These three puʻu, in legend and in fact, were/are an important part of the hydrology of Hilo. The puʻu are sponges which absorb water all rainy season and slowly release it into the underground streams during the dry season. They are/were on the border between the ahupuaʻa of Punahoa and Piʻihonua.
Our kūpuna knew their importance, it is essential knowledge encoded in the legends.
Hinakuluʻua, a rain goddess, is the personification of the Piʻihonua weather system which begins in the venturi between Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa and ends near Lyman House.
Hinaikeahi, a fire goddess, created the springs in the intricate lava tube, freshwater spring, and micro-spring system which begins in the hills and continues out into Hilo Bay. In the full version of the moʻolelo, each of the major springs she created is named. Here is Westervelt’s version of the story, in Peter Young’s blog.
Since Peʻa and Honu were dismantled, it has changed the vitality of the springs, and the ecosystems which depended on them.
This photograph of Puʻu Hālaʻi, Puʻu Honu, and Puʻu Peʻa was taken by Florence DeMello Dias about 1929. Puʻu Peʻa (far right) was excavated in the 1930s to build the roadways of Hilo. The remnants of Puʻu Honu (center) continue to be excavated for development. Puʻu Hālaʻi was built over by homes, which preserved it from most excavation. The mauka (right-hand) slope seen in the photograph was excavated to build the current medical center. The image is taken from above the turn-off to the old Hilo Hospital.
The
first Hawaiians to settle the banks of the Wailoa River found it a rich wetland
where the fresh waters spread out before mingling with the salt of Hilo Bay. As
they cultivated Piopio, they built loko ʻiʻa (fishponds) and loʻi (taro paddies)
which eventually would feed generations of chiefs who ruled the district of Hilo
from its bountiful heart.
The renowned chief Alapaʻinuiakauaua dwelt at Piʻopiʻo, and it was the final home of Keōua Kalanikupuapaʻīkalaninui Ahilapalapa, father of Paiʻea Kamehameha. Keōua died at Piʻopiʻo in the 1760s. Kamehameha himself would spend time at the royal compound while constructing the vast Peleleu Fleet. Kauikeaouli, Kamehameha III visited Piʻopiʻo in his first trip of state as king.
Later, Ruth Keanolani Kauanahoahoa Keʻelikōlani, great granddaughter of Paiʻea Kamehameha, would be heir to the lands, and had a home that was located on the boarder of Piʻopiʻo and Kūkūau, what is now the grassy lawn near the Chevron gas station.
Ruth Ke‘elikōlani Keanolani Kanāhoahoa
In the mid 1800s, Piʻopiʻo was luxuriant with
coconut trees, as referenced in this line from an 1864 chant:
“To the sands of Waiolama, to the coconut grove
of Piʻopiʻo.”
In
1885, the first large group of Japanese immigrants arrived in Hawaiʻi to work
on the sugar plantations. By around 1900, they were starting to lease land to
farm. By then, many of the stone walls, temple platforms, and other structures
of Waiākea, including at Piʻopiʻo, had been dismantled for construction
projects, such as the new wharves and roadways of bustling Hilo.
Many
of the new immigrants had been farmers in Japan. They found the fertile lands
of Piʻopiʻo perfect for rice, taro, and other crops with which they were
already familiar. Soon, a thriving village grew, and was named
“Shinmachi,” “New Town,” by its inhabitants. Bon dances and
other festivals were celebrated by the tight-knit community on the banks of
Hilo’s great fishponds. But four decades later, in 1946, at 6:54 am on April
1st, a tsunami pulled the ocean away from Hilo, and then pushed it back over
the waterfront and Shinmachi. Across the island, 159 people died.
With
the resilience for which Hilo is known, people re-built. Hilo, and Shinmachi,
rose again. But, only 14 years later, in 1960, “New Town” was
destroyed by another great wave. The successive waves reached as high as 35
feet, and killed 61 people.
Instead,
the State of Hawaiʻi turned the area into a 132 acre green zone, creating the Wailoa
River State Recreation Area along Hilo’s bay front. An art center, tsunami
memorial, veterans memorial, and statue of Paiʻea Kamehameha now stand where
chiefs once lived. Instead of boardwalks zig-zagging across the watery
landscape, gravel and asphalt paths meander about the area. Many trees –
coconut, banyan and mango – which survived the tsunami remain. Tsunami
survivors tell stories of being saved when their homes were washed against the
trees, and they scrambled up the strong limbs to safety. Bridges now cross the
fishponds and river in graceful arcs, reflecting in the waters below.
