Kaao Hooniua Puuwai no Ka-miki / The Heart-Stirring Legend for Kamiki

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The Heart-Stirring Legend for Kamiki

The Hero of the Calm Pohu Wind of Kona with Its Billows— The Wonder Who Thwarted Luanuʻuanuʻupōʻelekapō and the Godly Council of Heha Waipiʻo’s Nine Cliffs, Shrouded in the Mist— The Expert that Took Away the Famous Cowry of Kalokunu, the Dust-Stirring Wind of Puakō.

“Which of you two are related by flesh, by bone, by blood, with a true and inseparable relation to this old female kahuna?”

The grandson called, “Answer, O Kauluikekihiokamalama,

I am delighting in my stay,

In going upland, and seaward,

And to the ʻilima field scorched by the sun

The sun that blazes over the pāhoehoe,

Pāhoehoe blazing like the eyes of the ʻūlili bird of Pohokinikini,

Saturated by the Leimalo encircling,

Encircling all around,

From the sea to the mountain ridges,

My beloved grandmother has heard,

Kaʻohukolomaiilunaokalāʻau,

Kūmakua-moe-awakea,

Nāwahinemoeawakea,

Kāhuliʻelipapahonuamea

Kauluhenuihihikoloiuka,

Hihikaumanamanaikanahelehele

“Answer; I greet you.”

O Reader who has befriending Kamiki and Makaʻiole of the ʻilima fields scorched by the sun, here, let us  leave the discussion concerning these lively boys of Kohanaiki, and let us look toward the messenger of the aliʻi, Kapukalua, namely Eia. When they arrived after climbing up to the highest point of Puʻukilea, and when this messenger searched, the boys were not there, they had disappeared. He continued looking inland and seaward, but he saw nothing. So, the messenger thought the boys had gone back to the father’s place or perhaps went back to swim with the children who were making a racket along the shore.

So, the messenger went back, and when he reached the shore, the chief Kapukalua saw Eia return, and he called out.

“Why have you come back, my dear swift messenger, and why have you left the boys on the friendless path, the path with no parental protection? Where are my children whom you have abandoned and left in the blazing desolation on the heights of the jagged rocks?”

“That is why I have come back. We were climbing and went down to the forest of Puʻukilea, and all of a sudden these boys of yours disappeared without me knowing, and so I thought to come back. That is my reason for my return, aliʻi. To have a look.”

Kapukalua asked, “When did the boys disappear?” “When the fog shielded the sun, and the mist began to descend, that was the last time I saw them. I looked ahead, and there was nothing. I looked behind, and there was nothing. So, I came back to where the children were making a racket, sure that they had come back here.”

“With all the speed that you possess, Eia, and even more, head to the uplands, the lowlands, the ʻilima field, and the mountains. Get going, Eia!”

Quicker than a flash, Eia reached the door of the house of Pohokinikini and company, and the voice of Pohokinikini was heard from inside: “It’s you, isn’t it?” “Yes, it’s me.”

“My boy just told me you would bring an aku for us, and here you are.”

Eia asked, “Where is Kapāihilani’s boy, the foster child of Pohokinikini and Puʻuwalea?

“Relaxing in the calm,

Fanned by the cold breeze

The sea is calm,

Kona in the calm of Ehu.”

“He went out a little while ago and came back to sleep.”

Eia left this boy’s fish, and even though he had become stiff and sore, quick as a flash, he reached the door of the house of Kauluhenuihihikolo, and chanted, thus:

Here am I, Peerer, Gazer,

Here am I, Listener,

Here am I, Ever-hearing,

Here am I, Surprised, Startling,

Here am I, Restless,

Here am I, Haunter,

Here am I, the racer, running to the uplands,

Here am I, the racer, running to the sea,

Here am I, the racer,

The messenger of Kapukapu,

Of the sacred door of the house,

It is I, Eia, and no other,

The messenger of Kapukalua.”

The old woman answered, “Impossibly swift has been the ascent from the rocky pāhoehoe ʻilima field gleaming in the sun, and from the pāhoehoe field to the jungle thick with lehua.”

“Your running is like a bird circling above,

As it’s shadow passes over the ground.”

