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 Quiet Calm 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.

It is true that when this grandchild heard the call of his grandmother, he quickly told his mother, Pohokinikini, “I am going up inland of Kalamaʻula to the halau aliʻi of my my umbilical cord, my afterbirth, my time of origin, my night of images, a sacred night, just night, a night of Akua, Akua is the name of the day at Kona. Our grandmother is calling for me to go up.”

The mother replied: “Well then, maybe you should harken to the voice of your grandmother chanting for you to climb up. What could be so important that this old woman would rouse you to ascend?”

Immediately, Makaʻiole got up, and his body was tightly poised, and the boy stretched his arms and legs, and then leapt until he was standing outside of their house. Then the boy called out,

“O Kaʻohukolomaiilunaokalaʻau,

O ʻŌhiʻanuimoeawakea,

Let your ʻōhiʻa body,

Fall down seaward,

As a path for me to ascend,

To the mountain ridge,

Harken to this call of mine,

Of the child of Kapāihilani,

The lei of Pohokinikini,

Of my mother,

In the sunlight of Kona.”

Their house was covered, the branch of ʻŌhiʻanuimoeawakea drooped down, the mist crept to the fields, concealing Makaʻiole, this was all as in the time of—

“Enshrouding forest

In the melodic sounds of the [birds].”

Pohokinikini came outside, and looked here and there, she could not see this child of hers, and so she simply began speaking aloud, “The acts that I see my child do are extremely baffling and amazing, and surprisingly my old body will prosper because of you, my dear child, and all the trouble I have taken from you will have been more than worthwhile.

These grandsons of Kauluhenuihihikolo were learning all that the grandmother taught, like the professions mentioned previously, and it was their fish and poi. As for Makaʻiole, he was a child of extraordinary form, and you know, reader, that Kamiki was born with an actual human form, and he is the hero of this entertaining story which we enjoy here together in the forest. 

The grandmother possessed knowledge and skill in jumping out from the house, beginning from above the stack of mats and landing on the roof of the house, there was not a place in the house she could not reach, the thatch purlin, the post, the rafter, the gable plates, landing on the roof, the upper ridgepole, and coming back again from there to the top of the stack of mats, landing on the cover of the container without letting it break, and then leaping from above the cover of the container to the trunk of the ʻōhiʻa tree,

ʻŌhiʻanuimoeawakea.”

It was possible to climb up by jumping to the point that the toes and fingers could reach, and go all the way to the top of the ʻōhiʻa tree, by going around in a circle on all of the branches of the ʻōhiʻa tree in the manner that little children play on the flat ground. From the branches of this ʻōhiʻa tree, they would come all the way down and these grandsons would lay on the stack of mats that had become ruffled up in the midst of the five layers of blankets made of ʻēkahaloa kapa. These grandsons of Kauluhenuihihikolo were exhausted and out of breath.

As they do this, this grandmother massages them and wipes their sweat, massaging the solid knots, slapping from the shoulders to the balls of the feet.

As for fencing with staves, their grandmother taught them until the final level known as “Certain Death,” namely “writhing until the mouth is in the dirt.” When it came to dodging rocks, spears, and clubs, Kapāihilani’s boys, the fosters of Kauluhenuihihikolo at Pohokinikini, were skilled unlike any other. So was the case in bone-breaking, boxing, chest-slapping, the art of lua fighting, and racing, even the professions of fishing for ahi and all other types of fishing.

Kauluhenui Tests the Speed of the Grandsons in Leaping and Racing

Reader, let us look at these lively boys in the same manner as their grandmother who possessed the knowledge, the skill, the speed in leaping, and racing, just as she had taught her grandsons until they were proficient.

Listen, my grandsons, you have learned all I know. You both have eaten your fill, my grandsons, and I have taught you so that my knowledge may pass through you, my grandsons, to make famous the name of—

“Kahuliʻelipapahonuamea

In the presence and the belly of Lono,

Known as ʻŌhiʻamoeawakea,

As Kūmakuamoeawakea,

As the women that lay about in the midday,

As Kauluhenuihihikoloiuka,

As Hihikaumanamanaikanahelehele,

As Kaʻohukolomaiilunaokalāʻau,

May my grandsons have power,

Makaʻiole and Kamiki,

The prayer has finish, it has gone forth,

The taboo has been lifted by me, by Kauluhenui.”

“You, Makaʻiole, fetch the yellow ʻawa of the god who becomes intoxicated with , who becomes bleary eyed and giddy, on the sacred cliff of Waipiʻo in the bosom of (the forest) of Haʻiwahine.” 

In the bright flats of ʻĀpua.

And as for all of your speed, my dear grandson, may it increase, may it extend, may it be made more than sufficient, and may it blossom forth on that journey,

“The upland path,

The lowland path,

The lonely path,

The damp and chilly path,

Your clothing by which you will stay warm is fire,

On my sacred path.

Of your grandmother of supernatural form,

Your path is full of power, my child,

O Kahuelokuikekihiokāʻelo,

Stand and listen to my voice, the voice of your grandmother,

Stand, stand,

Stand and listen, and hear.”

