To celebrate 50 years of the Merrie Monarch Hula Festival, we created a design honoring both the Merrie Monarch himself, King David Laʻamea Kalākaua, as well as the cultural cornerstone he restored to its rightful place: our beloved hula. It was one of several practices the Mōʻī (King) delved into (others included genealogy and Hawaiian medicine) on his quest to heal and raise the consciousness of his people and to "Hoʻoulu lāhui" (grow the Hawaiian population, which had been reduced by more than half since the introduction of foreign diseases). The book "Na Mele Aimoku, Na Mele Kupuna, a me Na Mele Ponoi o Ka Moi Kalakaua I" is a selection of some of the hundreds of chants gifted to Kalākaua or collected by him and his genealogy committee before, during, and after the celebration of his 43rd birthday. "Kiekie Kona i hapai ia e ka pohu, He Inoa No Kalakaua," by Kaihua, is one of these selected mele. It is filled with strong and beautiful sun imagery; a take on his name that is a refreshing departure from the commonly known literal translation "the day of war" (Ka-la-kaua vs. Ka-la-kau-a). One literal translation of the line "Ka lapa uila olapalapa i ka la" is The flash of lightning in the day/sun. But the line also evokes things other than the lightning, such as the flutter and flash of ʻōlapa leaves in the sunlight, this energy being embodied by the hula dancer (another meaning of ʻōlapa), and the awakening of consciousness that happens when we allow this dance of life to dance us. Certainly Kalākaua knew these things and wanted us to keep dancing. Mahalo nui iā ʻoe e Ka Mōʻī Kalākaua, i kēia makana aloha āu i hoʻoili mai ai ma luna o mākou. *Note: We have chosen to align with the style of the original text and not use diacritical marks on the ʻōlelo for this shirt.
The endemic ʻōpae ʻula, a.k.a. Halocaridina rubra, is found in the anchialine ponds of Hawaiʻi and Maui (and in other habitats on Molokai and Oʻahu). The ponds are fed by underground connections to the ocean, freshwater, and other nearby ponds. ʻŌpae ʻula eat algae, bacteria, and diatoms, helping to maintain the health of the ponds (90% of of which have been destroyed by coastal development and invasive species). ʻŌpae ʻula make great bait for catching ʻōpelu, hīnālea and other fish, and add lots of flavor to saimin broth and other dishes. ʻUʻuku ke kino, nunui ka ʻono - Tiny body, huge flavor. Several types of ʻōpae (shrimp) are found in a various habitats throughout Hawaiʻi. Traditionally, they were caught using a tightly woven cone-shaped basket (hīnaʻi ʻōpae / ʻāpua ʻōpae) made from the aerial roots of the ʻieʻie (Freycinetia arborea). A famous saying applied to great accomplishments goes: "I kōkī o Wailau, i ke alapiʻi a ka ōpae" - At the top of Wailau (Molokai), at the ladder of the shrimp. ʻAiʻai (also Aʻiaʻi) had his parents (Kūʻula and Hinapukuiʻa) send the ʻoʻopu and ʻōpae there after seeing throngs of people in Wailau take them carelessly. Ke-alapiʻi-a-ka-ʻōpae is also a famous fighting stroke in lua (Hawaiian martial arts).