Shinmachi
Tsunami Memorial, a wave-shaped lava amphitheater with a ceramic mosaic set in
the courtyard, honors the people of Hawaiʻi Island who were lost to tsunami.
The mosaic, titled “Submerged Rocks and Water Reflections” was
designed by Maui-born abstract expressionist artist Tadashi Sato.
The
Vietnam War Memorial was dedicated in 1988. Built by volunteers, with the
assistance of Fair Contracting and Fukunaga Electric, the 20ft by 20ft platform
is faced with black granite. An eternal flame flickers at the center of the
upper platform. A grove of 50 palm trees border the pathway, commemorating the
50 Hawaiʻi County men who lost their lives in the war.
Across
the Waiolama Canal from the Vietnam War Memorial is a statue of Paiʻea
Kamehameha. At 14ft (4.3 m), it is the tallest of the four statues of the mōʻī,
(sovereign). Originally commissioned by the Princeville Corporation for their
Kauai resort, the people of Kauaʻi objected to its being erected on that
island, as he had never ruled Kauaʻi. Through the assistance of the Kamehameha
Schools Alumni Association, East Hawaii Chapter, Princeville Corporation
donated it to Hilo, a place which figured prominently in the mōʻī’s rise to
power. Hilo was his capitol while he prepared his fleet to move northward, and
his highest ranking son, Kalaninui kua
Liholiho i ke kapu ʻIolani, also known as Kamehameha II, was born. Legend
tells that Kamehameha gave the town its name when a rope fashioned in the style
called “hilo” was used to prevent his canoe from being carried away
by the tide. Sculpted by R. Sandrin at the Fracaro Foundry in Vicenza, Italy,
in 1963, the statue finally was installed in its present location in 1997.
The Wailoa Center was designed by Oda & McCarty Architects and completed in 1967. Now a half century old, it retains the classic 1960s architecture. Then-governor John Burns shepherded the center’s construction as a mahalo to Hilo for supporting him, and placed Tadao Okimoto as its first director. Governor Burns asked Hilo educator Mary Matayoshi to help Okimoto set up the new center. The first exhibit was of sterling silver, which ran for four years. That was followed by a kimono exhibit which ran for almost two.
When
Okimoto was ready to retire from the center, Kathleen “Pudding”
Lassiter was asked to apply for the position. By 1999, it was time for some
refurbishing. The center needed new paint, inside and out. The asphalt floor
was cracked. The storage room was full of unused items, and the office was
cramped. Lassiter was given $6,000 for paint. “The whole community pulled
together,” she says. George Iranon at Kulani Prison brought 30 of the inmates
to the center, where they worked for three weeks. They cleaned the storeroom
and made it into an office, and turned the small office into a small gallery.
“I had no money to feed them,” Lassiter says. “I went to all the
okazuya and each one donated bentos. . . Safeway and KTA donated watermelons. .
. Pepsi donated sodas. . . So, they could eat and they had all the soda they
wanted for the three weeks.” After their release, several came back to
work at the center as volunteers.
Lassiter
recruited volunteers from all walks of life, including seniors from the county
RSVP program. Her oldest volunteer was Caroline Johnson, who began at the
center in her 90s. When she was 105, she told Lassiter she would need to
retire, as she could no longer hear the phone.
The
loving maintenance provided by a variety of entities has kept the building in
excellent shape for its age. Throughout the years, local businesses and
individuals have lent their time, talent, and other resources to mālama, to
care for, the center.
Codie
King, the current Wailoa Center director, says, “Without our supportive
community, without our volunteers, without individuals who find the value in
culture and art, Wailoa Center would not still be here 50 years later. I feel
the momentum growing for Wailoa Center to continue well into the future by celebrating
our community’s shared diversity, ideas and perspectives. We will grow, side by
side, with our many cultures, with our varied beliefs in our delicate
environment, hopefully to perpetuate a meaningful, positive lifestyle we can
share with the world.”
The
most recent refurbishment includes a series of murals, by Hawaiʻi island artist
and educator Emily Leucht, which enwrap the building. Each of the mural panels references
a different place-based story of Piʻopiʻo.
Lokelani
Brandt, whose master’s thesis is an ethno-historical study of Piʻopiʻo,
uncovered a list of place names recorded in 1925 by Mrs. Kaʻouli Kaʻai and
documented by Theodore Kelsey. It is these place names that are inspiration for
the imagery within the mural. Brandt says, “Recalling the old stories is
one part of maintaining a connection to our past. The history and heritage of a
place are realized when we retell and internalize its stories. As we move
forward and are required to make decisions about how we will utilize a place,
knowing the cultural history allows us to make informed decisions that are
founded on the generational layering of knowledge and wisdom that are place
specific.”
