Category Archives: History

History, Maku‘u Stories

Maku’u Stories, Part 4: Tutu Meleana & The Puhi

I just received a really interesting email about my Tutu Meleana. It was from my cousin Danny Labasan, and I’m copying it here with his permission:

I am the last son of Elizabeth Kamahele. I’m not sure if we met but we could have. I was so young way back then, I can’t remember who all of my cousins are. But I do remember once we went over to the chicken farm. I don’t know if Kimana or Kuuna was your dad. They were in Makuu all the time.

But how this writing came about is that I am doing some Kamahele family tree background. And while doing some Internet checks I ran across your articles via Hamakua Springs.

I just want to say that the stories you write, especially about Tutu, Uncle Sonny, the Maku‘u land, are so so so soo great. It’s like I am still there.

I wrote back that I know of him, though I don’t remember if we met either. His mom was Aunty Elizabeth, and I told Danny I have fond memories of her. I told him my dad was Kimana, which was a Hawaiianization of Kee Mun Ha, the name my dad’s Korean dad gave him.

Danny told me this great story about Tutu Meleana, who lived there at Maku‘u. Though Danny and I are near in age, Tutu was Danny’s grandmother and my great-grandmother.

The pond that you spoke of (Waikulani) where Tutu took you, and us as well, to fish as little kids – I have a story to tell about it. I will never forget it because it’s why I hate puhi (eel).

On one particular day, Tutu and my mom Elizabeth went to this pond. We swam and fished. Aunty Elizabeth caught lots of ‘opihi and Tutu caught some haukeuke. Then Tutu showed us how to clean the fish, the ‘opihi and haukeuke. We were on the rocks just feet from the ocean water. I was probably 6 years old. This will be hard to believe but a puhi came flying out of the water and grabbed hold of Tutu’s bicep. I will never forget seeing this snake-like creature attached to Tutu’s arm. I screamed until I hyperventilated. 

But Tutu was so calm. She grabbed hold of the puhi’s head, pushed it against her arm and the mouth of the puhi opened up, and Tutu was able to remove the puhi from her arm. She cut the head off. Patched up her arm and we walked back to the house. An experience I will never forget. I still hate puhi. 

My brother Allen, he was called Eloy during those days, would take us fishing in Kukuihaele where we lived and he would show us how Uncle Sonny and cousin Kalapo would catch puhi. Unreal.

Waikulani

What a story. Waikulani Pond is not exactly a pond. It was a place where the large waves outside would break on a protective ring of pahoehoe, and small swells would roll gently across what looks like a pond. One would have to jump from rock to rock to get to Waikulani. The bigger kids could do this, no problem.

The small kids would all go poke around in this tiny, protected cove, looking at ocean animals, and would sometimes see the dreaded puhi.

Great story, Danny. Thanks again.

Next:
Part 5: What Uncle Sonny Taught Me About Successful Businesses

See also:
Maku‘u Stories, Part 1: My Kamahele Family in Maku’u
Maku‘u Stories, Part 2: Cousin Frank Kamahele
Maku‘u Stories, Part 3: Uncle Sonny

History

Thinking About ‘Gift Economies’

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

In modern Hawaiian history, the culture has given, given, given and the economy has taken, taken, taken. Now, with the gift of geothermal, we have an opportunity for the economy to give, give, give and the culture to receive, receive, receive. If we can make this happen, it will indeed be a Happy Thanksgiving for all of us.

My friend Gail Tverberg wrote about the “gift economy” at the Oil Drum blog. The gift economy is a good thing. It makes us all feel good.

Thanksgiving: A Time to Think about Gift Economies?

Posted by Gail the Actuary on November 25, 2010 – 10:40am in The Oil Drum: Campfire 

This post was published earlier. But Thanksgiving (in the US) seemed like a good time to think about the ideas again.

When I sat down to research this post, I thought I would write a post about barter, since it seemed like if our current financial system failed, barter would be one possible form of back-up. But when I started to research barter, the first thing I came across was this statement:

Contrary to popular conception, there is no evidence of a society or economy that relied primarily on barter. Instead, non-monetary societies operated largely along the principles of gift economics. When barter did in fact occur, it was usually between either complete strangers or would-be enemies.

So I decided to step back a bit, and look into gift economies. Read the rest of the post.

I recognize the gift economy in the Hawaiian style of interaction. No wonder Gail was so well received by the Kanaka Council. When I saw Mililani Trask’s photo at one of the links, I was not surprised. And it is no wonder that Dawn Chang and I hit it off so well. Chef Alan Wong is like this, too.

Many, many folks walk on both sides of the issue. And I see that most really want to be on the side of the gift economy.

I had no idea there was a name for such a thing, until I read Gail’s post.

I can see now that 50 years ago my Pop, as rough and tough as he was, was a “gift economy” kind of guy. When he told us kids stories, he would sometimes make “mean face” and growl at an imaginary person: “No mistake kindness for weakness!”

