book review: “Kanaka ʻōiwi methodologies : moʻolelo and metaphor” (part one)
Kanaka ʻōiwi methodologies, edited by Katrina-Ann R Kapāʻanaokalāokeola Nākoa Oliveira and Erin Kahunawaikaʻala Wright, is the fourth volume in the Hawaiʻinuiākea monograph series, a series produced by Hawaiʻinuiākea School of Hawaiian Knowledge:
The Hawaiʻinuiākea Monograph is the first publishing project under the new Hawaiʻinuiākea Publishing initiative. The peer-reviewed series, co-published with University of Hawaiʻi Press, is a venue for scholars, leaders–as well as practitioners–in the Hawaiian community.
rather than providing summaries and my opinions, i’ll instead be sharing some of the notes i made as i was reading each chapter.
Reproducing the Ropes of Resistance: Hawaiian Studies Methodologies by Noelani Goodyear-Ka’opua
this chapter begins with the following:
by Haunani-Kay Trask, from her poem “Sons”
it also includes a quote from “the great physician, health researcher, and hawaiian independence advocate Lekuni Akana Blaisdell”: “Our ancestors are always with us as long as we think of them, talk to them, engage them in our thinking and planning and beliefs and actions.”
she writes a short history of the current resurgence of hawaiian studies - an important and valuable contribution.
the main section of this chapter sets out the “central commitments and lines of inquiry” of hawaiian studies:
lahui (collective identity and self-definition)
ea (sovereignty, leadership, breath, life, rising up, emergence)
kuleana (responsibility, privilege, obligations, positionality)
pono (balance, harmonious relationships, justice, and healing)
Goodyear-Ka’opua writes “Kanaka Maoli are defined by our ancestry. This is who we are. Hawaiian studies research fleshes out this assertion. At the same time, the confident articulation of who we are is held in productive tension with the question, Who are we?”
She argues that this dual approach is “a practice of ‘Oiwi survivance. As Anishinaabe author and cultural critic, Gerald Vizenor writes, ‘Survivance is the continuance of stories, not a mere reaction, however pertinent.’ Survivance is about our lahui’s ‘renewal and continuity into the future...through welcoming unpredictable cultural reorientations.’ i hadn’t heard of survivance before, so i’ll have to read gerald vizenor.
on ea: “ea is an active state of being. Like breathing, ea cannot be achieved or possessed; it requires constant action day after day, generation after generation.”
“the health/breath of the people is directly linked to the health/breath of the land.”
she quotes Kumu ‘Imaikalani Winchester, an educator who restores lo’i kalo (taro ponds):
“For a sixteen-year-old kid who knows nothing else other than living downtown some place, if they can get out and experience some different things, return to their past, they can actually breathe that life - that ea - into our culture and traditions again. ... Hawaiian education is carrying the heavy kuleana of introducing collectivist ideas into a very individualist world, where private property, capitalism, and the free market runs or guides most decision making and policies.”
a few scholar she quotes whose work i’ll have to investigate:
Linda Tuhiwai Smith (author of Decolonizing Methodologies)
Lilikala Kame’eleihiwa (author of Native Lands and Foreign Desires: Pehea la e pono ai?)
Ua Noho Au A Kupa I Ke Alo by R. Keawe Lopes Jr.
Lopes uses the words of a mele (chant) to explore concepts that have been central to his research.
“In conducting research within our communities, building relationships with mentors is vital to acquiring information. The quality of knowledge shared and gained is dependent on the depth of the relationship. The first two lines of the mele state ‘ua noho au a kupa i ke alo, akama’aina la i ka leo,’ which means ‘I have sat, inhabited, and tarried here until I have become accustomed to you in your presence and familiar with your voice.’”
noho is ‘“to live, reside, inhabit, occupy (as land), dwell, stay, tarry, marry, sit” and has the connotation of establishing oneself in a certain place or with a particular person... Historically, to noho was to express humbleness and respect...” i think this reflects a culture of learning that’s based on a master/mentor-student relationship, or an apprentice relationship. something that in western culture one might associate with learning a skilled craft or art. i really like the idea of approaching people with noho. it puts the would-be student into the right frame of mind to learn.
