John Keolamaka‘ainānakalāhuiokalani Lake
John Keolamaka‘ainanakalāhuiokalani Lake Born on Maui, John Lake moved to Oahu in 1954 to attend the University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa and is currently a member of the faculty of St. Louis High School. There is a tremendous clash today between the old values and modern values of Hawai‘i. With the creativity of the new styles and interpretations, the question today has become what is considered traditional hula? Today you have a lot of creative dances that exist for the sake of rhythm rather than the sake of language. Rhythm gives way to movement, movement gives way to theatrics, and theatrics give way to confusion. My first kumu in the formal training sense was Aunty Mā‘iki Aiu Lake. I had studied informally at the age of six under my great-grandaunt but my real training in the kahiko began under Mā‘iki. She taught me that the beauty of the hula is to come to terms with the essence of one’s self. She said that the Hawaiians call your inner light the manaʻo and it is the real source of your dancing. Your body is simply an expression of your manaʻo. When I joined the hālau in 1964 there were only two other male dancers enrolled in the school. The emphasis and public attention was on ‘auwana but my interest was on the traditional hula and I found Mā‘iki to be both gracious and steeped in knowledge. The central theme of the hālau was humility. Through humility everything is given to you. She defined the hula kahiko as the basic steps and styles passed down through the generations and we were expected to humble our own personalities to the dances. We were taught that hula expressed every sense: sight, hearing, feeling, tasting, and smelling. My affiliation and work with Aunty Edith Kanaka‘ole through many years, brought me to understand the value of Hawaiian traditions, the respect of self and others, and the dignity of our Hawaiian values and heritage. She taught me much in chanting as to the projection of voice, control over the language and breathing, and essentially the necessity of having feeling in your chant in what one has to convey. I began to teach in 1962 at St. Louis High School and in 1965 I was asked by some of my students to teach Hawaiian music. That turned into a Hawaiian glee club and eventually I began to train the students to dance in the hula style that I was taught. The greatest sacrifice I’ve made is family time. A hālau demands a tremendous amount of time. I try to balance this by making my family as much a part of the operation as possible. I give my time because to see a student really grasp the knowledge and tradition I am passing down is something special. It’s alright for the young kumu to take the traditional styles to their full zenith but they can’t forget the basic questions of hula which are: who am I dancing for, and what am I dancing about? The changes that have come about are exciting but are we sacrificing the discipline and definitions of kahiko with these changes? Creative discipline by the kumu of each generation was the keystone to all of the masses of unwritten literature that has been passed down through the chants. There has been creativity in every generation but the original thought and theme of the chant remained the same and this discipline and order that was taken for granted in the past is breaking down today.
Ma‘iki Aiu Lake and Coline Kaualoku Aiu Ferranti
Mā‘iki Aiu Lake Mā’iki Aiu Lake, teacher of the hula for thirty-seven years, is recognized as a mentor for many of Hawaiʻi’s outstanding young kumu hula. As far as my family was concerned the hula was a closed book. I came from a straight- laced, Christian family and most anything Hawaiian was not condoned. But in my family was a grandaunt named Helen Correa and to her the hula was great people accomplishing heroic deeds in everyday life. In the old days pageants were known as tableaus and she would be called upon by churches to organize Hawaiian tableaus because she knew the protocol. My tūtū taught me the mannerisms, the attitude, and the gentleness of the actual dance performance but my first formal teacher was Lokalia Montgomery. As I studied under her I learned that the kahiko could be performed without all the rituals. I didn’t have to be afraid and I didn’t have to compromise my Christian faith. I went to Aunty Lokalia at fifteen and at eighteen I was graduated traditionally as a dancer. In those days nobody carried the title of kumu hula. They were all musicians or composers or performers and when the elders were no longer around some of the teachers would improvise and put their own feelings into the dance. After my ‘ūniki I was trained by Lokalia to be a teacher and by the time I graduated I had started my family. I would dance in between my family life with Pua Almeida, Lena Guerrero, Andy Cummings, and anybody who needed a dancer when they entertained. In 1946 I was asked by my grandaunt to teach the church members at the Blessed Sacrament Church. I was so grateful for the extra money because now I could buy my children the little things besides only saving money for their education. I was still a young teacher feeling my way through classes and I would go home and try to remember the things that I was disappointed with in my education. When I studied with Aunty Lokalia there was no paper or pencil so when I’d come home I’d cry at the table trying to retain all that we had been taught. Then my Tūtū Helen would explain the kaona to me and she would open up a whole new world. The knowledge of the culture became very real and a part of modern everyday living but how many students had a Tūtū Helen waiting at home for them? There would be many questions that would be in my mind and my teachers would tell me they would be answered when the time came. Some things were left sitting in the air and my tūtū told me if it was meant for me it would be explained. It was a totally different way of learning back then because it was a totally different world and I don’t think it would work for the young people of today. Tūtū Kawena P uku‘i told me that we need written instructions these days because we don’t speak the language in our homes. So I had a blackboard put in which upset some of my kumu but I needed to teach vocabulary in order that my young people could understand what was being taught to them. I started putting everything into book form because I wanted them to be able to take notes home and study. I didn’t want them to suffer like I did because if you don’t know how to study, learning becomes only stressful. What I’ve tried to do with my career is standardize the methods of learning the hula and give it structure and credibility. The students must do the paper work or they are expelled, they must pass the monthly tests or they are expelled. I don’t consider myself a master but I’d like to believe the hālau is carrying on something that my elders have left me. Nona Beamer has given a title to the kahiko the young people of today are composing. She calls it contemporary kahiko and I go along with that. Kahiko is a record and reflection of the times it is created in and the kahiko that we look upon as traditional today was contemporary one hundred years ago. I encourage my young people today to compose their kahiko from what they see around them. Today is a part of life and a part of history and in a hundred years it will be considered traditional kahiko. Taken to an extreme there is some kahiko being danced today that is a combination of styles and innovations. We are seeing kahiko today with no history, no tradition, no trace of any original source. It is as if it has arisen from thin air. Sometimes everyone forgets what the hula is all about. But you come back and remember. I’ve forgotten many times what it really means but as you get older you find that it’s real and it’s there. The spirit of the kapuna will always be there. Coline Kaualoku Aiu Ferranti Coline Aiu, the daughter of Mā’iki Aiu Lake, teaches with her mother and resides part of each year in London and Honolulu. I have looked upon my mother’s hālau as a bridge from the modern world to a past world. We have tried to make the hula kahiko accessible to a modern generation. There is a responsibility in passing on the kahiko but the methodology of the study of the hula has to adapt to a new age, a new era, a new generation. My first formal teacher was my mother and the first two things I learned were respect and discipline. Respect for the things that I learned and discipline in myself to make a commitment to learn the hula correctly. You have to be committed to certain goals and not be swayed by popularity and trends. As a child I would help my mother make leis, press costumes and clean the hālau so the hula was something that became second nature to me. I think as you participate you study, so my childhood became an unconscious apprenticeship. I didn’t attend classes regularly until I was in high school and that’s when I began to perform. Other jobs started to come and in order for me to take them I had to attend classes to keep up my knowledge of the songs. In 1974 my mother became ill and I began to teach the teenagers for her because they were wild and energetic. I traditionally graduated as a teacher from my mother in 1972 but I don’t think I realized at that time the difficulty of teaching people. All of these minds are coming to learn from different levels and you have to find a way to communicate the knowledge so that it will be understood by all. Up until the age of fifteen, the students in our hālau must wear a uniform. They have to learn that they are not the teacher, they are coming to the teacher and that there is one mind and one voice to listen to in class. In their first month students are taught basic foot movements, the definitions of a hālau, basic hand motions, basic vocabulary, and on the last week of the month are tested on all of this. If they pass they are introduced to our dance notation system through simple hapa Haole songs and eventually Hawaiian songs. For every song that they learn, a research report must be turned in and the students are tested every month. The first year we translate the songs literally even if it’s in pidgin because pidgin is here to stay. We rotate hapa Haole and Hawaiian songs because too many times people forget the ‘auwana defines the kahiko and vice versa. Throughout all of this the students’ vocabulary is replenished weekly and is relevant to the songs they are learning. A hālau takes a student from ground zero and trains them. The students have to know that they are not just going to a studio but a school that develops the mind, body, and spirit, and that it’s going to take a great amount of patience on their part. All the books, teaching methods, mimeographed information and songs are categorized into four distinct levels of expertise. There is a method that has been developed by Martha Graham on how to study modern dance and that is what my mother and I have tried to do for the hula. Create a modern methodology that is orderly, logical, accessible, and yet loyal to the hula.
Adeline Nani Maunupau Lee
Nā Kumu Hula Adeline Nani Maunupau Lee - Nānā I Nā Loea Hula Volume 1 Page 87
Adeline Lee has dedicated twenty-nine years as a Hawaiiana instructor for the Department of Parks and Recreation, City and County of Honolulu. She currently resides in Kapahulu, O‘ahu. The best thing about my life today is that I am able to pass on my knowledge to an alaka‘i. The knowledge and tradition of the culture was given to me only to give out. How will people learn about and respect the culture if no one tells them about it? The responsibility of the kumu hula becomes then to choose someone who will be faithful to what is being passed down. I come from a family of eleven and we were all taught to sing and play instruments from childhood. My father Thomas Kananiokeaupunimālamalama Maunupau and my mother Eunice Keolamauloakamō‘i- wahineokamālamalama Molaka Maunupau taught us that you can be raised in a Western world but still remain a Hawaiian. We were all sent to Catholic private schools where we were told never to speak Hawaiian but when we arrived home the language was spoken fluently and constantly. My first kumu was my aunt Mrs. Baker. Family members would come and share with us any knowledge and training they had. I was trained at a very young age and we were taught to sing the Hawaiian mele by memory with the correct enunciation and pronunciation. In 1950 I joined the Department of Parks and Recreation and this was how I began to teach the hula. There was a required hula course that all the instructors had to attend and this was how I was able to learn under some of the great kumu hula of our culture. Nona Beamer taught us dances aimed specifically for children and more than that she showed us the joy of children and childhood. Tom Hiona taught us the names and styles of the different drum beats, and we were trained by Alice Keawekāne Garner in the comic side of the hula. Because we had to teach all ages of students, Aunty Mary Kawena Pūku‘i taught us a wide variety of traditional hula that was suitable for children and adults. In addition we were trained in hula ‘auwana and Hawaiian music by Aunty Lena Machado and John K. Almeida. Ten of us would go into these workshops and when we came out we would teach the same hula but it would be infused with our own personalities. Basically what I see being done today in hula kahiko is the same thing that was done in my time. Today s hula is very bombastic. Creative, individual personalities have always brought out the different aspects of the hula but they have never changed the hula. The hula is too vast for that. There are one hundred different steps to the traditional hula but the most you can use in one hula is six. What I see today is a revival of what was done before. The young people love their culture so much they want to bring it out. The teaching is so condensed today that in two hours a haumana must learn the chant, the step, the beat, and then the performance. In the end the students only want to learn the dance and not the entire preparation or performance of the hula. I credit my father for giving me my background in the Hawaiian culture but when I was growing up I didn’t appreciate that kind of discipline in my life. I used to wish he would just let us run free. Today I am so grateful for the direction he gave me.
Kathleen Malama Leleo Kathleen Leleo served as alaka'i to the late hula teacher Samuel (Kamuela) Nae‘ole of Waimanalo. She currently is affiliated with the Kalihi-Palama Culture and Arts Society as a hula instructor. When I think of traditional hula I think of Lokalia Montgomery and George Nā‘ope. There would have to be limitations on creativity if one is to go strictly traditional. The old style of traditional hula is vanishing and most of our kupunas that practiced it are gone. The hula of today is exciting but there’s not enough people alive today to show us or teach us what ancient hula was really like. It’s difficult to say what it is and what it is not. I became interested in hula at a very late age. My children were grown and all in school and there was nothing else for me to do. So I became a member of the Kalihi- Pālama Hawaiian Civic Club which my late brother founded. I became very interested in Hawaiiana and at this time, George Nā‘ope began his hula classes in Kalihi and the members of our club were encouraged to join. This was my start in hula. I studied with Uncle George for five years and I was trained in hula kahiko, hula ‘auwana, and chanting. We were never told what the chant was about so we did research on our own time. At the end of my fifth year of training I was graduated by Uncle George as a kumu hula. I went on to train under Samuel Nae‘ole and I found him to be someone who really cared about his dancers and how well each one did. He helped me to better myself in the hula ‘auwana. I remember when we went out to perform, Uncle Sam would charge a quarter for every mistake we made. He trained five of his students to become kumu hula and I was very fortunate to be one of those students. He stressed the importance of the mekona and the ‘okina, and he started our training by focusing on memorizing the chant, proper pronunciation, translation, expression, and significance of the chant or dance. Uncle Sam gave us the resources and we did the research. We would also create the dance and perform before him for his approval, and at the end of each chant or dance we were given a written test. When I was a haumāna, teaching looked easy, but I found the great difficulty of teaching to be communication. How do you communicate to a large group of restless and often uninterested children? There were times when Uncle Sam would call at the last minute and ask me to take over his classes. Unknowingly to me, he would hide outdoors and watch how I worked with the class. I guess he wanted to see if I was able to handle the classes without him. After the death of Uncle Sam in 1981, I was asked by the Kalihi-Pālama Culture and Arts Society to carry on his work in the Kalihi-Pālama area. I try to train my students the way Uncle George and Uncle Sam trained me. I consider myself between traditional and contemporary hula but I’ve always tried to respect the ancient hula. The history of hula is so clouded, for example there has always been a controversy over what the correct ‘uwehe step is. No one knows where the foot movements originated from or where the hula originated from.
Bill Ali‘iloa Lincoln In 1947 Bill Lincoln ran the largest and most influential hula studio in Hawaiʻi, employing such teachers as Ida Wong, Barbara Johnson, and Alice Keawekāne Garner. It wasn’t until I went to school for the first time that I began to speak English. The same was true for the Japanese, Chinese, Korean, and Portuguese students who attended the country school called Pohakuloa. The Hawaiian students would talk to each other in Hawaiian and the other students would converse with each other in their mother tongue. One group would be able to talk to the other group in broken English and today it is called pidgin English or as a Hawaiian would say namu-pa‘i-ʻai. The teachers told us to forget our languages and just speak the English language. This seemed impossible at that time but today it is the spoken language. My father was a rancher and foreman on one of the ranches in Kohala and that’s where my whole family was born. I was the last of four boys so I had a better chance to further my education. I went on to finish high school and that’s where I became interested in music. In those days it seemed like music was the only acceptable outlet for the Hawaiian culture. I began to listen to records by people like Sol Ho‘opi‘i, Sam Ku, George Kainapau, and Madame Alapa‘i. And a man named James Asia started to put on Hawaiian tableaus in Kohala that I thought were terrific. He started to give me singing parts in his tableaus and that’s when I first got interested in the hula. When I graduated from high school in 1931 I had decided to become a teacher. When I turned twenty I came to Honolulu but I didn’t have the money to get a degree so I started playing music' with Sam Alama and Johnny Almeida for five dollars a night. I met a man named Clarence Kinney who also produced Hawaiian tableaus and I began to appear regularly in his shows as the “Prince” opposite a lovely girl named Dorothy Dudoit. I was living in Waikīkī back then and some friends told me to open up a hula studio. I was working at Fort Shafter so I quit and took their advice since there was only the Betty Lei Studio in Waikīkī. I never studied under any teacher formally. I just watched and learned. As an entertainer I became associated with some of the foremost hula teachers of my time. In the course of my musical career, I learned informally under Papa Bray, Manuel Silva, ‘Iolani Luahine, Sally Wood Nālua‘i, Lokalia Montgomery, Henry Pa, Alice Keawekāne Garner, Katie Kapaona, Emily Zuttermeister, and Mary Kawena Pūku‘i. Eventually I opened a hula studio and hired teachers to conduct hula classes. After awhile they would go off on their own and I began to step in and take over some of the teaching duties. When I taught I tried to combine the motions of Mā‘iki Aiu, Rose Joshua, and Alice Keawekāne Garner into one style. In my day there were things you could do and you couldn’t do. The style was to dance very sedately with very little flair. Only five or ten dancers would dance at a time and they would be accompanied by drumming that did not overpower the dancers. But who of us can prove that this was the style of dance of our ancestors? Creativity and change has always been a part of kahiko. In Kohala we were never allowed to use shell, plastic, or store- bought leis but when I came to Honolulu in 1931 found that’s all anybody used. The dancing of today is very physical and that’s because of the influence of television and other Polynesian dances. But there is nothing that has been kept in books or in the Archives that proves kahiko was danced a certain way. All we have are pictures of dancers in poses. I think the most important thing was that I knew my Hawaiian and I am grateful to my ‘ohana for that. Some people get lost because they don’t know the language. But it’s hard for the young people to learn Hawaiian because it’s a foreign language today. From birth you live and speak one language and it’s hard to take on another.
