I Kahiki Ke Ola: in Kahiki There Is Life Ancestral Memories and Migrations in the New Pacific
Total Page:16
File Type:pdf, Size:1020Kb
CORE Metadata, citation and similar papers at core.ac.uk Provided by ResearchArchive at Victoria University of Wellington I KAHIKI KE OLA: IN KAHIKI THERE IS LIFE ANCESTRAL MEMORIES AND MIGRATIONS IN THE NEW PACIFIC BY EMALANI MAILEKALUHEA KANEKAPOLEI CASE A thesis Submitted to the Victoria University of Wellington in fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy Victoria University of Wellington (2015) Copyright © 2015 by Emalani M. K. Case All rights reserved ii TABLE OF CONTENTS Acknowledgements iv Abstract vi Introduction: 1 Aia ke ola i Kahiki: Life is in Kahiki Chapter 1: 33 He Kanaka Hawaiʻi, He Kama Na Kahiki: Hawaiʻi is a Man, A Child of Kahiki Constructing a Genealogy Chapter 2 63 Hānau Kahikikū, Kahikimoe: Born is Kahikikū, Kahikimoe Layering the Literature of our Ancestors Chapter 3 95 No ke Kai kā hoʻi ua ʻĀina: This Land Belongs to the Sea Prophecies, Politics, and Progress Chapter 4 130 Pehea ka ʻAha a Kāua? How is our Cord? Ethnographic Practices from In Front of, Behind, and In the ʻAha Chapter 5 161 I Kahiki Ke Koʻi: The Adze is in Kahiki Sharpening Tools and Shaping Futures for Hawaiʻi and Beyond Conclusion 199 Ka Hiki: The Arrival References 202 iii ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS In a research interview a canoe builder reminisced about making ʻaha (or cord made of braided coconut husk) and how it was used to lash the pieces of a canoe together. He then prompted me to think about the metaphoric ʻaha that I was creating in my work and the many strands—from my home in Hawaiʻi and from the wider world in Kahiki—which I could bring together to make my cord stronger. His words inspired the creation of this thesis. Therefore, before exploring the many strands of this research, I would like to thank the people who contributed fibers to my ʻaha, making it thicker and hopefully capable of lashing together something useful for the future. I would first like to thank Victoria University of Wellington for the opportunity to study in Aotearoa. Their financial support not only allowed me to live in the country but also gave me the space and time to return home to conduct fieldwork. At the University, I would like to thank my supervisors, Teresia Teaiwa and Peter Adds. Teresia, if my thesis is like an ʻaha, you are the one who taught me how to braid, how to select strands and put them together with purpose. You inspired me to truly explore Kahiki by extending my rope to other places and peoples in this great sea of islands, seeing what I could pull up from the depths of our ocean. Peter, while I explored routes, you reminded me of roots, of where my ʻaha is anchored. Grounded in your own whēnua, you made sure I used my ʻāina as my foundation. Together, you both gave me the ability to create an ʻaha that is both rooted and routed. And for that, I will always be grateful. To Va’aomanū Pasifika, thank you for being my extended ʻohana in Wellington and for letting me speak, stand, and dance alongside you, whether in lectures, at conferences, or at protests and demonstrations. You inspire me to remember the vā, or the space between, that will connect us, always. To all of the scholars who contributed to this thesis, from the past and the present, thank you for each and every strand that you offered in the creation of this ʻaha. Your voices—presented in a variety of languages and colors—added texture and depth to my cord. To the canoe builders, Nā Kālai Waʻa, thank you for allowing me to enter the roped- off area of your memories, gathering your stories. You inspired me as a little girl and you inspire me now. Here’s to the next seven generations. To all of my friends in Hawaiʻi and in Aotearoa who offered words of support and encouragement as I attempted to braid strands of thought together, thank you. In Aotearoa, thank you to Emelihter for sharing this journey with me and for every talk, text, coffee, iv laugh, and sunny stroll along the way; to Kāwika for being “the other Hawaiian” and for being a piece of home in a windy city; to Jasmine, for introducing me to your beautiful country and for teaching me through the grace of your people; and to Thurston, for every warm hug that reassured me that this was possible. In Hawaiʻi, mahalo to my dear friend Aolani without whom I may have never filled out the application to come here, and to the rest of our hui from Mohā, who set me on this adventure, I look forward to all that we will create in the future. Lastly, to the people who secured the foundation upon which I stand, speak, dance, and work, I