HOW HAWAIIANS ARE RELATED TO TARO ON “VOICES OF TRUTH - ONE-ON-ONE WITH HAWAI`IʻS FUTURE"
"Only The People Change - A Visit With Kapa`ihi Umebayashi"
Hereʻs a story weʻve long wanted to tell you - the unique and special relationship between Hawaiians and the taro plant which goes back centuries. To do that, we spent an afternoon with Kapa`ihi Umebayashi, a farmer at Kako`o`oiwi on O`ahuʻs beautiful windward side. He explained to us taro is not just a staple food for Hawaiians, but theyʻre actually related to it. Join us in our amazing visit with Kapa`ihi as he explains the ancient ties between Hawaiians, taro and Hawai`iʻs land and what they have to teach all of us if we only listen - Watch It Here
Now you can become a fan of Voices Of Truth on Facebook by clicking Here and see behind the scenes photos of our shows and a whole lot more.
Voices Of Truth interviews those creating a better future for Hawai`i to discover what made them go from armchair observers to active participants. We hope you'll be inspired to do the same.
Voices Of Truth airs throughout Hawai`i on all islands and reaches over 24 million households across the US and throughout the world. Check your local cable TV listings.
For news and issues that affect you, watch Free Hawai`i TV, a part of the Free Hawai`i Broadcasting Network.
Please share our Free Hawai`i Broadcasting Network videos with friends and colleagues. That's how we grow. Mahalo.
2 notes
·
View notes
Kalo for a Heart Transplant (or: Opihi Wahine)
I fall into sleep off the edge of exhaustion. Drowning in the blackness, with a dizziness in my limbs.
My mind opens to eyes restless in a blaring red light.
Then, my eyes really open to the brightest star of them all. Spearing his rays straight through my pupils. The afternoon sun has impatiently waited for my arrival.
There is my mother. Across the canoe. Spotted hands twirling above a row of lines. Hair as black and thick as she has always yearned for, gliding and flowing across her body to make her seem an age I’ve long forgotten. Topless, I can see her breasts have not been ruined by the lying man of medicine. Her face and body are full of an unfamiliar plumpness, but it fills me with a great wash of joy. She’s beautiful. She finally sees that I am here.
“Aloha awakea, ku’uipo.”
This feels like the first thing she has ever said to me; her voice is not the voice I have heard for 18 years. There is something new in this greeting…
“Are you going to help me? Or just sit there for the next half of the day, Hana’ia?”
The words come out in her strange voice. There’s nothing atypical in her phrasing but something feels out of place. Of course, I’m never ku’uipo. I’m Smoochie…
Just as soon as the wave pours over me, I realize that my mother hasn’t said a word of English! How did I understand her displeased rhetoric? How have we both learned ‘Ōlelo Hawai’i overnight?
“Momma, where are we...?”
“Fishing.”
“But where?”
“Here.”
She was turned away from me to examine her lines. So many… When did she braid these? And carve the hooks? Or the weights?
Well, she seems pleased, I thought. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her so upbeat. Such a long, long while.
Ready to contribute to my mother’s precious happiness, I put aside my confusion to see if there’s room for me to help.
Once I roll up and start to move towards her, I feel something brush all around me. Startled, I let out an unorchestrated sound of surprise.
Unwavered from her task, my mother simply asks, “What’s wrong?”
“My hair!”
“And?”
“It’s long!”
“So, it is.
“You are so silly, my opihi…”
She turns to me and presses her forehead against mine. Nose against nose. We breathe in together. Oh, how I can love my mother.
We part and I see her nose is broader than I remember. But, remember from where? Where else have I had a mother?
I sit back and examine my hands for a moment; thinking of all the times I have touched her. I remember a time of repulsion. But when? And… these hands don’t look right for some reason. I look at my mother’s- I see the white splotches always across her fingers. Quick, I see her feet are the same as they were, too. The same? I sense a wrongness… that maybe my hands are the ones to be pale. This knowledge must mean something. We can think about it later. Now-
“Do you need anything, momma?”
“A’ole, opihi.”
“Are you sure, momma..?”
“You could get ready to take the fish. Remember to thank the ocean.”
“‘Ae.”
I sat in the middle of her canoe and asked the ocean permission to take from her the fish we were after and offered her plentiful thanks for allowing us to catch them and eat the flesh from their bones. I expressed my love within our connection and my promise that we would return life to moana where she has given us life in sustenance.
Time passes and the sun makes his way closer to rest.
- - -
We have just as much fish as we need. Nothing more should be taken and what we have been given is our blessing.
I can’t recall the names of these fish- I guess I should know them- but it’s no worry. My mother lovingly handles them. I watch her hands lovingly caress each one’s scales as she rinses them and repeats her prayers over their bodies.
Suddenly, I notice her chanting has come to an abrupt end.
I look up to her face to see it has taken on a scowl. One that gets worse by the second.
Her eyes bear directly into mine- her stare the sister of the sun’s shine.
“Momma? What’s wrong?”
She doesn’t answer me. I look back to her hands- never being good at handling eye contact.
A minute of silence goes by. I have since closed my eyes. These moments always instill fear within me. What will she do to me?
I open up to the world to see a woman.
This woman is not my mother. Or how is she here? Is she my mother?
But, my mother does not have skin the color of sand. Nor are her eyes blue like the sky. And never would she desecrate her hair to have it so pale as kapa.
“Momma?”
My not-mother returns to her stabbing gaze.
Her mouth leads headstrong into its assault.
“I’m disappointed in you, Hana.”
