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What’s it Going to Take?

What's it Going to Take? An executive forum on making life better in Hawaiʻi

INSIGHTS ON PBS HAWAIʻI
What’s it Going to Take? The Health of Hawaiʻi’s People

 

PBS Hawaiʻi is asking What’s it Going to Take?, in an ongoing series of live televised forums seeking to galvanize decision-makers, communities and all of us to make life in Hawaiʻi better. This special edition of INSIGHTS ON PBS HAWAIʻI (Thurs., Nov. 14, 8:00 pm) drills down on The Health of Hawaiʻi’s People.

 

A grim truth lies beneath the surface of Hawaiʻi’s four years of accolades as the healthiest state in the country. Hawaiʻi Community Foundation’s CHANGE Framework data shows that when income, neighborhood and ethnicity are factored in, almost one-third of island residents have high blood pressure – and residents in low-income areas on all islands live shorter lives. What’s it going to take to create a healthier Hawaiʻi? Join the conversation by phoning in, or by leaving us a comment on Facebook or Twitter.

 

Phone Lines:
462-5000 on Oahu or 800-238-4847 on the Neighbor Islands.

 

Email:
insights@pbshawaii.org

 

Facebook:
Visit the PBS Hawai‘i Facebook page.

 

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Join our live discussion using #pbsinsights

 

 

 

LONG STORY SHORT WITH LESLIE WILCOX
Francis “Palani” Sinenci

LONG STORY SHORT WITH LESLIE WILCOX: Francis "Palani" Sinenci

 

After leaving his isolated hometown of Hāna, Maui, Francis “Palani” Sinenci spent decades away in the military before becoming inspired to reconnect with his Hawaiian roots. Serendipitously, he fell into the art of building traditional Native Hawaiian houses. Over the past twenty years, he has become a master, having built more than 300 traditional Hawaiian hales thatched with grass or leaves.

 

Program

 

This program will be rebroadcast on Sunday, Nov. 24, at 4:00 pm and 11:30 pm.

 

Francis “Palani” Sinenci Audio

 

Download the Transcript

 

Transcript

 

And do hale stand up to strong, strong winds?

 

Well, we really haven’t had one that’s Category 5. But we had a storm … and we had campers at our site.  And you know, we heard the wind—whoosh.  But we were living in a cement house with a pitch roof.  So, the next morning, I go outside; our pitch and tar roof, that thick, blew off the house.  I go: Oh, god.  So, I went and looked down at my hale.  Six leaves blew off the hale, which were not tied.

 

That’s it?

 

Six leaves.

 

So, very durable construction.

 

It is durable.  It’s like a coconut tree; it bends with the wind.  Yeah.

 

He lashes together hale, or traditional Hawaiian houses, that can withstand fierce winds.  Francis “Palani” Sinenci, next, on Long Story Short.

 

One-on-one engaging conversations with some of Hawai‘i’s most intriguing people: Long Story Short with Leslie Wilcox.

 

Aloha mai kākou.  I’m Leslie Wilcox.  After retiring from the U.S. Air Force as a Chief Master Sergeant, Francis “Palani” Sinenci is now a chief of a different order.  He has built over three hundred hale, or traditional Native Hawaiian houses, thatched with grass or leaves.  Uncle Palani, as he’s often called, is a master hale-builder.  He grew up in the isolated town of Hāna and Kāpahulu, Maui, to a Native Hawaiian mother and an immigrant Filipino father.

 

I had a really fun life.  ‘Cause I was born in Hāna, the plantation was just winding down, and cattle was being brought in, so I was in that transition stage.  And so, I just grew up fishing all the time.  You know, we lived right close to the ocean, right next to a boarding house with all mixed ethnic workers from all over.  They had Japanese, Portagees, Filipinos, Hawaiians, and we lived in a place called Old Camp.  My dad was from the Philippines.  He was a plantation worker.

 

And he came to work plantation, and he got sent to Hāna?

 

He almost went to jail, ‘cause my mother was only fifteen years old when they got my older brother.

 

And your mom was from Hāna?

 

Yeah; my mom was from—

 

Hawaiian from Hāna.

 

Yeah.  But lucky thing he didn’t go to jail, ‘cause I wouldn’t have been here.

 

Oh; ‘cause that was your older brother.

 

That was my older brother.

 

Got it. 

 

Yeah.

 

How many siblings do you have?

 

It was altogether, nine.  And there were two girls and seven boys.  And I’m number two.  And I lived with that number-two syndrome for all my life.  ‘Cause my older brother immediately got hanai’d by my tutu lady.  So, I was the oldest in the family, so I had to take care of my siblings while my mom and dad went to work.  Yeah.

 

So, does that mean you took care of feeding them during the day?  Your siblings.

 

After I got to be about like eight to ten years old, yeah, I started taking care of the younger ones.  I was a really good spear fisherman, ‘opihi picker.  And we did a lot of kalua pig, and all.  You know, regular stuff.

 

So, you gathered your food.

 

Oh, yeah.  We were gathering.  We were on the lower part of the ahupua‘a, I guess you call it, and we’re mostly ocean people.  So, some of the people from Kaupōor Ke‘anae, they’d grow the taro, these guys would grow the goats and whatever. So, we’d trade, you know.

 

You would have the fish.

 

Yeah, we’d trade.  We had fish, and then every week, we’d get taro.  I didn’t know where it came from, but they brought in taro. Sometimes, we’d have goat, and we’d have beef.  So, I was on the border of when Hawaiians just starting to start eating rice.  So, I was raised up eating rice.  And taro; we pounded all our own taro.  Every week, we had taro.

 

So, whatever you ate came from the land?

 

Came from the land.

 

And the sea?

 

Yeah.  It was fun. I had a good childhood.

 

But you ended up traveling all over the place.  So, you went from a very small and remote area, very isolated by geography.

 

Yeah.

 

What made you leave?

 

Well, about my high school days, I joined the Civil Air Patrol.  It was the thing; it was a way to get off island, free, on Air Force airplanes. So, I joined the Civil Air Patrol, and we used to travel to different islands, and got a taste of other than Hāna or other than Maui.

 

After graduating high school in the isolated town of Hāna, Maui, Francis “Palani” Sinenci says he got itchy feet, and wanted to see the world.  So, he enlisted in the Navy, and left behind his rural life and worked on the flight deck of an aircraft carrier, the USS Hancock.

 

I was an air crew survival equipment technician. In other words, I took care of the pilots’ survival gear, and some of his environmental systems within the aircraft, like breathing, his G-suits, his ensemble.

 

Did you rig up his parachute?

