Pele listened attentively to his words. She said, “It will not be long before this woman arrives to fetch you and wage battle. But we will not yield you lest you die, because she is incredibly angry with you. Furthermore, she abducted you for no reason, you who are our older sister’s husband. If she had proven her beauty by seeking her own husband, no one would annoy her without cause, but she stole our older sister’s husband, whom she had earned with her beauty. You will stay with us until the opportunity arises to return you to your first wife.”
Kalamainu‘u’s battle with Pele
While Kalamainu‘u was tarrying at Polihau to retrieve water, she was completely wearied by the fact that the water gourd would not fill up completely. It was filling but because its bottom had been pierced, the water would seep out. Because the gourd would not fill with water, her thoughts were entirely focused on her task. However, at one point, as she stood up, she happened to look behind her and saw that her husband had run away. The monster was furious. She called together all the mo‘o of Molokai, Lāna‘i, Maui, Kaho‘olawe, and Hawai‘i because she knew her husband was with Pele and the others at Kīlauea.
After the mo‘o gathered, they departed for Kukuilau‘āni‘a and climbed Kīlauea. When she stood at the crater’s rim, she demanded the crater dwellers release her husband, but they refused. They asked her, “Do you have a husband here? This is our older sister’s husband. You will get nothing at all because you are a vile woman.” This speech by Pele and her ilk made Kalamainu‘u furious. She said, “If you do not release my husband, I will command my people to fill this lava crater, and your fiery nature will soon be extinguished.” Just as she had threatened, the mo‘o filled the lava crater with their slime, and the Pele clan barely avoided catastrophe.
The craters of the Pele clan were nearly extinguished, only Kamohoali‘i’s crater remained. From there, the fire reignited until it was endlessly immense and the mo‘o slime was nullified. Kalamainu‘u and her legion of mo‘o were unable to remain in the vicinity. The fire’s heat came forth so aggressively everywhere that most of the mo‘o were killed. They perished in the crevices that opened as they fled. As for Kalamainu‘u, she dove in the pond named after the mo‘o Aka (Loko Aka). She was defeated, husbandless, and barely escaped with her life.
Kalamainu‘u’s punishment for Hinale
When Kalamainu‘u reached Molokai, she pursued Hinale, intending to kill him because she was furious for the part he played in Puna‘aikoa‘e’s escape, but because he was so quick, he escaped. Hinale, fully aware of his dangerous predicament with his sister, immediately fled to the ocean, and entering it, turned into a fish. Because Hinale dove into the sea, Kalamainu‘u dived in after him. She looked for him in the places he usually frequented, among the short coral heads and the long coral heads. But she did not find him because he resembled a fish—the hīnālea that sells for a quarter at ‘Ulakōheo fish market.
Kalamainu‘u continued searching, but it was all for naught. ‘Ōunauna (hermit crab) was greatly annoyed by her frequent passage back and forth in front of his home. He asked, “Whatever are you searching for, Kala?” Kala replied, “I am looking for Hinale.” ‘Ōunauna said, “You will not capture Hinale unless you listen to what I have to say. If you do not listen, nothing will be gained. You will be thwarted in the same way that Pele and her clan shamed you and you will be husbandless. That is what might happen if you refuse to listen to me.” Kalamainu‘u replied, “I shall listen to what you have to say if I feel it to be right, but if nothing is gained, you will die an outcast’s death by my hand.” ‘Ōunauna said, “You must go and fetch the ‘inalua [a climbing vine with oval leaves and bluish one-seeded fruits used to make the funnel-mouthed fish trap] then weave a fish trap and tether it in the sea. Leave it for a long time, and later when you dive, you will see that he has entered the fish trap and you will capture him.”
Kalamainu‘u went to fetch the ‘inalua, then returned to weave it, and when the fish trap was done, she left it for a long time in the ocean. But when she dove to check the trap, Hinale was not inside it but swimming near it. She rose to the surface to catch her breath. When she dove again, he was still not in the fish trap. She did this over and over again until her nose and eyes were inflamed because she had dived repeatedly in the water. Still nothing was gotten.
