While attending the 2024 Council for Native Hawaiian Convention and listening to the panel discussions, I reflected on how our ancestors passed down ʻike (knowledge) through storytelling and oral traditions. I heard stories I hadnʻt heard before from our Nā Kālai Waʻa and the Makaliʻi ʻohana and crew members.
One moʻolelo that stood out was about what happened on the day that Makaliʻi was born at Kawaihae,—a story that wasn’t originally to be shared as part of the discussion, but was when the NKW ʻohana and crew members went off script. I’m grateful they did, it was powerful and a reminder that while we may set a sail plan, there are moments when we need to adjust the course. Uncle Chadd ʻOnohi Paishon spoke of a double rainbow that formed that day, with each arc meeting in the middle, a hō‘ailona (sign) for our ʻohana, crew and waʻa that remains to this day. ”When the double rainbow arches and the sails are full, the wisdom of our kūpuna (ancestors) lives on.” Pomai Bertelmann remembers the calm strength of the kāne (men) who balanced kuleana that morning. Uncle Maulili Dickson shared that many remember a bright light appearing from the direction of the Koʻa Heiau Holomoana at Mahukona, our navigational heiau.
Aunty Pua Case, Aunty Noe Noe Wong-Wilson and Uncle Kalani Flores spoke of Mauna a Wākea and the moʻolelo of their journeyʻs with their ʻohana to stand for the mauna.
Aunty Tammy Smith and Keala Kahuanui spoke of the need to "make ready" and provision both our waʻa (canoes) and our moku (islands). Aunty Tammy shared her dream of being able to work on growing and preserving hāloa (kalo) to last for 20 years, so her ʻohana can say she made it, even if she was no longer here.
There is magic in our moʻolelo. We come from a lineage of storytellers. Hearing these stories from those who lived through these moments left a lasting impression on me. I realized that many of them have carried their kuleana (responsibility) for most of their lives or were born into it. It made me think deeply on who will carry these stories forward and uphold these traditions when those who lived them are no longer with us. I hope others felt as I did when listening to the speakers at this convention—that fires were ignited, and seeds were planted, strengthening our pilina (relationships) and our kuleana. I'm grateful that we continue to share our stories in our own voices so our stories and traditions can continue to thrive.
Commentaires