THIS IS WHY WE DO WHAT WE DO
The following is an unabridged version of the article entitled “My Travels With A Hula Legend” that was written by Mr. Nathan Nāpōkā and published in Wailea Magazine Spring/Summer 2016.
OVERVIEW
Traditional hula traces its beginnings to Hawai‘i’s mythic past. Many traditions say that the gods were the first hula performers. These gods provided the inspiration for mankind who in turn created an earthly tradition of dance. In pre western times hula followed a strict religious protocol. Practitioners worshipped at an altar with elaborate rituals. They venerated the deity of the hula, Laka, who could be both male and female in nature. Chiefs usually kept their own circle of chanters and dancers whose job it was to honor the gods and in turn celebrate their chiefly patrons.
Today’s hula students can choose to learn a wide variety of hula types. Modern dances performed with music and vocals are often called “‘auana”. The more classical dances are called “kahiko” which literally means old or ancient. These kahiko dances are often accompanied by a gourd or sharkskin drum. All forms of hula, old or new, are performed with words either sung or chanted. Hula does not exist without a poetic text. So the dancer is actually an extension of the poetry, embellishing those words with the visual impact of interpretive movement.
Over the past forty years there has been a worldwide explosion of interest in hula. Most people are content with sitting back and watching, while others cultivate a deeper interest in hula by becoming students of the dance. These students usually join a hālau, or hula school. These schools are sprouting up all over the world. In Japan alone, according to a recent estimate, there are 400,000 students of the hula.
KEAHI-THE FIRE
Shortly after the arrival of Christian missionaries in 1819, hula was denounced as an evil remnant of Hawai‘i’s pagan past. With the conversion of a majority of Hawaiians to Christianity, hula went into decline. During the reign of King Kalākaua (1874-1891) hula performances were once again encouraged and hula experienced a comeback. Kalākaua’s wife, Queen Kapi‘olani travelled throughout the Kingdom encouraging her people to propagate a healthy generation of Hawaiians. On a trip to Kaua‘i in 1885, Queen Kapi‘olani saw a promising young dancer and Kapi‘olani recommended that this girl, Keahi-nuiokaluaoPele (The Great Fire in the Pit of Pele), be brought to Honolulu to live with her older sister, Kaleihulumamo, who had already settled there earning a name for herself as an accomplished dancer. Keahi moved to Honolulu at the age of eight and throughout her youth she travelled between Kaua‘i and O‘ahu learning from the greatest hula teachers of her time. She eventually married and settled in Honolulu, where she taught traditional hula and chant. As the twentieth century unfolded, she emerged as one of the most respected Hawaiian cultural authorities of the time.
‘IOLANI LUAHINE
As Keahi aged she realized that it was important for her to pass on her priceless knowledge of the hula to the next generation. She looked within her family for a pupil that she could train. Knowing that her nephew Manase and his wife Besse just had a child on January 31, 1915, she asked them if she could have this newly born daughter, Harriet Lanihau Makekau. After giving the proposal some thought Manase announced that Harriet would go to his Aunt Keahi to be trained in the traditional hula, his family’s legacy. At three months old Harriet was taken from Napo‘opo‘o, Hawai‘i Island to Honolulu where she was given in Hawaiian fashion to her grandaunt, Keahi, who became her hānai mother from that day forth.
When Harriet arrived in Honolulu, Keahi noticed that the baby’s eyes were filled with mucous. No matter how much they wiped and cleaned the problem persisted. Keahi was worried and she summoned a kahuna to her home. The priestess sat and observed the baby and then asked for her name. When they told her that her name was Harriet Lanihau, the kahuna paused briefly then said, “That name is not right. She should be called ‘Iolani Luahine.” From that moment, her name was changed and her mucous filled eyes gradually cleared. She was now ‘Iolani, the soaring hawk of the heavens.
‘IOLANI’S CHILDHOOD
‘Iolani was exposed to hula from infancy but did not start formal training with Keahi until the age of four. She was taught all aspects of the dance. Her training was nonstop. Sometimes Keahi would invite a hula teacher to the house to spend time with ‘Iolani, exposing her to their style of hula. Keahi wanted her to experience the best teachers of the time in the same manner as Keahi was trained thirty five years earlier. When she was old enough to attend school, ‘Iolani was enrolled at St Andrew’s Priory. She attended school during the weekdays and most of her other time was spent with Keahi. Keahi filled ‘Iolani with her knowledge of traditional hula. ‘Iolani was a bright and free spirited child. Even at a young age she was extremely charismatic and anyone who saw her dance knew that she was destined for greatness.
THE LEGEND EMERGES
After graduating from high school, ‘Iolani worked at various jobs. She eventually ended up at the University of Hawai‘i where she studied to become a social worker. While at the University her life was forever changed when in 1937 her beloved hānai, Keahi, passed away. ‘Iolani was devastated. She was only 22. She left school and worked as a telephone operator during the day and she started dancing in Waikīkī at night. She loved entertaining and enjoyed performing. She was extremely successful. Wherever she performed people flocked to see her. She developed quite a following. There was something very unique about her style of dancing almost as if all of her ancestors including Keahi were supporting her on stage.
