Bishop Museum-Hawaiʻi Hall (Kū i Ka Paia)

E hō mai ka ʻike mai luna mai e.

That was my manaʻo for today, for this whole first week of school basically.  For the first time, since its re-opening, I went to Hawaiʻi Hall at the Bishop Museum to help hoʻoulu a kupu i kuʻu naʻau.


(Photo: Honolulu Midweek/July 14, 2010/E Kū Ana Ka Paia, Bishop Museum-Hawaiʻi Hall/The unification of these three Kū back in Hawaiʻi after leaving approximiately over 150 years ago.

Hawaiʻi Hall is beautiful, I am really happy with the new renovations and restorations.  I am also very glad that all the exhibits were switched out and it now can be truly called "Hawaiʻi Hall".  All of the exhibits showcased artifacts from our people and our history.  I also got a re-awakening of who I am and why I am doing what I do.

I first walked in, with pale on the right wrist, did my little pule for myself and the kūpuna to hear.  I asked for protection, but I also asked to gain knowledge.  And there they were, Kū, the kiʻi carvings that once stood proudly at their respective heiau for our people to hoʻomana.  They are from a time period that is foreign to Hawaiians today, I am sad to say that the Kū had a very long return trip home only to come to a different Hawaiʻi.  But I honestly feel that they will help us further remember who we are and what we need to do.

At 1:00 p.m., I sat in on a "Ola Nā Moʻolelo" session, this one in particular about the events leading up to the overthrow and what happened after, entitled "Mai Poina ʻOe Iaʻu".  Lokomaikaʻi, one of the workers of Bishop Museum, played a Hawaiian woman living during the time of the Overthrow.  She entered singing/chanting "Kaulana Nā Pua" with tears in her eyes.  As she incorporated the events leading up to the Overthrow with her life experiences, I started crying.  I admit, I cry a lot during movies and stuff, but that is in the comfort of my home by myself.  It is not often I will cry in front of strangers in a brightly lit setting.  To hear again the fate of our people those hundred some years ago, way before even the birth of my grandparents, I had to cry; I had to let the naʻau speak for it was its way to remind me why I am Hawaiian.

Later, I made my way to the third floor of Hawaiʻi Hall and came across the silver ribbon that inspired the story I heard at 1:00. It was about a foot long, silver ribbon, with red text that read "Mai Poina ʻOe Iaʻu" and above it the signature from Queen Liliʻuokalani herself.  I cried again, luckily it was in the corner of the floor and I was by myself.  Firstly, I thought to myself, I wouldn't dare to forget our beloved Liliʻu and secondly, I was standing in front of something Liliʻu touched herself, her name that she wrote herself.  And nearby was Queen Liliʻokalani's gown that she wore to Kalākaua's coronation.  Her mana was definitely felt in that corner.

Down the corridor from the silver ribbon was something I did not know still existed.  Kāʻei Kapu o Līloa, Ka Malo o Līloa, and Nalukoki (Līloa's niho palaoa) were all in a display case right in front of me.  And there went the tears again.  I took Lilikalā's HWST 341: Hawaiian Genealogies class and learned about Līloa, his wahine ʻAkahiakuleana and their son ʻUmi-a-Līloa and about these items.  These items date back to the 1400s and I thought these items were lost or returned to the earth, but no.  To have something physical in front of you that had been touched by an Aliʻi from that long ago, hundreds of years even before Kamehameha  I himself is just awestruck.

Before I left, I finally made my presence in front of the Kū.  But before this, I hugged friends goodbye and my pale lāʻī came lose and then came off.  I was surprised, it lasted the entire 2 or 3 hours I spent in Hawaiʻi Hall, but just before I go to see Kū, it comes off.  I decided to still make my way to Kū, if anything bad happened or I had a bad feeling, I would turn away, but no.  I walked up to the three kiʻi and made my presence known to show respect of who I was and my intentions.  In my naʻau, I felt okay.  I felt confirmation that my intentions of working in Ka Papahana Kaiapuni Hawaiʻi (Hawaiian Immersion Education Program) is my kuleana now and the bigger picture is to help re-build our people to their highly esteemed status that they once held.  And no, I didn't cry again.  Although walking to observe Kū, the two security guards that sat away decided to sit closer to Kū.  I guess because I had the red Aloha Army t-shirt and with my long, tied back hair I looked like I would do something Kūʻē.  Look at the stereotyping for Hawaiians today, sheesh!

Overall, mahalo iā ʻoukou.  This is a great way to start my Masters program.  This is was a good welcome for me to get that much closer to really putting my mark in Hawaiian history.

E mālama nō kākou pākahi a pau kekahi i kekahi.

