Chapter XXIII · THE LAME FISHERMAN—HIS EPIC RECITAL CELEBRATING PELE
Reading edition
On arriving at Haena, Hiiaka did not go at once to Lohiau’s place but to the house of Malae-ha’a-koa, a man of chiefish rank, and one who had the reputation of being a seer. He was lame and unable to walk. For this reason his wife, Wailua-nui-a-hoano, had carried him down to the seashore and, leaving him there to his fishing, had gone home to her work of tapa-making. She was busily wielding the tapa club in the hale kuku kapa while Hiiaka stood outside the enclosure and sang:
Kunihi ka mauna i ka la’i, e,
O Wai-aleale, la, i Wai-lua;
Huki iluna ka popo ua o Ka-wai-kini;
Alai ia a’e la e Nounou,
Nalo ka Ipu-ha’a,
Ka laula ma uka o Ka-pa’a, e.
I pa’a i ka leo, he ole e hea mai.
E hea mai ka leo, e!
TRANSLATION
The mountain turns the cold shoulder,
Facing away from Wai-lua,
Albeit in time of fair weather.
Wai-kini flaunts, toplofty, its rain-cap;
And the view is cut off by Nounou,
Thus Humility Hill is not seen,
Nor Ka-pa’a’s broad upland plain.
You seal your lips and are voiceless:
Best to open your mouth and speak.
The woman Wai-lua-nui-a-hoano received in silence this sharp reproof of her haughty and inhospitable conduct, couched, though it was, in the veiled language of symbol. Her eyes left the work in hand and followed Hiiaka and Wahine-oma’o as they turned and faced the path that climbed the pali wall.
Malae-ha’a-koa, lame, guileless, innocent of all transgression, meanwhile, sat and fished. He had cast afresh his triple-hooked line, blown from his mouth into the water the comminuted fragments of the shrimps whose bodies baited his hooks and, as he waited for a bite he chanted a song (to the god of good luck) that reached Hiiaka’s ear:
Pa mai ka makani o ka lele wa’a, e:
Makani kai ehu lalo o ka pali o Ki-pú.
I malenalena i Wai-niha i ka’u makau:
He i’a, he i’a na ka lawaia, na Malae-ha’a-koa, e!
TRANSLATION
A wind-squall drives the canoes in flight,
Dashing the spray ’gainst the cliff of Kipú.
Peace, waves, for my hook at Wai-niha:
Come, fish, to the hook of the fisher,
The hook of Malae-ha’a-koa!
Hiiaka’s answer to this was a song:
O Malae-ha’a-koa, lawaia o ka pali,
Keiki lawaia oe a Wai-niha,
Mo’opuna oe a Ka-nea-lani,
Lawaia ku pali o Haena;
Au umauma o ke ala haki;
He i’a na ka lawaia,
Na Malae-ha’a-koa, e.
TRANSLATION
I hail thee, Malae-ha’a-koa,
Thou fisherman of the cliffs.
As a youth you fished at Wai-niha;
Grandson thou to Ka-noa-lani,
Fishing now ’neath the bluffs of Haena,
Sometime breasting the steep mountain ladder.
Send fish, O Heaven, to this fisherman;
Send fish to Malae-ha’a-koa.
As if obedient to the charm of Hiiaka’s incantation, the breeze sank to a whisper and the ruffled surface of the ocean took on a calm that brought fish to the fisherman’s hooks.
Malae-ha’a-koa looked up from his work and, though he did not recognize Hiiaka, he had an intuitive sense that it was her power that had quieted the elements and, with a shrewd insight, he divined that she was of the Pele family. “It is you then that has made this day one of calm;” and he continued his address in song:
Ooe ia, e ka wahine ai laau o Puna,
He i’a, he i’a na ka lawaia,
Na na Akua wahine o Puna, e.
TRANSLATION
Thou art she, O tree-eater of Puna,
O branch of Wahine-kapu’s bread-tree.