Wahi a kahiko, ʻo ka hau kea o Maunakea ka wai kāpī ke hoana ʻo Wākea i ke koʻi. Auē ka nani ke noʻonoʻo iho. ʻO ʻOlopū ka inoa o ke koʻi i kālai ʻia aku ai kona waʻa a mau waʻa paha. He koʻi "haʻi kūpuna" kēia mai ka wā kōliʻuliʻu mai i hoʻoili ʻia akula i kekahi o nā aliʻi nui o ka moku o Keawe, e laʻa ʻo Hawaiʻikuauli, kāne a Lilinoe, ke aliʻi wahine i hānai ʻia ma kekahi ana ma Mauna Kea, ka mea hoʻi i maʻū kona puʻu i ka wai o Poliʻahu, he pūnāwai i luna o laila. Ua ʻōlelo ʻia he "koʻi naʻi aupuni" ʻo ʻOlopū a loaʻa maila i ka lima ʻo Kamehameha Paiʻea ma mua o ke kīlou ʻana o ua ʻiwa koa lā i nā moku. Nāna ke kahua o ke aupuni i kūkulu ʻia e kāna keiki, e Kauikeaouli, a me nā hoa kūkā a kākāʻōlelo ona. Ua palapala ʻia ihola ia moʻolelo ma ka ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi, ka ʻōlelo hoʻi o ke aupuni Hawaiʻi. I mea e hiki ai iā kākou ke hoʻomaopopo iho i ka ʻōlelo a me ka moʻolelo Hawaiʻi, ua hoʻokumu ʻia ʻo Awaiaulu. He hui hoʻolako kumu ʻike a hoʻomākaukau mea unuhi ʻo Awaiaulu e ʻimi mau ana i nā ala e loaʻa mai ai ka ʻike Hawaiʻi i ko Hawaiʻi. A no ka mea, ʻo ka ʻike ke koʻi naʻi aupuni o kēia au. ʻO ka mea ia e kālai ʻia mai ai nā mea o ko kākou makemake, ka mea e hoʻomaopopo ai kākou i ke aupuni Hawaiʻi me kona ea e mau mai nei, ka mea nō hoʻi e holomua like ai kākou ma ke ala hoʻokahi.
An old chant tells us that the snow of Maunakea was the water Wākea used when sharpening and polishing koʻi (adzes), the most important tool of the ancient Hawaiians, who created many types of them. A koʻi named ʻOlopū was used to carve the canoes of Wākea and his people. It was a koʻi from antiquity that held in it the stories of distant ancestors and was passed down through the generations of chiefs. It was called a "koʻi naʻi aupuni", or "nation-building koʻi", befitting of Kamehameha Paiʻea, the chief who acquired it before uniting the islands under his rule. He established the foundation that his son, Kauikeaouli, built upon to secure the Hawaiian Kingdom with the help of his most trusted advisors. This kingdom and Hawaiʻi's history were extensively documented in the Hawaiian language. Awaiaulu was created to facilitate an understanding of that language and history through the development of resources and resource people, tools and toolmakers, with the drive to make Hawaiian knowledge broadly accessible to all people of Hawaiʻi. This knowledge is our modern koʻi naʻi aupuni, a tool that helps us actualize our desires, understand our kingdom and its intact sovereignty, and move forward in unity. Let us take the inspiration of ʻOlopū and sharpen our koʻi; deepen our knowledge of the past as a foundation that allows people of today to thrive and future generations to flourish. To learn more about Awaiaulu, visit their website: www.awaiaulu.org
This iʻa (or food from the sea) is a nutritious and highly sought after delicacy. Mary Kawena Pukui talks of Hawaiians removing the middle of the ʻopihi and mixing it with poi to feed to babies - a seriously nourishing and mineral-packed combination! There are 3 types of ʻopihi that are endemic to the Hawaiian Islands. ʻĀlinalina, or the yellow foot limpet, lives at the low tide mark and its shell is used as a scraper. Makaiuli, the black-foot limpet, lives highest up on the rocks of all ʻopihi. Kōʻele, a.k.a. giant limpet, is the species that is always submerged in the ocean and its shell is often covered with limu and barnacles. Living in or near the intertidal zone often means rough water and ʻopihi have the ability to suction themselves down onto the rocks so as not to be swept away. This is probably the reason for the commonly heard saying "My little ʻopihi" in reference to a clinging child.
