monarchy held at 'Iolani Palace in downtown Honolulu
(chapter 2). Nii Koa 0 Pu'ukohola attended and stood as ceremonial guards for Sam
Ka'ai and his crew who conducted the 'awa ceremonies at the 'Iolani Palace grounds.
The high visibility of these men conducting rituals and embodying the warriorhood and
courage represented the aggressive spirit ofreclamation that was the essence ofthe
sovereignty movement. These men in turn were also transformed through their
participation in the event.
In September of that year, the Native Hawaiian Culture and Arts Program
(NHCAP), sponsored by the National Parks Service and housed at the Bernice Pauahi
Bishop Museum, began to sponsor a series ofworkshops and seminars on lua, the
Hawaiian bone-breaking martial art that had been long hidden from public view. Though
the pii (lua school) taught both men and women, local magazine and newspaper articles
presented it as primarily a site ofmasculine culture. Men spoke of their renewed warrior
spirit in the interviews and performed deadly strangleholds in the photographs; the news
stories also featured 18th century European voyagers' sketches ofchiefs and warriors that
often (Ambrose 1995; Bowman 1995; Clark 1993). This appealed to many men who felt
that the masculine side ofthe Hawaiian culture was missing. Billy Richards, a former
Marine and Vietnam veteran, recalled that when he took up lua in 1994, it presented "that
missing piece ofthe puzzle" he felt when the Miiori ritually challenged him and his crew
on the HokiIle'a:
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In New Zealand, 300 came out and did haka...But we couldn't respond as warriors
because we didn't know how, so we would send huIa dancers out instead. And
they would always ask, "Where are your men?" (Sodetani 2003)
Kanaka Maoli men and women throughout the islands and on the continent became
instantly enamored by the artthat was shrouded in so much mystery and secrecy. Kyle
was a part ofthe first class ofthe pa and became the leading student and practitioner on
MauL
As newer sites for the achievement of 'Oiwi cultural and gender identities
developed, older organizations that functioned in similar ways for previous generations
began to experience a crisis of sorts; such was the case with the Royal Order of
Kamehameha (Alakai 2002). The Royal Order continued to march in parades and
organize the Kamehameha Day celebrations, but many younger 'Oiwi who had come of
age in the times of aggressive cultural nationalism and revitalization came to see the
Order as an outdated society whose symbolic presence at events would no longer serve
the needs of the current generation. Membership in the Kahekili chapter ofthe Royal
Order ofKamehameha on Maui had dwindled, and officers began a campaign to actively
recruit new members and renew the organization. Cliff Alakai, member ofthe Royal
Order and the Hale Mua, reflected on the difficulties experienced by the Order that have
yet to be fully resolved today:
We're kind of at an identity crisis because old timers like Sam call us "the lodge."
Because at one time we were kind of like the Elk's Lodge, or, you know, that,
where all we did was just sitrlown and drink beer.and kanikapila (play music) and
stuff. But Royal Order is one ofthe oldestHawaiian organizations, and urn. A
lot ofthe older Hawaiian people-the youngerguys aren't too aware ofit-but
the olderguys, you know, people in their,like fifties and older, really have a lot of
208
reverence for the Royal Order and feel that it's, you know kind of represents the
days ofthe old.
(After more conversation, Cliff tries to find words to describe the group today and
I jokingly say "defunct," which we laugh about and Cliffcarries on) Well a lot of
the young guys actually perceive it as being defunct, and an organization that's
kinda a whole bunch ofold fogies that don't do anything. You know-I think
that we can do somethin', but we gotta get our shit together and get goin' in the
right direction....Mainstream Hawaiians kind ofview the Royal Order with
respect. You know often times when we march in parades, people will stand up,
kind oflike a respect kind of thing, which is something kind of nice, I mean,
we're not really ali'i or royalty, but, it's perceived that we, we're in that capacity.
So we try take it seriously, we're trying-we're trying to move the Hawaiian
people forward is really what our goal is (Alakai 2002).
One of the new recruits to the Royal Order (and the man that brought in Cliff) was
Keoki Ki'ili, a middle-aged Hawaiian who had only returned to his home island of Maui
in 1993 after living in the continental U.S. for over twenty years. His interest in lua led
him to a prominent leader in the Order who was a lua practitioner. Keoki and a number
ofother middle-aged Hawaiian men such as Keali'i Solomon, Cliff Alakai, and Clifford
Kapule Hashimoto got involved in both organizations, and in so doing came into contact
with Kyle and Sam.
As the gathering ofmen, and a couple ofwomen, grew and become more
organized on Maui, they continued to attend the armual ceremonies at Pu'ukoholii each
August. Like the 1991 Ho'oku'ikahi, subsequent ceremonies again sought to ritualize
and realize the spiritual unification ofHawaiians, and again they coincided with the older
cultural festival' hosted by the Park and the Waimea Civic Club at Pelekane. Yet unlike
209
the 1991 event, these ceremonies did not commemorate the 1791 consecration and were
instead meant to be a site of living rituals and ceremony. None of the later ceremonies
matched the fIrst event in size, but they continued to draw a devout core of 100-200
participants each year. A number of structural changes took place in Na Papa Kanaka 0
Pu'ukohoIa wherein new Aloali'i were brought in as others left, and John Lake took over
as the Kahuna Nui following the passing of Parley Kanaka'ole in 1993. The council of
elders, Na 'Elemalrua, shrank until only Sam Ka'ai, John Lake, and Thelma Ka'awaloa
remained. The ranks ofNa Koa 0 Pu'ukohoIa from Hawai'i also began to thin and soon
they began to dissociate with the heiau.
Even as the Hawai'i Island Na Koa became less visible on the heiau, Na Koa from
other islands began to rise in prominence at the ceremonies. Kyle Nakanelua and
Ke'eaumoku Kapu, both participants in the fIrst Ho'oku'ikahi, had gone through the lua
seminars and had begun to more actively organize Na Koa groups on their respective
islands ofMaui and O'ahu. Each year that they returned, they brought with them new
members of trained koa, individuals who had often gone through the pa training. Though
predominantly men, each group also had a few women who participated fully. Na Koa
began to institute the sham battles that had become an important part oftraining in lua.
In the sham battles, two sides ofkoa were armed with padded spears that were hurled,
dodged, and parried by those who were skilled; those who were not often ended up with
bruises on their bodies and the unsavory distinction ofbeing the lehua (fIrst victims).
Members ofthe Aloali'i and Na Wa'a Lalani also took part in the action, and eventually
the activities of Na Koa became the most anticipated part ofthe ceremonies.
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Figure 46. Kyle Nakanelua and Ke'eaumoku Kapu are elevated to
kaukau ali'i, Pu'ukohoIa,1997. Photo courtesy ofElama Farm
Kyle and Ke'eaumoku continued to bring new people to Pu'ukohoHi, and in 1997
Na Papa Kanaka gave the men mahiole and 'ahu'ula and elevated to the status of kaukau
ali'i. Likewise, each kaukau ali'i was assigned a kaka'6lelo from among their ranks that
would attend to the ceremonial protocols and speak on their behalf. For Ke'eaumoku, it
was Melelani Pang, a Hawaiian language teacher at Kamehameha. Kyle received
Kamana'opono Crabbe, a Ph.D. candidate in Psychology and a budding chanter of the
highest quality. Kamana'opono had also attended the first Ho'oku'ikahi, and like most of
the other Na Koa, he had gone through the lua training and was a part of the pa.
Meanwhile, the visibility of warrior bodies increased in interesting ways outside
of Kawaihae. On Maui, a British filmmaker contacted Sam Ka'ai to help organize men
to come out and participate as actors in the production of a half-hour segment on
Kamehameha's conquest of Maui called Ancient Warriors: The Hawaiians - Warriors
211
ofParadise, which was a part of the Ancient Tribes series produced by The Learning
Channel (Grabsky 1995). Filmed near the Ritz Carlton Kapalua Resort in West Maui, the
video portrayed a ferociously savage warriorhood and masculinity that in my opinion was
degrading. Yet despite what images ended up in the final product, most participants point
to the process as having been the most important element of the filming: meeting men
who had come together, participating in ceremonies not on camera, reclaiming sites, and
representing their own past as Hawaiian men. As Keoki Ki'i!i (2002) reminisced:
Also meL.two very interesting people. Number one was (popular musician)
Willie K's brother John Kahaiali'i, and also Martin Martinson...a thirty five year
retired chief master sergeant from the Army, Vietnam Vet wounded a couple
times.•. And then that evening...we went up to the mound where the iwi (bones)
was buried at the Ritz Carlton. I didn't know what we were doing...It was a
midnight ceremonial, midnight protocol... And as we were approaching the
mound, we were then informed that we need to get down on our knees and crawl,
because we had some...makana (gifts)..... And that was ah, whoo, that was
impressive to me, that had an impact on me, not realizing that right here there
were a thousand bones...And then that following morning, early in the morning
before three o'clock in the morning, I was introduced into a hi'uwai into the
ocean. Again not understanding, just following through, and walking through all
ofthis steps, eh. And then to be involved in the actual filming...And the fun stuff
about all ofthat stuffis that, we were fihuing at Honolua Bay, and there's a park
there where um,lot of the tourists go to and they do nude sunbathing down there.
What happened was we got permit to use the whole park for ourselves. And, you
know, every time in my stories you'll hear profound statements, and one ofthe
statements that came out was Sam Ka'ai says "Gotta be at least a hundred years
212
that no Hawaiian male has ever swam here in malo. Look at it now." You know,
r was like "Wow!" You know, and it's just amazing to see that, you know, only
Hawaiian men down deah.
What is notable about Keoki's narrative is that the experiences are all mediated through
embodied action and representations ofthe body: he meets someone whose involvement
in America's wars has left his body pennanently scarred; they crawled to the mound
where the physical remains ofancient Hawaiian bodies were reburied after disintennent
during the construction of the resort
2
; he walked ignorantly through the steps into the
ocean to conduct hi'uwai in the darkness ofthe early morning; and, most vividly,
Hawaiian male bodies clad in malo replace naked tourist bodies on the beach. Such
embodied actions and experiences come to play an important role in defining what it
means to be a part of the Hale Mua.
Through their participation in the filming, men like Keoki and Martin were
invited to participate in a march and ceremony commemorating the 200
1h
anniversary of
Kamehameha's conquest of O'ahu at the Battle of Nu'uanu (Altonn 1995; Lake 2003;
Matsunaga 1995). Like Ho'oku'ikahi at Kawaihae, the organizers of the event-John
Lake and Nil. Papa Kanaka 0 Pu'ukohoIa-aimed to unite the Hawaiian people, especially
those whose ancestors had fought at that site just four years after Pu'ukoholil was
consecrated, and to remember the values and virtues of Kamehameha. Nearly 300
individuals participated in the predawn march that ended at bone-chilling Nu'uanu
summit (Keoki remembered freezing his "olos," or "balls"). Nil Koa 0 Pu'ukohoIa was
also there, and this turned out to be one oftheir last appearances with the larger Nil Papa
Kanaka body.
Over the years, the identity of Nil. Koa 0 Maui began to solidify under the
leadership ofKyle Nakane1ua and the spiritual guidance ofKamana'opono Crabbe.
213
Some ofthe major activities included the 1997 greeting ofthe voyaging canoe Hokfile'a
(which Sam had been a crew member of and a carver of stem images), 'awa ceremonies
at the East Maui Taro Festival between 1995-2000, and workshops at the Celebration of
the Arts at the Ritz Carlton Kapalua from the mid-1990s until today; the last was also
organized by a fellow member ofNii Koa Clifford Nae'ole.
Yet as Nii Koa 0 Maui expanded and took on different formations, individuals in
the pii became threatened by the growth ofwhat looked to be organizations that would
supplant them. Between 1997-1998 the politics in the pii escalated to a point that
individuals such as Kyle, Ke'eaurnoku, and others in the Maui and O'ahu contingents
were forced to leave. There are many sensitive issues involved in this split, which I am
not at liberty to discuss. In general terms, the charge ofpracticing lua outside of the
structures ofthe pii became a central issue that led to their expulsion. Many ofthose who
were kicked out felt it was the result ofjealousy on the part ofone individual in particular
who saw the younger and more culturally grounded men like Kyle and Ke'eaumoku as a
threat. The net result was that a number of the young leaders were 'oki 'ia (severed) from
the pii; importantly, the one Maui woman active with Nii Koa remained with the pii,
thereby enabling (at least in part) the creation of a men's house.
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Figure 47. Hale Mua at Pihanakalani and Haleki'i, 2002.
Photo courtesy of Sam Ka'ai.
Hale Mua 0 Maui: The Men's House of Maui
It was at this point that the now "excommunicated" Maui contingent of Na Koa
were forced to regroup and to reestablish a foundation. Sam Ka'ai recounted to me his
advice to the men:
We all talked about, "Well, what goin' happen?" I tell 'em, "Well, be maoli.".. .!
said, "The Hawaiians had a house, the hale mua." Basically the word means to go
forward. You suffah da pain, and now we mad, you all get yo' own individual,
and okay. Let's poundeach addah until we meld togethah like poi. That's
honoring Hiiloa. Fo' extend da life, taro by itself will rotten, sour in three days.
So you pound 'em togetha so get less surface exposed... 'Ass means, whatever
215
you are, you must transform by being meldinto one. And what it's done fo'? To
go forward. The very principle or virtue is, no mattah how much pain you get,
cry, go hit yo' head against da coconut tree, do whatevah, den come to one
consensus, get up da next morning, and do (Ka'ai 1999a).
Notably, Sam recuperates the philosophies ofHo'oku'ikahi, which literally means to beat
and pound into one. ill this case, the purpose ofsuch "melding" is to go forward (i mua).
Kyle rooted the development ofthe group in the fIrst conversations about
reinvigorating Hawaiian masculine culture that he took part in at Pu'ukoholii. When I
asked him about the formation ofthe Mua, he spoke of a more gradual process in which
the men that were congregating had all along been unconsciously creating Hale Mua:
As this thing started evolving over the years, as more men started getting involved
and taking an interest, what you have is a formation of a hale. Ifyou look at hale
and break it down, it says its a foundation, so if you have this hale, this foundation
of men that believes in moving forward, i mua, hale i mua, and then there you
have it. And ifour interest is to preserve knowledge, mana'o, ways, works, arts,
crafts, science, etc., etc., for the generations to come - which was the basic
principle of the hale mua in the old days is that it prepared the younger ones to
assume the position therefore assuring the preservation and the perpetuation of the
clan, the 'ohana, family, the Hilmi, the nation etc., etc. So essentially that's what
we're doing we're, e '01elo ana kakou, e oli ana kakou, e hula ana kakou, e hana
ana kakou i na mea 0 ka po'e 0 ka wii kahiko me ka mana'o 0 ka po a me keia
mana'o 0 keia ao (we are speaking, we are chanting, we are dancing, we are doing
the things ofthe people ofthe ancient times with the thoughts of the ancestral
realm ofpo and with these thoughts of this time.) And ifyou want this ideal ofan
idea to live, then all we gotta do is uku (pay) the manawa (time) and uku the
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mana, and it has and it will continue; if we don't want it to, all we gotta do is to
stop feeding it, and it will hala (pass) until the next group of courageous
individuals decide that these are the stones they wanna pick and the walls that
they wanna build up (Niikanelua 1999b).
Others I asked also saw the progression from Nil Koa to the Hale Mua as a natural and
non-dichotomized one. Few people mentioned the separation ofthe final woman from
the group as a factor until I asked directly, at which point most agreed that one cannot be
a Mua with women. Yet they noted that her departure occurred as a result of the pil split,
not because they kicked her out. More importantly though, they always saw Nil Koa as
being masculine and a place for men to practice their culture.
Now an exclusive gathering of men, the group took as its new identity the Hale
Mua. As I discussed in the chapter 2, the hale mua ofthe 'aikapu period functioned as
the men's eating house, the domestic temple where the ancestors were worshiped and fed.
Boys were usually initiated into the hale mua at around the age offive to seven. Before
that time they were keiki lewalewa who wore no malo and took all their meals with the
women and young girls in the hale 'aina. When a boy entered the mua, the "1m i mua"
ceremony was performed. The father ofthe boy baked a pig and placed the head on the
kuahu (alter, shrine) where all the ki'i (images) ofthe akua and 'aumiikua were kept. The
ear was cut off the pua'a (pig) and put into an ipu (gourd), which was hung around the
ki'i ofthe Lono, god of growth and fertility, whose kinolau these items were. Prayers
and offerings of foods kapu to men-pua'a, mai'a (bananas), niu (coconuts}-and 'awa
were made to all the other male akua and 'aumiikua as welL A special prayer clilled the
"Pule Ipu" or "Gourd Prayer" was offered to Lono asking that the boy grow big and
strong like the gourd. Then all the men present feasted. The child was given his first
malo, and from that day on he would no longer be a keiki lewalewa. He would take part
217
in the feeding of the alma and 'aumakua, and he would learn his role as man (Malo
1987:64·66).
In addition to being the place offeeding the ancestors, the mua functioned as an
important site for the learning and practicing of men's kuleana, skills, work, knowledge,
and activities. It was also a place in which "men kept and worked on their tools,
including adzes, files for making fishhooks, and the like, and their weapons; here they
carved bowls of wood, made cord for lashings and for lines and nets" (Handy, et al.
1972:297). Pukui, et al. (1972, Voll:114) note the discursive production of masculinity
that occurred when "legends, bold and brave, were told; exploits ofhunting and fishing
related; the fine points of navigation discussed...This was a man's world"(l972, 1:114).
The practices ofthe mua also localized ideologies of separation that had as much ifnot
more to do with class as it did gender, primarily in regards to the separation ofthe ali'i
from the maka'liinana (Karne'eleihiwa 1992:39).
Taking a functionalist approach to culture and society, a number of individuals
have argued that once the 'aikapu ended, and the hale mua along with it, the institution
for learning men's roles in society and the progressive "destruction ofthe Hawaiian
male" followed (Nunes and Whituey 1994). Writing in 1972, Pukui, Haertig and Lee
argued:
With departed gods and eating kapu went a prime function ofmen: the ritual
feeding of family gods kept in the hale mua (men's eating house). With the hale
mua there also went the practice ofkii i mua which placed the education ofboys
in male hands. Man's role in the 'oharra was weakened. Here, perhaps, were the
basic changes that led to present day Hawaiian families inwhich fathers are so
often absent or disinterested (Pukui, et al. 1972, Vol 2:230).
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On many levels, the loss of'the abolition of the kapu system and the loss of the hale mua
has become an arch-symbol and explanation of colonial emasculation in Hawai'i. As I
mentioned in the introduction, this notion is problematic and produces a discourse which
itself works to perpetuate a colonial discourse ofemasculation. For my purposes,
however, I point to the relevance ofthe hale mua as a metaphor to think with and a model
for action and transformation. The Hale Mua provides 'Oiwi men with an opportunity to
understand their place and kuleana in a culturally and politically transformed Hawaiian
community and to rebuild a cultural foundation for men and their people as a whole.
Kyle credits Kamana'opono in larger part with the research into and development
of the structure and ceremonial aspects ofthe Hale Mua as it is practiced today. As a part
ofdoctoral degree coursework in psychology, Kamana'opono was working in 1997 as a
clinician at the Hale Na'au Pono, a mental health clinic in Wai'anae, O'ahu. There he
organized Hui Ku Ha'aheo, a Hawaiian men's cultural group based on the hale mua that
would serve "as an alternative form oftreatment for adult Hawaiian males suffering from
substance abuse and family violence problems" (Crabbe 1997:2). The program
emphasized "moral character development" (pA) and sought to expose men to
"traditional methods ofhealing" that would teach the kuleana (roles and responsibilities)
and loina (values) related to specific activities (e.g., worshipping, parenting, farming,
fishing) and social norms and etiquettes (pp.5-6). Mter eight weeks, Kamana'opono led
a cultural retreat on Kaho'olawe, an island that was used by the U.S. military as a
bombing target and that served as a focal point for the conscientization and mobilization
of Kanaka Maoli during the 1970s. Its historical significance as a site of struggle,
reclamation, and healing for Kanaka 'Oiwi further contextualizes activities there.
Kaho'olawe today serves as a site for cultural, physical, and spiritual restoration for the
Kanaka Maoli and the 'aina. On island, the men prepared and cooked traditional foods in
219
an imu (earth oven) and prepared 'awa for a pani (closing ceremony) that involved a ka i
mua in which men received a malo and kibei to mark "their passage into male adulthood"
(p.7). Individuals also engaged in traditional sports, worked on the island reforestation
and clean-up projects, and spent a good deal of time in group discussion. Kamana'opono
reported:
The island environment provided a unique setting for the group to re-live and
experience the lifestyle of their cultural heritage. It was observed the sample
exhibited increased unity, inter-dependence on others, and cooperation as the
retreat progressed. These behaviors may be attributed to a balanced structure
between cultural activities (Le., malama ka 'aina, pani, makahiki games [caring
for the land, closing ceremony, Hawaiian sports/games)) and individual and group
processing. This approach allowed subjects to behaviorally experience traditional
practices, customs, beliefs, and values leamed during group meetings while
simultaneously initiating psychological change. Consequently, this experimental
process became the foundation for many individuals to share personal conflicts
rarely discussed with others. Moreover, participants also expressed feelings of
freedom, 'ohana [family] unity, spiritual awakening, and renewed appreciation for
being Hawaiian...the ease in which each clients[sic] were able to divulge highly
personal and sensitive issues may be attributed to feelings of safety and protection
provided in a closed cultural setting (Crabbe 1997:13).
The experience ofthe Hui Ku Ha'aheo laid the foundation for what would be
implemented in the Hale Mua, especially through its focus on identity formation through
ritual processes ofliminality and communitas, embodied actions and experiences, and
discursive practices oftelling life stories in large group settings. The Wai'anae men
came to a deeper sense ofself as Hawaiian men through the separation from their home
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communities; fonnation ofcommunitas in a symbolically loaded site of liminality;
engagement of their bodies in physical work and play that produced cultural items (food,
drink, sport); inscription and internalization ofculture and values through a number of
embodied experiences (donning the malo and kihei, eating ritual foods, drinking 'awa,
telling and heariug stories, feeling "something" within their na'au); description and
fonnation ofexperience through verbal interactions that would not otherwise occur were
it not for the context provided by the island and situation ofcommunitas; and
reaggregation upon return to their "nonnal" lives on O'ahu.
3
Indeed, the anticipation of "return" proved to be the only point of tension on
Kaho'olawe. During group discussions, one man expressed his anxiety over "leaving the
solitude ofKaho'olawe island and the positive interaction experienced and knowing he
would return to life stressors associated with urbanO'ahu" (Crabbe 1997:12). The
prospect of "burning up in re-entry" loomed on the horizon as men were faced with the
contradictions posed by the larger politics and continuing force of colonial institutions
and discourses. For a number ofmen, the experience of Kaho'olawe gave them a better
sense ofHawaiian identity and self-esteem that helped them to maintain sobriety and
avoid domestic conflicts at home (ibid.:12); however, the aforementioned individual
found the transition from communitas to community to be and once back in Wai'anae he
"violated program guidelines [of sobriety] and later relapsed" (ibid.: I 1-12). Though one
may question the institutional premises underlying such guidelines as well as the very
framework ofcertain mental health approaches to "therapy," which assumes a "problem"
to be treated, the salience ofwhat Kamana'opono identified as anxiety due to "personal
transition and life adjustment" (ibid.:12) speaks to the larger "dialectic ofthe
development cycle" (Turner 1969:97) that simultaneously necessitates and delimits the
creation of liminality and communitas (or anti-structure) in relation to structure, in this
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case that ofneo-colonial American society. Kamana'opono reflected on his experience
with the Hui Kii Ha'aheo:
The males were very displaced in society. They were searching for what, what is
their responsibility. (pause) I dunno if searching, but just not knowing...Why
don't they knoW? Maybe dey nevah had the guidance, the adult, kupuna (elder)
guidance that they needed. Maybe their peer group was a much more of an'
influential factor in their belief and lifestyle. I see a lot of drugs, I see a lot of
abuse, reckless and careless way ofthem acting out their lives and not fulfIlling
their family roles and responsibilities (Crabbe 1999).
For Kamana'opono, as well as for Kyle and Sam, the answer to this problem lay in the
institutionalization ofrituals, practices, and philosophies associated with the hale mua.
In the Western society we have no, no formal ritual for rites ofpassage, eh, but in
our culture and many addah cultures we do, and to me I tink dat's important.
'Cause when you do da kli i mua ceremony...it teaches many things. One:
carrying on traditional practice. Associated with this practice are certain customs
which is: chanting, praying, giving ofmalo, okay, as well as beliefs. The belief
that, you begin your formal cycle and/or education to become one, one man. What
that cycle is and that process is, it takes a while, and there are certain things you
need to learn. I nevah have that. I nevah have dat. And dat's what I think is not
being transmitted to our youth today. It's your fathers that have to transmit some
of that knowledge. We cannot expect single parent mothers to be doing that
today. Ifwe are, then somehow there's a big gap, a lack of (pause), lack of
participation on the part ofmales with their young sons. Many many women
have come forth, kumu hula have come forth. I think it's about time that males
step forward, fulfill their responsibilities (Crabbe 1999).
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The Hale Mua 0 Maui has thus developed as a group to ka i mua--"cast"
Hawaiian men forward in society, which in turn would lead to the collective advancement
of all Kanaka Maoli. The name Na Koa is still maintained to some degree, and perhaps
more so at Pu'ukohola, but most now refer to the group as the Hale Mua or Mua. In this
modem iteration of the Hale Mua 0 Maui, Kyle Nakanelua, the po'o, has developed a
physical regime that involves exercise, dance, and martial arts. Sam Ka'ai, the group's
elder, has led workshops in which men have been trained in the techniques and
philosophies-modem and ancient-associated with the production of material culture.
Kamana'opono Crabbe, the kaka'olelo and spiritual guide, has taken charge oftraining
men in chants, prayers, and 'Oiwi philosophy of the akua and kane. Below Kyle, a
number of alaka'i (leaders) have organized and facilitated work and communication
within their lima (smaller groupings of five or so men); these alaka'i are Cliff Alakai
(whose name suits his position)', Elama Farm, Keoki Ki'ili, and Keali'i Solomon.
Yet even this structure is quite loose, and in practice most relations are very
egalitarian and do not adhere closely to the hierarchical structure. In fact, one of the
ways in which the Hale Mua defines itself is in opposition to the organization of the halau
hula. Both Kyle and Sam reject the label of"kumu" (the source) and instead see their
roles as being facilitators ofknowledge production by creating contexts in which "innate"
and "intuitive" knowledge can emerge (through ritual, woodcarving, exercise, sparring,
dance, and chant) and facilitating networks among the men who would then be able to
help one another in their various endeavors and projects. In this sense, the Hale Mua is
understood in contrast with the hierarchil;al and regimented structures of the halau. This
was just one of many ways, as I will discuss below, that the Mua has developed an
identity through contradistinction with the halau-not the least of which is masculine
versus feminine.
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Architecture ofthe Hale Mua
The Mua's yearly activities attempt to follow Kanaka Maoli reckonings of time,
or at least acknowledge them. In traditional times, the year was divided into twelve lunar
months that were split into two seasons: kau (hot season, approximately May through
October) and ho'oilo (wet season, November through April). Eight months ofthe year
(approx. February-September) were devoted to work, industry, farming, fishing, temple
worship, and political maneuvering (which included war); this was the time of Kit The
remaining four months (approx. October-January) were set aside for the celebration of
the Makahiki harvest festivals; all work ceased and the people engaged in sport, games,
hula, relaxation, and the giviIig ofofferings made to Lono, god offertility and peace.
s
The Hale Mua's activities coincide with the time of Kii. Sometime during March
or April (depending upon the time that the 'ohi'a trees bloom), the Mua gathers on the
heiau ofPihanakalani and Haleki'i to perform the Wehe Kii ceremony that opens the
season of Kii and begins Hale Mua's year. At this time, any mea kaua or other forms of
material culture that have been crafted beforehand are consecrated. After the Wehe KU,
the Mua meets weekly to train in the use ofthe mea kaua and learn the various routines
that will be performed at Pu'ukohola. The Mua also participates in various public events
that occur regularly (e.g., the Celebration of the Arts at the Ritz-Carlton) and those
organized for special occasions (e.g., the 2001 Kii'S 'Elua march in Lahaina that I opened
the introduction with). The last major activity each year is attendance at the Pu'ukohoIa
ceremonies in mid-August. In September, a pani (closing ceremony) is held back on
Maui and the group then takes a break during the Makahiki season.
. In 2002, between twenty-five and thirty-five men were active in the Mua, with
number fluctuating weekly at practices and increasing for special ceremonies and other
events. Most of the men were middle-class (though most came from a working class
224
background) and middle-aged (between 30-60). All were heterosexual, or at least
claimed to be if I asked (which I did not for everyone). The men held a wide range of
occnpations that included county work in waste water plants, horticulture division, and
pools; state employment in the fire department and law enforcement, including the
prosecutor's office; federal jobs in the military and air traffic control; and a wide range of
other professions in medicine, construction, business, and utilities. Most were married or
divorced and had children (a very few had grandchildren); at the time, three younger boys
(ages 8, 9, and 13) were participating with their fathers and/or uncles.
The majority ofthe men in the group could claim at least one other lineage in
addition to Hawaiian; most could claim two or three. Though primarily a group for men
of Kanaka Maoli ancestry, Kyle began to open the Mua to men who had Hawaiian
children, were indigenous Polynesians of other island nations, and fmally to those who
had other connections to an indigenous heritage from elsewhere. Though few in number,
these individuals included a middle-aged Maori man and his young son who was
attending the Hawaiian language immersion elementary school, and a man in his early
thirties who was seeking to reconnect with his Mayan heritage.
