`Ī`ao Valley In my later twenties I was living in Santa Barbara and received the call that Poppa had died. My uncles told me to come home for his burial. Poppa had been living on O`ahu for many years, but our family is from Maui. He must have known his time was near because he died on Maui.
I arrived back home and the uncles told me that I must help bury Poppa the right way, and
according to his wishes. This made me nervous and agitated. The “right way,” the Hawaiian
way, the way of respecting him as Kupuna, meant taking his body away.
The government does not let you bury people anywhere you want or perform the old ceremonies. That night the uncles and I dressed in black and smeared our faces with black. I was crazy with fear and anticipation. I kept thinking, "Why do I have to do this? They are Poppa’s sons. Why is it my kuleana?" No answer.
We got in the car and drove to the morgue. I don’t know how we did it, but we found his body and took it with us somewhere in Maui. The next part maybe I should not say too much about. It is similar to some Tibetan practices.
We made a fire. I watched my uncles cut up Poppa’s body and remove the flesh. I learned that night that Poppa was not his body. The body is not the real person.
They set aside certain parts, wrapped them tightly in a cloth and set them in a day pack for me. The rest was burned and the ashes carefully wrapped and put in my pack. They instructed me in the rest of the burial and drove away.
Alone and on foot now, I had to walk to `Ī`ao Valley and spend the night. `Ī`ao Valley is the Valley of God, the only God according to the Menehune religion. After nightfall, this valley is fear-inspiring; Hawaiians consider it a gateway to the other worlds. In my lineage we are instructed to perform the burial after spending one night with the spirits in this gateway place. This is what I had to do next and the thought weighed me down as much as Poppa’s bones, my grief at his death, and the memory of the previous night.
I trudged along the road, looking distraught, feeling extremely nervous, and crying. This attracted the attention of a policeman, who stopped me and asked me if I was okay.
“Yes,” I said, “only, I’m hungry.”
“Then why don’t you rest and eat something?”
“No, I have to go somewhere.”
He asked more questions, my anxiety screaming inside, but nothing about what I did last night or my pack. He drove off and I kept walking, but decided I would feel better if I did eat something. When I stopped, he was there too.
The food helped, and I continued to `Ī`ao Valley and followed the river to the place my uncles had told me about. I took off the pack and tied it securely to the branch of a tree. I tie good knots.
From my pack I pulled out the razor they had given me. It was dark now and I was more and more edgy as I prepared to shave off my hair as a sign of my grief. I didn’t have any shaving cream, so this was not easy. Afterwards, I tied around my head the scarf they told me to bring – so I would not attract attention.
I did not sleep much that night, but I was just starting to doze when I heard a loud splash. I struggled against the wave of sleep that was taking me, barely waking up in time to make out the pack floating down the river, leaving a grey path after it – Poppa’s ashes. Frantically, I jumped into the water and got it in time. I tried to keep the ashes from leaking out completely. The spirits were having their sport.
I arrived back home and the uncles told me that I must help bury Poppa the right way, and
according to his wishes. This made me nervous and agitated. The “right way,” the Hawaiian
way, the way of respecting him as Kupuna, meant taking his body away.
The government does not let you bury people anywhere you want or perform the old ceremonies. That night the uncles and I dressed in black and smeared our faces with black. I was crazy with fear and anticipation. I kept thinking, "Why do I have to do this? They are Poppa’s sons. Why is it my kuleana?" No answer.
We got in the car and drove to the morgue. I don’t know how we did it, but we found his body and took it with us somewhere in Maui. The next part maybe I should not say too much about. It is similar to some Tibetan practices.
We made a fire. I watched my uncles cut up Poppa’s body and remove the flesh. I learned that night that Poppa was not his body. The body is not the real person.
They set aside certain parts, wrapped them tightly in a cloth and set them in a day pack for me. The rest was burned and the ashes carefully wrapped and put in my pack. They instructed me in the rest of the burial and drove away.
Alone and on foot now, I had to walk to `Ī`ao Valley and spend the night. `Ī`ao Valley is the Valley of God, the only God according to the Menehune religion. After nightfall, this valley is fear-inspiring; Hawaiians consider it a gateway to the other worlds. In my lineage we are instructed to perform the burial after spending one night with the spirits in this gateway place. This is what I had to do next and the thought weighed me down as much as Poppa’s bones, my grief at his death, and the memory of the previous night.
I trudged along the road, looking distraught, feeling extremely nervous, and crying. This attracted the attention of a policeman, who stopped me and asked me if I was okay.
“Yes,” I said, “only, I’m hungry.”
“Then why don’t you rest and eat something?”
