Hawaiian Legends of the Guardian Spirits

by Caren Loebel-Fried

  Look forth to Kua!* Ke Ali‘i Mano–, great Chief of the Sharks, O, Kua of the thick skin, red like the blossoms of the wiliwili tree, †

  Look forth to Kua’s sister! Upon his back the woman rides, Tall and strong, she is a guiding star,

  *In Hawai‘i, the letter t was replaced by the letter k; therefore Chief Tua from Tahiti was called Kua.

  †A Hawaiian proverb says that when the wiliwili tree blooms its red blossoms, the shark bites. The color red is also associated with the gods.

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  Navigating through rough waters in the dark of night, Together they lead this great band of warriors to Hawai‘i.

  Everyone in the audience was leaning forward, excitement showing in their sparkling eyes. Not even a whisper was heard from the trees as everyone waited.

  The storyteller then took a slow breath and continued his melodious chant of this legend, this mo‘olelo of Kua, the Great Red Shark.

  The island trembled, thunder cracked and peeled, And long clouds hung low on the horizon beneath the sun.

  But a rainbow* spread high across the breezy sky, And so, we greeted them in friendship, With aloha, we welcomed them to our land.

  Striding ashore was Kua, with friendship in his heart.

  *Rainbows appeared when gods and chiefs were present.

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  Among us he mingled and in spirit form he married, A woman from our family becoming his wife.

  She was fresh like the first tender flower of a milo tree.

  From their union was brought forth a human girl, And a little green shark called Pakaiea.

  Kua’s sister married one of our own proud chiefs, Becoming ancestress to our people.

  And so the generations followed,

  Of mano– and ka–naka , sharks and humans, bonded by blood, spirit, and love.

  O Kua, we are strong with your blood flowing through our veins,

  “Na mamo i ka halo o Kua,” we are the children of the bosom of Kua.*

  This is known.

  Then, changing his tone, the storyteller said, “And so, my friends, thus began our ‘ohana, our family, all descendants of Kua, the Great Red Shark.”

  Everyone sat back with a sigh of satisfaction, eyes bright and heads nodding, for this gifted storyteller had chanted well this great story of their ancestors.

  *Said by Ka‘u– residents, who considered themselves ancestors of Kua, the Great Red Shark, as quoted in The Polynesian Family System, by Handy and Pukui, p. 36.

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  Legend of the Little Green Shark

  The Birth

  of Pakaiea

  HERE WAS A YOUNG WOMAN WHO

  lived with her parents in Ka‘u–, at the southern tip of Hawai‘i, off the sandy shore. A gentle young woman she was, “fresh like a milo blossom,” her family would lovingly say of her. Her days were busy, filled with the crafts she learned from her mother and grandmother, the plaiting of baskets from hala leaves, and the spinning of cordage out of coconut fibers. She helped care for the children in their family, those too small to care for themselves. By nightfall she was always exhausted and slept deeply.

  One night she dreamed of a tall, powerful man who came to her from the sea. His dark, muscled body moved slowly, 5 1

  smoothly toward her, his strong shoulders tattooed with the symbols of sharks. With the sound of waves gently caressing the shore, the man tenderly touched her face and hair, and the two became lovers.

  In the morning, while cleaning the hale noa, or sleeping house, she was consumed by the memory of her dream, every detail so vivid in her mind. Noticing how distracted and forgetful the young woman was, her mother approached her, and the dream was revealed. Her mother was concerned, because dreams might be messages sent by the gods or the ancestors, so she rushed to tell the young woman’s father.

  Later in the morning, he saw his daughter kneeling by the seashore picking limu, or water plants, from the rocks. A short distance away, he hid himself behind a rough wall of lava and watched her closely. He noticed her head moving this way and that as she scanned the ocean, and he became very suspicious.

  “She is looking for this man, who must have come during the night by canoe!”

  That night he kept a vigil outside of the hut where she slept. He sat quiet and still, squinting through the darkness for signs of a visitor, straining to hear the sound of feet striding up the ocean path. But all through the night, no one appeared.