Finally, I understand what he was doing. It was his way of teaching us how to operate in both systems.

History

Hilo Sampans Then and Now

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Gordon “Da Sampan Man” Cline came to visit on Tuesday. He lives in Santa Barbara, California and owns one of the old Hilo sampan buses. I bought the sampan bus that was at the Lyman Museum at an auction several years ago.

He has managed to track down every one of the 12 sampan buses that are still in existence. He dropped off some news articles and we looked at pictures of the other buses.

Here’s a picture of our sampan and Chef Peter Merriman (right), as well as Assistant Chef Dan Salvador (left) and Chef Neil Murphy (middle).

Sampan

This article was in the Honolulu Advertiser on June 21, 1959:

Hilo’s Sampan Buses
These special conveyances provide colorful transportation
By RON BENNETT

There’s nothing more distinctively Hilo than a Hilo Sampan bus.

They are an immediate delight for Visitors who’ve never seen anything quite like them before. You often see tourists congregating around a “captured” sampan. Snapping pictures for the folks back home.

For kicks the vacationers some times jump into one of the open air Jitneys and take a Hilo bus ride.

Hiloans regard their sampans bus system something in the possessive fashion that Bay City dwellers view their trolley cars.

A big hullabaloo was raised back in 1949 when exasperated Hawaii county officials tried to enforce some rhyme and reason in bus routes, pick ups and fares.

For decades the jitneys followed no set courses. They moseyed around town in a haphazard manner, picking up customers at random and taking them to entirely incompatible destinations.

Drivers complained of colleagues rustling their customers and invading vaguely defined boundaries of priority. Some were accused of cut throat tactics. And other types of unprofessional conduct.

In a nutshell, mass public transportation in Hilo was a mess.

However, some patrons—particularly those on better populated, thus better served streets—objected to any governmental changes that might adversely affect their good bus service. On rainy days they could depend on drovers taking them right up to the doorsteps, a service doomed under governmental controls.

Controls had to come and they did. Officials named a distinguished World War ll veteran, Tsuneo Takemoto, as director.  With Italy behind him, he soon brought peace and regularity out of chaos.

Today 25 sampans serve 15 Hilo routes on a rotating basis so every driver can get a crack at the plushier routes. On these busier routes commuters have no longer than about 10 minutes to wait between buses.

A common belief that the unusual body used for the sampans comes from Manila or some other foreign place is incorrect. They are made in Hilo.

The same type of bus has been in operation in Hilo for at least 40 years, according to one oldtimer. One of the first to use the design is said to be the late Fukumatsu Kusumoto, who ran a jitney between the Hilo Wharf and uptown, ages ago.

One source believes Kusumoto took the body style from a picture he saw once of a bus in Mexico.

Recent years have brought about one noticeable change in the sampan buses. Once gawdy in their color schemes, they’re now more conservative in dress.

History, Maku‘u Stories

Maku‘u Stories, Part 3: Uncle Sonny

My Uncle Sonny farmed at Maku‘u after some years in the Merchant Marines. His real name was Ulrich Kamahele (I have no idea where that name came from). He had a big personality.

One day, when I was walking with a couple of my buddies on Waianuenue Avenue near where Cronies is now, I heard someone call me. It was Uncle Sonny, and he was almost all the way up the block toward Kaikodo.

It’s hard to be rugged — even when you are in the 9th grade and smoking cigarettes — when your Uncle Sonny yells “Eh, Dicky Boy.”  I cringed and looked around to see if any girls had heard him. He must have been in his 30s then.

I caught up with him again after I graduated from the University of Hawai‘i and returned home to run Pop’s chicken farm. When we decided to start growing bananas, we got lots of our banana keiki from Uncle Sonny. The Paradise Park subdivision had been built and so one could drive all the way down to Maku‘u. So we saw him quite frequently.

Uncle Sonny did not have electricity, running water or a telephone, but he had a transistor radio and a 1-foot stack of U.S. News and World Reports. He always got the current copy from the Pahoa post office. Though he lived a very simple life, he’d traveled all over the world with the Merchant Marines and he knew a lot more than one would think. He could talk about a myriad of subjects. I found his stories fascinating.

I visited him often and learned a lot about farming from him. A visit to Maku‘u would take hours, with most of that time spent listening to Uncle Sonny. I learned to be a good listener. He always talked in a loud voice and he waved his arms a lot. My wife June and my sister Lei told me that they would stay arms’ length from Uncle Sonny, walking backwards or in a big circle around the yard. They were careful to stay out of range of his swinging arms, so they wouldn’t be all bruised at the end of the visit.

Everyone knew Uncle Sonny for growing the sweetest watermelons. People would come from miles around to get his watermelons. He did not have to go out to sell them; they would all sell by word-of-mouth.