 

Oh, yeah.  In fact, one of the pilots got shot over South Vietnam, and he jumped out of the plane.  Not ejected; jumped out and used my parachute.  And he came back to me one day and he says: Here’s your Crown Royal. So, the person that packs the parachute that was used gets a bottle of Crown Royal.  That’s the tradition.

 

After traveling the world on an aircraft carrier, Francis “Palani” Sinenci wanted to attend college.  So, after four years in the Navy, he returned home to Maui to enroll in school.  That plan did not last long, as Sinenci says he got itchy feet once again, and enlisted in the Air Force.  Sinenci would spend the next twenty-five years in the Air Force, rising to the rank of Chief Master Sergeant.

 

I know what happened between the time you were in the Navy and the time you joined the Air Force.

 

Met my wife.

 

Yes.

 

Yeah.  I went to a party.  And she looked fourteen years old, playing the piano.  And I asked my auntie: Hey, who’s that little girl playing the piano? She goes: That little girl is nineteen years old; she’s going to University of Hawai‘i.  Oh, that changed my whole … oh, yeah; intelligent, too.  I don’t know if she’s watching.  But anyway …

 

Long story short; we’ve been married fifty-one years.

 

And I know you call her your wife for life.

 

Mm.

 

And I asked her where she calls home, because you’ve lived so many places.

 

Yeah.

 

And she said: Wherever my husband is.

 

Good answer.

 

It is a tough life.  And she’s in the Reserves, or she was in the Reserves.

 

Was.

 

Right? So, how did that work?  You then joined the Air Force.

 

Luckily, we lived close to the base.  And she went temporary duty sometimes, off base to other bases, but only for two weeks at a time.  You know, the Air Force and the service is like one big family.  They always take care of each other. Yeah.  So, there’s no worries.

 

During the time you were in the Air Force, and then the—first, the Navy, and then the Air Force, were you keeping Hawaiian traditions?  Or how much a part of your life was Hawai‘i?

 

Well, actually, I kind of wanted to distance myself from home.  ‘Cause I wanted to see the world.  And I go: Oh, man, the world is my oyster.  You know, I really loved what I was doing, and I was traveling a lot. And I go: Hāna is just a little dot, you know, I grew up there.

 

At the end of your service in Air Force, in which you did very well, you were all set to retire on the mainland.

 

Uh-huh.

 

Where?

 

South Carolina, Charleston.

 

Why South Carolina?

 

Because I had a home there.  And my home was like Hawai‘i; I had banana trees, literally, my back yard was a Hawaiian garden.

 

And you were okay living in Charleston.

 

Charleston, South Carolina.

 

Rather than back home.

 

Yeah; my son was there, my wife was there, you know. So, yeah.  And all my friends were there.  Close to the golf course, I had all my imu rocks.  You know, I was like at home.

 

What happened?  Why aren’t you in Charleston right now?

 

So, one night, a friend of mine calls me over to his house.  He goes: Hey, brah, come over.  Hawaiian Senior Master Sergeant.  Come over, and let’s watch some some videos.  He just came back from Hawai‘i.  So, I go: Sure.  So, my wife and I go over, and we’re having pupus and drinking beer.  And he shows the Merrie Monarch.  I go: Wow!  And I started getting emotional.  And I said to my wife: Tomorrow morning, I’m putting in my retirement papers.  And she goes: What?  Where we going?  I go: We’re moving back to Hawai‘i.  And she goes: Really?  Yeah. She goes: What about our house?  I go: We’ll sell it or leave it for the son.

 

Just like that.

 

Just like that.

 

And it was the call of the Hawaiian culture?

 

Yeah.

 

Which you had not really repressed.  You’d lived it, but you also didn’t really seek to immerse yourself in it.

 

Yeah.

 

Wow.

 

And it was Eddie Kamae, and he was playing, you know, cowboy songs and all that.  Wow; I really got choked up.

 

So, it was two films; Merrie Monarch and Eddie Kamae?

 

Eddie Kamae; yeah.

 

Wow.

 

And later on, I told Eddie Kamae; I go: You know, you’re responsible for bringing me home.  When we had a chance meeting over in Maui at a festival.

 

Inspired to reconnect with his Hawaiian roots, Francis “Palani” Sinenci retired from the Air Force, packed up, and shipped out to Hawaii from South Carolina.

 

 

And you knew where you would come when you got home, you would go to Hāna?

 

Well, actually, I didn’t go to Hāna.  I just wanted to come home.  You know. And so, I came home, and the first thing my brother-in-law says: Hey, you know what, we need a kūpuna at school.  They were lacking teachers and stuff.  I go: What’s a kūpuna? You know, like, all my Hawaiian stuff was all left back in the old days.  So, he goes: A kūpuna, you know, a teacher, an elder.  I go: Oh, okay.  I don’t know anything about kūpuna. So, he goes: Well, you know what, go and interview with our principal, Jan. I go: Okay.  So, I show up.  And I considered myself old at that time; I was forty-eight years old, you know.

 

I was forty-eight years old.  ‘Cause in the military, when you’re forty-eight, you’re an old man.  And you really are; they make you feel like an old man.  So, I was doing backflips, and they called me an old man.  So anyway, I went and interviewed.  And she goes: You’re from Hāna; yeah?  I go: Yeah.  She goes: Can you speak Hawaiian?  I go: I can understand.  You know, I was brought up by my tutu lady, and yeah, I can, little bit.  She goes: No problem.  She says: Here’s what you gotta do; we’re gonna hire you, with all the classes I need to take.  So, I had like, two ‘ōlelo classes, and an ‘ukulele class.  She goes: Can you sing, play ‘ukulele?  I go: Sure. You know, what local boy doesn’t know how to play ‘ukulele.  So, I got these three things; now I gotta go. So, immediately, she hired me immediately. And so, I had to report to work on Tuesday.  So, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday nights, I was in school.  Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday days, I was teaching.  So, I was going to ‘ōlelo classes.  By the time Friday came, I just said: I gotta get out of here.  Honolulu of course, I was living here.  And I used to just jump on my truck and go to the airport and fly to Hāna, and just go fishing.  Just forget everything.  Sunday night, fly back here.  Same thing; teach.  I was working like, twelve to sixteen hours a day, retired Air Force.

 

Yeah; your wife told me you don’t have a lazy bone in your body.  You’re always doing something.

 

Yeah.  It’s weird.

 

You just keep going.

 

I just don’t want to waste time.  Because tomorrow is not guaranteed.  That’s the way I look at it.