E like hoʻi me ka hulu o nā manu o ka uka ʻiuʻiu, hana nui nō hoʻi ka loaʻa ʻana mai o ka pūpū makaliʻi o kahakai. He ʻohi lima pākahi ʻia ka ʻōlepe Haumea judii, ka pūpū hoʻi nona nā iwi miʻi i kui papa a kui poepoe ʻia i lei nani e hiehie ai ka pāpale a e māhiehie ai hoʻi ka umauma. Ua nui nō naʻe nā ʻano pūpū a nā kūpuna i kapa aku ai he ʻōlepe. ʻO nei ʻōlepe iwi miʻi nō naʻe paha ka pūpū a Mary Malo i ʻohiʻohi ai ma Waimea, Oʻahu i kona wā kamaliʻi (Ka Leo Hawaiʻi 24.20). Humuhumu akula kona ʻohana i ua mau pūpū nei ma luna o nā kākini a i lei pāpale nō hoʻi no ke kuapo ʻana me kekahi poʻe haole i maka leho nui i ia ʻano pūpū. Noho ka ʻōlepe ma lalo o ke one a wahi a ua ʻo Mary Malo, “ʻAʻole pae mau kēlā pūpū. He manawa wale nō ko lākou e pae mai ai. Ke hoʻomaka mai lākou e pae, nui ʻino kēia pūpū. Aia i ka wā ʻino ā mālia, a pae mai.” Au aku ka manaʻo i kekahi wā ʻino ma ka Moʻolelo ʻo Kamiki (Keauhou 31 Jan 1912) me kekahi ʻōlelo kūamuamu pili ʻōlepe e hene ai paha kou ʻaka, e ka mea heluhelu. ʻO ia ka wā i hea aku ai ʻo Okoe i ka makani a halulu āiwaiwa maila nō me ka haʻihaʻi pū ʻia mai o nā lālā kumu lāʻau. Ia wā nō i pane koke aku ai kona hoa paio, ʻo Makaʻiole, i kahi ʻōlelo hoʻohae ma mua o ko lāua mokomoko ʻana: “E mālama, e Okoe, i kō pāʻū kapu, o nahae i ka niuhi ʻaʻe ʻale o Kākāʻaukī, a kepa ʻia ʻoe a moku - moku ka puka ʻaha pulu niu a kō kumu i aʻo ai, pau ka ʻaha niu i ka mōkalakala a ahuwale ka niu kupanaha o Kahiki, ʻo ka limu līpaheʻe a me ka pūpū ʻōlepe noho i ke ʻale.”
The name ʻōlepe is used to refer to a wide variety of bivalves (sea animals whose hard shell has two sides that hinge open). In ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi, these two rigid walls of the animal’s hale (house) are called iwi and these jewels of the seashore were and still are collected for their beauty. Some of the larger species of ʻōlepe were widely gathered as food when bivalve populations were healthier and more abundant. Historian Z. Kepelino described a fully white ʻōlepe with a ridged shell that lived in the sand and was eaten raw. The species that inspired this design are ʻōlepe (Haumea judii and Lioconcha hieroglyphica), panapana puhi (Spondylus nicobaricus), the endemic ʻōlepe ʻauwaha (Vasticardium hawaiiensis), ʻōlepe kupe ʻōpiopio (Ctena bella), and pūpū kupa (Scutarcopagia scobinata). Most of these pūpū are sand dwellers that live at a range of depths. Collectors must know the kai, seasons, and weather in order to know when shells of Haumea judii, a popular type of ʻōlepe for lei-making, might be tossed up on the beach. In former times, this beautiful, scallop-shaped shell was most commonly made into hat bands in the kui papa style (sewn flat on to a backing). In recent years, makers have also started stringing ʻōlepe in the poepoe style (a round or cylindrical shape) to be worn on the umauma (chest), gorgeous adornments that have their own unique beauty. He miʻi mīkohukohu - Attractive in a very becoming way.
Hawaiʻi has five species of freshwater fish called ʻoʻopu (a.k.a. gobies), four of which are endemic. As an important food source for many Hawaiians, they understood that the life cycle of these unique creatures encompasses both the stream and the ocean, and knew the importance of maintaining a healthy connection from uka (the uplands) to kai (the ocean). The coolest part of the ʻoʻopu is the suction disk on their bellies that helps them climb up waterfalls and scale difficult stream areas during their return to the mountains from the ocean as juveniles. ʻOʻopu ʻai lehua (lit. lehua-eating ʻoʻopu) is a poetic description for ʻoʻopu seen in upland streams where lehua blossoms fall in.