  Out of the hut came his daughter with the rising of the sun, and she told her father that the dream had come again, the dream of the man from the sea.

  Night after night the dreams continued. Her parents soon realized that their daughter’s nightly visitor was an akua mano–, a shark god, because eventually the young woman became pregnant. One day she gave birth to a baby shark. She took the baby down to the shore and carefully wrapped him in pakaiea, a green seaweed with red markings. Calling out to the shark 5 2

  god to come for his son, she gently placed the little baby shark in the water.

  After many weeks, the spirit of the mano– one day appeared and spoke to the family through a haka, or medium. “I am Pakaiea, the little green shark,” he said, “named after the seaweed that my mother wrapped me in at birth. Please, my family, do not call upon me unless you are in dire need, and only worship me at such times. Take care never to eat the flesh of a shark or the type of seaweed that bears my name, for this 5 3

  would be an insult to me. Always remember, if you need me I will be nearby, in the ocean watching over you.”

  Many years and generations passed. One day a descendant of the woman, a man named Kahikina, was out fishing under a sunny sky in the waters off Ka‘u–. Suddenly there was a crash, and his canoe lurched sideways. Terrified, Kahikina held tight to the sides, and he watched as a massive shark came at the canoe and rammed his head fiercely into the small vessel. “A man-eater!” he cried. Kahikina knew that this mano– would make a meal of him if he could. He shouted prayers to Kanaloa, god of the sea, as he struck at the enemy shark with his paddle. Unshaken, the beast rushed in again with a vengeance.

  Kahikina noticed his feet were getting wet and he glanced down anxiously to see water coming in through the cracked side, starting to fill the bottom of the vessel. Looking up, his heart suddenly caught in his throat, for in the waters just ahead was another shark fast approaching. Panicked, he raised his paddle high, preparing to fight off this new foe. But to his amazement, instead of attacking the canoe, the smaller, green-colored creature charged at the man-eater. Relentlessly thrashing with fins and tail, the little green shark did not stop until the larger shark was driven away. Then the little shark swam under the canoe and towed it all the way back to shore.

  Kahikina stepped onto dry land and turned to see who it was that had rescued him. He immediately realized it was Pakaiea, whose beautiful sleek skin bore the green and red markings of the seaweed after which he was named.

  “Pakaiea!” he cried to the mano–. “You saved my life!” The little green shark swam slowly in the shallow waters, his bright eyes watching Kahikina. The man hurried home to collect bananas and ‘awa root, from which the drink of the gods is made, and brought them to the shark as an offering of thanks.

  They remained great friends ever after, with Kahikina the kahu, or keeper, of the little green shark, responsible for his care and worship. Pakaiea helped Kahikina to become a 5 4

  successful fisherman, driving schools of fish into the man’s awaiting nets, and the first of the catch was always given to the shark. The man prepared special foods for his guardian every day. He would cook potatoes, kalo (taro), bananas, and sugarcane with reverence and place the food in gourd containers slung in nets off both ends of a carrying stick.

  Bringing these offerings to the shore, he would call out,

  “Pakaiea!” and the little green shark always appeared.

  Kahikina fed the shark and tenderly cleaned barnacles off his back.

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  Many y
ears passed until the day came when Kahikina had become a very old man. As he walked slowly to the beach, struggling under the weight of the full gourds he carried, his heart grew heavy. When he reached the shore, he called out to his mano–, and as the shark arrived at the water’s edge, Kahikina knelt down beside him. Speaking quietly to the little green shark, he said, “We have been good friends for a long time, but I am getting too old to care for you. My son will soon become your kahu, your keeper.”

  Pakaiea’s eyes shone from just above the water line, bright with understanding and compassion. After a while, the little green shark turned and swam slowly away. Kahikina watched as the shark’s fins mingled and soon disappeared within the sharp whitecaps dancing across the surface of the evening sea.

