I started this blog on Wednesday, but I couldn't download the images. And I got caught up in the rest of the Halauola. This post was never posted. Here it is a few days late. There are no images. Kala mai ia'u. I'm sorry.
These are images from my visit yesterday to Kanewai (Water of Kane) Lo‘i. Youʻll see the kalo (taro) in the lo'i as well as some of the plants that are associated with kalo and lo‘i, banana, breadfruit, kukui and hau. There aren't any pictures of us in the lo‘i because I was afraid of getting my camera dirty. But we sweated. We cleaned the auwai (canal) of dead leaves and twigs, mixed them into the mud with just-picked hau leaves by stepping them into the muck, build mounds around the base of the kalo, and picked a few. Mahalo Kekailoa, Alapaki, Keoki and Shannon, our knowledgeable facilitators.
Kalo is central to Hawaiian folklore and philosophy. Kalo is the eldest, stillborn brother of Haloa, the first man, both of whom were born of Wakea (sky-father) and his daughter, Ho‘ohokukalani (to generate stars in the sky). Kalo is the eldest brother of all men. The star design in the middle of a kalo leaf is inherited from his mother, hence a whole lo‘i of kalo looks like the constellations. Did you know that kalo is one of the rare naturally hypoallergenic plants in the world. No one is allergic to it, I was told.
The cultivation of kalo is supported by two cultural values: mālama ‘āina and laulima, which mean, roughly, care for the land and thousand hands, sustainability and collective action.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
He ola
I started today’s blog yesterday to recap my previous two days of research at the Tax Office and Bishop Museum. But I’ll have to forego that information because I ought to talk about the conference, which started at 7:30 a.m. yesterday morning with the warm-up. There are 900+ participants in the Halāuaola, and many of them were already lined up when I arrived in the gym. Kumu Sonny Ching and members of his halau led the morning exercise. We started with some forward bends (hamstrings) and hinges on our knees (quadriceps), which was a bit too much, too soon for my still awakening and cold muscles. Then we stood and began the fun, the basic hula vocabulary: kaholo, ami, uwehe, kao, lele uwehe, huki, hela, kawelu... I can’t describe the power of so many bodies in one room swaying to the ipu, like a massive grove of coconut trees, and the distraction of wanting to watch everybody else. Many of the halau wore their uniform pa‘u and performed each of the movements particular to their hula tradition. The diversity within a so-called codified vocabulary caused me to consider the openness and flexibility available within the tradition. We then learned He Ola, I think itʻs the name, for there was no hard-copy handout to aid our learning this morning; we had learned it in the old style, by ho‘olohe, listening, and ‘ike, watching. The mele/hula is a tradition in Kumu Sonny’s family, which they offer at the arrival of a new year. We’ll perform the hula at the closing ceremony. “Ola” means life, health, well-being, living, livelihood, means of support, salvation; alive, living; curable, spared, recovered; healed; to live; to spare, save, heal, grant life, survive, thrive. It was an apropos thought to start a hula conference. The word would reappear throughout the day.
The conference organizers, Leina‘āla Kalama Heine, Hokulani Holt and Pualani Kanaka‘ole Kanahele, three of the most distinguished, affable kumu hula around, then officially began the proceedings with a fascinating mix of logistical information and hula philosophy. Kumu Leina‘āla, who is from the host island of O‘ahu, described the origin of the quadrennial conference, now in its third iteration, and articulated their initial intention, which was to bring the practitioners of hula who live throughout the world, many of whom have never been to these islands, to experience the source material. Hula, among many other concepts, is about place; it’s about Hawai’i, what Kumu Pualani called “our island earth.” No matter where one is, to do hula properly requires a reference, an embodied, psychological and imaginative orientation that is centered in the sensations of experience, a compass of body and soul to Hawai‘i nei (my interpretation). Kumu Pualani explained the hula altar, or kuahu, which had been erected in the far corner of the gymnasium. She discussed Laka, the god/dess of hula and the rainforest. She presented the reasons she loves hula and assigned each of the 900+ to express seven to ten reasons why we practice hula. In describing the kuahu, she noted the blessed transpirations of water, the rain shower and olu (mist), and how the transpiring sweat of hula practitioners connect them to ritual the cycles of nature, the god/dess Laka of the the flora (the ecosystem really, my interpretation), and the disciplines of enlightenment. Kumu Hoku, who was identified as the conference’s “assigner,” offered much of the organizational details. Woven throughout her speech about room changes, meals and registration, was the recurrent theme of respect for the place of the conference: the Kamehameha School and the island of O‘ahu. She also discussed two simple, yet resonant themes to me. One was the charge of giving back, generosity and sharing, not just taking. Hula dancers take just what is needed, respectfully, always maintaining enough for later and others. They also return. The other was to “be nice.” Aloha. Such plain attitudes, potentially considered naive and earnest elsewhere, seemed fresh this morning, and a sound directive to begin the conference. She also instructed us not to embellish any of the information we acquired, to do precisely what we are taught.
