Friday, December 13, 2013

Talking Story with Ocean Voyagers


                                     Hōkūle‘a is a whole story of miracles.                                                                                                                 -Nainoa Thompson



Last night I went to hear Nainoa Thompson, master navigator of the Hōkūle‘a and President of the Polynesian Voyaging Society (PVS), talk story about voyaging, the memory of Eddie Aikau as a force of inspiration, and hope for Island Earth. Because of the symbolic significance of the Hōkūle‘a and its upcoming Worldwide Voyage, host Jodi Wilmott called this event the "most culturally important" talk story of eighty so far held by Surfer [the Bar] at Turtle Bay on the North Shore of O'ahu. The night began with Hawaiian music playing softly in the background, and the event opened with a beautiful oli for Nainoa about leading Hōkūle‘a on the right path. (Here is a full video of the event.)


Nainoa was nervous. The interviewer said so, and he said so: "I'm honored and nervous at the same time." How could this courageous navigator and ocean elder be nervous about talking to us? 

Nainoa Thompson and Jodi Wilmott discuss grandmaster navigator Mau Piailug (on the screen behind them) who shared the science of traditional Polynesian deep-sea wayfinding with the PVS.
Wilmott asked Nainoa how it feels to go out to sea, and through the story he shared the audience learned that he had been nervous many times before. He told a story about the fear he felt in 1979, just before leaving for Tahiti from Big Island: "the voyage was just so huge and the pressure was so immense." Everyone in the audience was quiet and still. No glasses clinking, no whispering; instead, respectful silence as we listened to Nainoa. 
"How does it feel? I can't explain it but when we went outside Hilo breakwater, everything . . . went away. It was like noa. It was completely free [. . .] There's a time to go and there's a time not to question. We went out to sea, outside the breakwater, and it was just like everything went away. We were under the canopy of the capturing of clouds in Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa and we sailed till about 10:30 at night or so, and I remember when we went outside the breakers the first star we saw on the Southeastern horizon was Ka Makau Nui o Maui, it's the fishhook of Maui it was Eddie's constellation -- that we'll always believe that he pulled Tahiti out of the sea -- it was the first [constellation] to see. It's these moments of being in a blessed place, but not understanding what it's about. It's about knowing, but not knowing how you know. It's more about trust than it is about anything else. That's what it feels like to go deep sea."


Reclaiming Voyaging

Nainoa told us about the first non-instrument wayfinding Hōkūle‘a voyages in the 1970s and 1980 -- from Hawaii to Tahiti and back --  a feat which hadn't been embarked upon since the 14th century. 

Teacher, artist, and visionary Herb Kawainui Kāne researched voyaging canoes and built Hōkūle‘a at a time when Hawaiians were, in many ways, facing cultural extinction. Nainoa said, "When I graduated from high school, I knew nothing about who my ancestors were and where did they come from or how did they get here." The Hōkūle‘a proved that "it was possible after all for the Polynesians to have come from Tahiti with their double-hulled canoes to settle Hawai'i!" (Hui Lama speech on the first voyage to Tahiti, 1976), in response to a dismissive theory by academics that gave Polynesian voyagers only enough navigational credit to have ended up in Hawaii by accident. 
Hōkūle‘a at Waimea Bay for the Eddie Aikau Opening Ceremony 
Photo by @Aseaofpeople (on Instagram).  

This is just a hint of the cultural importance of the Hōkūle‘a, which Nainoa described as a "flashlight in the darkness" for native Hawaiians. For most people of Nainoa's generation, the creation of the Hōkūle‘a was "the first time that [they] had recognized something Hawaiian as elegant, powerful, beautiful, a promise to [their] children."

But the Hōkūle‘a had to find Tahiti, to sail over 5,000 miles to Tahiti and back, using the steering stars, the moon, the movement of the waves, to prove that populating the Hawaiian islands was no accident. 


"Extinction was so powerful in the whole 10 million square miles of Polynesia, the biggest country in the world, 600 times more water than it is land, but discovered by those voyaging canoes of the past, in the last 3,000 years, and navigated and crewed by extraordinary seamen. So much so that we would humbly argue that those voyaging canoes, especially the one that came here, to the dirt that you stand on, you sit on now, [to] the single most isolated archipelago on the planet, the last place on Earth to be discovered, which fundamentally makes Hawaiian culture the youngest [. . . ] and yet maybe the most expansive. The ones that sailed the farthest. The ones that could be, arguably, the best at deep sea voyaging." 

Nainoa's fears were about failing his ancestors. He said that "failing and shame are the same thing," and that the feeling of shame is "chronic with Native Hawaiians." After the Hōkūle‘a capsized in 1978, Mau Piailug trained the crew intensely for over two and a half years. He navigated the first voyage in 600 years, sailing through the two biggest wind systems on the planet, through the area called the Doldrums for seven days, where you can no longer see the stars and are sailing by instinct, navigating by the waves. At the time, no one else could do this but Mau Piailug.