Swarm, fish, to the fisherman’s hook—
Fish for the godlike woman of Puna.
Malae-ha’a-koa felt a genial thrill pervading his system; new vigor came to him; he found himself able to stand on his feet and walk. Some new and wonderful power had come into his life. In the first flush of his ecstacy, he gathered up his fishing tackle, thrust the hooks and lines into his basket and walked triumphantly home on his own feet. Without a word to his wife, he began to tear down a portion of the fence that enclosed the house-lot.
“What are you about?” exclaimed his wife; “tearing down our fence!… But what has happened to you? Here you are for the first time in many years able to walk on your feet!”
The man made no immediate reply, but kept on with his work. When she repeated her questionings and expressions of wonder, he quietly asked, “Have you not seen two women about the place?”
“There were two women who came this way,” she answered thoughtfully.
“Would you think it! They were divine beings,” he exclaimed in a tone of conviction. “We must spread for them a feast. You had better prepare some luau.”
Malae-ha’a-koa himself, alii as he was, with his own hands set about dressing and preparing a dog for the oven. This was his own token of service. At his command his people brought the material for an abundant feast.
Hiiaka saw from a distance the smoke of Malae-ha’a-koa’s imu and recognized the bustle preparatory to a feast, she exclaimed to her companion, “The lame man has saved the day.”
When the repast was nearing its end and the people had well eaten, Malae-ha’a-koa and his wife stood forth and led in the performance of a sacred dance, accompanying their rhythmic motions with a long mele that recited the deeds, the events, the mysteries that had marked Pele’s reign since the establishment of her dominion in Hawaii:
O kaua a Pele i haká i Kahiki,
Mahuka mai Pele i Hawaii;
Mahuka Pele i ona onohi,
I na lapa uwila,
E lapa i na mahina, la!
He kai moe nei no Pele,
No ke Akua;
He kai hoolale i na moku.
Ke Akua la i uka.
Haki nu’anu’a mai ka nalu mai Kahiki;
Popo’i aku i ke alo o Kilauea,
Ke kai huli i ke alo o Papa-lau-ahi.
Kanáka hea i ke ála—
Ka uka i Ola’a, ku’u moku lehua
I ka nahele o Puna—
A’e, a’e a noho.
Eia makou, kou lau kaula, la!
Elieli, kau mai!
He kai ehu ko Kohala-loa,
He kai kiei pali ko Kupehau,
Kai pi’i hala o ka aina:
Ke popo’i aku la i kai o Maui
Ke kai a ka Wahine ali’i,
O ke kai kui lehua a Pele,
A ko’u akua la, e!
Elieli, kau mai!
Hiiaka was so greatly impressed with this mele that she commanded Wahine-oma’o to restrain herself and observe the dignity of the occasion by eating more quietly. The young woman, thereupon, moderated her gusto and concluded her repast with less smacking of the lips; and the singers proceeded:
E oe mauna i ka ohu ka pali,
Kahá ka leo o ka ohi’a, uwé:
Ike au i ke ahi ai alá,
Elieli, kau mai!
Haupu ke akua li’ili’i;
Puka mai Pele, ke Akua nui,
Me Haumea, me Hiiaka,
O ke a ke ahi iki, e a!
He onohi no Pele,
Ka oaka o ka lani la, e!
Elieli, kau mai!
A Mauna-lei kui ka lei.
Lei Pele i ka i-e-i-e, la;
Wai hinu po’o o Hiiaka;
Holapu ili o Haumea.
Ua ono o Pele i kana i’a,
Honu iki, a-ï no’uno’u,
Kua papa’i o ka moana;
Ka eä nui, kua wawaka.
Hoolike i ka ai na Pele,
I na oaoaka oaka i ka lani, la!
Elieli, kau mai!
A Kaua’i, i ke olewa iluna,
A ka pua lana i kai o Wai-lua,
Naná mai Pele ilaila:
E waiho aku ana o Ahu.