We spent a lot of time talking about farming watermelons. He used a backpack poison pump. Once he showed me how he knew that the amount of sticker/spreader in the mixture was effective. Although the rate was supposed to be something like ½-teaspoon per gallon, he always double-checked the mixture by sticking a piece of California Grass into it. Due to the fine hair on the grass, water normally runs off California grass, taking the herbicide with it. If the water spread on the leaf instead of running off it, the mixture was right.

What I learned

The message I learned: Use the book for the first approximation, and then confirm things on the ground. The word “grounded” does come to mind.

He told me that melon flies, an enemy of watermelon, rest under a leaf at the height of the midday sun. That was why he planted a few corn plants on the outside border of his watermelon patch. Sure enough, they were there. He was in tune with the behavior of the fruit fly. He would pull out his can of Raid and give them a short burst.

The standard solution would have been to spray the whole field. Uncle Sonny’s way was much more effective and very much cheaper.

Here’s how Uncle Sonny knew his watermelons were ready: When they reached the size of golf balls, he put a wooden stake with the date on it. Then he harvested the melons after a certain number of days went by.

It was so simple and so effective. It’s what led us to place a different colored ribbon on every banana bunch we bagged in a particular week. We harvested the bananas based on elapsed time—pretty much like Uncle Sonny did.

I learned from Uncle Sonny to use the “book” for general instructions. But not to rely on it exclusively.

Uncle Sonny broke things down to their essential components. He made his life simple, and yet he was very effective. I admired him very much.

Next: 
Maku‘u Stories, Part 4: Tutu Meleana & The Puhi

See also:
Maku‘u Stories, Part 1: My Kamahele Family in Maku’u
Maku‘u Stories, Part 2: Cousin Frank Kamahele

History, Maku‘u Stories

Maku‘u Stories, Part 2: Cousin Frank Kamahele

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It was because he stayed at Maku‘u when he was a small kid that my Pop’s cousin Frank Kamahele became a jet pilot and also the manager of the Hilo and Kona airports.

About a mile down the coast from Tutu’s house in Maku‘u, toward Hawaiian Beaches, was an island called Moku ‘Opihi. During World War II, Hell Fire and other planes flew from Hilo and used that island for target practice.

The pilots knew there was a small kid at the house who jumped up and down waving at the planes. Some would fly low and turn sideways, then smile and wave at the small kid. Others would wiggle their wings and buzz the house.

The small kid knew that he would become a pilot one day. He did not know how; just that he would.

Later, when that kid Frank Kamahele was at Pahoa High School, a new teacher came from Texas and became the basketball coach. Frank loved basketball, and the new coach helped him to go to the University of Hawai‘i on a scholarship to play basketball. It so happened that the University of Hawai‘i had an Air Force ROTC program, which Frank joined.

Upon graduating, Frank applied to go to flight school. They told him to go home and wait for an opening, and one came a few months later. Next thing he knew, he was in Arizona at flight school.

‘Luckiest person in the world’

Frank told me recently that he feels like the luckiest person in the world. He came from a very poor family, and no one in the family had gone to college. If it hadn’t been for the planes flying overhead and a kind, dedicated teacher from Texas, he might have had a career as a “cut cane man.” He was pretty good at that and earned $200 a month for contract cane cutting. At that time, it was a lot of money.

Frank was a cool-headed person. He told me about the worse thing that happened to him during his flying career. It happened at Honolulu International Airport once when he was taking off: when he was around 150 feet in the air, an engine fell off. He was piloting a KC135 refueling tanker –- a flying bomb the size of a Boeing 707.

He said the Control Tower called and asked: “Do you realize you lost engine number four?”

“Roger,” Frank replied.

“I repeat – do you realize that you lost engine number four?”

“Roger.” That was the extent of his conversation with the Tower. In the meantime, Frank shut off the engine, the fuel, etc. He did not want a fire to start.

It happened that he was on his routine annual check ride, so an Air Force inspector was along for the ride and sitting in the jump seat. Except for the engine falling off, everything was going well. The plane flew on three engines, no problem.

Back on the horse

Once they stabilized at altitude, Frank requested permission to land and get another plane to finish his mission. He knew things were going smoothly and that he needed to get his crew back up in the air again to keep up everyone’s confidence. When they landed uneventfully, he asked the flight inspector if he wanted to go back up with them.

The inspector told him: “I’m sure you all will do just fine.” He could not wait to get off that plane and on the ground.

After his career in the Air Force, Frank returned to the Big Island and flew a 6-passenger tourist tour plane. He told me he could not keep on doing that because it was too boring and uneventful.

So he went to O‘ahu to work at the airport as an administrator, and the Hilo/Kona airports manager job came up.  He flew back to Hilo and applied for the job, which he kept for 17 years.

This is an example of how you just never know what has an influence on a young kid and might change his or her entire life for the better. It convinces me that the $1 million annual TMT contribution toward the Big Island’s K-12 education will be so valuable to our children.

