Horror in Paradise

by Anthology

  It is only too evident that Kealiiahonui was kept in the background by the jealousy of the Hawaii chiefs. After Governor Kaikioewa’s death, however, in 1840, his wife, Kekauonohi, was for some years Governess of Kauai. The late Levi Haalelea was latterly employed as their private secretary and land agent.

  Kealiiahonui died at.Honolulu, June 23, 1849, in what is known as the Haalelea House. Haalelea soon afterwards married his widow, who died two years later. There was a famous lawsuit over the genuineness of an alleged will of Kealiiahonui (leaving all his lands to his widow), which has twice been renewed since.

  From the Polynesian newspaper of the time we learn that he was born August 17, 1800, and that his public funeral took place in Honolulu, June 30, 1849. A niece of his, Kapule by name, who was still living at a very advanced age when this was written, faithfully attended him during his last sickness and death. She was cited as a witness in the lawsuit over his will. Her mother was the daughter of King Kaumualii by Naluahi, a woman of low rank, and her father was an American sailor, “Ako,” who is supposed to have been lost at sea. She and her husband were kahus of Kealiiahonui, and had a recognized right to be consulted in the disposition of his remains.

  It seems that by Kekauonohi’s orders the coffin containing her late husband’s remains was removed to Puuloa, Ewa, with the view of having it afterwards taken out to sea and there sunk. It was temporarily deposited in a cavern in the coral limestone back of Puuloa, which has long been used for a burial place, and has lately been closed up.

  Kapule strongly objected to the plan of sinking the coffin in the sea, and delayed its execution for a considerable time. At last certain chiefs from Honolulu paid her a visit and succeeded in overcoming her opposition. During the following night she and her husband, with one or two assistants, removed the outer coffin, which they afterwards buried somewhere near Puuloa.

  In order to test the truth of her story, at the instance of her lawyer, about 1892, the spot was found by her direction, and part of the coffin was dug up, with the brass plate on it in good preservation. There is a peculiar superstition among the native Hawaiians in regard to the disposal of the outer coffin in such cases, of which we have had illustrations in recent times. In their opinion, if such a coffin is left unburied it bodes death to some near relative of the deceased. During the same night they took out the sacred bones, the unihipili which they hunakele’d, or concealed, according to the ancient custom. I am informed that they were sunk in the sea.

  Kapule took an earring and a finger ring from the body, which she preserved for a long time as relics of her master.

  A day or two after this the coffin was taken on a canoe out to the deep sea outside of Pearl Harbor, to a spot five miles out, known to fishermen as kamole ia, to be sunk, by six brothers from Kauai who were kahus, or retainers, of the dead chief. A son of one of them, Simona, a well-known fisherman, who died a few years ago at Puuloa, gave this account to the late James I. Dowsett.

  Two men had been selected as victims, moe puu, to be put to death on the occasion, that they might accompany their chief into the other world. But when the time came only one of them, Kanepio by name, could be found; the other, Opiopio, having absconded. He was taken out to sea in the canoe, but when the time came for despatching him, one of the brothers, Kauhini, made a strong plea for his life. He said that the order of their chief was that two should die, but not that either should die without the other. “Either both or neither,” he said. He pressed this argument so strongly that he carried his point, and the coffin, with the remains of the last prince of Kauai, was committed to the deep without any attendant to bear him company.

  My informant relates that the coffin floated at first, on which a superstitious boatman said it was because they had not made the human sacrifice commanded by the chief. Then Kauhini, raising his paddle, smashed the glass case over the face of the corpse, upon which the coffin filled and sank to the bottom of the sea.

  The method of burial was closely connected with the belief in aumakuas, or ancestral deities. In this case the aumakuas of Kealiiahonui’s family may have been shark gods or other marine deities, and the object of sinking his body in the sea was probably to introduce him into the society of these powerful spirits, where he might exert his influence to befriend members of the family in times of danger upon the sea.

  In the same way the bones of other chiefs have been thrown into the fiery lake of Halemaumau, that they might join the company of Pele and her numerous family of volcanic deities.

  Rev. John B. Stair

  A Samoan Poltergeist

  An English missionary who spent some years in Samoa was puzzled for many years about the possible existence of supernatural events and native sorcery.

  John Bettridge Stair labored in the islands for the London Missionary Society from 1838 to 1845. Because of his wife’s precarious health, he returned to England in 1849, but later was transferred to Australia as a Church of England vicar in the dioceses of Melbourne and Ballarat.

  “A Samoan Poltergeist” is drawn from an article by Stair in the Journal of the Polynesian Society, Vol. V. (1896), pp. 50—53. Later reflections on his adventures among the spirits appear in his Old Samoa (London: Religious Tract Society, 1897, pp. 261-265).

  I HAVE given some carefully recorded statements of natives and facts bearing upon the belief of the old Samoans upon such matters, and I now, for the first time, make known a few facts and experiences bearing upon this most interesting subject as they occurred to me personally more than fifty years ago. During the earlier years of my residence amongst the Samoans, various circumstances occurred which were so strange and unaccountable that I could not understand them, and thinking of them in connection with many statements of the natives I was forced to the conclusion that they were the results of other than ordinary agencies.