The
simple blocked out shapes – swirls, triangles, reticulations – contain the
essence of a complex and deeply storied past. While it would be impossible to
include all of the place names, each panel depicts carefully selected wahi pana
within the area that the panel faces. Most of names are within Wailoa or Piʻopiʻo.
The mountains of Maunakea and Mauna Loa also are included, as they are an
essential part of our water gathering systems.
Leucht
says, “I hope that the representation of these names in this visual and
public manner will encourage our community to question the history of Hilo that
they already know, and then to look deeper. I hope to honor those that have
come before, and that this peek into the past will give us a path towards the
revitalization of Piʻopiʻo, a central part of Waiākea, and Hilo.”
Included
in that revitalization of Piʻopiʻo is an ethnobotanical garden.
In
traditional Hawaii thought, plants have a genealogy that connects them to
humans. Urbanization and agriculture have removed many native plants from the
daily lives of people, severing this connection. The Piʻopiʻo Ethnobotanical
Garden, proposed in March of this year, seeks to honor and renew the
connection, and to revitalize the area by providing an interactive garden that features
food crops as well as plants for the making medicine, lei, dye and cordage. The
garden is planned to be a community resource of plants high in ethno-botanical
importance. As a centrally located space that curates these vital species, the
garden will provide a place where the public can interact with these plants,
form stronger relationships with them, and practice cultural traditions, all of
which will ensure that these “plant people” have a seat at our table for
generations to come.
Supporting
an ethnobotanical garden, providing space for teaching art, and hosting
exhibits throughout the year makes a busy calendar, quite a change from the
early days of the center when a kimono show once ran for two years. Over the
years, exhibits have changed from primarily cultural shows to more art type
shows and exhibits.
There
are eleven exhibits a year with the most popular being the Woodturners (March),
the MAMO (Maoli Art Month Show-in April), Woodworkers/Ukulele show (October)
and the Hawaii Nei Show (November –mid-December) which occur on a yearly
basis. People have been known to plan
their vacations around attending the Woodturners and Woodworker/Ukulele Shows. Another very popular show is the “Abstract
Only” show in August which has been a staple for 14 years. Many of the exhibits have ties with various
community groups, the University of Hawaii-Hilo and Art Galleries from all over
the island.
The
Wailoa Center is part of the Department of Land and Natural Resources, Division
of State Parks, and is open to the public Monday through Friday from 8:30 a.m.
to 4:30 p.m. free of charge.
Aloha no! I would like to share a little history of Hilo’s soccer field area, as I learned it from my kūpuna and some others who have researched it:
Back when Paiʻea Kamehameha was building his Peleleu Fleet, the beach went all the way back to the canal. This is why this part of Hilo, from the Wailuku to the Wailoa, is named Hilo One, “Sandy Hilo.” Behind the beach, and throughout the area where Wailoa Park is now, were lush taro fields, as well as fish ponds.
The entire area between the Wailuku and Wailoa are Hilo’s natural floodplain. Waiākea is also part of this natural floodplain, as you can see by the name, “Broad Water.”
From Hilo One to mauka, and crossing where Komohana Street is now, were Haili Forest and Mokaulele Forest. The remnants of Mokaulele are above the ʻImiloa Astronomy Center.
This forest created a natural sponge which helped to absorb the famous rains of Hilo. Many ancient chants describe the heavy rainfall of Hilo, and how it fills the waterways and tears at the edges of the shore.
Paiʻea Kamehameha logged huge swaths of the forest surrounding Hilo One to build the Peleleu Fleet.
Later, more of the forest was logged to build Hilo Town. Haili Church is named for the forest that its lumber came from.
Later, when Sugar was King, railroad tracks were built on the beach. A berm was created to protect the railway.
Over the years, communities grew up along the railway and in the Wailoa Park area (most famouly, Shinmachi). Roadways were installed, in addition to the railways.
The communities were destroyed by the tsunamis of 1946 and 1960.
After 1960, the devastated areas were made into parks so that people could not rebuild there and suffer such losses again.
The Kaikoʻo area was created with fill, to elevate governmental and commercial areas above the worst of the tsunami’s reach.
By then, Hilo had grown so much there was no place to put a replacement for a major road to serve the makai areas, so the bay front road would have to remain, and because it is so close to sea level, it would have to be protected by a berm. Still, when the sea is rough, the road must be closed.