Next: 
Maku‘u Stories, Part 3: Uncle Sonny

See also:
Maku‘u Stories, Part 1: My Kamahele Family in Maku’u

History, Maku‘u Stories

Part 1: My Kamahele Family in Maku‘u

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Today I was thinking about my Kamahele family and especially my grandmother Leihulu’s brother, Ulrich Kamahele.

Everybody knew him as Uncle Sonny, as if there was only one “Uncle Sonny” in all of Hawai‘i. He was a larger-than-life character. In a crowd, he dominated by the sheer force of his personality. Since I have been thinking about him, I thought I would write a several-part story about Maku‘u.

My extended Kamahele family came from Maku‘u. When we were small kids, Pop took  us in his ‘51 Chevy to visit.

He turned left just past the heart of Pahoa town, where the barbershop is today. We drove down that road until he hit the railroad tracks, and then turned left on the old railroad grade back toward Hilo. A few miles down the railroad grading was the old Maku‘u station. It was an old wooden shack with bench seats, as I recall. That is where the train stopped in the old days. A road wound around the pahoehoe lava flow all the way down the beach to Maku‘u. That was before there were the Paradise Park or Hawaiian Beaches subdivisions.

We did not know there was a district called Maku‘u; we thought the family compound was named Maku‘u. Of the 20-acre property, maybe 10 acres consisted of a kipuka where the soil was ten feet deep. The 10 acres on the Hilo side were typical pahoehoe lava. The property had a long oceanfront with a coconut grove running the length of the oceanfront. It was maybe 30 trees deep and 50 feet tall.

The old-style, two-story house sat on the edge of a slope just behind the coconut grove. If I recall correctly, it had a red roof and green walls. Instead of concrete blocks as supports for the posts, they used big rocks from down the beach.

There was no telephone, no electricity and no running water. So when we arrived it was a special occasion. We kids never, ever got as welcome a reception as we got whenever we went to Maku‘u.

Tutu Lady

The person who was always happiest to see us small kids was tutu lady Meleana, my grandma Leihulu’s mom. She was a tiny, gentle woman, maybe 100 pounds, but very much the matriarch of the family. She spoke very little English but it was never an issue. We communicated just fine.

We could not wait to go down the beach. Once she took us kids to catch ‘ohua—baby manini. She used a net with coconut leaves as handles that she used to herd the fish into the net. I don’t recall how she dried it, but I remember how we used to stick our hands in a jar to eat one at a time. They were good.

She would get a few ‘opihi and a few haukeuke and we spent a lot of time poking around looking at this sea creature and that.

Between the ocean in the front and the taro patch, ulu trees, bananas and pig pen in the back, there was no problem about food. I know how Hawaiians could be self-sufficient because I saw it in action.

The house was full of rolls of stripped lauhala leaves. There were several lauhala trees and one was a variegated type. I don’t recall if they used it  for lauhala mats but it dominated the road to the house.

There were lauhala mats all over the place, four and five thick. There was a redwood water tank, and a Bull Durham bag hung on the kitchen water pipe as a filter.

Years later when I showed interest in playing slack key, I was given Tutu’s old Martin guitar.

She had played it so often that the bottom frets had indentations in it where her fingers went.

Next:
Maku’u Stories, Part 2: Cousin Frank Kamahele

History, Mauna Kea, Science, Television

Passing the Torch

I just watched the KGMB9-TV special Hokulea – Passing The Torch.

It was about the Micronesian master navigator Mau Piailug “passing the torch” to five new navigators.

From Wikipedia:

Born on the island of Satawal in the Caroline Islands, Mau received his knowledge of navigation from an early age, taught first by his grandfather. When he was around 18, through training of a master navigator, he went through sacred ceremony called Pwo.

Through this he became “Paliuw” by a master navigator, through the Weriyeng School of Navigation. Weriyeng School of Navigation, which began on Pollap Island a long, long time ago, is only one of two schools of navigation left in Micronesia.

He is best known for his work with the Hawaii-based Polynesian Voyaging Society, navigating the double-hulled canoe Hokule‘a from Hawaii to Tahiti on its maiden voyage in 1976, and training and mentoring Native Hawaiian navigator Nainoa Thompson, who would later become a master navigator in his own right.

On March 18, 2007 Piailug presided over the first Pwo ceremony for navigators on Satawal in 56 years. At the event five native Hawaiians and eleven others were inducted into Pwo as master navigators. The Polynesian Voyaging Society presented Piailug a canoe, the Alingano Maisu, as a gift for his key role in reviving traditional wayfinding navigation in Hawaii.

Alingano Maisu was built in Kawaihae, Hawaii under the non- profit organization, Nā Kalai Waʻa Moku O Hawaiʻi. The commitment to build this “gift” for Mau was made by Clay Bertelmann, Captain of Makali‘i and Hokule‘a. Maisu was given to Mau on behalf of all the voyaging families and organizations that are now actively continuing to sail and practice the traditions taught by Mau Piailug.