In chapter 7, I examine in close detail the life stories of some of the members, and
in the process detail some of the various anxieties and desires that underlay the men's
motives for joining and participating in the group. For the purposes of this chapter, I will
presage some ofthe later discussion by mentioning here that many of the men felt a dual
sense of alienation from the Hawaiian culture (because oftheir Westernization/
Americanization) and American culture (because oftheir Hawaiian racial and ethnic
background). A desire to find out one's "place" was a common theme running through
the discussions. Many ofthe men in the group either moved to Maui from another island,
often O'abu, or had moved away from Maui for a period and then returned later. Thus
225
the movement ofbodies through space and time and between locations of "home" and
"away" mirrored a perceived distance from Hawaiian culture and dissonance in American
society. Returning to the points I opened this chapter with, I argue that the Hale Mua
provides the men a ritual space ofliminality that allows the men to embody and perform
those 'Oiwi traditions and practices that give them a deeper sense ofidentity as Hawaiian
men who must live and work in a Western world--even ifit is one that they seek to
transfonn--outside of the sanctuary ofthe Hale Mua. Part ofthis requires knowing
about the past and doing what our ancestors did-dancing the dances, singing the songs,
carving the weapons, eating the foods, drinking the 'awa, and conducting the rituals.
Discursive practices ofretelling and reliving mo'olelo are located on a variety of levels as
I show throughout this dissertation. Here I show how the body as the authenticator and
mediator of"real" knowledge takes on a privileged role in the activities ofthe Mua.
Creating connections and ties with other like-minded men gives them an
opportunity to reconnect with each.other as Hawaiian men outside ofthe usual context of
uprooted, transnational class-based relations intrinsic to the system of late-capitalism.
Michael Schwalbe uses Victor Turner's theories to analyze the mythopoetic men's
movement in North America as essentially a search for communitas among middle-age,
middle-class white men who have experienced a type ofspiritual bankruptcy as laborers
in the American capitalist society (Schwalbe 1996; 1998). Cliff Alakai's description of
the men in the Hale Mua is worth quoting here:
It tends to be...the guys around like the forty year olds, that type ofrange. People
who have gone out, done something, and felt like they're not satisfied with their
life and they're tryin' to come back. It tends to be people that join our-that stay
with our group, cause joining and staying are two different things. Urn, the guys
who stay, I notice a lot ofthem come from a Catholic faith, where it's not as rigid,
226
in terms ofthe guys who are real Christian or the Baptist, tend to have, seem to
have trouble with the heiau, and the whole, uh, spirituality side....Our group tends
to attract more ofthe middle class kinds of guys. I think mostofour guys have
steady-jobs, or work, have mortgages, a lot of them have children, and urn, tend to
be in the middle, middle class. A lot of our group tends to come from off-island,
from O'abu. Or, there's only, like we talked about, maybe Piliand Jay are guys
that never really left Maui that are still in the group, but Rick, who's a Maui
native, went away to college and came back. So a lot of our guys tends to be guys
who have come from elsewhere or gone away and come back. We get a lot of
"bum-ups on reentry" like Keoki (chuckling)...A lot of our group is made up of
guys from off-island, that are trying to look for somethin' (Alakai 2002).
He furthermore identifies an important distinction between the make-up of the Mua and
that ofKe'eaumoku's group in Lahaina, which is made up primarily of young men just
out ofhigh school or in their early twenties who might otherwise be getting in trouble and
"need that structure...whereas our guys...we have structure in our lives, we're just looking
for an oudet to release our creative energies it seems like" (Alakai 2002). Importantly, a
desire to subvert or withdraw from "structure" underwrites the motivation for a number
of men joining the Mua. The Hale Mua offers them personal and social transformation
through liminal experiences.
Many of the activities ofthe mythopoetic men's movement bear a resemblance to
the work ofthe Hale Mua, especially in the use ofrituals, embodied actions ofdance, and
deeply emotional sharing oflife-stories. Yet the goals of the Hale Mua are intimately
bound up with the larger project ofHawaiian cultural nationalism, which includes a
reconnection and reclamation of traditions in order to revitalize ke ea 0 ka 'aina, the
sovereignty/life ofthe land. The mythopoetic men's movement on the other hand has as
227
its goal the reconnection of men as men whose search for their shared masculine energies
work to erase the issues of racial hierarchies that the Hale Mua was born of. Part ofthis
is reflected in the mythopoetic men's appropriation ofNative American rituals, a deeply
problematic move that indexes an ignorance of indigenous people. Yet at some basic
levels, both groups are "responding to the alienation and isolation that stem from living in
a capitalist society that encourages people to be greedy, selfish, and predatory"
(Schwalbe 1998:576). In that sense, the effects of political-economic structures extend to
a wide range ofindividuals.
All of the various desires and anxieties that underlay men's motives for
reclamation materialized in very concrete ways on the body and were worked out through
bodily practices. For the remainder of the chapter, I will describe the three major areas of
discursive and embodied action in Hale Mua: producing material culture, conducting the
Wehe Kii, and working out weekly.
228
Figure 48. Kamana'opono Crabbe, Rick Bissen, and Keawe'aimoku Kaholokula
show off their big sticks. Ihe workshop, Cliff Alakai's house, Pukalani, Maui,
February 2002. Photo by author.
Figure 49. Sam Ka'ai in Pukalani workshop, February 2002. Photo by author.
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Hana kalai: shaping identity. making your world
Kyle and Sam often frame the activities of the Mua within a metapragmatics of
enacting Hawaiian identity and masculinity. In the case ofcarving, they constantly
reiterate that we are not only making a weapon but also perpetuating Hawaiian culture
and carrying on the knowledge ofour kilpuna. Thus the importance lies not in what
shape the wood ends up taking but rather the fact that we go through the process and in so
doing make our own mana.
Before the Wehe Kil ceremonies at Pihanakalani, the Hale Mua holds weekend
workshops to craft the mea kaua to be consecrated at the heiau and used in practice and at
Pu'ukohola. On February 2002, approximately twenty men produced ihe (spears 8-9 ft in
length) and six men made ne'ella'au palau
6
(combination long club/short spear 5-6 ft in
length) out of 'ohi'a wood purchased from a Hilo lumber company. The workshops took
place in Pukalani at the houses of Cliff Alakai and Sam Ka'ai, both of whom have fully
equipped workspaces complete with power and hand tools ofvarious types.
Like all other activities ofthe Hale Mua, the day began with pule. Kamana'opono
chanted pule to the various manifestations ofKil that preside over the upland forests and
carving. Kyle and some ofthe other alaka'i explained that these weapons and the wood
we are working with are the kinolau ofthese forms ofKil, and that when we carve and
use these weapons we are at once invoking their mana and adding to it with our own.
After more explanation of who was working where, the men were paired off so that they
could work together on the production of each other's pieces and at the same time learn
from one another's achievements and mistakes. Those who were more experienced in
woodworking and crafting guided the less experienced ones who have either never used
an electric bandsaw or never seen an ihe. The alaka'i provided lunch, and others also
230
brought food and drink to add to the table. After pule, eating, and talk-story ("chewing
the fat"), everyone returned to work and ended at about four or five in the afternoon.
It is here in the workshops that the men receive the "pedagogy of Ka'ai." In
previous years, all work was done with Sam and under his tutelage. In those days spent in
Pukalani, Sam repeatedly told us that we should make three spears first, and then on the
fourth we would know how; but since time, money, and materials were limited, this one
would have to do. He actively defined the context of our activities by sharing stories of
how he learned carving from his uncles in Kaupa. Over the long course ofmany years he
first watched, then fetched and carried materials, learned to sharpen and tie the adze, and
fmally began to carve the wood. He reminded us that our material culture would die
unless we gave it life, and to do that we needed to make and use it, not purchase it and
steal someone else's mana. We marveled at his uncle's stone and metal adzes that he
showed us and awkwardly fumbled with his various mallets and chisels when there were
not enough power-grinders to go around. He made us feel the wood with our hand, and
trained us to identify the dips and ridges that needed to be transformed. He also gave us
pointers on how to pull the rasp at different angles so as to most efficiently shave off
excess wood. He barked and yelled at us when we jammed his bandsaw, telling us over
and over again how much a new blade costs. He watched as we stmggled to find center
lines and make even cuts, and just when we were about to permanently transform our
spears into canes, he would take two swipes with the hand-planer and promptly end our
misadventures in woodworking.
At the end ofeach work day, we cleaned up his shop and sat down outside to "talk
story." Topics of conversation ranged fromwhat we experienced and learned in the
workshop, to the current politics ofthe day, to the latest goings-on in each person's life.
Just as he carved wooden logs into implements imbued with the mana ofthe akua that
231
they embodied as kinolau, so too did Sam craft mo'olelo about the Hawaiian people,
culture and history from the fragments ofhis own life experiences and the pieces of our
own that were shared in the circle. At a 1999 papa ku'i 'ai (poi pounding board)
workshop, 1brought my video camera and was fortunate to record an afternoon talk-story
session in which four or five of us were present with Sam. After asking everyone to
share what they learned (and also telling me to tum the camera on myself and give my
"anthropological" opinion), he then related to us his own reasons for teaching us.
Every generation passes on. Usually within a given family, the elder determines
he wants---they need something for the family. The men usually go in as the
muscle. And 1 did that as help, you go carry, kokua, go do all of dat. And you
watching, dey not letting you near da adze. First 'ting dey did wit' us wit' adze
was, "Hemo ke kaula [take off the cordl, sharpen 'em, and tie da kaula back on."
But when people tell, "I come from a canoe making family" and dey no can
sharpen one adze, or dey cannot tie dat adze, someting wrong. Because da first
ting you are is fetch and carry...Slowly goin' get to one point he say, "Boy! Heah,
heah, use dis adze, go ovah deah an' cut dis log post into four sides, five sides, six
sides," da's da first cuts you goin' make. You guys are jumping way ahead of da
game. We got shorter period to teach, eh.
When I first met Keoki, Keoki asked a question like ah, "Oh, I need one spear fo'
hang behind my desk" (laughtedrom all the guys listening and someone saying
"you get dat on film?") and I told Keoki, "Ah (pause) dat's not da right question,
so I not goin' address da subject." So one time we had a class, 1 say, "I will not
teach you to steal yo' mana. Desire is talking the talk. Gettin' da tools ready,
dat's walkingda talk. Sometime along da line we goin' know yo' skill level, let's
walk da walk." Dat's what Pu'ukoholii about. Da idea is dat, Hawaiians should
232
not be fighting over heirlooms dat "so-and-so took to da mainland' and "aunty so 
and-so get, ouwah side ofda family no mo' poundah"-datshould stop. The
original Hawaiian made his own world....And so it's part of also owning da, da
material culture. You gonna walk around and say "Na Koa" you bettah know
how to use a spear! And we reach dat point, so dis is da thing,eh: in orderto honor
HaIoa. And why should we honor Haloa? For da Christians, Jesus Chirst gave his
life to save da earth. Hiiloa gave his life to bring hii to daworI~xygen,breath.
Dey neededit, dey made it, it becomes part ofda culture, you possess all da
knowledge, you tell da story-it's gonna be slightly different from my story, and
dat's okay. Dat's what produce da culture, when dere are fifty-four versions and
eighty percent sounds like da same. Then we're a people, we own da material
culture. Get lot of intellectual stuff, lot of writing, university style....[taIk on
Pu'ukohola as the place we go to petition heavens]...Don't get your darn
intellectual in deah, get you spiritual side in deah, same ting heah (Ka'ai 1999b).
Sam's narrative points to a number ofimportant themes that are reproduced in the
Hale Mua, and often times inexplicitly, that have to do with the juxtaposition/elevation of
traditional Hawaiian modes ofbelonging, behaving, acting, relating, and understanding in
relation to those produced in the modem, capitalist, Christian, American order. Like
Keoki, many men want a spear because it offers them a chance to possess the ultimate
symbolofHawaiian identity and masculinity, one that is a particularly difficult
commodity to come by. Sam rejects the very basis of such an idea and posits instead the
notion that it is only real when one produces it through work and gives it life by learning
to use it.
The poi board, and indeed all material culture, produces the life and ha (breath) of
the culture and the people when it is used; thus it physically manifests the prayer of
233
Hiiloa, the taro that sprang from the stillborn fetus ofWiikea and Ho'ohOkUkalani and
became the staple crop of the people. As the foundation for extending life by literally
pounding taro pieces into the solid mass, the papa ku'i 'ai allows the men to ritually
perform the unification and sustenance ofthe people and culture by making poi and
feeding people. The same holds true for spears: its primary importance lies not in its
representation ofidentity (though this is undeniably important to people), but rather in its
use in perpetuating the cultural and spiritual practices ofthe people. An integral part of
the life giving process is the emergence ofthe creativity and "innate" knowledge ofthe
carver. Though Sam provides a basic template to follow, each man shapes his piece
differently and produces a unique project that is at once the embodiment ofhis own self
and the creation of a new entity. Often times, men are told to just "feel" their way and let
their ancestors guide their work; thus the importance of calling these ancestors and akua
in the beginning of each project.
Though most of the people involved in the 2002 workshop were at Alakai'shouse
working on ihe and only a few of us were at Sam's doing the ne'e, Sam found his
"teachable moments" in lunchtime discussions (where all were gathered) and when he
came down to "check up" on the guys at A1akai's place. Yet he did not need to verbalize
these things, for most ofthe men had already heard hours on end of his wisdom and had
begun retelling and reliving his stories on their own. When I interviewed Alakai later, he
reflected on the importance oflearning through working with Sam:
I think we as Hawaiian people need to get back to what's real in our culture and
get away from the mysticism, and that's what I learned from Sam and appreciate
you know. Make the thing, make it forty times, and after you've made it forty
times, you'll know how to make. And, you know, sometimes people will make it
once, and they create like paddles, you know. They'll make a beautiful paddle
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but they'll never paddle it...so they never really know what it's like. They should
make a couple, paddle it, and get real comfortable with it, so they know. And
that's one thing Kyle Nakanelua preaches, and I think came--comes from Sam,
about learning it, and knowing itinside and out, and using it. You know, it's not
living culture unless you practice it, and I think we need to do it (Alakai 2(02).
When I interviewed Pili Cabatingan and Puka Ho at the latter's home, the two
spoke of another set ofissues that are raised in the pedagogy ofKa'ai. Pili, who had
worked in hotels and part-time in his girlfriend's Hawaiian crafts shop, spoke ofhow his
initial interest in the group sprang from an attraction to making an ihe but soon gave way
to his identification with the communal and egalitarian modes of interacting that took
place in the workshops and in the weekly meetings:
And den [I] met Sam, and he was teachin' da crafts. And was like, wow, clm
make one ihe, ho, dat is just up my alley. So right from den on was (pause) And
you know, these, the guys was, nobody was out deah to, to, whatchu call, ah
(pause) you know, like to prosper off anaddah. [They] just like to share all da
knowledge. What dat person have, dey can share. What you don't know and
somebody else get, you can ask, and you know, dat person willing to give you.
So dat was one big reason why I stayed too, cause ofdat attitude. Not all, only
tryin' to [md ways to take advantage of somebody, eh, to make a dollah off of
somebody, dat wasn't da case. So da's da kine group I can trus'. Especially, like,
you know the leadership we get from dem, eh. So, da's what I wen' like
(Cabatingan 2(02).
Importantly, these modes ofbeing and acting emerge clearly in the group production of
the weapons where groups oftwo or three men will help one individual make his ihe or
ne'e.
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Puka also emphasized the importance that the Hale Mua places on fellowship,
trust, and communal production of knowledge; indeed, the very fact that Puka invited
Pili to join him in a joint interview-and the dynamic that ensued-was a testament to
the fact. Puka also raised another important epistemological point in his discussions. In
response to my question on how/if the Mua has changed his identity, he echoed Pili's
sentiment that it increased his desire to know. For him though, the hands-on leaming
through doing-rna ka hana ka 'ike-played an important role in making him feel that he
could learn and practice his culture and identity:
It's like Pili said, it increased, yeah, made my desire fo' learn more. And now I
know, get one addah way ofleaming, eh. It's notjustreadin' out of one book
(Pili: 'ae [yes]) it's doing, and to me it's (pause) Fo' me, I get harder-hardtime
learning outta one book, I get easy time doing, yeah. When you make da mistake,
you see da mistake you do, eh, instead ofjus' doin 'em on papeh. You know you
write 'em down, and den "Oh, I cannot figure dis out, I cannot figure dis out," but
ifyou doin 'em, and you make da mistake, you like "Oh, das what I did wrong,"
cause it's deah in front ofyou, yeah, instead of on papeh, and fo' me da's, I learn
dat way easier, eh. (pause) I guess da's da upbringin', eh: you do' em wrong you
catch cracks (Ho 2002).
Puka most clearly knows the reality ofembodied knowledge and pedagogies ofthe body,
for he experienced domestic violence as a young boy. Yet he does not use that as a
crutch to blame any of his shortcomings on; rather, it is just a part of who he is and how
he knows. Many other men too have forged masculinities out ofviolence (Bowker
1998), and this is one ofthe elements that the Hale Mua both builds upon and seeks to
transform through ritual and training (See also 110 1999:105-1 07),.
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Figure 50. Hale Mua on Pihanakalani, Wehe Ku, 2002. Photo from Sam Ka'ai
Figure 51. Peter Vanderpoel shares a mo'olelo, Haleki'i 2002. Also (from left):
Paki, Keali'i, author (back), Lanakila (front), Peter, Moku, and Hokuao.
Photo from Sam Ka'ai.
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Kii rising: reinvigorating the masculine
The Wehe Kii (opening ofKii) ceremonies officially begin the year's cycle of
activities that goes from about March and ends in September with a pani (closing
ceremony). In the Hawaiian pantheon of alma, the Kii/Hina pair represents the
male/female duality of the sexes that organizes the universe in the cosmogonic genealogy
chant the Kumulipo (Kame'eleihiwa 1999:2-4; Valeri 1985:12). Kii, whose name means
"standing, upright, erect," encompasses all the male gods (and their properties) and
represents the male generating power; Hina, whose name means "prostrated, lying down,
horizontal," presides over the female akua and represents female fecundity and the power
ofgrowth and (re)production (Beckwith 1970:12-13; Pukui, et al. 1972, Vol 2:122;
Valeri 1985:12). As Kame'eleihiwa(l999:4) remarks:
The Hawaiian world was...divided into female and male domains of work, and
was considered pono, correct and righteous, when there was a balance between
the two. When there is balance in the world, the ancestral Alma are pleased, and
when there is perfect harmony in the universe, people are protected from all harm.
Not only is Kii defined with and in opposition to Hina (and vice-a-versa), but also if
either is missing, the whole of society suffers. As Pukui, et al. (1972, Vol 2) explain,
"Kii, the masculine, is always accompanied by Hina, the feminine"(l28), and together the
two "symbolize the balance embodied in well-being"(l47).
Kanaka Maoli seeking to return balance in the self and society have used the
metaphors ofduality and balance between Kii and Hina as models for thinking with. One
ofthe primary philosophies of the lua seminars was that ofunderstanding how balance of
Kii/Hina gnided not only attacks and counterattacks, but also embodiment ofboth the
masculine and feminine in each individual; indeed, the word "lua" itself means "duality"
238
or "two, second" (Kikuchi 1995:7-8). In this frame, the (masculine) lua complemented
the (feminine) hula. As'olohe (lua master) Richard Paglinawan explained:
Lua is in harmony with nature. You go with the flow of things, and you use it to
your advantage. Lua is fluid, like hula. Hula and lua at one time were almost one
and the same because men were the dancers. Lua was the "hard" part, hula is the
soft. So you could relate it to yin and yang, or Kii and Hina (Clark 1993:10).
Kyle credits much ofwhat he leamed about Kii/Hina balance, and his subsequent focus
on the Kii, to his experience in the pa lua. Importantly, the connection to the mana of Kii
comes through the physical embodiment and performance ofit in ritual and in training.
Kii is also the akua ofgovernance, productivity, work, industry, upland forests,
deep sea fishing, and, of course war. Unfortunately, the common rendering of the Kii,
and most notably his manifestation ofKiika'ilimoku, exclusively appends to him the
dubious distinction ofbeing "the god ofwar." As I mentioned in the last chapter, part of
the efforts of Ho'oku'ikahi was to refigure that colonial and missionary influenced
depiction. Steve Friesen, who interviewed Sam in 1991, wrote:
The organizer thought this was a misunderstanding ofthe religious issues, and a
product of western secular interpretation. Kuka'ilimoku is one of the 72 names of
the god Ku. It is one ofthe god's many aspects. Western historians have focused
on this militaristic aspect ofKu because of their own imperialist interests. But
Hawaiians, according to the organizer, worship the deities like Ku who care for
them. The full measure ofthe god's care is recognized in the full measure of
names, and must be understood in that broad context (Friesen 1992).
These tropes ofKii the war god are also used to change colonial subjects into savages and
the blood-thirsty male warriors. Just as Sam and Kyle sought to decouple the concept of
239
Na Koa from violence and war, so too have they sought to place Kii in the larger context
ofhis multitude ofbeing.
For the Hale Mua, the Kii represents the positive reinvigoration of men and their
ability to rebuild 'Oiwi society as a whole. Like the ceremonies at Pu'ukohola, those at
Pihanakalani and Haleki'i were born of a cultural nationalism that desired spiritual and
political uplift. When the Hale Mua conducts the ho'omana (worship, empower, give
mllIla to) of Kii, it ritualizes acts ofresistance and contestation to the perceived colonial
emasculation ofHawaiian men and the Hawaiian nation. As Kyle described it:
Because we're a male, masculine oriented group, our 'imi 'ana (searching) is
towards the masculinity ofthe culture because there's been so much femininity.
And again, not that femininity is bad; everything has its place and its time. No
laila (therefore), if you believe in dat, ifyou believe, everything has its place and
time, then it should hold true to da fact that there should be a place and a time for
the mana Kii. There's a time for healing, there's a time for building mana
(Nakanelua I999b).
The emphasis on building is important here, for if decolonization certainly entails
healing, as has been focused on in great detail by many individuals, it also demands an
active rebuilding ofnation, place, and hale.
While the project ofrebuilding the mana Kii is one grounded in a project of
cultural reclamation, there exists a danger ofreinscribing the Kii/Hina and male/female
dichotomies with qualities reflective ofthe dominant Western patriarchal society, namely
as strong/weak, dominant/submissive. Arguably, Hawaiian history has numerous
examples ofstrong and dominant women figures, and as such the Kii/Hina duality should
not be seen as absolute or even applicable in all situations. However, it has become an
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important way in which contemporary Hawaiians articulate notions and strategies for
returning balance and pono to society, especially within the Hale Mua.
On March 30, 2002, on Mahealani (the night offull moon) in the month of Nana,
the Hale Mua gathered at 4:00a.m. on Pihanakalani and Haleki'i heiau to open the
season ofKit We wore only our malo and kibei and carried the ihe and ne'e we had
made in February. As usual, we greeted each other with the honi, the traditional greeting
in which people touch noses and exchange breath. The weather forecast predicted a
thunderstorm, and many ofus remembered the torturous experience of 1998 that I opened
this chapter with. Nevertheless, nearly thirty braved the elements. Fortunately, akua was
on our side, for after a very light shower in the begiuning, no rain fell until we finished.
After assembling at the top, Kyle explained the order of the rituals as they would
be conducted. Kamana'opono would lead us down to the ocean at Paukiikalo and
conduct a pikai (ritual blessing and cleansing) ofour weapons. Each of us would dip our
mea kaua into the water and give it a name. We would then return to the top of the heiau
and wait for the sun to rise, at which point we would greet it with chant and pule.
Afterwards we would gather in the hale to drink 'awa, talk about our mea kaua, and
conduct an 'aikapu.
After all explanations were finished, Kyle gave the word and we formed a
kahului-a semi-circle formation-and offered the three prayers that we learn when we
become a part of the group. The first was a pule huikala (cleansing prayer) called "He
Mii" that ritually cleansed and separated us from any previous thoughts, anxieties,
preoccupations, or feelings that we might have brought with us to the ceremony. Then
we did "E Ho Mai," a chant that asked for knowledge to come down to us from above
and for the hidden wisdom to be revealed. Lastly we recited "Nil'Aumakua," a call to all
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ofthe ancestral guardians for knowledge, strength, wisdom, proper understanding, double
sight, and mana.
Kyle had us form two single me lines; individuals who did not have weapons held
torches to light our path. We made our way down the access road leading up to the heiau,
walked through street-lit Hawaiian Homes, crossed the Lower Waiehu Beach Road that
even at this hour had sporadic cars driving by, and climbed over and under a metal
barricade to access the kai (ocean). (We often joke about what sort of sight we must look
like to those few who are awake and either peek out of their windows at us or drive by,
probably half-drunk, from some party. Whether we are mistaken for the legendary
"Night Marchers" of ancestral spirits or seen as a bunch ofloony Hawaiian guys, I'm not
entirely sure.)
On the beach, Kamana'opono chanted to the Kii gods that would imbue our mea
kaua with mana. I dipped my ne'e and gave it a name that spoke ofthe duality that we as
Hawaiians experience when standing and living in a realm and time that is both of the
ancient night and the modem day. Such was our experience when we made our way back
to the top and stood on the heiau in silence. It was as ifwe are standing in a time in and
out oftime, a space that is both real and not. We shifted our weight on our tiring legs and
contemplated our goals for this year and our existence as Kanaka Maoli. We searched
the skies for hi)'ailona (signs) that we could use to interpret the past, present, and future,
ways ofknowing that could only be accessed through the na'au and the 'uhane. Dressed
in only a malo and kihei, we felt every breeze, drizzle, and temperature change. We
gazed at the street lights, black clouds, and the dark outlines of the other men. Dogs
barked, roosters crowed, and cars started. The scent of the ocean wafted up to us and
mingled with the smell of the damp kiawe wood whose thorns had pierced our feet. As
the sun came up, we watched the night tum to day. It was during its transition that we
242
called out our chants to greet this new time. As the colors brought life to the once
darkened po, we were once again confronted by the urbanity that has become Wailuku
town, and so we retreated to our hale.
Under the hale, our "'awa crew" (a small group ofmen surrounding the bowl and
running the ceremony) prepared the 'awa and served it to each man. When given his
'apu, each individual shared a story about his mea kaua and why he gave it the name he
did. Some related it to their own personal journeys and searches for identity. Others
spoke about the ways in which the weapon moved in their hands. Still others named it
after the physical attributes associated with their own bodies. Many of the older
members commented on how each weapon unfailingly takes on the shape and
characteristics ofthe man who shaped it; just as they were the physical manifestations of
Kii, they were also the embodiments ofour own 'ano (types, personalities, dispositions).
Sam, Kamana'opono, and [mally Kyle all took the opportunity to once again explicitly
state the purposes ofthe Hale Mua and the significance ofnecessity of men learning their
kuleana as Hawaiians and as men. This included being a good husband and father,
protecting and providing for one's family, and perpetuating the Hawaiian culture and
mana ofthe kiipuna. It was also important that men take up more active leadership roles
in the community and work to kii i mua-thrust our people forward. Kyle laid out the
upcoming year's activities that each of the men had committed to by virtue of their
sharing in the 'awa and giving their word before the akua. Once Kyle finished his 'apu,
the formal part ofthe ceremony ended and the ritual foods were brought out. Now was
the time to both feed and consume the male akua that would empower us, and be
empowered by us, through feasting oftheir kinolau. Casual talk ensued and the 'awa
bowl was reopened for social drinking. Many of us stayed drinking 'awa and talking
story until about 12:30 in the afternoon. Another moon, another season of Kii rising.
243
Fig. 52. Kiikona Lopes and Jacob Kana, Hale Nanea, April 2002. Photo by author
Figure 53. Practice at Hale Nanea, April 2002. Photo by author.
244
Ho'oikaika kino: strengthening and embodying identity
Ifthe Wehe Kil gives primacy to the ritual aspects of identity fonnation, and in
specific the project ofrevitalizing the mana Kil, the weekly meetings focus on training
the bodily movements and engagements that instantiate that mana in action. These
practices usually go from 5:30-8:00 p.m. on Wednesday or Thursday. Since many of the
members ofthe Hale Mua are also in the Royal Order, we train at Hale Nanea, a
beachfront property in Kahului owned by the Royal Order and comprised of an old
meeting/party hall and an open grassy area (which was recently seeded and manicured by
joint members ofthe Hale MUa/Royal Order).
Like all other activities of the Mua, practices are circumscribed by pule that
produce the experience of lirninality. The opening pule function to separate the men
from the "outside" world and create a ritual space for the absorption ofknowledge and
experience. There is also another dimension ofembodied practice that contributes to the
demarcation ofthe time and space as a specifically Hawaiian one, and that is in the dress.
During practice, many men will go shirtless and/or wear a pa'il, a long piece ofmaterial
that is wrapped around the waist in a similar fashion as the pareo and lawalawa ofother
Polynesians. To wear the pa'il during practice adds the creation of a Hawaiian cultural
experience in and out of the structures of American society in similar ways as the
donning ofmalo and kihei during the ceremonies. For most ofthe men, this is an
important expression oftheir Kanaka identity.
The workouts are USUally done with the weapons and begin with stretches and
warm-ups, and then shift to a more a vigorous routine ofho'oikaika kino ("body 
strengthening," exercises) that is based primarily in hula and lua moves. Each exercise
carries the name of a wave, which itself is a carry-over from the lua philosophy ofnalu
(waves) and fluidity. When the nalu workout is finished, the group practices various
245
hula, ha'a
7
, and martial sets that are more specifically aimed at developing proficiency
with the weapon; many ofthe moves to these routines are embedded in the basic
exercises done and the beginning ofpractice. The last part ofpractice usually ends in
"sporting" contests ofkakiila'au (sparring), hiikoko (wrestling), or '0'0 ihe (spear
throwing and dodging); the "sport" (which is how I describe it but not how others do),
depends upon the weapons and workouts of any given year. Over the years, this aspect
has gotten more intense, and in 2002 we trained with helmets, gloves, and other
protective padding as we went into full contact kiikala'au with padded ihe and ne'e. At
the end ofthe practice we gather again, close in pule, and honi each other. Afterwards,
people will make announcements, discuss upcoming events, evaluate the workouts, and
just talk-story about anything else that comes to mind.
