Kaiaulu: Gathering Tides - Chapter 3 PDF

C H A P TER 3 Kahu Care and Cultivation [Our fam...

C H A P TER 3 Kahu Care and Cultivation [Our family] had their own taro and they lived close to the beach ’cause you could go fishing, you could go get ‘opihi, everything was here. —Loke Pereira, Anahola, 2007 We normally used to fish mostly down in this area and leave that [nearby reef] for them. —Tommy Hashimoto, Hā‘ena, 2010 You learned the laws of nature, of when to harvest. [You] need to know the cycles of whatever you’re harvesting. —David Sproat, Kalihiwai, 2015 Take care, before you take. —Noah Ka‘aumoana, Hā‘ena, 2016 The word kahu means “keeper,” and refers to the action of caring and nur- turing. This term is commonly used to describe the individual or family who cares for a particular ‘āina, especially sacred areas throughout Hawai‘i. Kuleana associated with fishing includes the responsibility to mālama (take Copyright © 2018. Oregon State University Press. All rights reserved. care of) fishing spots before harvesting from them. Use of natural resources relies on building relationships with specific harvesting areas and gathering in a way that cultivates their continued abundance. Just as North American temperate forests once thought to be wild were actually tended by Native peoples for generations,1 small reef and inshore areas of Ko‘olau and Halele‘a have long been tended by area families.2 These families fished and gathered mainly from small patches of reef within a larger ahupua‘a. Sustained interactions with these reefs allowed fishers to develop in-depth knowledge of these spots and to observe their changes across generations. Families share stories of protecting fishing ar- eas as hatcheries and feeding grounds, timing harvests to protect reproduc- tive periods, and weeding and cultivating seaweed beds as the base of the 34 Vaughan, Mehana Blaich. Kaiaulu : Gathering Tides, Oregon State University Press, 2018. ProQuest Ebook Central, http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/uhm/detail.action?docID=5517401. Created from uhm on 2024-12-31 23:47:52.  Kahu: Care and Cultivation 35 marine food chain. People respected other families’ gathering areas, leaving fishing spots to be harvested primarily by their caretakers. Aspects of this system and the underlying values and caretaking on which it is founded continue to be practiced today.3 Kuleana (Rights and Responsibilities) Exclusive Ahupua‘a Fishing Rights The first written laws of the Hawaiian Kingdom protected the exclusive fishing rights of local residents. Maka‘āinana (ahupua‘a residents) and konohiki (local-level chiefs) had exclusive authority to harvest and regulate fishing within ahupua‘a fisheries, which stretched from the shore at low tide to the edge of the fringing reef, or a mile out to sea where there was no reef.4 This system of local-level harvest rights and caretaking responsibilities was formally targeted when Hawai‘i was annexed as a territory of the United States through the Organic Act of 1900.5 With the intention of opening all ahupua‘a fisheries for public access, the act required konohiki to formally register their “vested rights,” lest they be lost. Though only one hundred of the three hundred to four hundred known konohiki fisheries succeeded in registering, the territorial government systematically pursued termination of konohiki and ahupua‘a residents’ rights through condemnation of these remaining fisheries.6 Arguments for condemnation focused on exclusivity and food security, particularly during World War II, when opening fishing throughout Hawai‘i was promoted as a means to overcome food shortages. Arguments against termination focused on the conservation value of lo- cally tended fisheries that could in turn replenish other fishing areas. A se- Copyright © 2018. Oregon State University Press. All rights reserved. ries of territorial, state, and even US Supreme Court cases considered the legality of closing local fisheries to public harvest. In 1904, in United States vs. Damon, US Supreme Court Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes argued that the government could not terminate local-level fishing rights within an ahupua‘a on O‘ahu.7 He wrote, A right of this sort is somewhat different from those familiar to the common law, but it seems to be well known to Hawai‘i.... The plaintiff ’s claim is not to be approached as if it were something anomalous or monstrous, difficult to conceive and more difficult to admit.... However anomalous it is, if it is sanctioned by legislation, if the statutes have erected it into a property right, property it will be, and there is nothing for the courts to do except to recog- nize it as a right.8 Vaughan, Mehana Blaich. Kaiaulu : Gathering Tides, Oregon State University Press, 2018. ProQuest Ebook Central, http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/uhm/detail.action?docID=5517401. Created from uhm on 2024-12-31 23:47:52.  36 Chapter 3 After Hawai‘i became the fiftieth state of the United States in 1959, the state government continued to pursue payments to condemn remaining konohiki fisheries. Although Hawai‘i’s coastal fisheries are now managed as public resources, konohiki fishing rights are still legally recognized and reaffirmed in the Hawai‘i State Constitution.9 Some of the last registered konohiki fisheries in Hawai‘i exist within Halele‘a. Formal protections for ahupua‘a fishing rights were systematically eroded beginning in 1900, but respect for these exclusive rights of ahupua‘a resi- dents endured in Halele‘a for a century longer.10 When I asked Ko‘olau- and Halele‘a-area elders about where they fished growing up, they made com- ments such as, “We stayed in our own area.” When I asked what the fishing was like in other ahupua‘a just a few miles from people’s homes, the most common answer was, “I don’t know, we never fished there.” When asked why not, elders named the families of the other ahupua‘a, saying, “That was their place.” These responses