Joan Lindsey Joan Lindsey, a niece of the late hula instructor Caroline Tuck, currently has her hula studios in Pearl City and Waipahu on O‘ahu I was always interested in the hula but I was raised by my Korean grandparents and they didn’t want anything to do with anything Hawaiian. When I was young I would go to Caroline Tuck’s studio and watch her conduct classes. At seventeen I asked her if I could enter her classes and this is how I started. Caroline never seemed to let anything bother her. She was interested in everybody and she had a tremendous amount of patience and encouragement. People would make derogatory statements about her but she would never turn around and reply. My aunt told me that if I could not respect other kumu and dancers that I would kill whatever enjoyment I had for my own work. I stayed with Caroline for two years until I had a chance to join Lena Guerrero. This was during the war time and she needed dancers so I auditioned even though I wasn’t very graceful. I think she kept me on because I smiled and looked like I was having fun even though I didn’t know what I was doing. Lena’s troupe was like a partnership with Lena as the director and Mae Loebenstein and Alice Keawekāne Garner directing us on certain numbers. After three years I went on to Lena Machado who wanted to go all out for showmanship. She would drive me to the point where I would ask myself why am I here and then we would all sit down at a pā‘ina and forget about all the scoldings. I studied under Lokalia Montgomery and I found her to be a brilliant and warm person but my training was informal and it was nothing like what Mā‘iki Aiu went through. The last kumu I studied under was an old man who came to me and who I only knew as Tutu Sam. Because I am a Christian I went through an incomplete ‘uniki with Tūtū Sam where we chanted prayers back and forth to each other in the hālau. I began to teach at the age of nineteen with my aunt because I admired her so much. She seemed to really enjoy her work and I wondered if it was all that fun. Of course it wasn’t but if you saw my aunt, you would think it was the easiest job in the world. A certain type of hula is good only if it is done in unison. Another type is good only if the audience understands the mele. I think it is more important for a dancer to be graceful and expressive as a soloist and that is something you really have to work at. I admire the young kumu of today because it takes time and commitment to come out with the creative hula that is going on today. The ancient hula of today is very gymnastical but during my time many of the kumus were afraid to tread into the creative areas that today’s kumu are going into. I feel ancient and modern are inappropriate terms when it comes to the hula because the dance is categorized by music, chant, and by each implement. It’s impossible to lump it all together and call one part ancient and another part modern. Sometimes there are definitions that cannot categorize when a certain era began and when it ended. As a result, I don’t think anybody can set up limits for creativity in kahiko. It is up to the kumu themselves. The more you stay in the hula, the more you realize that you are not going to learn everything overnight and you will go to your grave not knowing enough. It’s the natural philosophy of the race. But the hula is like every other body of knowledge in the world. Every other year somebody is always coming out with a book that contradicts what came out before.
Rose Look Rose Look has taught the hula for twenty-seven years and resides today in Ewa Beach, O‘ahu. In 1945 she produced an album and a single entitled “Darling Kuʻuipo” which became a theme song for her in the late 1940s. When I was growing up my father was very close to a Hawaiian family who lived on Pensacola Street called the Lamberts. My father loved to play his ‘ukulele and sing Hawaiian songs. His influence prompted me to learn the hula under Alice K. Garner at the age of thirteen. She was my first teacher and she was strict in the sense she made sure you danced the correct way. Her system was built on fundamentals and she was continually drilling us on the basics. I studied with Alice from age thirteen all through my intermediate school years until I graduated from high school. She was my biggest influence because she was my first and longest kumu. She was what I felt a dancer should be. Aunty Alice had an inner beauty that radiated out through her gestures and in her relationships with people and that’s what attracted me to her. I wanted to go into ‘ōlapa in a deeper way. At that time in ‘ōlapa dancing they did not take Orientals but Kamuela Nae‘ole talked to Lokalia Montgomery and so she interviewed me and accepted me into her class. Lokalia’s studio and home was on Charles Street. She would sit with me first and we would talk about all the ancient chants and Hawaiian history, then we would go into her hālau and she would explain the dances to me. I studied with Lokalia in private classes for one year and then I took a three-month course with Aunty Kau‘i Zuttermeister. Along the way as I was learning I realized that there was nobody who could say which kumu, which method, which step was the correct way. The Japanese have a classical line of dancing, the Chinese have a line, but what does the hula have? Who is to say which hula style is the right way? There is no one and this is sad. I began to teach in 1956 because I wanted to teach hula kahiko and ‘auwana as classical dances. When I started my career the hula was a dime-a-dozen thing. People would just pick it up, take one course, and start dancing immediately and as a result I’ve seen so many along the way that just abused the hula. I begin my youngest students with an introduction to what the hula is all about. I wanted to help children emotionally; I wanted to give them confidence in themselves. I just wanted to help the little keikis. A kumu has to pick up the feelings and emotions of her students. You cannot teach everyone the same, each student has to be handled in the particular way that draws the best out of them. I start to teach them basic steps once their attention span has matured enough. I don’t believe in yelling or embarrassing my students, I believe there has to be a better way of teaching. My advice to a young dancer is you have to be beautiful inside to do anything well. Beauty starts from within. You can have all the steps, all the physical attributes but unless you have an inner beauty you are just a person moving from side to side. Hula is beautiful and to portray it you must have a humility and respect for people. My goal throughout my life was to teach what I considered to be the right way of dancing hula. I think the biggest change that has come across the hula is that the kahiko being performed today is not what I had come to know as ancient hula. It is nothing like what was taught to me by my kumu and so I end up asking myself has the hula been changed or have I missed something along the way in my training?
Howell Kali‘ula Māhoe “Chinky” Māhoe established his halau Kawailiula four years ago and is presently teaching in Kailua, Oʻahu. The hula kahiko of today is a modernized form. To me, nobody knows how the hula was danced in ancient times. People can only retrace so much and what they recover has been interpreted to them by somebody else. When you enter some competitions today they categorize the kahiko into a certain period. To me the boundaries they set up are very ambiguous and inconsistent. Are you going to limit kahiko to the Kamehameha reign or set the limits at the Kalākaua reign? Why should one be included and the other excluded? Somebody at that time had to dream up the motions and the steps so why can’t the kumu create now because today’s kahiko has to be a combination of modern ideas and traditional movement. We wouldn’t be doing anything different than the kumu of fifty or a hundred years ago did not do themselves. After I graduated from Kailua High School, I began to work at the Kāne‘ohe Marine Base. I started to fall into a rut and I looked at all the people around me, and I told myself I was too young to be growing old. I worked at the Kāne‘ohe Marine Base for two and a half years and then I quit. I went down to the beach and I just wanted to be a bum. I bodysurfed, grew my hair long, and played ‘ukulele. After seeing a performance by Robert Cazimero’s Nā Kamalei, I went to see Robert and later Kaha‘i Topolinski to enroll in hula. I didn’t know that there were specific times for new members to be accepted into their hālaus and both told me to wait for the next registration. I was so anxious that I started training under Uncle George Nā‘ope at Kalihi-Pālama Culture & Arts Society. Uncle George would show us the motions and foot movement and we would just follow his lead. At that time I didn’t know anything and it was very hard for me to take in so much. Uncle George made the class a lot of fun. It wasn’t pressured and that’s what I needed at that time. A friend of mine who was also taking classes with Uncle George would come over and help me practice. He would remember the motions because everything was Greek to me. If it wasn’t for him I might have quit a long time ago. I studied under Uncle George for a year but Kalihi-Pālama was a community group and I felt I needed the structure of a hālau. I heard about Darryl Uupenui’s hālau Waimapuna, so I went to see him and he took me in. Darryl felt once you knew the basic steps then the hand motions would just come naturally. We would go through hours and hours of just working on those basic foot movements. When we started to dance Darryl would explain what hand motions should be used at the different points in the chant and he would show us the hand motions. Then he would pick one of the students, explain to the dancer what was to be done, and the rest of the class would follow the dancer. I began to teach in September of 1979 with a group of guys from the Kailua Madrigals. I went to Darryl for his consent and he said I could teach as long as it wasn’t hula taken from Waimāpuna. The students wanted kahiko so I went home and opened up the Pele and Hi‘iaka book and tried to find a chant that I could handle. The boys kept asking me for more numbers so I figured why not put together a hālau separate from the Madrigals. We started out with fourteen boys and by the third week we ended up with four. But those four stuck with me and we went out and did shows. You want the dedicated ones because everyone wants to dance and they disappear when they find out how much work it is. I liked the style of Waimāpuna so I fashioned our practices around Darryl’s practices. I figured if that’s what it took to be successful then that’s what we would do. Duplication of success I guess. I wanted my dancers to experience what I went through at Waimāpuna. My goal is competitions. To me that is the highlight and reward of dancing. Win or lose, just to be a part of it. I think the only thing that matters is that the aaudience appreciates the dance.
Kevin Michael Kapilialoha Mahoe
Kevin Michael Kapilialoha Mahoe “Chubby” Mahoe is the son of Arthur Keanahou Māhoe, Sr. and Abigail Kahiwalani Ka‘aloa Māhoe. He has taught the hula in Hawaii for the past thirteen years and is currently affiliated with the St. Andrews Cathedral of Honolulu and the Christian Hula Academy. I think I have to go back to an age when anybody starts to remember which was about three to four-years-old. Being at family parties I was always attracted to music and to rhythms. I was always attracted to sweet music, to music with heavy percussion. I listened to Harry Owens Orchestra, the chang-a-lang music of Elmer Lee and Uncle Jimmy Wong, and I found all of this music so refreshing. My father was invited to many of these kamaʻāina parties so I saw people like Flora Hayes and Uncle Rennie Burks dance; elegant men and women dancing. This respect for the classical Hawaiian music was instilled in me at a very young age but we were never taught the ancient ways because we were baptized and raised as Christians. I started off my training in the hula by watching my sister learn the kahiko in Kalihi Valley from a lady named Daisy Bell Young. We would make fun of my sister as all brothers will do but at the same time we were watching and learning. My first kumu was George Nā‘ope. When I was a fifth grader, he came to Pu‘uhale School to teach us a popular song for a pageant we were having. I met Nalani Kanaka‘ole when I was working for Waiākea Village and I learned two chants from her. It was many years between George and Nalani so in the interim I just watched other people dance and I watched their interpretations. There were very few male dancers because it was considered māhū to dance. So I admired the few men that did dance because their spirit seemed to transcend this type of criticism. I trained informally under hula master Henry Moikeha Pa while a member of the Prince Kūhiō Hawaiian Civic Club. In preparing for a concert Uncle Henry wanted us to build a kuahu for Laka, the goddess of the hula, and I couldn’t participate in it because of the religious convictions I felt within me. In my heart I felt I could not rightfully worship Jehovah and at the same time participate in the offering of prayer chants to Laka, Pele, or Hōpoe. I began to teach in 1970 when I became the social director at the Kaua‘i Surf Hotel. Every morning at ten o’clock we would teach the hotel guests how to dance simple songs like the “Hukilau” hula. It was tourist-oriented but it was a way for them to learn about the culture. I didn’t teach it kāpulu and I paid every respect to the hula. I had great respect for the people who came to learn because they wanted to learn about our culture and they were earnest and sincere. I didn’t feel it was a scam. The visitors are very interested in learning what we are all about. I think they are searching for a way to learn about our music, our dance, our food, our culture, and I think we owe them some kind of instruction to satisfy that hunger. In 1978 I formed the Lamalani Hula Academy in partnership with my dear friend Lahela Ka‘aihue. I took care of the books and trained the children while Lahela was responsible for the adults. Lahela and I parted, and I moved the Academy to Kawaiaha‘o Church where Madonna O’Rourke, a student of Henry Pa, became my helper. In time I was asked by St. Andrew’s to move to the Cathedral’s facilities and I’ve been here ever since. Our endeavor at the Academy is to worship God in the beauty of his Holiness. The hula is Hawaii’s most beautiful art and can certainly be used to display His magnificent handiwork. I wanted to respect God as my creator so I went into Scriptual hula. Can you see David and Goliath, the Nativity, the Songs of Solomon done to traditional hula? I felt if the missionaries had gone to the temples and asked the natives to put the Bible to hula kahiko, the Hawaiians would have accepted Christianity much faster and easier. The hula that I do today, the interpretation, the motions are all inspired by God. I am a student of the ancient and honorable art of the Hawaiian hula and not a kumu hula. 1 feel that only a very few can be acknowledged as such.
Nina Boyd Maxwell Nina Maxwell taught hula for the past nineteen years and is the kumu hula of the Pukalani Hula Hale in Maui. When I was young I was always nagging my father to let me learn the hula. He bought me a piano instead. I learned the piano but I kept nagging him. In the late 1930s and ’40s, hula was in a bad state of affairs and was not really respected. My grandmother was a lady-in-waiting for Lili‘uokalani so my father had seen the culture change tremendously. I don’t think he wanted me involved with hula because he had been so pained by the changes in the culture. Finally he took me to Elizabeth Lum Ho who was from the “old school”. There was no funny business in her class and my father was hoping the strict regimen would make me quit. Mrs. Lum Ho taught at home in Wailuku and she would begin the class by singing a mele. She would then tell you the story of the mele and then interpret the story with the dance. If she felt you should learn the entire mele then you would stay the entire day and if it took you three months to learn that one mele, you would be assigned that same mele for three months. Mrs. Lum Ho taught me traditional and modern hula and I studied under her for five years. After I graduated from Mrs. Lum Ho, she left Maui for O‘ahu and I went on to Emma Sharpe who trained me in hula ‘auwana. My kumu never really differed in their teaching style. Everything had to be perfect especially the enunciation and pronunciation of the mele. The knowledge was taught by constant repetition and we were expected to retain everything simply by watching and listening. Aunty Emma held her classes in a hall in back of the old Wailuku Gym. I was with Aunty Emma for four years and I was trained informally during this time by Aunty ‘Iolani Luahine in olioli. In 1964 my husband Charlie encouraged me to open a halau, so with the permission of Aunty Emma I began to teach on Maui. I wanted to teach because the hula is the record of Hawaii’s cultural past and the key to the mystery and richness of our islands. This is what I wanted to pass on to another generation of people of all ethnic backgrounds. The great battle that is going on today is, “Are we teaching and learning the traditional hula for the sake of performance or the sake of knowledge?” We don’t know the answer because there is a great void in the knowledge of our culture. But I can’t help but feel hopeful because I feel we are filling this void slowly but surely. A handful of resources are left to teach us and the “Hawaiian Renaissance” has helped to put the puzzle back a little bit more. We Hawaiians have gone through great changes in our recent history. Many of us were off- balanced and confused but we’ve re-awakened and regained our balance and I think the young Hawaiians of today are proud of who they are.
Edith Kawelohea Kapule McKinzie
Edith Kawelohea Kapule McKinzie Edith McKinzie is a member of the faculty of the Honolulu Community College and is researching, lecturing, and publishing in the area of Hawaiian culture. I first became interested in the hula because I grew up in a musical Hawaiian family. I was performing with my family before I ever entered formal training and my Aunty Mary who was a dancer for the hula master Antone Ka‘ō‘ō encouraged me to take up the hula. Since that time I have trained under several different kumu hula and each one had his or her influence on me and my style of the hula. I trained under Joseph ‘Īlālā‘ole for three years at Pālama Settlement, at Kulamanu in Kāhala, and at his home in Kapahulu. This was my first formal training and from him I learned hula kahiko. This entailed learning the basic hand motions and foot movements along with the names and symbolic references contained in each motion. The discipline under which this training occurred went beyond just a certain amount of time spent working at the dance. It included personal carriage, personal attitude, presentation of gestures and the necessary respect involved in the tradition of the dance. I am not certain who ‘Īlālā’ole’s teachers were; that was not an important question at the time. Later I trained under Eleanor Hiram Hoke for eight years, dancing professionally for her, performing in tableaus, and learning the drumming and the dances associated with the hula pahu, which was her specialty. Eleanor held classes at her studio in Mānoa. She had been a student of Keaka Kanahele and during the period I studied with her, she was occasionally assisted by Katie Nakaula. Upon completion of my training, I went through the process of an ‘ūniki. After a long period away from training in the hula, I returned to take lessons with Hoakalei Kamau‘u whose teacher has been ‘Iolani Luahine. This was a period of renewal and excellent reinforcement for me in hula kahiko. Hoakalei was the Director of the State Council on Hawaiian Heritage Dance program which allowed many students as well as teachers exposure to a variety of teachers and teaching styles. While performing with Hoakalei s group at the Bishop Museums Heritage Theatre in Waikiki, I had several opportunities to seriously discuss chants with Pele Pūku‘i Suganuma, an expert chanter, trained by her mother, by Malia Kau, and others. I studied chant under her direction and her sharing allowed me greater insight into the art of oli. I will always be grateful to Pele for the training I received and for her recommendation that led to my working with Edith Kanaka‘ole in the State Council’s Mele Project. During the last few years of her life, I was fortunate enough to spend a good deal of time with Aunty Edith Kanakaʻole, a master of many Hawaiian skills including hula and chant. I learned the basic chanting styles, a good deal of hula, composing, and she portrayed to me a fine example of a true Hawaiian and an outstanding kumu hula. Most of my training with her occurred at my home where she stayed when she visited O‘ahu. From Aunty Edith, as well as all of my teachers, I was taught to imitate their movements and sounds. I have taught extensively throughout the State of Hawai‘i, Midway, Guam, and Alaska, and other places; and hula continues to fulfill and provide me satisfaction. I enjoy working with young hula dancers and chanters. Teaching is an integral part of my life. I consider myself a traditionalist, but I teach both traditional and contemporary hula. My teaching reflects that which I learned from my teachers. Hula existed in a much different and smaller role when I was first learning than it does today when the value of it is being acknowledged by so many. To the kumu hula of today, I would remind them that every hula has a history, a story content, and a reason for existence. Don’t just pass along the motion. I would also say to the kumu and haumāna that the language is vital to comprehension and to the expansion of knowledge within the culture. To the students of today, I would say don’t expect your kumu hula to be your only source of learning in “na mea Hawaiʻi.” You have to seek knowledge diligently and invest energy if you wish to achieve excellence.