E ála mai ana Mokihana,
Wai auau o Hiiaka.
Keehi aku Pele i ka ale kua loloa:
He onohi no Pele,
Ka oaka o ka Lani, la.
Elieli, kau mai!
Holo mai Pele mai ka Hikina,
Noho ka ua i Kumalae;
Ho’okú Pele ma i ke ki’i;
Noho i ke ki’i a Pele ma,
Kanaenae Pele ma ilaila;
Ka’i a huaka’i mai Pele
Honi i ke ala o ka hala,
Oia ka Pele a kui la.
He kunana hale ka Pu’u-lena,
He hale moe o Papa-lau-ahi,
He halau no Kilauea.
Elieli, kau mai!
Haule mai Pele mai Kahiki mai;
O ka hekili, o ke ola’i, o ka ua loku,
O ka ua páka o Ha’i-ha’i-lau-mea-iku
O na wahine i ka wao o Mau-kele, la.
Ho mai ana Pele li’u la, e;
Au miki, au huki ka ale kua loloa;
O ke ’Kua nui ke ku’i la iluna o ka lani;
Wahi’a ka papa ku, ka papa i ao’a,
Ka papa a Kane ma i he’e ai i Maui.—
Elieli, kau mai!
Ku kapa kai, e Kohala,
O ke ’Kua lapu, e Pu’u-loa,
Ke uwalo la i ka mea hele;
Ke Akua kui lehua o Kua-o-ka-la,
Kui mai ana i Maka-noni;
Ka la aku ho’i, e Kahuoi, i ka uka anu.
Ka hikina o ka La o Kumu-kahi ma.
O Kohala ke kaula’i ’na la,
E ka la pumehana ole o ka po;
I ka malama, la.
Elieli, kau mai!
He make no Aua’a-hea, i kalua ia
Ka ipu kaumaha a ke Akua,
Ka mamala kapu a na hoali’i.
Ku’i i ka lani ka hekili;
O ka oka’i nu’u o ke ao,
Aha o ka hala ia.
Líli ke Akua:
I pau i kou hoa, i oni i ke a;
Auhea pahoehoe la?
Noho iho la ka lau kaula
Elieli, kau mai!
A ikuwá mai ana ka pihe a ke akua
O kánaka nana i huli-pueo55 ka wai.
Waiho ana ilalo, lapu’u ka moe,
A kau la ilalo la pahoehoe ai oe.
Auwe! pahoehoe la, e holo e ka wa’a;
E ka’a ka mauna.
Ola Hiiaka i ka poli o Pele.
Ho’i aku e, ho’i aku iluna i ka maláma.
Iho mai a’ama i ke aka o kánaka;
Lawe’a a’ama, hao’na i ka eke;
Ku ana paiea ilo’ ka unuunu;
Lei ana paiea i ka hua limu-kala;
Kau ana paiea iluna i ka alá;
Nána i hanu, kaha ka ua koko:
Ha’i’na a’e ana ka mana
O ke Akua iwaho la, i líli.
Elieli, kau mai!
Pelei-oho-lani informs me that the following verses are found in another version of this mele immediately following verse 183:
TRANSLATION
Let the drum, tho torn, snarl out the law
Of the burning back, deep ocean’s gulf,
And God’s short bridge to heaven by the bow.
Ua lilí ka lani me ka ua;
Ua o’oki ka lani, poele ka honua
I ka hanau ana o na hoali’i:
Hemo mai he keiki kane;
Oili ka ua koko iluna.
O Ku-ihi-malanai-akea:
A ai, e Pele, i kou aina—
Ai’na ka ohi’a, ka ulu hala i kai o Lele-iwi.
He moku Pana-ewa, he oka wale Ka-ú;
He pu’u o Pele nui.
Kahi, e Pele, i kou aina, hoolewa ke au.
Elieli, kau mai!