 

Francis “Palani” Sinenci kept himself busy reconnecting with his Hawaiian heritage, practicing taro cultivation and working as a kūpuna, or Hawaiian cultural elder, at Helemano Elementary School in Wahiawā, Central O‘ahu.  One day in 1994, he received a request from a fellow kūpuna that would shape the rest of his life.

 

So, one day, one of my kūpuna says: Uncle Francis—we always call each other auntie and uncle in front of the kids as a sign of respect.  And I don’t know if she’s older, or younger than me. But she goes: Uncle Palani, why don’t you build us a hale?  I go: What’s that?  She goes: A hale.  And I grew up with hale ‘au‘au.  That’s bathroom.

 

M-hm.

 

Hale hopau pilikia, hale unu, and these kinda hale. Not a sleeping house.  She goes: Hale pili.  I go: Oh, pili; like pili grass?  She goes: Yeah.  So, I said: You mean a grass shack, don’t you?  She goes: Yeah; it’s a hale, not a grass shack.  ‘Cause when I was growing up, a hale was a grass shack.  I want to go back to my little grass shack.  Everything was grass shack.  So, I go: I don’t know anything about building a hale.  She goes: Well, we’re gonna send you down to Waimea Falls Park, and you’re gonna see Uncle Rudy, and he’s gonna teach you how to build a hale.  So, I go: Okay.  So, I go down to Waimea Falls Park, and meet Uncle Rudy.  He’s back there by all his archaeological stuff in the back.  And he’s smoking a pipe.  So, he introduced me.  He goes: Oh, you want to build a hale; yeah, boy?   You want to build a hale, boy?  ‘Cause he was about sixty.

 

I go: Yes; yes, sir.  So, he brings out this pad, and he starts drawing the posts, the tenons and, you know, how to connect the hale.  I go: Wait a minute; I know how to do that.  And he goes: Really?  I go: Yeah.  He goes: Why are you here?  I go: No, when I was in the sixth grade, that was my homework.  Our teacher, Mrs. Naone said: You guys go to the library, and go find something Hawaiian, and come back and do a show-and-tell, you know, story. Gotta write about it; you gotta draw the pictures.  So, that’s what I did.  Everybody did like, lamalama torch, all the other things, you know.  I chose hale-building.  So, he writes down all these things that I need to do.  You go to Bishop Museum, you look, you go read this book, this book, this book.  So, I went to Bishop Museum, looked at the hale there, they let me go inside.  And I got Russ Apple’s book, Dr. Russ Apple, and I read through it.  I go: Oh, yeah, this is easy.  So, I went out and gathered the wood, and I built a little hale, about a six-foot hale for a project that I was working at one of the schools, Helemano School.  And when I built it, I invited him to come up to come up for the christening or blessing.  Yeah; oki ka piko.  And he came up; he goes: Wow, boy; you get ‘em.  Now, if you like become one master, you gotta build one twenty-by-forty.  I said: Uncle Rudy, I’ll never be a master; this is too much work.  He mentioned that: You need to go back to Hāna, and go build a kauhale at the Hāna Cultural Center.

 

What’s a kauhale?

 

It’s a group of different type of houses.  Or a village, like a small village.

 

He wanted you to build a small village?

 

Yeah.  So, I go to Hāna, and I see Ms. Coila Eade, who was kind of my mentor too.  She’s there, and she goes: Yeah, we need a kauhale.  So, she goes: You know, I’m from Hana.  She goes: You know how to build a hale?  We don’t know that you can build a hale. So, I had to go out and gather more wood, and build a small table model, using dental floss for the lashing, then cement and rocks, and built a hale for them.  And I presented it at the meeting, and they said: Okay, you’re hired.  So, I started my career right there.

 

And were you loving the process by that point?

 

Doing the first one, and then making the model, you know, everything sinks in, and you get some muscle memory.

 

So many different things.  You get the rocks.

 

Oh; yeah, yeah.

 

I mean, it looks simple, but it’s not.

 

I mean, for me, well, it came natural, ‘cause I worked with cords and stuff.  After I finished the kauhale, everybody in Hāna was like, jumping in and helping out.  In fact, one of the hales that I built, we didn’t have pili grass, so I had to use the alternative thatching materials, which was loulu palm, palm leaf, loulu, and ti leaves.  And that one hale took about almost half a million ti leaves to thatch the totally enclosed sleeping hale.  So, I had the whole community out there, gathering dried ti leaves, and then putting them in bundles.  And then we lashed it all on.  And that catapulted me to a hale-builder, master hale-builder.  In fact, when I called Russ Apple—he was still alive, and I said: Russ, how do you become a master builder?  And he’s been tracking, he was tracking me.  He goes: You’re a master.  I go: No way; I gotta build a twenty-by-forty before I proclaim myself a master.  And the first twenty-by-forty I built, my wife and I, in strong wind, started to build it.

 

Where was that?

 

In Hana, at the place where we’re at right now. So, I built my first twenty-by-forty with my wife’s help.

 

And it’s your hale.

 

Yeah.  So, as we were building, the wind was blowing, it was starting to rain.  And we’d build these A-frames, and stand it up like this, and my wife was holding it in the wind.  I go: Don’t you let that thing fall.  Oh … she didn’t.  And we built the hale.

 

Do you marvel when you put those together about, you know, how you do it? I mean, you know, how durable it is.

 

I’m awe every time I build.

 

What are some of the things that impress you about the building?

 

How they can stand up to the weather, and how ingenious and simple, ingenious how those fittings come together.  And I firmly believe—you know, these EZ Corner tents that you see pop up, you know, people put them together?  It’s almost exactly like a hale.  The framing and everything is the frame of a hale.

 

If I were to be there to watch you do the work, what would I be surprised to see? What’s some of the most interesting parts of the job?

 

You will probably be amazed at how many people we can hold on the ‘oloke‘a, which is the scaffolding system.  By the way, you cannot build a hale without.  I mean, many have tried, and I’ve got reports back where they used modern metal scaffolding.  But an ‘oloke‘a, has to conform, or a traditional hale building ‘oloke‘a is actually building a hale, then another hale over it.  Because the scaffolding system has to be commensurate to the size of the hale, and the workers.  So, it’s gotta be kind of like ergonomic; yeah.  So, it’s gotta fit the guys and the people too.

 

So, first, you build the scaffolding.

 

No; first you build the foundation, then you build the scaffolding after the posts is all in to build the roof part.

 

And what do other people use you hale for?

 

Mostly for gathering places, like most of the hale that I build are called hale hālāwai, which means, you know, meeting place. And gathering, and some just for show.

 

Over the last twenty years, Francis “Palani” Sinenci has tirelessly built various types of hale across Hawaiian cultural sites, schools, private residences, Haleakala National Park on Maui, and even on the U.S. mainland, and in China.

