I only started this blog this week, so it seems like my first few entries will be retroactive. I found myself with so many things to talk about over the last couple of weeks, but did not yet have the venue to share those ideas. But now I have it, so here goes...
It has been one week since the elections and I, for one, am completely relieved that it's over. The political ads here were getting overwhelmingly nasty. Every single day I would come home to find at least one, more often two, fliers in my mailbox attacking one candidate while trying to promote another. Watching television was even worse; every single commercial was some ad along the same lines. No one even bothered to talk about any of the slightly good things they had done. Everything was about how bad their opponent was.
Seriously...does anyone really believe that talking smack about someone else makes you look good?
I found myself reflecting on the first-ever election here in the islands. It took place on January 1st, 1873. Lota Kapuaīwa (Kamehameha V) had died in December 1872 without designating an heir to the throne. According to the kingdom's constitution, if an heir was not declared, then the legislature would elect the new monarch from amongst the royal bloodlines. The choice, therefore, was between William Charles Lunalilo and David La‘amea Kalākaua.
Lunalilo, who was the grandson of Kamehameha Pai‘ea's brother, was the favorite, and was in fact chosen by the legislature to fill the empty throne. However, he declined to accept the position unless it was submitted to a vote by the people. He fully understood, as all Hawaiian regents before him knew, that his role was to serve the people, and he could not, in good conscience, accept that position without their consent.
He also understood that the will of the legislature was not the same as the will of the people.
Although contemporary politicians would try to convince us otherwise, Lunalilo's understanding of this fact is still as true today as it ever was.
Whether or not Lunalilo was a good ruler is a question that may never be answered. He unfortunately died after serving only one year and one month as Hawai‘i's ruling king. But I still look to this act as his first and possibly his best example of his dedication to the good of his people. He didn't need to hold a popular vote; he was already given the seat. But he demanded the election because he actually valued what his people wanted. I wish I could believe the same about any of our politicians today.
Small tangent here: It is interesting to note that during the days of the Hawaiian Kingdom, voter turnout was extremely high. Hawaiians were very politically involved, and showed their support in large numbers.
So why is voter turnout so low today? Because of the overthrow, of course. The overthrow occurred in 1893, and between then and 1897 the people had done whatever they could to make things right. They most generously spoke out, they appealed to their legislature, and they organized groups to try and gain some political power. 98% of the population signed a petition telling the United States that we didn't want to be a part of their country, and yet in 1898 we somehow got annexed anyway.
If your voice had been so grotesquely ignored like that, and if the people now in charge of your government were the very same ones who overthrew your queen at gunpoint, would it encourage you to vote in the next election? I don't think so.
People who want to believe that the overthrow is ancient history and does not affect us today need only to look at the voting numbers from before 1893. We are still suffering from the oppression imposed upon us by people who had no right to be here in the first place, yet promoted themselves to government heads through deception, thievery and other outright illegal means.
The bottom line is this: If we Hawaiians see something worth fighting for, we will fight for it. But since 1893, we haven't seen anything worth that fight.
At least that's the way I feel about it. ‘Oia wale no.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Eō e Lonoikamakahiki!
Happy New Year everyone!
I am overdue in welcoming Lonoikamakahiki! He arrived on Friday evening...officially, anyway. He's certainly been heralding his arrival for nearly a month now. I recall at the beginning of October quite a few overcast and rainy days, and myself thinking that Lono had already arrived. Certainly last week with its abundance of rain was a sure sign of his coming to our islands.
If you're lost as to what I'm writing about, let me here enlighten you: Lono is our god of abundance, of the rainy season, of agriculture, and of peace. He rules over the next four months or so, and traditionally we give thanks to him during this time by playing games and enjoying the fruits of our labor...literally. We live off of the abundance of food we were able to store because he allowed us to grow so much of it throughout the rest of the year. His body forms are clouds, rain and lightning, pigs, the humuhumunukunukuapua'a fish (the pig's marine counterpart), and the kukui tree, among other various plants.