  Two or three of these may be mentioned which occurred at Falelatai during my residence there, somewhere about the years 1839 and 1840, and the facts alluded to consisted of a constant succession of extraordinary noises and visitations, which I could never understand or fathom as arising from any ordinary causes.

  The house we then occupied was a new one, substantial and well built, so as to be free from easy access for the purpose of annoyance; but for many months, night after night, our sleep, as well as the sleep of all in the house, was disturbed by most uncanny noises and doings that were the occasion of much annoyance and astonishment alike to ourselves, our native servants, and occasional visitors.

  A long passage ran through the center of the house from end to end, having rooms on either side opening into it, and in a most unaccountable manner this passage became the scene of nightly doings that utterly perplexed and astonished us all, including our native servants and native friends, so much so that they seemed more perplexed than ourselves. Night after night, after we had all retired to rest, this passage appeared to be taken possession of by a party of bowlers, who kept up an incessant rolling of what seemed to be wild oranges or molis, backwards and forwards from end to end. Not a sound could be heard other than the interminable mysterious bowling or rolling of these molis or balls backwards and forwards; the most cautious inspection failing to reveal any human agency in producing these uncanny noises and disturbances.

  After a time we became so used to them that they lost their novelty in a measure, and we slept in spite of them, but we could never dispossess ourselves of a certain uncomfortable feeling that the nearness of such uncanny visitors and roisterous doings produced. Strangers coming and hearing the noises for the first time were amazed and wondered, and the breakfast table the next morning was sure to be the scene of eager questions and expostulations.

  “Stair, I wonder you allow your servants to keep such late hours and indulge in such uncanny sports.”

  “What do you mean?” I would reply, “there were no servants about, they had all retired to rest long before we did last night.”

  “Why,” the reply would come, “I heard them rolling ba
lls up and down the passage for hours last night, so that I could not sleep.” And great indeed was the astonishment when we assured the visitor that these strange noises were of nightly occurrence and the outcome of unknown or apparently ghostly visitants!

  At other times loud noises and knockings would be heard on the outer door, which would appear to be battered as though about to be smashed in; but not the slightest trace could be found of the delinquents any more than they could be found in what I have described under the head of native testimony.

  One instance especially made a deep impression on my mind. It was a lovely moonlit night, and a number of native chiefs and leading men had gathered in my front room, as their delight was to talk over various matters, especially to discuss foreign customs and doings. The room was well filled, and we were in the midst of an animated discussion when suddenly a tremendous crash came at the front door, as though it must be smashed in. Instantly the whole party jumped up and scattered, some to the front, some to the back, and others to the sides, so as to completely surround the house and capture the aggressors, or so for the moment the whole company thought. Hardly a word was spoken, but a rush was made to capture the offender. Not a soul was to be seen outside, however, and in a very short time the whole party were collected, crestfallen at their want of success, and keenly discussing as to who could have caused the noise. The idea of its being the act of a native was scouted by the whole party, who said it was well known that the gathering of the chiefs was there, and no native would have dared commit the outrage. It was generally decided that it must be the doings of the aitu or aitus, who were such constant aggressors! Yet for all that every place was still further keenly searched, but without avail.

  Later on in the evening we were collected together at one end of the house near to a large ifi (chestnut) tree, in which a good-sized bell was hung for use on various occasions. Suddenly the bell began to ring violently, without any apparent cause—no hand was pulling it, but it kept on wildly clanging in full view of the whole party, who looked on in amazement.

  “Perhaps there is a string attached and someone pulling it, secreted under that fence,” suggested one. Immediately one of the number ran to the fence, but no one was there. Another climbed the tree. There was no string attached, but the bell kept on wildly ringing! There was in reality no need to ascend the tree to ascertain the fact of there being no string attached, for every leaf and twig stood out boldly to view in the bright moonlight; but the mystery was not solved, and the old conclusion was come to that it was part of the mischievous doings of the aitu.

  Still, another mystery! As we were talking eagerly together, we were suddenly pelted with small stones, thrown obliquely, which struck several of the party with no little force; some on the breast, others on other parts of the body, myself on the foot—leaving us all so mystified that we separated, the outsiders to their homes and we to our haunted dwelling, more astounded than ever.

  At last, after many months, my wife’s health began to be affected, and at length quite to fail under the effects of much nervous prostration brought on by these continued uncanny visitations, aided by the great humidity of the district, so that it was deemed advisable we should remove to a more healthy place, which we did, at much loss and inconvenience. Our house was left, and with the removal we were happily freed from any further ghostly visitations.

  Very much astonishment was expressed by the natives as to what they thought was the occasion of these extraordinary visitations. Some thought the house had been unwittingly built upon an old native burying-ground, others that the ifi tree was an old malumalu, or temple of an aitu. If so, the wrath of the various folaunga-aitu, or parties of voyaging spirits, must have been aroused at seeing the sanctity of their temple invaded.

  In after years I often visited the spot, but the house was dismantled and, if I mistake not, was not occupied after, certainly it was not by any European.