 

The title that I have as a kahuna kuhikuhi pu‘uone suggests that I’m an architect.  The word kuhikuhi pu‘uone, breaking down the word kuhikuhi pu‘uone was to show how to build on a pile of sand.  So, now we have architects who use blueprints.  Back in the old days, they used a pile of sand.  Like, if a kahuna is gonna demonstrate how to build a heiau, he would go like this.  He would say: Okay; get the sand, and then stack all the rocks, stack all the wood. And I actually did one, demonstrated how to build a hale on a pile of sand.  So, kuhikuhi means to show or direct, or envision; pu‘u, a pile, a pu‘u; one, sand.  So, someplace I read, over on the Big Island, that became the title for the royal architect, kuhikuhi pu‘uone.  And at one point, somebody said: You’re a kuhikuhi pu‘uone.  I go: I didn’t get that title; somebody else gave me that title, I didn’t put it on myself.  I’ve met more people building hales than people do, except if you’re a concierge.  Of course, you meet a lot of people.

 

I have people from all walks of life that walk away with something.  Either just making a shaka or understanding the Hawaiian culture, or just coming to find out that, hey, I appreciate my job more than building hale.  You know, either positively or negatively, it impacts everybody.

 

Well, you bring people together to build it.

 

Yeah.

 

And then, it becomes a gathering place forever after.

 

I’ve had people get married, met at these hale gatherings.  And then divorced, and came back again.

 

Yeah; halawai, the word for meeting is really a truism.  Hale halawai; you meet, you gather, you eat.  And most of my hales are used for pa‘inas.  Yeah.

 

How many hale have you built now?

 

It’s over three hundred.

 

This takes tremendous energy and strength.  And you’re doing this, and now you’re seventy-six now.

 

Takes a village to build a hale.  Literally.

 

So, are you doing mostly the overseeing now?  Because you’re in your seventies, and you’re doing the main work.

 

Overseeing; I wish that was so yesterday.

 

So, you’re out there doing it.

 

But I mean, keeps the blood flowing, you know, keeps the energy going.

 

In 2018, Francis “Palani” Sinenci was featured in Ka Hale: A Revival,  a short film about his efforts to preserve the traditional practice of hale-building.  The film received a People’s Choice Award in the American Institute of Architects Film Challenge.  Working with his hands and showing no signs of slowing down, Uncle Palani also is rebuilding structures from Hawai‘i’s past.  In addition to restoring a Native Hawaiian fishpond in Hāna, he’s now turning his attention to recreating plantation era Portuguese stone ovens.

 

Mahalo to Francis “Palani” Sinenci of Hāna, Maui.  And thank you for joining us for this edition of Long Story Short on PBS Hawai‘i.  I’m Leslie Wilcox.  Aloha nui.

 

For audio and written transcripts of all episodes of Long Story Short with Leslie Wilcox, visit PBSHawaii.org.  To download free podcasts of Long Story Short with Leslie Wilcox, go to the Apple iTunes Store or visit PBSHawaii.org.

 

So, I devised this shaka.  And you coil it up, you pre-cut all the lashing.  Like if I say: Hey, throw me a number three shaka.

 

And what’s a shaka?

 

This is called a shaka, a coiled piece of rope. Okay; this is how we test to see if you did it right.  So, you’re supposed throw.  Did it come out?  Oh, yeah. See, no knots.

 

No knots.

 

 

 

NĀ MELE: TRADITIONS IN HAWAIIAN SONG
Haunani Apoliona and Kuʻuipo Kumukahi

NĀ MELE: Haunani Apoliona and Kuʻuipo Kumukahi

 

Multiple Hōkū Hanohano Award-winners Haunani Apoliona and Kuʻuipo Kumukahi present classic Hawaiian songs in both solo and duet performances.

 

 

 

What’s it Going to Take?

What’s it Going to Take? is an n ongoing community forum on making life better in Hawaiʻi. Your questions and comments are welcome via phone, email, Twitter or live blogging. You may also email your questions ahead of time to insights@pbshawaii.org.

LONG STORY SHORT WITH LESLIE WILCOX
Noa Emmett Aluli

 

“The health of the land is the health of the people” is a core belief for Dr. Noa Emmett Aluli. The Molokaʻi physician comes from a prominent Hawaiian family of medical doctors, academics, musicians and historical figures. In the 1970s, he made his own mark in history as part of the Kahoʻolawe Nine, a group of activists who stood up against the federal government to defend the island, used for decades in bombing drills. Dr. Aluli admits his personal mission to restore the health of Kahoʻolawe, and the health of Molokaʻi’s people, is a challenging long-term journey.

 

This program will be rebroadcast on Sunday, Nov. 10, at 4:00 pm and 11:30 pm.

 

Noa Emmett Aluli Audio

 

Download the Transcript

 

Transcript

 

The land is the religion, the health of the land is the health of the people, is the health of the nation.

 

Meet this Moloka‘i physician and Kaho‘olawe defender, Dr. Noa Emmett Aluli, next on Long Story Short.

 

Dr. Noa Emmett Aluli has been serving Moloka‘i as a physician for more than four decades. He’s perhaps best known for his work alongside other protestors to protect and restore Kaho‘olawe, where the U.S. Navy carried out bombing drills for 50 years.

 

Dr. Aluli grew up in an extended Hawaiian family in Kailua, on Windward O‘ahu. His family line includes medical doctors; academics; and the Hawaiian patriot, Joseph Nāwahī, who in the 1890s opposed the U.S. government’s annexation of Hawai‘i. Dr. Aluli’s family also includes notable names in Hawaiian music, including his aunt, the late Irmgard Farden Aluli.

 

The Alulis are known for music.  Are you musical?

 

No.  My father would say: Don’t even try to sing, son.  I’m named after my dad, who was named after his dad, and it just goes on.  Musical—and on the other side, the Meyer girls.  You know, Malia was the oldest, and Mele Meyer, and—

 

Manu.

 

—Manu. Those are all my father’s youngest sister’s kids. And so, it was one, two, skip a couple houses, my dad, his brother, then my Auntie Irmgard were there.  But on the other side is my mother with 14 in her family.

 

You were surrounded by people.

 

Yeah, yeah

 

So, all these cousins, and aunties and uncles.

 

And we had to know them personally.  We just kind of really had to stick together and support each other. My grandpa was one of um … I think seventeen people who testified at the very first hearing on statehood in 1935.  There were about 150; Umm, 90 were in favor, 60 uhh, were against.

 

And he was…?