“No, I have to go somewhere.”
He asked more questions, my anxiety screaming inside, but nothing about what I did last night or my pack. He drove off and I kept walking, but decided I would feel better if I did eat something. When I stopped, he was there too.
The food helped, and I continued to `Ī`ao Valley and followed the river to the place my uncles had told me about. I took off the pack and tied it securely to the branch of a tree. I tie good knots.
From my pack I pulled out the razor they had given me. It was dark now and I was more and more edgy as I prepared to shave off my hair as a sign of my grief. I didn’t have any shaving cream, so this was not easy. Afterwards, I tied around my head the scarf they told me to bring – so I would not attract attention.
I did not sleep much that night, but I was just starting to doze when I heard a loud splash. I struggled against the wave of sleep that was taking me, barely waking up in time to make out the pack floating down the river, leaving a grey path after it – Poppa’s ashes. Frantically, I jumped into the water and got it in time. I tried to keep the ashes from leaking out completely. The spirits were having their sport.
Makena Beach, Maui Photo by Pierre Leclerc Next morning I set out without breakfast. The damp pack was still dripping Poppa’s ashes as I headed toward Makena beach, the next place. Along the way some hippie kids gave me a ride all the way there and dropped me off at the side of the road. Cool kids. I turned toward the beach. Strange, as I entered the area, that same officer as there again and despite the scarf I wore he recognized me.
A change had come since last night. I was not struggling with my kuleana; I had become this kuleana, and was being carried in the current of its power. He looked at me. Something was different. I walked on, accidentally dropping two coins to the ground.
“You dropped something,” he called. I slowly turned and looked him full in the eyes, “Don’t pick them up.” He knew then. He knew what journey I was on and let me go. Hawaiian people have certain customs. Hawaiians believe that if you drop anything on the ground, the earth, wandering spirits will enter into it. If you pick it up they can drain off your mana. So we do not pick anything up that has been dropped onto the earth.
I reached the beach and just sat there. I was so very thirsty I could not make it any farther. As I sat, a monk seal came up on the beach. Somehow I knew to follow. I came closer, and as I did, I saw fresh water coming out of a hole in the rocks under the water. Grateful, I filled up my bottle, drank, and sat down again, thanking the seal. It stayed there. I stayed there. Then I knew, something told me, “Give it to him.” So I did. I gave the seal the package of Poppa’s ashes, and then he left, pushing the ashes into the ocean with him. Now I was able to get up and leave that place. Some people came by and gave me food. That’s how I knew I'd done the right thing.
A change had come since last night. I was not struggling with my kuleana; I had become this kuleana, and was being carried in the current of its power. He looked at me. Something was different. I walked on, accidentally dropping two coins to the ground.
“You dropped something,” he called. I slowly turned and looked him full in the eyes, “Don’t pick them up.” He knew then. He knew what journey I was on and let me go. Hawaiian people have certain customs. Hawaiians believe that if you drop anything on the ground, the earth, wandering spirits will enter into it. If you pick it up they can drain off your mana. So we do not pick anything up that has been dropped onto the earth.
I reached the beach and just sat there. I was so very thirsty I could not make it any farther. As I sat, a monk seal came up on the beach. Somehow I knew to follow. I came closer, and as I did, I saw fresh water coming out of a hole in the rocks under the water. Grateful, I filled up my bottle, drank, and sat down again, thanking the seal. It stayed there. I stayed there. Then I knew, something told me, “Give it to him.” So I did. I gave the seal the package of Poppa’s ashes, and then he left, pushing the ashes into the ocean with him. Now I was able to get up and leave that place. Some people came by and gave me food. That’s how I knew I'd done the right thing.
Haleakala back side. Photo by Maui Hikes The next part of my journey, my kuleana, was to climb up the back side of Haleakala to a special cave known to my family. I had been there in my childhood. This is where Poppa’s bones would go. It took me three days. I brought no food but ate what I could find growing naturally along the way and gathered water from the mist that collected on leaves.
How to describe my state of mind during this hike? I was constantly asking myself, “Am I doing this right? Are my ancestors watching me? Will I live through this? Will I get arrested afterwards?” It was a kind of torture going on in my mind. I was very dubious and anxious about my ability to pull this off. I just wanted it to be done, put in the past, in the worst way possible. And every step of the way I was apologizing to my ancestors and to Poppa for not doing it right or botching it up. I wanted to do it right but did not know what ‘right’ was. Even so, I knew the ancestors were with me because things just happened correctly from the few clues to the process that I had been given. I didn’t get lost; I found the trail, and when I came to the crater, the cave was right there.