love you. To my hālau, dancing with you has been one of the privileges of my life. I am at “home” when in line with you. To my kumu, Bonnie, you are my light. Your influence is in every page of this thesis. To my brothers and sisters, Kanaina, Hawaiian, Keomailani, Kauka, and Auliʻi, you are my rock, my anchor, the base I know I can always tie my ʻaha to. To my nieces and nephews, you are my reason, my joy. And to my Mom and Dad, you are my kumu, my tree, with roots that run deep. It is from you that I was able to gather the first strands for this ʻaha and it is to you that I dedicate this work. v ABSTRACT While exploring different topics and issues—examining everything from the importance of our Pacific genealogies, to the analysis of Hawaiian language literature, to the power of prophecies and predictions for the future, to the need to be reflexive in the creation of culture, and finally to the act of building a nation—each chapter of this thesis is connected by one shifting concept: Kahiki. Furthermore, they are joined by the idea that there is life to be found there. As an ʻōlelo noʻeau, or a Hawaiian proverb, states, “Aia ke ola i Kahiki,” “Life is in Kahiki”. This adage has served as the foundation of this research and each chapter has been written with the belief that there is life—in the form of reconstructed knowledge, new interpretations, and growing understandings—to be found in Kahiki. Encapsulated in this one term are our ancestral memories of migration. When islanders traveled to different parts of the Pacific region, they maintained knowledge of their homelands. Although the names of these homelands differ throughout the Pacific, the concept is the same: islanders knew that their life in a particular place, a particular group of islands, was dependent on other places and peoples that although out of sight were never completely out of memory. After generations, however, the specificity of these “homelands” was blurred, and one name came to represent the genealogical connection that people shared with other places in the Pacific. What was Pulotu for some, therefore, became Hawaiki for others, and eventually became Kahiki for my ancestors in Hawaiʻi. Thus, Kahiki became a general term for all lands in the region outside of Hawaiʻi, and more importantly, became a way for Hawaiians to explain their existence to themselves. In later generations, however, particularly when people from other parts of the world came to Hawaiʻi, Kahiki became a term used to refer to all lands beyond Hawaiʻi’s shores. This thesis, therefore, studies the life of this one concept through time: looking at it as part of our Pacific genealogies, as presented in oral traditions; examining it as a means of making nationalistic statements, and sometimes, even as a means of justifying colonialism in the nineteenth century; and then exploring contemporary articulations and engagements with Kahiki, particularly in the era following the Hawaiian renaissance, when a group of men on the Big Island of Hawaiʻi built a single-hulled canoe, brining tools, teachers, and knowledge from Kahiki to give new “life” to their people. Studying the way this one concept has shifted through time provides a means of understanding how people in each generation used one term to make sense of their experiences. Furthermore, it gives us the chance to examine our vi contemporary movements and to reengage with Kahiki in a way that will empower us to do and be more for our people, our region, and the world. vii INTRODUCTION Aia ke ola i Kahiki: Life is in Kahiki E hoopuka me ka hopohopo ole a me ka wiwoole. (Hooho, “Ae!”) Ua pau ko kakou noho mumule ana. (“Ae!”)1 [Speak without worry and without fear. (Shouts, “Yes!”) Our time of sitting speechless is over. (“Yes!”)] Just a few short months after the illegal overthrow of the Hawaiian kingdom, Joseph Nāwahī (1893), one of the founders and presidents of the Hui Aloha ʻĀina, or the Hawaiian Patriotic League dedicated to supporting the deposed Queen Liliʻuokalani, delivered a speech before an audience of fellow patriots. His words, later printed in the loyalist newspaper, Ka Leo o ka Lahui, encourage the people to raise their voices without worry and fear and to resist sitting any longer in silence (p. 3). Between shouts of agreement, he posed questions urging them to think about the state of their nation, and more importantly, their desires for the future: He makemake no anei oukou e hoihoi hou ia aku ko oukou Moiwahine Liliuokalani ma luna o kona noho kalaunu? (Hooho kupinai mai ke anaina: “A—e—! Ae! Hoihoi koke aku no i keia wa!!!”) Ano, ua hiki mai ka wa a kakou e hoike aku ae ai i ko kakou manao aloha aina oiaio.