The subsequent morning session was led by Mehanaokala Hind, an impressive hula scholar and dancer for Kumu Leina‘āla’s halau, who described an O‘ahu hula tradition that was new to me, the story of Keaumelemele, a legend written by Moke Manu, in 1888. The halau designed a theatrical production about this myth, and Hind presented the layered and resonant meanings of the mele as well as a the production to life. In the afternoon, I had a three-hour hula noho (on our knees) workshop, with Kumu Kapono‘ai Molitau, who composed this Ipu Kuolo (another term for seated chant and hula with ipu), Aia Ka Wai O Keola, a song written for his father, John Keolamaka‘ainana Kalāhuinokalani Kamehameha‘ekolu Lake. It was a hula with an ipu heke, a double-gourded version of calabash drum. Mahalo, niece Leola, for sharing your beautiful ipu. I have carpet burns on my knees to verify the vigorousness of this “seated” hula in praise of a legendary, dedicated dancer and teacher. The session, to me, reified the processes of transmission and disseminating of a cultureʻs wisdom imbedded in legend, song and dance. The whole day seemed centered on these intelligent voices and hearts from the past that promoted a practice of hula life sustaining in balance with a fragile and, therefore, precious natural, peopled world.
Merce died. So I think of the innovations of modern dance, the newness of the other dance I do. My friend, Eric, texted me the news and described the procession plans for folk to visit the Cunningham Studio. I thought of him many times throughout the day because he was a diety of modern dance. He expanded the art form in directions like no one else. Merce was always pushing his art toward the unknown Future; hula practitioners, on the other hand, look back into History, which is full enough of mystery. There was an issue with the continuance of Merce's legacy. I wonder if he loathed the thought of himself in the past tense. I wondered about the high-tech dedications and altars being erected in his commemoration, his memory, which seems antithetical to him. Both the production of Keaumelemele and noho hula Aia Ka Wai O Keola, oddly, are modern dance productions, for they were truly created recently within the last few years. I went to the Cunningham website, there's a quote from the Tao Te Ching on the opening page: "...only he who is willing to give his body for the sake of the world is fit to be entrusted with the world. Only he who can do it with love is worthy of being the steward of the world." Hula practitioners, looking back and performing now, are stewards of the world for the future of the world, too. They should do it with generous Aloha. Aloha Merce. Mahalo. He ola.
The conference organizers, Leina‘āla Kalama Heine, Hokulani Holt and Pualani Kanaka‘ole Kanahele, three of the most distinguished, affable kumu hula around, then officially began the proceedings with a fascinating mix of logistical information and hula philosophy. Kumu Leina‘āla, who is from the host island of O‘ahu, described the origin of the quadrennial conference, now in its third iteration, and articulated their initial intention, which was to bring the practitioners of hula who live throughout the world, many of whom have never been to these islands, to experience the source material. Hula, among many other concepts, is about place; it’s about Hawai’i, what Kumu Pualani called “our island earth.” No matter where one is, to do hula properly requires a reference, an embodied, psychological and imaginative orientation that is centered in the sensations of experience, a compass of body and soul to Hawai‘i nei (my interpretation). Kumu Pualani explained the hula altar, or kuahu, which had been erected in the far corner of the gymnasium. She discussed Laka, the god/dess of hula and the rainforest. She presented the reasons she loves hula and assigned each of the 900+ to express seven to ten reasons why we practice hula. In describing the kuahu, she noted the blessed transpirations of water, the rain shower and olu (mist), and how the transpiring sweat of hula practitioners connect them to ritual the cycles of nature, the god/dess Laka of the the flora (the ecosystem really, my interpretation), and the disciplines of enlightenment. Kumu Hoku, who was identified as the conference’s “assigner,” offered much of the organizational details. Woven throughout her speech about room changes, meals and registration, was the recurrent theme of respect for the place of the conference: the Kamehameha School and the island of O‘ahu. She also discussed two simple, yet resonant themes to me. One was the charge of giving back, generosity and sharing, not just taking. Hula dancers take just what is needed, respectfully, always maintaining enough for later and others. They also return. The other was to “be nice.” Aloha. Such plain attitudes, potentially considered naive and earnest elsewhere, seemed fresh this morning, and a sound directive to begin the conference. She also instructed us not to embellish any of the information we acquired, to do precisely what we are taught.