Eia replied, “I have come away from the places reeking of the child of Kapāihilani and Pōhakuokāne, your foster child, O Kauluikekihiokamalama,

Kaulua is the sun,

Kaulua is the rain,

Kaulua is the wind,

Kaulua is the sea,

Kaulua is the calm,

Kaulua is the star above,

O Kauluhenuihihikoloiuka, 

The messenger picked up the aku and left it on a shelf, and then he turned, flew off and was quickly out of sight.

The messenger reached the place of the chiefess Kapāihilani, then reached the place of Pipipiapoʻo, the chiefly sister of Kapukalua, and then arrived again before the chief at the shore. This distance was traversed by this messenger, from the small beach point of ʻApoʻula to the lama grove of Pohokinikini, and from there to the upland of Kaukahoku where the birds sing, coming back to the royal court of Kapāihilani, reaching the field of Nānāwale (also now called Nahiahu), and then back to the mist-shrouded home of Kapukalua at the shore. The aliʻi’s fish had not finished broiling. (It was a speed that was unmatched, comparable only with a bird).

And the messenger told the chief, “Quite a while ago, the boy had left the house, and when I arrived, the boys were asleep. The speed of these boys was extremely astonishing, they will be much faster than all of the children with supernatural speed when they grow big.

When Kapukalua heard the report of the messenger, Eia, he immediately remembered their grandmothers, and the extraordinary manifestations of these grandmothers, and this is what he said to Eia: “That which you have told me is true, that is the reason for the sudden coming of rain, those extraordinary forms of that old woman are the means by which my grandsons have descended and ascended, which I had just realized as you were telling about the time when the rain came,  the light misty rain circling around in the midsts. It is a manifestation of our grandmother, Kaʻohukolomaiilunaokalāʻau,”

“ʻŌhiʻamoeawakea,

Kūmakuamoeawake[a],

The women that lay about in the midday,

Kahuliʻelipapahonuamea,

Kauluhenuihihikolo

Hihikaupeʻakaumanamanaikanahele,”

“Did you not see a large ʻōhiʻa tree standing at the door of the house?”

“There was a peculiar ʻōhiʻa tree, it was twisted and bent by climbing, and nothing could be seen of its summit. It’s as if I went into the dark rain clouds.”

“It is ʻŌhiʻamoeawakea, the pointed hand of their and my supernatural grandmother.”

Here, dear reader, let us leave the discussion of Kapukalua and Eia the swift messenger, and let us move the compass forward to the one for whom is this cherished sacred pastime.

Part Two

Kamiki and Makaʻiole dodge the different strokes of Lua— Ensnared in the Koko Net of Makaliʻi and staying at Kaupoku Hale — The Escape

The constant task of the grandmother, Kauluhenuihihikolo, was to teach her grandson how to leap, along with spear-fencing, rock dodging, bone-breaking, boxing, the blows of lua fighting, swift running, and backhand spear throwing, even the styles of aku fishing and all types of fishing styles. And when the days of the grandmother’s instruction arrived, she called out to that grandson of hers, Makaʻiole, chanting: “Ascend O Kahuelokuikekihiokāʻelo,

“It is Kāʻelo, the moon is soggy,

It is Kāʻelo,  the day is soggy,

It is Kāʻelo, the rain is soggy,

It is Kāʻelo, the wind is soggy,

It is Kāʻelo, the sea is soggy,

It is Kāʻelo, the calm is soggy,

It is Kāʻelo, the star above is soggy,

O Kahuelokuikekihiokāʻelo,

What are you up to?

Ascend O Pohakanikoʻo,

Dig down to the foundation,

[Ascend] up into the sky,

Into the level of the lowering cloud, in the presence of you know who.”

Makaʻiole heard, and immediately went to beg his mother to allow him to ascend inland to the place of his grandmother, and in no time, he was there.

Citation: 1914, Jan 29. “Kaao Hooniua Puuwai no Ka-Miki.” Ka Hoku o Hawaii, Volume VIII, Number 34, Page 1, Column 4-6. Retrieved from Papakilo Database http://papakilodatabase.com. Translated by Emmanuel Kilika Bennett, Uʻilani Au and Kapali Lyon, Institute of Hawaiian Language Research and Translation, 2018. Honolulu, HI: University of Hawaiʻi.