She was infuriated. Filled with wrath, she searched for ‘Ōunauna. “Here you are,” said ‘Ōunauna. Kalamainu‘u answered angrily, “Here you are. I will kill you today if I have my way. I made the mistake of believing your advice. Instead, you intended my death. How could you possibly capture him when I was unable to do so—me, the one with more power? You are truly worthless, ‘Ōunauna, you miserable beach crawler. This conversation is finished. I am going to kill you. Know that your days of crawling on the beaches and the tide pools are over.”
‘Ōunauna replied, “Before my demise, perhaps we should talk and then these bones of mine will be handed over for death, but should you find the conversation useful, there will be no death. I want you to tell me exactly how you carried out the task so that I can understand the reason why you were unable to capture Hinale.” Kalamainu‘u replied, “I do not want to talk with you again right now. You heard my decision.” ‘Ōunauna said with fervor, “Please, just tell me a few words about it, perhaps I forgot to tell you something.” Kalamainu‘u replied, “I will talk to you, but I still intend to kill you because your advice has wearied me.” ‘Ōunauna answered, “I do not want to hear your complaints. I want you to tell me exactly what you did. Besides, if I die, who else would entertain you in this place?”
Kalamainu‘u replied angrily, “Mistaken indeed, I returned home and then left to go inland to gather the ‘inalua. When I returned, I wove the funnel-shaped fish trap and then I turned the entrance outward. I tethered it in the sea in an appropriate place and left it for a long time. I was surprised when I dived to discover that Hinale was not inside. I thought it was not the right place, so I moved it. But each time I dived, it was the same. So, I continued until I was exhausted. Therefore, I came to kill you. Your death would serve as balm to ease my headache because your tedious tasks wore me out.”
‘Ōunauna said, “That’s it indeed, I forgot to tell you to get some things. They are easily gotten. Go dive for the long-spine sea urchin, the short-spine sea urchin, and then get a sand crab. Mash everything together until it is mixed, then thrust it inside of the funnel-shaped fish trap. You must turn the opening, which was turned outward, so that it faces inward, then take it away into the sea and set it up in a suitable location. Leave it for a while. When you dive, he will be inside because he will have seen that his cousins are dead, and this is why he will have entered the trap. He will escape quickly, but you will have caught him before then.” In this way, he was captured, or so it was said.
Today, this continues to be the technique for trapping the hīnālea fish. A chant was composed about this method, given here:
Kala passes to and fro,
Come evening, the beautiful one will be bad-tempered,
Yearning eyes settled upon Puna,
Puna‘aikoa‘e the husband,
Walinu‘u the wife,
Kala took Puna,
Harsh was the language at Maunaloa,
Filled with wrath was the tree-smiting lizard,
At her vain attempts to capture Hinale.
Why is your reason [for going to and fro], Kala?
Hinale
You will not catch Hinale [like this].
Look for the ‘inalua,
Squeeze the long-eyed sand crab, [with]
Hawae sea urchin in the deep sea, [and]
The wana sea urchin moving swifly in sea-floor hollows.
You have adversaries, Kala
Pu—na escaped.
Pele and her band return Puna‘aikoa‘e
After this battle between the Pele clan and
Kalamainu‘u because Puna‘aikoa‘e escaped with Hinale’s guidance, Puna was reunited with his wife. This is a woman of many names.
Perhaps that was the way to become a deity in those times. It was also said that those deities fought in their human form—Walinu‘u, the first wife of Puna‘aikoa‘e, with Kalamainu‘u (Kihawahine) and with Haumea (Kāmeha‘ikana). That man of theirs was the reason for their battle, perhaps out of jealousy. Because of that battle, Kalamainu‘u became blind in one eye and Walinu‘u’s nose was flattened when it was broken, which is reflected in their images when they stand in the House of Papa—probably Papa who was the wife of Wākea.