Pulling Tahiti Out of the Sea

"Eddie is, in my life, a whole series of stories. When he became a crew member, he was so heroic, I couldn't even talk to him."
Nainoa told the audience what Eddie Aikau said to him the first time they met, as the candidates for the first Hōkūle‘a voyage were being brought together. (I had also heard Nainoa recall this in ESPN's “Hawaiian: The Legend of Eddie Aikau,” and read it in Nainoa's "Eddie Went" article in Mana Magazine.) Eddie said, "You know, Nainoa. I need to sail on the Hōkūle‘a. I need to go down the road of my ancestors, and I need to pull Tahiti out of the sea. I need to bring pride and dignity back to our kapūna because they deserve it, and give it to children."

Nainoa had already somberly told us: "1978: We lose Eddie. There were those who believed that we had to, for him, find Tahiti, but do it the old way."  



Nainoa on board the Hōkūle‘a at the Eddie Aikau opening ceremony in Waimea Bay last week. 
At Turtle Bay on Dec. 11, Nainoa said, "Eddie is with us all the time."  
www.Hokulea.org


Photo by Billy Richards 


Nainoa reminded everyone about how courageous Eddie was: the giant 55 ft. waves he surfed--before jet skis and tow-ins, paddling in with his strength and ocean knowledge--and how many lives Eddie saved as a lifeguard at Waimea Bay: "Over 500 times he went out into Waimea, by himself because nobody else was qualified. No jet skis. By himself. And the record about how many he lost? He lost zero. His record was 500 to zero."

Children admired Eddie, and many people loved him, across age, gender, and race, and all of them felt the pain of his loss. Nainoa continued to tell the legendary story, and even though we'd heard it before, the audience was completely captivated.  


"When Hōkūle‘a capsizes and [Eddie] leaves [. . .] that morning he asked the captain to leave in the gale. The rain wasn't vertical; it was horizontal. Only one keel is above sea level, the rest of Hōkūle‘a is underwater, fully rigged. Capsized in the Molakai'i channel. No communication. No escort boat. Nobody knows."

The visibility was terrible, and it was "so windy that every single wave that breaks on the ocean throws salt into the air. Salt is heavier than air, so what you have is like a fog on the horizon. It's called ehukai. [. . . ] You couldn't see O'ahu."

The emotion in the air was as palpable as the ehukai on the horizon on the day we lost Eddie. Nainoa told this story because it impacts all of the decisions he makes as a leader. He went on: "And you knew he'd be paddling at night. The thing about Eddie that I will never ever forget: he had bad eyesight. So Eddie would paddle out to an island he couldn't see to save his friends."

For Nainoa, Eddie is saying "are you willing to go for something you are ready to stand up and protect? That's the earth. That's your home. Are you willing to go for that, even against the risk? Eddie helps me find courage in the times that I am most afraid, and nobody else can do that."

Here is video footage of this year's Eddie Would Go Opening Ceremony with the Hōkūle‘a on Dec. 5.


Cultivating Ocean Instincts

"This culture is not defined by ethnicity, it's defined by kindness."

Nainoa talked about learning how to sail by instinct, in the doldrums, when the stars are shrouded by clouds, and the "vital, vital importance of teaching your children in the early years to be connected to nature" so that caring for the ocean, the planet, is instinctual.

Nainoa believes strongly that giving children opportunities to experience a love for life and love for the oceans needs to start early, and that it is the responsibility of the community to support such education.  "If we don't transition those schools into the hearts and minds of children then I think we fail. I can't change the public school system, but I can build a school that will spark the flame." Nainoa, Jenna Ishii, and many others are creating a school founded on these ideals. The Malama Honua Learning Center in Waimanalo opens in the summer of 2014 and is currently seeking early childhood educators for grades K - 2. Nainoa explained, "Mālama Honua is asking the question of culture. Not from the lens of ethnic diversity, but from the lens of humanity. [. . . ] It's going to be the poor Hawaiian kids who will change the planet because they will understand how to do that."

By the end of the night, the room was invigorated and inspired. Nainoa's final words were about the global vision of the Worldwide Voyage, beyond the boundaries of race or nation. The mission of taking Hōkūle‘a around the earth is to use the boat as a global classroom, touching people with stories, teaching unity, and "seeing the many lights around the earth." Nainoa explained this educational philosophy: "The premise is that home is innate. Home is instinctual. Everyone who understands it needs to stand up and fight for it and protect it. Home is not longer just a place you live; no longer the Hawaiian Islands; it's the earth. Island Earth. The only one we got by the way."