I find it a little amusing that, before his "official" arrival, he showed more of himself in general. Then, as soon as his season has come upon us, he's let up and showed a lot of sunshine. I don't know if I should attribute it to Lono's sense of humor, or to his powerful ability to be noticed.
Although I missed greeting him this past Friday, I most certainly felt his presence. On Sunday morning I awoke from a dream about Rapa Nui. I've been there many times, and was dreaming about the people I know there, and how it would be good to see them again. Rapa Nui, however, is also associated with Lono. There is a sacred village atop a crater's edge called Orongo. The name "Orongo" is the Rapa Nui equivalent of the Hawaiian "Lono."
Orongo village is constructed of stone structures, with a platform to leap off from, supposedly as a part of the ancient Birdman ceremony. Nearly every single surface of stone at this platform area is covered in petroglyphs.
For the most part, Hawaiian petroglyphs do not look the same as their south Pacific counterparts...but there are a few exceptions. And there is a rock that was found in O‘ahu's Moanalua Valley that fits that exception. There are drawings on it that greatly resemble those found in Rapa Nui.
Unfortunately that particular rock (shown left) is not there anymore; it was taken to the Bishop Museum at some point. But this whole thing got me thinking about Moanalua Valley anyway...and there is another large rock covered in petroglyphs.
So, newly entering the season of Lono, and awaking from a dream about Rapa Nui, I felt compelled on Sunday to visit this great stone in Moanalua. (I had actually tried to visit it the weekend before, but Lono said it wasn't the right time to go. We went to the valley entrance, and the back of the valley was completely obscured by rain. That was a sure sign it wasn't the right time to visit...)
I had only been there once before, several years ago, and didn't really know exactly where to go. But it's an easy trail, and the rock is right along side it, so I was secure in thinking that we would find it. It turned out to be a beautiful day, and the walk was just what I needed. We took a ton of pictures along the way.
But this great pōhaku was a lot further in than I remembered, and after a while I actually did start to doubt that we would find it...
I believe, however, that in situations such as this, we are led to where we need to be. I wasn't there because I wanted to go...I was there that day because akua wanted me to go. And as we continued to walk, I all of a sudden felt that we were getting close. I had no reason, logically, to think so...I just knew that we were. And moments before the rock came into view, I knew that it was just around that corner...
And there it was, resting atop its pedestal, happily overlooking a beautifully flowing stream.
(It really was on a pedestal, by the way. Someone at some point had gone and concreted in between the rocks under it to make a sort of foundation for it to sit on.)
According to Sites of Oahu, this rock has two names: Pōhaku ka luahine, and Laupo. It was believed to be an akua.
All I know is that I felt like I was seeing an old friend. I was so happy to just be there, and with the sunlight streaming over it, the pōhaku seemed happy too.
I of course then proceeded to go and talk with it, and take lots of pictures of the many drawings on the rock. Some came out, some didn't.
In any case, I've yet to fully understand why I went there, or what I was supposed to gain from the experience. But I know I gained something. I really do feel like a new year has started, and I look forward to whatever that new year brings.
Eō e Lonoikamakahiki!
I am overdue in welcoming Lonoikamakahiki! He arrived on Friday evening...officially, anyway. He's certainly been heralding his arrival for nearly a month now. I recall at the beginning of October quite a few overcast and rainy days, and myself thinking that Lono had already arrived. Certainly last week with its abundance of rain was a sure sign of his coming to our islands.
If you're lost as to what I'm writing about, let me here enlighten you: Lono is our god of abundance, of the rainy season, of agriculture, and of peace. He rules over the next four months or so, and traditionally we give thanks to him during this time by playing games and enjoying the fruits of our labor...literally. We live off of the abundance of food we were able to store because he allowed us to grow so much of it throughout the rest of the year. His body forms are clouds, rain and lightning, pigs, the humuhumunukunukuapua'a fish (the pig's marine counterpart), and the kukui tree, among other various plants.
I find it a little amusing that, before his "official" arrival, he showed more of himself in general. Then, as soon as his season has come upon us, he's let up and showed a lot of sunshine. I don't know if I should attribute it to Lono's sense of humor, or to his powerful ability to be noticed.