Ku i Wai-lua ka pou hale a ka ipo;
Hoolono i ka uwalo, ka wawa nui
Ka ino a ka makani.
Ukiuki, kolo e, Kau-lana,
Ka ua lele aku a lele mai:
Lele a Puhi-lala, lele a kau-lana—
Nowai ke kanaenae?
No ka ohana a Haumea ke kanaenae.
Ku’u ’a e Kane ke ko’a:
I ka ia nei manawa ia.
No Pele, no Hiiaka no ka honua,
Ka honua ne’i, ka honua lewa,
Ka lani iluna.
He kahua i hele ia, he luana mau’u;
He kaunana ko, okana piko;
He hola moena, he lawe’na ipukai;
He ukuhi’na wai, he kaumaha ai:
He hainá no ka hale, e.
Noa, noa ia hale—ua a’e ’a,
Ua komohia no wai-honua.
Ka hale o Pele i noho ai.
Maka’ika’i mai Kini o ke Akua.
Ho’i aku e, ho’i aku iwaho ’na!
He kahuna pule ole, he li’i pule ole!
Mai komo wale mai i ka hale o Pele,
O ko’u Akua, la!
Elieli, kau mai!
Ua noa ka aina; e kapu keiki;
E kapu ke nui; e kahe na wai;
E ka haki ana, ku ka opeope;
O Kulipe’e noho i ka Lua;
A lele, e, na hoalii o Ku-wawá;
O Ku-haili-moe, o ka naele o Hawaii.
Akahi nei au a ho’i aku nei mai ou aku la,
A lele pakohana mai.
Elieli, kau mai!
TRANSLATION
Of Pele, her warfare in Kahiki
With her sister Na-maka-o-ka-ha’i;
Of her flight to the land of Hawaii,
A flight like the eye-shot of dawn,
A flight like the lightning’s flash,
That rivals the full of the moon!
Wonder and awe possess me!
For Pele the ocean sleeps afar,
For Pele the godlike one!
A surge now cradles the islands
And breaks on the land Hana-kahi,
O’erflooding the sands of Wai-o-lama.
God’s temple is roofed with the fingers,
And the thumb is lifted in earnest prayer
By the concourse met in the uplands.
High piles the surf that sweeps from Kahiki;
It breaks at the foot of Kilauea;
Is driven back by the hot lava plates.
Now calls from the wayside a human voice;
Your suitor, Goddess who rifled the bloom
From my Ola’an park of lehua
That smile in the lap of Heeia
And the wreath-goddess Kukuena.
What a bestial and nondescript mix-up
Embroiled our chief in the thickets of Puna!
What a passionate mounting! what a stay!
Small show of regard for your fellow peers!
Wonder and awe possess me!
Wild the sea-mist at Kohala-loa,
Sea roughed by the breeze from the upper hills,
Sea that peeps o’er the cliffs of Kupehau,
Invading the groves of pandamus;
It reaches the lowlands of Maui—
The sea of this Goddess, this Queen.
The lehuas are twisted like garlands
At the touch of this sea of god Pele;
For Pele, indeed, is my god.
Wonder and awe possess me!
Thou mountain wall all swathed in mist,
Now groans the mountain-apple tree;
I see a fire of blazing rocks;
I see an aged dame, who snores
On lava plate, now hot, now cold;
Now ’tis canoe in shape, well propped,
A chock ’neath bow, midships, astern;
Needs bail the waist where drains the bilge,
Else salt will crust like staring eye—
Gray roving eye of lawless Niheu.
Wonder and awe possess me!
On famed Moloka’i of Hina,
At the pali of Unu-ohua.
Where burn the lamps of Haupu,
Assemble the throng of little gods.
Then comes forth Pele, a great god,
Haumea and Hiiaka,
And Kukuena and Okaoka:
If the small fire burns, let it burn!
’Tis the beaming of Pele’s eye,
The flashing of heavenly fire.
Wonder and awe possess me!