Hundreds of years before the Spaniards and English entered the Pacific, Polynesian navigators were moving back and forth around the ocean, and to and from Hawai‘i, without instruments. Five hundred years ago, Polynesians were the greatest navigators in the world.

In the 1897 introduction that Queen Lili‘uokalani wrote for the Hawaiian creation chant the Kumulipo (she wrote it while she was under house arrest), she noted that Hawaiians were astronomers.

We need to again elevate Hawaiian wayfinding navigator/astronomers to the highest level of respect, similar to how we feel today about astronauts.

In doing that, we will lift our keiki’s aspirations. They will take pride in who they are and they will see that anything is possible.

One way to do this is to continue practicing the sacred science of astronomy on our sacred mountain, Mauna Kea.

If the Comprehensive Management Plan (CMP) for Mauna Kea does not pass, it will likely mean the end of astronomy on Mauna Kea in the near future. Without the CMP, the Thirty-Meter Telescope will be built in Chile, and when the current lease for the rest of the telescopes is up, they will shut down and so will the astronomy program at the University of Hawai‘i at Hilo.

We need to support the Comprehensive Management Plan and the Thirty-Meter Telescope for what they can do for our people. For our keiki.

We need to pass the torch.

History

Lili‘uokalani’s Translation of the Kumulipo

I just read this translation of the Hawaiian creation chant, the Kumulipo, done by Queen Lili‘uokalani. I never knew she’d translated it while under house arrest.

I was also very interested to see that in the ending paragraphs of the Introduction, she writes about Hawaiians being astronomers. This is logical when one considers that Hawaiians traveled extensively throughout the Pacific only using the stars as reference. They were the greatest navigators of their day.

I found the background, and the Introduction written by the Queen, to be fascinating. Read the full translation here. Maybe you’ll find this as interesting as I did.

The Kumulipo

Translated by Queen Liliuokalani [1897]

This is Queen Liliuokalani’s translation of the Hawaiian Creation chant, the Kumulipo. She translated this while under house arrest at Iolani Palace, and it was subsequently published in 1897. This is an extremely rare book which was republished (in a very scarce edition) by Pueo Press in 1978.

The Kumulipo’s composition is attributed to one of Liliuokalani’s eighteenth century ancestors, Keaulumoku, just prior to European contact. It is a sophisticated epic which describes the origin of species in terms that Darwin would appreciate. The Kumulipo moves from the emergence of sea creatures, to insects, land plants, animals, and eventually human beings. It describes a complicated web of interrelationships between various plants and animals. The most massive part of the chant is a genealogy which enumerates thousands of ancestors of the Hawaiian royal family.

The Kumulipo is also available at this site in the 1951 translation of Martha Warren Beckwith, with comprehensive analysis and the complete Hawaiian text. However Liliuokalani’s version is of some historical significance. The last Queen of Hawaii, Liliuokalani was extremely literate, and steeped in Hawaiian tradition. She was the author of the well-known Hawaiian anthem, Aloha ‘Oe as well as a Hawaiian history book, Hawai’i’s Story by Hawai’i’s Queen.


INTRODUCTION.

THERE are several reasons for the publication of this work, the translation of which pleasantly employed me while imprisoned by the present rulers of Hawaii. It will be to my friends a souvenir of that part of my own life, and possibly it may also be of value to genealogists and scientific men of a few societies to which a copy will be forwarded. The folk-lore or traditions of an aboriginal people have of late years been considered of inestimable value; language itself changes, and there are terms and allusions herein to the natural history of Hawaii, which might be forgotten in future years without some such history as this to preserve them to posterity. Further, it is the special property of the latest ruling family of the Hawaiian Islands, being nothing less than the genealogy in remote times of the late King Kalakaua,–who had it printed in the original Hawaiian language,–and myself.

This is the very chant which was sung by Puou, the High Priest of our ancient worship, to Captain Cook whom they had surnamed Lono, one of the four chief gods, dwelling high in the heavens, but at times appearing on the earth. This was the cause of the deification of Captain Cook under that name, and of the offerings to him made at the temple or Heiau at Hikiau, Kealakekua, where this song was rendered.

Captain Cook’s appearance was regarded by our people then as a confirmation of their own traditions. For it was prophesied by priests at the time of the death of Ka-I-i-mamao that he, Lono, would return anew from the sea in a Spanish man-of-war or Auwaalalua. To the great navigator they accordingly gave a welcome with the name of Lono.