He wao kanaka a he wao akua ko ka ‘āina, pēlā ka māhele ‘ana o nā kūpuna, a he ha‘awina waiwai loa ko loko o ia māhele ‘ana, ‘o ia ho‘i, ‘a‘ole e hana wale aku ke kanaka e like me kona makemake ma nā wahi a pau, a no ka mea ‘a‘ole ia i ‘oi a‘e ma luna a‘e o nā mea a pau. He mana‘o nui ko‘iko‘i kēia e ho‘omā‘ike‘ike ana ‘oko‘a ka no‘ono‘o o ka po‘e Hawai‘i a ‘oko‘a ho‘i ko kekahi o nā lāhui no waho mai. Ke ho‘ohui pū ‘ia ia mana‘o nui me ka mo‘okū‘auhau, akāka mai ho‘i ke kumu e make‘e wale ai kākou i ka ‘āina, a he pili hemo ‘ole ho‘i ia aloha i loko o ke kūnewa ‘ana o nā kau a me ka hala ‘ana o nā hanauna. Aloha nō ka ‘āina, nā kulāiwi ho‘i o ko Hawai‘i pono‘ī. Mai nā pali hāuliuli o nā ko‘olau a nā kula waiho kāhela i ka wela o nā kona, ke loli nei ka ‘āina, ke piha nei i nā hale a ke noke mau mai nei nā maka hou i ka ho‘oili ‘ana mai i nā ‘ano o ko lākou nohona ma luna o nā kapa kahakai o ka pae ‘āina aloha. ‘O ka mea a kēia lau nei e kono nei i ka po‘e e no‘ono‘o, ‘o ia ho‘i ke kūkulu hale ‘ana ma Hawai‘i: Ma hea kahi kūpono e kūkulu ai i ka hale? No wai ka nui o nā hale e kūkulu ‘ia nei? He aha nā hi‘ohi‘ona o nā hale o kēia au? ‘A‘ole ‘o ka hale nunui hiehie loa ka mea e ola ai ke kanaka. ‘O ka ‘āina momona ka mea e ola ai. No laila, ‘o kā mākou e pai a‘e nei ma ‘ane‘i: I wahi ōpū weuweu no kākou. A love and respect for the land, sea and the resources therein is an important and enduring part of Hawaiian identity. A deep appreciation for open space is in our very DNA, as our geneaologies tie us to the land and all its life forms. For many of us, development is hard to stomach, especially the kind that creates exclusive spaces for the highly wealthy and ignores the needs of everyone else. Many new homes are nothing like the humble "plantation style" houses we know and love. Agricultural zoning used to be for actual farmers, but now high-priced parcels with lavish homes and a token banana patch or citrus grove somehow slide through as "ag lots" with cheaper water and lower tax rates. This is a far cry from the rural, agricultural lifestyle that is part of our collective history. Where is the balance point? This design asks landowners, developers, and policy makers to prioritize affordable housing and diversified agriculture, and balance this with our need for open space (think about the 36,000 acres of A&B lands on Maui that used to be sugarcane). This design also invites people building their own homes to think about what makes Hawai‘i unique and to strive to maintain that. I wahi ōpū weuweu no kākou - Let us have a small clump of grass (a humble home).
Most of the plants central to the well-being of our ancestors were brought to Hawaiʻi on canoes, but olonā was already here when the first people stepped onto the shores of the islands. Known to scientists as Touchardia latifolia, the strength of the fibers in the body of this endemic plant rival that of most other fiber plants known to man. Hawaiians originally found this species growing in valley streams and wet upland areas, but once they discovered its utility they began to cultivate it extensively. They became experts in extracting these fibers by the thousands and making them into cordage of varying widths. These cords were used for lashing or binding all manner of things, for fishing line and traps, and to make a variety of nets (for both fishing and carrying). The koʻi (adze) was made by lashing a piece of ʻalā (dense basaltic rock) to a wooden handle with olonā cordage, enabling our ancestors to fell trees and turn them into canoes. So crucial were these fibers to everyday life that they were collected during Makahiki along with the other items given as ʻauhau (goods contributed to the aliʻi by the makaʻāinana; also the name for the stem or body of plants such as olonā and wauke). Olonā was used in the manufacture of ʻahu ʻula (feather capes), ahu laʻī (rain capes), and kāhili (feather standards) among many other things. Not only was it an important item of trade among Hawaiians, but also became a powerful tool for bartering with foreign sailors who found the fiber superior for rigging as it was stronger than hemp and did not deteriorate in salt water. ʻAʻole e loaʻa ka lawa lua o ka ʻāloa - The strength and binding power of olonā fibers has no equal.