Now to Nana’i of Ka-ula-hea;
At Mauna-lei Pele plaits her a wreath;
She plaits it of í-e-íe;
Hiiaka pelts head with ginger cone;
Haumea anoints her body;
And Pele eats with zest the flesh
From the turtle of Poli-hua—
A young thing, short in the neck,
Backed like a crab from the sea,
Like a sea-turtle plated and patterned—
Turned into meat for Pele,
Food for the heavenly flame.
Wonder and awe possess me!
From the ether above Kaua’i
To the blossoms afloat at Wailua
Ranges the flight of Pele’s gaze.
She sees Oahu floating afar;
Feels thirst for the wat’ry mirage;
Inhales the scent of mokihana—
The bath-water of Hiiaka.
She once had a contest there;
She had no tenant to guard the place.
Pele spurns with her feet the long waves;
They give back a flash like her eye,
A flash that’s repeated on high.
Wonder and awe possess me!
When Pele came voyaging from the east
And landed at Mo’o-kini—
The rain poured down at Ku-malae—
Her people set up an image,
And there they made their abode,
With the workmen who carve the canoe;
And they offered prayers and gave thanks.
Then Pele led them in journey
To the cape of Lele-iwi,
Where they breathed the incense of hala.
With Mokau-lele’s rich lehua
Goddess Pele weaved her a wreath.
They built a village at Pu’u-lena,
Her bedroom at Papa-lau-ahi,
A mighty hall at Kilauea.
Wonder and awe possess me!
When Pele fell through from Kahiki
Bitter the rain, lightning and quaking—
The big-dropped rain that shatters the leaves
Of the women folk in Mau-kele’s wilds.
Pele came in the dusk of the night,
With toss and sway of the long-backed waves.
The ocean heaved at Pele’s rush;
The great god thundered in heaven;
The strata of earth were uptorn;
The reef-plates broken, crushed; and rent
Was the surf-plank of Kane at Maui.
What a piling of portents by the Sun-god
Over the Green Lake Ka-hala-loa!
Wonder and awe possess me!
It was Wa’a gazed on the fishing fleet,
His watch-tower the cliffs of Kohala;
While the witch-ruler, O Pu’u-loa,
Entreated the wayfaring one,
And the goddess who gilds the lehua
Set aglow Maka-noni’s sunlit verge.
One day for gath’ring and choosing
The flowers devoted to worship,
The next day in upland frosty Huoï.
The earth-creatures glimmer and glow
While the eastern sun tops Kumu-kahi.
Sidewise the black crab springs from his hole
And Kohala spreads out ’neath the orb
That fails to give warmth to the night,
And the Sun hangs low in the sky,
And the clouds, they canopy heaven.
Wonder and awe possess me!
Aua’a-hea meets death, spite of
Steam-bath,—a boar unpurged of bristles—
And poultice hot of aheahea,
An herb that serves as a dish for the gods,
A tidbit for the king’s table.
Thunder resounds in the heavens; rain falls,
Bitter as tears of Ka-ula-hea;
Clouds, torn and ragged, fill the sky,
A piled-up ominous cloud-pillar,
A fabric reared by heaven’s rain-god—
A collect of evils was that.
The gods were aghast at the scandal:
For once Pele found herself duped;
For once Pele shifted in bed;
For once Pele drank to the dregs—
The cup was the brew of her consort;
Her bed the spikes of a-ä.
Stone-armored, passion had slaked.
Where then was her armor of stone?
The prophets, in congress assembled,
Consult on the rape of the goddess—
Red-headed Kane, Ku of the Trade-wind,
Compeers of Pele, consumers of trees,
The women of eight-fold incantations.
Wonder and awe possess me!
They stamp out the fire in the Pit;
“Stand shoulder to shoulder,” their cry;
“Shoulder to shoulder,” echoes the throng
On the heights of Mauli-ola,—
Where the green leaf distills the water
Men search for like hov’ring owls.