The chanters of this great poem were Hewahewa and Ahukai, and by them it was originally dedicated to Alapai, our ancestress, a woman-chief of the highest rank, then at Koko Oahu. Keeaumoku was lying on his death-bed. The Lonoikamakahiki, of whom this chant sings so eloquently in our native tongue, is none other than Kalaninuiiamamao (Ka-I-i-mamao). His name was also Lonoikamakahiki. He was thus called by his mother, Lonomaikanaka, from the very moment of his birth. It was his grandmother Keakealani who changed his name at the time he was dedicated to the gods and the sacred tabus of the Wela, Hoano, and the Moe; or, translated, Fire, Honor, and Adoration were conferred upon him at the time when his navel string was cut at the Heiau at Nueku, Kahaluu, Kona, Hawaii. The correct name of this chief was Ka-I-i-mamao, but the bards of his day named him in their chants Kalaninuiiamamao; thus he was styled in their Mele or chant called Kekoauli-kookea ka lani. The words “lani nui” were simply inserted by them as it was their intention to hand the young prince’s name down to posterity in song, while to explain the object of the parents in naming him Ka-I-i-mamao it signified that when Keawe married Lonoma-I-Kanaka it was an infusion of a new royal blood with that of their own royal line of I, the father of Ahu, the grandfather of Lonomaikanaka. By this it was also intended to show that he, that is Ka-I-i-mamao, was above all other I’s, for there were many families, descendants of I, a high and powerful chief, and the last term, “mamao,” means “far off” and above all the rest of the I’s.

Before he was deposed by the people of Kau he was called Wakea on account of his wicked actions, and, like Wakea, he married his own daughter. By this name he wandered through the wilds of Kahihikolo at Kalihikai, Kalihiwai, and Hanalei, and ultimately became demented. Through all his wanderings he was followed by his faithful attendant and retainer Kapaihi a Hilina.

This historical character is distinct from the Lonoikamakahiki, son of Keawenuiaumi, the same one who challenged Kakuhihewa at checkers, Konane. He figured at a different period. There were really three persons of the name of Lonoikamakahiki; the first of these was the son of Keawenuiaumi; the second was a celebrated hunchback son of Kapulehuwaihele, and belonged to Makakaualii. The third Lonoikamakahiki is the one for whom this prayer was composed. His parents were Keaweikekahialiiokamoku and Lonomaikaamaka. Ka-I-i-mamao was the father of Kalaniopuu, this last-named being ancestor in the third degree of King Kalakaua, who reigned over the Hawaiian kingdom from 1874 to 1891, and of Liliuokalani, who reigned from 1891 to 1893. He was also ancestor in second and third degree to the wife of Kalakaua, at present the dowager Queen Kapiolani.

It will be seen, therefore, that as connecting the earlier kings of ancient history with the monarchs latest upon the throne this chant is a contribution to the history of the Hawaiian Islands, and as it is the only record of its kind in existence it seemed to me worthy of preservation in convenient form.

I have endeavored to give the definition of each name as far as it came within my knowledge of words, but in some cases this could not be done because the true signification has been lost. The ancient Hawaiians were astronomers, and the terms used appertained to the heavens, the stars, terrestrial science, and the gods. Curious students will notice in this chant analogies between its accounts of the creation and that given by modern science or Sacred Scripture. As with other religions, our ancient people recognized an all-powerful evil spirit: Mea was the King of Milu as Satan is of the infernal regions, or hell.

I hope that to some interested in all that pertains to Hawaii, this may give one-half the pleasure which it gave to me in the translation and preparation of the manuscript.

LILIUOKALANI, of Hawaii,      
Patron of the Polynesian Historical Society.

Hamakua Coast, History, The New Ahupua‘a

Ahupua‘a, Old & New

The farm recently received information about a Farm Conservation Plan grant. It’s a grant that is awarded by the Natural Resource Defense Council just every eight years, and Richard says it was completely unexpected when they were asked to apply.

“It’s rewarded based on past practices,” explains Richard. “They’re trying to reward people who’ve been doing it right, in terms of avoiding erosion and employing best environmental practices. This grant comes around every eight years, and it came out of the blue because the Hilo watershed had not participated in this program before.”

The farm also recently applied for financial assistance through the Environmental Quality Incentives Program 2009, which falls under the federal Wildlife Habitat Management program. This program promotes agricultural production and environment quality as compatible goals. Some of the identified natural resource concerns are: at-risk species habitat, sedimentation and accelerated erosion and ground and surface water conservation.

“This grant is to bring the streams back,” says Richard, “to reforest them. Basically they want you to bring it back up to where it was. We have all these non-native plants, and we’re going to take them out and replant with the appropriate, native ones. We’re going to clean up the area and take it back to where it was originally.”

It’s an extensive project, and an exciting one.

Part of this process has been a “Cultural Resources Review,” which was done by the local Natural Resource Defense Council. It starts out with some interesting historical and cultural information we didn’t know:

The proposed project area is 579 acres within three ahupua‘a: Kaupakuea, Kahua and Makahanaloa (north to south) in South Hilo.