  How he loved his wonderful guardian and friend Pakaiea!

  And the sea, how it filled him with awe, with its power and mystery, the great provider for him and his family through the generations, throughout the ages. Across this vast ocean long ago, his voyaging ancestors had set a course for Hawai‘i from Tahiti. Kahikina felt at one with this ‘a–ina, the land, and this moana, the grand, vibrant sea. He felt within himself the spirits of his ancestors, whom he would soon be among, and all the gods who lived on through the plants, animals, and elements around him. Kahikina was brimming with aloha for this great ‘ohana, his family, all part of the earth and the sea.

  And he sighed.

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  N O T E S

  ON THE Mano

  —

  The navigation skills of the ancient Polynesians that enabled them to explore thousands of miles of the vast Pacific Ocean have captured the modern imagination. Without the help of metal, machinery, compasses, or printed maps, these sailors built canoes and voyaged over huge distances of open ocean.

  Their navigators learned and committed to memory the patterns of stars and planets in the sky, the currents, and the many other clues nature provided. They returned to their homeland to share with others the knowledge and experience they had collected. The voyages continued, back and forth, and many islands were discovered and settled.

  Much of our knowledge of these early voyages comes from legends and myths. They were passed down through the generations by elders and by gifted storytellers with exceptional memories, whose chanting of the stories sometimes took days to complete. Within the chanted stories, metaphors were often used to describe people and events. For instance, warriors sailing a fleet of canoes might be referred to as a band of sharks. At the same time, it was believed that the spirit of an ancestor lived on in many body forms, called kino lau, such as within the body of a shark. So in a legend a shark ancestor could be both a symbolic portrayal of an ancestral warrior and a factual description of a shark who was related to a person by blood.

  There are many accounts in Hawai‘i in which the lives of sharks and people are intertwined. Not all sharks were

  ‘auma–kua, or guardian spirits; many sharks were known as man-eaters. Unlike other guardians, sharks were worshipped and cared for as individuals, called by name and recognized by 5 8

  their distinct coloring, features, and behavior. There were special patron sharks, famous in a particular location, who would provide to their devotees protection from man-eaters and an abundant catch for fishermen. Many stories are told of mano– ka–naka, or guardian sharks, who rescued shipwrecked people and conveyed them to shore on the sharks’ backs, sometimes even fanning the waters to keep the people warm.

  People who were related to sharks had to be very careful to follow the specific kapu, or sacred laws, concerning their guardians. If they were to eat the flesh of a shark, their stomachs would become swollen, distended, and horribly painful. Consuming certain types of seaweed associated with the shark would cause sores in the mouth. Since these conditions were a result of an insult to the guardian spirit, relief would only come through prayers and offerings, with the help of a priest. If the apology was accepted, the person’s health would be restored.

  The Legend of the Little Green Shark describes the interdependent relationship between humans and sharks, and illustrates how the ancient Hawaiians looked on a potentially dangerous animal as a trusted member of the family. The familial bond with the shark is still a reality, with many contemporary Hawaiians living as their ancestors did, in communion with their ancestral guardians. They continue to experience nature as a world infused with consciousness, all part of one ‘ohana, one family.

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  P A R T ◆ F O U R

  Ipu

  The Gourd

  Twins of the Gourd

  ANY YEARS AGO, IN KAMA–‘OA, KA‘U

  –, ON

  the Big Island of Hawai‘i, there lived a young chiefess who died while pregnant. Her family and the people of the village were stricken with grief, for they had loved her dearly. During ten days of mourning, the air was filled with their anguished cries of lamentation and chanted eulogies. Her husband laid her body to rest in a burial cave and rolled a big stone before the entrance, disguising the opening.

  Unbeknownst to her husband, a gourd vine sprouted from the dead woman’s navel on the day she was due to give birth.

  Along the rocky floor it grew, winding its way out of the cave’s opening and around the big stone. The thick green vine meandered west over miles of the Kama–‘oa plain, creeping through many districts, its giant leaves shiny and robust.

