Anahulu Hoʻonui 9/3 – 9/12

Aloha mai nō kākou, 

Let us continue our journey together reading Hoʻoulumāhiehie’s version of Ka Moʻolelo o Hiʻiakaikapoliopele, as written by Hoʻoulumāhiehie in Ka Naʻi Aupuni: 

ʻOiai nā pepeiao o Wahineʻōmaʻo a me Lohiʻau e lilo ana i hope a me kēia mau leo wawalo weliweli a kū i ka hoʻomākaʻukaʻu e kani ana, i ia wā i ʻōlelo mai ai ʻo Hiʻiaka iā lāua, “ʻAʻohe kēnā he mau hoʻoleleiona mai nā moe wai mai a kākou i ʻike mai nei i ke kū o ka ʻea o ka lepo, akā, mai kekahi moe wai ʻokoʻa mai kēia, nona ka inoa ʻo Kamōʻiliʻili. ʻO kona kalana ʻāina kēia a kākou e hele nei. A mai hopohopo ʻolua no kēia mau mea a ʻolua e ʻike nei.” 

I kēlā wā nō i pū aʻe ai ʻo ua ʻo Hiʻiakaikapoliopele i ka pāʻū ona a paʻa ma kona lima, a hoʻomau akula nō lākou nei i ka hele ʻana. ʻO ko lākou nei hele nō ia a piʻi i kahi hoʻopiʻina e kau aku ai i luna o ka kiʻekiʻena, ʻo ka manawa nō ia o Hiʻiaka i ʻike aku ai i ka lele ʻana mai o Kamōʻiliʻili me kona ikaika a pau. 

Wehe ke ā luna, wehe ke ā lalo o ua moʻo nei, pulelo nō hoʻi kona mau lauoho i hope, ʻaʻā nā maka a kekē nā niho. I ia ʻike ʻana aku a Hiʻiaka i ua moʻo nei e lele maila ana, huli mai ʻo ia i hope a ʻōlelo maila i ke kāne a me ke aikāne, “ʻAuhea ʻolua. E neʻe mai ʻolua a pili mai ma hope pono oʻu, o loaʻa auaneʻi ʻolua i ka ʻehu o nā poʻipū ʻana mai a ka hoa paio o kākou.” 

While the ears of Wahineʻōmaʻo and Lohiʻau were being yanked back, and these frightening voices roared, Hiʻiaka said to them, “These are not the antics of those water-dwellers we just saw kicking up dust, for this comes from a different moʻo, named Kamōʻiliʻili. This is her territory we are going through. Be not afraid of what you see.”

Hiʻiaka then bunched up her skirt in her hand, and they continued on. They proceeded up the slope to the top of a bluff, at which point Hiʻiaka saw Kamōʻiliʻili coming at them with full force.

The upper and lower jaws of the moʻo gaped open, her hair swished behind her, her eyes blazed, and her teeth were bared. As Hiʻiaka saw the moʻo moving in to pounce, she turned and said to the man and her aikāne, “Listen! Move back and get directly behind me, lest you be caught up in the fury of our foe’s attack.”

As we consider the above scene of our moʻolelo, especially if we are entering the text through the English version, our imaginations might be painting fearsome portraits of Kamōʻiliʻili. But in the photo I have included with this anahulu update, I encourage you all, dearest readers, to imagine the large white stone (encompassing the right portion of the image) as a guardian of the water. 

Although it may be hard to see from the photo, the rock extends below the surface of the water, and the movement of water through the stone has weathered the material into the form of a jaw. “Wehe ke ā luna, wehe ke ā lalo o ua moʻo nei” and other descriptions of moʻo might refer to specific characteristics of the ʻāina and how water interacts with the geography of the landscape—karsts indeed have an upper and lower jaw that are bared open, fiercely protecting the freshwater and life within.