illustrate awareness of boundaries or palena that differentiate informal yet respected gathering rights reserved for local families. One Hā‘ena elder, Uncle Tommy Hashimoto, laughed that if he had fished in other people’s areas, they would have scolded him, asking why he was there and if his people had depleted their own reef at home. With the exclusive right to harvest in one’s home area came the expectation of taking care of it. Respected Family Harvesting Areas Within the legally protected boundaries of konohiki fisheries, which spanned the entire coast of an ahupua‘a, were much smaller areas infor- mally reserved for families to harvest. For example, in Hā‘ena, community Copyright © 2018. Oregon State University Press. All rights reserved. members describe certain reefs, each of which have names, as being re- served for certain families. Generally these areas were in front of the lands on which these families resided. When asked where he used to fish, one kupuna, Charlie Chu of Hā‘ena, stated, “Oh just in front of our land, on that reef there.”11 Ten years later, in my discussions with Chu’s sixty-year-old nephew, Presley Wann, and thirty-five-year-old grandniece, Lei Wann, both echoed their uncle. Father and daughter pointed to the same reef Chu men- tioned, saying, “Oh, I can only talk about this place,”12 and “I grew up fishing right here and it is the only place I go.”13 While maka‘āinana had formal rights to access all of the resources within their ahupua‘a, most of their daily meals came from small family gathering areas close to home. In some areas, gathering was restricted not to certain families but to certain groups of people. For example, one of the best and most accessible Vaughan, Mehana Blaich. Kaiaulu : Gathering Tides, Oregon State University Press, 2018. ProQuest Ebook Central, http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/uhm/detail.action?docID=5517401. Created from uhm on 2024-12-31 23:47:52.  Kahu: Care and Cultivation 37 reefs for gathering seaweed in Hā‘ena was reserved for kūpuna (elders). As lawai‘a Uncle Bobo Ham Young explained, “That [reef] is considered the kūpuna place [to pick limu] because it’s not rough. But you see these peo- ple [not from Hā‘ena] go over there and they raid that place because it’s so easy.”14 Other Hā‘ena community members pointed out that while area fishermen consider it their responsibility to share their harvests with elders, many elders would still rather harvest for themselves. Respect for informal community agreements to save protected and accessible areas for kūpuna shows esteem for elders while preserving their independence. Reserving nearshore fishing for the people of a particular ahupua‘a is another form of respect, preserving each community’s ability to feed itself. Access by Relationship Family harvest areas did sometimes extend beyond ahupua‘a boundaries in unique circumstances. Some species, for example, could be found only in one specific place, in which case provisions were made to allow people from outside the ahupua‘a access to harvest. In some instances people harvested in more than one ahupua‘a where they had family ties, often in adjoining ahupua‘a along the same stretch of coast. People could also harvest in ah- upua‘a their families did not come from by seeking permission from certain respected individuals. For example, one lawai‘a, whose grandfather, Kalani Tai Hook, was the konohiki of Wainiha, recalled people stopping at their home to ask his grandfather’s permission before fishing in Wainiha.15 Individuals also fished with friends who had family ties in different areas. Uncle Valentine Ako grew up in a fishing family on a different island, but married a woman from Ko‘olau and moved to Kaua‘i nearly seventy years Copyright © 2018. Oregon State University Press. All rights reserved. ago. He described learning to fish in one particular Halele‘a ahupua‘a from his friend who descended from that area. “He taught me all the ku‘unas [fishing spots] down at [that place]. But you know, the way I was brought up, our kūpuna always told us when you go in a strange place, do not intrude. Go by invitation.”16 After his friend passed away, Uncle Val stopped access- ing the areas his friend had shared, and refused to share them with oth- ers: “[My friend’s] brother told me, ‘eh, you ought to show your mo‘opuna’ [grandchildren]. But I said,... you know, the way I was brought up is never to intrude in a certain ahupua‘a for the people who live there. And that’s the reason that I didn’t share.... I was brought up a different way, to respect the places that you associate.”17 This fisherman felt that sharing knowledge of a place he wasn’t from would show disrespect for that place and its people. He held to this value Vaughan, Mehana Blaich. Kaiaulu : Gathering Tides, Oregon State University Press, 2018. ProQuest Ebook Central, http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/uhm/detail.action?docID=5517401. Created from uhm on 2024-12-31 23:47:52.  38 Chapter 3 Uncle Valentine Ako with the author and her children at an anniversary lū‘au for Uncle Val and his wife, Aunty Elizabeth Ako. (Photo by author) even though a person of that place, the brother of the friend who gener- ously taught him, was urging him to share those teachings. Families from this area use the word “respect” frequently in describing interactions with place. Here, respect means that if someone shares a secret family spot with you, you do not go back without them, or show others. Honoring the rights of area families was a valued form of respect. Aunty Annabelle Pa Kam Copyright © 2018. Oregon State University Press. All rights reserved. elaborates: “I’m from Kalihiwai. For me to come over here [another place] to fish, I have to know somebody over here and have permission. You just don’t go help yourself, because that’s for them [the people of that place]. Everything is respect.”18 Today, hundreds of people come from outside of Halele‘a every day to fish all along the coast. However, many Halele‘a lawai‘a, including some in their twenties and thirties, continue to fish, gather, and even go to the beach only in the areas where they went with their families growing up. If they have a specific reason to go to another area to fish, they first seek permission from the oldest area resident. Respecting family areas and restricting har- vest to the places where your family comes from or has kuleana, the right and responsibility to care for an area, continues to be an important value underlying fishing. Vaughan, Mehana Blaich. Kaiaulu : Gathering Tides, Oregon State University Press, 2018. ProQuest Ebook Central, http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/uhm/detail.action?docID=5517401. Created from uhm on 2024-12-31 23:47:52.  