  One old chief and orator, Sepetaio, from Mulinu’u, seemed much concerned at our frequent annoyances, and often discussed them with us. One day he came and, to my amusement, he gravely proposed to capture some one of the aitus that caused us so much annoyance. If I would let him have one of my servants named Mu, he declared, he could capture the aitu and bring him before me. I thanked him very much, but declined his offer to make me personally acquainted with the aitu. Among other things, he told me of an adventure that had happened to this same man Mu many years before, in which he had successfully laid his plans to capture an aitu.

  Tradition records that an aitu was accustomed to sit upon the limb of a tree somewhere near the neighborhood of Palauli (black mud), Savaii, from which he so constantly assaulted travellers as to become the bugbear of the place. At length a traveling party from Falelatai, happening to stay there, were duly informed of the trouble of the villagers, on which Mu proposed to capture the aitu, provided the villagers would lend him their assistance and support him in his plans, which they gladly consented to do.

  He then procured some putrid fish, with which he rubbed himself over as the night advanced, and started alone for the haunt of the aitu, having previously arranged with his companions that they should light a big fire in the marae and appear as if they were having a merrymaking, while some of their number were to lie in ambush near the fire with their clubs.

  On nearing the spot Mu saw the aitu seated upon a branch, and at once accosted him.

  After a little time the aitu said, “What a nice smell comes from you.”

  “Yes,” said the man, “I have been feasting upon a dead man, and a famous feast I have had. Would you not like to have some of what is left?”

  “Indeed, I should,” said the aitu, “but if I go you must carry me.”

  “All right,” said Mu, “I will carry you part of the way and you shall carry me the rest.”

  On this Mu started with the aitu on his back, taking the road towards the village, which they reached after mutual carryings. The aitu made some remark as to the noises and shouts of laughter that came from the village, when Mu said to his companion, who was riding, “Don’t hold so tightly, you will choke me; sit loosely upon my back, and hold lightly by my throat, for as we must pass through this village I shall have to walk quickly, as I know they are a bad lot; so don’t stop my breathing.” The aitu, anxious to get to the promised feast, did as he was told, and Mu trudged onwards, taking care to pass close by the fire, into which he pitched his burden, then the ambush rushed to the spot and beat fire and aitu to pieces with their clubs, and were thus enabled to rid themselves of their tormentor.

  George Anson, Lord Byron

  Lord Byron

  Views the Rites

  This report on observing in 1825 a ceremony of pule anaana or “praying to death” is given by the commander of the British Navy vessel that brought back in state to Hawaii the bodies of King Ka-mehameha II and his wife, who had died in London of a fatal attack of measles.

  George Anson, Captain the Right Honorable Lord Byron, R.N. (1789-1858), unlike his famed poet cousin, was always affable and tactful. At a time when the Hawaiian Kingdom was still considered to be under the protection of Great Britain, he quietly encouraged the ruling chiefs to consider making and enforcing modern laws, such as trial by jury.

  His account is taken from a compilation of notes made by gentlemen on the voyage under the title of Voyage of H.M.S. “Blonde” to the Sandwich Islands, 1824-25, published in London in 1826.

  February 28 [1825]

  RETURNING from a walk this morning, I witnessed, for the first time, a rite of sorcery. My attention was attracted by a group of people near the path I was crossing. On approaching it, though ignorant of the particular ceremony performing, I at once judged it to be idolatrous.

  A small mat was spread on the ground, on which was spread several pieces of tapa, a native cloth, and on those again two of the large leaves of the ape (one of the largest of the vegetable productions of the islands—I do not know its scientific name). These last seemed to
have been prepared with special care; they were both of the same size; were placed the one directly above the other, both of the stems being split entirely up to the point of the leaves. They were carefully held together by a man kneeling at one end, while the priest or sorcerer, kneeling at the other, repeated prayers over them. These, with two or three others who appeared engaged in the ceremonies, were as solemn as the grave; the rest of the company were light and trifling, and some of them turned to me, and laughing at what they seemed to think the folly of their friends, said, ino, itio—bad, bad—pupuka—foolish—debelo—devilish! On inquiring what it meant, they told me a pipe had been stolen from one of the men, and the incantation was making to discover the thief, and to pray him to death. On reproving them for their superstition and wickedness, they became disconcerted, and the man holding the leaves made some unfortunate movement, which the man praying said had destroyed the effect, and immediately ceased to pray.

  Perhaps there is no superstition more general and deep-rooted in the minds of this people than the belief that some have the power of destroying the lives of others by their incantations and prayers. There is not a doubt that many yearly become victims to their credence in this device of darkness, which holds thousands in the bondage of cruel fears. A person gains the displeasure of one of these praying men. He is told that the kanaka anaana is exercising his power over him, and that he will die. He cannot shake off the dread of that which he believes to be possible; his imagination becomes filled with pictures of death—his spirits become affected—his appetite fails—these, the natural consequence of his fears are believed to be the effect of the sorcery of his enemy. Under this conviction he takes no nourishment, pines, languishes, and dies, the victim of his own ignorance and superstition. This is no fiction, but a reality that is constantly occurring.