Kaho`olawe, Hawai`ian IslandsOkay, so Hawaii is one of the 50 United States, and one could make a strong case for including it under North America. Certainly the travel-themed social networking site GeckoGo does, as does Joel Garreau, author of The Nine Nations of North America. Garreau, however, finds that it does not fit into any of his Nine Nations, and places it instead in his chapter on "anomalies." On the other hand, ethnographers treat the indiginous cultures and arts of Hawaii as part of the broader Oceanic tradition, relating them to the peoples of other Polynesian groups. |
Kaho`olawe fits well into this ambiguity -- for most of its recent history, it was the exclusive domain of the U.S. Navy, a practice range for bomber aircraft; but now that the Navy has returned it to the State, its principal stewards are of Native Hawaiian heritage. Their vision for it is more Polynesian than North American, and includes restoring its old sacred sites dating to before any American set foot here. Therefore, I have opted to include it in the Oceania section of my travel guide.
As far as I know, there is only one way to get here legally: join the Protect Kahoolawe `Ohana on one of their working parties. They do this eleven times a year, once every month except for December. You have to commit to all four days, and attend an orientation meeting one week before. You also need to be able to swim, since the boat cannot actually reach the shore -- all the baggage and supplies are packed in heavy-duty garbage bags, and participants form a sort of bucket brigade from the shore to the boat, floating the bags out, then swimming to the boat. The same thing is done in reverse at the other end. The landing place is called Haki`oawa, and it is the only part of the island where it is safe to roam; everywhere else still has leftover unexploded ordnance (UXO) left over from Naval bombardments. I would be remiss if I failed to mention a slight political undertone. There is still a certain amount of bitterness among traditional Hawaiians over the 1893 overthrow of Queen Liliuokalani by a small cadre of Americans. They consider statehood to be an illegitimate colonization. To refer to this sentiment merely as "secessionist" is to fail to understand the depth of traditional Hawaiians' attachment to their land and ancestors. Sacred sites are scattered all across the Islands, most of them associated with some significant story. To non-Hawaiian eyes, these sacred sites look like any other pile of rocks, so needless to say, they have not recieved proper respect since the U.S. annexation and statehood. Add to this that the island of Kaho`olawe itself was considered to be a physical embodiment of the god Kanaloa (the same as Tangaroa of other Polynesian groups), and it is easy to understand why the years of bombing and strafing were so resented. One of the leaders of our group was a man named Maka, who styled himself a "radical Hawaiian taro-ist." As this was shortly after the U.S. invasion of Iraq, Maka referred to the UXO lying around the island as "the hidden weapons of mass destruction."
|
Every access to Kaho`olawe is associated with either some project, or the yearly cycle of ceremonials. This was not a ceremonial access; but even so, before beginning the work project, we were to perform the kapu kai. Kapu has come to mean "taboo" or "forbidden" today, but it also carries the meaning of "sacred" -- the two concepts were closely intertwined in Old Hawaii. Kai means ocean, sea, or any body of saltwater. Kapu kai therefore may be translated as sacred sea. The ritual consists of rising before dawn and going to the sea, naked, to commune with its essential power. Each person does this in his or her own way, but the point is to emerge with body clean and spirit ready to approach a momentous task with proper attitude. |
But after work comes fun. The building of the imu -- that is, the underground oven -- took a good part of an afternoon. A big pit is dug in the sand, lined with hot coals, then ki leaves, and the pig and other courses of the feast put in to roast, covered over with more ki leaves, more coals, and more sand. One of the Hawaiian women present told her son to stick close to Maka, who was overseeing the imu; the boy was already learning modern ways in school, and she wanted him to grow up learning the old ways also. Maka appears in the cammie hat in this picture, as the imu is opened up after the roasting is complete.Well! If we're going to go to all the trouble of digging an imu, we might as well make it a festive atmosphere. After the food had disappeared and night was falling, several of the men brought out their guitars and began playing whatever songs they knew; likewise, several of the women, who were involved in the hula schools, began doing their hula. When the music died down, out came the kava root, squeezed in a wet cloth to extract the juice. The kava drink flowed freely, its mildly narcotic effect bringing on the reflective mood. I don't know if it was exactly a luau -- certainly not like the commercial luau productions of the hotels -- but certainly it was a local kine goodtime. I stayed near Maka, as the kava was loosening his tongue, and I wanted to hear more about the Hawaiian sovereignty movement. I had one question in particular: what place would there be for haole, that is, non-Hawaiians, in a sovereign Hawaii? Unfortunately, I never got an answer, because I chose my words poorly; instead, my ill-considered phrasing brought on a speech about the illegitimacy of the American occupation of a Hawaii that already has an inherent sovereignty. Still, it is hard to stay agitated long under the influence of kava, and so Maka's anger faded as suddenly as it had come on. The kava certainly had its intended effect on me; there was no sign of my insomnia that night, and I even slept later than usual in the morning.