Kahu: Care and Cultivation 39 ‘Ike ‘Āina (Specific and In-Depth Knowledge of Place) Exclusive harvesting rights meant that families harvested in small areas, sometimes referred to as a family’s “icebox,” and got to know these areas well. Lei Wann, a young fisherwoman of Hā‘ena, explains how her grand- mother would go to a particular spot, during the right season, at the exact time on a certain tide, to catch a particular fish. A Kalihiwai community member also recalled the specificity of fishing as practiced by her grand- mother and older aunties: We would go to [the beach]... where I got my... reef fishing experiences. With the old grandmas,... high tide, we would all go. Put a kerchief on their face and their long sleeves. They didn’t look like they were going fishing. It looked like they were going shopping. You know how the old ladies did, they would just cover up.... And then I watch these ladies in action.... And they would fish for specific fish. Not “We’ll go and see what we are going to get.” They would go for specific fish.19 Hā‘ena kupuna and master fisherman Tommy Hashimoto says, “I don’t look for fish. I meet them when they come home for lunch.”20 He goes on to explain that fish, like people, follow routines, set by tides. Certain species frequent specific reefs to feed on particular seaweeds. By knowing the depth of water on these reefs at certain tides, and how much water particular spe- cies need to feed, fishermen know when and where to find these species like clockwork.21 Tommy Hashimoto created a map of over 160 Hā‘ena reef names he learned from his father, though he says his father knew many more. This map, with names such as Kalua‘āweoweo (hole of the ‘āweoweo fish) and Laeokahonu (headland of the turtle) highlights specific knowl- edge of multiple spots on each reef. Copyright © 2018. Oregon State University Press. All rights reserved. Kainani Kahaunaele describes knowledge that comes with harvesting from specific places across generations by saying, “I think the families down there were all like resource managers in a way.... They have been there for so long that they have seen the long-term changes. And because they are so observant, because they have to be in fishing, they will notice the nuances and so on.”22 Fishing provides the foundation for caretaking. Regular in- teraction with particular areas over long periods of time helps fisher men and women understand natural cycles and rhythms, recognize changes, and identify times to rest areas so that the resources may replenish. With exclu- sive harvest rights and in-depth knowledge comes the kuleana to ensure abundant harvests for months, years, and generations to come. Vaughan, Mehana Blaich. Kaiaulu : Gathering Tides, Oregon State University Press, 2018. ProQuest Ebook Central, http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/uhm/detail.action?docID=5517401. Created from uhm on 2024-12-31 23:47:52.  40 Chapter 3 Māla ‘Ai (Garden): Cultivating the Sea Enhancing Habitat Interviews reveal how families carefully tended nearshore coastal areas to cultivate abundance. One focus of this cultivation was creating and main- taining habitat for particular species. For example, building imu kai in the ocean in Hā‘ena to create habitat.23 Imu kai, also called umu in other parts of Hawai‘i, are rocks arranged in small piles near shore.24 Coral chunks with hakahaka, or large spaces, are most effective, as they provide numerous holes and hiding spaces for fish. Kūpuna of Hā‘ena used imu kai to harvest, placing a net over the rock pile while removing each pōhaku (rock), in turn, rebuilding the pile stone by stone in another spot. When all the rocks were removed, the net was full of fish that were hiding in the original imu kai and a second was already built.25 One of the last Hā‘ena fishers who harvested in this way was Kupuna Rachel Mahuiki, who passed away in 1996 at the age of eighty-two. Kupuna Rachel, who gathered on the reef well into her seventies, would reach into the imu kai to grab manini (convict tang) with her bare hands, then place the fish in the folds of her mu‘umu‘u (long dress) and walk home.26 In 2013, the Hā‘ena community began rebuilding imu kai in an area known as Kalei.27 Efforts by a summer student intern to experiment with various shapes and forms of imu kai (including tubes, pyramids, and cylinders) found that each shape attracted different species of fish. All shapes increased the abundance of multiple species in areas around the imu kai.28 Imu kai built in nearshore waters aggregate and create safe habitat for fish species. Another example of cultivating coastal areas is the maintenance of he‘e Copyright © 2018. Oregon State University Press. All rights reserved. (octopus) habitat by women. Historically, mainly women harvested he‘e, an important source of protein that was pounded or boiled to tenderize the tough meat, then often dried. Women described how they would chew co- conut then spit its oil on the water, making the surface glassy so they could search the reef for holes where octopus lived. Annabelle Pa Kam, whose grandmother taught her to be “her eyes” to spot he‘e, said that, with the co- conut, “even if there is wind, everything is clear.”29 Her grandmother showed young Annabelle how to recognize octopus holes and clean them. If the holes were empty, granddaughter and grandmother would move the rocks to make it inviting for the octopus that lived there to return, or for a new one to come and make a home. Most area families reported harvesting oc- topus by stick or by hand, not by spear, tickling the octopus to grab hold so they could be lifted into a net or boat. One reason for not spearing an Vaughan, Mehana Blaich. Kaiaulu : Gathering Tides, Oregon State University Press, 2018. ProQuest Ebook Central, http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/uhm/detail.action?docID=5517401. Created from uhm on 2024-12-31 23:47:52.  