Ho'oikaika kino primarily works to achieve pono by strengthening the body,
mind, and spirit. Undoubtedly, American ideals of beauty and health shape the ways in
which preoccupations/obsessions with the body are articulated by Hawaiians today,
especially since the dominant sexualized images ofKanaka men and women in the tourist
industry are those that conform with Western standards of slim but shapely physiques,
straight hair, and facial features that are "Polynesian" but mixed with those ofAnglos
and/or Asians (Desmond 1999; Trask 1993b).
Yet for 'Oiwi (as is the case with many other indigenous peoples), the colonial
experience ofdecimation from diseases and epidemics continues to attack the cultural
and psychological immune system ofthe Kanaka body politic and far outweighs any
concern over appearance. The colonization ofthe body manifests itself not only in
culturally defined regimes of sexuality and propriety, but also in more viscerally
distressing ways through obesity, diabetes, cancer, and other health-related problems;
these often culminate in high mortality and suicide rates, which for Hawaiian men
246
approaches epidemic proportions (Blaisdell and Mokuau 1994). Likewise, the structures
oflate-capitalism and Hawai'i's dependence on imported foods and goods maintains this
bodily malaise to such a point that for many Hawaiians dis-ease has become something
endemic to their culture. Thus, as Marshall (1999) argues, the project of decolonization
can only proceed by recovering and healing the body.
In the Hale Mua, as in other Hawaiian health organizations that Marshall
describes, the health ofthe Hawaiian people includes as its core component the health of
the culture, and as such many ofthe activities are culturally based and include a
metapragmatics of healing the nation through healing the culture, identity, and soul ofthe
". .
"sick" people. In addition to the process ofhealing, the more aggressive projects of anti-
colonial and nationalist resistance require assertions of strength and power, both
culturally and bodily; thus the emphasis on rebuilding. For the men in the Hale Mua,
these are gendered as inherently masculine and essential for the reclamation of Hawaiian
masculinity.
Against the long colonial history and neo-colonial present, Kyle refuses to play
the role ofthe victim and contests the discourse of the dead, dissipated, and emasculated
Native male. He urges men to stand up and take charge oftheir own health. He speaks
with a conviction and authority that earns the men's respect not only because he is
articulate, but also because he literally embodies those qualities, ethics, and attributes that
he urges others to take up. Years oftraining in sports, military, martial arts, fire
department, and working in the taro patches have given Kyle a muscular and tarmed
physique. Through his training as a fire fighter and other training in health care, he had
taken as his kuleana the health and welfare ofHawaiians on the personal, professional,
political levels; in fact, when he was a member of the sovereignty organization Ka Lahui
Hawai'i, he was in charge ofthe Maui caucus's Department ofHealth (Niikanelua 2002).
247
He wears also a number oftraditionally designed kiikau that represent his ancestral
lineage and visibly mark his body as a Hawaiian one. This becomes even more
impressive when one discovers that Keone Nunes, a practitioner who uses rituals,
protocols, and hand-made tools and needles, placed these markings on Kyle in a manner
that was exponentially more painful and meaningful than if Kyle received his ubi
("covering") at a tattoo parlor with a machine.
Though very little of this personal history is explicitly stated (I only discovered
this after four interviews and six years oftalking-story with him), his composure,
presence, and bodily habitus all exude a mana that is localized on his body8. During
weekly practices, he usually wears his pii'IT and goes without a shirt. Through his
graceful and seemingly effortless movements during the most intense exercises, and
through his skillful manipulation ofthe various mea kaua he has mastered, his display of
embodied mana inspires me (and others) to work harder, both to achieve the level of
fitness that he has and also to match his intensity, strength, and passion.
In an introductory talk to the new members at the first meeting in 1999, Kyle laid
out the reasons for engaging in the workouts (see chapter 7 for more). As usual, he wore
his pii'IT, as did a number of the older members who also had their ihe. Perhaps because
this was the first practice ofthe year and he knew there would be a number ofnew
members, he also had on his Hale Mua shirt, a burgundy red polo top with the sign of
Hoaka (the crescent moon) on the right breast. He first explained that the Hale Mua is
"about disseminating information" and "uplifting Hawaiians as a whole." He then spoke
about the importance of our ho'oikaika kino in this process. He then used historical
narrative as a context by pointing out that explorers had described our kITpuna as the
"most amazing physical specimens they had ever seen." In comparison, Hawaiians of
today present a different picture, one ofpoor health and death. He then asked:
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How come? How come? And, could it be dat we not taking care of ourselves,
physically, enough? And remembah, nevah have cars befo', so our kupuna used
to walk every place dey went. We not working wit' ouwah bodies like we used
to. A lot of us are sitting behind a desk...So what we believe is dat we need to
address dis...
So, if we take care our bodies, feed our bodies good, and, and we feed our minds.
And dis is da addah ting, we have a lot of infonnation. [discusses books by 19
th
century Hawaiian authors Davida Malo, Kamakau, 'I'i, and Kepelino] We not
proclaiming to be da source, kay. Da Hale Mua is not about being da source of all
dis information. What we doin is tellin' you guys, it's outdeah. Whatevah you
like, take 'em, it's yours. You just gotta pick 'em up, put 'em on yo' ti leaf, and
eat 'em. Dat's all you gotta do. It's up to you; it's up to each and every one of us
to do dat (Niikiinelua 1999a).
He also took advantage of the opportunity created by my filming to address not only the
men there, but a larger public as weIl:
Ifyou wanna stop eatin' the spam and vienna sausage----(tuming to look at the
camera) and da's right, I don't care if you guys getda franchise on spam,you
guys killin' us wit' dat shit!-it's up to us.
Kyle then went on to describe the various dances, martial sets, and especially the spear
throwing sports that we engage in. By drawing upon the model ofthe hale mua and
relating the philosophies and practices that occurred there to our present-day context, he
pointed to the multiple levels that our training would address.
What we'I1 be doing is we'I1, gonna pi'0, gonna arch back (he bends backward
slightly with hand and arm going back over his shoulder) to da pO .•. [explains kii i
muaceremony)...and it's in da haledat you learned how to become a male. Part
249
of learning how to be a male is learning how to defend yourself... That's what
we're going back to. Going back to da basics ofda men's house, leaminghow to
deal, if, if.-with an implement like a spear, okay.
Now, this can be metaphorical...if physicallyyou can defend against the spear, it
should serve you intellectually. Can you defend yourself intellectually, from the
spears that have been cast at you, in your lifetime, as a Hawaiian. How many·
times have you sat there quietly and listened to, "Stupid Hawaiian. Lazy
Hawaiian." (pause) How many times did you sit there quietly, and maybe you
kinda pretended like you wasn'tHawaiian...So, if we do dese tings physically, we
can set to form in the subconscious, yeah, what we can bring to light in the
consciousness. We can learn how to defend ourselves against these realspears,
and then studying the intellect, yeah, we can defend against the intellectual spears.
And when you put da two together, you can be able to defend against da spiritual
spears dat are thrown at you. And there are spiritual spears out there, and we
gettin' hitwit' 'em left and right, some ofus don't even know it...Can you defend
against dat? Dar's what we plan to do heah.
Kyle's philosophy ofho'oikaika kino seeks to rebuild the Hawaiian body and the people
through exercise, eating traditional Hawaiian foods like poi, and avoiding the fatty fast
foods. Yet above dietary health and looks, Kyle's project is more concerned with the
larger process of identity reformation and cultural reclamation. Thus the development of
bodily health is intimately tied to, and indeed becomes the mediator of a larger mental
and spiritual development as Hawaiian men.
This includes a healing ofloss and pain that have been visited upon men's bodies
through social, political, spiritual and physical violence. The problem of violence among
Hawaiian men and unusually high incarceration rates has long been a topic of great
250
concern in the Kanaka Maoli community. One ofthe most promising aspects ofthe re 
emergence ofthe lua, the Nli Koa groups, and the Hale Mua is their potential to provide
men a place in which violence born ofhurt, pain, and lack ofcultural identity can be
transformed into a more productive form of energy. Kyle personally experienced this
when he first met Sam in 1991. Sam constantly challenged Kyle with the question, "A
'oe maoli? Are you real?" Kyle recalls:
And it gets to da point, where, you know, it antagonizes you to da point where
you like fight 'em, you know. This oldman is just grindin' your gears and
pushin' your buttons till you like fight, you know! Of course maybe you're just
so pissed off and angry at yourselfdat you wanna take it out on somebody, which
is vel)' indicative of Hawaiians. You jus' get so mad at some--something,
normally yourself, yeah, you gotta take it out on somebody else, right, you sure da
hell can't take it out on yourself. Maybe dat's what we doin', maybe dat's why
we get so damn sick half da time wit' all dis diabetes and shit (Niiklinelua 1999b).
Rather than continue this self-destructive cycle, Kyle seeks to harness, transform, and
build on it through the lua, martial arts, and dance. As I have argued above, the use of
pule and rituals at the beginning and ending ofpractice create an experience ofliminality
and communitas--acceptance by other men not based on toughness but on one's
individuality as a fellow Hawaiian man-that helps to facilitate this process of
transformation and reconstitution. As men ritually engage their bodies in these practices,
their physical, mental, and emotional states are potentially transformed through healing
and strengthening. As Kyle states:
it makes men feel really good-Nodifferent, no different from the formation of
the karate dojos, no different from shoto-kan, or kung-Cu, or anything like that. It
just, it's a way for men to develop their physical prowess, and their thinking
251
abilities, their strategic abilities, to practice their leadership roles, and, all dat, all
dat men's stuff, you know (Nakanelua 1999b).
Indeed, most ofthe men are immediately "turned on" by the prospect oflearning
about Hawaiian culture and history through the lua or engaging in some form ofmartial
art. Yet when hula is mentioned, some ofthe men become hesitant. As I mentioned
above and in chapter 3, the hula has become associated with femininity and seen as a
feminine form. Moreover, men often associate hula and hula haIau with women and
mahu (effeminate and gay men), and so define their masculinity against the femininity
they see as embodied in the hula, the dancers, and the kumu (instructors), many of whom
are perceived as mahu (in the case ofmales). Keenly aware ofthis, Kyle tries to
"reinvigorate the mana Ku" in the hula, often by highlighting the martial aspects. This
worked extremely well for Puka Ho, whose first practice was on that same day that Kyle
gave his talk in 1999. Puka remembered:
first time we had to dance one hula, I was like, "Oh, brah, I no dance hula!" I
mean, notin' wrong wit' hula, but dat's not fo' me, eh. But when I seen them
doin 'em, I was like, "Whoa, dis buggah get plenty martial moves," I could see in
em, eh. And dat's what wen' kinda attrac' me to dat. When I came home, I
tought about it, I said, "Eh, dis is just like, how, like karate dey get katas, yeah.
And, you know, hula had a lot ofmartial moves, eh. I was like, oh, dat's what
kinda wen' keep me thirsty, keep me coming back fo' more. Oh okay, I mean I
no like dance da hula, but oh, dat buggah look like one good technique or
sometin' (Ho 2002).
Similarly, Kyle takes creative license with older hula that had always been seen as
masculine but in more sexualized ways, as was the case with the Moloka'i Ku'i. Kyle
learned the dance when he was in intermediate school at Maryknoll, where he performed
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it as a hula ho'oipoipo (courting dance) in which the boys would chase the girls across
the stage. In the Hale Mua, he changed it to reflect more ofthe tough and aggressive
positioning that would speak to other men:
Ifyou talking about, you know, trying to impress a woman, then your movements
are, you know, kinda gallant, yeah, and prancing, jus' like one show horse or one
fighting chicken, you know how rooters fluff deah feadahs and stuff Ii' dat, yeah.
Vel)' mating dance oriented, you know, vel)' much so...But, it was interesting,
because, if you changed your inside, from trying to impress a woman, to trying to
impress something upon a man, and ofcourse, it's not of an ipoipo (lovemaking)
nature. You know, when you--if you're a man, and you wanna make an
impression on a man, whedah it be a boss, or a coach, or guys on a team you dat
you wanna be a part of and stuff, you know, den you gotta crank up yo'
testosterone, you know, you gotta show up yo' balls, you gotta be deah. So, when
dat 'a'ano (attitude) comes out ofyou, yeah, yo' attitude changes, your body
motions change, you tend to stiffen up at different points along da way. A
different emphasis on da hand....your mana is projected is different (Nakiinelua
1999b).
Part ofthe concerted effort to redefine dance is because of the appropriation ofthe
hula as a commodity spectacle and the consequent performance of it as such. This
includes a cultivation ofhomogeneity ofbody types, appearances and movements in
groups that perform in tourist venues and in local competitions. Against this, Kyle seeks
to reclaim hula as a practice done for us, not for tourists or others. The goal for the hula
is not to give the most polished presentation, but to retell and relive mo'olelo through
dance. Thus he allows for people's individuality to come forth through the dance by
letting people improvise during the dances or execute particular moves in their own style.
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Though all the men wear the same colored malo in the performances, the make up of
body types and sizes are very heterogeneous and would certainly eam very few points in
competition. Thus in an interview one day, he proclaimed (once again to my camera and
thus to you readers):
Kyle: Oh we dance hula too. Nothing like you guys evah saw, but, it's pretty
interesting.
Kiiwika: Could you speak about those hula?
Kyle: Yeah, um...we come from a culture that, was, nothing was written. So
history was in the song, history was in dance, history was in the prayer. And, the
commemorations ofthings that happened, are brought forth, are brought back to
life, are relived, yeah relived, through, through the dance....
We thought, (pause)why not, for once, in a very long time, why not do a hula
kiikiilii'au, or, I believe it was called a pahua, yeah, a spear dance was called a
pahua...why not do a pahua with a traditional Hawaiian ihe. So we set out, we,
we manufactured traditional Hawaiian ihes, justlike da ones they get in Bishop
Museum, some of 'em even bettah (shoots the camera a "stink eye" look and
pauses looking down)...So we made 'em, and den we danced wit' it. And dat was
. it. No great show, no grand performance in front of throngs ofpeople (pause) just
for ourselves. Just to say, we participated in it, just to say we did it, and it was
done, it can be done, just for ourselves. It still is done today, it could be done
tomorrow.
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Conclusion: challenges
Kyle was not entiiely forthcoming in his statement that there is no show in our
activities, for the ritual performance of the dance at Pu'ukohoHi is certainly done in front
of an audienCe. Yet his main point about whom these activities are done for is valid: the
ritual performance of dance is meant to bring about a transformation ofthe self by
reconnecting with history and with the fellow performers of that collective mo'olelo. As I
mentioned in the chapter I, the visibility of Hawaiian male bodies played a central role in
the effectiveness of the Lele i ka Po. As men jumped from the cliff, the sight oftheir
bodies falling into the ocean from the land became a powerful bodily enactment of
identities in transition, a performance that is also carried out in the telling of life stories
that speak ofmultiple life-transitions and returns (next chapter). Importantly, the ritual
and embodied processes ofthe men work to further the goals of cultural and political
transformation in the Hawaiian community, a society that is itself undergoing important
changes and transitions.
Kyle's challenges to the world ofhula and the Bishop Museum are more than just
criticisms ofinstitutional structures; at a very base level, it is a critique of the modalities
ofrepresentation and ways ofthinking about Hawaiian culture and history that pervade
our society today. These ways ofknowing about Hawai'i have relegated the Hawaiians
to the dead, frozen, static past, and produced images of feminine/feminized bodies that
are sold globally. They also ignore the continued presence of men and women who seek
to recapture these identity practices as a strategy for healing and revitalization. As
sovereignty activists and political organizers continue to strive for self-determination and
the return ofHawaiian lands, others search out ways ofreconnecting with mO'olelo and
with akua in order to rejuvenate themselves for the daily struggles they must engage in as
Kanaka 'Oiwi. The Hale Mua seeks to provide this for Hawaiian men, if only for the
255
brief periods of gathering in the company of other men who seek to cast their people
forward in body, mind and spirit.
Yet Kyle's challenges to society are met with a number of challenges and
unresolved issues that the Mua must grapple with on its own. First, we need to think
seriously about what sorts of new gender dynamics we create, and which ones we are
seeking to implement. Feminist critiques ofcultural reclamation, nationalism, and men's
movements emphasize the importance ofrecognizing that colonial structures of
domination that have disempowered indigenous people as a whole are the same ones that
have oppressed women and gay men (Hoskins 2000; Messner 1997; Trask 1984; 1993a).
Thus any attempts by colonized men to reclaim power and authority must not sacrifice
the rights of women and sexual minorities in the name of "tradition." Messner (1997)
notes this dynamic at work in a variety ofmen's movements in the United States (e.g.,
mythopoetic men's movement, Promise Keepers, Million Man March), which are often
backlashes against feminism. Many participants utilize an essentialist discourse to define
identity in terms of differences between men and women as based in biological fact and
the need to reclaim traditional (patriarchal) roles that have been lost. In racialized
masculinity politics, the struggle against race and class oppression often supercedes the
struggle for gender equality. Women ofcolor inevitably suffer most. Messner argues
that the transformative potential ofmasculinity politics is severely limited in so far as
many ofthe movements end up working to reconstitute patriarchy (1997:73).
Although the Hale Mua is not itself a "movement," some ofthe dynamics in the
groups described by Messner resonate with the Mua. Like other men's movements, the
Hale Mua can be seen as a reaction not only to colonialism, but also feminism. Many
observers have noted the visibility of strong Hawaiian women leaders in the sovereignty
movement. As I discussed in the introduction, Trask contrasts men's participation in the
256
state structures ofpower to their absence and women's dominance in the sovereignty
movement:
While Hawaiian men have come to achieve their own place in the legislature and
in the governor's office, Hawaiian female leadership has come to the fore in the
sovereignty movement. Of course, this is not to say there are no male leaders in
our movement. But they are not the most visible, the most articulate, nor the most
creative. By any standard-public, personal, political-<lUr sovereignty
movement is led by women.
Part of the reason for this is simply colonialism: men are rewarded, including
Native men, for collaboration. Women's role, ifthey are to be collaborators, is
not to wield political power but to serve as an adjunct to men who do. Thus, our
Native men have something to sell out for, our Native women do not (Trask
1993a:121).
Trask was correct to point out the preeminence ofwomen in the movement when she
wrote this essay. A decade after her writing, women are still prominent figures.
However, a number of men have also emerged as important figures in the sovereignty
movement, particularly among those advocating independence, which has come to
overshadow the nation-within-a-nation model. Yet Trask's analysis of men's privileged
access to power in the white world (Hawai'i's party politics) remains valid. The problem
with her assertions is that in describing the men as invisible, inarticulate, uncreative, and
sell-outs, she engenders a new discourse ofemasculation that also renders male leaders
ineffectual in the realm of cultural politics. Moreover, this discourse creates resentment
among men who have no desire to hear how poorly they are performing as Hawaiian
men. Such an ideology evokes a masculinist discourse that goes beyond the level of
"men need to do their part" to the extreme of "men need to reclaim their rightful places as
257
the leaders and women need to take a back seat." This response essentially amounts to an
assertion ofpatriarchy and reproduces the same structures ofoppression and hierarchy
that disempower individuals along the lines ofrace, class, gender, sexuality, age, body,
and so forth.
I spoke with Dana Naone Hall (2002), a leading wahine activist on Maui, on the
topic of male leadership in the Hawaiian community. She noted that while women have
been more prominent activists, men have been dominant in the "establishment"
organizations of government and the Hawaiian trusts. As such, their investment in "the
system" precludes too much participation in the movement since they have more to lose.
The same goes for men who do not enjoy political power but need to support families
through county, state, or federal jobs. She went on to add that this investment in the
system leads them, and many other Hawaiian men and women, to partition their lives into
separate spheres such as the "Hawaiian/culture," "work," and "family" instead oftruly
integratingthem all (hence the disjunction and discomfort of "burning up on re-entry").
In other words, people invested and dependent on the capitalist system we live in can
only take the effort ofHawaiian decolonization so far, and only as far as will not impinge
greatly on their Western lifestyles and jobs. Kekuni Blaisdell, a leader in the
independence movement, has also noted that many fonner activists have become
dependent on the system for their livelihoods, and subsequently have not participated as
fully since (Kelly 2003). These are all important issues that all Kiinaka who seek to bring
about social and political change must deal with in very real ways.
The issue of class and education becomes salient here. What are the constraints
that enable certain individuals and not others to participate? Like many ofthe men
described in Messner's review ofmen's movements, most ofthe men in the Hale Mua
enjoy a more or less comfortable middle-class lifestyle and have a decent if not high level
258
ofeducation (there are a few exceptions though). Yet the very ones who could most
positively benefit are the ones who are absent-the lower working class Hawaiians who
need the psychological and social support the most, the same individuals that have done
poorly in the educational system.
Finally, the issue of gender or sexual non-normativity is rarely raised but presents
an important issue for a group claiming to be established for allHawaiian men. Can
transgendered or transsexual men fmd a place in the group? What ofheteronormative
men who do not identity with the "tough-guy" masculinity that is fostered in the group
but are very interested in the chanting and conduct ofrituals? I asked a number of men if
they thought that miihii would fit in. Most ofthem were just stunned at flIst by the
question, having not thought of it previously. Most of them said that as long as he carried
his own and did everything else, then it was fine with them; yet most of the guys
rationalized it on the basis that miihii are also known to be tough scrappers and canfigh~.
These are all questions that we need to address as we think about the role of the
Mua in the Hawaiian community. Perhaps this is not the place for different articulations
ofmasculinity and culture. Ifthat is the case, it is important we understand the specific
limits and dynamics as we move into different "realms" ofbeing and acting. I have
personally grown immensely from my participation in the group, but I have also not been
able to reconcile many ofthese complex issues that I have raised. Yet in the very process
ofresearching and writing the dissertation, I discovered new possibilities and
problematics ofdecolonization as my own personal mo'olelo became intertwined with
those of others. It is there that I see the most important contributions ofthe Mua to
projects ofreclaiming self and community.
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ENDNOTES
I The Pu'ukohola Heiau National Historic Site hosted a cultural festival since its opening
in the mid-1970s. I discuss this in more detail in chapter 4.
2 Protests over this resulted in the powerful repatriation movement and revitalization of
cultural practices of caring for the iwi kiipuna (Ayau 1995; Ayau and Tengan 2002).
3 Wende Marshall was conducting field work in Wai'anae at the time and conducted
interviews with staff members and men who participated in the program, which she
discusses in her dissertation (Marshall 1999:262-285).
4 Cliff does not write his name with an 'okina in Alakai, so I do not add one. It is
however the same word as alaka'i.
'For more on the Hawaiian division ofthe year, see Malo (1951:30-36,141-159;
1987:23-26,95-105). [Those reading the Emerson translation (Malo 1951) should know
that he took a great deal of liberty in the translations and often mistranslates and neglects
to translate tenns. Likewise, those reading the Hawaiian reprint edited by Chun (Malo
1987) should be wary oftypos.] For a political analysis ofthe juxtaposition of Kii and
Lono in the year, see Kame'eleihiwa (1992:44-49).
6 Sam Ka'ai calls this weapon the "ne'e" (literally "move"), and Kyle has also called it a
la'au palau, which is a general name for a fighting club (Pukui and Elbert 1986:189).
Others have called it "ku'ia," which Pukui and Elbert (1986: 174) define as "Sharp,
pointed stick, dagger, spear."
7 Kaeppler defines ha'a as "a ritual dance performed as a sacrament on...heiau" that
accompanied texts and "would have had a standardized fonn that ideally was performed
without deviation" (since little frrsthand knowledge exists, she speculates); hula on the
other hand is defined as "formal or informal entertainment perfonned for a human
audience" and were "composed in honor ofpeople and places and conveyed this
infonnation in an indirect way, namely, through kaona, "veiled or layered meaning"
(Kaeppler 1995:32).
8 One important exception occurred after I had finished the first draft of the dissertation.
On May 4, 2003, an hour-long docnmentary entitled Skin Stories: The Art and Culture of
Polynesian Tattoo aired on PBS. Kyle and Keone were featured in the segment on kiikau
in Hawai'i. For Kyle's own story, see transcripts ofinterviews (much of which does not
appear in the video) at <http://www.pbs.org/skinstories/stories/nakanelua.htrnl>, where
he also talks about the Hale Mua. See also Chun (2003), which includes an impressive
photo ofKyle's kiikau.
260
CHAPTER 7
NARRATING UNAKA: LIFE STORIES, PLACE, AND IDENTITY
A Hawaiian man (about forty or fifty) with salt and pepper hair downed the beer
in his hand, picked up the microphone and sang with as much soul and passion as he
could muster at this hour of inebriation. Directly across him, a middle-aged Hawaiian
woman sat with hands clasped beneath her chin and gazed lovingly at him with eyes
glazed over from love and liquor. The University of Hawai'i football team had just won
their game, and Vili the Warrior had been jumping up and down in a mad frenzy in front
ofthe cameras when the manager ofAsian's sports Bar in Kahului, Maui turned offthe
game lind began the karaoke videos with its steady stream ofquasi-amateur actors
depicting scenarios that would best be un-acted. After the UH victory and eight or nine
beers each, most listeners and singers were in too good a mood to worry about how on- or
off-key the person with the mic was-good news not only for the Kanaka Casanova, but
also for me and Puka, who, if we were professional singers, would only be hired by the
deaf.
A few beers later Puka and I were in deep conversation about the Hale Mua and
how it has impacted him personally. I had already done a "formal" interview with him
and was planning on doing another one while I was back horne on Maui for a week, but
tonight Puka felt like opening up more than ever. Besides "the beer talking," I believe
much ofhis openness came from the fact that I had shown him that I would let him into
my life as much as I had asked to be a part ofhis and the others' in the Mua. The
seemingly minor gesture of inviting him and Holly (his wife) to join my friends and me at
Asian's for some drinks showed him that I saw our relationship as one extending beyond
the discursive walls of the Hale Mua, and certainly past the bookends of my dissertation.
261
The last time I was home, Puka invited me to hang out with him and some ofthe other
guys in the Mua at this same bar; when I said that I'd be hanging out with some ofmy
other friends from high school instead, he said "What, you shame bring yo' friends hang
out wit' us?" and laughed jokingly. I too laughed and denied it wholeheartedly, but he
was not completely off-base. I had never really been in a situation where I was hanging
out with friends who knew me in the Mua and friends who had known me from
intermediate and high school.
It was not so much that I was embarrassed by either set of friends, but more about
the awkward double-situatedness I would find myself when called by name--"Kiiwika"
by Puka (and other Mua members) and "Ty" by my other friends on Maui. Like many
other 'Oiwi of my generation, I was not given a Hawaiian name and when told to use one
in my eleventh grade 'Olelo Hawai'i (Hawaiian language) class, I "Hawaiianized" my
baptismal name David (which is also the name ofmy Portuguese grandfather, my
uncle/godfather, and the root of my mother's name). Thus I took Kiiwika, a name that
still raises questions from family members who wonder at my usage of it. Though they
do not state so explicitly, I get the sense that some thiuk it is not my real name, or identity
for that matter. My friends from high school, who were the ones that invited me to go out
to Asian's with them, are also not used to calling me Kiiwika, though they never raise it
with me directly. At the university, where I have various associations with the Hawaiian
Language, Hawaiian Studies, Anthropology, Ethnic Studies, and the International
Cultural Studies programs, my name switches almost every time I walk into a new
classroom. On the other hand, very few people in the Hale Mua know that my first name
is Ty. As such, I had tried to avoid awkward situations by keeping my Hale Mua (and
other "cultural" activities), somewhat separate from my "personal" life. Neither is my
situation completely unique; many others like me have either taken up new Hawaiian
262
names or chosen to go by Hawaiian middle names later in life as their identification with
the Hawaiian culture became stronger. Kanaka poet Puanani Burgess (1989), who was
given three names (English, Japanese, and Hawaiian) at birth, writes, "Puanani is my
chosen name,! my piko name connecting me to the 'ilina/ and the kai and the po'e
kahiko-!my blessing; my burden;! my amulet; my spear." It is my own embodied
liminality, a strange sense ofin-between-ness that some describe is the condition of
"living in two worlds," though I'm not sure it's two worlds orjust one very confusing
world.
Yet the net result is that despite all ofthe research I have done with the Mua and
the years I have participated, few people know much about me outside ofthe practices
and ceremonies. A problem that Puka said would disappear "if you came out ofyour
shell more often." Puka and the others in the Mua had opened their homes to me and
shared the most intimate details oftheir lives, and for the most part I had not returned the
favor in kind. Thus I finally decided to get "real" and exhibit the same honesty and
openness I have been shown. So we talked about everything, from Puka's childhood to
my time spent at Dartmouth College. He also told me about how he had recently averted
a bar fight because he had learned from the Hale Mua that that type of situation does not
need to be the norm. My other friends Jay, Jen and Rob talked story with Puka and Holly
in ways that local people do normally, and we all drank and sang until the early morning
hours. Most ofthe conversations are a blur, the stories fragmented in the beer-filled
memory drums. Yet the details are less important; what mattered most was that the
sharing of stories and good times was real, and I became closer to all ofmy friends that
night. Maybe the issue offiguring out which name to use when is not an issue at all.
****
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Mo'olelo: life stories in succession
In this chapter I focus on the way that the men find and/or create connections with
each other, the land, the ancestors, and the larger Hawaiian Ialmi through the sharing of
mo'olel<r-life stories that are fragments ofnarrated life experiences. Life stories
provide a very powerful vehicle ofreflection on one's own personal subjectivity and how
one is a part of a larger collectivity shaped by culture, gender, race, class, and place. As
with the larger discourses ofmo'olelo as "historical narrative," such as the mo'olelo of
Pu'ukohola (chapters 4 and 5), Kanaka 'Oiwi Maoli use mo'olelo of life stories as
"cultural tools" (Wertsch 2000) to "create meaning within a social ecology ofmeanings"
(White 2000:498). I look at the occurrence oflife narration in two main contexts: those
produced in interviews, and those given in a large group discussion in 1999. I argue that
through the telling and hearing of these life stories, the men come to know, and enact,
their identities as members ofthe Mua and ofthe larger liihui Kanaka Maoli-nation of
real people.