Samuel (Kamuela) Nae‘ole
Samuel (Kamuela) Nae‘ole The late Sam Naeʻole taught the hula in Hawaii for twenty-six years. He was affiliated with the Kalihi-Pālama Culture & Arts Society as a kumu hula and is credited with pioneering the hula in the Hawaiian Homestead of Waimanalo, O‘ahu. My mother and aunty were dream translators in the Hawaiian community and I told them I had dreamt I had been taken to a great house. Within the house was an old man who beckoned me to come in. They told me that this was a sign that I was the chosen one to carry on the spirit of the old man’s body. The next day I went to hula class and Lokalia (Montgomery) told me to stay late. She drove me out of Kapahulu and we came to the same house that I had dreamt of the night before. When we entered the home she was greeted by an old man who introduced himself as Joseph ‘Īlālā’ole. He was dying at the time and he had asked Lokalia to bring him a male student to train. My aunty Mary Ho was a kumu hula and my parents were musicians at the old Home in The Garden, but I wasn’t interested in the culture and when 1 graduated from Farrington High School in 1949 I knew nothing about it. I moved to Los Angeles and in 19511 came back home for a vacation. I was asked by other Hawai'i people in Los Angeles to study hula so I could come back and teach. So I went to the phone book and looked for a male teacher and the name I found was Tom Hiona. His studio was located on Maunakea and King Street and he charged twenty-five dollars a lesson. Tom had been trained by Kau‘i Zuttermeister but he was something original and extraordinary. His mind was always filled with ideas that raised the hula to higher ground. As far as I know he was the first person to produce tableaus and pageants that dealt with the culture in a deeper and more profound way. I stayed with Tom until 1952 when he closed his studio, and I went on to Ho‘oulu Davis in Kailua but within a year she left and I was out in the cold again. After Ho‘oulu I informally studied under Kawena Pūku‘i in Kaimukī. My father would take me to work with him at daybreak and I would be dropped off at St. Louis High School. From there I would walk to Mrs. Pūku‘i’s home and for three dollars I would be taught one song. She would ask me to choose four subjects to write about and this was how I was encouraged and trained to write hula songs and traditional chants. I went on to train informally under Kathy Nākaula, Joseph ‘Īlālā’ole, Pua Haʻaheo, and Ka‘o‘o, but my next formal teacher was Lokalia Montgomery. In 1954 Lokalia Montgomery charged a pre-paid tuition of four hundred dollars and I didn’t have the money. So I saved what I could and sold the only possession I had that was worth anything which was my piano. Lokalia lived off Kapahulu Avenue in a big white house and we were trained five days a week from 8:30 in the morning till 2:30 in the afternoon with a thirty- minute lunch. The majority of her students were Japanese from the University who were taking lessons as part of an Asian studies requirement for graduation. We would be trained in her big parlour where we were first taught the different beats on the ipu and then she would give us one chant to learn. We would recite the chant and she would correct us as we went along. In the old days the kumu would transfer their spirit into the body of their students but Lokalia did not believe in this. We were responsible for making our own implements so Lokalia’s husband Timothy taught us how to dye material, paint, and produce traditional Hawaiian crafts. I did not ‘ūniki with any of my teachers because the graduation ceremony with the traditional rituals was not popular back in the Forties and Fifties. If a student graduated traditionally their kumu would have to carry the burden if a haumāna broke a kapu and nobody really wanted any part of that. Today the emphasis seems to be on the ‘ūniki but my advice to the young dancers is go back to the kupuna to get your legitimacy. Degrees count for very little in the hula community. I began to teach in Waimanalo in 1955 with the encouragement of friends. I charged three dollars a month for each student, and I’ve tried to teach by nurturing the positive in my haumāna. I never had an abundance of anything but I’ve never had to endure a difficult, terrible period either. I’ve tried to teach the younger people the true knowledge of the hula and I’ve looked upon that as an opportunity. The hula that is being perpetuated today as the traditional hula of our culture is a figment of someone’s imagination. A great majority of the kumu today are only on the level of students and the result is that the modern audience of today has never seen the traditional hula. Hopefully, people will get tired of all this fluff and make an effort to start finding out what is authentic and what is baloney.
Sally Moanike‘alaonāpua and Makahikina Wood Nālua‘i
Sally Moanike‘alaonāpuamakahikrna Wood Nālua‘i Sally Wood Naluaʻi graduated from the same hula class of Lokalia Montgomery that produced Māʻiki Aiu Lake and Lani Kalama. When I returned from Monterey in 1960 I really had forgotten everything. I was told I would lose my talent if I didn’t continue to study and it was gone. When I came home I hugged my drum and ipu, and I said a little prayer and began to pah. And nothing came to me. I drummed and drummed, and then I started to hum along and as I continued I began to remember “Kaulīlua”. I was born on the island of Maui in the little town of Paia. I was brought up by my granduncle and grandaunt whose name was Kekuo‘okalani. We left Maui when I was eleven and in those days there were no planes but they had ships. The only ship I remember was the Claudine. This was an inter-island ship. We didn’t have money to pay for rooms so we stayed downstairs in the steerage with the selamoku and they fed us fish and sour poi. My cousin Hattie Au gave up her home in Kahana Bay for us to live in and when she moved to Lā‘ie, I went along with her. Lucy Munson was a friend of my cousin and she stayed with a family called the Logans down in Lā‘ie. Mr. Logan was her friend so she let Hattie rent a little house. This was where six of us women learned ancient hula under Lucy Munson and her two friends, Keaka Kanahele and Katie Nākaula. My training with Lucy Munson lasted three months and she gave us thirteen chants to study in thirteen classes. I was fifteen going on sixteen and when they started building a kuahu for the graduation, my grandaunt made me return to Kahana. In those days Kahana Bay was famous for fishing. There was only one store in the area but we could get a really good meal from the sea. I would go out with the people in the boats to fish and we would pull the nets in. We would go up into the mountains and catch ‘ōpae and ‘o‘opu, and we would haul taro down and pound it into poi. My grandaunt taught me how to work and I really enjoyed those days in Kahana. Pua Ha‘aheo held the fishing rights to Kahana Bay at that time and his sister and I were very close. She and I knew three chords on the ‘ukulele but we would serenade the houses on the beach during Christmas and New Year’s and that’s how we would raise money for the church. After I married my first husband and left Kahana, Pua Ha’aheo asked me to train under him. I stayed with Pua for six months and then I went on to Elizabeth Lau who taught modern hula in Kapahulu. Her kumu was Pualani Mossman and I payed twenty-five cents for a half-hour lesson. You would get six songs in a half hour and it was up to you to grab what you could get. In 1946 Aunty Rose Joshua asked me if I wanted to learn from Lokalia Montgomery and she told me to go down to Charles Street in Kapahulu where I would be expected. Lokalia had the greatest influence on me. There was something in her speaking and her kindness and the way she projected herself. Up until this time I had been only trained as an ‘ōlapa but she began to give me chants to learn. If we didn’t know them at class she’d make us repeat them until we got it right. Malia Kau of Moanalua helped to paka our voices to oli and after three months I graduated. We had our ‘ūniki in Lokalia’s backyard. She had built up a little green backdrop with a little stage and it was like going into a forest. I had begun teaching informally in 1941 at Kamehameha Housing Playground with Aunty Alice Namakelua but after my training with Lokalia I was asked by Dr. Swapp to teach for the Church College of Hawai‘i in Lā‘ie. This was how I met and became close friends with Kawena Pūku‘i. I remember when the competitions first started to come in and she didn’t like it. She said we had been given the hula to ho‘olaule‘a to share with one another but not to compete with one another. The hula kahiko has come from our kupuna and their kupuna. Some kumu say there are ninety steps to the kahiko and I never heard of that. To me there were sixteen steps and that was all I was taught. The basic steps have been changed so much that I cannot tell where they have come from. The kumu that I studied under encouraged creativity but it was a privilege that they gave to only a few, chosen students that they trusted. The problem we have today is that we have teachers who are creating within the hula kahiko that were never chosen or approved to create by any master teacher. They have approved themselves.
Alice Ku‘uleialohapoina‘ole Kanakaoluna Nāmakelua
Alice Ku‘uleialohapoina‘ole Kanakaoluna Nāmakelua Alice Nāmakelua, long recognized as the first lady of the Hawaiian slack-key guitar, retired in 1969 after teaching hula in the Honolulu City and County Department of Parks and Recreation for twenty-four years. I, Alice Ku‘uleialohapoina‘ole Kanakaoluna, the widow of the late Solomon Nāmakelua Nāhulanui of the island of Hawai‘i, was born on August 12, 1892. I grew up among the men who had survived the battles of Kamehameha to bring the islands under one ruler and some of these survivors were related to my parents and great-grandparents. Some of these men while relaxing would sing and reminisce about their life on the battlefield. These men had documented what they had gone through by putting their experiences into chants and these menfolks were the early dancers in the community. The men would hum a little tune and chant the stories of the battles. The only stringed instrument I saw used was the ‘ūkēkē. There was no such thing as a hālau in our community but one of my family who was pretty good at chanting started teaching a few of us little children to do a few simple dances. We lived in a lumber house near the bottom of Maunakea mountain faraway from any big town or city, so my companions were the birds by day and the kāhuli in the evenings. My parents were not entertainers but they sang for themselves and family gatherings. Our family had prayer services in the mornings and evenings and that’s when I learned to sing. In 1899 I moved to Kihalani above Laupāhoehoe where I was trained briefly by my uncle Joseph ʻĪlālā‘ole, in the hula. In 1901 I came to Honolulu and at the age of nine I was trained by my uncles. Back then there was no such thing as a studio and hula teachers were predominantly men. It wasn’t until after the arrival of the missionaries that women were allowed to dance hula so it was very hard for me to be trained in the hula outside my family. Through church socials down in Kaka‘ako I met Keahi Luahine and I went on to train under her. At the age of sixteen I was trained by my last hula instructor David Kaho‘aleawai Kaluhiakalani who served as a chanter for Prince Kūhiō. He advised me not to teach the ancient hula if I should venture out to teach. This is the reason why I’ve never taught the traditional hula. He warned me that if I forgot a single foot movement, hand motion, or word of a chant, I would be breaking a kapu and either myself or my student would physically suffer for it. In 1908 I was married against my wishes to a boy who was very jealous so I wasn’t permitted to do any dancing or singing for the next twelve years. But in 1945 I was offered a job with the Department of Parks and Recreation to teach hula ipu and I ended up retiring twenty-four years later in 1969. I basically taught ‘auana and I asked all my students what my uncles had asked me when I began. Did they want to become an instructor, an entertainer, or did they just want to do it for fun? I taught them the mele, then the translation of the mele, and then I trained them on cowboy handkerchiefs. If you can dance on a cowboy handkerchief you can call yourself a dancer. You must be able to perform everything on that space. I was taught by my uncles that the ‘uwehe step that is danced outward today should always be danced upward, and that turning your back on the audience is rude and impolite. Some of my students have seen variations of these traditional rules but if you want to learn from me you have to forget what you already have seen in your mind and eyes. If you cannot, then I cannot teach you. In 1905 at the age of thirteen I started to serve the last ruler of Hawai'i, the Queen Liliʻuokalani, and today I am ninety-two-years- old so it’s difficult for myself and other elderly people to understand this new hula of today. The majority of the hula that the present generation looks upon as ancient was created during the reign of King David Kalākaua. As we lost Hawaiʻi, we lost a great amount of our songs and dances and chants, and we are continuing to lose it. Today it seems we are losing almost everything Hawaiian about our culture; our language, our dress, our religion, and now our arts. I don’t consider what is being done today as Hawaiian hula. There is not much remaining that people my age enjoy and recognize. It is only exercising. It exists today only to keep modern audiences happy. I don’t see the hula being Hawaiian in the years to come. The people of Hawai‘i don’t know the Hawaiian language so there is no stability. I don’t want to offend any hula instructor because they have a right to create but there is no one around to keep them in line today. They are on their own. There are no boundaries or definitions anymore. You make the cake the way you want, I make the cake the way I want.
Harriet Nē Harriet Nē has taught the traditional hula on the island of Moloka‘i for the past twenty-two years. I was brought up in an atmosphere where male hula was taught. This was in the valley of Pelekunu on the east coast of Moloka‘i. I was born on O‘ahu but at four months I was taken back to Moloka‘i. I became interested in the hula at five because I had the opportunity to walk in and out of the hālau and watch the male dancers train. I had three uncles who had a hālau so I was permitted entrance. I learned to take my first steps to the beat of the pahu drum. My first kumu was Ka‘ō‘ō of Moloka‘i. He taught me that you cannot do anything unless you have the right feeling within you. You can feel the vibration when your thoughts about the hula are correct. Ka‘ō‘ō would get inspired by going down to the ocean and then up into the mountains. Sometimes I would play by the seashore and watch him. One time I asked him what he was doing and he said he was waiting for the spirit to come into him and inspire him so he would know how to express the words. I was five-years-old when I started with Ka‘ō‘ō and he believed in training early in the morning. We would begin to train when the sun rose in the east. He would tell me that the sun is shining and another day is beginning where you are going to learn something new. Your heart and mind must be wide open to the acceptance of these teachings and that means you must discipline yourself to be open. I stayed with Ka‘ō‘ō for nine years and then my family moved to Honolulu because Moloka‘i did not have a high school. We lived in Kaimukī on 9th Avenue and I went to a kumu named Kapele who was a big, husky hapa Haole who lived out in Kahalu‘u. Kapele gave every student special attention. He would encourage our strong points in class and work on our weaknesses out of class. I was confused at the time because my father was a Christian minister and he said I couldn’t be a Christian and dedicate myself to Laka at the same time. So after three years with Kapele he pulled me from the class. I went on to Enoka Paleka in Kapahulu but after two years my father again pulled me from classes. My last kumu was Nanawai who taught me down at the Lalani Hawaiian Village on Paoakalani Avenue in Waikīkī. Nanawai was very good but he was a dreamer. He used to say to dance the hula you have to be a dreamer because you have to imagine yourself in another world, you have to visualize the mo‘olelo and kaona of the chant. It took me seven years with Nanawai before I was able to ‘ūniki. I began teaching comic hula at age thirty-six because that’s all people were interested in at that time. In 1958 one of my uncles was dying at Lunalilo Home. I went to visit him and he asked me if I was teaching. I told him I was teaching children on Molokaʻi, and he instructed me to teach the Moloka’i Ku‘i and that it should be taught to the men of Molokaʻi first. He told me to come to the side of his bed and with a traditional Hawaiian ceremony he passed his talent onto me, the next generation in the family. I told him I didn’t know the Molokaʻi Kuʻi. He then got out of bed and performed the Moloka‘i Ku‘i step for me. He lay down on the bed and I think he was very happy because a few days later he passed away. I went home to Molokaʻi and I opened my hālau which was filled only with boys from Moloka‘i. When I was growing up my nickname was “Lovely Hula Hands”. My aunty would tell me to be proud of my hands and I was always conscious of them. I was always taught that the palms of your hands should always face up because if they are turned down you will lose all your talent. Every part of your body from your fingers to your feet should be signifying a part of your chant and I think that discipline is being lost. I think kahiko is becoming more commercialized. It’s alright for a student to take an unchoreographed kahiko chant and put motions to it as long as he or she understands and is faithful to each line in the chant. But there are kumu today that don’t understand the language and must learn it if they are going to continue. The language and the culture are the same. When I lived in Pelekunu I was exposed to a community that only spoke Hawaiian. When I moved from the valley I lived in a world that only spoke English and I began to lose my knowledge of the language. If you don’t know the language then you and your dancers are just making gestures. To me dancers are actors on a stage so in order to direct them a kumu must know the language, history, proper costuming, and the background of each dance. I have big arguments with kumu because they tell me we cannot stay traditional all the time. They say we have to move along with the times but it’s hard for me to see it their way.
Odelta NeSmith Born on the Big Island of Hawaiʻi and raised in Kalihi, O‘ahu, Odetta NeSmith has taught on Kaua‘i for nineteen years. I think we have to appreciate that the hula has been passed down to us through the hundreds of years and that it already has been altered and changed during those hundreds of years. We should let the new kumu take their turn in trying to improve it. Maybe what they’re doing is not an improvement but they are recording the modern influences of their time and I cannot believe our ancestors did not do the same when the kahiko was passed to them. I became interested in the hula because my parents were entertainers. I was born on the Big Island but we left in 1940 before the war and we lived with my aunt in Kalihi. In 1941 we moved to Kāne‘ohe where my mother sent us to Eleanor Hiram Hoke who was teaching at the Kāne‘ohe Community Center next door to Honey’s Inn. Entertainers need dancers and I came from a big family of girls. My mother said she wasn’t about to beat the bushes looking for dancers when she had them right in the house. I was thirteen at the time I was sent to Eleanor and the transition between child and teenager was a rebellious time for me. I grew up ashamed of being Hawaiian. I didn’t know what I was because I certainly didn’t enjoy being Hawaiian. I was lost and my parents couldn’t even help me understand who I was because they were just as confused. My mother often told me about the confusion she went through growing up. At school she was forbidden to speak Hawaiian and at home she was forbidden to speak English. In order to try and save her children from that kind of confusion we were not taught Hawaiian. I studied kahiko and ‘auwana under Eleanor for two years and it was a settling process for me. Because we were musicians, Aunty Alice Nāmakelua was a constant visitor at our house and I studied hula ‘auwana informally under her between 1950 and 1954. My last kumu was Pearl Keawe who has been my greatest influence. She seemed to always have time for me. We were taught in small groups so I wasn’t a number or a space to her. I was Odetta. I arrived on Kaua‘i in 1960 and in 1964 the county needed a teacher and Margaret ‘ Aipōalani suggested I do it. I jumped at the chance because I wanted to continue dancing. I wanted to teach the Hawaiian kids to be involved with the hula with or without money. It offers them stability and an identity. I found my identity through the hula and because of that I’m not ashamed to say I’m a Hawaiian today. We Hawaiians cannot wait around for changes to happen, we can’t hang back and sit in our houses and dream. If we need information then we should go to the library and read a book. I would have taught the Hawaiian kids for free because I didn’t want to see them suffer through the inhibited, unsure, unstable world that I lived through.