Kahu: Care and Cultivation 41 octopus was that, once it died in a hole, other octopus would never return to live there. Another reason to harvest by hand may have been to avoid spearing females sitting on eggs. By tickling them out of their holes first, fisherwomen could check for eggs instead of finding them once the mother had already been killed. Ho‘omalu: Protecting Reproductive Areas and Cycles Protecting reproductive cycles was another key element of caretaking. Families described avoiding harvest of multiple species while they were spawning. “We would see the eggs, and then we’d stop, cause we know we [are] not going to have supply if we continually take them when they’re hāpai [with child].”30 Places important to reproductive cycles were also protected. In Hā‘ena, a lagoon called Mākua, meaning “parent,” was recognized as a spawning and nursery habitat. Seventy-year-old Kapeka Chandler recalled her father teaching her to walk in the tree line at Mākua, rather than on the sand or along the shore. This way her footsteps would not scare baby fish from the shallows into deeper water that predators could reach.31 However, since the 1970s, Mākua has become a high-traffic visitor recreational area. During the 1980s and early 1990s, twenty zodiacs per day launched through the reef to ferry visitors down the Nā Pali Coast. Hundreds of tourists snorkel and swim here daily. Hā‘ena fisherman Jeff Chandler explained the impact of recreational uses at Mākua this way: [It takes only] ten seconds, a shadow, for the fish to react. One second you are in there, the fish are all out of there. They don’t just come back. [They are] wild creatures.... I surf too, and I know I have an impact as a surfer. I know surfing Copyright © 2018. Oregon State University Press. All rights reserved. impacts them. It takes two to four hours before fish come back. More impact from everyone, less chance they go back in.32 Though surfing is a traditional Hawaiian sport, like many aspects of the culture, it had nearly disappeared by the 1950s. Area residents recount that when Californians began to show up with surfboards to try out north shore waves in the 1960s and 1970s, elder Hawaiian fishermen worried the sport would negatively affect fish populations. One konohiki chased away surfers, including one who became his own son-in-law, to keep them from disrupt- ing spawning patterns in an area bay.33 Keli‘i Alapa‘i, a Hā‘ena fisherman, remembers being excited to try surfing as a teenager. “We had to hide our boards in the shrubs on the beach whenever one of the older fishermen came by. If my uncles saw me with a surfboard I would catch it.”34 The ocean Vaughan, Mehana Blaich. Kaiaulu : Gathering Tides, Oregon State University Press, 2018. ProQuest Ebook Central, http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/uhm/detail.action?docID=5517401. Created from uhm on 2024-12-31 23:47:52.  42 Chapter 3 was viewed as a place for harvesting and cultivating food, not for recreation. As multiple community members put it, “Would you play around in your icebox? No you would mess up your food.” Natural cycles such as spawning were to be interfered with as little as possible. However, some species, including schooling fish such as akule (bigeye scad), could be harvested only at spawning times because spawning brought them into sandy bays within reach of fishers’ rowboats. In one particular bay within Halele‘a, a konohiki family regularly oversaw thousand-pound com- mercial akule surrounds. These fish were packed on ice, driven to the airport, and flown to Chinatown in Honolulu well into the 1960s, providing a steady source of fish for O‘ahu’s urban population. How were such large harvests sustained year after year without depleting the resource? Family members credit in-depth konohiki knowledge of akule spawning and aggregation be- havior. The nephew of the konohiki described his uncle directing harvests from the cliff where he could see the entire school. This nephew and other younger family members waited on the rowboat, watching the konohiki’s sig- nals to direct when and where to lay the nets. From up on the cliff, his uncle surveyed the colors of the school. The school normally appears almost black in the water. When the females start laying their eggs at the bottom, they stir up the sand with their tails, lightening the color of the school to brown. The color turns red as the males fertilize the eggs. The konohiki waited till the color of the school faded back to black, signaling that the reproductive cycle was complete. His nephew recalled, “When [the akule] had done all their spawning, that’s when he would give us the go.”35 When konohiki rights were condemned and anyone could legally surround akule in the bay, local fish- ermen began to hurry to surround the schools before others caught them, without giving the akule time to reproduce. As a result, community members Copyright © 2018. Oregon State University Press. All rights reserved. say that schools today are nowhere near the size of those in the bay fewer than forty years ago. Before, it was common to surround a thousand pounds at one time and still have taken only a small portion of the school.36 By al- lowing the akule to spawn before harvesting them, this particular konohiki family sustained large harvests throughout the 1970s. Area residents recall that even with these huge harvests, it was common to see a sizable school of akule in the bay on any given summer day. Hanai I‘a (Feeding Fish) Another practice was to feed fish in certain areas. These feeding spots were often called ko‘a. Interviewees on Kaua‘i used the word ko‘a to describe ar- eas where certain species gather. Ko‘a were used extensively in places such Vaughan, Mehana Blaich. Kaiaulu : Gathering Tides, Oregon State University Press, 2018. ProQuest Ebook Central, http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/uhm/detail.action?docID=5517401. Created from uhm on 2024-12-31 23:47:52.  