 

He was—he had conditions.  He said for the wellbeing and wellness, and the non-extinction of the Native Hawaiian, he had hoped that we would be recognized, as they had the year before, recognized the Native Americans and set up them as, you know, governments within-

 

-Mhmm.

 

—the government.  So, he—that was what he was thinking.  He was always—he was one of the organizers of the ummm, homesteading act, and he certainly kind of argued for it. We—we have that kinda like DNA or ancestral memory, or responsibility that—that we’ve kinda like grew up with.

 

Okay. So, with that scene set, that’s a lot of people around you, and people before you, and lots of talents.  But definitely, the DNA, as you mentioned, for standing up and standing against what you felt was wrong. 

 

M-hm.

 

So, you have Chinese and Caucasian, but you pulled on the Hawaiian.

 

Right, three-quarters, give or take.  I don’t know exactly, but you know, those days, you never keep track… English.

 

English.

 

Irish … English, Irish.  We have a coat of arm in—on my grandpa’s side, Cockett.  And the other one—

 

That‘s another famous name in Hawai‘i.  So, Aluli, Meyer, Cockett.

 

Yes; fortunate.

 

Did you feel privileged when you were growing up?

 

Didn’t know it, but yeah, we kind of like were able to afford good schools. Umm, never went hungry. Umm, you know, was able to compete in the ocean, was able to fish and—never hunted, though.  But privileged in the sense that we were given lot of opportunities, and had to prove that we would be able to kind of handle things in the years to come.  That was the big test of growing up.

 

 

One of Noa Emmett Aluli’s first major tests was self-imposed— he chose medicine as his career path, for the sheer difficulty of the training. First he earned his undergraduate degree at Marquette University in Wisconsin. Then he returned to O‘ahu and graduated in the first class of the John A. Burns School of Medicine at the University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa.

 

I heard that in your high school yearbook, Saint Louis, you said you intended to be a doctor.

 

Well, I did that because it was the biggest challenge that anybody could ever accept.  And umm, it was kind of like in a sense and I’m gonna do it. But then, it was a challenge all the way through, you know, undergrad, and getting into medical school, and enjoying medical school especially in…It was a lot of work.

 

Did you think you were not gonna make it at any point?

 

Umm, yes, because I couldn’t- I couldn’t discipline myself to study things that I couldn’t really put my hands around.  You know, all the science. And the way we were learning things just by memory, rote, repeat-repeat-repeat.

 

You’re better at learning by doing.

 

Yeah, exactly.  So, after my one year in a rotating integrated umm, residency program, I told the professors that I wanted to go and learn from the community.

 

That’s Hawaiian culture, isn’t it?

 

Yeah.  So—and I chose Moloka‘i, because I was there in my fourth year as a rural health elective. Umm, and I wanted Moloka‘i because they were changing too.  And the professors in that time were studying what happened in Kahuku; was happening in Kohala, where the plantations were closed and the big hotels were gonna be the tourist destinations, and how people were gonna make that change.  And Moloka‘i was going to change that way, too.

 

Also, Moloka‘i is known as the most Hawaiian place. Or the most Hawaiian island, I should say.  Because I think it’s, what … the last data I heard was nearly 40 percent of the population is Hawaiian, and many are more than 50 percent.

 

Yeah.  Well, and it’s actually because it was a leper colony there.

 

Kalaupapa.

 

Yeah, Kalaupapa.  People just were afraid of being there.  And because it was actually the beginning of the homesteading program.  The very first homestead was Kalama‘ula.  And then, Keaukaha was the second one on the Big Island, and then came back to Ho‘olehua.  So, it really had a real strong kinda like presence there. And a small island, so everybody knew everybody else.

 

Was it hard for you to make that transition?  You were kind of a suburban guy.

 

Yeah.  No, it was pretty easy.  Because the way we were brought up too was, you know, you go to a house and you eat anything they serve. And- and I think it was because I was kind of like out there and interested, and people wanted me to stay on Moloka‘i, so they kind of took me in—uncle, auntie, and taught me what they could.  And you know, I think it was—when I look back, they kind of like had hoped that I would usher them to the next realm, taking care of them that long.

 

Moloka‘i would not be the only island drawing Dr. Emmett Aluli’s interest. His medical career was just blossoming when his next major life test presented itself: Kaho‘olawe. On January 4, 1976, Dr. Aluli was one of nine people who protested the U.S. Navy’s use of the island for bombing practice. They defied restrictions and landed on the forbidden “Target Isle.” These nine people came to be known as “the Kaho‘olawe Nine.”

 

I was kind of like on call for three days and I was working at the Queen’s emergency room.  And then, we had 72 hours off.

 

Mhmm.

 

So, I decided this was an opportunity; I wanted to do, I wanted to get away.  And so, I just kind of joined the group that was from Molokaʻi that was asked to come and kind of like see whether we could be part of this reclaiming of at least the fishing rights. Fishing around the island was so rich, and the fishermen, local fishermen wanted to be able to go there and fish.  And they were kind of like unable to get there, except that they snuck on.  So, then we just decided: Well, we’re here, we may as well go and look around a little more.

 

How did you all get together?

 

It was a guy named Charlie Maxwell.

 

From Pukalani, Maui!

 

Yeah, yeah, yeah.  Who was kind of like against what was happening uh, with the umm, telescopes at Haleakala.  But he was the one that was really kind of like organized uhh, and reached out.  And uhh, but nobody knew that this was gonna be a publicity thing; they weren’t really serious.  And so, when we kind of like knew the Coast Guard was called, alerted—

 

And you gathered on—

 

Yeah; there must have been like about 30 boats, more fishing boats.

 

So, Charlie had called; he put out a call for: “Let’s go to that island.”

 

Yeah.

 

Even though they say it’s forbidden.

 

Yeah; yeah.  And let’s make a statement.

 

Let’s make a statement and let’s land there.

 

Yeah.

 

Okay; and did he say you might get arrested, and it’s worth it?

 

No, no. We never got that: “Be careful, you might get arrested.”

 

It was more like: “Let’s just do this.”

 

Do it.

 

Okay.

 

But remember, there was an Alcatraz occupation, there was Wounded Knee, and so you know, people were just kind of thinking: “If this is what we gotta do as Native Hawaiians, let’s do it.” So, there was all that push to do something.

 

So, 30 boats left, but then they turned back.

 

They turned back.  Otherwise, they would have been confiscated.

 

And how did you get through?  Did you say: “I don’t care if the boat’s confiscated?”

 

No; so what it is, it was, once again, a reporter who kind of like knew a boat that was the fastest, that can outdo the—pick us all up, boom, take us in, and then get out.