As much as ‘Iolani loved the excitement of Waikīkī she always felt the need to pass on her knowledge of the traditional hula to the next generation. In 1947, she opened a hula school. By this time her eldest sister’s daughter, Helen Hoakalei Messer, was living with her and Hoakalei helped with the running of the hālau. ‘Iolani was especially happy to have a niece that she could train in hula.
In the early 1950’s, ‘Io fell in love with a Honolulu artist, John MacMahon. They got married and moved to ‘Iolani’s birthplace, Napo‘opo‘o on Hawai‘i Island. The marriage was short lived. ‘Iolani realized that she missed dancing, her real passion in life. She also became aware that hula was also an important source of income. Her birth mother, Besse, later explained to her that because of her sacred dedication to hula, she was kapu and should not have considered marriage. ‘Iolani returned to Honolulu alone and continued dancing. In 1961 she moved to the Royal Mausoleum in Nu‘uanu, where she worked as curator for the next four years.
By this time the world had taken notice of ‘Iolani. The great American modern dancer, Ted Shawn, saw ‘Iolani perform on one of his visits to Hawai‘i. He said: “She is an artist of world stature. Her knowledge of the old and almost lost repertory of the Hawaiian dance is probably unmatched; her technical ability to perform and project these dances is of the highest order.” She was invited to perform three times at the National Folk Festival in Washington D.C.. The State of Hawai‘i presented her with the Order of Distinction for her contribution in the arts. She was now recognized as one of Hawai‘i’s greatest treasures.
RETURN TO HAWAI‘I ISLAND
In the mid 1960’s ‘Iolani decided to move back to her birthplace in Napo‘opo‘o, Hawai‘i Island. She worked as curator for Hulihe‘e Palace in Kailua Kona and spent her time living between a cottage on the Palace grounds and her family home in Napo‘opo‘o. Her dream was to eventually have a school in Napo‘opo‘o where she could teach traditional hula and chant. Like Queen Kapi‘olani’s support for her hānai, Keahi, many years earlier, ‘Iolani also drew the attention of a royal patron, Princess Abigail Kekaulike Kawānanakoa, the great grandniece of Queen Kapi‘olani, who supported ‘Iolani by building her a new facility in Napo‘opo‘o, where ‘Iolani could open a traditional hula school.
As she approached 60, ‘Io realized that the hula was going through significant changes. For the sake of continuity, she wanted the next generation to see the traditional dances as she learned them. Soon a plan was devised by Alfred Preis, who was the executive director for the State Foundation for Culture and the Arts. Preis believed in ‘Iolani’s artistic genius and wanted to do all within his power to support her desires as an artist. Preis was responsible for establishing a program with the State Department of Education called the Artist in the Schools Program. It was through this program that Preis found a way for ‘Iolani to fulfill her dream of sharing her legacy with the next generation of Hawai‘i’s school children.
ARTIST IN THE SCHOOLS
‘Io’s niece, Hoakalei called me in 1975 and asked if I was interested in travelling with her and her Aunt ‘Iolani , across Hawai‘i presenting a program of traditional hulas to the next generation. Aunty Hoakalei was my teacher and I was teaching her male hula classes at that time. I found out later that it was ‘Iolani who asked Hoakalei to approach me. They needed a narrator, male dancer and a person who could handle the logistics of the tour. I met Aunty ‘Iolani a few years earlier but this would be my first opportunity to spend time with her. I said “Of course” and shortly thereafter Hoakalei and I flew to Kona to work on the program with ‘Iolani.
Aunty ‘Io was 60, at the time, but she danced with the agility and strength of someone years younger. At the end of a week of rehearsals my legs were trembling with exhaustion. ‘Io asked me how I was doing. She could see that I was tired. I said alright and she said “Good, because you have only begun to learn these dances…we have a long way to go.”
When in Kona, I slept on the pūne’e on Aunty ‘Io’s porch at Hulihe‘e Palace while she and Hoakalei shared her bed inside the cottage. On the last day of rehearsals everyone retired very early after a poi supper. Somewhere in the dead of the night, ‘Io started chanting next to me on the porch. Aunty Hoakalei came out of the house and sat beside me on the pūne’e. We were told that we were going to see Tutu Pele. No questions asked, I grabbed my blanket and jumped in the backseat of the car while Hoakalei got the car keys and with Aunty ‘Io as co-pilot we made the long journey to Halema‘uma‘u Crater. Upon arriving at the crater we locked the car and followed the path to the crater rim. All was still. Aunty ‘Io made an offering to Pele and as she chanted her prayer, a massive fountain of lava gushed up from the floor of Halema’uma’u. I was scared. We were so close to the edge and I didn’t want anyone to get hurt. Aunty ‘Io started dancing and Hoakalei supported her with a chant. With Tutu’s acceptance of our offering the path was clear for our work to begin.