Puluelo Park Puluelo Park was born in Hoea, Kohala and moved to Watertown, O‘ahu at the age of nine. She established the Puamana Hula Studio in 1952 and currently resides in Kailua, O‘ahu. I remember when I was nine- years-old I went shopping with my mother down on Fort Street. I heard a man’s voice chanting and I followed it to the old Princess Theatre. I sat inside that dark theatre for hours listening to a man who turned out to be Tom Hiona while my mother was going crazy outside looking for me. As a youngster growing up in Kohala I was trained informally by my aunties, but my first formal teacher in the hula was Caroline Tuck of Honolulu. I was trained in hula ‘auwana and I was fascinated by her classes and her teaching techniques. Caroline would have her students flat on their backs with only their arms and hands extended upward, and in this position they would go through the motions of a dance. When I turned eleven I learned kahiko from a teacher that was so strict that I lost all interest in the hula for a period of years. After I married and began my family, I started to realize that the Hawaiian side of my children would be neglected if I didn’t bring our hula culture to them at a very tender age. So at the age of thirty I began to train under Lokalia Montgomery who lived in Kapahulu on Charles Street. I loved Lokalia’s way of teaching because what she taught me was free from the kapus and so there was never any fear of the hula when I studied with her. A usual class with Lokalia would begin with a talk session. She would tell me the story background and meaning of the particular mele we were going to learn that day. There was no sense of rush like today where we want the children to learn as much as possible in a certain amount of time. Not those days. She would chant the first three lines of the mele and I would repeat the lines back to her. After every three lines she would stop and give deeper explanations of each line and we would not go on to a new portion of the mele until I was comfortable with the first. My training with Lokalia was mostly kahiko and she said that her line was from Tūtū Keaka Kanahele and Mary Kawena Pūku‘i. At the same time I was being trained by Lokalia I was also being instructed by Aunty Katie Nākaula. I was trained in the kuahu style of chanting and dancing for a year and a half and I found her to be much different than Lokalia. She had been brought into the hula from childhood and she was always emphasizing the correct placement of the feet and hands. Lokalia was always worried about your posture and how you presented yourself. Aunty Kathy was more interested in how you put your dance across so I learned the motions and gestures of the dances almost immediately in her classes. I went through an ‘ūniki with Aunty Kathy but my mother prevented her from taking me through the rituals. Lokalia had a tremendous influence on me. She made me keep my head up and I danced proudly. She was always so calm and collected and she taught me to respect who I was. It was she who encouraged me to open my hālau. After my training with her a private recital was held at her hālau which was followed with a graduation pa‘ina. After the pa‘ina she told me, ‘My dear, you are to open your halau now, starting in your home.’ I opened Puamana Hula Studio on July 25, 1952 in Pālolo Valley and I began with five students who were mostly family. Because of family obligations I had to close the hālau in 1953 but in 1960 I re-opened the hālau in Hau‘ula and eventually moved it to Kailua. Today’s training emphasizes more physical expression of the ideas in the mele. Some of the hula kahiko today even resembles martial arts. The hula audience of old was made up of people who knew the hula and knew the language so the gestures of the dancers could be more subtle. Today’s kahiko is what the modern audience wants it to be but it’s not necessarily the hula of old. Each kumu in the past had their own style and you didn’t see it mixed with other cultures like it is today. Lokalia taught me that the old way is not the only way and that as a teacher, you must be creative but I feel this creativity has gotten out of hand. The older kumu have to step forward and draw the line of what is traditional. There is so much doubt today because the majority of us aren’t directly linked to the old days.
Liffie Keonaonaoku‘uipooleolani Johansen Pratt
Liffie KeonaonaokuTiipooleolani Johansen Pratt Leolani Pratt has taught the hula in Hawaiʻi for over twenty years and is a retired member of the Honolulu Department of Parks and Recreation, Hawaiiana Unit. She currently makes her home in Hawaiʻi Kai, O‘ahu. I was born in Kalapana, Puna, Hawai‘i, and was reared in the ways of old Hawai‘i. My mother, a native of Ka‘ū and Puna, was a full-blooded Hawaiian who saw everything through spiritual eyes. She had taught me at a very early age the spiritual aspects of Hawai‘i. We were told that we were the “offspring” of Pele and so we were very special children. My mothers maiden name was Elizabeth Waia‘u Waipā. My dad, from Oslo, Norway, learned the Hawaiian language before English. He brought his “old country” ways along with him because he was very strict with us. We were not allowed to dance or play the ‘ukulele around him. The desire to do these things was always with me but it was unheard of in my family. My mother had allowed me to have hula lessons but this was done in secrecy without my dad’s knowledge. At the age of six, I was taken to my first kumu hula. Her name was Aunty Mary Keahilīhau. Aunty Mary lived right next door to Edith Kanaka‘ole in Keaukaha and they would share the same hulas. After two years with her I went on to Rose Nuhi who also lived in Keaukaha, and I was taught the use of implements as well as more hula kahiko and ‘auwana. After Aunty Rose I moved back to Kalapana and lived with my granduncle Nāpua Kaukini. He, along with my mother, taught me a lot of chants about the land and Pele. At that time, all of the people of Kalapana and Ka‘u were related in some way and like me, they grew up respecting Pele as a grandmother and kupuna figure. Everything about her was beautiful. Later I studied the ‘ohelo dances under kumu hula Victoria Nuhi Wright in Pāhoa. Then I began to travel with my cousin, kumu hula Martha Waipā Ka‘iawe, with whom I had my ‘uniki in a modern ceremony. I studied informally under George Nā‘ope and Kauihealani Brandt, and after graduating from high school and college I moved to Honolulu and continued to dance at nightclubs and hotels. While studying with Aunty Rose Joshua, I related a dream that I had the night before. In this dream I was dancing on a heiau and Pele was dancing toward me with flames shooting from her eyes. Aunty Rose told me to go down to the Ala Wai Clubhouse to see this beautiful lady, Alice Kalāhui because I was the one she was looking for. Not knowing what I was getting myself into, I went. She then hired me to be a hula and ‘ukulele instructor with the Department of Parks and Recreation. I was pretty shocked at what was happening but she instructed me to report to the Kāhala Playground the next day to teach. I had never picked up an ‘ukulele in my life and here I was facing a class with a toy ‘ukulele in my hand and an ‘ukulele chord sheet in front of me. I taught the children C and G7 all day long. Aunty Alice trained me in the proper costuming, the dances of both the ali‘i and the gods and she taught me the different aspects of the culture. Many tears were shed by me because Aunty Alice was a very strict person and she expected perfection. I had never taken the hula seriously before this but with her I learned fast and well. She brought in some of the very best kumu hula to teach us their specialty among them Mary Kawena Pūku‘i. My parents were both pastors in a Hawaiian Christian Church in Keaukaha, Hawai‘i and for years I’ve had a spiritual battle going on within me. I was taught both the old Hawaiian religion and the Christian religion and I’ve tried to come to terms with this dual religion all my life. Today I am a born again Christian and an ordained Evangelist, and I’ve re-dedicated my hālau as a Christian hula hālau. Although I no longer do the chants of our kupuna, my God Almighty has been giving me some beautiful chants and songs for my hālau. The songs and mele are different but the hula is still being perpetuated.
Mary Abigail Kawena‘ulaokalanihi‘iakaikapoliopelekawahine‘aihonua Wiggin Pukū‘i
Mary Abigail Kawena‘ulaokalanihi‘iakaikapoliopelekawahineʻaihonua Wiggin Pūku‘i Mary Pūkuʻi, a living treasure of Hawaii, has published many books illuminating the Hawaiian culture. Among them is the Hawaiian Dictionary which she completed in 1957 with Dr. Samuel Elbert. Mentor of hula exponents such as the late ‘lolani Luahine and Lokalia Montgomery, she is widely recognized as the premier resource of the Hawaiian culture. Because of health problems, Mrs. Pūku‘i consented to having her daughter, Mrs. Pat Bacon, share her story with everyone. Kawena was born and raised in Ka‘u and her grandmother was a court dancer for Queen Emma so her mother and aunties danced and she was surrounded by it as she grew up. Her teachers ranged from her immediate relatives to Emma Fern, Keahi Luahine and her cousin Kapua, and Joseph ʻĪlālāʻole. Kawena’s father was from Salem, Massachusetts. She has always been grateful to him for allowing her to be raised Hawaiian by her grandmother. At the same time he would constantly entertain and educate her with stories of Salem and all of New England. In the days of her childhood, Hawaiian culture was suppressed and children were raised in the Western culture. My kahu hānai was one-half Haole and one-half Hawaiian, and was equally proud of each heritage. Today the young people look upon their Hawaiianess as something that has to be emphasized and accentuated. In my mother’s era the Hawaiian identity was something that was understood and even taken for granted. She always knew she was Hawaiian. Her whole life was centered on the preservation of the traditions of the Hawaiian culture. I think that was her motivation for learning the dance. She was always trying to save this and save that by telling the family don’t let that get lost. Her mind worked that way. People came up to her frequently because she was fluent in the language and asked her to do a lot of choreography and that’s how she began to teach. She began to teach in the early Twenties. By this time she had moved to Honolulu. My mother had a very inquiring mind and the benefit of that was it pushed her to get to the root of the traditions. She graduated traditionally with Keahi Luahine and Joseph ʻĪlālāʻole, and their influence on her was that they made her aware of the responsibility of teaching and dancing the hula. If she taught a dance to someone she wanted to see it done properly. She wanted to see the children carry on the culture. Kawena was a stickler for keeping the hula kahiko the way it was taught to her by her kumu. She was not one to rechoreograph a mele or a dance. If she wanted to create she would compose and choreograph a new mele and dance using the basic motions that had been taught to her by her kumu. She could see that Hawai‘i was changing quickly and she wanted her grandchildren and the young people of Hawai‘i to have a record of what once was. Her advice to me always was to stop, look, and listen. She was always telling me to take my time and not be impatient. Kawena was always writing and scribbling notes wherever she was, whatever she was doing, on whatever she could get her hands on. She used mostly four by six cards but I don’t dare throw out anything because I have found notes on things as obscure as the inside flap of an envelope. My mother felt that the next generation had to have some kind of record of the past so that the Hawai‘i that had been wouldn’t be entirely lost. She was always saying that she must write this down, there must be a record. She was always encouraging young people like Mā‘iki Aiu Lake and John Topolinski to read and write down everything in regards to Hawaiian culture because if one depends upon their memory, in time it will fade.
Ku‘ulei Pūnua Besides teaching hula on Kaua‘i for the past twenty-eight years, Kuulei Pūnua also entertains at the Sheraton Coconut Beach Hotel with her children. At the time of our learning we just did what we were told. We didn’t ask questions. I can remember very well that all of the dancers were very, very disciplined. We had to have a keen sense of memory. There were no tape recorders. We just practiced and practiced and practiced. When I was two-years-old I was taken by my mother to Elizabeth Pahukoa Lewandowski of Ke‘anae, Maui and she was my first kumu. She was one of the original Leilani Village dancers on Kūhiō Avenue. This was during World War II and she would teach me in her apartment. I studied with Aunty Elizabeth for a year-and-a-half and then I was taken to Ruby Ahakuelo. She had her studio on Smith Street and I would go to class after school. When I was nine-years- old I was taken by my mother to ‘Iolani Luahine who was in Kaka‘ako in the Forties. I had not seen anything like the training we were put through under ‘Iolani. We had to prepare ourselves by going to the ocean and gathering seaweed and we had to be very cautious that no one had their ma‘i at this time. Nothing was explained, we just did whatever we were told to do. Aunty Hoakalei Kamau‘u was a young girl at that time but she was the one that taught us the dances. What I remember most is that nothing was explained to us. I suppose it was because of our age so we were being protected. Background was not freely given so we had to learn everything by observing. We just learned whatever our kumu felt she wanted us to know. Everything depended on sound, memory, and our senses. When I was about twelve- years-old I graduated traditionally with Aunty ‘Iolani and the presentation was held at McKinley Auditorium. At the same time I was asked by Kent Ghirard to join his hula troupe. I learned everything I know about kahiko from Aunty To. When I went to Kent Ghirard, I learned everything about entertaining. This was when nobody could touch Kent Ghirard. It was the Fifties and he was the best. He was very explicit about our dancing, our routines, our appearance, and our mannerisms on stage. There is a difference between learning the hula as a dancer and as a performer. Every dancers hair had to be the same length and we were trained to even put on our make-up a certain way. We were trained to become professional dancers. In 1954 I moved to Kaua‘i. I had no intention of teaching the hula when I moved but I began with one student then two and so on. When I started teaching, many Hawaiians felt that there was kahunaism attached to the ancient hula so no one wanted to learn. But Aunty ‘Iolani taught me not to be afraid of the kahiko and Kaʻupena (Wong) told me to put my faith in the Lord and my kupuna and go forward. So I began to teach kahiko that was simple and fun because I felt all the fear was based on hearsay. If we Hawaiians don’t dance and teach the ancient hula how can we expect it to be perpetuated? If some of our kupuna like Aunty Hoakalei Kamauʻu, Aunty Edith Kanaka‘ole, Aunty Lokalia Montgomery and Aunty Mā‘iki Aiu Lake didn’t share their dances in the Seventies there would have been no way that the door would be open for everybody today. We cannot survive if we do not come together to share and acknowledge each other. The hula offers everything a Hawaiian should know and a Hawaiian is everyone that makes his home here. We are having a lot of people moving here and we must preserve our language. In New Zealand it is mandatory that all residents learn the language and the same should hold true for our islands. Without the language there is no culture.
Bella Richards The late Bella Richards, a respected hula resource, taught hula for over forty years. Born on the Big Island of Hawaiʻi, she later founded the Bella Richards' Hula Studio in Kailua, O‘ahu. I went through ‘ūniki exercises with Bella Kuamoʻo of Keaukaha. It was just a presentation. I graduated as a dancer, not a kumu. I studied with Bella for three years. We went to her house because in those times there was no such thing as a hālau. Hālau was not a freely-used word like it is today. It meant a very choice group of people. In a real hālau the students had to live with the kumu, eat and sleep with the kumu. I believe only those people can call themselves students of a hālau. My first teacher in the hula was my mother and she has been my most important influence because she was family. Her kumu was Elizabeth Beamer and I was taught piano and Hawaiian bass along with the dance. When I turned eight my father passed away and my mother said nobody must mourn. She packed us all up and sent us to Bella Kuamoʻo. Bella taught us the ten basic ‘ōlapa steps but she gave us no instruction in chanting. After several years of in-depth study with Bella, I was graduated as a dancer. Then I was sent to Mary Fujii, the mother of Edith Kanaka‘ole, who I studied under for the next two years. I learned a lot from Mrs. Fujii because her style of teaching was very strict. We would sit on the floor and the kumu would stand on our legs. Then we would stand in the doorway with our hands outstretched and ‘ami to the floor then back up. This was all to make our bodies flexible enough to dance the way our kumu expected us to dance. In those days you could not question the kumu. You just had to do what you were told. You had to listen to every word and watch every motion because when it came time to dance the kumu gave you little if any help. I began to teach in Hilo with my mother in 1935. What I remember about teaching was that the Hawaiian people I taught never took notes or wrote anything down. In my time we were trained to remember everything but today’s Hawaiians try to imitate that tradition without the disciplined training that we were given. My forte in teaching is the ‘auwana and to tell you the truth I wasn’t a very good dancer even though I had a good memory. I see myself in all my students and I tell them to concentrate on themselves. There is no future in trying to keep up with the “Jones’s”. I train my kids hard but I read once where Mikhail Baryshnikov practices seventeen hours a day and it gives me faith in my kumu. I am a contemporary kumu and I watch all the dance programs on PBS (Public Broadcasting System) and I put any ideas I get into my hula ‘auwana. But when I was young we were taught that the ‘ōlapa must be left as it was passed down. Today all the motions in the ‘ōlapa are created and I’m not saying this is right or wrong but it is not the ‘ōlapa that was performed by my kumu hula during my time. As a result I cannot judge the contemporary groups today because what I consider important in ‘olapa is not considered important anymore. I feel the ‘ōlapa that I knew is going down the drain. The kumu of today don’t know the language or the culture so they have created an entirely new dance to fit their needs.