 

Ah

 

So, that was how we did it.  We went, and the reporters turned back, ‘cause it was the boat that they had been on, but they took nine of us to the island.  And then, the Coast Guard came and took all the other seven.

 

But you and Walter Ritte were exploring the island for two days. Were you making yourself scarce, or were you just really exploring the island?

 

We were just kind of—we were bent on exploring the island.

 

And so, it was okay if you just—

 

Yeah. We just took off.

 

Wow.

 

In slippers.

 

For two days.

 

Yeah.

 

Before they came for you with handcuffs.

 

Actually, they cuffed our ankles. And they gave us a bar letter.  And so …

 

What’s a bar letter?

 

I mean, you can never return; you’re barred from the island.

 

Oh, I see.  Which did not happen; you went back.

 

So, we went back.  Because what we felt and saw was something just really different.  You know, like I personally had to go back and see whether it was real, that the land could be suffering that bad.

 

Noa Emmett Aluli and others kept returning to Kaho‘olawe in protest, despite those military restrictions. Then tragedy: On March 7, 1977, the charismatic musician and activist George Helm was heading back to Maui with park ranger Kimo Mitchell, in bad weather and rough water.  The two were never seen again. Dr. Aluli says that Helm, the fellow member of the Kaho`olawe Nine, had great potential and power as an emerging leader of the Hawaiian people. Dr. Aluli was devastated by the loss of George Helm.

 

I was wanting to just drop out completely.  You know, and just kind of move on.  But something just told me that, you know, you just at least carry his suit, and then you see that you’re successful. And so that’s one of the reasons why I’m still there to make sure that their loss or our loss is something that you know. We kind of like can make a difference and be able to kind of show some successes on the island, and show that we can green the island, and show that their life lost, not lost forever.

 

And did you know the other members of the Kaho‘olawe Nine very well?

 

No, not—not very well; not very well.  But I knew, because they were organizing on different levels, the—more like a legal kind of understanding of our claims and our rights.

 

But it wasn’t—there weren’t nine people picked because of their particular relationship and role. It was just- kind of an ad hoc group?

 

No. It was kind of a mixed bag. Yeah.

 

But what an amazing set of accomplishments was made by a group of people who didn’t even necessarily know each other ahead of time.

 

M-hm; m-hm. Well, so the magic—you know, they call it magic.

 

The magic.

 

Umm, because we knew that the more people we could take to the island, the more they would be inspired to kinda like do work that—

 

And you said you felt a kind of spiritual presence there.

 

I did. And I still do.

 

What does it feel like?

 

It feels as if you’re with nature, so strongly connected to it uh, that you’re kind of like feeling uplifted, or you gotta pass that responsibility, you know, that you kind of like sweat on that, and you understand that land.  But then now, you can get uh, get into the worship of the gods of the land. You know, and that was it, you know.  Pele creating new land, her sister Hi‘iaka the healer, and then there’s the other sister Kapo, and all the nature forms of all her brothers and sisters. You know, that’s all the people of old worshipped and had that connection to.

 

Dr. Emmett Aluli and others in the grassroots organization Protect Kaho‘olawe ‘Ohana, or P-K-O, continued their fight to stop the bombing on the island. In 1980, the U.S. Navy and P-K-O signed a Consent Decree, requiring the Navy to begin cleanup efforts, which are unfinished to this day. Then in 1990, President George H.W. Bush ordered an immediate halt to the bombing. Three years later, Congress voted to end military use, and Kaho‘olawe was turned over to the State. Since then, P-K-O and the Kaho‘olawe Island Reserve Commission, a State agency with which Dr. Aluli worked for more than 20 years, have focused on restoring the island that many regard as sacred.

Dr. Aluli draws parallels between the Kaho‘olawe protests four decades ago and the Mauna Kea protests against construction of the Thirty Meter Telescope on Hawai‘i Island.

 

The land is the religion, the health of the land is the health of the people, is the health of the nation. What it is, is the decision, the Supreme Court decision is, there’s no… “Mauna Kea is already destroyed, so it’s no longer sacred.” They could have used that argument against us. I mean, what, just bomb the s— out of the island; no longer sacred. So, we have to rethink this whole thing through, but you know…

 

Do you think there are a lot of analogies between Kaho‘olawe and TMT?

 

Yeah. It’s the same kind of arguments for Mauna Kea.  And that’s the sad thing.  We’ve kind of like really kind of like got stepped on. I think indigenous folks around the world have their own culture science-

 

Mhmm.

 

—and understanding. And that is respected even more.  It’s just a matter of this next generation kind of coming up and proving it, yeah?  That you can manage the forests, the native forests, like, you know, the Hawaiians of old did, and get as good results as the sciences of today.

 

No longer the Target Island, Kaho‘olawe remains damaged by decades of bombing. There’s a long-term strategic  plan to restore the land, called I Ola Kanaloa, or “Life to Kanaloa.” Kanaloa is the ancient name for Kaho‘olawe, … after the Hawaiian god of healing, voyaging, and the ocean. Elements in the plan are experiential learning for students; and healing programs for abuse survivors and  former prisoners; also, restoration of Kaho‘olawe’s native habitat and cultural sites.

Meanwhile, in his medical practice on Moloka‘i, Dr. Emmett Aluli continues to tackle another challenge: the health of Native Hawaiian people.

 

We still have the only cardiovascular risk factor study. Then putting that together with some of the uhh, economic determinates of health, and you know, the access that poor people don’t have, or uninsured don’t have.  And putting that together, and just really looking at it, and using that as a tool on Moloka‘i: this is where we are. And it’s worked.  And then, from that study, we went into the Native Hawaiian diet study. So, if you eat more taro, sweet potato, reef fish, you know, limu, you should be healthier. You know, how to kind of integrate more, how to kind of like … I guess, extend care more permanently, especially to the Native Hawaiians and how we’re gonna continue together like benefit from the different ali‘i’s kind of like priorities.  Then comes the- A part of that medicine is just trying to finish off some of my research, like creating health systems across the board for Native Hawaiians. That we have Hawaiians that should start looking at the different programs and support that they need, so we can really do a good cleanup and a good kinda future.  ‘Cause the way it looks is, we’re not getting any better.

 

As far as?

 

As our health.

 

As our health; oh …

 

I think more the social and economic determinates of health are increasing, and so … sometimes I look at: How do you change the “ainokea” attitude?

 

To “aikea.”