Chew thou the herb with thy friend,
I will offer mine to my god.
The fault of Pele’s condoned;
She lifts herself from her huddle in bed—
A couch far down in the Pit—
It now becomes plates of smooth lava,
How like the flight of a swift canoe
Is the flow of the pahoehoe,
As the mountain melts and rolls away!
Hiiaka, the darling of Pele,
Then soars aloft to the realms of light,
As the crab climbs up Kau-wiki—
The crab retreats from man’s shadow—
And when these black ones huddle together
They are easily clubbed with a stick;
Their bodies then are thrust in the bag.
As the gray crab tugs at the malo’s fold;
As he stands mid the heaped-up coral,
While round him wave the pods of rough moss,
Or he rests on the flat coral plate;
As, ta’en from the bag, he’s chewed into bait,
So men spit forth their bitter words.
How many guests at awa, Sir Crab?
Four gods, is the answer returned,
Tortoise, and Turtle, and Kukuau,
And Hinalea, and with them are
Apu-hihi and Hihi-wai, along with
Loli-pua and Loli-koko,
And Loli-ka’e and Lele-á.
Lele-a-makua fathered
The fisherman’s god, Kahi-kona.
When he breathed, red as blood poured the rain,
A sign of the power and wrath of the god.
Wonder and awe possess me!
The heavens were turmoiled with rain clouds,
The firmament sealed, earth black as midnight,
At the birth of the princely ones:
The heaven-urging princess was born;
Then came forth a man-child, a prince,
And the blood-red rain poured down.
Then was born Ku-walu and her lord,
Mala-nai, the far-breathing Trade-wind;
And thou, O Pele, then ate of thy land,
Consuming the groves of ohi’a
And Lele-iwi’s palms by the sea.
Pana-ewa still was a park;
Ka-ú was made a cinder-patch;
By her might Pele threw up a mountain.
Overwhelm your lands, O Pele;
Let your fire-streams flow!
Wonder and awe possess me!
Her lover’s house-post stands in Wai-lua;
There Pele hears a call that appeals;
’Tis a song voiced by Ulu-pó.
She utters no word to answer
This pleading babel of voices,
Now comes the first thrill to virgin flesh;
Impatient, the princeling crawls on his knees;
There’s plenteous downfall of tears, as when
Rain-columns fall, or men leap and dive,
Head-first, feet-first, into the flood.
These symbols will tell the tale, Hiiaka.
For whom do I make this offering of song?
For the ancient stock of Haumea.
God Kane planted the coral reefs;
A work that done in Pele’s time;
For Pele, for Hiiaka the land—
This solid ground that swings and floats
Beneath the o’erhanging arch of heaven.
At Ana-kú once met the gods; the road
Thither lay through Ha-ámo;—but now,
Its drum is dismantled, its fence o’erleaped;
The terrace trampled, a litter of straw,
Champed sugar-cane, heaped odds and ends;
A spread for mats; a clutter of dishes;
There’s dipping of water, serving of food.—
What a desecration of the house!
The house is degraded and trodden;
Its tabu place entered, deflowered—
Now stands a hall of common resort
Where once stood the house of Pele.
Now come the Pigmy Gods on a visit.
Be off! be gone from the place!
A prayerless priest, a prayerless king is yours:
Enter not prayerless the house of Pele.
For Pele, I swear it, is my god!
Wonder and awe possess me!
The tabu flags fluttered in place, just now;
And now, the flags are removed by you.
Men parcel the hills in the taro patch;
They parcel the clumps in the taro ditch:
The land goes free, the children secure;
Unvexed be the people; the waters run free;
Food-bundles shall bulk in the patch;
Kuli-pe’e shall keep to the Pit;
The princes of clamor shall fly away.
Give place to Ku, the smoother of lands,
The planter of forest and field.
I go in peace from your presence forth;
I came to you in my nakedness.
Wonder and awe possess me!