Emma Kapiolani Farden Sharpe
Emma Kapiolani Farden Sharpe Emma Sharpe is a member of the Farden family of Maui and today makes her home in Lahaina. Mrs. Sharpe is credited with helping to pioneer the renaissance of the hula throughout the island of Maui. As a little girl of eight, I lived in the village of Pu‘unoa in Lahaina with a lot of Hawaiian families surrounding us. There was always a lot of dancing and a lot of music. I used to love to listen to their singing. But going towards the fence and looking over I would see people doing the hula. And I would always want to learn what they were doing. I would always see kupuna coming together and having a party and singing and dancing to their songs. That’s what really interested me since my dad couldn’t send me to a dancing school. You see what I was always interested in was the ballet. Since I couldn’t go to a school for ballet then I wanted to go to a school for hula. My family being musical with instruments such as the guitar, ‘ukulele, autoharp, mandolin, and piano; it was natural for me to want to be a dancer. I didn’t study with a kumu until I was fifteen-years-old because my father didn’t want me to dance. His only exposure to the hula was what was being danced on Lahaina Street and he didn’t want any of his children ever becoming involved with that. I wanted to learn the hula so badly but at that time the only hula that was performed was done at private parties. As far as I can remember I don’t think there was one hālau on Maui at that time. A neighbor of ours told me about her mother- in-law Kauhai Likua who was a dancer at the time of King Kalakāua’s reign. I went to see her but she refused to teach me. Kauhai at that time was a minister for the Church and she said she had danced once but she was doing God’s work now. I told her we were both children of God and when she died she would take all her knowledge with her. That helped to change her mind and for the next three years she taught me in secret because of her position in the Church. I was her one and only student. She taught no one before or after me. I would go to her home three times a week and I would always bring two leis with me. One would be for myself and the other would be for the goddess of the hula. She had one big room where she kept her hula things and I would be taught only in that room. She would teach me only on the days she was not preaching. I was taught hula ‘auwana but the words ‘auwana and kahiko were never used back then. I never knew any other type of hula existed but modern hula because that’s all that was danced on Maui. Now the ‘auwana that was taught to me had no music to it. It was taught to me simply by chanting. She would get her little ipu and paʻī the beat and chant the meles to me. She would talk to me briefly about each dance and then teach me the motions. While I was learning I had to follow certain kapus. I could not go into the ocean while I was menstruating and I could not go out with men. In order to enter the hālau I had to kāhea a certain phrase or I would not be allowed to enter. At the end of my training she had a little pā‘ina in which my family was invited. At the end of the meal she wrapped up all the leftover food and threw it into the ocean at Makena. This was done to purify everything that had come before. After I graduated I wanted to learn kahiko and the kumu I wanted to learn from was Joseph ‘Īlālā‘ole. He lived in Honolulu so during the next three summers I asked him four times to teach me a chant. Each time he turned me down and it hurt because I was so eager to learn. The next time I went to Honolulu I asked Aunty Ka Treadway to speak to him for me so she brought me to his house. He was sitting on the lawn on a white settee with his brother who was a minister. Uncle Joe’s brother rose when I entered and told him that I had provided entertainment and helped set up benefit shows for all churches on Maui and I deserved to be helped. At that point his wife who I think had the last say all along told Uncle Joe to take me in. From that day on I was his student. I would come to Honolulu every summer to teach at the University of Hawai‘i and I would live with Uncle Joe for one week before classes started. He taught me only kahiko and I wish he had lived long enough to teach me the hula kapu. I learned from Uncle Joe by just watching and listening. First he would show me the dance, then explain the mele, then he would pa‘i the drum, and this is how I learned. He sent me to Kawena Pūku‘i and I would show her a mele from Uncle Joe and she would give me the background on it. She used to kid me because I was always writing and drawing everything down but I told her when she and Uncle Joe passed away there would be something to pass on to the next generation. My sincere gratitude goes to these three kumu that gave so much to my life. I see steps today that I’ve never seen before. Steps are not precise and controlled today but long and outstretched. People ‘uehe outward today rather than upward and I’ve never seen an ancient dance before where the dancer falls to the floor and lays there. But this is what I’m seeing today. The hula of my time was not done for entertainment only but mainly to share the culture. I believe the Hawaiian people must teach and share their own culture. If we create, we must acknowledge what is a modern creation because the modern audience, left uninformed, will believe they have seen a traditional dance. The big problem of today is that many of our Hawaiian people themselves don’t know what is and is not traditionally Hawaiian in the hula.
Alicia Keolahou Keawekāne Smith
Alicia Keolahou Keawekane Smith Alicia Smith in collaboration with Mae Loebenstein, founded the Halau O Nā Maoli Pua located in Kalihi, O‘ahu. I go back to my na kupuna of the Kuni‘ohana of Waialua, O‘ahu, who were well-known at that time for their beautiful pageants and tableaus. Here I was born and as the saying goes, “I learned to dance before I could walk.” I grew up in the ‘ohana style of observing and learning quietly so everything would sink deep into the na‘au. I was taught not to be nīele or maha‘oi but to minamina and cherish the sense of values that was being passed on to me. I am the adopted daughter of Amos and Alice Kuni Keawekāne Garner whose father was the Reverend Joseph Kuni. Grandpa Kuni taught the ‘ohana to sing and dance and they traveled from island to island raising funds for the church. This was the start of mom’s hula and entertaining career. Singing and dancing was a means of livelihood for our family. Mom gave me the basic introduction and interest in the hula. My mom played music with Aunty Mae (Loebenstein) and Aunty Lena (Guerrero) and I became a dancer for Aunty Lena’s hula troupe. This was during World War II. We danced for the USO (United Service Organization), entertained at private parties, and performed at the Royal Hawaiian Hotel. At the age of fifteen, I was hired as a hula instructor at the YWCA (Young Women’s Christian Association) in Honolulu. Here I taught modern hula for twenty years until I resigned to open my own hula school called the Alicia Smith’s School of Polynesian Dancing. I taught almost every kind of Polynesian dancing there is. This continued for three years and at the end of this period I experienced a deep desire to improve my knowledge of my own Hawaiian culture. I searched for help in learning the old way of hula. It was then that I turned to Aunty Mae for help and I have learned a stronger discipline and spiritual guidance with her teaching. Together we started grooming seven little girls, the nā maoli pua, the real true flowers, and this in time blossomed into Halau O Nā Maoli Pua.
Pearl Keawe Souza Pearl Souza, daughter of Pearl Keawe, teaches hula in the Kalihi Valley area on the island of O‘ahu. I believe we have just scratched the surface of hula kahiko. In the coming years the modern kumu will progress to an even deeper level than today and it will be done more openly. The halaus today are performing dances that I have never seen before and I find it fascinating and admirable that they have brought out so much. I began with my aunt Caroline Tuck when I was three-years-old. I learned basic footwork, how to bend our knees and stay flat on the floor. We then learned the hand motions and interpretation. I learned mostly ‘auwana from Caroline and she taught me that in the hula the story is everything. The motions are there only to project the story. I am trying to carry on Caroline’s definition of the hula in my teaching today. I went on to my mother when I turned ten and it was from her that I learned my ancient hula. Back then kahiko and ‘auwana were not used to define the hula. It was ancient and modern. My mother carried on exactly what Caroline Tuck had been teaching me. The basic principle throughout my training was not to be selfish with the knowledge that I was being given. Whatever I learned was to be shared and passed along to whoever wanted to learn. It had to be shared or it would be lost. After three years I joined Kent Ghirard’s Hula Nani troupe where I was fortunate to meet Pauline Kekahuna, Nāpua Stevens, and Vickie Iʻi Rodrigues. Kent taught me the commercial aspect of the hula. We performed for tourists and we projected to them the Mainland image of Hawai‘i. I saw the better part of him come out when we performed in front of local audiences and he performed as you would expect from a true Hawaiian. He was Haole but his love for the hula was genuine. He taught me that there was a time and place for everything and there are things that can and cannot be said in the hula world. I began to teach in 1976 because I felt as a dancer I was lacking something. I specialize right now with little children and I’ve found through dancing, through the hula, I can get across a message clearer than when I speak. To me, the hula has nothing to do with physical beauty, it is how you project your feelings and if those feelings are genuine.
Keli‘i Tau‘ā Keli‘i Tau‘ā has taught the hula on O‘ahu for the past five years and currently makes his home in Kihei, Maui. I think the biggest stumbling block for the modern Hawaiian is the definition of who is and who is not Hawaiian. Many people still believe it is strictly a matter of race. Today being Hawaiian has more to do with a sincerity of feeling towards the fate of Hawai‘i than anything else. In 1970 I was teaching Hawaiiana for the Department of Education at Waimanalo Intermediate School. Aunty Nona Beamer was serving as my consultant. I was required to learn hula for teaching purposes and so Aunty Nona invited me to train under her informally. I stayed with her for a year and in 1972 Aunty Mā‘iki Aiu publicly announced that she would be holding classes for hula teachers. The hālau at that time was on Ke‘eaumoku Street and after some practices, I could hardly walk down the stairs of the second- floor studio. The “Hawaiian Renaissance” to coin a phrase of that time, was just starting to turn its wheels. Anything that was Hawaiian was a joy to learn. I think the greatest thing that I came to recognize was that hula was not just motions but Hawaiian life, language, and folklore. That was the greatest joy, being in a place where I was learning not only the dance but something about myself in relationship to the past Hawaiian culture. What was there, and what it could be in the future. More answers came from another kumu named Kau‘i Zuttermeister. I started studying intensively in 1973 with style and a feeling that I still possess today and transfer the stylings of Aunty Kau‘i to others. I started to teach in 1975. Two of my former classmates in Aunty Mā‘iki’s hālau, Robert Cazimero, and John Topolinski were really getting into men’s hula and it was exciting to me. There had been men’s hula when we were learning but there weren’t hālaus as we understand it today. They set the pace and helped to establish respectability for men to dance. My approach was to show that hula was physical and demanding and required dedication and learning. That’s how in 1978 I ended up with a hālau of fifty- five men, half of them college or professional football players. My work has centered on kahiko because ‘auwana, as the word indicates, can be created by anyone, anytime, anywhere. My definition of hula kahiko is that of Edith Kanakaʻole’s. It would have to be movements passed down from generation to generation. In the old days we were taught to wait for the right time but in today’s society the opportunity for knowledge is so great that it behooves each student to search out all opportunities. At the same time, the student has to be committed and dedicated. I’d rather see the student free to go after what they really want than be frustrated waiting. The young kumu are criticized for their commerciality but the older people have to realize that there are exorbitant costs to be met. The expenses of 1983 are not the same as in the Forties and Fifties, and they have to be paid if the hālaus are to survive. It has been said that a culture dies if creativity stops. I am happy to see the young perpetuating the culture and traditions for in them is the future of Hawai‘i nei.
John R. Kahai Topolinski
John R. Kaha‘i Topolinski Kahai Topolinski, kumu hula for Ka Pā Hula Hawaii, has taught traditional hula on O‘ahu for the past ten years. Mrs. (Kawena) Pūku‘i told me that hula is not only for our people. It is for anyone who has the desire. You do not have to be Hawaiian to dance. If you want it to live, you must give it to everybody so that it can create a better understanding about Hawai‘i and the culture. The fact that non-Hawaiians want to learn the dance should be a compliment. When I went away to college on the Mainland, I was asked to dance at a “get together” of Hawai‘i students. And I couldn’t. The remark was of course, I am Hawaiian but can’t even do the national dance. That was the spark that told me to come back home and learn to dance. In 1971 I met Aunty Mā‘iki Aiu Lake and she became my first kumu hula. I studied under Aunty Ma‘iki for two-and- a-half years and she was a very positive influence on my life. She was very strict in her hālau but at the same time very giving. She would explain the dance out thoroughly, clarifying the abstract motions and meanings and giving us the background on the kaona of each mele. I graduated traditionally from Aunty Mā’iki in 1973 and I went on to study informally under Henry Pa, Sally Wood Nālua‘i, and Kawena Pūku‘i. Looking back I feel that all my kumu were equal in their influence on me because they each opened up a facet of the hula that I was unaware of. Mā’iki gave me the confidence that I was kumu hula material and she gave me my foundation in the hula. Uncle Henry showed me how to create variations in the dance by combining foot movements to create a nice, balanced picture. Sally Wood Nālua‘i trained me in the drum techniques of Pua Ha‘aheo, and Kawena Pūku‘i passed on to me an in-depth philosophy of the hula. Her daughters Pat and Pele taught me how to chant and create in the traditional framework using traditional Hawaiian motions as opposed to Western dance motions. Of my kumu I have been with Mrs. Pūku‘i and her family for eight years which has been my longest training relationship, and my most memorable experience. There have been many times when I have been troubled and searching for knowledge and her family has always been there for me. My kumu taught me that in the hula you must treat everything, animate and inanimate, with respect or you will be defiling them. I saw the disloyalty of some haumāna as they abused what had been freely given to them, and I don’t think some of my kumu ever understood these changes of loyalties. It made them apprehensive of opening up and sharing their knowledge. I began to teach in 1973 because I wanted to restore the male image in the hula that had been lacking for so many years. The greatest change in the hula had been the influence of Western ideas and dance movements on the traditional hula. Women were dancing like men and vice versa and that is the change that I strongly opposed. I had been taught that the Hawaiian traditional dance is based on the ethic that the male and female are opposites. They exist to complement each other like the Oriental yin and yang. In 1973 there were too many of these changes that were coming into the hula that were not Hawaiian, and I felt the traditional hula was becoming lost and unrecognizable for the generations to come. Today we’ve reached a plateau in the Hawaiian culture and I forsee our future as being a battle between preserving tradition as opposed to its dilution. How can we keep the creativity of our young, individualistic kumu within the context of the traditional hula? The new kumu of Hawai‘i are no longer masters of their art. They are creating a new traditional hula that appeals to the appetite of the masses. Today the masters of the art of the traditional hula is the public.
Nā Kumu Hula Alexa Vaught - Nānā I Nā Loea Hula Volume 1 Page 139
Alexa Vaught studied hula from the age of eight till when she married at twenty-one. She currently makes her home in Kihei, Maui. When I was in the third grade, Aunty Emma Sharpe was one of the third grade teachers. I was raised by my grandparents so one day I went home and I told my grandfather that I wanted to take hula. Being from a big family, my grandfather told me there wasn’t any money for hula lessons. I told him don’t worry, if I have to work I’ll work for it. I later discovered that Aunty Emma’s husband was a relative of my grandmother. Aunty Emma told me that because I was family she would not charge me. Instead I would pay her a dollar a year and I would help her load her car for class and dust the room. In this way I would pay for my lessons. When I got to high school, I assisted her in training men, boys, tūtūs, and whoever needed help in her classes. This was my way of trying to repay her. She would have classes in Wailuku. I would take one room and hold class while she would take another. I think Aunty Emma taught mainly ‘auwana because nobody in the Forties and Fifties wanted to learn kahiko. If she planned any kahiko classes, students would just cut the class. Aunty Emma was strict but yet she had a lot of patience and that’s what I admire her for. If she found someone that wanted to dance but couldn’t afford to pay for the lessons, she would give them the opportunity to dance. She has been the greatest influence in my life. She was a positive person and she constantly tried to encourage the good points in a person to bring out the positive side.
John Pi‘ilani Watkins The late John Piilani Watkins, born in ‘Ewa, O‘ahu in the area which today is Honolulu Airport, became interested in the hula at the age of ten and was trained by his grandmother Lokalia Kaahumanu Ho‘oulu. He was the star of the Germaine Polynesian Luau Show until his death in 1983. When I was starting out in the hula and for a long time after, it was not considered right for a man to be teaching the hula. People would talk and there was a time early in my career when I wanted to leave the hula. But I always felt that this was a gift from my ‘ohana and as long as I was unmarried I would carry this talent. This is the reason I’ve remained single till today. I think it was the music that brought me into the dance. When I heard the chants I immediately felt it was something that I should learn because it was so beautiful. Grandma knew she was getting old and the tradition in our family was to pass the knowledge on before you die. My grandmother was the keeper of the keys for Luka the Queen, and she interpreted dreams and signs for the Queen. She had a book filled with history and chants and traditions that was supposed to go to me at her death. She had tried passing it on to the whole family but nobody wanted it so I was her last chance. I lived with my grandmother for awhile and I remember very vividly another lady coming to visit my grandmother and together the two of them would chant. Everyday they would wear their hair up but when they chanted they would let their hair down and it would fall all over their bodies. My grandmother wanted me to learn kahiko because I was the next in line to be the caretaker of Kamehameha’s body. I was supposed to learn the chant that would allow me to cross the waters and then I would have to rub his body with oils. I was very young at the time and I really didn’t understand the kahiko but my grandmother told me not to worry because it would all come to me when it was time. She said that when she was living she couldn’t do anything for me but when she left that’s when I would know. But my mother was a very strong Christian and after awhile she grew afraid for me and forced my grandmother to stop the lessons. From 1951-53 I joined the Army and served in Korea and during that time my grandmother passed away and the book was lost with her. After her death I began to have dreams. Everything came to me in dreams. I would be standing on a hill looking down at a great pond of water, tossing tl leaves into it. I would see dances, I would see costumes, and I would see symbols. Even till today I still have these dreams. At the age of sixteen, I was connected with the Salvation Army and we would travel and deliver coffee. After awhile people started asking for entertainment so I started training dancers at a family home in Damon Tract and at my grandmother’s home in Nānākuli. I got together a few people and we would put together a show of hula ‘auwana. When I graduated from Farrington High School I went on a vacation to Hana. Hana had been the birthplace of my father who died when I was seven and that was the start of my composing and my popularity as a songwriter. I got a job, training the dancers at the Hotel Hana and I ended up staying there for seven years. As the kumu hula of the John Pi‘ilani Watkins Polynesian Dance Studio, I think the best thing I’ve ever done is that I’ve taken kids off the street who were into drugs and trained them in the hula and other Polynesian dances. Many of them are all over the world working now and doing well. When I saw the kahiko being danced at the Merrie Monarch Festival I felt like I had missed something in my life and I wanted to learn more. I think what the young people of today are doing is terrific but the kumu should go back and do research on the history of each dance so they can stay within the guidelines of the dance. I believe we have to find a common ground between teaching the children for purely the sake of education, and training the student to be a professional Polynesian dancer who can make a living when he goes off into the world. The children have to be sent off with something more than just memories of a competition or a class.