I became aware ofthe importance of mo'olelo when I first joined the group in
1997. After our Wednesday night practices, people who had time would usually stick
around and "talk story." Boggs describes talk story as a communicative event that is
usually done in Pidgin (Hawai'i Creole English) and "involves a search for, and
recognition of, shared feelings" and solidarity that is accomplished through a number of
verbal routines such as "recalled events, either personal or folktales, verbal play, joking,
and conversing" (Boggs, et al. 1985:7). Ito (l999:l2)writes:
Talk story is a relaxed, rambling, sometimes intense commentary or
conversation...The accuracy of details...is less important than enjoyment ofthe
social interaction. The point oftalk story is not an accurate transfer of
information but a social exchange, affective enjoyment of one another's company.
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As Ito (1999:9) notes, the sharing of life stories in talk story sessions among her
Hawaiian "lady friends" living in Honolulu during the 1970s were fundamentally
emotional exchanges that represented "the heart of Hawaiian culture" and
reaffirmed/reproduced the ties of affect that held together and defined Hawaiian
communities.
Like the Hawaiian families that Ito describes in her book, the Hale Mua maintains
its "ties that define" through the sharing of affect rich life stories in a variety of contexts.
The guys ofthe Hale Mua would regularly talk story after practice in ways that were
common to any social gathering; and like the story I opened with, it was often done in
more typical settings of "having a few" after the workout. In addition to this, a similar
but more formalized talk story occurred at the end of any group endeavor, i.e., the end of
a spear-making workshop, the last day ofPu'ukohoHi, or at the final meeting ofthe year.
Through the telling of their mo'olelo, the men would situate their participation in the
Mua in the context oftheir own lives and speak ofhow they grew personally through
their participation in the group project. In so doing, they create an opportunity for other
members to relate through shared experiences. All ofthese speech events bore a strong
resemblance to one another and led me to pay close attention to the ways that mo'olelo
work. The new members who are unfamiliar with the group's routines become socialized
not only through the process of watching and learning, but also by hearing and feeling the
stories of other men and finding points of commonality and shared emotional
understanding that serve as entrees for their own personal narrations. As most men are
used to "talking story" in similarly affective styles, the sharing of life stories flows
naturally from established forms ofdiscursive practice.
Mo'olelo, as fragments ofnarrated life experiences, also place speakers and
listeners alike in a succession ofpersonal, social, historical and spiritual events, and
265
thereby actively fonn individual and group subjectivities in the Hale Mua. Through the
mo'olelo, the men I interviewed both contextualize their participation in the Hale Mua
and actively work out issues of identity that extend into other areas of their life. As such,
I examine the ways in which the men articulate their reasons for joining, the timing in
their lives that this occurs, and the desires that preceded and serve as the context for their
subjective experiences in the Mua. In narrative practice individual subjectivities are
culturally organized (White 2000)-i.e., shaped by and feed back into a larger discourse
on Hawaiian masculinity and identity. During interviews, a number ofthe men spoke of
how they did not actually know what it was that was "missing" until they "found" it in
the Hale Mua. Like narration in other therapeutic settings such as Alcoholics
Anonymous (Cain 1991; Swora 2001) and religious testimonials of conversion to
Christianity (Stromberg 1993; White 1991), telling stories in the Mua does something for
ones sense of self, especially when perfonning identities in transition and transformation
(cf. Watson-Gegeo and White 1990). It is by learning to place their stories in a larger
succession oftalk that the men come to a new understanding of subjectivity.
One ofthe most important sites for this kind ofidentity work is in the 'awa circle
(see chapter 5) where men are obliged to "share their mo'olelo." This typically involves
a narration of their personal experiences, reflections, and evaluations ofthe topic being
discussed over the 'awa, usually a project or activity undertaken in the Mua. The men
usually express their gratitude to the other men of the Mua for their fellowship and
pledge their continued commitment to the group and to the larger struggles ofthe
Hawaiian people. They often speak in testimonial fashion of loss, struggle, survival, and
reclamation in their own lives as Hawaiians and as men, a project that is furthered
through the very telling oftheir mo'olelo. Many ofthese testimonial life stories follow
pattemsthat I argue are both learned and perfonned through communicative events such
266
as the 'awa circle. Men who enter the Mua hear a number of different mo'olelo about the
traditional role ofKanaka Maoli men in the 'aikapu period, the detrimental effects that
colonialism has had on the kane, the need to learn and reclaim their kuleana as 'Oiwi men
today. They in turn learn to tell their own personal mo'olelo as stories shaped by and
within these larger mo'olelo, at times repeating very closely some of the metaphors and
rhetoric employed in the "defining" mo'olelo. In sharing theirmo'olelo with the group,
they enact their subjectivity as one formed by the collective production and interpretation
ofknowledge, history, and identity. Importantly, the 'awa circle is a context-creating
practice that establishes a safe place for men to talk in a therapeutic fashion with others
they trust and feel comfortable with. Their mo'olelo often become testimonies, acts of
naming and identifying a historic pain that can only be transformed and healed by giving
voice to it.
The ceremonial protocols followed give this event an added spiritual, moral, and
pedagogical dimension that adds to the discursive authority ofthe speech, and thus
identity, produced therein. At the same time, these protocols establish a clear participant
structure (Phillips 1972) which members are meant to learn in order to be competent
members and speakers within the circle and within the group (and hence reproduce
aspects ofthe social organization ofthe group). The creation of hierarchies and
structures would at first glance seem to be antithetical to fostering egalitarian relations in
the Mua, which is one ofthe central characteristics ofthe group (Brenneis and Myers
1991). As I laid out in chapters 5 and 6, the creation of a distinctly egalitarian modality
ofsocial relations, what Turner (1969) calls "communitas," plays an important role in the
ritually recreating and maintaining specifically Hawaiian ties of community and
collective identities. The enactment of such relations in the sacred ritual space contrasts
the stratified, class-based relations ofproduction in the late-capitalist society of neo-
267
colonial Hawai'i, in which Hawaiian men are often at the "bottom ofthe ladder" as a
collective whole (at least symbolically). This same class system has also severed ties
between Hawaiian men of different class backgrounds, a situation that the Mua seeks to
remedy by re-aggregating the community ofHawaiian men in the ritual space ofthe Hale
Mua.
Thus the establishment of a new rank system might threaten to weaken the ties of
community among the members. Yet knowing ones "place" is precisely what many of
the men are looking for, and locating one in a hierarchy does just that while also giving
one the kuleana to speak and to participate in the collective production ofidentity
involved in the 'awa circle. It also identifies those who are most competent speakers as a
result of their age or their position in the group, thus providing the model of speaking to
those who are younger and less experienced in telling mo'olelo. The physical
environment and the protocols of who gets served and speaks in what order provide a
bodily and spiritual experience ofknowing one's place in a succession of ancestors,
people, and stories.
Out ofrespect to the sanctity ofthe 'awa circle, I have never taped any ofthe
discussions that have occurred there. However, I do have a record of a meeting I video 
taped in 1999 when a similarcommunicative event took place (some ofwhich I described
in the last chapter). The fact that this collective act ofproducing a succession of stories
occurs outside of the 'awa circle shows the importance of such an event in the formation
ofgroup subjectivity. It also happened to be the first time I began my uncertain
enterprise of "dissertation research/group documentation," and therefore provides an
illuminating view of some ofthe dynamics of doing "homework."
268
"You Belong Here"
"Let's gather round, for documentation purposes and to talk story," Kyle
announced. It was the middle of October in 1999, and we began the first meeting of the
Hale Mua after the Pu 'ukohola ceremonies just two months prior. The twenty or so men
who had been milling around in the large, open hall ofthe Kahului Armory, some with
ihe and others without, came together in a rough semi-circle in front of Kyle. Keoki, one
ofthe alaka'i ofthe group, jumped in front ofmy video camera and flashed me the
shaka
1
, much to the amusement ofthe others. I had just begun to research and write
about this group that I had joined in late 1997, and I asked Kyle if it was okay to video
tape our practice. Kyle, never one to shy away from a camera, gladly obliged (and then
some).
"This is Kawika Tengan. He's our local anthropologist," Kyle explained to the
quizzical looks shot to my video camera. The new guys, already trying to stay as far
back as possible, looked suspiciously at the camera or down at the ground as I turned
their way. A voice rang out, "What's an anthropologist?" Kyle replied, "An
anthropologist, yeah, so about four hundred yea's from now, your pulapula (descendants)
will be looking at dis video goin, 'Oh, I tink I know dat guy!'" On cue, Kamika caught
my attention from across the circle and turned around to give me the back-view ofhis
'Hawaiian Warrior' pose-arms cocked in the flexing position with one hand holding his
ihe out to his side.
Typically we would start off with the pule and then go straight into the exercises,
but today Kyle spoke for about forty-five minutes, laying out the details of what the Hale
Mua was in traditional society and what we are doing today. "Basically what we're about
is disseminating information." There were about six new guys there (and one new
anthropologist), so Kyle decided to describe just what we were, and he presented more
269
educational discourse about the Hale Mua then I had heard previously from him. At the
end ofthe night, one of the new guys, a kind ofrough-looking Chinese-Hawaiian man,
maybe in his early thirties, noticed that I had been running my camera almost the whole
night and asked, "What, you no do dis' stuff?" I told him that I usually do, but I was just
taping it tonight.
When Kyle called us all to come together to pani, we again broke our normal
routine by replacing the closing prayer and honi with introductions. Kyle started off,
"My name is Kyle Nakline!ua, I live Ha'ikii. Aaah, I work fo' da state." Each man
followed suit in the collective act of locating oneself through residence and work: Puhi
Gibson, Makawao, a Grace-Pacific mechanic; Paid Cabatingan, Wailuku, county worker;
CliffAlakai, Pukalani, Maui Medical Group; Jacob Kana, works for himself (everyone
roars in laughter); Regan Pelekai, Kahului, Anheuser-Busch (also a National Guard
member and the one who secured the building for our use this year); Wayne "Puka" Ho,
KIhei, county lifeguard (the one who asked me if I ever participate); and so on until each
person introduced himself, except for me. I guess the new guy to the left ofme, like
Puka to the right ofme, thought that I wasn't really part of the group, and so he
introduced himself before I had a chance to put down the camera. I began to sense the
"remove" that putting myself into the role of "participant observer" created, a harbinger
ofthings to come.
Kyle made some closing comments about the group, letting the new guys know
that there are others who weren't here tonight but come when they have time and that
everyone in the Mua is free to come and go as they please. Kamika raised the question of
eligibility for those who did not know, and Kyle told them to bring any friends or family
that may be interested, as long as they were Hawaiian. Ifthey were not Hawaiian but had
Hawaiian children that they want to pass this information on to, that was also okay; the
270
main thing was to be wary ofnon-Hawaiians (usually haole) who were just "niele"
(nosy). After a little bit ofgroup discussion regarding spear making, Peter Vanderpoel,
one ofthe younger members ofthe group, had something to say.
I've only been doing this for about a year and a half now, but, uh, I don't know if
you guys feel a little bit weird coming in here with a bunch of braddahs holding
spears (peter holds up the one in his hand, pretending to look threatening). Urn,
fIrst time I came out was four o'clock in the morning on the heiau (temple), and I
had to wear a malo (loincloth). It was cold, and uh, only good thing about it was
dark, and nobody could see my 'okole (butt). But uh, I've found that after coming
a bunch oftimes, this is the place for me; I mean, it may not be the place for
everybody. I paddled, I didn't getinto hula, I just wasn't into it, (Kawika
Davidson, standing next to him, nods and smiles) but this is a place where I could
explore my Hawaiianness. So if this is the place you want to be at this'time, by
all means, we're all here, to help you go forward.
Kyle asked if anyone had anything else, and Keoki Ki'jJj spoke up, "Just that my door is
open every day, Monday through Friday. Come any time. You like talk story, we talk
story." Martin Martinson, a retired Chief Master Sergeant from the Army wounded in
Vietnam, raised his hand, which was holding a book that was the translation ofSamuel
/
M. Kamakau's work (see intra for discussion on Kamakau). He began by talking about
his introduction to the Mua, which was through participation in the 1995 filming of
Ancient Waniors and the subsequent commemoration march of the Battle of Nu'uanu
(see previous chapter).
I got one thing to say. When I came into the group about fIve years ago, we made
a movie, that's how I got into the group. And I just retired from the military, and
uh, I was told if I wanted to "Come look around;" I said "okay." And the ftrst
271
thing we did, we had to walk from WaikI""k1 to Nu'uanu (some ofthe older
members laugh knowingly, and Kyle looks down and smiles) and by the time we
got there, it was cold. It was so cold, some ofthe guys, they actually locked up on
the spears, they locked up on the kahilis, and stuff Ii' dat, it was that cold. And as
things went along, I didn't come all the time, but there was always more
knowledge they had here, and that's why I'm always here-for the education.
Ab, ifyou asked me about five years ago about this guy (holding up book), I'd
say "Who da hell is that?" 'Cause I didn't know anyting, about Kamakau-I
always wondered how these guys got so smart. How come dey knew all dis stuff,
and I didn't know anything. And I started learning about all the books they were
reading, and everybody shares this information. And it doesn't matter what walk,
what background you have; it's that you're Hawaiian, so you come here to learn.
And that's why we're here, to share this information. And everyone's full of
information, you'd be surprised. You cannot say that, "Wow, nobody cares,"
cause I tell you what, I kept comin' in here sayin "What dat? What they talkin'
about?" And that's how you feel right now, I think, but it takes a while, and there
are guys that are older than Kale Boy and myself, I think (people start naming
others not present and jokes about some ofthe older ones there) But you be really
surprised. So don't feel, that you're gonna be left out. It doesn't matter who you
are, as long as you're Hawaiian you're invited. You belong here, ifyou want to
be.
"We'll get there," Kyle followed. "Wherever you guys wanna go we'll get there. We
have the canoe, we have the paddles, we have the trailah, we got da covah, we got guys
on addah islands too, yeah:' Then Kyle looked straight at the camera and said, "Dey stay
272
inside deah. Everybody say, 'howzit!'" and he pointed and smiled. I panned the group
and all the guys smiled, waved, and showed shaka.
Martin's talk and Kyle's invocation ofthe canoe metaphor elicited speech from
Carl "Kale Boy" Eldridge, a new addition to the group and now in his mid-50s. I met
Kale Boy (and found out we were related) in 1996 when I was doing "research" for my
undergraduate thesis that looked at Hawaiian cultural nationalism and identity formation
in the group that he was the president of-Hui 0 Wa'a Kaulua (Society ofthe Double 
Hulled Canoe) (Tengan 1997). The Hui was like the Hale Mua in many respects except
for two important points: there were women and haole members, with some in leadership
positions as well. Less than a year after I filed my thesis in Spring 1997, the group split.
Not wanting to sever relations with individuals I had befriended on both sides of the
divide, I withdrew completely, and tonight was the first time I had seen Kale Boy in a
couple of years. His presence at the meeting made me realize that gender had every bit as
much to do with that breakdown as race did, for it was primarily middle-aged Hawaiian
men who made up one ofthe factions. And as I came to find out, it was that division that
brought him here.
I've known Kyle for a while; we've gone through some problems that he's been
helping us with, Keoki been helping us with. It was ah, a hard thing for us to try
to get involved in a group like this, and you know other people try to huki (pull)
you there, and I talked to Kyle them before. The thing that really, really
impressed me about this group here, was not the martial arts, but the concept of
learning what we as Hawaiian men supposed to know as a matter of fact. That's
why I came here. I get a group of guys wanna come too, but they get Hawaiian
language classes at night, so kinda clash. But the whole concept of the Hale Mua
is why I'm here. The hard part for me is...all the knowledge and history we had
273
as small kids, it was taken away from us, us guys lost that...I older than most of
you guys in heah, but I still want to learn. I got a couple of grandsons that I want
to teach. The important thing about being here, is whatever I learn here, I goin'
share....A lot ofour kiipuna died with a lot ofknowledge, and it shouldn't have
been that way, cause now we gotta go look for it, and Ilookin. We shouldn't be
looking; it should be a matter offact. The last person in my family to know this
was my grandfather, but he nevah taught to his young sons, and it never came
down to us. So now I gotta go to a youngerman in order to learn dese things.
And I want that to be handed down to my grandchildren, and I want them to get it
from somebody in their family. So mahaIo to you, Kyle.
At this point, I could not hold myself back any longer, and I announced that I had
something to share. Peter took my camera and centered me in its sights as I introduced
myself formally for the first time to the new members. To everyone I explained that I
was filming this for two reasons: the first was for a paper I was writing (and at that point
it really was just a class project) and the second was to have a record ofthe things we're
doing in practice, something especially important for the three members of the Mua
(Kamana'opono Crabbe, Kiikona Lopes, and myself) that were living on O'ahu and
unable to fly over to Maui regularly. I also recounted my own identity voyages (one of
which included my work with the Hui 0 Wa'a Kaulua that I mentioned with a nod to Kale
Boy) and how I had never been in a group that has been so cohesive as this one (the pain
ofbeing unable to return to the Hui now fresh in my mind again). I also shared that being
in the Mua had allowed me to find my kuleana (rights and responsibilities) as a Hawaiian
man, and that I had also found a place in the company ofother Hawaiian men, something
that I had not really felt before. All ofthose things inspired me to write about and record
what we are doing so that hopefully other Hawaiian men would be inspired. Itwas also
274
my way ofgiving back something to the Mua that could be "handed down" to the
pulapula (descendants) of each member.
Three years later, I look at this tape and see faces that no longer appear (as well as
muscles too-at least on my body). Though much has changed, much has also stayed the
same--especially the telling ofmo'olelo (life stories). Oftentimes men will speak of the
ways that their participation in the Mua has provided something that was "missing" in
their lives, like Peter and myselfdid. Others like Martin and Kale Boy talk about the
"knowledge" and "education" they have acquired here that they could not find elsewhere.
Many ofthe stories take on a testimonial form in which individuals talk about the
experience of loss or disconnection they have felt as Hawaiian men and their subsequent
or current struggles ofrecovery and reclamation. In many ways, the narrative structure of
these stories resonates with those ofconversion narratives (Stromberg 1993; White
1991); both forms ofnarrative practice are potent identity markers and makers, especially
in their practice, performance, and enactment in large groups understood to be safe places
where like-minded and feeling persons will listen and empathize.
The project ofreclamation is accomplished in part by connecting to others
through the telling ofmo'olelo. This is accomplished when the other men in the group
respond through verbal and non-verbal cues (laughing, nodding and smiling),
commenting on the story (discussion of who was older than Martin), or by telling their
own stories that pick up and expand upon events or themes that others have mentioned; in
this way, a succession oftalk is created between men that affmns and validates each of
the individual stories their interlocutors. Individuals will highlight commonalities with
others in the group, either through generational experiences (Martin and Kale Boy did not
have an opportunity to "learn" until after retiring, and Kliwika Davidson understood
Peter's lack of interest in the hula) or shared experiences in the Mua. The latter often
275
involves overcoming an initial physical and/or emotional discomfort with the help of
others in the group in order to arrive at a deeper understanding of and comfort with one's
identity as a Hawaiian. Both Peter and Martin spoke ofenduring the "cold" of the heiau
and the march, which others laughed at because they too were there (I remember standing
on the heiau with Peter in the middle ofthe rain and wind thinking that 1 would never
come back again). Kale Boy told of the problems at the Hui and the regret he felt as an
older man "looking" for the knowledge that passed with his kiipuna. Yet through the
help ofKyle and the others who share the knowledge and the hypothermia, the group
moves "forward" and each person commits himself to helping and sharing with
newcomers and with family and friends outside; a perfect example was Keoki offering
the opportunity for anyone to come and "talk story." Thus the new members come to
know what it means to be a part of the Mua, and old members relive experiences that
have defined their participation and growth in the group. Finally, these feelings are all
reaffumed by the sentiment articulated by Martin-"You belong here."
A succession ofinterviews
When 1 first began interviewing individuals about the Hale Mua in 1999, my
questions were aimed at finding out how and why they joined the Hale Mua and what
role the Hale Mua has played in their life. Not surprisingly, many ofthe stories 1heard
were familiar to me because 1 heard them before in 'awa circles or in other group
dialogues. At the time 1 was not asking life history questions, but 1 found that almost all
ofthe men responded in ways that drew in personal histories, desires, and quests that
"brought" them to the Mua. Thus when 1 did interviews for the dissertation in 2002, 1
also included a life-history component in order to better understand the life stories that
276
came out when men talked about the Mua. Finally, I asked men their opinions on their
views ofthe "predicament" ofHawaiian men in general today.
Including those from 1999, I have recorded interviews with nineteen men.
Twelve were conducted at the homes ofthe interviewees, two at their work places, two at
parks, and three at my house. Two individuals had me interview them together; all the
rest were one on one. Most interviews lasted between one and two hours, the longest
going for three. I continued to speak with interviewees informally throughout the year
and would usually jot down notes when I was at my computer later on. Most of the
interviewees spoke Pidgin in the interviews, which is as much of an identity and class
marker for Hawaiians as is speaking Hawaiian language (Kirnua 1983; Tamura 1996),
especially for men (Osorio 2001 :362). Three people spoke standard English, and four
people interspersed Hawaiian with English and Pidgin. Fourteen men were video taped,
and five were audio taped; additionally, some men that were video taped were also audio
taped in follow-upint~iews.I initially video taped both for my own transcription
purposes and for use in a possible film piece that I thought would be more accessible and
interesting to the men themselves than a dissertation (this hunch was validated when I
presented the videos in June 2003 at Maui Community College). Once I got into the
actual transcription of interviews, extracting the audio from the video became too time
consuming, and so I audio-recorded the remaining five individuals and those that I did
fOllow-up interviews with.
The men interviewed represent about sixty percent ofthe active members in 2002.
Since the number of individuals varies from event to event and week to week, it is
difficult to give an exact number ofhow many men are active in a year; my
"guesstimate" is between twenty six and thirty. Of the nineteen I interviewed, sixteen of
these were "regulars," that is they attended some or most of the weekly practices and
277
participated in group activities; the other three were a bit different, and I will discuss
them below.
The sixteen regulars had been a part ofthe Mua for varying lengths of time, the
shortest being three years and the longest being since the inception of the group in 1991.
Each man could claim at least one other genealogical lineage in addition to Hawaiian;
most could claim two or more. Their ages ranged from thirty one to fifty eight, the
average being about forty four. (One exception was Sam Ka'ai, who was sixty four, but
his status as the group's elder puts him in a slightly different category). All of the men
were heterosexual, or at least said they were. Ten were married at the time, and six were
single or dating. Eleven had children, and three had grandchildren. The men were more
or less middle-class in terms ofoccupation and income, though most ofthem came from
a blue-collar working class family background. There were three fire fighters, three
county workers, one attorney, one financial administrator, one doctor, one retired police
officer, one retired store owner, one small business owner, one air traffic controller, one
tug-boat driver, one Maui Electric plant worker, and one Ph.D. candidate in psychology.
The issue ofplace was a complicated one, and indeed proved to be one ofthe most
spoken of issues for all of the men. At the time ofthe interview, fourteen lived on Maui
and two on O'abu. Six might be considered "Maui Boys," i.e., they were born and/or
raised in Maui, but only two had never really left the island for more than a year. The
other ten men were from O'abu (eight), Hawai'i (one) and the U.S. continent (one). Even
these numbers are misleading, though, for all of the men had experiences of travel,
movement, and relocation in some form, even the "Maui Boys." Ofthe total, only about
three grew up in rural areas, but all came to eventually live in town (on Maui) or in the
city (on 0'abu or the continent).
278
The three remaining individuals of the nineteen I interviewed had a somewhat
different relation to the group than the rest. Keawe'aimoku Kaholokula, a thirty three
year old Ph.D. candidate in psychology at UH, was born and raised on O'ahu and got
involved with the lua classes and Nii Koa on O'ahu in 1996. He always had ties to the
Maui group, especially through his close friendship with Karnana'opono Crabbe and his
relationship to his cousin Rick Bissen. Though Kyle had extended the invitation to
Keawe a long time ago, he only decided to join the Hale Mua in 2002. Kapono Chong 
Hanssen, a twenty one year old anthropology major at Dartmouth College (my alma
mater), was born and raised in Iowa and came to Hawai'i to research and reconnect in
2002. MyoId thesis advisor, who was Kapono's advisor, put us in touch. I tried my best
to help Kapono with his project and introduce him to people that I thought might help
him, and in the process I invited him to train with the Hale Mua and come to Pu'ukoholii
in August. Keao Nesmith, a thirty six year old Hawaiian language teacher from Kaua'i,
was teaching 'Olelo to Kapono and Ku'ulei (my wife) in the summer, and through them I
got to know him and so extended him an invitation come to Pu'ukoholii. With the
addition ofKeao, Kapono, Keawe, and Keawe's nephew Mana, there were about seven
ofus from O'ahu who went to Pu'ukoholii as part ofthe Hale Mua. The experiences of
Keawe, Kapono, and Keao in relation to the Mua are more limited than those of the other
sixteen I interviewed, and although their life stories shed a great deal of light on issues
surrounding educational projects, I do not use them in this chapter.
"Our local anthropologist"
Then there is me. This dissertation is as much about the Mua as it is about my
participation in the Mua. Likewise, most ofthe menI interviewed knew me primarily
through the Hale Mua, and so related to me as a fellow member. This presented me with
279
a number of issues, many of which have been discussed at length in what has now
become a sizeable literature on "native," "indigenous," and "halfie" anthropologies:
reconciling competing obligations to community and to academia; determining what level
of discussion and critique was appropriate; producing work that was accessible to
multiple audiences; encountering unforeseen constraints as an "insider"; and wrestling
with my own multiple positionalities and identities that also made me an "outsider" in
various ways (Abu-Lughod 1991; Fahim 1982; Jacobs-Huey 2002; Kanaaneh 1997;
Narayan 1993). All ofthe other guys knew I was doing my dissertation on the Hale Mua,
yet at the same time, most ofthe guys didn't know exactly what that meant other than I
would be keeping the "history" ofthe group. Some individuals were very invested in
seeing the project come to fruition, for as a written document it would be both more
legitimating to the group and serve as a tangible source ofinformation not only for
themselves and their families but for any other Hawaiian person interested. Others were
eager to sit down and tell their story to me because they never had a chance to reflect on
their lives and tell of their experiences to anyone else, let alone to someone who would
record it (cf. Myerhoff 1982). Others saw the interviews as an extension of the sharing of
mo'olelo in the Hale Mua, and so it was not a major issue for them. In the same vein, a
number of men shared stories that were meant to teach me a lesson about being a
Hawaiian man and what responsibilities I carry. Some ofthe older men told me how
proud they were of me, saying that I am doing what all young Hawaiian men should be
doing: getting an education, practicing the culture, and having a good family. Most ofthe
guys just wanted to help out in any way they could; that's what the Hale Mua was
established for, to help men go forward. Above all, they trusted me and were confident
that I would tell their story in a pono way.
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The multiple meanings, motivations, and obligations that were attached to
interviews and the on-going research almost paralyzed me when it came to writing it all
up. I have lost innumerable hours of sleep trying to reconcile my kuleana as an
anthropologist and as a member ofthe group. Trying to write for multiple audiences
inevitably leads to shortcomings by somebody's standards, especially my own. I have
endeavored to represent what I feel most truly represents the heart ofthe Hale Mua, but
the constraints oftime have prevented me from giving each individual his due attention.
Thus I was forced to make a strategic decision and,incorporate those fragments of
narrated life experience that would best add texture to the narrative I was crafting. The
best thing I could do was to give the men earlier drafts to comment on and to critique.
This was the wisest decision I made, for in so doing I prevented what could have been a
catastrophic situation. Though the situation was remedied, I still hurt someone with my
words, an outcome that was farthest from my goals as an indigenous anthropologist. I
will discuss this experience, as well as the implications it holds for ethnographic work
done by insiders and outsiders, in more detail in the conclusion. I foreshadow that
discussion here to note that an indigenous anthropology asserting kuleana must take all of
the pain and happiness that comes with it.
So I write my own mo'olelo, one that interweaves my own life experiences in
with those that were shared with me, but one that is ultimately more about and for me
than anyone else. It is a "me" that I have come to know through others, a "self' that I
have been able to situate historically, culturally, spiritually, and spatially in a succession
of other selves that make up a po'e (people). My own mo'olelo is one born ofcanoes,
airplanes, and search engines that always bring me back to the need for a home, a house,
a hale, a hale mua. The Hale Mua has become a place, a group, a set ofrelations to work
out my own identities and responsibilities, just as it has for the other members. To
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kiikulu hale (build a house) is one of the primary responsibilities ofthe kane. First, one
must firmly plant the two pouhana (endposts) into the ground, for they support the
kaupaku (ridge-pole) and provide the height and the strength of the hale. In the following
section I will look in detail at the pouhana ofthe hale: Sam Ka'ai and Kyle Niikiinelua.
Their mo'olelo provide the foundation and serve as the main supports for the Hale Mua.
In search of the eyes of Hema
'0 Kaha'inuiahema, Kaha'inuiahema,
Ke ali'i 0 uka 0 Lo'i!oa a Haunaka, Chiefof the uplands ofLo'iloa and Haunaka,
I hiinau i Kahalulukahi;
'0 Kaumoilani ke ewe,
'0 Ka'aliiholo la ka piko,
'0 Hala'ahui la ka a'a,
'0 Keanimakua i Ka'opi kahua.
'0 ke anuenue ke ala 0 Kaha'i;
Pi'i Kaha'i, koI Kaha'i,
'A'e Kaha'i i ke ko'i'ula a Hema;
Hihia i na maka 0 'Alibi.
'A'e Kaha'i i ke anaha,
He anaha he kanaka ka wa'a;
nuna 0 Hiinaiakamalama;
'0 ke ala ia i 'imi ai i ka makua.