The subsequent morning session was led by Mehanaokala Hind, an impressive hula scholar and dancer for Kumu Leina‘āla’s halau, who described an O‘ahu hula tradition that was new to me, the story of Keaumelemele, a legend written by Moke Manu, in 1888. The halau designed a theatrical production about this myth, and Hind presented the layered and resonant meanings of the mele as well as a the production to life. In the afternoon, I had a three-hour hula noho (on our knees) workshop, with Kumu Kapono‘ai Molitau, who composed this Ipu Kuolo (another term for seated chant and hula with ipu), Aia Ka Wai O Keola, a song written for his father, John Keolamaka‘ainana Kalāhuinokalani Kamehameha‘ekolu Lake. It was a hula with an ipu heke, a double-gourded version of calabash drum. Mahalo, niece Leola, for sharing your beautiful ipu. I have carpet burns on my knees to verify the vigorousness of this “seated” hula in praise of a legendary, dedicated dancer and teacher. The session, to me, reified the processes of transmission and disseminating of a cultureʻs wisdom imbedded in legend, song and dance. The whole day seemed centered on these intelligent voices and hearts from the past that promoted a practice of hula life sustaining in balance with a fragile and, therefore, precious natural, peopled world.
Merce died. So I think of the innovations of modern dance, the newness of the other dance I do. My friend, Eric, texted me the news and described the procession plans for folk to visit the Cunningham Studio. I thought of him many times throughout the day because he was a diety of modern dance. He expanded the art form in directions like no one else. Merce was always pushing his art toward the unknown Future; hula practitioners, on the other hand, look back into History, which is full enough of mystery. There was an issue with the continuance of Merce's legacy. I wonder if he loathed the thought of himself in the past tense. I wondered about the high-tech dedications and altars being erected in his commemoration, his memory, which seems antithetical to him. Both the production of Keaumelemele and noho hula Aia Ka Wai O Keola, oddly, are modern dance productions, for they were truly created recently within the last few years. I went to the Cunningham website, there's a quote from the Tao Te Ching on the opening page: "...only he who is willing to give his body for the sake of the world is fit to be entrusted with the world. Only he who can do it with love is worthy of being the steward of the world." Hula practitioners, looking back and performing now, are stewards of the world for the future of the world, too. They should do it with generous Aloha. Aloha Merce. Mahalo. He ola.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Ka‘ehu calling
I missed my connection at LAX last night. The mechanical and weather delays at JFK screwed up my plans, so I had to spend the night at the nearby Hilton. As I lugged my luggage through the bright lobby with dozens of the inconvenienced, I was reminded of the pilgrims that I saw recently in Spain. On foot, staff, bike and boat, these backpackers journeyed from all directions to the western city and cathedral of Santiago de Campostela, Christendomʻs third holiest city after Jerusalem and Rome, where the bones of St. James, aka Santiago, have been held, where the encounter with this site and its relics has miraculously inspired illnesses to be healed, hopes restored, and limbos in purgatory halved. (So I’ve read. I touched the marble column and hugged Christ’s robed statue from behind, but my foot fungus remained. What my itchy toes needed was a trip to the pharmacy rather than Spain.) While the gleaming, air-conditioned LAX Hilton is nowhere reminiscent of the reverent, rustic inns that dotted the long dirt paths to Santiago, I thought of pilgrimages and imagined the purposes of these harried, modern travelers, especially the young backpackers. Were any of them traveling long distances in some form of a spiritual search, as in the journey to the banks of Varanasi’s Ganga, where pilgrims bathe in the blessed water that flows from heaven? Were any of the Hilton guests escaping from some irreconcilable thing, like the Separatists Pilgrims who landed at Plymouth, communed with Native Americans and taught us about Gratitude? Were any of them seekers of understanding...truth? Is my trip a pilgrimage? Pilgrimages, I believe, are a physical response—a pathway ventured—to a higher command.