Mauʻumae Trail

One of the beautiful things of Oʻahu isn't only the City of Honolulu.  Before Wednesday, August 18, 2010, I have never heard of Mauʻumae Trail.  This trail is located on the right side of Pālolo Valley and it takes you along the top of the mountain ridge.  I have gone on a few hiking trails on Oʻahu, but this is by far the most difficult I had to do, but it was one of the most awe inspiring.

(Photo: Kaipo Tam/August 18, 2010/Mauʻumae Trail looking over Pālolo Valley)

As a part of our orientation in the Hoʻokulāiwi, Masters of Education-Teaching program, on the third day, we were brought to do this trail.  I was brought by Hawaiians to this trail and throughout this hike we spoke ʻŌlelo Hawaiʻi.  A part of me felt like we brought some life back to this area, even though our kumu have gone on this hike numerous times before, I felt that our presence and our ʻŌlelo helped to give back to our kūpuna on that mountain.  To let them know that we are still here and still fighting and still showing love to them.

(Photo: Kaipo Tam/August 18, 2010/Mauʻumae Trail looking over Pālolo.  Waikīkī and Helumoa are in the far background.)

What made this hike so difficult was the walking up and down three hills along this ridge to get to our destination which was 2 miles in and a lot of parts along this trail were steep.  But I had to persevere and finish the hike in and back out.  When things became really difficult for me and I was ready to give up, I honestly uttered a short prayer in Hawaiian to ask for help from nā akua and nā kūpuna, and what do you know...every time I asked for help, a gentle, cool breeze came through pushing me in the direction we were going in.

(Photo: Kaipo Tam/August 18, 2010/Mauʻumae Trail looking over Pālolo.  Leʻahi (Diamond Head) in the background, viewing the back of the mountain.)

The view along this trail was incredible and the amount of lāʻau Hawaiʻi I saw up there were just as awesome.  I was meant to be up here and I am definitely going on the right path to my future by being in this graduate program with these persevering Hawaiians, who I can call my colleagues in a couple of years.  I won't forget this hike and I remember why I do what I do for my people.

"...When Kākuhihewa saw that there was peace under the rule of Kalelealuaka...he left Kapuaikaula in Puʻuloa (Pearl Harbor) and moved to Mauʻumae at Waiʻalae, on the other side of Kaimukī, facing Maunalua.  There he lived until he died.

Kalelealuaka
      Ke Au Hou, Dec. 14, 1910
      Oʻahu Places"

This is an excerpt from Sites of Oʻahu by Elspeth P. Sterling & Catherine C. Summers.  Page 276.

ʻImi Naʻauao

What does it feel like to know that your people (ethnic group/tribe) are achieving greatness and doing well on their own?  In my case, what does it feel like to be really proud to say that I am a Hawaiian, in this day and age of the 21st century when we are still considered the minority in our own ancestral land?

I had another epiphany moment last night.  I was awarded a generous scholarship from the Kamehameha Schools ʻImi Naʻauao program.  ʻImi Naʻauao is awarded to many native Hawaiian students in Graduate-level or graduate-equivalent programs ranging from education to medicine, and from law to business, but also from film and TV production to Hawaiian Studies.  I am very appreciative to be of that group of selected individuals.

To give a brief background, I was not one of the privileged few to attend the Kamehameha Schools.  Kamehameha Schools is the largest and wealthiest private education institution in the world, the endowment is worth an estimated $7.2 billion (as of June 2010) and yes, this school supports people with native Hawaiian ancestry. Harvard University, from what I read in an article, comes second to Kamehameha.

As I sat there during the orientation, eating a late dinner with the provided mini-mini-bento, I had to stop for a moment.  A video about (Princess) Pauahi's Legacy was playing, and I realized I was proud to be Hawaiian (again).  I sat in a room/building dedicated to Hawaiians, built with money from Hawaiians, in a room full of future Hawaiian professionals, watching a video about Hawaiians by Hawaiians, and I was receiving a scholarship with Hawaiian money. It definitely was a different sight to see from the norm for me.  I live in Chinatown and as I head to the bus stop every morning to go to school, all the Hawaiians I see are homeless, a drug addict, and/or in a gang and I count my blessings that my ʻohana has provided me.  On a daily basis, I see the negative effects of Missionary contact from over two hundred years ago; and obviously it continues to effects our people.

But for those two hours, I was so proud to see the other side of Hawaiians, although it can be seen as an everyday Western event that so happens Hawaiians are there.  Does your average American feel this way on a daily basis? Most likely not, and if they do, it's a different idea to them, to them they are proud to be American, as a nationality because it is NOT an ethnic group.  I am sure after the apartheid ended in South Africa and Nelson Mandela became President, this is how the African tribe(s) of that area felt.  For once, in a long time, they are in control and they do not need to feel like the minority and be underrepresented.

Think about the possibilities.