Although I missed greeting him this past Friday, I most certainly felt his presence. On Sunday morning I awoke from a dream about Rapa Nui. I've been there many times, and was dreaming about the people I know there, and how it would be good to see them again. Rapa Nui, however, is also associated with Lono. There is a sacred village atop a crater's edge called Orongo. The name "Orongo" is the Rapa Nui equivalent of the Hawaiian "Lono."
Orongo village is constructed of stone structures, with a platform to leap off from, supposedly as a part of the ancient Birdman ceremony. Nearly every single surface of stone at this platform area is covered in petroglyphs.
For the most part, Hawaiian petroglyphs do not look the same as their south Pacific counterparts...but there are a few exceptions. And there is a rock that was found in O‘ahu's Moanalua Valley that fits that exception. There are drawings on it that greatly resemble those found in Rapa Nui.
So, newly entering the season of Lono, and awaking from a dream about Rapa Nui, I felt compelled on Sunday to visit this great stone in Moanalua. (I had actually tried to visit it the weekend before, but Lono said it wasn't the right time to go. We went to the valley entrance, and the back of the valley was completely obscured by rain. That was a sure sign it wasn't the right time to visit...)
I had only been there once before, several years ago, and didn't really know exactly where to go. But it's an easy trail, and the rock is right along side it, so I was secure in thinking that we would find it. It turned out to be a beautiful day, and the walk was just what I needed. We took a ton of pictures along the way.
But this great pōhaku was a lot further in than I remembered, and after a while I actually did start to doubt that we would find it...
I believe, however, that in situations such as this, we are led to where we need to be. I wasn't there because I wanted to go...I was there that day because akua wanted me to go. And as we continued to walk, I all of a sudden felt that we were getting close. I had no reason, logically, to think so...I just knew that we were. And moments before the rock came into view, I knew that it was just around that corner...
And there it was, resting atop its pedestal, happily overlooking a beautifully flowing stream.
According to Sites of Oahu, this rock has two names: Pōhaku ka luahine, and Laupo. It was believed to be an akua.
All I know is that I felt like I was seeing an old friend. I was so happy to just be there, and with the sunlight streaming over it, the pōhaku seemed happy too.
I of course then proceeded to go and talk with it, and take lots of pictures of the many drawings on the rock. Some came out, some didn't.
In any case, I've yet to fully understand why I went there, or what I was supposed to gain from the experience. But I know I gained something. I really do feel like a new year has started, and I look forward to whatever that new year brings.
Eō e Lonoikamakahiki!
Monday, November 8, 2010
Muku nei, Muku ka malama; Hilo nei, kau ka Hoaka
Our Hawaiian New Year began this past Friday, November 5, 2010. It's arrival was signified by the rising of the constellation Makaliʻi (Pleiades) on the horizon at sunset, and on the night of the new moon. This event ushered us into not only the new lunar month of Welehu, but also the Makahiki season.
I write about this now because I, like the vast majority of Hawaiʻi's population, didn't realize it happened. And I think that's a shame.
Much of Hawai'i's population doesn't know that there even is a Hawaiian New Year. In fact, Chinese New Year is a much bigger deal around here than the new year that is inherently tied to these islands. That just seems wrong somehow.
As for me missing it...it was my own fault. In order to understand when our new year begins, one must pay attention to the lunar cycles. Our traditional Hawaiian months go by the moon, not by a date on some calendar. I do pay attention to the lunar months, but lost track recently and neglected to keep it up. (It's easy to lose track of the lunar month when you live in a place with so much light pollution that you can hardly ever see the moon!) And, although I was invited to go to the east side on Friday night to greet the rising of Makali'i, I did not realize at the time that it was the most significant night of the year...so I didn't go. I finally comprehended everything tonight, when I saw the slim fingernail of a moon beginning its procession into the new month...and then my mind put all the pieces together. Auē!
Finally understanding what I had missed is what inspired me to start this blog. I have lived in Hawai'i my whole life, but only within the past few years have I been educated enough about my culture that I can recognize significant events like the one this past Friday. And yet I still missed it. But I am determined not to miss it again.