I say nothing. The lump in my throat is here to kill me. My tears are ready to fill my lungs. They fill my eyes even as I hold them shut.
“You’re not good enough. You’re not fast enough. You’re not obedient, or pretty, or likable. You’re so lazy and useless, I don’t know why you’re here!”
The words from my not-mother’s thin lips slice through me like razors.
A lifetime of pain returns to me. The razors come back. The memories come back, flooding me with anguish. The undeserving killers... I’m half-dead, already. All I need is to stop living.
“I won’t help you anymore. I don’t want you. I never wanted you.”
She takes no pauses, but in silence my heart burns for one.
“I wish you died when you should have. You’re not even good enough to do that.
“I hate you. And you’re worthless.”
Pain sears through my limbs. I remember the cuts all over.
I fall into not-sleep in exhaustion. Blackness drowns me. Suffocates me. My mother’s hair steals my breath.
My mother steals the breath we shared.
- - -
I open up to water. My sun across the Earth. I’m sticky wet beneath my blue blanket.
The softness was supposed to keep the nightmares away… Or something.
Keep my heart soft.
My small little fan is doing its best to keep me cool. It can’t compete with how hot it is in the room, though. Or the weather downtown, in any case.
And the terror that fills me at night has no match here.
My roommate lies across from me. Still sound asleep. Hopefully I didn’t say anything aloud, tonight…
I nestle myself back into bed, limbs wrapped around the blanket now to comfort my troubles. To release my heat, to release my heart.
I know I said I was tired of Jacob dreams, but this is not what I meant.
29.08.18
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I wrote this last year as a warm-up paper for my Composition I course. It’s meant to deal with the aspects of my trauma I was facing at the time. But, it is still stunningly relevant, up to just this morning. It is also a first attempt for me to breach the exterior membrane of cultural reconnection; the use of language in this piece very clearly lacks proper nuance of a supposedly ““real”” Hawaiian. My familiarity has since slightly improved, but I have elected to leave all of my errors and idiosyncrasies of last year in. All in all, it’s not a very remarkable piece but it is one of my very first tries at writing something that isn’t a “poem”.
1 note
·
View note
Hauʻoli Lā Kūʻokoʻa!
Today (November 28, 2019) may be coming to a close here, but I want to talk about Lā Kūʻokoʻa, or Hawaiian Independence Day.
This year, Lā Kūʻokoʻa falls on America’s “Thanksgiving,” a day that holds a lot of trauma for Indigenous people across the continent. Many have decided to rename and repurpose Thanksgiving to be a National Day of Mourning, first recognized in 1970. Allen Salway, a Diné, Oglala Lakota, Tohono O’odham activist wrote a powerful piece of National Day of Mourning for Paper Magazine.
Something that you may not know is that Hawaiʻi was an Internationally recognized Nation that was illegally annexed by the United States. I won’t go into details here, there is plenty of information on the internet if you look up “Hawaiian Kingdom Overthrow.” It is way too traumatizing to constantly educate others about. Instead, I would like to write about how the Kingdom of Hawaiʻi became a recognized nation.
Lā Kūʻokoʻa recognizes the day Timoteo Haʻalilio received the signatures from France, Britain, and the United States that declared Hawaiʻi to be a sovereign, independent nation.
Timoteo Haʻalilio traveled through Mexico on foot and donkey along with his missionary assistant, William Richards, to Washington, D.C. to meet with President John Tyler. President Tyler agreed with Timoteo Haʻalilio’s treaty, allowing him and Richards to travel to Europe. They visited Belgium, Paris, and London, where the treaty was signed. Timoteo Haʻalilio returned to Washington, D.C. to reaffirm the United State’s agreement to the treaty.
Unfortunately, Timoteo Haʻalilio died on the final leg of the journey back home to his beloved Hawaiʻi on December 3rd, 1844. He was only 36 years old. Lā Kūʻokoʻa was a nation-wide holiday in the Kingdom of Hawaiʻi, and is still celebrated today by Kanaka Maoli determined to keep our Kingdom alive.
Mahalo pau ʻole to Timoteo Haʻalilio who brought the Pae ʻĀina independence.
21 notes
·
View notes
THE STORY OF KALO ON “VOICES OF TRUTH - ONE-ON-ONE WITH HAWAI`IʻS FUTURE"
"Only The People Change - A Visit With Kapa`ihi Umebayashi"
Hereʻs a story weʻve long wanted to tell you - the unique and special relationship between Hawaiians and the taro plant which goes back centuries. To do that, we spent an afternoon with Kapa`ihi Umebayashi, a farmer at Kako`o`oiwi on O`ahuʻs beautiful windward side. He explained to us taro is not just a staple food for Hawaiians, but theyʻre actually related to it. Join us in our amazing visit with Kapa`ihi as he explains the ancient ties between Hawaiians, taro and Hawai`iʻs land and what they have to teach all of us if we only listen.
Now you can become a fan of Voices Of Truth on Facebook by clicking Here and see behind the scenes photos of our shows and a whole lot more.
Voices Of Truth interviews those creating a better future for Hawai`i to discover what made them go from armchair observers to active participants. We hope you'll be inspired to do the same.
Voices Of Truth airs throughout Hawai`i on all islands and reaches over 24 million households across the US and throughout the world. Check your local cable TV listings.
For news and issues that affect you, watch Free Hawai`i TV, a part of the Free Hawai`i Broadcasting Network.
Please share our Free Hawai`i Broadcasting Network videos with friends and colleagues. That's how we grow. Mahalo.
0 notes