Kahu: Care and Cultivation 43 as Miloli‘i on Hawai‘i Island, to feed ‘ōpelu (mackerel scad) and other spe- cies.37 As in Miloli‘i, some fishers on Kaua‘i tended these areas by feeding fish. Aunty Linda Akana Sproat of Kalihiwai recalled a Filipino fisherman named Levy who lived near Hanapai Channel in the 1940s and 1950s. He would walk around the rocks from Hanapai to Aunty Linda’s family’s home and ask her grandmother what kind of fish she wanted for dinner. Then he would paddle his small canoe out to the bay. Inside, he kept a set of wooden mallets of varying sizes. Each mallet made a different sound underwater when tapped against the side of his boat. By releasing food into the wa- ter while tapping different mallets, he trained different species to respond to each tone. When he tapped a certain mallet against the side, the corre- sponding fish swam right to his boat. He always brought whatever species her grandmother requested in plenty of time to prepare the fish for dinner.38 While this was the only instance shared of this specific practice, similar sto- ries of fish feeding are described across Hawai‘i, and may have been prac- ticed by other Halele‘a families as well. Tending Limu Beds Limu (seaweed) is important in the diets of Hawaiian families, providing a vital source of iron and other nutrients. Limu also provides the primary food source for herbivorous fish, and many fishers describe seaweed as the foundation of a healthy marine ecosystem. Halele‘a and particularly Ko‘olau were known for their abundance of limu. Many elders describe having abundant and diverse limu beds well into the 1980s, including limu spe- cies dependent on freshwater infusions into the ocean, which are scarce or no longer occur today. Land-based sources of pollution—including fer- Copyright © 2018. Oregon State University Press. All rights reserved. tilizers and herbicides from the sugar plantation, lawns, and one area golf course—are cited as the cause of this loss of limu, along with sediment from construction activities, spread of invasive species, irresponsible harvest practices, and decrease in stream and groundwater flow caused by stream diversions and private wells.39 Harvesting practices are specific to area and type of limu. These practices include conservational measures such as rubbing seaweed against pant legs or another surface after gathering to release spores back into the ocean, or picking rather than uprooting the limu, leaving the holdfast40 to regenerate. Though specific practices for harvesting different species varied in different places, Aunty Annabelle Pa Kam captures the general deliberateness and care required: “If you pull the limu rough, come kāpulu [careless, unclean]. If you are greedy you only get ‘ōpala [rubbish]. [That’s why] today no more Vaughan, Mehana Blaich. Kaiaulu : Gathering Tides, Oregon State University Press, 2018. ProQuest Ebook Central, http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/uhm/detail.action?docID=5517401. Created from uhm on 2024-12-31 23:47:52.  44 Chapter 3 limu. [People these days] don’t care how they pull it. You pull easy, by the edge like this, come out easy.”41 Abundance of seaweed was also cultivated by weeding certain reef areas, as with gardens on land. Aunty Jenny Loke Pereira’s father, Andrew Lovell, held community-recognized konohiki fishing rights for different species of fish in multiple ahupua‘a through the 1960s. She does not recall him regu- lating harvest of limu in these areas or requiring people to obtain his per- mission to gather. He did require his daughters to weed limu kohu (an espe- cially prized seaweed) beds of at least one area bay just before the growing season, “Our days, during high school we used to go in the month of May before summer to start cleaning the reef, all the ‘ōpala (rubbish), we used to pull it all out.”42 She felt that this work contributed to abundant populations and harvest by removing unhealthy patches, strange limu, and ‘ōpala at a crucial time in the species’ growth cycle. Copyright © 2018. Oregon State University Press. All rights reserved. Aunty Loke Lovell Pereira with her husband, net-maker Charlie Pereira. (Photo taken at their great- grandson’s first birthday lū‘au, courtesy of their granddaughter Kanani Velasco) Vaughan, Mehana Blaich. Kaiaulu : Gathering Tides, Oregon State University Press, 2018. ProQuest Ebook Central, http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/uhm/detail.action?docID=5517401. Created from uhm on 2024-12-31 23:47:52.  Kahu: Care and Cultivation 45 For limu kohu, large harvests occurred in the summertime when the spe- cies was nearing the end of its growing season, before long days and intense sun dried out and killed the limu beds. Many kūpuna from this part of Kaua‘i recall spending high school summers in the 1940s and 1950s gathering limu kohu, filling up metal cracker tins for sale in Honolulu’s Chinatown. Some kūpuna used this money to pay for school on O‘ahu. Those returning to school carried their harvest with them to sell in the city, then sent what money they could spare home to Kaua‘i for their families. Like ahupua‘a fisheries, limu harvests were an important source of both subsistence and commercial sustenance for area families. Large harvests were sustained through caretaking with specific management practices such as weeding limu beds early in the growing cycle and concentrating harvest at the end. Rotating Harvest Areas Like farmers who allow particular fields to lie fallow, Halele‘a families also followed informal, self-enforced systems of rotating harvest. Families fre- quently let fishing spots rest after harvesting them to allow fish stocks to recover. As one fisherman, Bobo Ham Young, whose grandfather Kalani Tai Hook was the konohiki of Wainiha, explained, “That is how the old folks did it. Grandpa did not fish certain places and he told all the uncles, ‘Don’t go fish over here for certain months out of the year.’ And sure enough, they don’t fish, and when they go back, ah! The i‘a [fish] stay home again.”43 When asked how to restore the fishery, elders suggested restoring seasonal rotations, “Make sure they kapu [protect], a certain season. Give the fish a chance to come back again.”44 Copyright © 2018. Oregon State University Press. All rights reserved. Lawa Pono: Take Only What You Need It’s about taking what you need, never pillaging the spot, because once you take a resource and it’s gone, it’s gone forever. —Makana Martin, twenty-year-old Hā‘ena fisherman, 2009 Lawa pono means “enough.” The value of “take only what you need” was a key principle underpinning kuleana for taking care of fishing areas. Cultural expectations to cultivate restraint in harvest were mentioned by nearly ev- ery elder I interviewed, as well as by younger generations of Halele‘a fisher men and women. When asked in a 2009 meeting to write down traditional Hawaiian values that guide fishing, fourteen out of sixteen Hā‘ena area community members wrote, “Take only what you need.” As Jerry Kaialoa Jr. Vaughan, Mehana Blaich. Kaiaulu : Gathering Tides, Oregon State University Press, 2018. ProQuest Ebook Central, http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/uhm/detail.action?docID=5517401. Created from uhm on 2024-12-31 23:47:52.  46 Chapter 3 described, referring to the teachings of his well-known fisherman father,“You got to fish only what you can eat—that is what you bring home.”45 Harvesting just enough for a family’s daily meals was a necessity before refrigeration. As Annabelle Pa Kam explained, “We ate fish, crab, ‘opihi [limpet], squid, every- thing from the ocean. We got things fresh. We only took enough to eat. Never had refrigeration. Never had electricity. So we only caught what we could eat for the day.”46 Many interviewees felt the availability of freezers coincided with reductions in the health of area fisheries because they allowed people to overharvest. Still, interviewees expressed the importance of cultivating restraint. “Don’t go fish every day. What you have, last you a week or maybe days. Then you can go back. But you take care of this one first. No go and throw ’em in the freezer and forget about this.”47 Customary management in Halele‘a did not define specific catch limits, relying instead on broad norms such as “don’t waste” or “take only what you can use,” which depended, for example, on family size.48 If people did have more catch than their family could eat, they shared. In communal surround net harvests, which yield meals for many families plus a surplus to dry or freeze, fishers could employ catch and release to avoid taking the whole school, though today, many do not. One man described his father-in-law, a master fisherman of the Hā‘ena area, ordering the release of part of a school of fish in a 2008 surround net harvest: We took what we could take first. Then when we brought it into the shoreline, we look and Uncle said, “That’s enough.” And maybe it was only half of the pile and he said, “Just let them go.” We didn’t scare them or anything so they just stayed in the outside net... acts like a coral.... So we go out there.... we just pick up the net and we scare them [the fish] and they going run home.49 Copyright © 2018. Oregon State University Press. All rights reserved. Whatever species were caught were utilized in their entirety. For exam- ple, multiple Wanini families shared that if they harvested a honu (turtle), they used every part, including eating the meat, using the oil as a medicine to treat burns, and saving the shell for diverse uses, including bathing a child, until harvest of these turtles became illegal under the Endangered Species Act of 1973. Many community members said that specific catch limits and rules were not necessary when they were growing up between the 1920s and the 1970s: “Never had rules, had so much, didn’t know about this kind of stuff. Just took what we needed.”50Some said that if they are not greedy, the ocean will always provide: “When I go fishing, I’m not thinking about how much I need to catch. I just say a pule [prayer] and throw my net. Whatever I get is exactly what I need. It is always enough for the family or party I went to catch for.”51 These interviews describe a broad underlying value of restraint Vaughan, Mehana Blaich. Kaiaulu : Gathering Tides, Oregon State University Press, 2018. ProQuest Ebook Central, http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/uhm/detail.action?docID=5517401. Created from uhm on 2024-12-31 23:47:52.  