Canoe Tour


On Saturday, Dec. 9, Jenna Ishii and Cat Fuller gave a Hokule'a canoe tour for `Iolani teachers who are thinking about ways to incorporate Hōkūle‘a's Worldwide Voyage into our K-12 curriculum. 
Photo by Allison Blankenship

Allison Blankenship invited me on a canoe tour of the Hōkūle‘a I didn't know what to expect, but was beaming with excitement, and imagined taking a "tour" of Keehi Harbor and sailing around Sand Island. It turns out that a "canoe tour" is actually a tour of the canoe, as it's docked, but I was not disappointed! As I leaned against the sturdy wooden ledge of the ship, I listened to Catherine Fuller describe the transformative experience of a Hōkūle‘a voyage. Cat was relating the shock she experienced after a long journey to New Zealand. As she told it, she went from having three pairs of salt-covered shorts and three salty shirts for thirty days, back to a closet full of fresh clothes, and that's just one example of the culture shock that ensued upon reaching dry land. Debbie Millikan, 'Iolani's Sustainability Coordinator and 7 Generations blogger, added that excess and overconsumption are problems she addresses in her work, and we talked about ways to convey the message of living simply to younger generations through the platform of the Hōkūle‘a.




*Note: Any untagged quotes are from Nainoa Thompson's Talk Story at Surfer [the Bar] on Weds., Dec. 11, 2013.



Thursday, November 14, 2013

He'eia Fishpond Ballad

Inspired by Samuel Coleridge's classic nautical ballad "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner," my Literature of the Ocean class and I crafted a poem to commemorate our trip to an ancient Hawaiian fishpond. Each student composed one stanza, trying to stay true to the style, meter, and cadence of the mariner's tale. They laid out the stanzas one by one and arranged a narrative. Here is our He`eia Fishpond Ballad:

All photos by Kira Tamashiro

                                          Hawaiian's key to life -- working
                                          with the ocean to land
                                          provides for present and future
                                          connecting hand in hand.                 [Kelina Tongg-Woodall]

                                         Through the Ko'olaus we travel
                                         to the green east we go.
                                         Lessons to learn, stories for each
                                         of the past, much we'll know.                       [Anthony Isham]
                
                                         Together chanting loud and clear,
                                         We slowly start to see
                                         The landscape, pleasing to the eye,
                                         The calmest place to be.                                 [Taylor Kuroda]

                                        The wall of rocks passed one by one
                                        We walk on it today.
                                        Sustainable for centuries,
                                        The ancients knew the way.                             [Ms. Knoetgen]

                                         The pond provides us nutrients
                                         A gift from salty seas.
                                         Makaha allows fish to breathe
                                         the gentle ocean breeze.                             [Sarah Oyadomari]

                                         The ocean takes you in waist deep,
                                         a shiver jolts your spine.
                                         Small trembles of excitement near,
                                         but you make it -- just fine.                             [Melisa Kegans]




                                         The jagged rocks do graze our feet
                                         The pain that we endured.
                                         With caution students look for them
                                         In murky seas obscured.                                    [Miranda Yip]


                                       
                                         As Lupe swims around the reef
                                         he waits for those who steal.
                                         Those who do will perish for sure;
                                         they think he is not real.                                     [Josh Adachi]

                                         He glides beneath the water's top,
                                         The people unaware.
                                         If he sees danger near the pond,
                                         the poachers best beware.                                    [Evan Lum]

                                         Lupe drags the fisherman down.
                                        A harsh message to send;
                                        The lesson is taught by mano,
                                        This is truly the end.                                   [Keegan McCrary]

                                        The blood within the mangrove bleeds
                                        And yet we cut them down
                                        For they invade and crowd and kill
                                        the native plants around.                                   [Brendan Seto]

                                        I passed the muddy twigs to you
                                        we formed a heaping mound,
                                        and as the day continued on
                                        it fell down to the ground.                               [Ashley Osumi]

                                        Preservation of the land,
                                        for the coming generations.
                                        Cutting of the mangrove
                                        from the time of the plantations.                     [Chase Shimizu]

                                        Surrounded by invaders,
                                        The defenders purge the land.
                                        The importance of the 'aina
                                        is put into my hand.                                        [Tyler Takeuchi]

                                        A chain of rocks from mauka side,
                                        Passed hand by hand to sea.
                                        Now torn by roots of mangrove trees,
                                        Revived I wish it'd be.                                     [Maddie Moser]

                                       The chain of bodies flows along
                                       The green, suave immense.
                                       With dripping sweat for what belongs
                                       to them -- and people next.                                   [Nalu Josiah]


Thank you to our knowledgeable and entertaining guides, Kelii and Kanaloa, and a shout out to Mr. Stu Matsunami for driving the bus, the English Dept. for funding this field trip, Dr. Peter Webb for helping me marry Coleridge to the fishpond, Ms. Kira Tamashiro for coming with and taking pics, and Mrs. Allison Blankenship for starting the process of making it happen in the first place.



Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Immersion and Connection



The ocean has always had an immense impact on the human imagination. We continue to fill the ocean with meaning, among other things (with meaning as probably the most innocuous addition). I spend some of the best parts of my day thinking about the ocean critically in a class I teach, Literature of the Ocean, at 'Iolani School. Outside of the classroom, I like to drift into reveries, visualizing surf, or meditating to achieve a state of awareness where my mind becomes . . . like the ocean.  

I spend the most sublime moments of my life immersed in the water or riding waves. The Pacific Ocean and the islands of Hawaii lured me to O'ahu from New York City. A child of the Rocky Mountains, I've lived in the north Atlantic and the mid-Pacific, with stints around the Caribbean Sea, Indian Ocean, Mediterranean, and the Pacific Northwest coast. Through my journeys, I've cultivated a deep connection and fascination with the ocean.

                                                                                                                                             Kanaio, Maui

When conceptualizing the ocean, how can we comprehend its contained infinitude? Maybe that's it -- the depths and the magnitude of the ocean -- that attracts and frightens us. As John Steinbeck wrote, "An ocean without its unnamed monsters is like a completely dreamless sleep." This idea seems to illustrate the connection between the ocean and the literary imagination. We thrive on the creative act of naming, and in that act we give meaning to everything around us. The ocean still contains unnamed, undiscovered creatures. I've heard that we know more about space than we know about the ocean. Perhaps the concept of the unnamed, unknown in the ocean's abysses connects to the undiscovered, unexplored realms of our selves and the mysteries of our lives. 

The ocean seems to connect everyone's lives somehow, and has brought various cultures together as a venue for sea-faring exploration and human migration. Through the lens of poet Derek Walcott, the oceans are full of history and cultural memory. In an imagined dialogue between a colonist and a Caribbean, Walcott writes,
                                      Where are your monuments, your battles, your martyrs?
                                      Where is your tribal memory, sirs?
                                       In that grey vault. The sea. The sea
                                       has locked them up. The sea is History.
                                                                                                        ("The Sea Is History")


The Hokule'a


Looking to the sea as a location of history and cultural knowledge, the Hokule'a is currently completing its Hawaii Malama voyage, sailing and docking around the Hawaiian islands before leaving on its world-wide voyage.  The Hokule'a World Wide Voyage is also improving environmental protection and promoting other values of interconnection. Most often docked here on O'ahu in the care of the Polynesian Voyaging Society, the Hokule'a has and will continue to serve as a transformative and empowering mechanism for educating our students. 

The Hokule'a was recently docked in Hawaii Kai and one of my Literature of the Ocean students, Keegan McCrary, was there to greet the boat. 
Photo by Keegan McCrary

After Kailua, the boat sailed to Waimanalo and brought the community together on the shorelines. For people who are interested in the Hokule'a and the a'o it's forming, there are opportunities open to educators who want to support the voyage and participate in outreach.

This voyage is much more than just a sail around the world, not that a world-wide sail isn't a dream.  The Hokule'a crew is preserving the methods of navigation used by the ancient Hawaiians in their immigration from Tahiti, and the Hokule'a itself is sailing without the use of modern technology. 



Literature of the Ocean will be following the activities of the Hokule'a WWV and we, along with many other people on 'Iolani campus and throughout the world, will learn lessons from the voyage.  There's a film crew on board the boat to record stories as they happen. I'm excited to be privy to the story of the Hokule'a mission of spreading peace and ocean awareness around the world.  This has the potential to be life-changing for so many, and to improve the fate of the ocean itself.  With the Hokule'a in mind, I'm going to keep thinking and writing about the transformative experiences that take place at sea, on shores, ships, and islands, and ways that we can give back to the ocean through service, globally and locally.

On the local front, Literature of the Ocean recently visited He'eia Fishpond on the windward side of O'ahu and learned about a sustainable indigenous method of fishing that still exists in a few places in Hawaii. We stood in awe of the place, the 800 year-old walls that surround the pond and the stories the pond contains. We were waist deep in the ocean on our way to and from the fishpond's invasive mangrove rebellion, which we worked to clear away. Hacking at the mangrove to the sound of chainsaws, we felt connected to the ocean and to the past while helping to preserve the pond for the future.

My students and I are learning everyday about current events that affect the ocean, and looking for ways to help heal the oceans from the numerous ways that we harm it, including the fairly recent Molasses spill in Keehi Harbor. We all have to stop polluting the oceans. Speaking of which: wondering what to do with all of those old plastic bottles? Use your imagination, like these giant fish sculptures made of discarded plastic in Rio.