|
The highest peak on Kaho`olawe is Moa Ula. We spent one whole day in a hike to the summit, stopping along the way to see an ancient adze quarry, where flakes of obsidian still lay atop the now badly-eroded soil. On Moa Ula, large areas remain contaminated with UXO; along some stretches, the trail is marked by the line of orange stakes reading "WARNING: Limit of UXO clearance." You do not want to go off the beaten path here. In this area were expanses of completely barren ground, with patches of unusual colors -- shades of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple. The Hawaiians maintain that these colors were caused by the bombardments, some kind of chemical in the bombs interacting with the soil. I do not know enough about it to have an opinion one way or the other; but I do know that the topsoil appeared thoroughly obliterated, and it would be a long time before any vegetation would again grow here.
  At the summit of Moa Ula is the old volcanic crater named Lua Makiki, inside of which is a rain ko`a. This merits explanation. A ko`a has no exact parallel in Western understandings of religion; perhaps the nearest parallel -- although still not a very good one -- would be a site like Lourdes or Fatima, where the faithful believe there is a particular nexus of spiritual power. A ko`a, however, is not a destination for pilgrims or a place where miracles occur. Rather, the intent is to focus spiritual energies, called mana in Hawaiian, in order to draw in an important resource. Most ko`a are fishing ko`a, built on bluffs overlooking the ocean, intended to draw in fish for the fishermen. 
In this case, the ko`a at Lua Makiki is intended to bring in rainclouds from Maui. Indeed, looking northward, we could clearly see the high peak of Haleakala on Maui, crowned with rainclouds. Before our eyes, we could see a line of these clouds advancing -- with clear blue sky on both sides -- from the Haleakala summit toward us. As we descended the mountain, the clouds slowly drew nearer, until the rain beagan just as we were arriving back at Hakioawa. The amazing thing was, there was still clear blue sky to both sides, as though the clouds had formed a straight line from Maui to Kaho`olawe.The rain continued into the night, bringing flash floods that turned dry gulches into raging torrents. It was feared that the downpour might wash UXO out of the hills, so the pu was blown to rally everyone at the agreed-upon point, and ensure everyone stayed in sight and was known to be safe. Author Robert Young Pelton should be better known among travellers. His book, The World's Most Dangerous Places, in its various editions, and its companion website, while admittedly written in a sensationalist style, are valuable for those who travel in the riskier parts of the world, and also the less dangerous places that have the usual risks of life. He also sells "Dangerous Places" t-shirts. I thought about ordering one; but only a poseur would wear a "Dangerous Places" t-shirt without actually having been to a Dangerous Place. Kaho`olawe did not make it into his book, probably because there are no wars or cartels here; but still, given the necessity of swimming in ocean swell to get here, and the need for constant vigilance for UXO, I think perhaps it should have. I doubt if most tourists on the developed Hawaiian Islands are aware that one of the world's Dangerous Places is so close by. But the Protect Kaho`olawe `Ohana have more bragging rights than I do; I only went to Kaho`olawe once, whereas they go over and over again. I often hear soldiers in interviews reject the idea that their deeds in battle were brave or courageous, since they were only acting on their training and doing what needed to be done. But that is courage; everything else is bravado. And so these Hawaiian folk trying to heal their scarred island are, in my opinion, some of the most courageous people I have ever had the privilege of meeting.
|
Even in Hakioawa, we still had to be careful. UXO could potentially wash ashore or out of the hills into the cleared area, so we were instructed not to touch anything we cannot identify. This led to some confusion, as a few participants assumed everything on the beach was UXO; one saw a ball on the shore, and was indignant that the military would make an explosive that looked like a ball. I doubt the ball was UXO; all sorts of things wash up on beaches. Still, I was not about to mess with it, because I did not know for sure.