“to identify oneself as a kupa, one must be a longtime resident, possessing personal and lasting relationships with the people and the mo’olelo of that place, both ancient and modern.
The term ‘kupa’ further implies that the commitment to our mentors is a lifelong investment.”
in describing his studies of mele and hula with his mentor, Lopes writes:
“Often the real in-depth learning of contextual information related to mele and hula began after our regular class sessions were done. Sometimes it continued for hours in the parking lot. In such moments exciting mo’olelo of mele and hula exponents of the past were shared. This experience taught me that, to persevere in a lasting relationship with our mentors, we must be truly passionate and extremely patient. These qualities will enable us to endure both good times-days of great epiphany and hours of captivating conversations-and bad. True patience considers the cost and makes the necessary sacrifices to always be ready and available for learning, no matter the time or place.”
“’kama’aina’ reinforces the importance of investment; moreover it implies the idea of being embraced geneologically... ‘kama’ means ‘descendant’ or ‘child.’ It also means to be bound or tied to something. The term ‘’aina’ means ‘land.’ ‘Kama’aina’ therefore are genealogical descendants of the land, bound and secured to it and who benefit from a reciprocal relationship with her. As a result, kama’aina care for the well-being of the land while maintaining a mutual relationship with her.
This type of reciprocation is seen in student-mentor relationships as well.”
“The ‘alo’ is the front, face, or presence of a Person (Pukui 1983, p.21). It tells us where our attention is directed and where our interests lie. It is my belief that if we turn our alo toward our mentors and keep our interest faced in their direction, they will know that we truly have a vested interest in gaining knowledge and value the relationship we have with them. When our mentors decide to turn their attention to us, it is then that we realize that we are just as important to them. It is when our alo and the alo of our mentors are attentive to each other that the most effective teaching and learning opportunities occur. This type of experience is known as ‘he alo a he alo’ or ‘face to face’ (Pukui 1983, p.21).
He alo a he alo is the way in which relationships are built and the way knowledge is transmitted, communicated, and received. There is no clearer way to be in a relationship or in communion with another person than he alo a he alo.”
Leo: engagement of the Voiced
“In an oral-based society, the leo (voice) is an important tool of expert orators who keep our people connected to the past by reciting our ancient mele and mo’olelo... They enlighten us with insight that becomes embedded in our memory. The leo is the eternal link between our people past and present. It transcends place and time and is audible even beyond the physical.” (i believe this is referring to the way that you can picture a family member telling you something they always told you even after they’ve passed away)
also, if you teach with all the love that you’ve been taught by a beloved elder, if you’ve done right by them, then you may find your students sounding just like the elder. this is another way that you can hear the ancestors’ voice after they’re gone.
here’s a great saying: “Hilihewa kahi mana’o ke ‘ole ke kukakuka” (”ideas run wild without discussion”) (Pukui 1983, p. 106) “As Pukui explains, to learn and be aware of the specifics of any knowledge, it is necessary to be personally involved (p.24).
This involvement is necessary for learning the mana’o (thoughts, intentions, beliefs) of our mentors (Pukui and Elbert 1986, p. 236). Pukui explains that the mana’o is not something that is readily seen: It is concealed in a number of layers of interpretations. As it is said, 'He ana ka mana’o o ke kanaka, ‘a’ole ‘oe e ‘ike ia loko,’ which means that ‘the thoughts of man are like caves whose interiors one cannot see’ (Pukui 1983, p. 64).”
“As explained, by being in constant contact with our mentors’ alo and leo we are able to experience their intentions, thoughts, and beliefs. This is when we are allowed access to the ‘waihona.’ A waihona, according to Pukui and Elbert, is a ‘depository, closet, cabinet, vault, file, receptacle, savings, or a place for laying up thing in safe-keeping’ (1986, p. 378). A waihona could also be a person, as expressed in the saying ‘Ka waihona o ka na’auao,’ which is a reference to a person who is a repository of knowledge and is considered to be learned (Pukui 1983, p. 178).
The location of this waihona to which Kalakaua’s mele refers is ‘i’ane’i’ (right here) within our reach. It is a waihona that contains aloha or that has been cared for by aloha or is in the possession of aloha.”
