A Native Hawaiian Short Story: Voyaging — September Competition
Looking back on a Labor Day weekend with friends and family…
Eagerly walking down the dated, rocky boat ramp, I dragged the juniper kayak into waters off of Punaluʻu, Hawaiʻi. “Be careful!” my dad warned, scanning the water. As someone who tends to not read directions before doing something for the first time, I had a hard time getting on the kayak; it took me a solid ten minutes. After successfully positioning myself, I was ready to explore. Wait. “Dad! How do I hold this?!” I asked, looking to shore with the single paddle in hand.
I observed other keiki enjoying the Labor Day Weekend. They were swimming with characterized pool floaties, casting their fishing poles, and diving into the crystal clear water to cool their little bodies and protect them from the UV rays.
The reef formation turned dangerous unruly waves into soft ripples, allowing the warm salty air to come closer to shore with the help of every zephyr. I was especially intrigued by the beauty of my uncle’s white traditional waʻa, or single-hulled canoe, gliding through the turquoise water.
Hours passed. It was about noon, the sun browning my already sunburned skin. I decided to go a little further out. Enchanted in the kai, I almost capsized the kayak while surveying the colorful coral, limu and iʻa below. My tired non-muscular arms forced me to take a break, allowing me to take in the picturesque Koʻolau Mountains. An abundance of flora and fauna covered the old mountain range. The calm, soothing ripples nearly rocked me to sleep. I felt a connection to the ocean. I was calm and at peace, as if someone or something was watching over me. Even though I’d gone fishing, layed net, swam, danced hula, and kanikapila with my family, this single kayaking excursion touched home.
“He waʻa he moku, he moku he waʻa; The canoe is our island, and the island is our canoe.” This ʻōlelo noʻeau , or proverb, highlights the fact that the ocean provides as much as the land does. Thousands of years ago, our kupuna arrived in Hawaiʻi with nothing but the items in their waʻa. They set up shop on small uninhabited islands in ten million square miles of ocean.
Voyaging is not only important to Hawaiʻi, but to all of Oceania as well. We, nā kanaka maoli, have an unconditional connection to the ʻāina and it’s resources. Forever indebted to Hawaiʻi, it is my kuleana, your kuleana, and OUR kuleana to not only mālama everyone and everything, but to preserve customs and traditions like voyaging, farming, fishing, moʻolelo, and hula, crucial to our modern existence.
Please follow me, @Mackenzie Plunkett, for more stories on all things kanaka maoli! Mahalo nui!