'0 hele a i ka moana wehiwehi
'0 halulu i Halekumukalani;
Ui mai kini 0 ke akua,
Was born at Kahalulukahi;
At Kaumoilani the placenta,
At Ka'aliiholo the navel cord,
At Hala'ahui the caul,
Keanimakua in Ka'opi the [house] site.
The rainbow was the pathway of Kaha'i;
Kaha'i ascended, Kaha'i pushed on,
Kaha'i tread the rainbow-hued trail of Hema;
The eyes of 'Alihi gazed in bewilderment.
Kaha'i tread along the reflected light;
The man like a canoe on the reflected light;
Above was Hanaiakamalama;
This was the pathway to seek the father.
He went over the deep, dark ocean
That roars at Halekumukalani;
The myriad ofgods inquired,
282
Ninau Kline me Kanaloa,
Heaha kau huaka'i nui e Kaha'i?
Kline and Kanaloa asked,
"What is the purpose of your great journey,
Kaha'i?"
1 'imi mai au i na maka 0 Hema. "1 am searching for the eyes of Hema."
Aia i Kahiki i 'U!upa'upa'u, "There in Kahiki at 'U!upa'upa'u,
Aia i ka 'a'aia a hahamau i'a a Kane, Where the 'a'aia bird is, the bahamau fisher of
Kline,
Loa'a aku, i Kiikulu 0 Kahiki [They] will be found-at the Pillars ofKahiki"z
Hema (literally "south" or "left") was a famous ali'i ofHawai'ikualuli, Ka'uiki,
Hlina, Maui. When his wife Luamahahoa was with child, Hema travelled to Kahiki, the
far-offlands, to find a birth gift in the form ofthe 'ape'ula-ared tapa cloth used to wrap
the images ofthe akua Kil. In the land ofKapakapauahe was killed by the 'a'aia, a
legendary fishing bird of the akua Kane. Kaha'i, son ofHema, was born at Kahalulukahi,
'lao, Wailuku, Maui. When he was older he asked his mother where his father was, and
she explained that in his search for the paIala (birth gift), Hema's eyes were taken by the
'a'aia. Kaha'i replied, "1 am going to look for my father." He voyaged to Kahiki,
treading the ko'i'ula (rainbow pathway) of Hema. There he encountered the akua Kline
and Kanaloa who asked him the purpose ofhis journey. He replied, "Iam searching for
the eyes of Hema." They responded, "There inKahiki at 'Ulupa'upa'u, with the 'a'ia
bird, to be found at the pillars ofKahiki."
Kaha'i-the break, fracture, joint-is a name carried by many voyaging chiefs in
Hawaiian history. Another bearer ofthe name is Sam Kaha'i Ka'ai, Jr. In addition to the
many hours spent talking to him after workshops or at Hale Mua meetings, I interviewed
Sam twice with a video-camera at his Pukalani home (November 1999, July 2002) and
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spoke to him on numerous occasions over the phone while I was on O'abu writing up my
research. The transcripts I include here all come from the July 23, 2002 interview at his
house where I asked him about growing np, becoming involved in the Hokiile'a, visiting
Aotearoa/New Zealand, and his opinion on the state of the "average" Hawaiian man (see
conclusion for this discussion).
Sam was born on April 17, 1938 to Edward Hiram and Caterina Marcie!. He was
given in hfulai to Edward's childless sister Christina Maile and her husband Samuel
Kaba'i Ka'ai, Sr. of Moloka'i. Itwas not until he was nine that Sam Kaba'i Ka'ai
discovered that "what was an aunt and uncle were really [his] biological parents." Sam
spent his early years on the Marciel homestead in the rural 'uala growing and fishing
village ofKaupo on the southeastern side ofMaui. I asked him what it was like, and he
told me:
Three-tirty my aunt got up, wood stove cooking. By four the men were eating.
They were mounted on their horses and on their way by six...Work started at
dawn, so in summer it was a lot earlier, and uh, work ended when you could not
see; your horse took you home, not you.
Here his grandmother Kealoha "Pake" kept her mo'opuna "out ofharm's way" in case of
any wartime "conflict or unpleasantries." When his hfulai parents separated, Sam lived
with his hfulai father who remarried a woman named Eliza Kapukini Apo from Waihe'e,
Maui. There they lived and had five children, all of whom Sam raised. He later attended
intermediate and high school on 0'abu, but dyslexia hamstringed his academic
achievement even as it augmented his artistic skills.
3
He earned a certificate of
completion in 1957 from McKinley High School, or "Tokyo High" as it was called (due
to the predominance ofJapanese students there).
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After winning an art scholarship, Sam'spent two years at the Honolulu Academy
of the Arts. He already had a background in using adzes and chisels to make papa la'au
(wooden boards), fish boxes, and other devices back in Kaup6, and in his second year he
taught the woodcarving class that he had taken the previous year as an incoming student.
He served a few years in the Army, all in Hawai'i. He was also hired to work at the
International Marketplace (a tourist market in Waikiki) to carve human faces. Soon he
began to feel that "something was missing in Honolulu," so moved back to Maui in 1960.
After living in Wailuku for a few months, he soon found work in Lahaina carving coral
and pumping air tanks at Maui Divers. He later opened his own shop on Front Street
called Ka Honu in which he sold his own carvings along with crafts from thirty-eight
different Pacific Islands. When he was twenty-three he met and married a visiting school
teacher from Michigan named Virginia Jean Nanette, and they had three daughters. At
this time he also began to visit and talk to his great-uncle Liliau Ka'ula Ka'aihue in
Kaup6 about "Hawaiian subjects," which "were not popular at the time." Sam never
thought there was anything negative about being Hawaiian; for him "it was natural."
After discussing his life as a worker and husband, spoke of his growing sense of unease
and dissatisfaction-that "missing" thing he first felt in Honolulu-'and how it came to a
head in his life with his divorce in 1985:
So after being mad for about twenty years, I, ah (pause) when I ah, got separated,
I took a reappraisal of what I was doing. And it seems that competing in the
Western world, uh, business and carving signs and doing all dat kine stuff
didn't--{pause) The satisfaction for the Western world is you should be paid a
salary, it leaves no, ah (long pause) there was no spiritual satisfaction. So urn,
just about a two and a half year dark period, and, after that I just made up my
mind that it's time to make-that (pause) Hawaiian culture was orientated
285
towards tourism. It was not, ah, really to be done for itself. Hawaiian language
was being spoken for the Bible. There was a kahiko (ancient) but they talked
about Kaliikaua which to me was very Victorian and possibly the first age of, ah,
ofexceptional change with values so (pause) looking at old values and reflecting.
I don't think one studied those things as one, at a certain time was aware that, that
the old folks did it another way. The-the kiipuna had ah, another set of values,
yeah. Um, I-I remember elders being frustrated because they had all these kind of
sayings that our Hawaiian was not good enough to understand, and therefore we
couldn't enjoy that humor...that philosophical thought, that philosophy...And then,
ah, you know, like most Hawaiian parents there's arguments over heirlooms, eh,
taonga (Maori word for "treasure"), um, you-you know some aunty somebody
took the pounding stone to California as a Hawaiian memory, and ah ofcourse
nobody pound poi, that ah (pause) So the theme "A 'oe maoli? Are you real?"
became clear.
This answer came with "the realization" that Hawaiian "material culture was missing."
In his view, things considered "Hawaiian" were either adaptations of foreign objects (e.g.
the 'ukulele, which was the Portuguese bragUinha) or Hawaiian-looking items produced
elsewhere (e.g., kukui [candlenut] lei made in the Philippines and lauhala [pandanus leaf]
mats made in Samoa and Tonga). His summarized Hawaiians' collective alienation from
their material culture is his maxim "when you eat poi from plastic bags, you burp foreign
sounds." He argued, "Hawaiian things will be in Hawaiian hands when Hawaiians pick it
up, and you can't pick it up in the store, you gotta make it." All ofthis "became clear" to
him in 1988 when he went to Aotearoa/New Zealand on a Fullbright scholarship to study
carving with Maori artisans. He recalled an incident in which he witnessed a young man
being scolded by some ofhis elders for his "Rastafarian hair-do." The tohunga (master
286
carver) told them to leave him alone, for it wasn't the hair that needed defending. What
mattered was "A 'oe Maori? Are you real?"
We think of Maori as being "I'm a real Native Hawaiian" and, and to ah Maori,
that uh (pause)-accident ofbirt' did not make you who you were. The fact that
yo' parents got together don't make you, it made a human being; now what made
you Hawaiian? or made you Maori? So they would say "A 'oe Maori? Are you
real? Do you go in the street with your father's good name?" And then 1, that hit
as a kind of a clear, clear answer to, to the things that you kinda not put your
finger on at home. Why somebody can sing in beautiful falsetta and playa
'ukulele, but ultimately, in the dawn, a single voice calling at the wind, was the
realvoice. (pause) Urn, why was that different? You had discerned it had
difference, but you didn't know how to explain it. Well, it was partially real; one
was entertaining, the other was done for, for ageless reasons. It was the hanunu 0
ka lani, the growling ofthe heavens, the namunamu 0 ke kupuna, the murmuring
from the assembly of the heavens, so it's different. And once you agree wit' dat,
one of the next statements is that it is more painful not to have than to have.
Sam lamented the fact that instead of doing the things that make us "Maoli," we look to
written accounts by foreign observers like Cook who themselves never did the activities
they wrote about. In contrast, he spoke of what and how he learned "in the doing" when
he was growing up in Kaup6.
My tUtU (Lihau) used to say "Kiilai kiilai, ah, 0 nana ka maka, 0 hana e ka lima
(carve, carve, the eyes watch, the hand works). Your hand coordination, your eye
coordination was you, but the sharpening ofthe adze before you started was the
foundation, and the binding, the making ofthe handle." And he said, "And then
you have to allow for this little extra, it's for the blisters, 'cause as you
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concentrate on your carving and you shaping the wood, the adze on the other hand
is shaping the hand, shaping the tolerance, shaping the judgment, shaping the
'uhane, eh." So uh, it's not that we get better at what we doing, it's that we know
what we doing and we can spend a more efficient time doing it. So by doing all
ofdese tings increases our familiarity, whatever, and then you can feel the same
pain of the people before you and have some kinship that its not measured by this
time and that time, but time in work.
Sam's own familiarity with the material culture led him to carve the stem images for the
Hawaiian voyaging canoe H6kiile'a's maiden voyage in 1976.
On the intellectualleve1 I designed two male figures because the canoes were
male. One was an ali'i, with his head clocked over to the side. He might be
Mo'ikeha, he might be, for me he was Kaha'i, I am Kaha'i so he is Kaha'i.
Kaha'i the man who found Hawai'i who was called Hawai'iloa, Kaha'i who
brought the breadfruit, you know there's many many Kaha'i's. And uh, I put him
with a mahiole, uh, kinda looking (making a side-eye glance). On the other side I
had the man, which was a effigy ofour time reaching for the, the hoku, the stars.
So uh, when I submitted those two drawings, uh, they asked, you know, to say
whyI thought ofthat. I said, "Well, the star is the bOkii, eh. I mean, for us today,
everything is changing." The-we are homogenized, and marginalized, a-hah-and
syrup-wized, and shoyu-ized, and inamona-wized, and uh you know, rubbah
sIippah-wized, and Primo-wized...and ah, that we all were out to a Big Mac attack
(chuckling). And some people were crying in their heart that they were born too
late, see. The trouble is they nevah-when they prey, they wen' look down, they
nevah look up. 'Cause if you get up before dawn, the heavens have not
changed....Their relationship to each other is there, so ifyou lost your way, your-
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your hokii, you-you've lost your guide on the land because the streets are changed
and the bulldozah making new alanui (road), well, 'a'a ke alanui 0 ka lani (brave
the path of the heavens), the heavenly roads are still there. (pause, eyes tearing)
Look up, see your star, remember where your kupuna said the island was, the
island ofyour dreams. Down by south by southeast, is HokU'ula (red star), it's
only three tousand miles away. (pause) So uh, chose the right star, set the course,
give your life to eternity, rna mua, go forward.
As has been noted elsewhere (Finney 1979; 1994), the voyages of the Hokiile'a were
instrumental in sparking the cultural revitalization movement in Hawai'i and the revival
ofPolynesian ocean voyaging throughout Polynesia. For Sam personally, the H6kiile'a
"taught many lessons" that "allowed probing....Everybody looking at oriental and
occidental ideas; ah, Hawaiians only had to look south to other islands." Over the years
Sam has been to such places as Tahiti, Siimoa, Rapa Nui, Rarotonga, Fiji, and,
importantly, Aotearoa/New Zealand. In Aotearoa/New Zealand, he saw a people who
had maintained the rituals and songs that kept their ties offamily, clan, and tribe together
throughout the years ofchange. With great emotion, he recreated a scenario typical ofthe
marae:
You a young motha, they (women ofthe tribe) show up.at ten o'clock to make
sure you come to the marae (courtyard in front ofthe meeting house); I don't care
if you had three children in England or the United States. You must fold a three 
comer diaper, you must make a baby formal, you must sing the pre-birth song,
you must sing the birth song, you must sing the first-year song, you must sING
(voice cracks on the verge oftears) the song of the tribe, ofthe hapu (clan), and if
you cannot, then your child will not belong, and he will not be our child, and he is
our child, not yours. That belonging is driven home. Ah, today we do it in hlilau,
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but that kind of support, marae is everything. They have their institution, they
zealously stand and protect it. It is a big fmancial burden to everyone to have
those things, but not to have is to be lost in the wilderness of change.
Sam did not only witness these practices of "belonging" but also practiced them when he
himself was "adopted" by a family (and thus their whole tribe) and "integrated" as one of
their own. Sam reflected on that and brought it full circle to Hawai'i and the Hale Mua.
So staying more than three days almost guarantees adoption, and therefore if they
go to the field, you too will go. And if they go to the church, you too will go
because we go as the hapai---the hapu, the iwi, the family, the clan, the tribe. So
that kind of stuff we see, we admire, and once you know, you know it's absent
here. So I have a tribe. Do you know it's name? (pause) Hale Mua (smiling).\
***
Sam's life story is exemplary in the ways that he connects family, work, society,
and cultural practice in ways that create a sense of coherence in his life (Linde 1993). He
.links the dissonance in his personal and work life to the cultural and social malaise he
perceived (and still does perceive) as characterizing the Hawaiian people and culture. In
Sam's case, practicing the "real" Hawaiian culture brings order to his own disrupted
models for family, work, production, and community-those things that define him as a
man. In his life story, he draws connections between the failure in his marriage, his lack
offulfillment as a producer in the culture industry (both on O'ahu and on Mani), and
transformations (degradations?) in Hawaiian culture, which include missionization, the
adoption ofWestern cultural practices and laws, the loss oflanguage, values and
philosophies, and the eventual commodification of culture for tourist consumption
(Desmond 1999; Merry 2000; Osorio 2002; Trask 1993b). He also notes how all of these
processes have lead to the fetishization ofcultural objects by Hawaiians, which is both a
290
cause and effect ofthe disintegration of familial ties as people became further removed,
both physically and culturally, from the old ways.
hnportantly, it is the breakdown in family relations that frame and are understood
by the breakdown in cultural practices and relations. Not sUIprisingly, it is through a
reassembled understanding offamily and work that Sam sees the answer to cultural
degradation. It is here that the genealogical chants offer a mode of Maoli theorization of
Sam's life. Like Kaha'inuiahema, Sam Kaha'i Ka'ai followed the rainbow hued path in
search ofna maka 0 Hema-the eyes of the South, the eyes ofhis father. "Hawaiians
only had to look south." His journeys to Aotearoa let him know what was missing-the
ritual practices ofbelonging that maintained identity in the family, clan, and tribe. More
specifically, it is through a revaluing ofthe man's role in cultural (re)production that Sam
frames "a '00 maoli? are you real?" It's not the "accident of birth" that determines
identity, but rather what one does to make oneselfmaoli and to carry his "father's good
name." These are lessons that he was taught by his uncle Llhau, whose instruction in
carving taught him that blisters of hard work allow one to "feel the same pain ofthe
people before you and have some kinship that its not measured by this time and that time,
but time in work." Thus Sam testifies to his ability, and the ability of all Hawaiians, to
recover from the historical and cultural loss that became reproduced in the family and in
the individUal. His mo'olelo places him back in a succession that experienced a "ha'i,"
or a break; through his reclamation work, he made that ha'i a joint, a connection to the
next generation.
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Replanting keiki
Kyle was giving Ku'ulei and me the tour ofLakini, the taro lands he took over
from his grandmother in 1989. We were out here for my first interview with Kyle, and
Ku'ulei was helping by doing some ofthe video taping as we walked around. After
showing us the goldfish that lived in the stream and the mo'o (dragon) that became a
grassy islet, he took us to the lo'i and told us how to plant kalo. He crouched down and
pointed to a large, older looking plant and explained that it would not be replanted again;
instead, you want to plant the 'oha---the keiki plants growing from the makua plant.
Pointing to a small group of plants growing away from the main patches and growing in
what looked like a neglected patch ofmud, Kyle explained that after you harvest the
'oha, you first have to '0'0, or poke the huli (tops of kalo used for planting) into the
ground and let them sit; the ones that are strong are taken out again and replanted. He
then walked over to a large plant in the lo'i and showed us a makua with a pua (flower)
and explained that once the makua has flowered, the taro is old and will not bear keiki; if
you replant the makua, the hua (corm) will not be as big and will eventually die as it
becomes more susceptible to all kinds ofdiseases. He pointed out a smaller plant with
wilted lIIld tom leaves, and told us about the "pocket rot" that has hit a lot oftaro patches
recently, "See dat baby? See how da blight wen' hit 'em? Ifdat doesn't survive, it goes
back into da hua, and dat's where you get dat pocket. Dat's what I found. UH guys get
their own mana'o, but dey nevah did come hea' and look."
Fortunately, I am one ofthe "UH guys" that went to look, and what I found in the
mo'olelo ofKyle Ka'ohulani Nlikanelua was the hope that the keiki can survive the
blight. I have interviewed Kyle twice on videotape, once on audio, and another three
times over the phone. The segments I include here are drawn from four different
interviews. The first was a videotaping at his lo'i in Llikini (11/1999) where we
292
discussed the emergence ofthe Hale Mua and the specific activities carried out therein.
In April 2002 I video-taped him again before a practice at Hale Nanea and went over
some ofthe same things we discussed in 1999 as well as the development ofthe group
since then. In November 2002 he came to my mom's house on Maui where I audio-taped
an interview more closely focusing on his life and personal history. I called him again in
December 2002 to fill in certain gaps about his life, his involvement in the military, and
his first time at Pu'ukohoHi.
. Kyle was born in Honolulu on September 10,1959. His father, Paul Hiinaiali'i
Niikanelua, was a Hawaiian-Chinese man from Wailua Nui, a small taro fanning area in
the Ko'olau district ofEast Maui. Immediately after attending S1. Anthony High School
in the 1950s, Paul moved to Honolulu to work in the construction business with his one
ofhis uncles. There he met Barbara Rodrigues, a third generation Portuguese woman
from O'abu. They married and had two girls and one boy: Debbie, Kyle and Donnie (in
that order). Unlike their parents, who were from more rural areas and times, Kyle and his
sisters were brought up in the district of Pawa'a (McCully) in the rapidly expanding
urban center of Honolulu.
When we were raised we were very, very metropolitan; that was, we grew up in
the sixties, that was in the midst of the construction explosion within the Waikilci,
ab, what's that-Kaka'ako districts of downtown Honolulu man, everything just,
caught, just-<ia sound I distinctly remember growing up to was pile-drivers,
every day man, just BOOM-CHH BOOM-CHH and they all goin on
simultaneously. Never, I can never remember a day wit'out that stuff going on
(11/4/02).
Catholicism was important in the Niikiinelua family, and Kyle received all ofhis
schooling at Maryknoll, a Catholic school in Honolulu. He admits that he "wasn't a good
293
student" and "required a lot ofattention and help." which he did not often receive. As
was common in those days. nuns and brothers were swift to brandish rulers and launch
chalkboard erasers ifthere was any disruption in the classroom. This. however. was
nothing compared to the can home.
You chose the choices that weren't favorable to your father. and. you suffered the
repercussions. you know. And. you just lived with it man (chuckling)....Whoa-ho.
da beatings was furious...You know. there's-you know they work hahd. They
come home. you no more "patience." what is that "patience?"...My faddah
worked really hard. he was in construction thirty-five years. and during dat boom.
eh. And it wasn't like. you know da high tech construction like it is now days; you
did road work. a lot ofroad work and a lot of sub-road work. yeah. So everything
waspick and shovel. and back-breaking...You know. five in da morning tin five
in da evening, and den come home, and, sshh-braddah. don't even get in da way.
In da hot sun all day. no time man. And, plus dat old country upbringing dey had
too, it's like, there's-there's no room fo' error and there's no time for mistakes,
and whenever you came up short, you paid da price boy. It's tough. you know.
but it makes you resilient. eh (11104/02).
In contrast to the daily grind ofthe school and work week (which was often six days for
. the father), Kyle spent more enjoyable times during the weekend with his dad at little
league baseball games, where his dad "would go all out" and bring snacks and drinks for
all the kids, even those on the opposing teams.
Hawaiian tastes and communities were maintained in the home where "there was
always a bowl of poi on the table" and "the favorite food was dry aku and poi," and over
the imu (underground oven) at the Veteran ofForeign Wars center where his father's
construction crew (the "uncles") cooked pigs regularly. During summer and Christmas
294
breaks, Kyle and his sisters stayed with their grandparents in Wailua Nui, Maui, playing
and working in the lo'i. Time in the lo'i and in the imu fostered an "appreciation for
things that were Hawaiian" in Kyle at an early age. He "always tried to find out more
about things Hawaiian, but nobody was talking, and nobody was directing," especially at
a Catholic school where the only Hawaiian books in the library were "about Duke
Kahanamoku and surfing" (12/29/02). The one Hawaiian activity he could participate in
at Maryknoll was an annual Hawaiian program, which he danced hula and participated in
historical skits from sixth grade until tenth grade. Yet at the time, hula was still only
associated with women and mahii, and he often felt that he had to "muscle through"
them. Because he was a starter on the football team and had a reputation as "a scrapper,"
nobody ever told him anything; however, he did stop short of accepting an invitation to
dance with a halau in fear that he'd have to "duke it out every day" with the "rugged"
guys he hung out with.
After graduating in 1977, he enlisted in the Air Foree in the fire protection field to
get training for a job in the fire department. He spent two years in Oregon and two years
in Japan and had eamed an associates degree in fire sciences by the end of his four year
commitment. I asked him how his time spent in the Air Force affected his growth as a
man, to which he answered:
The military experience in itself, you know the whole chain of command, the
rigors ofdiscipline, and, well that's all a part and parcel of being a man, eh. You
eitha get wit da program or you know, you get run ovah....It's more like one, one
real serious job where they give young people majorresponsibilities, and, and you
own up to it. And, and I think that's a great thing that they provide. And they,
they, well, you put yourself out there, and you know, you hunkin' around millions
of dollars worth of equipment, and it's all on you. And at, at 17, 18, and 19, well
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that's, you'll, you'd never get that at any addah place. Nobody would trust you
wit' anyting but a burgah (12/29/02).
While in Japan, he met two Hawaiian-Filipino men named Rick Agbayani and Jeff Mira
who were raised in the Hawaiian-Filipino plantation camps in Waipahu. They shared
with Kyle their "plantation style" of Kaji Kempo fighting, and it was here that he first
began his training in the martial arts.
After returning to O'ahu from Japan, Kyle got a job in the Kahului airport fire
station and moved to Maui in 1982. He started to go out and work at his grandparents'
lo'i in Wailua Nui, but his grandmother chased him out ofthere telling him "I no like you
do dis ring, I no like you back deah," which Kyle interpreted as her "testin' da metal"
(11/26/99). In a few years he was dating an O'ahu woman named Lolita Cole, and they
were married when he was about thirty. I asked him when he first started getting into
"Hawaiian things," and he said that he had always been interested in them since he was
young. His desire was intensified by a conversation he had with a haole woman who was
a tour escort that he met.
And she had asked me what the word haole meant, and, so I told her what the
definition I grew up with and she said "No, that's not it." And then she proceeded
to tell me what the word is. And I thought "son of a bitch. I get one haole, and
one woman, tellin me about myculture!"....(I ask, "What was her definition?" and
he replies) Ha-'ole, which meant "without breath." She brought up the fact of the
honi and everything man, and I'm like-now this is in the mid-80s, right-and
I'm like "Sshhiit! How da hell does she know dis and I don '(!" you know, and
obviously she readabout it, cause she came from the mainland. So, dat motivated
me into, into doing more, more book work, more academic stuff. And so I did,
and I searched (12/29102).
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The "major breakthrough" for Kyle came in 1988 when his wife Ola (as he calls her)
bought him David Malo's Hawaiian Antiquities for his birthday. It "opened the door for
everything", and ever since he got that book he "basically read every Hawaiian book
about everyting out dea, several times ovah, and use 'em for reference material"
(12/29/02). In our fIrst interview in 1999, I had asked a general question about what led
to the formation ofNa Koa and then the Hale Mua; signifIcantly, Kyle placed its
development in his own personal development in the culture that only proceeded after his
promotion as a captain allowed him to devote more time to his educative project:
Now was the time, because I had set myself up fInancially through the occupation
ofbeing a fueman, and I pretty much could grow no further in that realm, just
needed to make your bones, yeah, earn your time, and the progress was really
slow in that area. So it afforded me now the opportunity, the time to research this
thing, to learn this thing. Cause ifyou warma do anything Hawaiian, it goin' cost
you: goin' cost you fInancially, goin' cost you in money, goin' cost you in time
like no nuff (11/26/99).
He also did intensive research into his genealogy, which led him back to his
grandparents' taro patches. He took over the lo'i in 1989 and began to establish a very
strong relationship with his grandmother Helen (his grandfather passed a couple years
later). As a taro farmer her whole life, she became involved in a political group called
Ho'aIa Kanawai, whose purpose was to restore and protect water rights on taro lands.
From that coalition, Helen became involved in the sovereignty organization Ka Liihui
Hawai'i, which Kyle also joined after attending some meetings with her. While this was
all very important in his own development as a Hawaiian, Kyle grew much more from the
"mundane work" of farming taro with his grandmother.
297
When you working wit' each othah, this is where all this knowledge and innate
stuff is passed on.... And it's nothing maybe you ever saw, but it's something that
you got...The fact that you have to pull da weeds because it just bothers you dat
they're there; take a look behind you, I guarantee you, one of your elders used to
be bothered by da same ting....Dat's what I've come to fmd out in doing da tings
dat I've been doing. And, like I said, just taking care of the taro patches and lo'i
and stuff-the more mundane something is, the more you can extract out ofthese
things, the more innate qualities will just evolve. Ifyou jump on one tractor, and
you tear up the land, and then you plant it, that's all well and good, and that's
production, and that's da way you wanna do it, ifyou have to make a go out ofit
now days...But you will miss out on something else if you do it that way. Versus
ifyou do it da old way where you dig it up wit' a ho, and I mean you just, give
every piece of your day's energy into dis work effort, you gonna come away wit'
something so unique, so different, so unbelievable, that you not gonna be able to
find words to describe it, but, ifyou spoke to somebody or listened to somebody
who did something similar, even if it's fishing...You know exactly where he
coming from So part ofthe reason in doing all this stuffis to understand what
our kiipuna had to deal with, you know, on just, you'll know how dey think, and
why I fmd that's important is, nowadays we have Hawaiian language, and its
basically a Miinoa 'ano or it's a Hilo 'ano...So you get this kind ofthought
process...The elders have a language based on living what they, and speaking
what they do. And so fortnnately my grandmother is a native speaker, and they
have a whole different way of thin1dng, and the language brings life to da work,
and den da work gives life to da language, and when you separate da two, you
lose something in da process (11/4/02).
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Kyle's efforts to "put it back together" and regain what was lost eventually led
him to Pu'ukoholii heiau. As he continued to In August 1991, two weeks after his
daughter Lu'ukia was born, Kyle was on duty at the airport and ran into Earl "Mo"
MoUar, a fellow fIre fighter and activist, and Sam Ka'ai, whom he had heard of but never
met before. Mo was helping Sam with the production and shipping of weapons for the
rededication ofPu'ukoholli. After their introduction, Sam asked Kyle ifhe was going.
Since his daughter was just born and his taro patches needed tending, Kyle was doubtful.
Sam told him, "Oh well, ifyou real, you'll be dea; ifnot, you won't be." Sitting at
Llikini, Kyle recalled that initial challenge:
Ho, brah, I wanted to pound dis guy serious, boy fa' dat, haha. But that was the
thing, that's how 1 knew. So I wrestled wit' da idea fo' da next two days, yeah,
was two days. So I shot out to da country da next day I got offa work, pulled all
my taro, took care of all dat, spoke to my wife, she told me, "¥ou know what, just
go. Just take off." And so, Thursday morning, I jumped on a plane and just took
offovah deah, found a ride out to da heiau, figured everyting out, and just, just
got dea on a wing and prayer basically. And whatevah happened, happened, and
you kinda see da result ofwhat happened (chuckling) (11/26/99).
In April 2002, Kyle repeated again the signifIcance of seeing Nli Koa (the Warriors)
standing on the heiau and the inspiration, pride, excitement, and sense of purpose he felt
as a Hawaiian man.
It was the first time that I knew ofthat Hawaiian males got togedda, othah than
hula, at a cultural level. Ifthere was one, I was unaware of it...It's the first one
I've ever been a part of, or I've ever been aware of. And it gathered the men to
work(4/17/02).
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Yet not all of it was easy to internalize. I asked him ifhis participation in Hawaiian
ceremonies created any conflicts with his religious beliefs. He laughed and said that for a
while there he thought he was "going to hell" (12/29102). As he learned more about the
Hawaiian ceremonies, he became more comfortable with them and even began to
reconcile them with his Catholic beliefs by fmding similarities and using his new
understandings of Hawaiian ritual to explain the Catholic ones.