Makaʻiole stood up straight, and didn’t move with his arms outstretched like an ʻiwa bird gliding on the wind, and he listened, and then  for the order of the grandmother to leap and run, then he would run. 

The grandmother called her other grandson, Kamiki. His body was firm, and his stance was straight, his arms jutted out in front like a swordfish diving to catch fish. That is when the grandmother spoke,

O Kamiki, fetch the water of Kāne, upon the peak of the mountain in the chief house of Poliʻahu and Lilinoe, and their foster Kapikuowaiau. Below the foundation of the Kāne stone that looks to Pōhakuloa, they are family to your father. Fetch water for the kava of you two, and your older brother shall fetch the kava in the cliffs of Waipiʻo, the yellow kava of the multitude of gods, and the myriad of gods who drink kava until they are intoxicated. And as for all of your speed, my dear grandson, hold nothing back, may it be extended, be it be more than usual, and may it blossom forth throughout the length and the breadth of your journey,

“The upland path,

The lowland path,

The lonely path,

The damp and chilly path,

Your clothing by which you will stay warm is fire,

The warmth in which you bask on the sacred path.

Of your grandmother of supernatural form,

Your path is supernatural, my child,

O Nanaikauluokamalama,

Stand and listen to my voice, the voice of your grandmother,

Stand, stand,

Stand and listen, hear.”

“Run, you two, until you arrive before your grandmother, in the cold, in the entanglements, in the myriad waters, in the hard wood forests of the forest of Mahiki. The name of this grandmother is Lanikuʻiamamao, also Lanimamao. She has your kava bowl and kava strainer, and with this  bowl, Nanaikauluokamalama, you shall scoop the sacred water of Kāne and Kanaloa, hold it up to your bosom, until you are ready to turn around and come back.

You will travel on the ridges, on the mountains, and on the white peaks, jumping on the mountaintops, on the astonishing sacred mountains that lead men astray, until they lay weary by strange voices. Yes, run, you two, to your grandmother, but if you look, and she lay with her eyes closed, do not wake her, because her sleep is sacred and not to be disturbed. But peer at the net hanging from the highest point of the ceiling. The bowl and the strainer will be in there.

The bowl is for you, Kamiki, and the strainer is for you, Makaʻiole, and set the net at the door of the house. There, you two shall take your separate ways and meet back again at the summit of Kaukahokuikamakaokeaouli.

And if you two arrive and the old woman is awake, leap into her lap and hold her tight, and should the old woman soon jump about, don’t you two let go, hold tight. She will squirm until she is out of breath, and will ask, “Whose child are you?” You both shall answer, “Yours.” She will ask, “Mine by whom?” Your answer shall be, “By Kahuliʻelipapahonuamea,

In the presence and the belly of Lono,

Known as ʻŌhiʻamoeawakea,

As Kūmakuamoeawakea,

As tthe women that lie about in the midday,

As Kauluhenuihihikolo,

As Hihikaupeʻakaumanamanaikanahele,

As Kaʻohukolomaiilunaokalāʻau,

Answer me,

O Lanikuiamamao,

Our chiefly sacred grandmother,

Our grandmother by whom the earth is made sacred,

It is we two, your descendants,

Through Kapāihilanipōʻeleikekihiokamalama.”

And right after that is when this grandmother of yours will greet the two of you, and if she ask about your journey before her, tell her, “We have come to retrieve Hōkūʻula, the kava bowl sacred to Lonomakahiki,

Secured in the net,

Hung on the ceiling,

From the upper ridge post of your house.

She will give it, and that is when you two shall part ways, going as fast as you can, my grandsons. You shall race with the sun, the rain and the wind.

So then, lend all all of you efforts to reach Lanikuʻiamamao,

And fly, lest the time flies,

And run, lest the time runs,

Be swift, lest the time passes swiftly,

The mountain stands high,

The sea reaches far,

The sacred grandsons,

Of Lanikuʻiamamao,

Exert your speed to obtain the kava,

The kava of the multitude of gods.

The myriad of gods,

The plethora of gods,

Drinking,

Until bleary eyed,

The eyes are weary,

Dizzy in drunkenness,

Strive to get the water,

The sacred water of Kāne and Kanaloa,

Of the multitude of gods

Of the myriad of gods,

Of the plethora of gods,

Entwining in the ʻalaʻihi,

Striving in the mist,

The mist that crawls through the uplands,

Leap,

Run.

O Makaʻiole and Kamiki, the swift grandsons of Kauluhenuihihikoloiuka.

Then these grandsons flew off and disappeared from sight, and the grandmother went back into the house. This old woman looked to the ceiling of her house and leapt until her feet touched the ceiling as her head hung down along with her hands and entire body. (Something only a person with marvelous powers could do.)

When Makaʻiole and Kamiki took off, leapt, and stood on the flat ground, inland Kalamaʻula, these lively boys began to stretch out their arms, and immediately these heroes began to exert all of their speed. And the loincloth flaps of the boys of Kapāihilani came to stick straight out behind.

Until next week.

Citation: 1914, Feb. 5 “Kaao Hooniua Puuwai no Ka-Miki.” Ka Hoku o Hawaii, Volume VIII, Number 35, Page 1, Column 3-6. 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.