Leiana Long Woodside Leiana Woodside is the daughter of Ida Pakulani Long of Maui and the sister of Mae Loebenstein and Kāhili Cummings. She is currently affiliated with the Queen Emma Summer Palace in Nuʻuanu, Oʻahu. I was the seventh of seven girls in my family and was born and reared on Maui in an area called Kauahea; the same area which Kahekili used as his practice ground for combat. Our house was situated just below Kahekili’s heiau Hale Ki‘i. My father Henry Keao Long was originally from Kilauea, Kaua‘i, and my mother was Ida Pakulani Ka‘aihue-Kaianui Long. Mama was a Maui girl and in her early years she was a hula student of Kamawa‘e of Maui. Later she became a kumu hula herself. Therefore, I don’t suppose I had a choice about learning the hula. Everyone in the family, brothers and sisters alike, learned the hula under Mamas tutorage. Mama was a very strict kumu hula but I suppose I have yet to meet someone of my vintage or earlier whose kumu hula was not strict. We had to dance with bended knees, elbows up, head turned toward the extended hand, with eyes looking up beyond the fingertips. If our basic hula exercises were not exactly as she taught them then the pū‘ili was the next boss. It came flying so quickly, I used to swear she had the fastest hands on Maui. As children, my sisters and I would dance the hula on the heiau Hale Ki‘i. Tom Hiona lived down the road from us, and I remember seeing him as a young boy dancing the hula on the same heiau. I remember asking my mother about her hula training. I had not yet heard of the book The Unwritten Literature of Hawaiʻi on Maui and she unfolded a story which seemed to me at that time to be embarrassing, strange, and exotic. She mentioned the ‘ailolo ceremony and while I did not see the ritual, I did see her on several occasions, picking at the po‘opua‘a and eating the lolo. She also mentioned the cleansing rituals of bathing in the sea at midnight and returning to the hālau which was an open lanai with coconut leaves for a roof. In the middle of that lānai was a fire pit around which the hula students slept on lau hala mats with their feet towards the fire. She said they were taught that the strength of the hula was in the footwork, and if the feet were strong the rest of the dancer was strong. She told me, ‘Today, you go to a hula hālau and learn the basic steps and hula choreography all together with your kumu hula but in my days we dreamt our hula. When I fell asleep I heard drumming and chanting and in my dreams I’d see myself dancing a whole, new hula, over and over again, all through the night until the crow of the rooster at dawn. I awoke and remembered everything that was shown to me in the dream. The next day at hula class the kumu would pa‘i his ipu, the po‘opua‘a would kāhea and we all danced in unison the same hula that I had dreamt of the night before. If a student appeared unsure of the dance, the kumu knew that the student had gone ‘auana the night before, and that student had to go through a whole cleansing ritual again or was asked to leave the hālau.’ She also said that in her time the prime age for hula dancing was considered between three and twelve-years-old. The children within this age group were reserved for the ancient kapu-kapu or sacred temple dances because they were believed to be clean and pure and therefore dedicated to the gods. The dances of the children beyond this age group were more ‘auana and so their movements were allowed to be more descriptive. For many years I kept these accounts of my mother’s past hidden with mixed feelings. In 19511 went to the Library of Hawai‘i and asked if they had any books on traditional Hawaiian chants and dances, and the librarian handed me The Unwritten Literature of Hawaiʻi. Imagine my surprise when feasting my eyes on this recorded aspect of Hawaii’s history. My whole inside just surged with understanding, pride, and love for my mother. Another memory I have is watching Mama’s hula classes and I was especially fascinated with one of her students. The student’s name was Alice Mahi and she would later become Alice Keawekāne Garner. At the age of five I would walk around the yard and in my dreams I promised myself that one day I was going to be a beautiful hula dancer just like Alice Mahi. But as I grew older my idol became my sister Mae Loebenstein who at that time was dancing at the Royal Hawaiian Hotel with Mama and Daddy Bray. Several times a year she would return to Maui and my mother wanted us to keep abreast of what was happening with the hula in Honolulu; so Mae would hold hula classes everyday during her visit. Back then the Royal Hawaiian Hotel was “the” spot in the Hawaiian Islands where the elite from all over the world met, and because Mae danced there I wanted to learn everything she had to teach us. I tried to emulate every motion she taught to the nth degree. In 1945 I married and moved to Honolulu to live with my sister Mae in Kaimuki. She was a neighbor of Lena Guerrero and it was through Lena that I began to perform. Lena asked me to train with her and when I turned twenty-one I began dancing with her hula group The Waikiki Girls at the Royal. In those days you had to dance in many locations in one night. You might start at the cocktail hour at the Moana Hotel, go to a nine o’clock floor show at the Royal Hawaiian, then go to the eleven o’clock show at Don the Beachcomber’s. In the end we had to change in the car as we drove to each place. When you arrived at the hotel you just grabbed your things and ran from the car onto the stage just in time to the accompaniment of the musical fanfare. Back in the Forties and Fifties the hālaus were called hula troupes and the kumus thought nothing of sharing their haumāna. As a result it was easy for me to study informally under people like Alice Mahi, ‘Iolani Luahine, Joseph Kahaulilio, and Sally Wood Nālua‘i. There were times when we even helped our kumu hula choreograph some of our hula. In 1947 I started my first hula class teaching a group of Punahou School teachers. One of them lived in an apartment across the campus and we met there for classes. I encourage my haumana to create what they feel. Some of the old kumu feel their way is the only way of dancing. They say that traditional motions and dances have been handed down from generation to generation without changes. I don’t believe that’s the way it was done because it doesn’t explain the great variety we have in our chants and dances. If everything had been passed down without change our dance would be so monotonous. Our ancestors must have created on their own or we wouldn’t have such beauty in the culture. Today the hula is being learned by people of all races, some with more interest than the Hawaiians themselves, and the wonderful thing about it is that the hula has helped these other races understand the Hawaiian a little more socially and culturally. We have lost a lot but we still have a lot left. If the kupuna were here today surely they would be writing chants and perhaps choreographing dances about things that inspire them in today’s world. May this same inspiration and tradition be allowed to continue in our young people of today.
Pattye Kealohalani Wright
Paltye Kealohalani Wright Born and raised in Missouri, Pattye Wright arrived in Hawaiʻi fifteen years ago and has taught the hula in Kailua, O‘ahu since 1973. Bella Richards has been my greatest influence. Her style epitomizes my ideal of hula - very low, very soft, very fluid. The highest compliment I can receive is for someone to approach me after watching my dancers perform and tell me they know that Bella was my kumu hula. When I arrived in Hawaiʻi in 1968 from the Midwest, my first hula experience was to see Beverly Noa dance. I was so moved by the experience that I decided I wanted to learn the hula. I studied informally with Carolyn Miller as an introduction to the dance for newcomers. Soon I realized my interests were much deeper and more compelling. At this point I saw a performance of the Kailua Madrigals and Bella was introduced as the teacher and choreographer of the group. I was so impressed that I telephoned her the next day to ask if she would take me into her classes. She informed me that she did not accept adults because ‘they don’t practice, they don’t remember, and they don’t have stamina.’ She preferred young people because they didn’t have as many distractions in their lives and because they had bodies that could more readily be molded. I kept pleading and begging until she finally consented to my attending the next class session. The first great accomplishment of my dancing career was merely surviving my early months with Bella. When 1 arrived that first morning she placed me in the front row with her senior dancers. We practiced from nine a. m. to three p. m. without a break. I was literally on my hands and knees when I got home. I felt so ignorant because of the gaffes and errors of protocol I made - mistakes that seemed so obvious to everyone else. These were things that a kumu and a haumāna know by osmosis but that I had to actually study and learn. I studied with Bella as a formal student until 1975. It was about this time while attending a hula workshop I was approached by Aunty Edith Kanakaʻole. Aunty Edith advised me that I must learn the language if I had a sincere desire to understand the hula. I spent three years at the University of Hawai‘i studying the Hawaiian language and related subjects. The new knowledge was a revelation for me. I felt like a light had been turned on in a dark room. It clarified many ambiguous, gray areas that had been perplexing to me. The importance of the ancient chants in a hula dancer’s education became very clear. Bella had chosen to teach very little kahiko. I now realized that my hula education was something like a house without a foundation. I wanted the structure that the kahiko could give me so I went back to Bella for her consent. She led me to Lani Kalama with whom I am still privileged to study under. It is Aunty Lani who has given me my foundation in the hula kahiko. In 1971 Bella permitted me to teach under her guidance and in 1975 she gave me her approval to open a studio of my own. I try to pass on to my haumāna what my kumu passed down to me — that the hula is a living form and you must share a little bit of your emotions and your past to make it live. Too many dancers do not learn the language. They dance their routines mechanically and they kill the life of the song and the life of the hula. When Aunty ‘Iolani (Luahine) danced, the whole mele seemed to be acted out inside of her. She projected her imagination and heart out into the audience and I rarely see that kind of emotion in kahiko today. My advice to the people of the Hawaiian community is to not take this culture and heritage for granted. Perhaps because I was brought up in another culture I look at the situation with a special concern. Too many people today assume that cultural resources like Bella will always be around to be appreciated and they are mistaken.
Jan Kahoku Yoneda In 1975 Jan Yoneda, a Hawaiian resource teacher for the DOE Central O'ahu District, along with her hula sister Marilyn Leimomi Ho co-founded their hālau Pōhai Nā Pua O Laka. My first kumu hula was Mrs. Anna Like who was like “family” to me. We lived in Kalihi at the time and her daughter Edna had a small group of performing dancers. The hula I learned back then was primarily ‘auwana, and most of what I learned was performed in hula shows and family parties. Anna taught me from age three to about age twelve but as a teenager I lost interest in hula. I went on to college but it wasn’t until I turned twenty-one that I renewed my interest in the hula. I signed up for hula lessons with Mrs. Danie Hanohano who was teaching at a satellite session for Aunty Hoakalei Kamauʻu in Pearl City. I was with Danie for about six months and it was from this session that I got my first introduction to the foundations of hula kahiko. I was referred to Aunty Hoakalei by Mrs. Hanohano and I began to study and learn various hula styles and mele under her direction. She shared with me her knowledge of the chants, the hula movements, and most importantly the discipline that was required in hula. She was forever challenging me to be better than I thought I could ever be. I continued under Aunty Hoakalei for six years until she decided that I should become a kumu hula for the State Foundation on Culture and the Arts. I never wanted to be a kumu. All I wanted to do was dance. I enjoy dancing and learning about the chants. The body motions and mental requirements of hula excite me and that was enough for me at the time. So I talked with Aunty Hoakalei and told her of my reluctance to become a kumu hula, and she looked at me and said it’s not my decision to make and we left it at that. I believe that there are forces in my life influencing me to go in a certain direction or take a certain path. In 1975 Aunty Hoakalei was in charge of the State Foundation’s hula conferences and she decided that I would be a kumu for the conference at Leeward Community College. She had assembled all the hula teachers, and at that particular conference there were Henry Pa, and George Holokai, real hula masters; and there I was among all these “greats” with no teaching background. Her first words to the audience were, ‘Kumu hula, Jan Yoneda.’ She had more confidence in me than I had in myself but when I heard those words I knew a new path had opened up for me. After the conference she gave me a certificate that acknowledged I was a kumu hula and with her permission I began to teach the students of Radford and Moanalua High School. It was at this point that I began to work closely with Mrs. Marilyn Leimomi Ho who was an assistant to Aunty Hoakalei, and I credit Leimomi with teaching me the human side of the hula. She taught me the courtesies and the protocol within the hula, and she not only preached them but she modeled them for me in her life. It was from all this sharing that we formed our hālau Pōhai Nā Pua O Laka and began to teach together. I don’t have a style that is unique to Jan Yoneda because my dancing is pretty much what has been taught to me. I make a very strong and conscientious effort to duplicate what has been handed down to me. However, I do take unchoreographed chants and address simple, stylistic movements to the words based on my past training. Through Leimomi I’ve met Aunty Edith McKinzie and she’s shown me that to be a kumu, your education in the hula cannot be sporadic or final. You have to work constantly to improve yourself and expand your knowledge. You have to be totally submerged in hula because when you take the title of kumu you must take all of it’s responsibilities as well. To me the history and legends of our heritage live on in the hula. People, places, events are all perpetuated in the mele and the key to it all is the language. If our haumāna can internalize what we teach them so that it becomes a part of their lives today then that’s all that matters to me. By developing a healthy respect for our heritage, the haumāna develops a higher degree of self- respect as well. The applause of an audience is wonderful to the haumāna and the kumu hula but at some point both must remember why they are dancing.