The next few years for Kyle "was nothing but a whirlwind" as he completely
immersed himself in the culture. Despite Ola's apprehensions, Kyle decided that their
children would be put in the Hawaiian language immersion schools, and so he taught
himself basic Hawaiian from the books. By the time their son Pololii was born in 1995,
their daughter had gone through the Piinana Leo immersion preschool and the language
had become an integral part of the home. In 1993, Kyle also became a part ofthe first lua
(Hawaiian bone-breaking martial art) seminar that was offered through the Bishop
Museum's Native Hawaiian Culture and Arts Program (NHCAP). For him, it was just
another phase ofhis own "self-searching" since he carried the name Niikanelua, which
itself could be translated variously as "the lua (fighting) men" and/or "the lua (dUal/two)
men." Eventually Kyle became a prominent leader in the lua schools and the Nli Koa, a
role that would culminate as the po'o ofthe Hale Mua.
As the group grew, men from the Royal Order of Kamehameha, a society for
Hawaiian men that was created by Kamehameha V, took notice and soon members ofthe
Mua were recruited for the Royal Order. Again in the lo'i ofLlikini, Kyle reminded me
ofthe taro he showed me before we began our interview and compared them to the Royal
Order.
The Royal Order at one time was trying to ho'oulu themselves, yeah, they were
dyin off. It's just like the taro you saw there. It was a bunch of miikua, huli
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mlikuas just being planted, and nevah have any shoots, and da huas was gettin'
smalJah and smalJah every yeah. So, you know, we needed to get some young
hulis in deah, so, young hulis got established, and dat's da ting went through. So
urn, we planted 'em and it's floursihing (11/26/99).
Kyle also discovered that to be a visible figure in the community entailed
responsibilities, something he inscribed on himself with klikau. At the end of our
November 2002 interview at my house on Maui, he asked me when I was planning to get
my uhi. I replied that I was unsure as I had not completed my genealogy research. He
reaffmned my patience and related a story about how his own ubi had brought about a
new awareness in him that he was not quite prepared for at first:
I saw my friends down the beach-firemen, yeah. I nevah party long time 'cause
I was busy wit' da farm and everyting, yeah. One day.. J saw dem all down at
Ho'okipa (beach park). So I had on my pit'ii, I had on shorts, I nevah have one
shirt on. So I drove down, they said "Eh, have one beer!" So I was sitting there
drinking one beer...and I look around me and had all kine Hawaiian braddahs
around, and some braddahs was real jag, and they was ackin' up too, big time.
They had all dese tattoos on dem, eh, and different kine tattoos, some had da
Polynesian flavah to 'em, but then I looked at myself, wit-wit all the tattoos I had
on, and mine are basically all traditional, all researched to be traditional,
authentic, three hundred four hundred year-old plus tattoos, you know,
representing the people, and-and kuleanas of the past, and I'm sitting there,
suckin' one beer, and all dis' action is goin' on, and I wen' like, "Aw shit!" And I
went to da car, I got one shirt, an' I got one long pants, I put 'em on, because I felt
that (pause) it was improper for me to be in this place and time, displaying this
behavior, representing this people...J golla always be conscious of what I'm
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doing, because of what I represent, and because of who I represent. (pause) You
know, "Aw SEE! Just one naddah braddah ackin' up, wit' all dat shit on, tinking
dey be all dat!" Da's dajudgement go' come out. So I gotta make sure that, you
know, (pause) I don't afford them the opportunity for that judgement...that's what
you gotta live wit', you know, once you put OOt ting on (11/4/02).
In a later phone conversation, Kyle spoke of the personal costs his involvement has
incurred:
Kyle: It's cost a lot, it's cost a lot of time and energy, but the investment was well
worth it. The payment, you at least break even.
Kawika: Were there times where it was ever like a strain on the family, with, like
you always kind of devoting so much time to--
Kyle: Yeah, big time, yeah. But always, it wasn't like, the ting is whenever I was
away or the time I dedicate to it, whenever I come back, I was always a better
person. It wasn't that I come back and beat her or-or more impatient. I always
come back more patient, more open, more reasonable, more calmer. You know
and times, you know and there were times when "You gotta go back already.
You gettin on everybody's nerves" (12/29/02).
He also mentioned that Ola continued to find books that Kyle had not yet read while also
ensuring that the children's English language skills were maintained. In the end, Kyle
felt that the culture had brought about an important growth in his own self and in the
family.
It's helped me to be more of who I truly am. I feel mo'-you know how it is
when you growin up, right. You know, some people no feel comfortable as
females and males, and all of a sudden dey make one flip in deah' life and you
know all of a sudden dey comfortable. Well, I nevah felt comfortable in my life
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being Western, or being Western-oriented, or being Western-based. And now dat
I have dis, I feel really comfortable wit' who I am, and because I am comfortable,
I'm a better husband for my wife. I'm a better father fo' my children. The stories
and the songs that I sing to dem are Hawaiian ones, and I seen dem grow in dis,
and they are more solid in who they are as human beings, because they have all
this, than I was when I was deah age. They're comfortable and confident, and
they absolutely know exactly who they are, where they came from, who they
came from, what they all about, and the possibilities as to any place they wanna
go and anything they wanna do. And I nevah had dat till I was in my late
twenties. These kids always had it, and they always feel it. And again, it's an
attribute to the makua, to the parents, yeah, because the parents provide this kind
of environment. And the parents can provide this kind ofenvironment because
the parents feel this way....It permeates the children, and the children permeates
back to da couple, and now da family becomes thick, and grounded, yeah
(12/29/02).
****
Like Sam, Kyle connects cultura1 activism and personal growth as a man in terms
of work, family, travel and place. IfSam represents the transitional generation that saw
"culture" become an heirloom to be mourned and fought over, Kyle's time was the
"explosion" of change, the post-War statehood period that officially begun one month
prior to his birth. Transplanted from the taro patches and driven into manholes, life for
the country people became even tougher in the city. Yet even in the urban lo'i, the kalo
took root, feeding offof streams now covered by concrete, but still producing keiki
(children) that would themselves one day be transplanted back into the lo'i that the
makua came from. Like the huli that was poked into the harsh environment ofthe
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· metropolitan muck, Kyle developed a masculinity based on the "toughness" and
"resilience" that was required in an environment where there was no room for mistakes or
weakness. This hindered his participation in the hula, which was seen as feminine and
weak. Instead, he found connection in what he now calls his "first exposure to the hale
mua"-working in the imu with his father and uncles. The other major grounding he got
was during his visits to Wailua Nui, where he drank of the waters in Liikini.
His father Hanai (which literally means to "feed") passed on to his son the
importance ofwork and the ability to put food (especially Hawaiian food) on the table.
This was reinforced both in lo'i and in the Air Force. By the time Kyle was settled on
Maui, the experience of travel, urbanity and lack of further possible growth in work place
compounded his discomfort with being "Western-oriented or Western-based."
Interestingly, women provided Kyle with the initial impetus and ability to "delve
deeper": the haole woman highlighted his ignorance in language, his wife bought him the
books and allowed him to go to Pu'ukohola that first year, and his grandmother worked
him like a kauwa (slave) and then implanted all ofher 'ano (characteristics) and thoughts
in his head. Indeed, it was his grandmother that taught him that "the language gives life
to the work, and the work gives life to the language." Thus when he speaks in metaphors
of kalo, it is an organic source of knowledge and wisdom, one that he has both come to
know and live through the doing. It then extends to his family, which he also frames in
lo'i language ofvalues and knowledge "permeating" the keiki from the makua, creating a
"thick" and "grounded" 'ohana, a family whose roots are in the lo'i.
Taken together, the life stories of Sam and Kyle both articulate a number of
important experiences that other men have gone through and also provide solutions and
answers for others. The telling of life stories is a practice that establishes a place for
Hawaiian men in the family. and community, both in time and space. This is particularly
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relevant at a time when the Hawaiian cultural nationalist movement has brought an
intense and heavy critique ofwestern capitalism and patriarchy in Hawai'i and the roles
that Hawaiian men play in perpetuating these systems of domination (Trask 1984; 1999).
At a time when feminist critiques question the place ofmen's productive work, the
connections one can make with work, cultural (re)production and family in narratives of
reclamation are vitally important for maintaining a valid sense of self and identity. For
these stories to be validated, they need to be heard; in many cases, they need to be
learned. Thus the Hale Mua provides a forum for both purposes, as well as the creation
ofnew mo'olelo. In the final section, I complete the hale by connecting the mo'olelo of
the other kane to the pouhana in a succession of posts, beams, poles, and thatching. This
hale mua is one made of mo'olelo that bind the life experiences, historical occurrences,
cultural flows, familial/genealogical reckonings, and spiritual transformations together
through multiple tellings and hearings.
Ka i mua-thrust into the Mua
It is December 1999 and Kamana'opono and I are sitting on the floor in his house
in Pauoa and talking about the Hale Mua over some 'awa in front of my video camera.
Eleven years my senior, Kamana'opono was one ofthose guys whom I saw on a video
about sovereignty and became immediately inspired by his 'olelo and the strength he
exuded. I met him briefly at the World Indigenous Peoples' Conference on Education in
the beginning ofAugust but did not really get to know him until my first trip to
Pu'ukohoHi in the following week. His chanting was unlike anything I heard before, and
I resolved to emulate his style. As a person, I found that he had a sort of"uncle who likes
to play jokes on his nephews and then give them some candy" type of 'ano, a warmth,
sincerity, patience, and humbleness that just puts you at ease. He was working on his
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dissertation in psychology on acculturation and identity among Native Hawaiians. It is
easy to see how successful he will be as a clinical psychologist; people just want to talk
to him. I wanted to talk to him, and fortunately he abided the camera and spoke to me.
Kyle credits him with doing all the academic research into the Hale Mua, which he did;
yet Kamana'o's interest in the Hale Mua predated his academic search and (not
surprisingly) was rooted in his own life experiences. I asked him how he fIrst got
involved in the Hale Mua, to which he responded:
I knew ofthe Hale Mua from before because I studied it real briefly, other people,
other braddahs talked to me about it. And in those stages it was just getting men
together, like doing imu, talking about fIshing, farming, mahi'ai, but not too much
about like warrior, warriorhood...My friend, Keanu Sai, I used to meet with him
and talk 'cause we were both in the military; he was one captain for fIeld artillery
with national guard, I was one sergeant for the Anny reserves in the 100 battalion
442
nd
infantry, so we used to meet and stuff. Had a couple ofHawaiians of us, we
used to meet in the Anny Reserve or the Air Guard, or the Air National Guard,
the National Guard, we used to meet and talk about dat cooking da imu, and talk
about more Army stuff, but dat wasn't Hawaiian stuff. We wanted to learn, at
that time we was just struggling, this was way back way in the late 80s, early 90s.
And so den, when I met up wit' Nlikiinelua, I was like "Wow, you know, get one
braddah, I, you know, we can learn dis stuff' (12/11/99).
Having a "braddah" to learn with allowed Kamana'opono to grow in his own way. As
Kamana'o recalled, one ofthe main reasons that Kyle was such an inspiration was
because he was somebody that Kamana'o could identify with as a man, an identification
that occurred by seeing his (and other men's) embodied performance at Pu'ukohola.
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I think it has brought me closer culturally and spiritually with my heritage, being
Hawaiian. And also narrowing it down to my role and responsibility as a male,
what I feel is a male. Because, urn, you know, I'm nota hula dancer. You know,
my, I'm very proudofmy brothers and sisters who dance hula, but I'm not a hula
dancer because I get flat feet (smiling). You know, but, every since I was young,
you know, my father used to give us boxing gloves, I used to fight my addah two
braddahs, take karate, play sports. So to me, that's more my 'ano, my more
physical, kind ofpath. But then, along this, I noticed that tbroughout my
childhood, my teenage years, and growing up into my early adult years, you know
I really had this desire to do something Hawaiian, but I never knew what it was.
So I was always searching, I was always searching, looking for my place. For
me, Pu'ukohola was a significant event in my life. It created an experience that I
saw, I saw kane I could identify with. I saw Parley Kanaka'ole, I saw Sam Ka'ai,
I saw Kyle Nakanelua, I saw Mo, I saw Kawika Davidson there, you know like,
"Wow, dese kine guys I wouldn't mindbeing like." So, that started-you know I
saw Keone Nunes ovah deah, he was an inspiration to me too. All dese addah
kane dat I saw was sort ofrole models for me to aspire to, to fulfill my own
identity, but an identity that I comfortable with, not somebody placing on me
(12/11/99).
Whereas Kamana'o had already begnn to learn the language and genealogies
when he first met Kyle at Pu'ukohola in 1991, other men began their search much later in
life. In a video-taped interview (11/05/02) in his Wailuku office, Keoki Maka Kamaka
Ki'iIi sat down and related the ways that his participation in the Mua was an important
part ofhis search for "roots." Keoki Ki'iIi left Maui in 1967 as soon as he graduated
from Baldwin High School and moved to the U.S. continent. There he entered a long
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career in the military, both in active duty and civilian status. He settled in California and
one day found himself in a board meeting surrounded by his white co-workers and
thought to himself, "I have no cultural identity." This led him to be involved in the
Pacific Islander program at a local university, where a Samoan man who asked him over
the telephone what culture he was since Keoki "sounded very, very, very white." A few
years later, Keoki became associated with an Office ofHawaiian Affairs (OHA) project
to establish a "blueprint" of all the Hawaiians on the U.S. continent. A kupuna named
Aunty Rena Nelson took him under her wing as a hanai (adopted son) and introduced him
to her other friends as her "coconut hanai," that is, he was "brown on da outside, white on
the inside." AIl ofthose experiences "opened up my yearning to be what I really am, a
Hawaiian man that was educated and wanted to return home to find my roots." He
returned in 1993 and immediately became involved in the sovereignty movement, the lua
classes, the Royal Order of Kamehameha, the Pu'ukohola ceremonies, and eventually the
Hale Mua. As the owner of a full-service computer sales, repair, and training company
called Solutions, Inc., Keoki was attending a conference in Waikild and was sitting down
with a friend during a break and writing on his laptop. A Hawaiian woman came up to
him and said, "Wow, what's more powerful: a Hawaiian with a spear or a Hawaiian with
a laptop?" "Why not both?" Keoki replied, and subsequently adopted the logo of a man
holding a spear in one hand and a laptop in the other. From his experiences, he decided
that he would use the Hale Mua to invite other Hawaiian men who "are a little loss as to
their purpose in the present day."
One of the men he invited was Kevin Kiikona Lopes, an airtraffic controller in
his mid forties who also served time in the Air Force. At the time ofour December 3,
1999 video-taped interview, the two of us were part of the three-man O'ahu contingent
(Kamana'opono being the other) ofthe Mua. Over a bowl of 'awa, I began our interview
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by asking him to state his fIrst name. Kiikona started carrying his Hawaiian name after
he joined the Mua, and thus the "name question" immediately evoked a discussion ofhis
own identity search and his struggle to reconnect with his genealogy and culture:
Kawika: What's your full name?
Kiikona: Aaah. Given at birth
Kawika: Whatever
Kukona: Kevin George Lopes. L-O-P-E-S. Urn. My mother, hermaiden name
was Eudora, Kiikona. Theirfamily came from Honoka'a. My grandmother on
my mother's side is from Waimea, and my grandfather (pause) is the mystery in
the family. He had a twin brother, and trying to trace back his genealogy, they
got back as far as Kana, and then the trail stopped, so (pause). At that time
Hawaiians dido't have birth certificates and all that, as far as tracing his
genealogy back it's, been a dead end. aab, not to say that nobody knows what it is,
just that, nobody in ourgeneration or my mom's generation knows what it is. Ab,
and that kinda all brought me to Hale Mua. (pause) The sense of maybe
discovering whyI was born Hawaiian at this time ofthe Hawaiians' history. You
know I could have been born a farmer in Indiana, but I've always felt that there's
a reason for being here. And it's not like I was searching, but I knew there was
always something that always just played around in the back ofmy mind. And
when I moved to Maui-well, afterliving on O'abu most ofmy life, I became a
city boy. Hawaiian things were a curiosity but nothing you could get involved in.
And I went to Kamehameha Schools. We were the lost generation because,
(pause) ab Kamehameha tradition had gone away from being a school for
Hawaiians, and became a school for making Hawaiians haoles. And that was the
environment I was brought up in at Kamehameha. So, you know song contest, oh
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that's nice, you know, ho'ike (hula program), that's nice, but mainly it was
emphasized you have to get your education, you have to learn to speak the white
man's language, you have to (pause), go out, and not so much bring back, but just
go out; which to me, in looking back at it now is way out ofline. And I see a
resurgence of going back to things Hawaiian for Hawaiians up there, and, it's a
good thing, you know it's just too bad it wasn't that way when I was going there,
but then again that's probably just another page in the story ofwhy I'm here
(12/3/99).
It was Kiikona's move to Maui that put him in touch with the land and the history he felt
so removed from. He felt an "essence coming from the land" that he hadn't felt before,
and it led him to realize that he was a "coconut...brown on the outside and stilI living and
working in the white man's world." When he recalled being invited by Keoki to a
meeting and standing in the back watching the men.
Kawika: So how did it feel watching that [practice]? Just when you were standing
there, ifyou think back on it?
Kiikona: Like, even now when you just asked me that, I get the tingle again right,
because it was like "Yeah, this is something that calls to me." You know I won't
say that, in reliving past lives or anything, you know this is what I did, no, cause I
don't know ifthat really exists, but (pause) but then again I do (chuckle). I
dunno, what I'm tryin to say is that, is that it was something that touched a part of
me that just said, "Yeah, this is what you should have been doing all along." This
is (pause) you know looking back now this is what Kamehameha Schools should
have been for me, and (pause) ever since then, [I've] swallowed the hook, and
even though I'm here on O'ahu now, I still get drawn back to Maui, I still go back
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and meet with the men ofthe Hale Mua...They've become, honestly, closer to
family in a different way (12/3/99).
Kiikona's mo'olelo epitomizes the type of"awakening" or "rebirth" stories that a
number of men related. It is also important to note the ways that travel and space become
tropes for identity work where men "go out" and "come back" to the culture. Since his
"return," he has actively engaged in wood carving and 'awa growing, and he has
transformed his garage into a mini-woodshopthat those of us on O'abu visit regularly
when we work on our projects.
Others too found reconnection in moving to Maui. I interviewed thirty-seven year
old Daniel "Danny" La'abiwabiwa Garcia in his dining room one morning as his wife
Arlene and their newborn baby Noa played in the living room. When Danny was seven,
his father, a sergeant in the Army, was stationed in Columbia, South Carolina, and so the
family moved away from their home on O'abu. For the next decade Danny grew up in
the racist south and got into fights regularly because ofhis skin color. Much to his
dismay, when he visited his grandparents on Maui one summer, he fought three Hawaiian
boys working with him at the carmery because ofthey thought he talked "funny" and was
walking around with his "chest out." His grandmother told him that he needed to learn
about the local people on Maui and the culture, so he started "hangin' out" and getting to
know people. He eventually returned to Hawai'i to complete his B.A. and M.D. at the
University of Hawai'i and eventually became an internist at the Maui Medical Group and
medical director ofthe Native Hawaiian Health Program Hui No Ke Ola Pono. He felt
that he needed to use his position as a doctor to be a role model for other Hawaiians and
to actively change the ways in which Hawaiians were living. Both through his own
personal experiences and his medical training, he has come to see the body as the most
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important site ofchange. Thus when I asked him about the importance ofthe Hale Mua
in his life, he emphasized the physical nature ofthe Hale Mua:
To me, the singing and dancing might be the more Hina side...I'm more the Kii
side, I guess that's just my energy, so that's-for me, it (Hale Mua) just fit. It just
fit, me, that's all. Again, the other things are wonderful, and beautiful, and very
vital and important, but it's just not for me. I like the contact, I like the
aggressiveness, and rthink that's a part of, ab, the Hawaiian culture that has not
been perpetuated enough. And I think that a lot ofmy friends from Wai'anae and
Nanakuli, they're big guys, they like to do stuff that is physical, and I think they
would love this. And at the same time it would be a way-I think the Hale Mua
is such a valuable tool to get men in, who usually would not be interested in
Hawaiian culture. To bring them in because they see something they respect. a
strong Hawaiian male who can, who's knowledgeable and strong, and, ab. They
say, "Hey, I wanna-a young guy, r wanna, Iwanna be like that guy"...that gets
them in the door, and then all of a sudden they're learning about, ab, you know
the language, they're learning more about the history, they're learning about the
culture. Ab, they're learning about working hard and sharing, you gotta, you
know, to get ready for these events, everybody has to pull their own weight. You
get into it, you're not gonna do chugs, you're not gonna go out and wish you were
drinking. You're gonna be hanging out with a lot ofthese olderguys who can
help you and give you advice (11/3/02).
Danny's story highlights the ways in which embodied experience shapes ones
identity and also frames the ways in which individuals may know their history and
culture. Importantly, the embodied actions are themselves productive of a discourse of
life that contests that ofthe "dying race."
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Part ofthat discourse includes "birth" and "rebirth," often culturally and
spiritually, as was the case for Kilkona. The interconnections of embodied practice,
rebirth, and new life became especially clear in the mo'olelo of Kyle Elama Farm.
EIarna, who graduated from Karnehameha with Kamana'opono in 1982, told me (and my
digital audio recorder) of his own experiences as we sat around in his house late one
night. Born and raised on O'abu, EIarna moved to Maui for an opening in the fire
department. Through his work he met Kyle Niikiinelua and first attended Pu'ukohola in
1996.
We sharnmed that year, yeah, the first year did a sham battle at Pu'ukoholii and
everybody loved it, and for me I thought it was the greatest thing in world. And
we did I Mua Karneharneha, a ha'a that somebody put together, I think it was
Kyle. We did that, and I thought it was just the greatest thing, brah. Nothing
bettah dan dat. Ranked it right up deab wit' da birt' ofmy daughtah. Just
identifying wit' who we are, you know. Finally finding one place. Urn, being
able to express self in a way that I nevah did before. It was just awesome...J
consider myself being born, reborn there, urn, in the Hawaiian world. I (pause)
It's kinda like a place where I found myself. I found, I really found my identity as
being Kanaka Maoli. It's been such a strong, spiritual growth for me. It"it gives
me, every year it gives me strength to continue to do da tings that we do. (pause)
There's just something magical about it (I1/3102).
Ofcourse not everyone found the ceremonies as life changing as others. Sitting
down at the Kiinewai Park next to UH, I audio-taped CliffAlakai, a thirty nine year old
financial administrator at the Maui Medical Group. He attended the ceremonies for the
first time with EIama, but for him it was a "total disaster" because ofits complete lack of
organization. They had to sleep on mats on the hard ground, everyone was on their own
313
for food, and he was told to go around and collect money from people he didn't even
know. For him the sham was "really sad" because it was really small, there were people
coming out with thorns in their feet, and it like everything else there it was "totally
disorganized." Even though that first trip was such a failure in his opinion, Alakai
continued to participate and devoted his energies to organizing it in the following years.
As he thought about the transformations in the group's identity, he commented, "To me
the name doesn't matter, you know 'Hale Mua,' 'Nii Koa,' you know, it's, call it 'The
Men's Social Club,, to me the name doesn't matter; it's what you do with it." For
AJakai, who is also a member ofthe Royal Order ofKamehameha, the Hale Mua
....
provides the spiritual counterpart to the political goals ofthe Royal Order, that is the
"setting the structure of men in Hawaiian society, making it pono again, making it right."
When I asked him what the Hale Mua does for him, he responded, "It's not really what it
does for me, but what I can do for it, kinda like what John F. Kennedy said. I don't-the
Hale Mua doesn't needmeper se, but it need my energy, and my, my 00, my intellect, or
whatever I have to offer to make it go because it's really one of those that sum ofthe, you
know the whole is greater than the sum of the parts." However, he did feel that his
overall involvement with the Hale Mua and the Royal Order have made him "closer to
the ancestors" (11/30/02) and made him open to the ways that the "ancients" are
"guiding" him.
With a stable job, a strong marriage, four healthy children, and a number of
positions in community organizations, Alakai seemed to surely have ancestors who, like
the meaning ofhis name, "lead, guide and direct." Others too have found spiritual
guidance in the group. Sitting down at 'UIrumehame Beach Park awaiting the arrival of
Puka, Kiikona, PakI, and a day of canoe surfing on Puka's wa'a (canoe), Kamika
Nakanelua and I talked about his life and the place ofthe Hale Mua. Kamika grows all of
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the 'awa that the Mua uses, a laborious task that requires as much prayer as it does
watering and digging. Yet the importance of 'awa in the group cannot be overstated, not
only for its usage as a ceremonial drink, but also for the sharing of mo'olelo that occurs
with the 'awa ceremonies. Kamika also weaves with incredible skill all of the plates and
baskets that are used in ceremonial eating; likewise he disposes ofthe articles when they
are finished. When I asked him what the Hale Mua meant for him personally, he looked
out on the waves and responded:
It's a key instrument in my life, as far as, where my friends are, that's these are
the people I'd rather hang out wit'. What we do. I guess you can call it
perpetuating Hawaiian culture, but that's what we like to do anyway, that's key
for my life. My friends, family, camaraderie, dat's all, right deah.
Kiiwika: Do you feel that it's changed you in any way?
Kamika: Oh yeah. Without da group, I would be in a whole nother realm. With
this, it's the foundation, the basis of whatever I do. With the different people
inside, we bond or we melt together, and through that there's competition, or, you
know competitive amongst each other. Still, it's more of a friendly competitive
one, but without that in life, you cannot rise to other levels, so I feel it's real key
for us. Not only myself, but everybody inVOlved. Just the camaraderie amongst
men, I think it is a great thing. Everybody should have this. It should help in
their families, and bringing families up.
Kiiwika: Do you see it, that it's helped in your Olm family and relations with
other people?
Kamika: Oh yeah. It keeps me grounded, eh, sometimes. At times, if I nevah
have dese types of friends, you know I'd, maybe I'd be off holoholo (going) in da
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wrong way, eh. So yeah it keeps me grounded, eh. It's a key, keyting in my life
(6/29/02).
Kamika revealed a side to me that I had not seen before. For the most part I had always
seen Kamika as the clown, always ready to poke fun at anyone and anything. Even when
I asked him about the issue of spirituality, he stated that the Hale Mua is like his
"religion" and gave this example:
When we go to da heiaus and make our prayahs, it comes true. You know, and I,
I put this-for example: One yeah we go up da heiau. I'm a single man, I still am,
I get girlfriend heah and deah, I nevah-I was tinking, "Man, when I wen' move
heah, I need to get me one wife and kids, you know, make some, start one family
and stuff," even do' I not really ready, yeah? I had one job, but not da best. I
went to da heiau and prayed, "Oh akua, give me one wife and kids," eh? Next ting
you know dat yeah, I got someone else's wife and deah kids (both ofus laugh).
So you know, as far as asking fo' tings, you have to ask specifically! (laughing)
Oh, next yeah I run up I tell "Oat's notwhat I meant." (laughing) And he took
that wife and kids back (laughing). So I ask specifically now, you know. Heh.
Akua has a way of humbling you in certain ways (6/29/02).
In many ways he epitomizes the tradition ofPolynesian clowning. Hereniko argues that
both secular and ritual clowning are special types ofembodied and discursive practices
that make political commentary and restore balance in situations that threaten to become
oppressive when overly laden with mana-power and prestige (Hereniko 1994; 1995).
Indeed, Kamika's cornie antics work to release tension, put people at ease, and even
check the authority of his cousin and our po'o, Kyle. He referred to his role as "the
heartbeat," the guy who keeps everybody going. Indeed, as I will discuss in the
316
conclusion, it was his intervention into the singular authority ofmy own narrative that
brought a new life to my own thinking and writings.
Another person who fostered in me a deeper understanding ofthe Mua was Puka
Ho. Born and raised in Kaimuki, O'ahu, he moved to Maui to get away from the
dangerous life he was living. After going from job to job, he finally became a county
lifeguard and soon afterwards got married to his wife Holly. In the 1999 practice I
described earlier, he was the one who asked me ifI ever participated. Three years later,
he still asks me that same question, but on a deeper level that critiques my own personal
as well as anthropological detachments. He is an avid canoe surfer and often takes the
other guys out on his wa'a. In April 2002, I met him and Piiki Cabatingan at his house
with my video-camera, and conducted my first and only joint interview. Puka's request
to involve others in the interview highlighted the value he gave to the formation and
maintenance of communal and egalitarian modes ofrelating, a practice which is much
more Hawaiian than the approach I was planning with my one-on-one interviews.
Tellingly, the most important thing he remembered from his first practice at the Armory
was that Kyle told the newcomers, "I dunno all da ansahs, brah, but I can find you one
means fo' get yo' ansah." Puka respected Kyle's honesty and willingness to do what he
could for the others, and decided that "dis is good braddahs." His first time at
Pu'ukohola was an "eye openah" and something that put him on a new "path."
Puka: So was, dat was one realeye-openah fo' me. But, had one part on da heiau
wen I was standin' up, and da kahunas [priests] in, you know on da top side, and
den' had all da ali'i guys, dey was dress as ali'i [chiefs] on da uppah side...[I] look
at us, and everybody in malo [loincloth] and all dis kine stuff, an' out deah I was
like probably da third time I weah malo, and I was like, "Oh, brah, I nevah tan my
'okole [butt]," my 'okole stay full white (Piiki laughing), I stay tinking, "Oh, I
317
stay fuJI shame," and I look on da side, "Oh, braddah's ass mo' white den mine!"
(Pili laughs) "His jus' as white! (Kawika laughs) Oh, not too bad, not too bad."
(laughing subsides)
But da ting what wen' kinda really get me was, at one point I just was lookin'
around and trippin' out, and fo' me was just like I was readin' one history book,
and had one, I wen' open one page, had one big picture, and I jus' wen' get
suckedright into da page, poom! and I was in da middle ofhist-one history
book, eh. (looking around) whooa. Beause guys spea/dn' Hawaiian and you not
knowing what dey spea/dn' about, and, everybody's in full dress, and, "Whoa,
brah, dis is heavy." So when I came back, I told myself, "Well, I gotta do some
'olelo classes." And 'ass when I ask Pili. I made one deal wit' Paid, I do
sometin' fo' him, he teach me Hawaiian. So he wen' get me--get da ball roIling
fo' me, and den now I'm enrolled at, ah, MCC (Maui Community College), eh.