Kahu: Care and Cultivation 47 in harvest that, when adhered to by a small population of users with exclu- sive harvest rights, left little need for formal regulations. This general principle of minimizing impact, consuming no more than the minimum required, extended beyond fishing to all aspects of life within the community. Living within limits was a key part of good caretaking and ensuring sustenance for future generations. You don’t need to take more than what you need for that day. You don’t need to turn it into some kind of profit that is just going to benefit you and nobody else. So take what you need, just look at your daily and most immediate re- quirements and satisfy that. Because if you do it that way, in conjunction with a proper management system, then you’re always going to have enough.... The kūpuna definitely thought in a multigenerational perspective, and that’s why they only took what they needed.52 Changing Values In our days when you see any ‘ōpala, you pick it up yeah? You pick it up and put it on the side, you put it somewhere where it belongs, but you don’t just leave it.... This generation is altogether different. People ignore what they needed to protect. —Loke Pereira, 2007 Some kūpuna I interviewed expressed concern for the actions of younger generations. Nowadays, many younger fishermen, along with newer residents who have moved to Halele‘a and Ko‘olau, fish larger areas, targeting places known to have abundant fish, rather than sticking to certain spots. The value of earning the right to fish in a place through caretaking is less practiced and increasingly less understood. Values that apply more generally to behavior in Copyright © 2018. Oregon State University Press. All rights reserved. all places, such as mālama ‘āina (take care of the land) are important, but lack relationship and reciprocity with a specific place. The general principle of not taking too much is widely talked about. However, as one Hā‘ena fisherman in his thirties, Atta Forrest, asked,“We always say ‘Take only what you need.’ What if ‘what we need’ is now too much?” Knowing the boundaries of sustainable harvest requires getting to know and live within the limits of specific spots. Ha‘awina (Lessons) The stories shared in this chapter teach that kuleana extends to caring for the natural resources that sustain you. In Halele‘a and Ko‘olau, kuleana to care for family fishing areas was exercised through providing habitat for marine species, by weeding and cleaning the reef, staying within the Vaughan, Mehana Blaich. Kaiaulu : Gathering Tides, Oregon State University Press, 2018. ProQuest Ebook Central, http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/uhm/detail.action?docID=5517401. Created from uhm on 2024-12-31 23:47:52.  48 Chapter 3 boundaries of one’s own cultivated area, and limiting, rotating, and timing harvests according to reproductive cycles to ensure that resources were able to regenerate. People respected the work, knowledge, and gathering rights of kahu, families who invested time in tending their own areas of harvest. What would it look like in today’s world if every family took responsi- bility to actively care for the places that nourish them, whether these places provide food or wonderful memories together? What if everyone was a keeper of some place, tending its soil or shoreline in a daily, hands-on, and intimate way? What if our worth was assessed by the health of the natural resources in our home areas? When we are reliant on our relationships with a particular place, we are also more likely to regulate ourselves, to refrain from eating a certain species when it needs to be rested, and to live within limits. Kuleana is more than a general ethic of care for the Earth, minimiz- ing your impact wherever you go. It encompasses distinct responsibilities to the specific places that nourish our lives and families and the right to mālama, or care for, these places.53 Kuleana grows from reciprocity: regular return, cultivation of relationship, and active work to nurture abundance. Caretaking renders certain places “ours,” while making us more conscious of our behavior when we are in places cared for by others. Which places are you and your family responsible for? Will they continue to flourish, to nourish you and allow you to feed others? Copyright © 2018. Oregon State University Press. All rights reserved. Vaughan, Mehana Blaich. Kaiaulu : Gathering Tides, Oregon State University Press, 2018. ProQuest Ebook Central, http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/uhm/detail.action?docID=5517401. Created from uhm on 2024-12-31 23:47:52.  Mo‘olelo: Lawai‘a (Fisherman) Lu‘ulu‘u Hanalei i ka ua loku, kaumaha i ka noe o Alaka‘i Hanalei is drenched in the pounding ua loku rain, weighted with the mists of Alaka‘i (an expression of heavy sorrow) One summer while home from college, I ran a cultural camp for Hawaiian youth and lived at Waipā behind the poi garage. The shack I lived in was falling apart, and a bit overwhelming, with many visiting rats. But Uncle Calvin Saffery always checked in on me, offering food and making sure I was all right. At the time, Uncle Cal lived at Waipā too, in front of the warehouse. For him, this was a return to Waipā, where he was born. In return for his living space, he cooked the taro roots delivered by area farmers each week before poi day. Every Thursday at Waipā, com- munity volunteers assemble to clean the taro to make poi, a Hawaiian staple food. Waipā staff sell the poi at low cost and deliver it free to kūpuna throughout Kaua‘i to enhance community health and access to traditional foods. I loved listening to Uncle Calvin’s stories while he worked, building the fire in the pit under the metal barrels full of taro, splitting wood with sure strong swings of the ax and patching his fishing nets. Uncle Calvin Saffery could feel the fish coming, long before anyone else saw them. I used to watch him at night, meticulously mending his nets with the bamboo needle. Occasionally, he took a deeper breath of the night air as if it held clues to where the fish would be in the morning. I marveled at his gift.1 Copyright © 2018. Oregon State University Press. All rights reserved. I remember him racing home to Waipā from his job cleaning our three county parks, raking up every leaf from the false kamani, because he felt the fish. Uncle Cal would switch from his rusting green county truck to his even rustier blue clunker truck and spin off. He’d return three hours later with his catch. If he passed me in the yard at Waipā when he drove in, Uncle Cal would lean jauntily out the window on his elbow, trailing one word—the name of the fish he just caught, “‘ōpelu,” “akule,” or “‘anae” (mullet). Everyone in Hanalei seemed to know when uncle had gone fishing, and cars would be waiting in his driveway by the time he pulled in. People knew, too, that the only price for Uncle Cal’s fish was listening to the legend of how he caught them, in which the hero was always the fish. He’d hang off 49 Vaughan, Mehana Blaich. Kaiaulu : Gathering Tides, Oregon State University Press, 2018. ProQuest Ebook Central, http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/uhm/detail.action?docID=5517401. Created from uhm on 2024-12-31 23:47:52.  