I suppose in my case, a Voice has always said, “Dance,” and while I am more than delighted to obey, I nonetheless have always wondered, “Why?” My path has often been a physical response to the whys of dance. I feel like the kid who responds to every command—“Eat your veggies,” “Put away your toys,” “Brush your teeth,” “Stop crying”—with the incessant “Why?” I won’t get into the why I ask, “Why dance?” except to say there’ve always been insecure, skeptical feelings about dance both in me and our world. I’ve always felt the urge to justify and advocate for it. So, here I am, again, trying to defend and advocate for why one dances. I have my practiced, studied responses—stock versions of ideas borrowed from the philosophies of people way smarter than me—but even these I wonder about and question. I can claim my experience, but these declarations only form more questions. For example, is it true that through dance, one learns about the self and his or her environment? What can a dance—in this case, a hula—disclose to me and you, about our connections, our separateness, our history, our world, our future? What’s the significance? Okay, perhaps it’s just not that deep and disconcerting. Just move...groove. Why not?
I started this entry in LA and continued writing on the flight over, but now I am on O’ahu. I’m staying with my sister, Christina, and her husband, Alapaki, and son, Kamuela, in Kane’ohe beneath those majestic cliffs, a lush, serrated wall crowning the coast that gives soaring elevation to the hula gesture for mountain, kuahiwi. 5-year old Kamuela, boisterous and solid, is my godson; Christina’s hāpai, pregnant, and self-conscious; she and Paki just bought this charming mid-century Hawaiian home in a typical local neighborhood with crowing roosters, barking guard dogs and nosy and nice neighbors. I am so stoked to be with them.
As soon as I arrived I drove to the Bureau of Conveyances to do some research. My being at this conference, the pilgrimage, has much to do research for my MFA in Dance Performance thesis for the University of Wisconsin – Milwaukee. More than a year ago, my kumu hula, June Tanoue, taught the halau Kaulana Nā Pua. It’s a famous mele in Hawai’i that was written in 1893, soon after politicians with American ties and economic interests overthrew the Hawaiian monarchy, then led by Queen Lili‘ūokalani. Members of the Royal Hawaiian Band were asked to sign an oath of allegiance to this new government. They refused and were threatened to lose their salary and instead be paid in “stones.” The band members approached Ellen Kekoaohiwaikalani Wright Prendergast, a friend of the Queen, who wrote these lyrics, which immediately became and has remained the rallying cry for the Native Hawaiians who wish to restore their sovereignty. Years laters, just before the time my sister’s house was built, “Aunty” Maiki Aiu Lake, a famous kumu hula who is known to be one of the primary instigators of the current Hawaiian renaissance, would choreograph a hula to this mele. She would teach it to her student, Kealoha Wong, who would teach it to her student, Michael Pili Pang, who would teach it to his student, June Tanoue. Get the tradition of hula? Like much of dance, it’s oral and kinesthetic. I, a non-Hawaiian speaker, never got the political message of the mele, the song, the words, until I had to embody it in hula. I just thought the music was gorgeously longing. So I’ve been exploring the political intentions of this hula, which have implications for looking at hula and dance in general as a political declaration and galvanizer (a response to the perennial question, why dance?). Today, Kaulana is still a presence in the sovereignty movement. I just heard a new version of the song on the radio with men shouting lines in the background that truly emphasize the call for resistance. But I’m also fascinated by the solemn prayer of some interpretations of the mele. If one were to read the lyrics, no “god” is explicitly identified in the English translation. But many Hawaiians would observe the dieties and ancestral spirits referenced throughout the mele and in the hula. They would feel the mana coursing through this song, just as they believe that It emanates from the iconic stones, pōhaku, for example, and the invaluable land, ‘āina, which are recurrent images in the art.
