He watched with awe as the miniature babies swiftly grew bigger and bigger, until they reached the size of normal infants, filling his arms with their warm softness. He held the identical twin girls tenderly,
touching his cheek to
each of their heads.
With tears filling his
eyes he whispered, “My
wife, this gift from you
and the gods is a joy to
me. I will care for our
daughters, raise them,
and protect them.”
The years passed and
the girls grew up healthy
and strong under their
father’s loving care.
They soon matured into
fine, strong women,
with the chiefly blood of
their mother running
through their veins.
Eventually, they married
and became mothers of
many children.
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As the years and generations passed, the family spread westward over the Kama–‘oa plain, settling on the same land that the gourd vine had once crept across. Over time, their population grew, and the twins became ancestors to thousands.
Members of the family called themselves the Children of the Gourd, and the memory of their origin was kept alive with the telling of this legend. The sacred ipu remained a guiding force to the people of the Kama–‘oa plain forever after.
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N O T E S
ON THE Ipu
The Hawaiian word for gourd, ipu, is also the name for a container or vessel. A symbol of abundance for early Hawaiian people, gourds grew in various shapes and sizes and were cultivated for many different uses. The dryness of the Kama–‘oa plains made the carrying and storing of fresh water essential.
The gourd made a perfect water container and could also be used as a calabash for storing food, dishes, hula drums, fishing gear, and kapa, or bark cloth. Gourds were suspended in woven nets, hung balanced on both sides of a shoulder pole for carrying over long distances.
One whose ‘aumakua was the ipu would place a gourd by the head of a pregnant woman during a difficult labor so the ancestor could help with the
delivery. Gourd fragments and
dried vines were kapu, or
sacred, and never burned by
family members, for they were
considered to be the bones of
an ancestor. Instead, they
would be buried in a deep hole.
To keep others from stealing a
prized gourd growing on the
vine, the family would give it
an ancestor’s name, letting
everyone know that this gourd
was sacred and not to be
touched.
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The ipu was a body form of
Lono, one of the four primary
gods of Hawai‘i. Known as
the Provider, Lono was a
nourishing god associated with
rain clouds, growth, and the
harvest. In the Pule Ipu, or
Prayer of the Gourd, chanted
during the ritual when a boy
became a man, the world was
described as a great gourd, its
handle a rainbow and its lid the
heavens, containing the
multitude of gods. With its full,
round shape, so much like a
womb, the gourd on the vine
contained the seeds of creation,
and in early Hawai‘i, the ipu
was used to hold all the
necessities of life.
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P A R T ◆ F I V E
Pueo
The Owl
The Seven Eggs
ONG AGO IN KAHEHUNA ON THE ISLAND
of O‘ahu, there lived a man named Kapo‘i. He was a simple, quiet man who took care only of himself, for he had never married. Though getting on in years, Kapo‘i was still in good health, nimble in his muscles and mind, and satisfied with his life. He nurtured the plants in his small garden, caught a few fish to eat with his poi, and kept his little thatched hut tidy and well maintained.
In nearby Waikı–kı– lived Ka–kuhihewa, the paramount chief of O‘ahu. He was a fair and beloved ruler, but he dealt with any perceived wrongdoing severely. When he defeated an enemy in war, Chief Ka–kuhihewa had a life-size wooden carving made to look exactly like the beaten man, bent over on his hands and knees in a position of humiliating subservience. Platters of food were served atop these wooden figures, from which the king ate with zeal. Kapo‘i did not want to anger his ruler, so he did all that he could to follow the laws and avoid trouble.
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One night, just before falling off to sleep, Kapo‘i felt a drop of rain hit him on the head. He had noticed that his roof was a little windblown, but had not realized how loose it had become. He grunted and turned himself around so he faced the other direction. “I will have to make the repairs tomorrow,” he told himself. The rain was light and soon stopped, and he had a good night’s sleep.
The next morning, Kapo‘i awoke refreshed and ready for the new day. After a light meal, he went off at once to Kewalo marsh where the pili grasses grew tall, to collect new thatching for his roof. When he reached the wide green field he strolled slowly, gazing out over the open expanse of luminous grasses.