Puna‘aikoa‘e’s capture under his new name of Makea
A new ali‘i succeeded Puna‘aikoa‘e after he had vanished because he was gone for such a long time from the moment he had gone missing. While those two were living in upland Kalihi, when they wanted fish, Walinu‘u would go crabbing at the Ko‘olau Cliffs, He‘eia, and several other places. But by and by on another occasion, when she went crabbing in the usual places, Puna‘aikoa‘e got up and went to the middle of a banana patch to lay down where it was cool. As he was resting in the coolness of that mountain banana patch, he was overcome with sleep. While he was asleep, a guard seized him, thinking he was a banana thief. They removed his loincloth and tied his hands. They led him to the sea of Honolulu where they probably drowned him, and then brought him back upland where they hung his corpse from the branch of a breadfruit tree.
It is said that on the northwest side of the Wahikahalūlū Pond precipice, on the ridge between it and Pūehuehu, just mountainside of Kamano, right in front of the cliff perhaps, is the place where that very breadfruit tree stands.
Walinu‘u’s return and her fainting
While Walinu‘u was gathering seaweed and catching crabs in the usual places down from Kalihi, she heard rumors of unfortunate events concerning her husband. Because of this bad news, she stood and tied a fisherwoman’s skirt around her hips, which is made from the morning-glory vines that grow on the beach. This skirt was a temporary one that women wore when they went crabbing, and discarded afterward, and in this way, they didn’t ruin their regular skirt.
Because of this worrisome news, she did not think about changing into her regular skirt and went inland wearing her morning-glory skirt. She saw her husband’s body hanging from the breadfruit tree surrounded by a crowd. Anguished, she wailed for her husband and beat her chest in grief. From her reaction, everyone realized that she was the dead man’s wife. Although she was grief stricken, because her husband was innocent, she came up with a plan to punish the person who caused his senseless death. For that reason, she split the breadfruit tree until it opened. The entire crowd, awestricken, fell to the ground when they saw this incredible feat. She dropped her morning-glory skirt to the ground where she had been seated and stood up naked. Then she entered the breadfruit tree, which fused closed after her as it was before. It became something much talked about, well known even where the ali‘i lived. As for the morning-glory skirt that she had left behind, it took root and thrived, and perhaps still grows there today.
The demise of the ali‘i responsible for the death [of Makea]
When Makea’s corpse began to leak greasy fluids, the dogs crowded below the breadfruit tree began to lick it, including the dog of the ali‘i who owned the banana patch for which her husband had been killed. When the dog went home, he wagged his tail when he saw the ali‘i, and they began to romp around happily. But suddenly, as they played, the dog bit his royal owner’s throat, and killed him. This dog’s behavior that caused a death was quite strange. It seems that food was the cause of death. One would have thought that only Makea was meant to die, but in the end, both men lost their lives. That is what happens to whoever seeks the death of someone innocent as Herod did by taking the head of John the Baptist.
WATER BEINGS OF SOUTH AMERICA
The different groups of Amerindians living in Guyana are descended from the original inhabitants of upper South America or the Caribbean, and water spirits abound in the folklore of Amazonian tribes. The Warrau (also Warau, Warao, or Guarao) of Guyana speak of the Ahúba, which are two fish (a male and a female) with human heads who rule over other fish, and who, according to Warrau belief, live in subterranean water sources that flow to the sea. The Ahúba are considered evil because they eat the bodies of humans drowned in shipwrecks. The Ho-inarau and Ho-aránni (male and female sea spirits) and the Naba-rau and Naba-ranni (male and female river spirits), on the other hand, may appear like either humans or fish. These water spirits and the Warrau once enjoyed good relations, and even took each other’s females for their wives. This was not a perfect situation, because Warrau women isolated themselves when menstruating, which annoyed the water spirits because they greatly enjoyed intercourse with menstruating women. When their peaceful relations terminated, the water spirits, both males and females, began to seduce or abduct human spouses instead.