 

To “aikea.”  You know, the famous—and how do we—can I look at being able to instill that pride again.  You know. That—because I think people are looking at: Oh you was coming- you owe me, you owe me, you owe me for taking the land, for you know, taking the Kingdom, and there’s a lot of pissed-off guys out there. And how do we kind of make them kind of like … ‘Kay, we gotta work a little bit harder, we gotta learn our politics, we gotta bring that leadership back, we gotta bring that trust back.

We will be able to survive, but we just have to depend on our connections to land a little bit more.  We gotta get our strength back, connections to the land, our relationships to the land.  And to make it sincere.  I think that—that’s what we gotta do.  And I’ve seen that happening in different areas.

 

For example?

 

Oh; in some of the fishponds, He‘eia and umm, you know, I see it kind of like umm, flowering in some of the farming projects.  You know, especially in Molokaʻi and the Big Island.

 

Because you think the health of the land is reflect … that’s a determinant of the health of the people.

 

People; right.  Right.  And then, how we work all together as a nation, or as a community, or as a ahupua‘a.  That we just, you know, automatic.

 

But in these decades since Kaho‘olawe, you say, you know, the health of the people has not improved.

 

Well, I don’t see it, because there’s something else that’s interfering.  I think it’s just “ainokea” attitude that’s… we’re addressing suicide also. Umm, on Moloka‘i, we’ve had a string of suicides. Depression setting in.  You know? And we’ve gotta talk this through a little bit more.  We gotta focus on that.

 

Yeah.  I mean, I think you’re a person who’s in it for the long term.  I mean, you hung in there with Kaho‘olawe, and you’re still in there.  And you’ve worked really hard on Hawaiian health.  But you haven’t really gotten to see the fruition of your hopes, all your hopes.

 

I feel like … it’ll come.  I feel it’ll really come.  I mean, I’m seeing it develop umm, in some key people. You know, we’ve had couple of young guys come in and, you know, and get credits working in my clinic, and I just—they’re teaching me more than I’m teaching them. My patients ask me: When are you gonna retire, Doc?  I said: When I don’t enjoy it anymore.

 

Do you still feel like that activist inside?

 

Umm, yeah; yeah.  And like, folks like Art says: We gotta watch you, Emmett.

 

And that competitiveness that you had when you said: I’m gonna be a doctor, just because it was a hard thing to do. 

 

No, that was—that was just … I think that pushed me through, because I said: I’m gonna do it.  Like it’s pushed me through with Kaho’olawe, I’m gonna do it. With the other issues I’ve been involved in, I’m gonna do it.  And you know, I don’t expect to be able to do it all, but at least some footprints.

 

And some continuity,-

 

-Yeah.

 

you’ll leave behind, people who can do it, or who will carry it on.

 

Who will carry it on.

 

You seem like you’re prepared for the long view.  You know, things can’t get done as quickly as you want, but you’re gonna keep at it.

 

Yeah.  And people know that.  People know that.  Stay out of his way.

 

Longterm challenges and the never-ending desire to heal the land and the people—these seem to define Dr. Emmett Aluli’s life journey. As of this conversation in the summer of 2019, Dr. Aluli is 75 years old, and he says he has no plans to stop working to heal people and the land anytime soon. He says he’s most thankful for his family, his medical practice, and his good health. Mahalo to Dr. Noa Emmett Aluli of Ho‘olehua, Moloka‘i, for sharing your story with us. And mahalo to you for joining us. For PBS Hawai‘i and Long Story Short, I’m Leslie Wilcox. Aloha nui.

 

 

What do you think the people of Molokaʻi can teach the rest of us?

 

“Molokaʻi, the friendly island” is because we adapted or adjusted to the leprosy.

 

Mhmm.

 

And it was okay to go there, and they’re family. And then, there’s—what I like is: “Molokaʻi ku‘i la‘au.” You know, strong, powerful healing. But the one that is being really shared is: “Molokaʻi ‘āina momona.”

 

Plenty.

 

Plenty fruits. And I think a lot of people are adopting that we gotta make our lands rich with food again.

 

 

 

INSIGHTS ON PBS HAWAIʻI
What’s it Going to Take? – Low Wages and the Lack of Affordability in Hawaiʻi

 

INSIGHTS ON PBS HAWAIʻI is taking a deeper dive into longstanding problems highlighted during our two-hour live program, What’s it Going to Take? An executive forum on making life better in Hawaiʻi.

 

· 51% of renting households in Hawai’i spend more than 30% of their income on rent. · 38% of jobs pay a living wage, which equates to more than $20/hour. · 48% of households do not meet the Survival Budget level and struggle to afford living in Hawaiʻi (Source: Hawaiʻi Community Foundation)

 

Click the link to learn more about the Change Framework: ChangeforHawaii.org

 

The first of three special editions of INSIGHTS will focus on Low Wages and the Lack of Affordability in Hawaiʻi. Those scheduled to appear on the program include: the band director of Chiefess Kamakahelei Middle School in Līhuʻe, Kauaʻi; the owner of a small business in Mānoa, Oʻahu; a warehouse worker from Pālolo, Oʻahu; and a University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa economist. You can join the conversation by phoning in, or by leaving us a comment on Facebook or Twitter. INSIGHTS is also streamed live on pbshawaii.org and PBS Hawaiʻi’s Facebook page.

 

Phone Lines:
462-5000 on Oahu or 800-238-4847 on the Neighbor Islands.

 

Email:
insights@pbshawaii.org

 

Facebook:
Visit the PBS Hawai‘i Facebook page.

 

Twitter:
Join our live discussion using #pbsinsights

 

 

 

What’s it Going to Take?
An executive forum on making life better in Hawaiʻi

What's it Going to Take? - An executive forum on making life better in Hawaiʻi


Click the video above to watch What’s it Going to Take? on demand. Join host Leslie Wilcox for a live 2-hour conversation with top Hawaiʻi executives who bring detailed information and influence to help address deep-seated community problems. These executives are using detailed data* commissioned by the Hawaiʻi Community Foundation and combining their problem-solving experiences and influence to engage other sectors in a collaborative resolve to make life in Hawaiʻi better.