Nā Kumu Hula Keith Kalani Akana - Nānā I Nā Loea Hula Volume 2 Page 8
Keith Kalani Akana A teacher for the Hawaiian Immersion Program at Waiau Elementary School, Kalani Akana is kumu hula of Ka Pā Hula Hoʻoheno Hawaʻi established in 1987. In school I didn’t consider myself a good hula dancer and I didn’t think I had a strong voice since I flunked concert glee. But I listened to the chanting of Ho‘oulu Richards, Nona Beamer. Hoakalei Kaniauʻu and Kalena Silva and they became my models. It wasn’t talent but I believe it took hard work and dedication that developed my voice. When I was a sophomore at the Kamehameha Schools, I was hired by my teacher Sarah Quick as an aide for Hawaiian language but I also helped Hoʻoulu Richards teach hula to the students in the school’s Explorations Program. I was really shy but she compelled me to teach. She ingrained poise and confidence in me. Watching the effect she had on the students kindled my interest in hula as a teaching tool to reach children. Shortly after, my relative Palani Kahala, a fellow Hawaiian language student and classmate, persuaded me to learn hula from him. One afternoon in Aunty Nona Beamer’s room, he started teaching me the rudiments of hula. Aunty Nona was very supportive of us by giving us access to her files and her advice. She even entered us in a hula competition at St. Andrews Priory in 1974. That’s where I first saw Kahaʻi Topolinski’s men perform. They were masculine and powerful. After graduating in 1975 I wanted to paddle canoe but I saw a newspaper ad for hula classes from Ka Pā Hula Hawaii. Remembering Kahaʻi’s men’s hula, I signed up and traveled all the way to the Waiāhole Poi Factory where the classes were held. Kahaʻi has been my kumu ever since. Kahaʻi engrained in me the love for the traditions of hula; particularly how it’s passed down from kumu to kumu and through family. I was especially touched by his treatment of his family chants. I could see the direct tie between kumu, family, and the past. As a history buff he brings a great knowledge to each of his hula. He touched not only the emotional but the intellectual cord within me. He taught me how to discover my positive Hawaiian self. I had what they call a huʻelepo ceremony. It was a private and small ceremony held at noon. It was attended by Kahaʻi, the family, and myself. We had those special ʻailolo foods, chanting, and pule. I observed a kapu period prior to the performance test and we had a small paʻina. Kahaʻi was very gracious. He allowed me to take workshops from other people. I started taking chanting lessons from Kalena Silva and attended Aunty Edith Kanakaʻole’s workshops. Also I learned from Aunty Edith McKinzie whenever she conducted workshops for the State Council on Hawaiian Heritage. I was fortunate to receive a scholarship at the University of Hawaiʻi in Hawaiian language from the Kamehameha Schools. I saw hula and chant as a vehicle to reach the Hawaiian youth but language is what tied it all together. I use this knowledge and my abilities in language to explain to the students the stories brought alive through the hula. Hula gave me an arena to internalize and ruminate on the meaning, kaona, and language. I don’t like the term “hula kahiko.” We always used the word “hula ʻōlapa” in our hālau. Hula kahiko technically means “old hula” and I don’t like stereotyping hula as being something old. Our people had a name for every hula by its type and style: hula noho, hula ʻulīʻulī, hula palm, hula ʻālaʻapapa, and so on. A hula person must know all these kinds of hula. So hula kahiko is a broad term that is not linguistically correct and I think it’s too stifling because it doesn’t account for the traditional kinds of hula and for hula that we need to branch off into. There are four important elements to become a successful kumu hula. First, language is the key for any aspiring kumu hula. Young people have an advantage because they can decide early on to learn the language. Secondly, whether they ʻūniki or not, they need a kumu or a mentor to turn to. That’s why we have the word kumu, meaning the source. If a person doesn’t have a kumu or a mentor, they’re going to flounder. Thirdly, a young kumu has to develop a style and creatively develop something unique that makes him/her a little different. And lastly, every kumu has to have and preserve the tradition of their hālau. If I teach a dance from my hālau, it’s my obligation to teach the exact way I learned the dance. That my kumu is satisfied and approves of what I do is an accomplishment. Graduation is one way that the kumu acknowledges the student. Anyone can graduate if they put on a good show but the proof is if you can continue to please your kumu. If I didn’t do that, then there’s really no sense of me even continuing. I have my masters, degree and soon I would like to start on my doctorate. But I can truthfully say, of all the formal Western style education that I’ve had, there’s greater satisfaction in the formal traditional graduation and training of hula. There’s a lot more pride, a lot more satisfaction. You receive much more than you can ever give. I’ve come to the realization that you cannot compare a degree with what you really get from the hula which is the pride of knowing that you are continuing a tradition. “I saw hula and chant as a vehicle to reach the Hawaiian youth but language is what tied it all together. ”
Cecilia Kawaiokawa‘awa‘a Akim
Nā Kumu Hula Cecilia Kawaiokawa‘awa‘a Akim - Nānā I Nā Loea Hula Volume 2 Page 10
Cecilia Kawaiokawa‘awa‘a Akim Cecilia Akim has taught the hula for over twenty-five years and is presently teaching at the Nuʻuanu Day Care Center with her kumu hula, Hoakalei Kamauʻu. How do you teach somebody who does not know the language? I’ve seen a lot of misinterpretations of dances. They don't understand the beauty of what the chant is talking about. Our old chants are in Hawaiian and today s students need to understand the Hawaiian language to know what they’re dancing about especially because the motions are very simple. “Kawika” is a beautiful chant because the vocabulary is there, the poetry is there, the history is there. The romanticism, an important part of our cultural heritage, is there. It’s all there. As a dancer you’re painting a picture. You put into motion our oral history. My mom took me to learn hula from Aunty ʻIolani Luahine when I was three or four-years-old. I stayed with her for about six years until she retired from teaching and moved back to Kona. The girls she taught were eight to twenty years older than me. She had me dance with all of them. We performed all over Waikiki and different places. I learned both kahiko and ‘auana from Aunty ‘Io. She taught us dances like “Little Brown Gal” so we could learn basic hula motions and how to be a little more graceful. We learned our kāhea and mele while learning the dance. It was very repetitious. We would go over it again and again. When Aunty ‘Io retired, I went to Aunty Pele Pukui. I think because I was so young, Aunty Pele gave me private classes. Her fundamental steps were the same as Aunty ʻIo’s. Aunty Pele reviewed the dances that I had learned with Aunty ‘Io so that she knew which ones I had learned. With her I learned more numbers, many with implements, and she worked on my chanting for the hula noho. After about a year and a half she suggested that I go to another teacher. So at fourteen I went to George Nā‘ope and stayed with him for over seven years until he moved back to Hilo. That was the first time that I was actually in a class with other dancers who were the same age as me. Uncle George had a studio a few blocks from my home in Kalihi. So why stay home and help my mother clean house when I could go down to the hula studio and help Uncle George? I literally hung out at the studio and danced with all of his classes. After Uncle George moved to Hilo, I couldn’t find any other teacher. So I freelanced on my own doing the shows at the International Market Place with Uncle Johnny Watkins, Aunty Lydia Wong, and Aunty Louise Freeman. After I graduated from high school, I went to the University of Hawai‘i and I dropped out of hula completely. When Aunty Hoakalei started classes for the State Foundation on Culture and the Arts, I went back to hula. The purpose of the classes was to train dancers to be teachers and that’s what I’ve done. Being with Aunty Hoakalei is a continuation of Aunty ‘Io. Her style of teaching is the same. I am very comfortable with Aunty Hoakalei. She’s a different person from Aunty ‘Io but she’s just as beautiful. When she did “Aia Lā ‘O Pele,” it was like going back to the days of my youth with Aunty 'Io. I’ve remained with Aunty Hoakalei since 1969 and I’m still learning with her. “As a dancer you’re painting a picture. You put into motion our oral history.” 10 Cecilia Kawaiokawa awaa Akim
Leialoha Amina and Nani Lim Yap
Nā Kumu Hula Leialoha Amina and Nani Lim Yap - Nānā I Nā Loea Hula Volume 2 Page 13
Leialoha Amina Leialoha Amina resides on O‘ahu and travels to the Big Island to instruct at the hālau with her sister Nani Lim Yap. My first kumu hula was my mother Mary Ami Neula Lim. It was on our veranda that Nani and I first got our introduction to hula. She showed us various hula numbers but the one that I fondly remember was a hula noho with one pūʻili. To watch my mother sway to and fro, to hear the rhythm of the pūʻili, and the melodic chanting was inspiring. I desperately wanted to learn. The first day with Mother was fantastic. But in the days thereafter she introduced the concept of discipline by whacking us with a bamboo when we were not doing the steps or hand motions the way we should. I know I was in shock the first time she hit me on my leg. I cried because it stung! Eventually Mom and Dad decided to send us to our Aunt Margaret Moku Tahlit. She had a hula studio in Kohala and at times would need to use the gym to teach because she had between thirty to forty students. Her forte was not hula kahiko so she encouraged her students to learn from other instructors. Her first recommendation was to take a six- week hula kahiko workshop from ʻIolani Luahine. Attending that workshop had such a profound effect on me and has been a major contribution to the form of hula you see in our hālau. The workshop began by Auntie ‘Iolani introducing herself. She then prepared to dance the first number we would learn, “Aia Lā ‘O Pele.” She stood there with a searching look in her eyes as if trying to see something. I remember building up with anticipation to see her dance as she held that stance for what seemed like minutes. Finally she signaled with a finger to the ho‘opa‘a to begin. I watched her transform before my eyes from a little sweet-talking, gray-haired Hawaiian lady to the most graceful moving, story-telling hula dancer. Her eyes and facial expression along with her body movements told you the story of Pele. It was as if her feet were not touching the ground. I felt an energy from her that had me totally captivated. That experience has been with me until this very day. Since that time I went through a transition period from being the dancer to becoming an instructor. I was asked by Lydia Kauakahi to help instruct her haumāna for the Kualoa Hula Kahiko Competition. I solicited the help of Darrell Lupenui and together we prepared the hālau of students from Nānākuli High School. That was my first introduction to hula competition as an instructor. Shortly after I was introduced to Pilahi Paki by Uncle Moe Keale and his fiancee Kolena. My focus was moving towards understanding and translating mele. Auntie Pilahi reached into my very soul and has been the turning point in my life in everything that I do. I studied with her for two years and before the ending of the second year, I was blessed by her with my inoa Hawai'i, “Leialoha, “ and with her olioli aloha as a kuleana that I carry to this day. Through a dream she had of seeing beautiful holokū dancing, the hālau was bestowed with the name Hālau Nā Lei O Kaholokū. The olioli aloha has a powerful spiritual message which is the very foundation of Hālau Nā Lei O Kaholokū. The very first assignment for each of our haumāna has been the translation of this olioli and it is the message within the olioli aloha that is within each of us in the hālau. Hālau Nā Lei O Kaholokū is a culmination of the experiences of my sister Nani and Lorna our alaka‘i, and myself . We feel truly blessed that in our lifetime we have met instrumental people who have shared the art of hula with us. We are always mindful that we carry a responsibility because what we instruct today will have a profound effect on tomorrow. It is our hope that we have done and will continue to do justice to our ancestors by the hula we portray through our hālau. Nani Lim Yap In addition to running her own entertainment company, Nani Lim Yap has been teaching hula with her sister Leialoha Amina for over fifteen years. I was six-years-old when my mother Mary Ann Neula Lim began to instruct my sisters and me. She soon became impatient with our progress and decided to stop teaching. Five years later my father felt that we should not be deprived of learning our culture so he took us to his cousin who was a well-known kumu hula from Niuli‘i, Kohala. Her name was Margaret Kaleolani Moku and l took from her for six years. Aunty Margaret taught and shared with us her unique style of hula which came from Kohala, Hawai‘i. We met once a week at the old Hāwī Gymnasium for hula classes. After awhile Aunty Margaret fell ill and we travelled to her home to learn new numbers. I enjoyed the stories as well as the hula lessons on the porch of her hale. Aunty Margaret had difficulty with her legs and became confined to a wheelchair hut she would still continue to dance and teach using her expressions and her hands. The essence portrayed without the movement of her feet was very captivating to me. She taught my older sister and me just about everything that she knew. She said, “You know everything that I know. Just take it and train others.” She wanted us to carry on the style for the children and her love of Kohala. She made sure to share this kideana with my parents as well and to know that it was given with her aloha. We were encouraged to go to other kumu hula while under her tutelage and also after she had passed on. Through the program funded by the State Foundation on Culture and the Arts, we were exposed to the stvles of "Iolani Luahine, George Na‘ope, Edith Kanaka‘ole, Kaha‘i Topolinski, Darrell Lupenui, and John Ka‘imikaua. These workshops were all deeply appreciated and enjoyed. Because our babysitters were our grandparents who spoke fluent Hawaiian, we had come to understand ka ʻolelo Hawai‘i. My grandfather came from Kau and spoke a very poetic dialect of Hawaiian. This enabled us to understand the essence of the mele being taught while we were training for hula. When I began to sing, it made the translation even easier. I could understand the song and its literal translations as well as its kaona. I felt that through that understanding, I should share the knowledge with others. It was a follow-up to what Aunty Margaret had said. This was the time. And so we took it from there, knowing the mele, translating them, and sharing it till today. We have a kuleana to pass on these traditions as they were taught to us and to perpetuate a style that is truly part of Kohala. Nana / Na Loea Hula 13
Lola Yolanda Caldito Balubar
Nā Kumu Hula Lola Yolanda Caldito Balubar - Nānā I Nā Loea Hula Volume 2 Page 14
Lola Yolanda Caldito Baluhar Lola Baluhar founded the Hālau Hula ‘O Keola-Aliʻiokekai in 1975. She has taught in her home, the Salvation Army Hall, Central Maui Youth Center and is presently at the Wailuku Industrial Park. My friends knew me as a dancer. During my high school years I danced al local night clubs, hotels, and lūʻau. My dad was a politician and whenever I went to rallies, I was always asked to do a hula. My love for hula lives on and I am proud to carry on the culture through song and dance. My mother’s kumu hula was Elizabeth Lum Ho. Mrs. Lum Ho was also my first kumu hula. She was a Chinese- Hawaiian lady who trained us from the basics in learning the foot steps and making sure we learned the name of each step. If we had a hard time doing the ‘ami, for example, she had us place our hands against the wall, bend our knees, and push our hips making sure we moved only our hips. I remember kneeling down and she would push against one of my thighs with her foot to strengthen the thigh muscles. I also remember she used the pū‘ili to correct us. Just a tap on our hips, elbows, knees or feet to remind us to concentrate on doing our steps correctly. I was very disappointed that after the ‘ūniki, I was unable to return to hula because it was too expensive. Later when I was in the sixth grade, Aunty Becky Ka‘ōpū‘iki taught my sister, Charlene Rodrigues and me with her daughter in her yard in Naska. We learned implement hula, Polynesian dances, hula kahiko, and ‘auana for performances at the local hotels. Although I was only in the seventh grade, Aunty Becky Ka‘ōpū‘iki gave me confidence to be creative in my hula. I was very fortunate to have studied under kumu hula Uncle Johnny Hokoana and Uncle Robert Kalani. Uncle Johnny Hokoana concentrated on hula ‘auana and comical hula. Uncle Robert Kalani taught hula kahiko, implement numbers, and Polynesian dances. My husband suggested I stay home and care for our son and start a dance studio. I put an ad in the local paper and the response was unbelievable! My hālau was originally called Lola Balubar’s Polynesian Dance Studio but was later renamed Hdlau Hula ‘O Keola- Alʻiokekai. I continued learning kahiko from Uncle Robert Kalani so I could teach my students. I also decided to teach Hawaiian Studies through the Department of Education so I could become more familiar with Hawaiian vocabulary and language. In the 1980s I started entering hula competitions on Maui. The first year I entered the Ka‘ahumanu Festival with senior girls and keiki. We entered the ‘auana divisions and placed first. I became interested in hula kahiko when my hālau was invited to participate in the Queen Lili‘uokalani Keiki Hula Competition. That’s when I started creating my own kahiko and tried to put my own tune to the contest chant. Every year I have grown, but there is so much more to learn. I enjoy using my talents and I really love teaching. I feel the aloha from my students when I teach them foot steps, step names, movement of the hips, good posture, head turns, facial expression, interpretation of the hula, expressing feelings of the dance, and memorizing the hula so they will have confidence when performing. I also train the haumāna in personal grooming, costuming, dressing in preparation for a performance, and helping one another use their good judgement and common sense. To have carried on the Hawaiian culture through hula has been very rewarding in so many different ways. Mahalo ke Akua for the guidance. "I enjoy using my talents and I really love teaching. I feel the aloha from my students when I teach them foot steps, step names, movement of the hip...'' 14 Lola Yolanda Caldito Balubar
Nā Kumu Hula Al Makahinu Barcarse - Nānā I Nā Loea Hula Volume 2 Page 17
Al Makahinu Barearse Al Barearse has realized his dream of building a Hawaiian village on the grounds of the Samuel Wilder King Intermediate School where he is employed as a Hawaiian Studies teacher. I was born and raised in Waimea, Kaua‘i and attended Waimea High School. Hula was taught to us in the sixth grade as part of the school curriculum. My actual formal training began in 1951 with Leolani Rivera, Larry Riveraʻs sister. She taught hula kahiko, ‘auana, Maori, and Tahitian dance and in 1957 I received my kumu hula certificate from her. After graduating from high school I attended tin; Church College of Hawaiʻi and continued my hula training under Christina Nauahi, a kumu hula in Lāʻie who also taught a lot of Maori dances. While attending the Church College I formed a group and taught them hula. We first performed at school functions and then for the hukilau at Lā‘ie Bay. Our group became a regular special guest for John Piʻilani Watkins’ show at the Club Aloha. Then in 1959 we started performing at Don the Beachcomber Show, our first professional gig. In 1959 Rose Joshua contacted me because she wanted to learn Maori. I taught Maori at her studio and she in turn taught me hula. I took formal lessons from her for two years and then informally for five more years. Whenever she needed me, she would call. Besides dancing and teaching Maori. I also chanted for her. Both George Holokai and Henry Pa were affiliated with Rose Joshua and as a result I learned some chants and dances from them as well. In 1963 Jack Regas hired me as his assistant choreographer for the Polynesian Cultural Center. Aunty Sally Wood was in charge of the Hawaiian section so I studied under her for two years. Because Aunty Sally and Grandma Rose Joshua were hula sisters, their styles were basically the same. I got involved with teaching school kids when I was at Kalani High School. I was student teaching and I organized a group call the “Na Makahinu to do shows at the Outrigger Canoe Club, Sea Life Park, Hilton Hawaiian Village, and Hula Hut. As a group we toured Japan, I long Kong, Philippines, Australia, New Zealand, and Tahiti. My sons, who also took hula from me, talked me into entering the Merrie Monarch Festival when I was teaching at Kaimukī High School. The first year we entered, we took a group consisting of football players and cheerleaders. After Kaimukī I went to Moloka‘i as a district resource teacher of Hawaiian Studies for a year and returned to Oʻahu and taught at Mililani High School, Castle High School, and am now presently at King Intermediate. I have entered the students in the Merrie Monarch Festival from all of the schools that I’ve taught at. Besides teaching Hawaiian language and Pacific Islands Studies al King Intermediate School, I teach hula during the first semester and other Polynesian dances the second semester. One of our regular community service projects is to perform at five different care homes during Christmas and Easter. I feel it is important for the students to perform for our senior citizens. A lot of my students come from broken homes and feel that they have no purpose in life. When they see the audience enjoy their performance, they know that they’ve done something worthwhile and feel good about themselves. The name of my hālau Ka Ua Kilihune means, “the life giving rain. It rains all the time in the mountains and it keeps the mountains green and alive. I relate to this rain because I have devoted my life to keeping Hawai'i alive by teaching hula to the children. One of my mottos is, “It matters not what happens to you, but rather what happens to them if you do not get involved.” Uncle George Nāʻope had the greatest influence on my hula career. When I decided to give up hula, he was the person who encouraged me to continue. He helped me on my way and became my mentor and my teacher. The things that I’ve learned from my kumu hula I try not to change. Keeping the dance intact is sacred as far as I’m concerned. I will create motions for other chants but I think I am basically influenced by what I’ve learned from my kumu hula. At one time in our history nothing was written down. There was no written language and everything had to be memorized. Dancing the hula to all of the ancient chants has made those things become real. The easiest way to memorize our history is by doing it through the hula. Hula keeps our history and our people alive, and without it one cannot truly identify oneself as being Hawaiian. “Uncle George Nāʻope had the greatest influence on my hula career. When I decided to give up hula, he was the person who encouraged me to continue.”