“I have heard kupuna share that the term ‘aloha’ is made up of two words - alo (presence) and ha (breath) - and its meaning is so much more than a kind disposition. Aloha is that which births in all of us the patience to endure, the courage to hold fast to our traditions, and the strength to face any adversity. Pilahi Paki, a renowned kupuna, explained that each of the letters that make up the word ‘aloha’ have meaning that comprises its overall significance:
Akahai, meaning kindness to be expressed with tenderness;
Lokahi, meaning unity, to be expressed with harmony;
‘Olu’olu, meaning agreeable, to be expressed with pleasantness;
Ha’aha’a, meaning humility, to be expressed with modesty;
Ahonui, meaning patience, to be expressed with perseverance.”
“Paki encouraged us ‘to hear what is not said, to see what cannot be seen and to know the unknowable.’ I find this very true for those of us who invest in relationships and experience the alo and leo of our mentors, who that even when things are not said there is something to listen for, when there is nothing to see there is something to notice, and when the unforeseen arises we rest assured of what we have already been taught.”
He Lei Aloha ‘Aina by Mehana Blaich Vaughan
This chapter is about lei, both actual lei and lei as a metaphor. It also includes bits from the author’s personal history and how this history has shaped her approach to research, and discussion of an education/research/conservation trip to Lumaha’i Valley on Kaua’i.
It begins with these two sayings:
“He lei pa’iniu no Kilauea. (A lei of pa’iniu, signifying that the wearer has visited Kilauea Crater.)
He lei pahapaha no Polihale. (A lei of pahapaha limu, signifying that the wearer has visited Polihale, Kaua’i.)
Throughout Hawai’i, lei symbolize certain places and show that the wearer has experienced them. Lei offer a way to see and know a landscape because each lei is unique to the place where it is made.”
“My Tutu, Amelia Ana Ka’opua Bailey, taught me to pay attention to ‘aina, with a focus on what type of lei could be made from each place. Riding with Tutu in the car was an adventure because she was always looking out the window, her eyes tracing the trees, the bank along the side of the road, even the median strip of the freeway. I remember waiting in the car as she darted across four lanes of H-1 to pick salmon-colored bougainvillea, a Times supermarket grocery bag trailing behind her. Whether driving the saddle road on Hawai’i Island or the streets of her own Manoa Valley, Tutu was watching for flowers. To her, every landscape offered a tantalizing vision of its own lei just waiting to be made.
I have a similar craving to weave stories of certain landscapes. Since I was a child, everywhere I went, I remember wondering, Who are the people of this place? What did it look like before? What parts of it (plants, views, fish, rock, walls) are still here? Will they be here in the future?”
In the discussion of the trip to Lumaha’i Valley:
“When the sound of the helicopter trailed off, our group offered oli komo, asking to enter. We also addressed Laka, all around us in the dwarf lehua, flowering ‘ie’ie, and three different vining maile sisters. As we gave our lei and ho’okupu, I was reminded of one community member’s question as we were getting input for the trip: ‘If you believe in Laka, why go? You don’t believe she can handle the forest on her own?’ To me, our offerings, our presence in that place were a means of ho’omana, giving strength to Laka, just as she gave strength to our efforts. Still, each step in the bog felt tender, and no matter how carefully we walked, we stomped on the moss, leaving indentations for mosquito puddles. Each sling load that brought tents, cereal boxes, coolers, the work, and our other gear further flattened uluhe under the weight, sound, and wind of the chopper.”
“This trip, unlike many conservation and environmental research efforts in Hawai’i, incorporated means of acknowledging the sacredness of our ‘work site’ and asking its guidance; of accessing people’s stories and connection to this place, however tentative and distant; and of reconnecting the place to community by training younger generations descended from the area to take care of it. These three threads gleaned from our trip continue to shape my attempts at ‘aina-based research: ‘aina as source, ‘aina as people, and ‘aina as ongoing connection and care.”