I kept a moon journal once (and I encouraged others to do the same, but I don't know that anyone ever took my advice). I wrote in it almost every night, and made observations about the day. Most of it was weather-related, but sometimes there were other characteristics to note. And then I compared all of my observations to some archival sources on what our ancestors knew about the moon phases and the ways these phases affected daily life. Although my little journal could hardly have been considered a work of scholarly achievement, I can say with certainty that I found our kūpuna's observations to still hold true...even in the concrete jungle.
So this is where everything has led me to. I figured this blog can help me find my way in my efforts to learn something that was common knowledge 200 years ago. And if I can share with and maybe even inspire others to do their own learning, then great!
In fact, that's what the blog title is all about. It is the second half of an 'Ōlelo No'eau (Hawaiian words of wisdom): Kamali'i 'ike 'ole i ka helu pō; Muku nei, Muku ka malama; Hilo nei, kau ka Hoaka. The entire phrase is a way of saying someone is ignorant by comparing that person to children who do not know the phases of the moon. In Hawaiʻi 200 years ago, even children knew all the nights of the moon. It was considered a knowledge essential to life and taught to children when they were very young.
The second half of the saying, however, speaks of someone in ignorance coming into a state of understanding and clarity. That's why I chose it for my title. That's what I hope to do by writing this blog. I am on a constant exploration to learn what was common knowledge to my kūpuna. And I'll post whatever I find here...because in sharing, one truly learns.
Aloha!
I write about this now because I, like the vast majority of Hawaiʻi's population, didn't realize it happened. And I think that's a shame.
Much of Hawai'i's population doesn't know that there even is a Hawaiian New Year. In fact, Chinese New Year is a much bigger deal around here than the new year that is inherently tied to these islands. That just seems wrong somehow.
As for me missing it...it was my own fault. In order to understand when our new year begins, one must pay attention to the lunar cycles. Our traditional Hawaiian months go by the moon, not by a date on some calendar. I do pay attention to the lunar months, but lost track recently and neglected to keep it up. (It's easy to lose track of the lunar month when you live in a place with so much light pollution that you can hardly ever see the moon!) And, although I was invited to go to the east side on Friday night to greet the rising of Makali'i, I did not realize at the time that it was the most significant night of the year...so I didn't go. I finally comprehended everything tonight, when I saw the slim fingernail of a moon beginning its procession into the new month...and then my mind put all the pieces together. Auē!
Finally understanding what I had missed is what inspired me to start this blog. I have lived in Hawai'i my whole life, but only within the past few years have I been educated enough about my culture that I can recognize significant events like the one this past Friday. And yet I still missed it. But I am determined not to miss it again.
I kept a moon journal once (and I encouraged others to do the same, but I don't know that anyone ever took my advice). I wrote in it almost every night, and made observations about the day. Most of it was weather-related, but sometimes there were other characteristics to note. And then I compared all of my observations to some archival sources on what our ancestors knew about the moon phases and the ways these phases affected daily life. Although my little journal could hardly have been considered a work of scholarly achievement, I can say with certainty that I found our kūpuna's observations to still hold true...even in the concrete jungle.
So this is where everything has led me to. I figured this blog can help me find my way in my efforts to learn something that was common knowledge 200 years ago. And if I can share with and maybe even inspire others to do their own learning, then great!
In fact, that's what the blog title is all about. It is the second half of an 'Ōlelo No'eau (Hawaiian words of wisdom): Kamali'i 'ike 'ole i ka helu pō; Muku nei, Muku ka malama; Hilo nei, kau ka Hoaka. The entire phrase is a way of saying someone is ignorant by comparing that person to children who do not know the phases of the moon. In Hawaiʻi 200 years ago, even children knew all the nights of the moon. It was considered a knowledge essential to life and taught to children when they were very young.
The second half of the saying, however, speaks of someone in ignorance coming into a state of understanding and clarity. That's why I chose it for my title. That's what I hope to do by writing this blog. I am on a constant exploration to learn what was common knowledge to my kūpuna. And I'll post whatever I find here...because in sharing, one truly learns.
Aloha!
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