They billowed gently in the breeze, tickling his outstretched palms, and Kapo‘i could hear the grasses whisper softly to him,
“Kapo‘i, you have come!” It was one of his favorite places. He smiled and began his task of gathering the sturdy leaves. Then he tied them up in tight bundles and started toward home.
But then Kapo‘i stopped abruptly, his keen eyes catching a glimpse of something hidden within the grasses. There on the ground before him lay the nest of an owl. Loosely constructed of grass and feathers, it held more than half a dozen eggs. “Aia ho‘i! ” he exclaimed. “Look at this! What a delicious meal I will have!” Kneeling down, he gently grasped a single egg with the tips of his fingers and examined it closely. It seemed to glow and emanate warmth from its very center.
The sun was past its zenith and shadows began to fall all around. Kapo‘i knew that the mother owl was probably hunting nearby in these fields full of small prey and would be back to her nest before long. Kapo‘i worked quickly now, plucking up each egg with care and placing it in his small gourd container, cushioned by loose strands of grass. When he was finished, he had collected seven eggs in all.
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Kapo‘i arrived at his house and stowed away the gourd container, getting right to work on repairing his roof. He worked for the remainder of the day, and when night came he lay down on his bed of soft plaited mats, tired and content.
With his roof now sturdy and secure above him, he mused sleepily over the eggs and how he would prepare them in the morning. In his mind, he pictured how he would start a fire with his fire plow. Then, while the firewood was burning, he would wrap each of the seven eggs in ti leaves and broil them in the hot ashes. Happy with thoughts of the delicious meal he would soon be eating, he fell asleep.
In the middle of the night, Kapo‘i was awakened by a strange dream. In his dream, Pueo, the splendid owl, had the feathered body of a bird but the eyes of a human. Kapo‘i held in his mind the vivid, disturbing image of the mythic owl, staring at him with eyes full of wisdom. And then slumber overtook him.
When he opened his eyes again, it was to the soft, diffused light of morning. Warmed by the sun, the new pili grasses on the roof filled his small house with a sweet scent, and Kapo‘i breathed in deeply with pleasure. Then, remembering the eggs, he immediately rose to make a fire.
When he walked outside, Kapo‘i realized he was not alone.
Sitting there on a branch of the kou tree growing just beside his house was an owl. Her huge golden eyes were fixed on Kapo‘i, and he suddenly remembered his dream
from the night before.
He tried not to appear concerned and crouched at his fire plow to start the fire, rubbing the hardwood stick into the groove.
His hands fumbled with self-consciousness.
Then the owl spoke. “You have taken my eggs. Give them back to me.”
Kapo‘i was surprised but told himself, “Oh, that voice I heard must have been the wind playing tricks on me.” He ignored the owl and his nagging dream, and continued to work his stick in the fire plow’s groove.
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Pueo hopped to a branch that was closer to Kapo‘i. “Those eggs you have in your gourd container,” said the owl, “they are mine. Now you must let me have them back.”
Kapo‘i could not deny that the owl had spoken and stole a glance up to meet her unblinking stare. He noted her dignity and intelligence, and her sharp talons gripping the branch.
Kapo‘i was a kind and perceptive man, but desire overshadowed his compassion and better judgment. He was still reluctant to part with the eggs.
He spoke to the owl with eyes averted. “So,” he reasoned with her, “you say that the eggs are yours. Surely, then, you can tell me how many there are in all?”
Calmly, the majestic creature answered, “There are seven eggs, Kapo‘i, perfectly white, and each holds within it one of my future children. Now, will you please let me return them to the safety of my nest?”
Kapo‘i now looked fully at Pueo, who sat there, graceful and splendid. Watching him, she slowly opened her mighty wings to their full expanse, and each individual feather shimmered, seemingly painted by some invisible, meticulous stroke of a brush. Fine flecks of gold sparkled within her plumage. Kapo‘i caught his breath at her incredible beauty and power, and he suddenly felt a pained embarrassment at his attitude and actions. He realized now that this owl before him must be a god.