Richard is excited to know these details about the traditional land divisions, or ahupua‘a. Me, too. Here he’s been talking about creating The New Ahupua‘a, and we find we actually have some information about the old ahupua’a!

From the report:

Kaupakuea is the northernmost ahupua‘a. Its southern boundary is Makea Stream…It extends from the coast up to the above Kaupakuea Homesteads at about 1400/1500 foot elevation…. Evidence of previous plantation use of the area can be seen in the unpaved roadways, and a west-east flume in parcel 01. The project is also within what was once Grant 872.

Kaupakuea is the side of the farm that has all the greenhouses, the packing house and all the structures.

Kahua is a very narrow ahupua‘a, extending only between Makea Stream to the north to Alia Stream to the south, approximately 600 feet wide although it extends from the coast to about Makea Spring, which is at about the 980 foot elevation, upslope of the project area….

Kahua seems to be a natural place to plant assorted fruit trees. The sloping terrain lends itself to a cropping system that doesn’t require constant tractor cultivation.

Richard says this land between the two streams has always been his favorite part of the property. “How often do you get two streams so close together,” he says, “just naturally? There’s a big hill in between them. It’s not suitable for flat-land farming. It’s hard to figure out why it’s there. You just have a feeling that it’s special.”

Kahonu received 52.20 acres as LCA 5663 in the northern mauka half of Kahua in the project area….Kahonu was an ali‘i, a chief, a descendant through both the ‘I and Mahi lines, who was in charge of the Fort at Punchbowl ca. 1833-34 (Barrere 1994:139). After his death in 1851, Abner Paki, a relative, held the lands [in Kahua] “under a verbal will from Kahonu” (Barrere 1994:138). At Paki’s death in 1855, “these lands were now listed as Bishop Estate lands” (Barrere 1994:515). Abner Paki and Konia were the parents of Bernice Pauahi and hanai parents of [Queen Lydia] Liliuokalani (Barrere 1994:515).

Kahua and Kaupakuea were listed as government lands (Indices 1929:30, 32). Government lands were lands Kamehameha III gave “to the chiefs and people” (Chinen 1958:26). By surrendering a large portion of his reserved lands to the government, Kamehameha III disposed of the question of his payment of commutation to the government (Chinen 1958:27). “From time to time portions of the Government Lands were sold as a means of obtaining revenue to meet the increasing costs of the Government. Purchasers of these lands were issued documents called ‘Grants’ or ‘Royal Patent Grants…” (Chinen 1958:27).

Makahanaloa ahupua‘a extends from the coast all the way up to about the 6600 foot elevation, a distance of about 3.4 miles….7600 acres of Makahanaloa and Pepekeo (sic) ahupua‘a were awarded to William Charles Lunalilo as LCA 8559-B: 17 &b 18 in the Great Mahele of 1848….Within Makahanaloa was “an ancient leaping place for souls. A sacred bamboo grove called Homaika‘ohe was planted here by the god Kane; bamboo knives used for circumcision came from his grove” (Pukui et al 1981:139). Locations of these sites are unknown.

The review also provides some history of the sugar plantations in the area of what is now Hamakua Springs Country Farms.

1857 – Theophilus Metcalf started Metcalf Plantation.
1874 – Afong and Achuck purchased Metcalf Plantation and changed the name to Pepe‘ekeo Sugar Company.
1879 – Afong and Achuck acquired Makahaula Plantation, adding 7600 acres to the south.
1882 – These were combined as Pepe‘ekeo Sugar Mill & Plantation.
1889 – Afong returned to China and left the plantations in the hands of his friend Samuel M. Damon.

The overview continues with changes of hands as the plantation land passed through Hackfeld & Company, Alexander Young and, in 1904, C. Brewer and Co. It gives some history through the closing of what had become Mauna Kea Agribusiness Co. in 1994.

Richard says this newly acquired information about the ahupua‘a come down to it being a framework. “A couple years ago we started feeling we needed to get closer to the culture,” he says. “We ended up working with, for example, the TMT, Keaukaha School, and it became a real thing. We started calling it the ‘New Ahupua‘a,’ and it was kind of neat. We had this kind of flat land over here, and that kind of hilly land over there.

“But all of the sudden now there are names!” he says. “Everything’s starting to become clear. It’s kind of exciting. It’s a framework to work in. Now we’re going to take action.”

“It’s still all about feeding people, basically. That’s what we’re up to.”

History

Kaupakuea Plantation

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I got this email from my grandson Kapono today:

I was doing some research today in Hawaiian History for a project that we’re doing on Sugar Plantation Days and I found some really interesting info about where our farm is and the history behind it. I hope you find it as interesting as I did.