Pili: Yeah!
Puka: So, urn, da Hale Mua had a lotto do with [going?] back to school, eh. And
a lot of values dat Kyle, Kyle puts out deah fo' da guys in da Hale Mua is, you
know, basically take care yo' family, take care yo' stuff, you know, your own
stuff, do what you gotta do, do what you tink is right. And (pause) I tank him fo'
dat, because if, you know I nevah run into dis bunch ofguys, I probably would be
still drinking beer aftah work every day, and instead of, tinking about what I do,
and howI do it.
Kawika: So you feel it's had a real positive impact on your life?
Puka: Oh yeah
Kawika: Changed?
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Puka: Well, yeah, urn, yeah, real positive impact, because, when I was younger, I
grew up, my dad would drink every night, come home bus' up my maddah, bus'
me up, you know, send my maddah to one hospital (pause) and, so you know da'
kine role models, das, how you figah, oh, well, I goin' get oldah, I goin' worlc,
come home drunk. And Nakiine!ua wen' show dat dere's anadah pat' fo' take, eh
(4/18/02).
Puka was not the only person in the Mua whose preconceptions of family
violence were changed by Kyle. Richard Thomas Bissen, Jr. would often witness fights
between the men in his family. Rick was about thirty five when he attended his first
meeting in 1997, which he thought was going to be more of a discussion group. He was
surprised to find that not only were the men training in martial arts, but they were also
called Nii Koa, which was his mother's maiden name.
You know when I got there, and they said that the name of the group was Nii Koa,
by the way, the very first meeting I went to, you know, there's varying
interpretations ofthat, urn (pause). The way my mom them had interpreted their
name, their family [name] was, you know "the warriors" or the way they saw it
was urn, you know like "the fighters" because there was, there was a lot of
fighting within the family, I mean a lot of hard-headed Hawaiians who
wanted-was stubbom, and resorting to physical violence was a, was a, just a
natural, was a natural thing, among family...
But it's funny, when ah, Niikiine1ua explained it he said, "You know, it doesn't
have to mean 'the warrior' meaning, like the violence." The term, the way they
wanted the term to be understood was "the courageous." And, the best example
they gave, which is what has stuck with me is, the courage to be a young,
Hawaiian, male, and to wear a malo in public, and to say "This, I am not ashamed
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of who 1 am or what 1 stand for." And it's that you have the courage to live your
belief(5/2/02).
1felt like things came full circle as 1listened to Rick speak those last words, for 1 was
sitting in the same chair in his office when he frrst told me that defmition in 1997 as he
invited me to join the group. He was the Maui county prosecutor at the time, and he
knew me through my mother, who was deputy prosecutor, and through my involvement
with the Hawaiian language immersion program. Yet as I listened to him speak during
the interview, 1found we had even more in common than 1 thought: we both spent some
of our young childhood years growing up on Army bases on the U.S. continent, spoke
with a strong "haole" accent when we came back to Maui (I never got rid ofmine
though), attended St. Anthony Catholic School from elementary (though 1ended up
graduating from Kamehameha), went away for college and returned for graduate school,
and traced our mothers' family roots to Pi'ihana, Wailuku (my grandmother and aunty
are still close friends with his family). OQe ofthe sharpest wits 1 have ever met, Rick had
me rolling as he shared his childhood stories of working for his grandfather's Iii'au
catering business and piggery in Pi'ihana.
At first, you know when 1 was young I used to be proud riding on the back ofmy
grandpa's truck to go and pick up all da slop from all the, all the different uh,
Kahekili Terrace, all the homes down there. Uh, our job would be to run out, you
know get the five gallon bucket and dump it in the big fifty-five gallon drums, and
shoot the person's bucket down, and replace their bucket. Everybody had their
own; it's kinda like delivering newspaper, everybody had a (pause) alittle
idiosyncrasy that they wanted it done a certain way, like turn the cover over, or
hang it back up, or whatever. You had to know everybody's thing, when you
went to go, you didn't just go and grab it...Um, you know some days would be the
320
days to castrate pigs, other days would be to watch the moms give their birth and
separate the babies out, I mean there's a lot of work keeping that farm going. Ah
you had well over a hundred pigs, we had a lot. (clearing throat) you had the
boar, and all the sows, and, it was a big operation that, you know I kinda thought
that was every kid's summer, I figured everybody must be doing this someplace.
But was funny was as we were getting older, then we tried to hide being in the
slop truck (laughs). hah, hah, initially you think you kinda cool, like you standing
up in the back of a truck, right, looking around making sure your friends see you,
kinda waving at 'em, like "yeah, I'mout here, collecting some slop and hows that,
pretty rugged." Couple years later, you goin' "Oh man, I don't want anybody to
see me," and my friends go "AAH, Look at you! Collecting slop!" especially with
the, the girls. I like, "oh, no!" you know you try to find a job back at da ranch, so
you don't have to be out on the road riding around. (clearing throat) I think that, I
think that buildscharactah, I not shuah (laughter). Or at least it teaches you to
hide, when you see friends (5/2/02).
I truly enjoyed hearing Rick's stories and felt much closer as he shared his life
experiences with me. Though I never worked on a farm, there were many other points of
similarity that I readily identified with. It became clearer to me why he thought I would
be interested in the group back in late 1997. I remembered my sense ofexcitement when
my mom came home and told me that Rick wanted to speak to me about being a part of
the Nil Koa group. I had seen a video ofwhat I thought was "the lua group" on the local
cable access channel AKAKU. Ofcourse it turned out that it wasn't a lua group, but still
I stuck with it and am now writing a dissertation on it. As ifreading my mind, Rick went
on.
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And eventually the group became known more as the "Hale Mua"; it wasn't to
distinguish ourselves from the rest, but for a lot of people Nii Koa was "oh, da's
da lua group, da's da the lua group." As you well know and as people have come
to know, the Hale Mua or the men's place, as it has been explained to me, is much
more broad...It's a very broad knowledge, taking advantage of all these people
who have this information that we can try to tap into, to where, I mean I'm so
proud to be among these people that have made the commitment to learn the
culture and to live the culture, more importantly. Db, and not just once a year at
Pu'ukoholii, but live it all the time. Urn, that's been real rewarding. And I don't
know ofany time in history where something like this has everhappened, any
time in history, where we are able to step out ofour modem, complex, sometimes
when we get too complex lives, and it would be, just men, doing some things of
old, enjoying it, passing it on, you know, living it (512/02).
The juxtaposition ofbeing "modem" and doing Hawaiian things of "old" or
"tradition" was a common theme discussed by men. Many spoke of "living in two
worlds," and stepping between the two. This experience was typically mediated by the
wearing ofthe malo and participation in ceremonies. Back in Puka's house, I directed
my questions to Pili Cabatingan, a forty five year old county worker in the horticulture
department, was one ofthe true "Maui Boys" (i.e., born, raised, and spent his whole life
on-island). Pili also mixed and served the 'awa in the ceremonies, held classes in
Hawaiian language, and recently began to lead huaka'i (trips) with a knpuna named Rene
Sylva into the different parts of the island to look at native plants. When I asked him to
describe his first experience at Pu'ukoholii, he echoed Puka's metaphor of being sucked
into a history book. He also commented on the sight ofeveryone wearing malo, and then
discussed the ways that he came to feel "comfortable" in "both" worlds.
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I jus' was like "Ro, wow, everybody. Da's how you gotta ac' oahea? Wow, da's
pretty trippy," you know. But da's not one act, da's what dey believe in. We go
do dis, we goin' do 'em Ii'dis. And da's not one act fo' anybody, da's, da's
doing deah cultah, doin' ouah cultah. Can do bot'. Ifwe live Ii' dis 'today in
modern society in da house, it's da same ting when put on oUah malo and do dat.
'Ass just one addah side ofmy life. If we do dat, put on one malo everyday, and
den we come Ii' dis, it's just da opposite, same ting. It's dat, you put on one malo
today, go fo' dat. You live Ii' dat fo' one yeah, "Oh, I goin' back to da addah, go'
put on my pants, go shopping mall." Can do dat too. No mattah which way, bot'
ways comfortable. Cause ofdese guys doin' em all da time makes it feel
comfortable, makes it accepted, not something strange, eh, kupanaha, eh. It's a
real ting (4/18/02).
One of the men who now puts on a malo regularly is Jacob Kana. I taped our
interview sitting outside his Waihe'e house next to his taro patches. When I asked him
about the malo, he admitted an initial embarrassment when he first wore one at the Ritz
Carlton Celebration of the Arts, but stated, "Now it doesn't even boddah me. Now I can
jus' put on one malo; when I come out heah, when I work in my taro patch I put on my
malo. To me bettah too, you no stain yo' shorts!" (6/28/02). Born in 1971 and raised in
the small taro farming and fishing village of Kahakuloa, Jay was one ofthe few men who
grew up in a truly rural area, something especially notable for someone his age. I asked
him how he first heard about the Mua. He met Elama Farm through his wife, but when
Elama invited him to join, he was "doing all kine addah stuff dat wasn't good" and so
declined because he "nevah like bring dat to da group." Eventually, he "jus' wen' cut all
dat out" and decided to join. He remembered his first practice at Pi'ihana, where the
group was practicing in 1997-1998.
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I really liked the group because, first ofall it's like, ah, just a bunch ofmen, eh,
just all local braddahs. just gettin' togeda and stuff. That, to me, dat's what we
need, dat's what was missing, all dis time. Cause like everybody else, like da
wahines Ii' dat, dey had hula and stuffIi' dat, but to. me was, I dunno, I nevah like
hula. Hula wasn't my ting, was more, I dunno, I used to tink was so£'o Was, and,
I dunno if dat's wrong or what, but da's what I used to tink, so I nevah did like
join hula. But to me nevah have notin' fo' men. And, da's why da group, I tink,
is real goodbeca~se,now at least, da Hawaiian, fo' Hawaiian men, dey get to
look at us, dis group, and see like how was befoah, and what dey used to do
befoah. Cause like, I dunno, I nevah did rink, I mean I always used to wondah
what Hawaiian men used to do, and I nevah did know. I tought you just go hunt,
you just go fish, and dat was all, but dere's more to it den dat. And I also tought I
knew my culture real good, but when I wen' join dis group, I found out dat I was
real behind and lost! (laughing) Get so much stuff, and ah, you know, I still
learning today from, ah, from da group, from everybody in da group, especially
Kyle Nakiinelua. I mean he teaches all ofus. And I'm just deah, just like
everybody else, jus' like one sponge trying to absorbwhatevah we can, from him
and from each addah, and from going to Pu'nkohola (6/28/02).
For him the Hale Mua has returned him to the taro patches and taught him much about
being a Hawaiian man. He felt that he became more responsible and communicative to
his four children, and he finally got married to Leinani in 200!. At the time ofthe
interview he had left the air conditioning business and was doing shift work at the Maui
Electric power plant, which paid better but rotated shifts and took away time from the
Hale Mua and from the family. He hoped that his kids will get a good education and get
a better job than him, and so was doing all he could to teach them what he knows.
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Peter "Lupe" Keli'iho'omanawanui Vanderpoel, a fIrefIghter from Kona, was the
same age as Jay. I interviewed him at his house in Ha'ikii with my video-camera. To my
surprise, when I arrived he was hosting a couple of other young Hawaiian men who had
cameras oftheir own. These friends of his were in the process of producing an
independent film that looked at the problem of violence among Hawaiian men, and Lupe
had been a part oftheir project. Kamika was also over at the house; I found out that he
blew a pii for a background sound the young fIlmmakers were trying to lay down. When
everyone left, we discussed many issues about the importance of taking up the kuleana to
train the youth in a pono manner so that they do not end up in the sorts ofviolent
situations that the fIlm depicted.
The Hale Mua, at least what we do, I mean it's gonna mean so many different
things to so many different people. At the same time, the Hale Mua is about
doing things that are Hawaiian, and doing things within the scope of what you're
supposed to be doing. Taking on the responsibilities that have been there all the
time. It's just that nobody's, or maybe you as an individual, haven't taken upon
yourself to do. For me, I have a son, so like I said, I want him to experience real
Hawaiian things, and know what it is to do real Hawaiian things, and to see real
Hawaiian men. That's one ofthe great things that I see about Hale Mua is that
you have guys from all walks of life, all different backgrounds. Some of 'em in
Hawai'i, some of 'em on the mainland, but they are all common in blood and in
the ideals that they hold, for what we should be doing. So, for me, it has taken on
a real personal thing, because I have my son, and my current girlfriend has a little
boy also, and basically I have taken on some ofthe responsibility for raising him
(6/27/02).
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A similar commitment to the next generation was articulated by one ofthe older
members ofthe group, Hanalei Amoral. 1 interviewed him in his home with a video
camera and asked about his various life experiences and how he looks at life now. Close
to retirement, the main priority was to "keep everybody happy, keep my family happy"
and teach his grandchildren. "I want them to leam, that's why 1 got in the Hale Mua."
He credits his own sense ofidentity to his father, whom he was especially close to for his
whole life.
1 used to go wen 1 was small kid go diving with him (dad) down NanaIruli. And 1
used to look through that little box, eh, had da glass box, I'd be on top da tube, I'd
be lookin, and him and my uncles would go down, and it was like, "Hey, when
dey goin come up?" And dey down deah and dey spear one, and go like they
notin, like dey at home, like dey just lying down on da couch, and den dey
swimmin' under da water now. Amazedhow dey could stay undah da watah long
time, sometimes two, three minutes, brah, stay undah da watah. And 1 stay on dis
big tube, and I wit' da box watchin' and lakin' da fish on da top and den puttin'
'em in da bag. So dat was da ting, you know, those was important, not havin a
nice car. Those things are just material tings, to me anyway (7/24/02).
When his father lost his job working at the Pearl Harbor shipyard in 1954, his family
relocated from the Nanakuli Hawaiian Homesteads on O'ahu to California. With the
important exception ofthe four years spent in Vietnam enlisted in the Navy, Hanalei
lived most ofhis adult life in California. When he got back from the war he got a O.E.D
through the Navy and went to mechanic school, eventually working his way up to
become a facility manager for Honda. When he and his family moved back to Maui
(where his wife was from) in 1988, the only job he could get was driving a tour bus for
$7.50 an hour. He eventually quit because he was sick of hearing all the tourists "grumble
326
about Hawaiians." He went on to work construction and eventually landed a county job
working in the waste water division, which he still holds today.
I fIrst met Hanalei at the same time as Kale Boy-working with the Hui 0 Wa'a
Kaulua in 1996-1997. They both joined the Hale Mua and the Royal Order at the same
time, and at Pu'ukoholii Hanalei took on the role ofthe "lima wela" ("hot hand"/cook) as
he had in the Hui 0 Wa'a Kaulua. I want to bring things back full circle again and end
this chapter with his story of being on the canoe. When I asked him what the most
important thing he learned sailing on the Mo'ole1e (an older double-hulled canoe built at
the same time as Hokiile'a), he responded:
It make you learn, make you realize what da Hawaiians did. How smart they
were, you know, da' kine, how dey could go from two thousand miles away, you
know. The tings that they did, and the adversities that they went through, you
know that was, I just sailed inter-island, and I sailed through a channel, Molokai
channel. Can you imagine going two thousand miles? And that was it, you sit on
the canoe and you tink, "Ho, brah, oh, my family" you know. Da Hawaiians
came from Tahiti on dese canoes; can you imagine what ifone canoe come from
across the ocean? I only go to Molokai, and its like, "Ho, you know" by da time
we get deah, it's like "Man, tank God we heah already" cause da ocean beating
you up. So, da canoe was an awakening fo' me because you get to realize how
much da Hawaiians did and how smart they were. You look all different tings,
you go up Molokai and see da fishponds, you go up to da heiaus. That one heiau
we went to I tink dey said da rocks from da addah side of da island. They don't
have trucks. So you know what it was, it was back-breaking work, brah, to carry
dose rocks. I mean you look at dat heiau, it's perfect....So Hawaiians are
knowledgeable...and today some ofus are stililearning...It's amazingbrah...And
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da ting of it is, if you Hawaiian you can say "I can go out and 1 can learn these
things, and you know what, 1 am Hawaiian, cause 1 know what my ancestors went
through, a long time ago. They did this, they did that, they busted their butt
(7/24/02).
Like Hanalei, much ofmy learning and my desire to learn more about my past
was the result ofvoyages, both literal and metaphorical. Writing my honors thesis on the
Hui was my ftrst attempt at mapping out the course ofthe next leg of my journey by
capitalizing on one ofthe very qualities that had always marginalized me when 1was
growing up-my fluency with haole discourse, both spoken and written. The journey is
much more circuitous than 1 ftrst imagined it would be, and thus the importance of a
Mlau (long house) for the wa'a. The succession oflife stories that make up this mo'olelo
are reflective of my own successive travels, departures and returns that have been
navigated through relationships of work, family, production, and place. Through the
hearing and listening of other mo'olelo, 1have come to know that not only do 1 travel on
the canoe with other Kanaka, but 1 also return home with them and together we work to
create and recreate the structures and the foundations ofthe hale.
Conclusion: life stories. place. and identity
In this chapter 1 have argued that the men of the Hale Mua actively create
connections with each other, the land, the ancestors, and the larger Hawaiian llihui
(people/nation) through the sharing oftheir mo'olelo. As fragments of narrated life
experiences, mo'olelo place speakers and listeners alike in a succession ofpersonal,
social, historical and spiritual events, and thereby actively form individual and group
subjectivities. Many ofthe men highlight life-transitions, whether in occupation, family
situation, residence, social activities, education, or cultural awareness. As such, the
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members ofthe Mua often use spatial tropes in their narrations of self and perform
identities in transition and transformation. The telling and hearing ofmo'olelo helps to
bring coherence, connection, and completion to individual and collective lives that have
either "gone out" and are now seeking to "come back," or are forced to tack between the
cultural and economic spaces of"living in two worlds." Narrative practice becomes a
way of rejoining those elements of self and society that have experienced disjuncture as a
result ofcolonialism and modernity. For the men I spoke to, discursive and embodied
acts ofviolence have produced a number of fractures along the lines ofclass, gender,
race, and place. Yet when men gather in ritual spaces oftransformation and collective
production of identity, members ofthe Hale Mua come to a deeper understanding of
themselves, their communities and their place therein. Through the mutual creation of
knowledge and exchange of emotion, the men begin to heal the fractures ofcolonialism
and make their stories and those oftheir kUpuna live again.
ENDNOTES
I Also called the "hang loose" sign, the thumb and pinky finger are extended while the
index, middle and ring fingers are closed.
2 Text and translation primarily from Kamakau (1991:141-142). Though I feel confident
in translating written prose, I hesitate when it comes to poetry and thus have used the
translation ofPukui and Barrerere. Also, this chant goes one to speak ofKaha'i's return
to Hawai'i.
3 I initially learned of Sam's dyslexia not from him in his interview but from an article
written about him by Sally-Io Keala-o-Anuenue Bowman (2000). It is from this article
that I also got some other information on specific dates. She does a wonderful job of
conveying what it is like to "hang out" with Sam and provides a nice counterbalance to
my own narrative.
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CHAPTER 8
CONCLUSION: HO'I I KA PO--RETURN TO THE PO
"I goin tell you one story. You ask Kyle Nakiinelua and Kamana'o Crabbe, you
ask dem." Sam Ka'ai shifted his weight in his chair, gripped the top of his hand-carved
cane that lay resting on his chest, and launched into a mo'olelo. I had been interviewing
Sam, in his garage for over an hour and a half. I asked him about his life, the Hale Mua,
and finally, how any of what we are doing is supposed to be relevant to the "average
Hawaiian man." He argued that there is no "average," and that the only thing average is
the modem capitalist society we live in, or the "galvanized bucket" as he likes to call it.
One of the dominant colonial narratives of self-destruction used to describe Hawaiians in
the 20
th
century is that Kiinaka are like 'alamihi crabs in a bucket-once anyone tries to
climb up and out, the others pull him or her down. Sam contested this saying, "The
trouble is that the bucket is galvanized; if it was a basket they crawl in and out...! don't
think it's the fault ofthe crabs as it is the fault ofthe environment."
He then further elaborated on and criticized the profoundly negative impacts that
colonization and modernization have had on Hawaiians and their land, and he did so by
telling mo'olelo:-stories and fragments of stories that were personal, historical, mythical,
and political. All ofthese mo'olelo were also in some way pedagogical and/or
allegorical. Very rarely did he preface any ofhis other stories in the way that he did this
one, so I strained to listen over the clangings and bangings of our bucket-the roar of
automobiles driving on the busy Pukalani road that Sam lives on-so that I could better
hear his mo'olelo.
We were marching to Nu'uanu, we were in front leading so make sure no go da
wrong place...And as we left Waikiki, we passed a bar...One girl came out and
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said, "The Hawaiians are coming!"-and the Hawaiians were coming; they were
all in malo, it was night, torches were burning, and there were hundreds coming.
And this Hawaiian man ran out from the bar, and he was excited that it was
Hawaiians are coming and he said, "Eh! The Hawaiians are coming! UP da
Hawaiians (gesturing with fist in the air)!!" When he said dat bout da third time, I
told Kamana'o, "You go tell him something; you go say next time he says 'up,'
we go pay him one visit!" hmph. You know, he was, what is this"Up the
Hawaiian?" You know, he was goin like that with his hand (gesturing with fist up
in air) "Up the Hawaiian."
So finally, you could see he was getting more and more excited, the guy must
have been about forty or fifty years old, and he didn't know what to say in
Hawaiian; he needed to show da people in da bar he drinkin' [with] dat he
Hawaiian, he needed to show us he Hawaiian, so what did he yell? "AH, AH, up
da Hawaiian, Ah, MELEKALIKlMAKA (Merry Christmas)!!" (gesturing with
fist in air) Oat's da only ting he could remember in Hawaiian. Oat
man-galvanized; dat bar galvanzed him, that man, that bar stole his soul, took
away dat ting in him that made him a Kanaka. That was not a human being, dat
was a child, forty years old, who had not passed beyond, "Ah, if I cry, you goin'
wipe my behind? IfI cry, you goin give me da bottle? IfI cry." We all saw dat. I
mean, da feeling lasted wit us for almost forty-five minutes. This, "Oh, what was
that?" You laugh because he said "mele kalikimaka," but when you gave tought
and empathy to him, you knew, he was desperately searching around for
something to say. Ifhe was his father's child, you know...he would say "1mua
Klinaka !!" (go forward Hawaiians). Almost every Hawaiian knows that. All he
could pull out at this time of, urn, expression and continuity, was "mele
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kalikimaka"---dat (pause and whisper) was sad. But eh-he said hi eh? (grinning)
"Aloha e ka po'e kanaka, rna mua (Greetings, Hawaiian people, go forward)."
So Hale Mua, rna mua, goin' forward. So it is sad, but what I'm saying is, when
you say average, I dunno, I don't think that was the average man, yeah? The
average man, ab, a young Hawaiian, ab, is, you have the two children, a
mortgage, his salary is little lower than he really needs, and I think if you gave
him ab, twenty percent more, ab, he would be buying more recreational, because
he lives in a highly excited advertising society that blurps, "Look at me, look at
me, I am more pretty than thee."
****
He kuabu ka Hale Mua: the prayers ofmen
I like to call it akuabu, eh. It's a place to come to, to send up your prayers. What
is your prayer?...This is a hale, a foundation where, you don't have to be alone if
you don't want to. And sometimes it's necessary, you know, to have company,
eh. Everybody shares da mana, and, you know, what is it you wanna do? ..We
can do dose tings.
Kyle Nakanelua on the question "What is the Hale Mua?"
All ofthe men that come to the Hale Mua have different prayers. Some are
looking for "the culture," and others are looking for a social club. Some want to learn the
language while others want a spear to hang up behind their desk. Some ofthe more
"physical" guys come to just bang heads and work out their testosterone, whereas the
more spiritually "starved" are looking for a deeper fulfillment and an outlet for their
creative energies. Such is the diversity oflife, as it has always been from the time ofthe
Po. It is also to the Po that we return as Hawaiian men seeking to overcome the colonial
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experience of loss, displacement, disunity, and pain. Whereas others have done so with
care and caution, we stepped to the edge ofthe leina and jumped at the Lele i ka Po
(chapter I). With our bodies, we sent up a collective prayer to the kupuna for the
gUidance and support that we would need to make their mo'olelo and mana live again.
ill this dissertation, I have attempted to situate these bodies jumping into the Po
by tracing out some ofthe political and cultural trajectories that led these men to the leina
at Keka'a. ill chapter 2, I provided a brief historical orientation and discussed some of
the discourses oflife and death (Ao and Po) that have been deployed in colonial and anti 
colonial projects in Hawai'i. ill chapter 3, I located the production of 'Oiwi masculinities
in Hawai'i's colonial history and neo-colonial present. Many ofthe colonial experiences
encountered by men in Hawai'i articulate with those ofMaori men in Aotearoa/New
Zealand and elsewhere, especially in the realm ofthe military and sports. Similarly,
attempts to reclaim land and identity have coincided in very related ways, not the least of
which has been through the direct influence ofMaori modes ofresistance and aggressive
cultural assertion on the ways that K1inaka Maoli have launched anti-colonial projects.
One ofthem has been the reformation ofcultural masculinities and the re-masculinization
ofculture, especially through gendered tropes of strength, as a means of reclaiming
identity in the face ofglobal tourism and its concomitant representations of a feminized
and domesticated Hawaiian body. The "warrior" image presented contested these
commodity images while also producing new tensions of gender and culture.
The comparison with the Maori case also speaks to the parallel trajectories of
colonialism in Hawai'i and Aotearoa in which settler colonies appropriated lands and
enforced a cultural hegemony that disrupted and marginalized the indigenous
populations. These histories are similar to each other but different from the colonial
projects carried out in other parts ofOceania where cultural imperialism seems to have
333
been far less complete and oppressive. Yet all areas of the Pacific have witnessed the
gendered implications ofcolonization, whether it be the substitution oftraditional
Chuukese male warrior activities with alcohol abuse and violence (Marshall 1979), the
loss ofcultnrally appropriate roads to masculine prestige and the concomitant instability
of community life in the Eastern Highlands of Papua New Guinea (Dickerson-Putman
1998), or the failure of Tongan men to achieve a satisfactory sense of manhood and thus
tum to practices of femininity as fakaleiti (James 1994). Understanding the dynamics of
current (re)configurations ofgender and culture among Hawaiian and Maori men today
provides an important comparative case for other island societies.
In chapter 4, I explored the. ways in which the deeply historic place Pu'ukohola
has been the site for numerous battles over history, identity, power, and gender. I
focused on the modalities ofrepresentation and identity formation through discourses of
history and mo'olelo. At Pu'ukohola, the mo'olelo koa of Kamehameha provided 'Oiwi
intellectuals with an important guide and tool for Hawaiian reclamation, renewal, and
unification. At the same time, haole scholars such as Gowen (1919) cited its history as
proof positive of Hawaiian barbarism and cowardice. By describing the historical
"degradation" and "death" ofthe Hawaiian race as the loss of the heroic "manhood"
possessed by Kamehameha, he highlighted the intercounections of culture, civilization,
and gender in the disarticulation of llihui and provided one ofthe most stunning examples
oftemporal othering and colonial emasculation/feminization in Orientalist discourse.
Kanaka Maoli such as Poepoe and Desha contested these narratives through mo'olelo that
spoke ofthe bravery, honor, and spiritual devotion of Kamehameha and the other ali'i
that more properly framed the events and "men of their time." Over the years though,
American colonial occupation became more thoroughly entrenched and stories such as
these were re-enacted in an ever more domesticated (and feminized) mode ofpageantry.
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The cultural nationalist movement that began in the 1970s engendered a new modality of
commemorating and re-membering history, one that sought to revitalize and bring new
life to the traditions ofthe past in efforts to bring about a much needed regime change (to
use the current war-born parlance). Ho'oku'ikabi 1991 aimed to unite Hawaiians in
body, mind, and spirit; it also sought to articulate an aggressive, serious, grounded, and
masculine approach to identity formation.
To accomplish these goals, the planning committee of Ho'oku'ikabi instituted a
very different modality for knowing about past, present and future-that ofritual. In
chapter 5, I described the process through with the rituals separated individuals from the
structure ofAmerican domination, placed them in a liminal space of authentic 'Oiwi
communitas, and returned them reinvigorated, renewed, and transformed. Importantly,
this was accomplished not only through the discursive production of symbols and
meaning, but also through embodied and performative acts that provided an intimate
engagement with the past and with fellow participants. The embodied performances at
Pu'ukoholii were particularly important in the formation ofthe Nii Koa groups on O'abu .
and Maui who instituted a warriorhood based not on violence but on courage and the
willingness to be united as one for the people and culture. Though women were not
excluded from Nii Koa, their dearth in numbers served more to highlight rather than
contest the heavily masculinized nature ofthe groups. Indeed, the original Nii Koa 0
Pu'ukohola was an exclusively male group oriented at encouraging Hawaiian men to
participate in cultural activities. Here I believe they succeeded, for Pu'ukoholii and Nii
Koa created spaces for a particular segment ofthe Hawaiian male popUlation (typically
middle-aged, middle-class) who felt alienated by both American society and the
Hawaiian movement. Many ofthese men found additional spaces for embodying
renewed identity through ritual practices involving liminality and cultural transformation
335
in the lua seminars that began in 1993. On Maui, the emergence ofthese new groups
contrasted with a decline in the membership ofthe Royal Order. These developments
signaled a divergence in generational understandings of being a Hawaiian man. Thus the
Royal Order made concerted efforts to connect with these younger men who were of the
makua generation.