HAWAI‘I’S KEIKI
I heard a loud ”Hui…Nāpōkā”. It was Aunty ‘Io on the other side of the chain link fence that separated my dilapidated plantation cottage from the Bank of Hawai‘i parking lot. I grabbed my bags and paddle and climbed the step ladder over the fence and landed at the back of Hoakalei’s station wagon. We loaded up and were on our way to our first school program. Aunty ‘Io was dressed in a tan London Fog trench coat with a purple felt hat. She ran through a quick checklist with us as I settled into the car. No matter how set our program was, we all knew that the lineup could change in a minute, depending on Aunty ‘Io’s spirit.
All three of us were visually challenged to some extent so when the final moment came to start the program and we removed our glasses we had to be ready to go with the flow. Many times we were expecting a certain hula and ‘Io would call out a completely different dance that I would have to give an introduction for and Hoakalei would have to be ready to chant. That was ‘Io. You had to always be prepared for the unexpected. She especially loved dancing for the elementary children and they adored ‘Iolani. We were warned that their attention spans would be short but this was never a problem when ‘Iolani danced.
TRAVELLING WITH ‘IOLANI
For the next two years we visited all the islands except for Ni‘ihau and Kaho‘olawe. We usually did an evening concert at some point so that the community at large could see ‘Iolani. Aunty ‘Io always had me checking on ticket prices. She wanted to be sure that our kama’āina could afford to come. Prices were always reasonable.
On Maui we performed at the school in Ke‘anae and Hāna and while in Hāna we planned a concert for the community at Helene Hall down at the Harbor. We were staying at the teacher’s cottages at the old high school and we made sure to mix the poi and prepare a meal before leaving for the hall. Hāna did not have restaurants that would be open in the late evening.
So many elderly Hawaiian faces filled the hall that evening, overflowing onto the lānai. They wouldn’t let ‘Io leave the stage. She was in her element. As one of her hana hou encores she unscrewed the long push mop handles backstage and throwing one to me we did a battle spear dance for Ka‘uiki Hill which rose just outside the stage door. She changed from a nimble cat like persona to a fierce warrior in a matter of seconds. She made it a point to tell me not to baby her in the dance. At the end of the dance my knuckles were bleeding and she brought the audience to their feet. Over a bowl of poi later in the evening, she explained that there was a point in time when very few men were interested in dancing. During that time some women carried some of the male dances to the next generation. She said, “When you have to be a man you just let it happen.”
Midway through the tour, ‘Iolani suffered some serious medical setbacks. We paused and waited for her to recover from a surgery that temporarily hampered the movement on one side of her body. She was determined to gain her full motion back and using her hula implements. She danced until she completely regained control of her limbs.
We spent time on Lāna‘i and then moved on to Moloka‘i where ‘Iolani’s sister, Dorothy Kahinu lived on Hawaiian Homestead land at Ho‘olehua. Before leaving the island we took all our leis to Kanakaloloa Cemetery near her sister’s home where ‘Iolani’s parents were buried. I stayed near the car while ‘Iolani and Hoakalei had a tearful graveside visit.
‘Iolani’s health was unstable but she was determined to finish what she had started and over the next year we travelled to O‘ahu and Hawai‘i Island. We ended our tour on Kaua‘i. After making all of our appearances at the schools, we did an evening concert and planned to return to O‘ahu the next day. Early the next morning ‘Iolani wanted to go to Hā’ena to visit the hula heiau at Kē‘ē. We made a call to her friend, Imua, and set out for Hā’ena. We stopped in Hanalei for Imua and an offering, then made our way to the end of the road. It was a windy stormy day and a high surf was wildly pounding at the reef in Hā’ena. We were all fully dressed to get on the airplane and Aunty ‘Io motioned for me to get our seaweed leis from the car. She went down to the small inlet and started chanting. The booming north shore waves suddenly went still and we traced our steps along the reef, out into the ocean.
She gently laid our leis on the surface of the ocean and explained once again that the reason we used limu kala was because kala meant to forgive in Hawaiian. Wearing this lei meant that all was forgiven and thus at peace so that the creativity that was hula could occur. We turned back to the shore and as we reached the sand, the ocean waves rumbled in taking the lei offerings out into the depths. We started the climb to the heiau at Kē‘ē and it quickly became clear why she called Imua. His six foot muscular build came in handy when ‘Io could no longer climb. Halfway up, Imua cradled her in his arms and made the rest of the trek carrying ‘Iolani who was chanting all along the way. She called to the stone guardians along the path, announcing our arrival. At the top, Imua gently placed ‘Io on the grassy platform and she thanked him with a kiss. ‘Io brought out her offering and poured a small amount in a cup for each of us to drink. She then flicked the rest of the offering into the air and onto the altar so that the essence went to the gods. She explained why we were there and acknowledged the next generations that were with her. Tears streamed down her face as she said goodbye for what she knew was her last time. She danced one last dance and turned to the trail and made a slow retreat to the car. ‘Iolani died later that year on December 10, 1978 leaving her rich legacy of dance for all.