 

(Original airdate: Thursday, October 24, 2019)

 

Encore broadcasts of this program will air:
Sunday, October 27, 1 pm – 3 pm
Saturday, November 2, 8 pm – 10 pm

 

Hawaiʻi executives appearing on the program:

• Duane Kurisu, aio Founder, Hawaiʻi Executive Conference Chairman
• Catherine Ngo, President and CEO, Central Pacific Bank
• Bob Harrison, Chairman and CEO, First Hawaiian Bank
• Rich Wacker, President and CEO, American Savings Bank
• Micah Kāne, CEO and President, Hawaiʻi Community Foundation
• Colbert Matsumoto, Chairman, Tradewind Capital Group
• Jack Wong, CEO, Kamehameha Schools
• Elliot Mills, Vice President and General Manager, Aulani, Disney Resort and Spa
• Robert Nobriga, President, Island Holdings
• Ann Botticelli, Senior Vice President Communications and Public Affairs, Hawaiian Airlines

 

Click the link to learn more about the Change Framework: ChangeforHawaii.org

 

What's it Going to Take statistics: • Almost half of Hawaiʻi residents are barely making ends meet. • 6 out of 10 jobs pay less than a living wage. • 3 out of 4 people earning low wages still need housing. Source: Hawaiʻi Community Foundation

 

 

 

HIKI NŌ 10|31|19:
Kauaʻi Resilience Project and Other Stories

 

TOP STORY

 

“Kauaʻi Resilience Project”
Students from Kapaʻa High School on Kauaʻi tell the story of their community’s effort to address a serious problem with Kauaʻi’s youth. A 2018 study showed that 9% of high school students on Kauaʻi attempt suicide, and 28% reported feeling sad and worthless over extended periods of time. In response to these alarming facts, the Kauaʻi Resiliency Project was formed to create programs and opportunities for Kauaʻi’s youth that help them navigate life’s challenges.

 

ALSO FEATURED

 

“Taiko for the Deaf”
In their HIKI NŌ debut, students from Hawaiʻi Baptist Academy in the Nuʻuanu district of Oʻahu tell the story of a taiko drumming class for the deaf held by the Taiko Center of the Pacific. The deaf students learn to drum through visual cues such as watching the person in front of them and through instructions from a sign language interpreter. Although they cannot hear the drums, they can feel the vibration of the drum beats through their bodies. They don’t consider their deafness as a limitation to taiko drumming and, as a result, their confidence and self-esteem are lifted through this activity.

 

“Martin Charlot”
Students from Konawaena High School on Hawaiʻi Island follow veteran painter Martin Charlot (son of legendary artist Jean Charlot) as he restores a mural he created 46 years ago for what is now called the Ellison Onizuka Gymnasium at Konawaena High School.

 

“Fire Knife Dancer”
Students from Kealakehe Intermediate School on Hawaiʻi Island tell the story of a fire knife dancer who is passing along this traditional Samoan art form to the next generation.

 

“Hawaiʻi Nature Center”
Students from McKinley High School on Oʻahu tell the story of a special place in Honolulu that connects family and children to nature: the Hawaiʻi Nature Center.

 

“Street Art Hawaiʻi”
Students from Sacred Hearts Academy on Oʻahu tell the story of a team of local artists who are beautifying the Kaimukī neighborhood of Honolulu with their colorful street paintings.

 

This episode of HIKI NŌ also features a behind-the-scenes look at the 2019 HIKI NŌ Statewide Teachers Workshop.

 

 

 

Lopaka Kapanui
Hawaiʻi’s “Chicken Skin” Storyteller

Cover story by Liberty Peralta, PBS Hawaiʻi

 

Lopaka Kapanui, Hawaiʻi's "Chicken Skin" Storyteller

Years ago, Lopaka Kapanui’s mother told him something he says he was “too young and arrogant” to understand.

 

“A lot of work that we do is not about us,” he says his mom told him. “And if we think it’s based on us, we’re fooling ourselves. It’s about helping other people.”

 

Telling ghost stories may be an unusual way of serving one’s community, but it’s this motivation that drives Kapanui in his work as a storyteller of legends, a mantle he’s taken up since the 2003 passing of his mentor, celebrated Oʻahu “chicken skin” storyteller, Glen Grant.

 

LONG STORY SHORT WITH LESLIE WILCOX: Lopaka Kapanui airs Tuesday, October 29 at 7:30 pm“My job is not just to tell ghost stories and scare people, but also to clear up that misunderstanding of what this is all about, which is really communication,” Kapanui says.

 

Kapanui’s life began in the Honolulu neighborhood of Kalihi, as a malnourished infant living in a station wagon with his mother and four older siblings.

 

“They said I was about the size of a rolled-up newspaper,” Kapanui says.

A family from Waiʻanae adopted the young Kapanui, who continued to battle health issues through his early childhood, to the point where he was hospitalized to flush out his kidneys.

 

My job is not just to tell ghost stories and scare people, but also to clear up that misunderstanding of what this is all about, which is really communication. 

Lopaka Kapanui

 

“I’m a Buddhist, so we believe in karma,” Kapanui says. “I think that somewhere in my past life, I was someone who caused somebody a great deal of suffering and so maybe it was my karma early in my life to go through this.”

 

Kapanui says his childhood home in Waiʻanae was haunted. His first visual experience was when he saw a Japanese boy approach a stand-up oil lamp in the family’s living room and begin licking the oil from it. A Japanese odaisan, or spiritual medium, later advised the family to get rid of the lamp.

 

Kapanui’s lifelong sensitivity to spirits culminated in 1994, when a coworker told him about a Glen Grant ghost tour. “I’m astounded, I’m flabbergasted because the majority of what he was talking about are things I already knew growing up and learned from my mom,” Kapanui says. “But the difference was there was documentation, history and things to back up these claims, so that no one could say, ‘Well, that’s just made-up Hawaiian legends, old wives’ tales.’”

 

So how does Kapanui manage people on his tours who say they don’t believe in the supernatural? “What I always tell them is: Give me a chance to change your mind,” he says. “You don’t have to like it; I would encourage that you at least respect it.”

 


 

PORK ON THE PALI

 

Nuʻuanu Pali It’s a familiar local admonition: don’t bring pork over the Nuʻuanu Pali, the cliff that separates Honolulu and Windward Oʻahu. Lopaka Kapanui breaks down the story behind the story:

 

Legend has it that Pele, the fire goddess, and Kamapuaʻa, the pig demigod, were in a tumultuous relationship. In her rage, Pele unleashed a tidal wave of lava upon Kamapua‘a. After the demigod successfully summoned the rain to hold back the lava, Kamapua‘a and Pele came to an agreement: the lush Windward side of all islands would be Kamapuaʻa’s domain, while the arid Kona sides would belong to Pele. “None shall cross into the other’s territory,” Kapanui explains.

 

So carrying pork from the Windward to the Leeward side of the Nuʻuanu Pali would be symbolically trying to bring Kamapua‘a into Pele’s territory – and Pele won’t have that. “To be more specific, you can bring pork through the H-3, the Wilson and Pali tunnels, but you can’t bring it up that road at the Pali Lookout, that’s coming from the Windward [side] … there’s a road at the Pali Lookout that crosses that meridian.”

 

 

 

 

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