Nā Kumu Hula Ulalia Ka‘ai Berman - Nānā I Nā Loea Hula Volume 2 Page 19
Ulalia Berman, a resource teacher with Department of Education, Hawaiian Studies-Kupuna Program, is kumu hula of Ulalia Hawaiian School of Dance located in Kailua-Kona. Hula was taught to me at the age of one and a half years by an aunt. Because one of my legs was shorter than the other, hula was an exercise to even out my legs. At three-years-old my brothers and sister took me to Puʻunui Playground where Bose Lane was teaching hula. She taught hapa haole songs, a lot of ʻauana, and no kahiko. Aunti Alice Nāmakelua also taught at this park. I thought she was so strict. Little did I know that she would be a great influence on me and many of the hālau. At the age of seven Daddy wanted me to learn from his cousin Kuulei Stibbard but by this time, I was enrolled at Hula Hālau ʻO Māʻiki and on my way to the life that gave me so much. I was fortunate to have learned how to do the business end of the hālau while in high school. I took care of registration, collecting tuition, checking who had which costumes, and who was ready. I learned from the ground up. When Aunti Māʻiki was called away, I taught for her. And to teach your peers when you are still in high school is not easy. So I learned all these teaching techniques before I became a kumu. The teachings of Aunti Māʻiki enriched us all as she shared the love of her mentors. We were surrounded with people and love for all that life has to offer. I have so many memories of concerts, lūʻau shows, boat arrivals and departures, Aloha Week, and holokū balls. We were one of the first young children to dance in what is known today as the “Gibson Mūʻū.” Everyone called them pajamas. But Aunti Vicky Iʻi gave Aunti Māʻiki that high neck “Mother Hubbard” style and it became an insignia for the hālau. And of course we would perform with hula skirts made with one hundred fifty ti leaves, two pua melia lei and a head lei, or cellophane skirts, or red and white sarongs that people called the “Dorothy Lamour look.” When I moved back to Honolulu from Kona, Aunti Māʻiki bad started a kumu class. The only requirement was the student’s desire to learn. Having a young family at that time, I didn’t know what my goals were. I couldn’t envision where I was going to be years down the road. At times it shocked me that I was studying to become a kumu hula. But on August 27, 1973 I ʻūniki as ʻōlapa with Aunti Māʻiki and the following year I finished as kumu hula along with the Papa Lehua class. While an understudy with Aunti Māʻiki I was sent to teach hula at the Cathedral School. In September of 1973 I had the opportunity to teach for the Kalihi-Pālama Culture & Arts Society in community facilities located in the Kūhiō Park Terrace, Mayor Wrights Housing and Kamehameha Housing. A year and a half of working within the Liliha - Kalihi area provided a great learning experience. With the blessings of Aunti Māʻiki, Ulalia School of Hawaiian Dance opened in 1976 at my home in Nuʻuanu. Thus began the life of a young kumu hula with a young family, grateful for all that was bestowed upon me. Life, fulfillment, enrichment. That’s the meaning of being a kumu hula and my kumu Aunti Māʻiki had all of these. She not only taught us about hula, she taught us about life. She shared the ups and downs because it was part of life. It’s harder to be a kumu hula today because we have to be “on top of everything” w hereas while studying with Aunti Maʻiki, we took one thing at a time; a program for Tripler Army Hospital this w7eek and a program for Aunti Bina Mossman next week. I am honored when people recognize Aunti Māʻiki’s style when my haumāna dance the hula. Though I’m sure I have developed a few of my own motions over the years, I still come from the hālau of Aunti Māʻiki and I continue her style. I give credit to my husband Kona and our children Kaleihoku-o-kona, Analu Kaʻai, Hoʻolaikahiluonalani, and Lononuiakea for their continued support. I’m proud to know that Hoʻolai and Lono carry on our rich legacy of Ilawaiʻi through music, dance, language, and love for cultural awareness. Kona and I pass on our love so they may continue to enrich future generations. E ola mau! "Life, fulfillment, enrichment. That is the meaning of being a kumu hula and my kumu Aunti Māʻiki had all of these. ”
Nā Kumu Hula Leilani Bivera Bond - Nānā I Nā Loea Hula Volume 2 Page 20
Leilani Bond started teaching hula to the children of Kauaʻ i in 1981. Her hālau now includes adult women with classes held in Wailua and Pō‘ipū on Kaua‘i, and in Reno, Nevada. Kauaʻi was such a good place to grow up in. As a child I had many wonderful experiences and met several famous people who came to Kaua‘i because I helped my dad Larry Rivera with his shows at The Coco Palms Resort and in Honolulu. He began working at the Coco Palms in the early 1950s and he composed and performed many songs that have become famous. “Wai‘ale‘ale” became really popular and I remember that we were invited to perform it at The Waikīkī Shell. In those days the tourists came on the ocean liners and my dad frequently sang “Love and Aloha,” which talks about the Lurline sailing away. My sister and I were photographed holding a lei up so that one of the ships could be seen through the middle. That photo became famous. I started taking hula lessons from Aunty Kuʻlei Pūnua when I was three-years-old. I really enjoyed the Hawaiian music, the stories, and the many ho‘olaule‘a we participated in. There were no stressful competitions then; the gatherings of musicians and dancers were a lot of fun. I tried my best to learn as much as I could. I decided that I wanted to teach hula too but I knew I had to work really hard to learn the meanings of the words and the spirit of the dances. After I graduated from high school. I started Hawaiian studies classes at Kaua‘i Community College but soon decided to postpone the rest of my education in order to assist my parents with the shows. I also put on shows of my own for conventions and other hotels and entered some competitions. I began working in guest services at Coco Palms and got to know and learn from Mrs. Grace Guslander, Aunty Sarah Sheldon, and Aunty Sarah Kealamapuana Malina Kaʻilikea about Hawaiian culture and arts. In order to educate tourists about our culture, I did a lot of research on hula and Hawaiian music while I worked in the historical museum at the resort. I taught tourists how to play the ‘ukulele, sew a lei, make a hula skirt, and other Hawaiian arts and crafts. These skills became part of my everyday life and I learned leadership and developed my creativity while making many good friends. When I had my first daughter, I became determined to pass on the Hawaiian culture to my children. I decided that I would do this through hula. So I started holding classes in my home for neighbors and relatives and continued teaching as my family grew. Throughout the years Iʻve learned from several great kumu hula. Aunty Sarah Kealamapuana Malina Ka‘ilikea worked with my father and so she has given me friendship and knowledge over many years. I also acknowledge Uncle George Nā‘ope, Frank Hewett, and Vicky Holt Takamine for their tutelage and continuing friendship, and I have received much from Sarah Sheldon, Pat Nāmaka Bacon, Edith McKinzie, and Pua and Nalani Kanaka‘ole. I received a year of training in hula kahiko from Willie Pulawa who was teaching on Kauaʻi in the early 1980s. His training encouraged me to be creative with kahiko. All these teachers helped me to recognize and realize the traditions of hula. As a kumu I try to teach my haumāna to understand what they are dancing about and how to express the emotions in (lie chants and songs. Because I don’t come from a family that speaks Hawaiian, I’ve worked hard to learn the language and am still learning. Before I create a hula, I study the words and try to list all the meanings I can find. I then try to decide what the writer intended to say. That helps me to create and enjoy the emotions of the hula. Like everyone else I start my students with the basics because (hey need to have that foundation and discipline. Usually kahiko is taught first but because of today’s modern English-speaking environment, l teach the keiki a hapa haole song. That’s how the children learn that the motions, words, and timing all move together. Then (hey learn kahiko and ‘auana and I always explain (lie meanings of the Hawaiian words. As the students get older they learn aspects of Hawaiian arts and crafts. About five years ago some mothers of my students and oilier friends asked me to start a ladies class. Some were in my classes as little girls, others stopped taking hula when they became teenagers and had other interests. The ladies dance with a lot of feeling and try hard (o understand the songs. A new challenge came to me a year ago when Janet Rasmussen of Reno, Nevada asked me to teach hula in her home. I go there every six weeks and these women have really blossomed into good hula dancers. Preparing and participating in competitions take a lot of time and energy. I have wrestled with the idea of competing for profit or prizes and it never really settled in my spirit. I try to tell my haumāna that if we decide to compete, then I challenge them to compete against themselves; to convey in a true spirit of aloha, their sincere affection for their hula sisters. I ask them to practice and exemplify what Hawaiians call ha‘aha‘a and to see competition as a chance to perpetuate our Hawaiian culture. When I see my haumāna understand these concepts, then I feel I’ve succeeded as a kumu hula and no prize can replace the inner peace that I gain. “When I had my first daughter, I became determined to pass on the Hawaiian culture to my children. I decided that I would do this through hula." 20 Leilani Rivera Bond
Nā Kumu Hula Cy M. Bridges - Nānā I Nā Loea Hula Volume 2 Page 23
Cy M. Bridges, the great grandson of Kuluwaimaka who was a court chanter during the reign of Kamehameha II to Kalākaua, is a Bishop of the Hauʻula IV Ward of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints and has been employed at the Polynesian Cultural Center in Lāʻie for many years. Hula is a bit different today. We’ve all seen movies of hula dancers of the past. All you have to do is pop in a video and you can readily see how much it has changed. Mele hula and mele oli were once the textbooks of Hawaiʻi. The History and words that were carefully woven into the chants were very important. Today the words at times become secondary while the motions take on the primary role. Crowds go wild when they see certain movements. They may not know what the words are saying but the moves are so electrifying especially in the kahiko that the audience get carried away. There are some things that I have enjoyed watching and yet would not dare incorporate into my own teaching. Our hālau hula began with four kumu hula: myself, Bill Kauaiwiulaokalani Wallace, Enoka Kaina, and Keitli Kalanikau Awai. William Cravens, who at the time was the President of the Polynesian Cultural Center, called Bill and me in and asked us, “Why don’t we have a hālau?” We told him it would be taxing and would take so much time and effort to have fund-raisers. Cravens said, “Don’t worry about any of that. We'll sponsor it and fund whatever you need.” We felt we would give it a try and that’s how we got started. Enoka suggested the name Hui Hoʻoulu Aloha for our hālau. We thought the name was nice, appropriate, and had a good meaning. I think the most important thing is love, not only for each other but for the culture and for what we do. After a while everyone moved on. I dropped off for a season but I came back to keep the hālau going. Aside from everything else I was involved with, my family had to also share time with the hālau. It was a big part of their life. Ever since l was quite young, I was fascinated not so much with the dance but more so with the chanting and how the voice was used as well as the haunting sounds of the ipu and palm. I wanted to learn how they did that. The very first training I got was really from my mom and grandmother. Now this was interesting because they were not chanters or hula people at all however they would tell me how it should or shouldn’t sound based on what they had observed through family members growing up. And as for myself, I would listen and mimic recordings of chanters that I heard especially our tūtū. My formal hula training began when I was in high school with Aunty Sally Wood (Naluai) at the Polynesian Cultural Center in Lāʻie. I consider her my hula mother because she was my first formal teacher and I was with her for a number of years and graduated under her tutelage. Aunty graduated me fourteen years after l first started dancing with her. She called me early one morning. She was crying on the phone and told me she was sorry. I didn’t quite know what she was talking about. She said to me, “I see a lot of kumu hula who are teaching and entering competitions. I thought of my own students who I’ve trained and they didn’t ʻūniki. I want you to graduate.” So our group got together and seriously started training once again. Her nieces Sunday and Ellen Gay were the first to graduate. Keith and I followed soon after. While still with Aunty Sally I also began training with Aunty Hoakalei Kamau‘u. it first started when Aunty Hoakalei came down to Church College of Hawaii to help us with a Hawaiian Club assembly. Afterwards Aunty needed male teachers to help her with performances and hula workshops. In 1976 a performing group went to the South Pacific Festival of Arts in Rotorua, New Zealand and Aunty Hoakalei was our coordinator. It was a small group and I was very fortunate to be a part of it. During the time we were with Aunty Hoakalei. I also learned from other hula masters through our involvement with the workshops, hōʻike, and the Arts Festivals, etc. We were able to learn the stylings of Aunty Edith Kanaka‘ole and her daughters Pua and Nalani who were also in the New Zealand group. I was fascinated when Aunty Edith would explain about the different winds and rains or other elements and how they were associated with the various chants we learned. I also had the opportunity to learn from Aunty Pat Nāmaka Bacon most of which were in conjunction with other festivals. I still call on her today when I need help. Like many others, she is a special person and a great inspiration to me. Aunty Sally is a graduate of Lokalia Montgomery and I had the opportunity of also learning from Aunty Lokalia. I first met her when we did a performance for the crowning of the Lei Day Queen at Kapi'olani Park Bandstand. About a month later she invited me to come and learn from her. What was even more special was the fact that one of Aunty Lokalia’s teachers was my tūtūman while he was at Mossman’s Lalani Hawaiian Village in Waikīkī. I did not train intensively in chanting with Aunty Sally. Basically I was given the words, she would chant it for me, and I would follow her until I got the gist of it. But as I went to other teachers, I found that Aunty Pele and Lokalia would incorporate techniques that were slightly different. I gathered a little bit from all of my teachers. Noelani Kamekona took me to Kaʻupena Wong. At that time he had just finished working with another student and was not able to dedicate the same time and effort with me however he gave me some chants and shared some techniques and said I could call on him at any time. That in itself was a great boost for me. My style is a combination of all of my kumu. It is so very important to me what my mom, grandmother, Aunty Sally, Aunty Hoakalei, Aunty Pat, and others think about what I do and how I do it. I only wish I can bring honor to them and what they’ve shared with me. I hope I never disappoint them. The interesting thing with our hālau is that our haumāna are from Oʻahu, the Cook Islands, New Zealand, Fiji, Rotuma, Honolulu, Kauaʻi, Big Island, Japan, and Spain. They’re from all over the world and they come to learn and love the hula. One of the greatest joys I get is seeing someone who has never danced, be able to do it well. They can understand, appreciate, and love Hawaii, its people, and its culture through its unique music and dance. Oh the pain! Aahhh I guess it’s worth it! Nānā I Nā Loea Hula 23
Michael Ka‘ilipūnohu Canopin
Michael Canopin, kumu hula of Hālau Kealakapawa, has been teaching hula on O‘ahu since 1987. In 1982 I began my hula training with kumu hula Chinky Māhoe of Hālau Kawaiʻulā. We went through some rigorous training, learning the basic steps. I found Chinky’s style to be ‘aihaʻa. We danced low to the ground with bent knees. Chinky stressed discipline and I liked that because it was a challenge. After a few months Chinky asked me if I would like to be a part of his competition group. So I trained and ended up dancing in the 1983 Merrie Monarch Hula Festival. What an experience! My second teacher was Palani Kaliala, kumu hula of The Gentlemen of Maluikeao and The Ladies of Kahanākealoha. His classes were held at the Kamehameha Schools dance studio. I really enjoyed when he explained the background of each mele and I was fascinated with his method of teaching. He had a very systematic way of explaining things, especially to dancers who were new to the hula. He would stress the importance of the basics starting with the foundation which was your feet. His style wasn’t as ‘aiha‘a as Chinky's but it demanded a lot of endurance. As part of the class curriculum we were trained to research chants and mele of the hula. It was extremely important to Palani that we have a thorough understanding of the material we were dancing to, so it was our homework to go out and research. Palani also encouraged us to enroll in his “papa ʻōlapa. ” This class offered us the opportunity to further our knowledge through research projects such as the study of the famous birthplace of our aliʻi Kūkaniloko; Laka, the patron god/goddess of the hula; Pele and her siblings; the kuahu and plants related to the hula; types of chants appropriate for dancing, and hula protocol. These were a few of the many projects included in the “papa ʻōlapa. I completed the training and received a personal oli aloha, the symbol of the red lehua blossom, and a certification of ‘ōlapa from my kumu. For a short period in 1988 I had the opportunity to study hula under the direction of kumu hula Robert Uluwehi Cazimero of Hālau Na Kamalei. I was fortunate to learn some traditional hula, chants, and wonderful choral singing. It was fabulous!! His style was more of a relaxed, upright style. In late 1989 I returned to Palani Kaliala. He selected me to train as hoʻopaʻa. Through this training I learned various chant styles, composition, choreography, and die proper use of the ipu heke. Palani offered my hula brother and me the opportunity to train the students of Pearl City High School to enter the annual Hawaiʻi Secondary Schools Hula Kahiko Competition. It was his way of affording us the hands-on experience in learning how to teach the hula. Later I taught hula at Damien High School and Saint Francis High School. Through these experiences I gained the desire and interest to pursue teaching. It was through Palani’s blessing that l became a kumu. He stressed the importance and the responsibility of t he title of kumu hula. He gave me the right to teach at a lnPelepo ceremony. In 1990 before his passing Palani gave me his blessing to begin Kealakapawa. This inoa given to me by Palani literally translates as “the path of dawn” and poetically it means “the trail of the morning star.” I encourage my students to study and continue to learn. Emphasis is put on the importance of the language, culture, and Hawaiian values. But the thing that I stress most, especially in the study of hula, is to learn the language. There’s much more to a chant than merely looking at the written translation. I will sometimes compose a chant to express my feelings. If I m inspired by a certain place or by a certain event, I will put it down on paper to commemorate that particular occasion. I'll also write if I need a special chant instead of using a standard hula kaʻi and ho‘i. I don’t want to say that all kumu should compose however if they put their thoughts in writing, it would be a record of their time in hula. When it conies to hālau we all know our place; we are an extended family. We stand firmly by our motto: “Mai ka lōkahi, mai ka ikaika” (from unity, comes strength), and as a kumu I need to remember that my students come because of their interest in learning hula. Since 1990 we’ve been active in participating in various hula events such as the Prince Lot Hula Festival, the King Kamehameha Hula & Chant Competition, and the Queen Liliʻuokalani Keiki Hula Competition. In recent years we have entered the King Kalākaua Hula Competition in Kona and the Merrie Monarch Hula Festival in Hilo. Hula competitions serve as a time for the dancers to strengthen themselves. As we train together and work at researching the materials we are performing, we gain that special sense of family awareness. At competition we present all of this. We need to adhere to the guidelines set for us by our kupuna. Each kumu should take interest in learning the ancient dances from our hula masters and keep it the way it was taught. I would like to see a stronger involvement in keeping the hula traditional. There’s a time and a place for being creative. What concerns me is what will be left for the younger people and generations to follow if our creative license gets the best of us? “When it comes to hālau we all know our place; we are an extended family. ” 24 Michael Ka‘ilipunohu Canopin