This curiosity brought me to the Bureau of Conveyances, which possesses the tax records and maps of all Hawaiian property. Kaulana has raised my curiosity about my family’s ‘āina on Maui. To honor a Native Hawaiian philosophy of the land I’m interested in acknowledging this ‘āina in its historical and cultural context. My parents bought it in 1953. I have only a few folkloric histories that I’d like to trace and revive. Interestingly, the tax records go back to only 1933. The information fills in just a few gaps, so many remain. It’s both fascinating and depressing to observe how cultural amnesia can be institutionalized. Why?
I suppose in my case, a Voice has always said, “Dance,” and while I am more than delighted to obey, I nonetheless have always wondered, “Why?” My path has often been a physical response to the whys of dance. I feel like the kid who responds to every command—“Eat your veggies,” “Put away your toys,” “Brush your teeth,” “Stop crying”—with the incessant “Why?” I won’t get into the why I ask, “Why dance?” except to say there’ve always been insecure, skeptical feelings about dance both in me and our world. I’ve always felt the urge to justify and advocate for it. So, here I am, again, trying to defend and advocate for why one dances. I have my practiced, studied responses—stock versions of ideas borrowed from the philosophies of people way smarter than me—but even these I wonder about and question. I can claim my experience, but these declarations only form more questions. For example, is it true that through dance, one learns about the self and his or her environment? What can a dance—in this case, a hula—disclose to me and you, about our connections, our separateness, our history, our world, our future? What’s the significance? Okay, perhaps it’s just not that deep and disconcerting. Just move...groove. Why not?
I started this entry in LA and continued writing on the flight over, but now I am on O’ahu. I’m staying with my sister, Christina, and her husband, Alapaki, and son, Kamuela, in Kane’ohe beneath those majestic cliffs, a lush, serrated wall crowning the coast that gives soaring elevation to the hula gesture for mountain, kuahiwi. 5-year old Kamuela, boisterous and solid, is my godson; Christina’s hāpai, pregnant, and self-conscious; she and Paki just bought this charming mid-century Hawaiian home in a typical local neighborhood with crowing roosters, barking guard dogs and nosy and nice neighbors. I am so stoked to be with them.
As soon as I arrived I drove to the Bureau of Conveyances to do some research. My being at this conference, the pilgrimage, has much to do research for my MFA in Dance Performance thesis for the University of Wisconsin – Milwaukee. More than a year ago, my kumu hula, June Tanoue, taught the halau Kaulana Nā Pua. It’s a famous mele in Hawai’i that was written in 1893, soon after politicians with American ties and economic interests overthrew the Hawaiian monarchy, then led by Queen Lili‘ūokalani. Members of the Royal Hawaiian Band were asked to sign an oath of allegiance to this new government. They refused and were threatened to lose their salary and instead be paid in “stones.” The band members approached Ellen Kekoaohiwaikalani Wright Prendergast, a friend of the Queen, who wrote these lyrics, which immediately became and has remained the rallying cry for the Native Hawaiians who wish to restore their sovereignty. Years laters, just before the time my sister’s house was built, “Aunty” Maiki Aiu Lake, a famous kumu hula who is known to be one of the primary instigators of the current Hawaiian renaissance, would choreograph a hula to this mele. She would teach it to her student, Kealoha Wong, who would teach it to her student, Michael Pili Pang, who would teach it to his student, June Tanoue. Get the tradition of hula? Like much of dance, it’s oral and kinesthetic. I, a non-Hawaiian speaker, never got the political message of the mele, the song, the words, until I had to embody it in hula. I just thought the music was gorgeously longing. So I’ve been exploring the political intentions of this hula, which have implications for looking at hula and dance in general as a political declaration and galvanizer (a response to the perennial question, why dance?). Today, Kaulana is still a presence in the sovereignty movement. I just heard a new version of the song on the radio with men shouting lines in the background that truly emphasize the call for resistance. But I’m also fascinated by the solemn prayer of some interpretations of the mele. If one were to read the lyrics, no “god” is explicitly identified in the English translation. But many Hawaiians would observe the dieties and ancestral spirits referenced throughout the mele and in the hula. They would feel the mana coursing through this song, just as they believe that It emanates from the iconic stones, pōhaku, for example, and the invaluable land, ‘āina, which are recurrent images in the art.