He hurried into his house, lifted the gourd that held the eggs, and brought it outside. He placed it before her and spoke with humility, prostrating himself on the ground. “Oh, Pueo, forgive me!” he murmured. “I did not know who you were.
Please, take back your eggs and accept my apologies. No harm has come to them, I assure you!”
Pueo stared at Kapo‘i, the wisdom of all the world in her eyes. Finally, she spoke. “I forgive you, Kapo‘i. And now, I have something to ask of you. I would like you to build a heiau, a temple for me, in Ma–noa Valley, and inside it place an altar 8 0
with offerings of bananas and sacrifices. Dedicate the heiau and make the days that follow the dedication kapu, a time of prohibition. If you do all I ask of you, Kapo‘i, then I will be your guardian spirit, your ‘aumakua. I will always protect and watch over you.”
Feeling as though time had stopped, he nodded slowly.
Then Pueo gathered up her eggs. Kapo‘i watched, full of wonder and awe, as the owl took to the air on powerful wings.
Once she was out of sight, Kapo‘i immediately started on his way to Ma–noa Valley, eager to build the heiau for his guardian.
Unknown to Kapo‘i, Chief Ka–kuhihewa happened to have just built a new temple of his own, and at this time his subjects were all under kapu. Ka–kuhihewa had also made a declaration: Any new heiau built by his subjects could not be dedicated or placed under kapu until the ruler’s own time of prohibition was lifted. If anyone were to break this law, he would be punished by death. When word reached Ka–kuhihewa of Kapo‘i’s temple, he considered this an act of rebellion. “Capture the builder of this heiau! ” he shouted, and dispatched his men at once.
Kapo‘i, of course, knew nothing of Ka–kuhihewa’s new heiau or his new law. Oblivious to the approaching danger, Kapo‘i sat with eyes closed inside his temple, praying quietly to Pueo. He did not even hear the sound of the men entering, so deep was his reverie.
Suddenly he felt his arms seized and his body being lifted roughly. The angry faces of Ka–kuhihewa’s men shocked poor, terrified Kapo‘i, who was mystified by their shouts of broken laws and his execution the next morning. As the men carried him toward the chief’s compound, Kapo‘i squinted upward, anxiously scanning the bright sky. And there he saw, gliding high above, his ‘aumakua, Pueo. As the owl flew away, Kapo‘i felt deep in his heart a spark of hope.
8 1
Meanwhile, Pueo was flying fast and strong, seeking out the owls on every neighboring island. She flew from Hawai‘i to Maui, La–na‘i to Moloka‘i, Kaua‘i, and all around O‘ahu, gathering every owl to come and do battle against Chief Ka–kuhihewa of Waikı–kı–.
At daybreak, the sky over the compound was utterly black.
Not a single ray of sunlight broke through the strange dark mass that hovered overhead, suspended in the air. A warrior looked up and felt terror in his belly as he recognized that this enormous cloud was made up of thousands of strong, feathered bodies and beating wings.
He rushed to the chief. “Chief Ka–kuhihewa!” he cried.
“The sky is filled with owls! Thousands of owls! And I think they are preparing for battle! What shall we do?”
Chief Ka–kuhihewa scowled at the warrior. “Owls?” he said with derision. “You are afraid of owls? Surely you do not think they can harm us? The execution shall take place now!”
The guards lifted their prisoner by his arms and legs and carried him outside, and when the owls caught sight of Kapo‘i, the attack began. Led by Pueo, they dove from the sky in a blaze of squawks, barks, hisses, and squeals. They ripped into the warriors with razor-sharp beaks and talons, beating at the men with mighty wings. The warriors tried to defend themselves, tried to fight back, but there were too many owls!
They flew in spectacular aerial maneuvers, swooping, lunging, lashing, scratching, tearing at the flesh and testing the valor of every fighting man.