Water spirits called Oriyu are familiar to both the Warrau and the Arawak (a tribe of South America and the Caribbean; called Taino in the Caribbean). In one tradition, the Oriyu came about when gigantic lizards lost a battle against an Amazonian tribe and escaped to the river, where they became Oriyu. Male and female Oriyu enjoy intercourse with humans and seek them out, but they forbid their human lovers to speak about these trysts with other humans. The price humans pay for divulging their relations with Oriyu includes the threat of premature death, or the refusal of the Oriyu to have anything more to do with them.1
The Fisherman’s Water-Jug and Potato1
While this story, from Guyana, concerns an Oriyu and the fisherman she agrees to marry, it is also a story about the origins of a huge catfish termed the low-low (Silurus) and a smaller catfish termed imiri (Sciadeichthys). Here, the broken-oath motif drives the plot, but it is the Oriyu’s mother-in-law, not the Oriyu’s husband, who breaks the promise she extracted from them.
There was once a fisherman who went fishing daily, and whose catch was invariably large. One day, when out in his corial something pulled at his line but he missed it: three or four bites followed, yet he caught nothing. Once more he tried. Something tugged at the hook; he hauled in the line, and what should he drag up to the surface but Oriyu herself! There she was, the real Spirit of the Water, with all her beautiful hair entangled in the line. It was but the work of a minute to get her into his boat, and she was indeed beautiful to look upon. So beautiful was she that he carried her home to his mother, and made her his wife, the only condition that Oriyu stipulated being that neither her prospective husband nor her mother-in-law should ever divulge her origin. Being so accustomed to the water, Oriyu proved an excellent helpmate: out she would go with her husband, in his boat, and look into the depths for fish. These she could see when no one else could, and she would advise him not to throw his line in here, but over there, and so on. And thus day after day they returned home, always bringing the old mother-in-law plenty of fish. As you can well imagine, this happiness did not last very long; it came to an end through the old woman, when in liquor, loosening her tongue and letting out the secret of Oriyu’s origin. Oriyu said nothing at this time, so grieved she was, but she waited her opportunity to take her husband with her to her former home under the waters. So on the next occasion that the crabs began to “march” from out the ocean to the shore, the family made up a large party, and all took their places, with their quakes, in a big corial. As they were coming down the river, Oriyu all of a sudden told her companions that she and her husband were about to pay a visit to her people below, but that they would not be gone long, and that in the meantime she would send up something for them to eat and drink, but they must share everything fairly. Without more ado she and her man dived into the water. After awhile up came a large jar of cassiri, and a lot of potatoes, a very welcome addition to the few provisions they had on board. When they had each had their fill of the cassiri, and had eaten the potatoes, they threw the j
ug and the useless skins back into the water, where the Oriyu turned the former into the giant low-low [Silurus] and the latter into the squatty little imiri [Sciadeicthys]. This is why we old Arawaks always speak of the low-low as the fisherman’s water-jug, and of the imiri as his potatoes.
Oiára, the Water-Maidens1
In the second narrative, a synopsis by the American Herbert H. Smith (1851–1919), who lived in Brazil from 1880 to 1886, we learn that the peoples of the Lower Amazon tell stories about seductive water spirits they call Oiára. Apparently, female Oiára are not friendly water spirits, for they use their pleasing songs and beauty to entice men and drag them beneath the water. In some traditions, Oiára are male entities described as having a human upper half and a river-porpoise lower half, or as being able to alternate between their human and river-porpoise forms. Unlike their female counterparts, the males are content with seducing women and then letting them go free.
Stories of water-maidens are common on the Lower Amazons. The Indians say that these maidens are exceedingly beautiful; they have long, black hair, in which they entwine the flowers of the morerú.2 They entice the young men by their beauty, and by the sweetness of their songs; once in their embrace, they drag them down into the water, and nothing more is ever heard of them.
The Penguin Book of Mermaids Page 25