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Life Onboard |
LAST UPDATE
February 7, 2007
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| site design imagesparkle.com |
| January 28, 2007 |
Cutting Through the Hawaiian Hype: Showing the Genuine Spirit of Kanaka Maoli Culture – Leimaile Quitevis |
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| Unadorned, Leimaile introduces herself to Peace Boat participants |
When Leimaile Quitevis stepped on stage to introduce herself as a living branch of Lihu'e, one of many guardians of Hawaii's indigenous culture and wahi pana, she wore no make-up, flowers, or eye-catching colors. “I want you to see just my spirit,” she explained, her face glowing with serenity. Leimaile joined part of the 55th voyage to share the deep spirit of Hawaii with participants, and to teach them the richer aspects of hula that are not usually taught in its commercialized form. She also spoke about how many indigenous people no longer have access to some of their wahi pana – sacred lands that include the mountains, valleys, and streams described in some hulas – because they have been taken over by the U.S. military. |
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| In Guatemala, Leimaile pays respect to the ceiba, a tree revered by Mayans as a door to ancestors. |
There are many different aspects to hula, Leimaile explained. The Kahiko hula traces stories and histories. The Oli keeps the geneology of the Kanaka Maoli, Hawaii's native people. Auana, is a more modern form of hula that tells important historical stories, but also has fun, risque sides to it. “Before Westerners came, before missionaries, there was no shame when it came to sensuality and sex,” said Leimaile. “It was a beautiful part of life. Without it, we wouldn't be here.” Hula is also a reflection of life, she said. “If you really want to become a good dancer, you have to observe nature and pay attention to life. To the ocean, wind, and mountains. To the rain, and how it moves.” Though the steps of hula look simple, she added, careful observation of the natural world takes a lifetime of discipline. |
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A drawing by a native Hawaiian depicts being fenced off from land being used by the military—and the vision of it being restored |
In Hawaii, however, it's getting harder and harder to observe the wahi pana that inspired many hulas, because so much of these sacred places has been taken over by big resort developers and the U.S. military. The U.S. military has gated off much Hawaiian land for bases, training grounds, spy facilities, and housing, thereby denying the Kanaka Maoli access to their cultural and spiritual heritage. “We need our land to not be covered in concrete. She needs to breathe,” said Leimaile. |
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| Accompanied by her ukelele, Leimaile sings a song of resistance and resilience |
To help safeguard Hawaii's nature and prevent further threats to Kanaka Maoli culture, Leimaile and her husband Kamoa work as cultural monitors – a title given to them by the U.S. military, but which they have changed to Kia`i, meaning guardian or protector. Together, they spend much of their time identifying sacred sites on the islands, trying to gain access to some of the areas held by the military, and documenting many of the violations to existing laws that the military has carried out. “With the turn of the key of a bulldozer, hundreds of years of history and cultural identity can be erased,” she said, quoting Hawaiian indigenous activist Terri Keko'olani. Because the nature of her work is so time-consuming and frustrating, Lemaile uses the spirit of hula and other aspects of Kanaka Maoli culture to keep her centered. “I have to really be careful to do what I'm doing out of aloha for the land, and not out of hate for what they are doing,” she said. “Aloha is always so much more powerful.” Aloha is love – the highest form of intelligence, she explained.
To learn more about the campaign to demilitarize Hawaii, visit www.ilio.org or www.kahea.org. To learn more about hula, visit www.huapala.org. |
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