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The battle was over quickly. Chief Ka–kuhihewa set Kapo‘i free at once, for he was bleeding and shaken, frightened by this strange, powerful enemy. The victorious owls flew off in all directions, like a great thundercloud dispersing, triumphantly singing, “VOO-HOO-HOO!” Chief Ka–kuhihewa then spoke to Kapo‘i and all of his subjects. With reverence, he said,
“Kapo‘i, I am impressed with your god. I declare Pueo is a powerful god. I honor all the owls of these islands!” After this, owls became ‘auma–kua to many people.
The scene of the battle in Waikı–kı– became known as Ku–kaeunahiopueo, which means scaly excrement of owls, named for the offensive substance that the owls dropped all over their enemy during the battle . The locales around all the islands where the owls had gathered before going to fight were also given owl names. People were reminded of the battle of the owls when they passed through such places as Kalapueo, east of Diamond Head, Kanoniakapueo in Nu‘uanu Valley, and Pueohulunui, near Moanalua. To this day, these places still carry the memory of all the owls of Hawai‘i and the great guardian protector, Pueo.
Kapo‘i was filled with gratitude and awe for his powerful and loving guardian. He continued to worship Pueo, leaving sacrifices at the heiau and saying prayers to her daily. He remembered how it all began, on that day long ago when he found those seven eggs that were to become the next generation of the mighty owl.
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Under the Wings
of Pueo
MURKY, DENSE DARKNESS CONSUMED
Ka‘ili as he sat, hunched over in a damp corner of the heiau, against the temple wall. His wrists and ankles were chafed and raw from the rough olona–
cords that bound him. Tied up so tightly, the boy could hardly move at all, and his poor body ached from being in the same cramped position for hours.
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Ka‘ili shuddered with terror and remorse. “Auwe–! ” he cried to himself in anguish. “I did not know!” But there was nothing he could do. As the guards slept on the other side of the high stone wall, the poor boy, in silent agony, went over and over again the events of the day, the choices he had made that brought him to this moment.
It had been a fine, sunny afternoon. Ka‘ili and
his sister, Na–‘ilima, were walking along the hillside path above the sea, searching for a place where the boy could catch some fish for their evening meal. Waves crashed crisply against a reef surrounding a small, protected bay below, and Ka‘ili stopped to look.
“Sister!” he said, “Look down there! Those clear, fresh waters invite me to come! I think in this bay I will have good luck with my net.”
Na–‘ilima looked down at the bay and smiled. “E, Ka‘ili, you go. But do be careful!”
The boy climbed down the steep, rocky hill. When he reached the sandy shore, he found that the water was teeming with little fish. There were pua ‘ama‘ama, baby striped mullet,
‘iao, silversides, nehu, anchovies, and moili‘i, young threadfins.*
Their swift silver bodies sparkled and gleamed in the shallow water like jewels. He lowered his net into the water with care, making sure to be quiet so as not to scare the small creatures away. “Come, you shining beauties!” he whispered. “Swim to me!”
Na–‘ilima watched Ka‘ili from high on the hill, leaning against the graceful trunk of a tall coconut palm tree. She studied her brother at work, noting his sharp eye and patient,
*In ancient times, the full-grown threadfin, moi, was a favorite fish of the chiefs, and commoners were forbidden to eat it.
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deliberate movements with the net. Na–‘ilima felt proud of him, for Ka‘ili was a skillful fisherman.
The palm tree offered little shade, and Na–‘ilima started feeling lazy and languid in the afternoon heat. Her eyelids grew heavy, and the hypnotic sounds of the surf below and chirping birds overhead lulled her into a sleepy trance. But suddenly a movement in the waters below caught her attention, jarring her awake.
A canoe had entered the bay, seemingly from out of nowhere. Led by a kahuna, the boat was being paddled furiously toward her brother, who had turned to the shore to empty his net, oblivious to their swift approach. “Ka‘ili must have accidentally caught some fish that are kapu, sacred!” she cried, and knew at once that her brother was in grave danger.
Hawaiian Legends of the Guardian Spirits Page 5