I did. Here’s the information, which is from Sugar Islands – The 165-year Story of Sugar in Hawaii, by William H. Dorrance and Francis S. Morgan. (Mutual Publishing, Honolulu, Hawaii –
2000):

Kaupakuea Plantation
Sometime between 1857 and 1861, the highly successful Honolulu businessman Chun Afong (1825-1906) acquired the Kaupakuea Sugar Plantation and Mill. It consisted of 1,500 acres ten miles north of Hilo. In addition, in 1879 he acquired Makahaula Plantation on 7,600 acres at the southern border of Kaupakuea Plantation. By 1882 Afong had combined the two into Pepe`ekeo Sugar Mill and Plantation Company.

Chun Afong came to Hawaii from China in 1849 to work in his uncle’s store. He soon became a successful merchant on his own and also invested in sugar and coffee plantations. His stature increased to the point that in 1879 King Kalakaua appointed him a noble of the Kingdom. But a decade later, in 1889, the weary and aging Afong returned to his homeland, leaving his family in Honolulu and his affairs in the hands of his friend Samuel M. Damon (1845-1924), son of the pioneer preacher Samuel C. Damon.

Pepe`ekeo Sugar Company
By 1890, Samuel M. Damon had incorporated Afong’s plantation as Pepe`ekeo Sugar Company and retained 27 percent of the shares for Afong, with Hackfeld and Company holding most of the rest, along with the plantation’s agency contract. In 1893 Hackfeld sold the agency agreement to Theo H. Davies and Afong’s shares were sold to Davies’ associate Alexander Young (1832-1910). In 1904 C. Brewer and Company purchased controlling shares from Young and took over the agency agreement.

The plantation had been profitable under Afong. Much to his credit, the first pioneering vacuum pan used in the sugar-making process was introduced at Kaupakuea mill in 1861. Afong also led the way in providing amenities and good housing for his workers and their families. C. Brewer and Company, Ltd. perpetuated this by improving the housing and providing a model hospital that became a standard for other plantations. Production was 400 tons in 1867, increased to 500 tons in 1872, and to 1,259 tons in 1880.

The lands, however, were acidic and required liming for neutralization. Longtime manager (1905-1936) James Webster and C. Brewer and Company, Ltd. met this challenge in a very unusual way. In 1914 over 20,000 tons of O`ahu’s Wai`anae Coast coral sands were taken by the O.R.&L. railroad to the Honolulu docks, then via the Inter-Island Steam Navigation Company to the Hilo docks, and onward with the Hawaii Consolidated Railway Company to Pepe`ekeo. There the sand was bagged and hauled into the fields by mules to be spread. This remarkable effort turned the acidic soil into a hospitable host for sugarcane and the machinery used to cultivate it.

Pepe`ekeo’s mill was located at the shore to make use of fluming to transport the harvested cane. For many years before 1935 the hydraulic head of mountain ground water (spring water) drove a hydroelectric plant that supplied all of the mill’s needs and also supplied power for housing. Until 1913 product was shipped from a landing near the mill. From 1913 until 1946 sugar went by railroad to the Hilo docks. After the tsunami of 1946, all shipments went by truck.

In 1946, production rose to 25,055 tons when C. Brewer merged Pepee`keo’s fields with the neighboring Honomu Sugar Company. Almost two decades later, in 1962, C. Brewer and Company Ltd. further increased the acreage by merging Hakalau Plantation in to the surviving Pepe`ekeo Sugar Company, Ltd. and reaped the economies of scale. In 1973, C. Brewer and Company, Ltd. merged Pepe`ekeo Sugar Company into Mauna Kea Sugar Company, and the original name was no longer used.

Mauna Kea Sugar Company
In 1972, Mauna Kea Sugar Company and the new United Cane Planters’ Cooperative, representing almost 400 independent farmers, formed a non-profit corporation, the Hilo Coast Processing Company (HCPC), to harvest and grind sugarcane on shares. A year later, in 1973, C. Brewer and Company, Ltd. merged Pepe`ekeo Sugar Company with Mauna Kea Sugar Company, thus combining under one corporate name what had once been five separate plantations: Honomu Sugar Company, Hakalau Sugar Company, Pepe`ekeo Sugar Company, Onomea Sugar Company, and Hilo Sugar Company. For a time the three mills at Pepe`ekeo, Papaikou, and Wainaku were operated by the HCPC, but by 1979 only the large, improved mill at Pepe`ekeo survived.

Even with these consolidations, sugar operations in the wet Hilo Coast area were unprofitable. The number of independent farms dwindled to 22. In 1992, C. Brewer and Co. announced that Hilo Coast Processing Company, and its now-named Mauna Kea Agribusiness Company (formerly Mauna Kea Sugar Company), would shut down after grinding the 1994 harvest. More than 450 jobs were affected. After a run of over 150 years, sugarcane permanently left the Hilo area.

Shortly after, I went to see John Cross, who managed C. Brewer’s lands, to ask about leasing the land for bananas. He let me use 20 acres free of charge for a year, and we started planting bananas.

That was the start of Mauna Kea Banana Company.