This curiosity brought me to the Bureau of Conveyances, which possesses the tax records and maps of all Hawaiian property. Kaulana has raised my curiosity about my family’s ‘āina on Maui. To honor a Native Hawaiian philosophy of the land I’m interested in acknowledging this ‘āina in its historical and cultural context. My parents bought it in 1953. I have only a few folkloric histories that I’d like to trace and revive. Interestingly, the tax records go back to only 1933. The information fills in just a few gaps, so many remain. It’s both fascinating and depressing to observe how cultural amnesia can be institutionalized. Why?
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Why Mau?
I’m still on my way, mid-flight, to Hawai’i. American Air has internet access, so I thought to start this first thread with some pre-arrival thoughts. The blog is called Mau. Erin Dudley, a butoh dancer in New York and classmate of mine in the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee MFA in Dance Performance program started calling me that because my given first name, John-Mario, kept getting mangled in the saying. I kind of liked the variety of mispronunciations: Jean-Marie, Juan-Mario, Jose, Joan-Mayrio... In any case, I use Mau for a number of reasons. #1: The word was one letter short of Maui, where I was born and raised. The missing “i” seemed significant especially because the capital “I” no longer live on the island. I reside in New York City, the moku of Manhattan. Nonetheless, I identify myself as a Maui-boy. “Nā hono a‘o Pi‘ilani” (the bays of the Pi‘ilani) was how Mauians of old identified the isle and themselves. Though the strategic bays mentioned in the expression are in or near Lahaina, my family lives on another of Maui’s important bays, Ka‘ehu, which is on the other side of the moku. Ka‘ehu’s known today as Paukūkalo. (Iʻll write more about this later.) This important phrase in praise of one of Maui’s great king (the 130th generation descendant of Wakea, God of Light, says Wikipedia) is also a line in the beautiful mele, Kaulana Nā Pua, a song and hula that led me to this conference. (More on this in another entry, too.) #2: Mau Piailug is one of the last living trans-Pacific master navigators from Satawai in the Carolina Islands who guided the training of modern Hawaiian navigators on the Hokūlea to and from Tahiti in 1976. Without any GPS or modern navigational instruments and using only ancient knowledge of wayfinding (the rhythms and sensations of a sun, stars, wind and vast ocean...and guts), these sailors recreated the unbelievable feats of the ancients who migrated to these most remote islands centuries before the Europeans landed in their New World. I don’t presume to be anything like this heroic Mau, but I find him a source of inspiration in my quests. (3) Mau, according to Pukui and Ebert, can mean always, steady, constant, ever, unceasing, permanent, stationary, continual, perpetual; to continue, persevere, preserve, endure, last; preservation, continuation; to continue, keep on, persist, renew, perpetuate, persevere, last; stopped, as menstruation; to make fast, as an anchor in sand; to snag; to cause to be retarded, grounded, wagered, stopped; conceived, as at the very moment of conception. The word’s in the State motto, “Ua mau ke ea o ka ‘āina i ka pono.” The life of the land is preserved in righteousness. There’s latitude and trajectory in the word. (4) Mau sounds like a Pacific Island person like me. Since I’m a Filipino-American (Ilocano-Visayan, for those of you wonder, with familial roots in Maglaoi, Cebu, Ormok) born is Hawai’i, the nickname seems apt. Me ka pono, mau
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Welcome
Aloha,
I created this blog experiment to communicate with friends, family and colleagues about my experience of the Ka 'Aha Hula 'O Halauaola. Feel welcome to submit your own thoughts, responses and knowledge. E komo mai.
jms (mau)
I created this blog experiment to communicate with friends, family and colleagues about my experience of the Ka 'Aha Hula 'O Halauaola. Feel welcome to submit your own thoughts, responses and knowledge. E komo mai.
jms (mau)
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