I often hear people say that the berm needs to be cut through and opened up to allow the water on the so-called “soccer field” to drain into the bay. The problem with that idea is that the “soccer field” is only 10 feet above sea level. If that berm were removed, there would be little difference between the floodplain and the bay. Rough seas would use the entire area for a beach.
Yes, there was poor planning, but the poor planning was done in the 1800s. The city should not have been developed makai of what is now Kinoʻole St. All of that area is part of the natural floodplain. But what is done, is done, and the current situation is the best possible solution taking into account the various needs of Hilo.
In 1994, plans were made to mitigate the problems through the Alenaio Stream Flood Control Project. Draining the water into the remains of the floodplain keeps it out of the rest of Hilo, and allows it to slowly seep away, rather than “bite the shore like an angry dog,” as the old chants describe.
Rather than be angry that the soccer field and park get flooded, I think we should be happy that enough of the floodplain was opened up to provide for much of the storm waters, and when it is not storming, we have a wonderful soccer field and park to use.
Just my manaʻo. If I have made any errors, please give me links and documentation, as I am passionate about the history of our town, and always seeking to learn more!
This excellent op-ed piece by ʻOhu Gon needs to be shared with many. By Sam ‘Ohu Gon September 4, 2016
The International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN) recently unveiled a groundbreaking map of Central America that illustrates the critical role indigenous people play as caretakers of the region’s natural resources.
The map depicts Central America’s forest and marine ecosystems, along with the names, populations and locations of its indigenous peoples, who occupy almost 40 percent of the land and water area. And what the map clearly shows is telling: The best preserved natural resources are found where indigenous people live.
“You cannot talk about conservation without speaking of indigenous peoples and their role as the guardians of our most delicate lands and waters,” said Grethel Aguilar, a regional IUCN official. “They depend on those natural resources to survive, and the rest of society depends on their role in safeguarding those resources for the well-being of us all.”
The IUCN has made previous motions acknowledging indigenous people in conservation. But at this year’s World Conservation Congress, now underway in Honolulu, members will vote on a motion drafted by the cultural committee of the Hawai‘i Conservation Alliance that asks them to take additional steps toward integrating indigenous values, knowledge and approaches into efforts to address the world’s conservation challenges.
Why look to indigenous peoples?
Renowned philosopher Noam Chomsky says indigenous peoples have not commodified their relationship with the natural world. Their relationship is reciprocal: they care for their resources because their survival depends on it. Such a philosophy is desperately needed in Western societies today.
Prior to Western contact, Hawaiians embraced a reciprocal relationship with all elements of the natural world, regarding them as elders and physical manifestations of ancestors and gods.
Living on islands, with finite natural resources, they developed a mountains-to-sea system of resource management.
Within each ahupua‘a, or land division, there was an individual — the konohiki — trained from childhood to know the ahupuaa resources intimately, and who had the authority to set kapu — restrictions — when those resources were threatened, thereby bringing the resources back into balance.
The konohiki knew when each mountain tree was fruiting, when the birds of land or sea were nesting and when runs of fish were moving through the ahupua‘a — events that were extremely important to daily life.
Western approaches supplanted old relationships, disrupted ecological processes, commodified natural resources and essentially destroyed self-sufficiency.
Today, 85 to 90 percent of our food and other goods are imported from elsewhere, and the average citizen in Hawaii has little connection to the resources around them, much less a sense of kuleana — responsibility — for their care.
While we can’t easily return to the ancient ahupua‘a system, we can work to re-establish meaningful connections between people, places and resources that were its foundation. When people know and love their place and its resources, everyone benefits. The movement toward community-based marine management in Hawaii is all about this.
In rural areas like Haena on Kauai, Moomomi on Molokai, Kipahulu on Maui, and Kaupulehu on Hawaii island, indigenous communities, many of them lineal descendants of the land, are combining traditional Hawaiian approaches and modern science to restore their near-shore reefs and fisheries.
The idea is that if you engage the people of a place, who know the resources best, align them with the best of modern science and offer them an active and meaningful role in the conservation of those resources, good things happen.
Throughout the world, there is growing recognition that a new model of resource use and management is needed.
How do we achieve a more sustainable future for the planet?
The answer may lie in the caring, reciprocal relationship that indigenous people have with their resources and the natural world around them.
Sam ‘Ohu Gon, Ph.D., is a senior scientist and cultural adviser with The Nature Conservancy of Hawaii. He also is chairman of the Hawai‘i Conservation Alliance, whose cultural committee drafted IUCN Motion 83, affirming the role of indigenous cultures in conservation globally.