The cave was spooky inside. You could walk inside standing straight up, but the back was so low you had to crawl, and then it opened into another large chamber. I really did not want to go in there but I felt compelled. It was so dark, absolute darkness, and all I had were a few matches. Growing up in Hawaiian culture fills one with a deep respect for sacred places, and going into one, you have to remember to be extremely respectful and observant. Never, under any circumstances, enter a cave in Hawai`i when you see the image of a headless man. This is
the sign of Kapu, forbidden. Be sure you look first.
I arrived at the cave and cleaned it and then unpacked Poppa’s bones and arranged them carefully according to tradition in the second chamber. The next step was setting the curse so that no one would disturb them. Hawaiian people over our history have sealed the bones of our Kūpuna with a curse and a sign warning anyone who would disturb the area. In this way, we preserve the sanctity of their burial. Before doing this I made all the signs warning of the curse, big and small, all over. I did not want anyone to miss this message. I carved the sign of a headless man in a stone outside the cave, using only a knife. It took me a couple days to carve this.
I spent the night in the front chamber. It was freezing. When everything was set, I recited the curse. It was at this point that I again became confused as to my duty, my kuleana. To be pono, is to not cause harm to others, but this chant was setting a curse that most definitely would cause harm to anyone who disturbed Poppa’s burial site. But to be pono is to perform my kuleana. I struggled with this all day and night and meditated deeply on this conflict of kuleana.
In the end, I finally did it because I realized that someone could actually hurt themselves more if I did not set the curse. Why? Because if you disturb the bones of a kupuna , the ancestors will be extremely upset for having the mana disturbed. To disturb the mana of a dead person is like stealing your ancestors mana or someone else’s ancestors mana. It would usually mean they will come after you as well!!!!!!!
His burial completed, I headed down the mountain. On the way I was still brooding on whether I had done the right thing. But at that moment the mists came up the mountain and wrapped around me like a comforting embrace. Every doubt and fear washed away. I returned down the mountain and it was as if I had never been gone.
How to describe my state of mind during this hike? I was constantly asking myself, “Am I doing this right? Are my ancestors watching me? Will I live through this? Will I get arrested afterwards?” It was a kind of torture going on in my mind. I was very dubious and anxious about my ability to pull this off. I just wanted it to be done, put in the past, in the worst way possible. And every step of the way I was apologizing to my ancestors and to Poppa for not doing it right or botching it up. I wanted to do it right but did not know what ‘right’ was. Even so, I knew the ancestors were with me because things just happened correctly from the few clues to the process that I had been given. I didn’t get lost; I found the trail, and when I came to the crater, the cave was right there.
The cave was spooky inside. You could walk inside standing straight up, but the back was so low you had to crawl, and then it opened into another large chamber. I really did not want to go in there but I felt compelled. It was so dark, absolute darkness, and all I had were a few matches. Growing up in Hawaiian culture fills one with a deep respect for sacred places, and going into one, you have to remember to be extremely respectful and observant. Never, under any circumstances, enter a cave in Hawai`i when you see the image of a headless man. This is
the sign of Kapu, forbidden. Be sure you look first.
I arrived at the cave and cleaned it and then unpacked Poppa’s bones and arranged them carefully according to tradition in the second chamber. The next step was setting the curse so that no one would disturb them. Hawaiian people over our history have sealed the bones of our Kūpuna with a curse and a sign warning anyone who would disturb the area. In this way, we preserve the sanctity of their burial. Before doing this I made all the signs warning of the curse, big and small, all over. I did not want anyone to miss this message. I carved the sign of a headless man in a stone outside the cave, using only a knife. It took me a couple days to carve this.
I spent the night in the front chamber. It was freezing. When everything was set, I recited the curse. It was at this point that I again became confused as to my duty, my kuleana. To be pono, is to not cause harm to others, but this chant was setting a curse that most definitely would cause harm to anyone who disturbed Poppa’s burial site. But to be pono is to perform my kuleana. I struggled with this all day and night and meditated deeply on this conflict of kuleana.
In the end, I finally did it because I realized that someone could actually hurt themselves more if I did not set the curse. Why? Because if you disturb the bones of a kupuna , the ancestors will be extremely upset for having the mana disturbed. To disturb the mana of a dead person is like stealing your ancestors mana or someone else’s ancestors mana. It would usually mean they will come after you as well!!!!!!!
His burial completed, I headed down the mountain. On the way I was still brooding on whether I had done the right thing. But at that moment the mists came up the mountain and wrapped around me like a comforting embrace. Every doubt and fear washed away. I returned down the mountain and it was as if I had never been gone.
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