50 Mo‘olelo the back of the truck giving i‘a (fish) away by the cooler, his warm voice booming, “These buggers better be ‘ono [delicious] because they sure made me work this time, these are some smart ‘ōpelu you’ll be eating.” And, “Make sure you take for your mama too.” The blue clunker truck, so rusty now it does not move from its space at Black Pot Park, has become Uncle Cal’s home. The manō (shark) tattoo of his ‘aumakua, striking from his bicep and shoulder to his chest, is becoming flaccid, as his skin caves into his bones. He had to be evicted from his house at Waipā and left his nets. A few of us who worked there spent two days folding, cleaning, and wrapping the nets into tarps. We stored them out of the rain to keep safe for him, though I don’t think he realizes that the nets are gone. His breath is raspy now with a cough that never goes away and his eyes slide quickly in many directions behind his sunglasses. Still, he is always happy to see me, and on Saturday, when I locked my keys in the car at the beach park, he helped me break in with his charac- teristic jaunty gallantness. Once on the road again, I found myself in Big Save wanting to thank him. I bought poke. It wasn’t until I got back to his truck that I worried if it was offensive to bring fish to a fisherman. I was spared finding out, because when I returned, Uncle Cal was fast asleep, one booted foot sticking out the driver’s side window. I looked in the back for a cooler and found one with ice that had long since melted into rancid slime with dead mosquitoes floating in it. The smell of fish clung to its weathered plastic. On the day of Uncle Calvin’s funeral at the green Wai‘oli Hui‘ia church in Hanalei, a slideshow runs pictures while a line of well-wishers waits to hug Copyright © 2018. Oregon State University Press. All rights reserved. his sisters and grandchildren. In the photos, Uncle Cal is strong and larger than life. He leans over a tiger shark he caught, carries huge mountain pigs on his back after a hunt, and digs imu (underground ovens). He holds a hammerhead in a headlock at the mouth of Hanalei River and drives a boat in cowboy boots. In one shot, Uncle Cal stands in his wetsuit with a string of huge kala (unicorn fish), a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. There are pictures of his later days too, the more recent years, when he recovered from his drinking and other addictions. Then, he got a Hawaiian Homes lot in Anahola and built himself a house, board by salvaged board. He is thin in these photos, a man who had wasted away but fought his way back. There are photos of him surrounded by grandchildren. In a few pic- tures, his four-year-old grandson sits on his lap. They rake leaves together Vaughan, Mehana Blaich. Kaiaulu : Gathering Tides, Oregon State University Press, 2018. ProQuest Ebook Central, http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/uhm/detail.action?docID=5517401. Created from uhm on 2024-12-31 23:47:52.  Lawai‘a (Fisherman) 51 and play ukulele. He looks adoringly at the children in these photos, and I can almost hear his teasing voice and raspy, contagious laugh. There are many empty seats in the church pews, not because few peo- ple have come, but because most are more comfortable outside. Hundreds stand on the grass, talking in clumps, preparing trays of food, setting up benches and tables—jobs Uncle Cal would be doing too. The young men of the north shore are here in force, every single one he taught to fish. Uncle Calvin was a hero and role model to many. He knew this whole coast like the back of his hand. He had lots to teach and little respect for rules. When schools of ‘oama (baby goat fish) came in to the shallows of Hanalei Bay in the summertime, many eyes tracked where the pile was. Bamboo poles showed up along the shore and lined the pier as people pa- tiently hooked fish one at a time, the only legal harvest method. Uncle Cal had no patience for hooking fish. He was known to go at night and throw his net on the whole pile, after which every community event for the week, including poi day at Waipā, would have a full pan of fried ‘oama, kūpuna relishing them like chips. At Uncle Cal’s funeral, the tables in the mission hall next door to the church are loaded with food. There is a whole table of dessert. Another table is all fish: kala soup, fried akule, nenue poke, lomi ‘ō‘io, platters on platters of sashimi, a tray of ‘oama, and the crack seed palu of fish entrails his mother, Aunty Jenny, was famous for.2 I remembered the days Uncle Calvin came home from to Waipā from a hukilau, coolers brimming with ‘ōpelu. I used to dream of tracing the path of any one fish from the plate, back through all the layers of giving, to Uncle Cal. His was the kind of generosity that allowed everyone he gave to, to be generous in turn, so that a whole community together, even if at different Copyright © 2018. Oregon State University Press. All rights reserved. tables, would be eating ‘ōpelu for dinner. Notes 1 Uncle Calvin’s father, Jack, was a cowboy for the Robinson family, who leased Waipā from Kamehameha Schools Bishop Estate to run cattle. His mother, Aunty Jenny, once told me that the first (and possibly only) time she ever drove a car was when she had to pack all her kids into their Rambler and drive to high ground at the cemetery in Wai‘oli before the tidal wave hit in 1957. 2 Poke is a Hawaiian dish made with cubed, raw fish mixed with seasoning—typically soy sauce, sesame oil, green onion, white onion, kukui relish, and limu. Simply fried with salt is a