“We stand facing the lunging water, teeth chattering, and find our voices...This oli asks permission of this place, of the wai, the water itself, for our work. We explain the purpose of our study, why the water will be used, and how. May we take just a small sample from its home in the kahawai, the stream? Just as a pohaku, rock, needs to know the function for which it is being selected so that it may lend its mana to the effort, wai should be asked to come along too.”
“Once removed, these aspects of ‘aina must continue to be treated with respect.”
“...’Aina should be not only subject but also partner, source, inspiration, and guide.”
“...it is rarely easy to identiy the community of people with connections to a place; this community is often unseen. However, every place in Hawai’i has people attached to it who care about and hold deep wisdom of it. These people [are] worth seeking...”
There’s an excellent story about fisherpeople who were involved in community planning for their fishery: “The fishermen wanted to extend our study to understand where fish from the area ended up. We worked together to track what fish they caught, who they gave them to, and where. This work revealed a network of families connected to Ha’ena’s coast by receiving gifted mahele, or shares of fish, even though they lived on the other side of the island or even on the mainland. Most of these fish recipients had ancestral ties to the area...” This illustrates the point that “People’s connections to places are often built through use.”
"s much as possible, I attend regularly scheduled community meetings and workdays to get feedback on research progress and share preliminary findings. These sessions usually include food and informal discussion, often yielding valuable insight into whether our findings ring true, potential explanations for them, and future directions for research. I also hold formal community presentations to share research in forms that can be utilized to support community efforts. ...my research emphasizes helping people add to in-depth knowledge of places where they have kuleana, responsibility.”
“My research often comes together in mo’olelo, storytelling, and in poetry, avenues our kupuna used, like lei, to make beloved places seen and felt.”
“In my environmental research, I am guided by Tutu’s informal, mostly unspoken, instruction in gathering for lei. Oli first: Ask and explain the purpose for your gathering. Look. Listen. Take only what you need. Clean your materials before you depart, leaving as much as you can with the plants to rejuvenate and replenish. When the process is complete, and the lei dries, bring it back to this spot or return it to some other ‘aina to bring growth.”
The author concludes with a poem composed of “individual bits of material gathered from the area where I grew up.”
“Research, like lei, should bring growth along with beauty, should weave disparate elements together in a way that shows new perspective and creates new life.”
Here is the poem. I love it because it includes all kinds of good things to know about a place. This is my kind of knowledge.
WAO NAHELE - UPLAND FOREST, 140 ACRES, TMK #13-531
Name lost
Bird catchers' camp
Where orange lehua once bloomed
Branch coral laid gently on an altar
The place where hte hungting dogs froze
Road launching power lines over the mountain
Straightest guava branches for kala'au
The spot the Pleiades first crest the ridge
In October's crisping dusk.
KULA - FLATLANDS, 10.2 ACRES, TMK #13-45
Below Pu'u Maheu, hill-raking winds
wet soil for growing 'uala
Sunset view meditation spot
Place to check surf at "Wires"
Night path of the spirits returning from shore
Where we kids used to ride our bikes
The first gated driveway that we'd ever seen
Former route of the sugar cane train
Field #45, best yield per acre
State land-use classification...Ag.
KAHAWAI - RIPARIAN ZONE, 1.4 ACRES, TMK #13-172
A taro patch called Nahiku
'Auwai with 'o'opu mouths big as a fist
First place to flood, now so much less water
Where the cousin on crystal meth hides
Rocks the women scrubbed clothing clean on
Roof dropped there by the tsunami
Perch for the child scaring rice birds
Stand up paddle right out to the beach
Option to construct two ADU's (ed: additional dwelling unit)
Vacation rentals with kitchenettes
KAHAKAI - COASTAL LANDS, 0.2 ACRES, TMK #13-890
Kamakau, the long curving hook
Line of shells swept up by first swell
The hill used to kilo (ed: spot fish), direct them to moi
The space to spread nets out to dry
Two turtle eggs hatching one March morning
Outflow of bagasse from the mill
Shearwater flyway that stopped power lines
Where the sand departs from in the fall
'Aholehole caught for baby's lu'au
Eel circling the spot Uncle cleaned them
Those 'champagne pools' the guidebook named
Six visitors swept away this last winter
Private beach view, price $2.7 million dollars
Right where the fishing trail used to descend