  Finally, when it had reached the border of Kona, a crisp white flower sprouted at the end of the vine. A day later, the flower withered and fell to the ground, leaving in its place a tiny ipu, or gourd.

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  The gourd grew in a field next to where a fisherman lived.

  While gazing out from his hut one afternoon, he noticed the little gourd and, filled with curiosity, walked out to take a closer look. A smile spread over his face as he approached and he cried, “Just look at this beautiful ipu! What a fine gourd you are! If I nurture you well, you will grow to be huge and round, and will make a perfect container for all of my fishing gear!”

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  He went immediately to collect three sticks, constructing a frame to support the ipu so it would not flatten on the bottom as it grew heavier. He removed small stones from beneath the fruit and made a cushion of grass on the ground for the gourd to rest on. He made many tiny adjustments before he was satisfied.

  And so the fisherman cared for the gourd, and as the weeks and months passed, it grew large and round. One evening, while on his daily inspection, the fisherman noticed that the gourd’s vine had started to dry out and shrink. Kneeling beside it, he struck the big gourd sharply a few times, listening carefully. “Thump, thump, thump.” It made a low, dull sound.

  “No,” he said, “you are not ripe yet, but soon!” He pinched and squeezed the ipu just to make certain that it was not ready to harvest. Then he propped it carefully again inside the frame, admiring its perfect round shape before returning to his hut.

  That very night, the spirit of the chiefess came to her husband in a dream. She looked miserable and complained of being pinched, thumped, and bruised. She told him, “Go and find the ipu. You must bring it back home!”

  When the husband awoke the next morning, his wife’s face and words were vivid in his mind, and he hurried to the cave where she was buried. His heart beat furiously when he discovered the gourd vine growing out of the cave’s small opening, and he crawled inside to find its source. He stopped short at the sight of his wife’s lifeless body, with the living vine growing from her, so healthy and full of vitality. He fell to his knees before the dead woman, crying passionately, “Yes, my darling wife, I will find your ipu! ”

  He set off at once. Following the winding, leafy plant westward, he walked many miles, through seven districts over the Kama–‘oa plain, until finally he came upon the gourd. He picked up the plump, beautiful fruit and cradled it in his arms 6 5

  with great sadness and longing. As his wife had instructed in the dream, he prepared to remove the gou
rd from its long vine and bring it home.

  The fisherman happened to be looking out of his hut when he spied the stranger behind his house holding the gourd. He ran out to the man shouting, “Put that gourd down! It belongs to me!”

  He grabbed at the gourd fiercely, trying to pull it away. The husband cried, “Please, stop! Listen to me! This gourd is sacred!” The fisherman dropped his arms, breathing hard with indignation and confusion. The husband said quietly, “I can explain.”

  He told the fisherman his sad story, all the while rocking the gourd gently, like a baby. By the time the husband finished speaking, the fisherman’s anger had turned to compassion. He said, “‘Ae, the gourd belongs to you, and you can be sure that through all these months I have cared for it well.”

  The husband graciously thanked the fisherman and started the long walk home, speaking softly to the ipu all along the way. When he finally arrived, it was dark. He wrapped the gourd in a soft piece of kapa, bark cloth, and went immediately to sleep, exhausted after the day’s toil.

  In the morning he woke up slowly and felt groggy. But then, remembering the adventures of the day before, he leapt up from his sleeping mats and hurried to the gourd. Carefully unwrapping the kapa, he found that the ipu had cracked open during the night. And there, within the folds of the soft cloth, lay two seeds.

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  His heart overflowed with gladness as he envisioned the marvelous plants and the multitude of gourds that would grow from these two seeds. He held them carefully, preparing to store them away until the rainy season, when he felt them quiver ever so slightly. Startled, he looked carefully at the two seeds. Sure enough, they moved again, and suddenly, to the man’s amazement, from each seed sprang a tiny baby girl.