Through various splits, reorganizations, and convergences, Na Koa 0 Maui took
on the form of Hale Mua, a place for men to send up their prayers and to reinvigorate the
masculine aspects of Hawaiian culture. In chapter 6, I detailed the ways in which they
maintained the philosophy ofho'oku'ikahi-the ritual and physical pounding together of
disparate entities into unified mass. Theirs was a prayer for the creation ofKlinaka
seeking a better tomorrow, an alternative to the colonial system they were forced to
endure day in and day out. A rich variety of discursive and embodied practices ritually
produced the liminality and communitas that allowed men to escape, if only briefly, neo 
colonial society and in the process access their ancestral and innate knowledge and being.
These experiences were authenticated because they were embodied, just as the cultural
body itself was reclaimed from the hegemonic stricture of tourist dominated capitalist
society (Desmond 1999; Trask 1993b). By working with and creating the "many bodies"
(kinolau) ofthe gods through the material culture, their innate knowledge and mana
emerged and gave life to their history. Testimonies ofthose who participated show that
for many, rituals reinvigorated the mana KIT and instantiated it through the healing,
training and rebuilding ofthe body, mind, and spirit. The embodied commemoration and
reliving ofhistory through dance and performance created new mo'olelo.
In chapter 7, I described the ways in which men told life stories that spoke to their
shared experiences as Hawaiian men and placed them as a collective in a succession of
talk, ancestors, people, spirits, experiences, and places that informed new understandings
336
oftheir subjectivities. Briggs (1986) directs our attention to the importance of attending
to local modes of talk and the "metapragmatics" that signal what kind of acts are being
performed when individuals are speaking. In the Hale Mua, the sociality of 'awa
drinking and sharing mo'olelo provides a strong example ofthe critical role ofnarrative
forms in enabling the construction of desired social realities. My own ability to
participate in that world, which is predicated upon my history as a member ofthe group
and as a fellow Hawaiian male, is a precondition for the kind ofethnography I have
written.
More over, the very survival ofthat mode oftalk is embedded in a larger history
ofcolonization and struggles for decolonization that likewise serves as the context for the
activities ofthe Hale Mua. Mo'olelo as political and social histories are inextricably
bound up with mo'olelo as personal narratives. By sharing life stories, the men articulate
and come to understand the larger economic, political, and cultural processes ofU.S.
colonialism through personal tales of work, travel, family, and life transitions. When Sam
tells ofhis own life experiences, he does so from the position of one who has been an
actor in Hawaiian history, and whose eyes have seen many voyages. Those who have not
yet begun the process of "decolonizing the mind" (Ngugi wa 1986) and critiquing the
colonial order of things are caught unaware by Sam's verbal missiles of challenges to be
"real" and his explications ofthe ways in which many Hawaiians are not. As an elder
who has seen a very different way of life by growing up with the kUpuna ofKaupo, yet
also gone through many of the same struggles as any other urban Hawaiian, Sam brings
the lived history of a Hawaiian man to life in ways that are painfully real. Yet at the
same time, his ability to reassess and to take part in the creation of a new spiritual and
social sense of selfand community render his mo'olelo a powerful parable for the
possibilities ofchange, transformation, and decolonization.
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In the modern configuration of culture and land in neocolonial Hawai'i, a
commodified and feminized image of the islands is marketed to the U.S. and the world as
an alluring, domesticated, and welcoming place for visitors. Meanwhile Hawaiian
nationalists contest these representations and work to expose the illegality of American
occupation and the injustices of cultural imperialism (Kauanui 2002; Sai n.d.; Trask
1999). However, such challenges to the cultural and political order are often disregarded
as fanciful imagination ("We're all Americans, get used to it!") or aggressively attacked
by those who seek an end all Hawaiian entitlements and the erasure of any signs of
trouble in paradise (Cummings 2003; Kanehe 2001; Lindsey 2002; Osorio 2001).
In light ofthis situation, how precisely does a close attention to language (as
spoken narratives or official histories), culture (however one defines it), and ritual
performance (such as the conducting of ceremonies on the heiau) lead to any sort of
substantive change in the political or social status of 'Oiwi Maoli vis-a-vis the state, U.S.
imperialism, and global capitalism? I do not pretend to have a definitive answer for this
question, but I would argue that cultural movements enable new sorts ofpolitical and
social action, especially in Hawai'i and the Pacific (and arguably throughout the world)
where important historical transformations have occurred with the recoding ofcultural
categories, especially in the "contact zones" (Pratt 1992) ofwestem and indigenous
islander encounters (Sahlins 1981; 1985). Thus in the context ofthe Hawaiian cultural
nationalist movement, any project ofcultural assertion and decolonization aims to bring
about societal changes by disrupting American hegemony and fostering a new sense of
'Oiwi identity and politics. At a time when the meanings and definitions of being
Hawaiian are debated more hotly than ever, as well as the stakes that ride on any legal
and political determinations, public enactments of Kanaka Maoli history and culture in
critical spaces that work to solidify contested social realities have an important
338
transfonnative effect that both imbues actors with a new sense of identity and subverts
the dominant understandings ofHawai'i.
The Keepers of Aloha March and Lele i ka Po that I opened with in chapter I
.provides some insight into these dynamics. As a uniquely public, political, cultural, and
historical event, the march and lele created a context for multiple fonnations and
perfonnances of subjectivity and identity that in turn defined the larger significance of
the event as one that told a particular story and made a particular statement about history,
nation, and culture. Ku'e 'Elua and the narrations of it, both personal (recollections) and
public (newspaper, radio, television), spoke to Hawaiian unity, strength, aggression,
action, and continuity (Kana'e 2001; Kubota 2001; Minchew and Keahi 2001; San
Nicolas 2(01). These were important contestations of the dominant colonial narrative of
the "disappearing/ed native" that the lawsuits being protested were proffering: Hawaiian
programs, rights, and entitlements are illegal because Hawaiians no longer (if in fact they
ever did) constitute a separate political entity with indigenous claims to place, culture,
and nation. Similarly, the high visibility of Hawaiian men as marshals and as ceremonial
participants refuted the discourse of emasculation and absence that has so long
.configured notions of Kanaka males.
The participants sought not only to make a "statement," but also to effect changes
and transfonnations that would be at once personal, social, political and spiritual. The
men ofthe Hale Mua and Na Koa who jumped that day first transfonned at the end of the
march by stripping offtheir clothes and donning their malo. After performing their ha'a,
they stepped to the pu'u where spirits make the transition from the world ofthe living to
that ofthe ancestors. The lele kawa created a space both in and out oftime, and thus
representative ofthe past, present, and future. Likewise, the personal mo'olelo that
participants told oftheir experiences in the march became "cultural tools" (Wertsch
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2000) that they used not only to recount occurrences but also to situate themselves as
actors and subjects in and of history (White 2000). When I asked Kyle to describe the
Lele i ka Po, he explained:
It's an event that is supposed to uplift the people, ho'oulu the people, and to show
the courage ofthe chiefs-this was done in old times by Kahekili, yeah-and urn,
it gives everyone, you know, something to prepare for, and, and to do for, to look
forward to, and to commemorate. You know, the last time that was done was
about a hundred years ago, yeah. I think was a hundred years ago. And, so, we
commemorated or we closed that event, with that, that lele kawa. And, ifyou
think about it, closing the event with an event such as this, yeah, really really
heavy. Really heavy. The leina-a sacred place-this is what we doing with our
sacred sites, you know. We utilizing 'em again, in the context that it was always
used for. And therefore the content was to, to do a ha 'a, or a, a sacred dance,
yeah, versus a secular dance, you know, a hula. We did a ha'a that invigorated all
the men, and ho'omanamana ai, give dem strength and courage and powerto leap
off this 40 foot cliff, you know, into the water below....
Kawika: So you would say that the purpose ofthe lele kawa was, what?
Kyle: Basically a lot ofthings, yeah. Number one is to close the event, you know.
We walked (pause) to show our kiipuna, yeah, our kiipuna i hala ai, our kUpuna
that have passed, to show dem dat, eh, we still heah, we know what our rights are,
and we're standing up, and we're walking about it. We're not just talking about
it, we're not crying about it, we're not drinking about it. We're walking about it.
We're trying to show everyone else in this time that (pause) we exist, we will not
340
be forgotten, and we will be heard. (pause) And, the leaping off into the Po,
(pause) is, is a ritual that shows the kiipuna or shows heaven that, you know,
we're willing to cast offall these things that is in this time, to become one with
you folks, and ceremonially give ourselves up, yeah, on behalf of the people, on
behalf of the, the 'oihana (activity), eh, this event, and (pause) and give ourselves
to da fate at hand, eh (4/17/02).
Actively celebrating, retelling, commemorating, and reliving the mo'olelo
demonstrates that the intergenerationallinks thought to have been severed are intact and
are being maintained and perpetuated by the 'aiwi who are themselves defmed tbrough
their place a succession of stories. Historical events become personal accounts that the
men share with each other as they reaffirm their connections with one another and with
kilpuna and work to re-member and reshape their world as Kanaka men.
It is important to note, though, that these stories speak to both the possibilities and
the limitations oftransition and transformation, for despite the men's ability to "cast off
the things ofthis time" and leap into another realm, they must return to a world that
appears to be relatively unchanged. Such experiences often lead to a feeling of"burning
up in re-entry" and struggling to live in two worlds, thus bringing into question the extent
to which decolonization can actually occur. It is here that Kanaka must take what they
have brought back from the Po and use it in ways that will bring about the changes they
desire. We must also remember that Po is an obscurity, and the answers one receives
from the Po are not always seen or understood readily (cf. Ho'omalu 2003). There is
both hope and despair in this insight, for it requires one to have faith and to trust in the
'aumakua, kiipuna, and akua whose world we do not know. Yet through our mo'olelo,
we understand that tbrough the pule and ho'omana, the pono leaders rule over the land
and kii i ka moku.
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On being real
I conclude this writing with a word on ethnography and the possibilities ofthe
ethnographic method as a tool for indigenous (and other) researchers seeking to carry out
engaged or other fonns of activist scholarship and intellectual activity. Whereas many
scholars conducting cultural analysis and criticism focus on public discourses and the
politics ofrepresentation that emerge between dominant and counter discourses, I have
combined the study of public enactments and media with the close-up investigation of
cultural politics through the experience ofparticular men and their social worlds. One
way I have done this has been by listening closely to their mo'olelo and participating in
naturally occurring fonns oftalk where those worlds are created. This has served as a
particularly useful methodology, for it has shed light upon the ways in which individuals
variously take up or ignore the dominant representations of Hawaiian men and also the
extent to which various cultural nationalist projects succeed and fail and why they do so.
Yet at the same time, being so close and personally tied to a group leads to a
number ofserious limitations. The first is the inability to ask certain types of questions
that one intuitively knows are inappropriate and would damage relationships if they were
raised. Another is the extent to which a completely open critique of an individual or
group can be articulated without betraying the trust that these men have put in me.
As an indigenous anthropologist, I took as my central tenet the importance of
understanding the rights and responsibilities accorded me when the men ofthe Hale Mua
allowed me to carry out this project. I have experienced great joy in talking story with
the guys and writing about their lives. I endeavored to do so with integrity and honesty,
and as such I circulated earlier drafts ofmy work to the men. Most were quite happy
with what I had done, and I felt redeemed in my assertion that native anthropology can
offer insights that are both empowering for the community and socially responsible.
342
All ofthat changed when I found out that Kamika was fuming when he read what
I wrote about him. Moreover, I only discovered this "through the grapevine" nearly a
month after he had read the draft I gave him. I immediately called him and we met the
next day. Ifyou will recall my discussions of him throughout the dissertation, I had
perceived him as the clown. Though I had long thought ofthat role in the way that
Hereniko (1994) had described it as one ofpolitical commentary and social leveling, my
original representations made him look like nothing more than a fool. I had never
intended to hurt his feelings, but I was accustomed to poking fun at him in person and so
carried out that same practice in my writing. Yet words take on a very different mana
when put into print and when taken out of the context of social life; mine came across as
"false cracks" and succeeded only in angering and insulting him. He told me that he was
ready to come over and put on the "pads" (that we use for sparring) and go at it with me
since I saw fit to make a fool ofhim in my "fourth grade book report" that the whole
world was going to read.
Yet as he went on, he also admitted that it was more than just the tenor of the
words that affected him, but also my callous choice of segments from his life story that in
his mind did not even represent the most important things he told me. This was more
than an issue of authorial selectivity; it was an act of violence, one that articulated with a
longer succession of violence that he had struggled to overcome throughout his entire
life.
Moreover, he questioned the very ways in which I was writing, for in his opinion
it did not carry the mana of the kiipuna that exudes from works that "have prayer" with
them. He asked me ifI had prayed, and ifI had made the offerings of •awa and food that
we learn about in the Mua while I was writing. I hung me head and said that I had not. In
writing about the Po, I reduced it to an object of discourse, one that was completely
343
removed from the spiritual realm it came from. He then went on to tell me that in
focusing solely on the journeys ofmen coming to the Mua to heal or find themselves, I
was blinded to the fact that they also come to heal others and to give their mana
selflessly.
We spoke for hours into the night, and a new perception not only of his
importance to the group, but also the importance of true dialogue in the processes of
anthropological work, social relations, and decolonization. It hurtto hear the things that
Kamika told me, just as it must have hurt for him to read what I read. His pain only
festered over the weeks as he started questioning his own sense of self and wondering if I
was right; I was after all getting a Ph.D. All the while there was a hihia growing between
us that I was unaware of but others were, and in the creation ofthat hihia, everyone was
affected to some degree. Yet because we are friends, and indeed family through the Mua,
we take these pains and deal with them. In talking them out and opening up ourselves,
we were able to set things right.
I grew immensely from the experience, and in talking with Kyle about it later he
said, "Hey, we're a family, we gotta deal with these things. Ifwe can't handle it, we ain't
real." Indeed, it was by being real that my relations with others in the Mua have become
stronger. Likewise, these struggles and triumphs produce a deeper kind ofknowledge
that is filled with emotion and wisdom. Karnika too was transformed by the experience,
as was the whole Mua in some way or another. The filing of this dissertation is sure to
set into motion another complex of affect-laden actions and reactions, discourses and
representations, and hopefully a prayer. Indeed, this was the central project of the Mua to
begin with-pounding together ofdisparate elements, suffering the pain and the heat,
being melded into one, sending lip a prayer, and moving forward as men. I have taken
the kuleana to talk about things that others cannot, just as Kamika maintains a similar role
344
of keeping the "heartbeat" of the group going by checking authority, as he did with this
dissertation.
And so we all continue to struggle in this strangelove project of decolonization
and reclamation. We are constantly changing, transforming, and transitioning. This
dissertation has captured only a fragment of the story, one that is told differently by each
of the members that add their words to it. Yet it is one that would not exist without this
multiplicity of voices and experiences, and it is in the collective telling that we make our
mo'olelo live. It is with this mana'o that I send my story back into the Po.
-
Figure 54. "Canoe Dream." Local canoe clubs greet men who jumped
offPu'u Keka'a in the Lele i Ka Po, March 4,2001.
Photo taken by Carl "Kale Boy" Eldridge.
345
GLOSSARY OF HAWAITAN WORDS
Definitions are taken liberally from Pukui and Elbert's Hawaiian Dictionary (1986) and
from my understanding ofconcepts and terms, especially as they are understood and used
in the context of this dissertation, which may be different from usages elsewhere.
'ii'aia. legendary bird of the akua Kane believed to have taken the shape ofthe 'ii, the
booby bird.
'aha 'aiDa. feast.
'aha'ula. oracle cord used by chiefs since time ofLlloa, as described in writings of
Solomon PeleiohOlani, Joseph Poepoe, and Rev. Stephen L. Desha.
ahulkuahu. altar.
'ahu Iii'i. ti-leaf rain cape
'ahu'ula. feather cloak or cape worn by ali'i.
'aikapu. politico-religious system in place at the time of Kamehameha Pai'ea in which
eating was proscribed with kapu, notably those separating men from women and
commoners from chiefs (see chapter 2). In ceremonies of the Hale Mua, it is a
feast dedicated to the male akua and the men ofthe Mua.
'ai. eat, food, starch.
'aina. meal, to eat.
'aiDa. land, earth (or "that which feeds").
'aiDoa. to eat freely without kapu. While under the 'aikapu system, 'ainoa were
frequently carried out when an Ali'i Nui passed and the new political system and
kapu were instituted. When Kamehameha passed, the 'ainoa proclaimed by
Ka'ahumanu was a permanent disavowal of the old system ofeating restrictions.
346
aim. bonito, skipjack tuna.
alma. god, deity.
'alaea. red ocherous earth used for coloring salt, for medicine, for dye, and formerly for
purification ceremony ofhi'uwai; reddish and orange-reddish color(s) worn by
participants at Pu'ukohoHi ceremonies and by the Hale Mua.
alaka'i. lead, guide, direct; leader.
'alana. offering, especially a free-will offering, contrasting with a prescribed mohai.
alanui. street, road, highway, thoroughfare, waterway, course.
ali'i. chief/ess, ruler, leader. Under the 'aikapu, there were a number of different ranks
ofali'i, foremost being ali'i nui (high/supreme chief).
aloali'i. royal court, chief's entourage.
aloha. love. affection, compassion, mercy, sympathy, pity, kindness, sentiment, grace,
charity. Also used with the word 'iiina to denote love of land and country.
'ano. kind, type, character, nature, disposition, sort, way.
ao. light, day, world of the living; enlightened; also: a cloud; earth, realm.
'ape'ula. type ofred tapa used to wrap Kii images.
'apu. coconut shell cup.
a'u. swordfish, marlin, spearfish. The bill is used in the manufacture of pahoa and other
meakaua.
'aumakuaJ'aumiikua[plural). family and personal god, ancestral deity (kahako on the
second "ii" denotes plural).
'awa. kava (piper methysticum) plant, native to the Pacific; root is processed to make a
narcotic drink used in ceremonies and social contexts.
347
hii. to breathe; breath, life; also: four, fourth.
ha'a. a bent-knee dance performed in ceremonies
hiikii moa. chicken fighting. Sport carried out in Hale Mua training in which two
contestants join hands and try to pull the other to the ground while holding their
own foot in back of them with their free hand.
hiikoko. wrestling.
haku mele. a composer ofmele; to compose mele.
hala. pass, die; also: pandanus.
halau. long house; school.
hiilau huJa. hula school, troupe, group.
hiiliiwai. meeting.
hale. house.
hale 'aina. eating house. Under the 'aikapu, it was the house that women and children
not inducted into the hale mua ate.
hale mna. men's eating house of •aikapu period in which men fed the male'aumlikua
and akua and carried out men's activities (see chapter 2).
hale 0 Papa. women's place of worship; heiau dedicated to Papa and female akua.
hale kualhale kuku. house in which women beat kapa and carried out women's
activities.
haua kiilai. carving, wood work.
hOOai. adopt, care for, feed.
haole. foreign, foreigner; now primarily signifying a white person. Various
interpretations on the etymology of the word have been offered, one being that
foreigners were thought to have been without breath (hii - 'ole).
348
hau. Hibiscus tiliaceus, lowland tree found throughout the Pacific. Men of Hale Mua
use fibrous inner bark to make rope and cordage and wood for practice spears.
heiau. place of worship, temple, shrine. Many types ofheiau existed, not all of which
were elaborate structures. The hale mua was a type ofdomestic heiau for the
men.
hihia. entanglement, problem, trouble.
hi'uwai. cleansing ceremony, typically done by immersing one's body into the ocean
with no clothes on.
ho'ailona. sign, omen.
ho'ike. show, present/presentation.
bOkii. star.
holokai. ocean voyaging.
honi. exchange of breath through the touching of nostrils and inhaling the other person's
hii.
ho'oikaika kino. exercise; strengthen the body.
ho'oilo. wet season, approximately November through April.
ho'okupu. tribute, ceremonial gift.
ho'omana. worship, religion; also: empower, place in authority, give mana.
ho'omanamana. impart mana to.
ho'opapa. contest ofwits, challenge.
ho'oulu/ho'ii1u. make grow.
hoa. fruit, tuber, corm, egg, seed, offspring.
huaka'i. journey, excursion, trip.
hni. organization, group.
349
hula. dance. Typically referring to Hawaiian dance in its various traditional (kahiko)
and modem ('auwana) forms.
hula ho'oipoipo. a courting dance.
huli. top portion of kalo used for replanting; also: turn, overturn.
i'a. fish; also any meat item eaten with any starch.
ihe. spear.
ihu. nose; also bill ofthe a'u.
'i'i. admired deep, rasping sound and tremor in chanting.
'inti. search.
imu. underground earth oven.
ipu. gourd, calabash.
iwi. bone. Root word of 'Qiwi (indigenous Hawaiian) and kulliiwi (homeland).
kil. cast, hit, strike, thrust.
ka'au. forty.
kil i mua. ceremony in which young boys were initiated into the hale mua (see chapters
2 and 6).
kahako. macron denoting elongated vowel sound on Hawaiian words.
kahiko. old, ancient.
kiihili. feather standard, symbolic ofrank.
kahu. keeper, attendant, guardian.
kahului. crescent shaped battle formation. also name of Maui town that Hale Mua is
based in.
350
kahuna/kahuna[pluraJ]. expert in any profession, often associated with alma specific to
the kahuna's trade; priest.
kahuna hulihonua. kahuna skilled in study of earth, often advised in the construction of
heiau.
kahuna nui. high priest and councilor to a high chief; officiator ofheiau ceremonies.
kahuna pule. prayer expert.
kai. ocean.
kiikiila'au. spear fencing.
kiika'OIelo. orator, person skilled in use of language, counselor, adviser.
kiikau. tattoo.
kaJai la'an. carve wood.
kiilaimoku. counselor, prime minister, high official.
kaJo. taro, the staple crop ofHawaiian people.
kiima'a. sandal, shoe.
kanaka/kii.naka[pluraJ]. person; Hawaiian (when used with capital "K").
kane. male, man.
kanikapiJa. play music.
kanoa. bowl, especially one used for 'awa.
kanu. bury, plant.
kaona. deeper hidden meaning.
kapa. tapa, barkcloth.
kapn. marked with restrictions, prohibitions, and spiritual qualities that govern
interactions and behavior;
351
kau. hot season, approximately May through October; also: period oftime; to place, put,
hang, affix.
kauhaJe. group of houses comprising the Hawaiian home.
kaukau aJi'i. an ali'i of lesser rank who performed service tasks.
kaupaku/kaupoku. ridgepole ofhale.
keiki. child, offspring, young taro.
keiki lewaJewa. young boy not initiated into the hale mua, called such because he does
not wear a malo and is a "dangler."
k
· ,. d
la I. guar .
kiawe. Algaroba, a thorny foreign tree found in dry areas.
kihei. a rectangular garment worn over one shoulder and tied in a knot.
ki'i. image, statue, picture, figure.
ki'i Iii'au. wooden image.
kini akua. multitude of gods, 40,000 akua.
kinolau. many bodies, physical manifestation and embodiment ofthe akua.
koa. bravery, courage; someone possessing koa; warrior. also: native hardwood tree.
ko'ihonua. genealogical chant.
ko'i'u1a. rainbow-hued rain; in ko'ihonua of Kaha'i, it was the path he followed in
search ofhis father Hema.
kuahu/ahu. altar.
kii'e. stand apart, resist.
kulIikuhi pu'uone. seer, especially a class ofkahuna who advised the building and
locating ofheiau, homes, and fishponds; architect.
ku'ia. Pukui and Elbert define it as a "sharp, pointed stick, dagger, spear." See ne'e.
352
kiikiikiikii. discuss, dialogue.
kiikulu hale. build a house.
kuliiiwi. homelands, native lands, "bone plain."
kuleana. rights and responsibilities.
kumu. source; teacher.
kumu hula. an instructor and "source" ofhula.
kupuna/kiipuna[plural]. elder, grandparent, ancestor.
Iii'au palau. fighting club. See ne'e.
liihui. people, nation, collective.
lauhala. pandanus leaf.
laulau pua'a. pork wrapped in the leaves ofthe taro and steamed.
lehua. flower of the upland 'ohi'a lehua tree; metaphorically, the first victim of a battle.
lei. garland; typically made from flowers, shells, feathers, leaves vines, or other materials
and worn around neck or head
lei po'o. lei worn around head.
leina. place wherethe spirits leap into the Po.
Iele. jump, leap, fly.
lele kawa. cliffjumping.
lima. hand, five; in Hale Mua, grouping of five individuals.
lo'i. irrigated terrace, especially for the planting ofkalo.
Ina. bone-breaking martial art that has enjoyed resurgence since mid 19908; also: two,
dual, hole.
luakini. a type ofheiau upon which human sacrifices were conducted.
353
mahalo. appreciation, thanks, gratitude.
mahiole. feather helmet.
mai'a. all kinds ofbananas and plantains.
maile. a native shrub and vine whose aromatic scent makes it a favorite for lei making.
maka'ainana. commoners as opposed to ali'i.
makana. gift.
miikaukau. ready, prepared.
makualmiikna[plural]. parent. adult, mature taro plant.
malihini. guest, visitor.
malo. loincloth.
mana. spiritual power, potency, and charisma.
manawa. time.
mana'o. thought, belief, conviction.
mano. shark.
ma'a. familiar; familiarity.
maoli. real, true, authentic. Indigenous Hawaiian (when used with capital "M" or with
word "Kanaka" or '''Oiwi'').
mea kana. weapon.
mihi. apologize.
moepu'u. companion in death.
mohai. sacrifice, offering.
mo'i. sovereign. monarch; antiquity of word is debated, some say it only appeared in
usage in the 1830s.
354
mo'o. lizard, dragon; succession, series, fragment.
mo'okfi'auhau. genealogy, genealogical succession.
mo'olelo. story, tale, myth, history, tradition, literature, legend, narrative, account,
succession of talk.
mo'olelo kahiko. ancient stories/history/traditions.
mo'opuna. grandchild, offspring, descendant.
mua. hale mua. before, ahead, forward, in advance, first.
nil mea Hawai'i. Hawaiian things.
na'au. intestines, guts, seat ofemotion and knowledge.
na'auao~enlightened.
na'aupij. ignorant.
nalu. wave.
ne'e. mea kaua that is between 5-6 feet in height and pointed on both sides, one ofwhich
is shaped to have a blade and resembles a cross between a short spear and a long
club; the name, which means to "move," comes from Sam Ka'ai. Kyle Niikanelua
has called it a la'au piilau, and 'Umi Kai has called it a ku'ia.
niu. coconut.
ooa. free ofkapu; unrestricted.
'ohana. family (including extended).
'ohi'a. two kinds oftrees, the 'ohi'a 'ai, or mountain apple, and the 'ohi'a lehua, an
upland hardwood tree whose wood is used in the manufacture of mea kaua.
'oihana. occupation, trade, job, business, activity, industry, rite.
355
'oiwi. native. indigenous (capitalized to denote Indigenous Hawaiian identity). "ofthe
bone."
'oki. cut off.
ola. life. live.
ola hou. new life. live again.
'olelo. speech, language, words, saying.
'olelo Hawai'i. Hawaiian language.
'Olelo no'eao. proverb, wise saying.
oli. chant.
oli kahea. chant to callout and ask permission to enter.
oli komo. chant to the invite the person giving the oli kiihea to enter.
'ona. inebriation, intoxication.
'ono. delicious, savory taste.
'0'0. pierce, lance, poke, put in.
'0'0 ihe. to hurl spears; sport of spear throwing and dodging.
pa. fence, wall, enclosure; also short for pa lua, or the lua organizations.
palala..birth gift.
pa lua. organizations of lua practitioners; two most widely known in Hawai'i are
Paku'ialua and Pliku'iaholo that began in the early and mid-1990s.
pahoa. dagger.
pahu. dmm.
pahua. spear dance.
pa'i 'ai. pounded taro prior to the mixing of water to create poi.
356
palau. fighting club, short for la'au p1ilau. See also ne'e.
papa. flat surface, board, flats (as in the flat area below Pu'ukohola); also, class, rank,
grade, order (as in papa ali'i).
papa ku'i 'ai. board for pounded taro.
papa Iii'au. wooden board.
pil'ii. waist covering in which material is wrapped around waist and extends down at
variable lengthsfrom the upper thigh down to the ankle.
pani. to close; closing ceremony.
pikai. ritual cleansing ceremony.
pi'o. arch, bend; also highest rank ofali'i.
pO. night, darkness, realm ofthe gods and ancestors (when used with capital P). Seen as
a source of empowerment, connection, and ancestral knowledge for 'Oiwi.
po'e. people.
poi. pounded taro mixed with water; staple ofthe Hawaiian diet.
poke. to cut into pieces; commonly refers to raw fish cubed and mixed with seasoning.
pololfi. battle pike.
pono. goodness, righteousness, correct or proper, well-being, just, in perfect order.
po'o. head, both ofbody and of an organization.
po'okanaka. heiau on which human sacrifices were conducted.
pouhana. post set in the middle ofeach end of the hale, supporting the kaupaku; fig.
support, mainstay.
pii. conch shell trumpet; also a gun.
pua. flower, blossom.
pua'a. pig.
357
pua'a kiilua. pig baked in the imu.
pUlo'ulo'u. tapa-covered ball on a stick signifying a chiefly kapu.
pule. prayer, pray.
pule huikala. cleansing prayer.
pulu. soft, glossy, yellow wool on the base oftree-fern leaf stalks; was used to stuff
mattresses and pillows and exported to California in the early 18oos.
po'o. hill, mound, promontory; desire, need.
'uala. sweet potato.
'uhane. soul, spirit, ghost.
ubi. covering, veil, solid tattoo.
ukana. baggage, luggage, supplies.
uku. pay, payment, fee, toll.
'ukulele. literally "jumping flea," name given to the introduced Portuguese braguinha, a
four stringed instrument modified slightly and made popular in Hawaiian music.
'ulu. breadfruit.
'0000. graduate as an expert in an art or skill, such as hula, oli, or lua.
wi. period oftime.
wa'a. canoe.
wi kahiko. ancient times.
wahinelwibine[plural). woman, female.
358
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