Kā Makahiki Hou!
It’s 7 a.m. on a clear, cold Saturday morning at Waimea Park, where the 6th annual Kā Makahiki will soon begin. Pomai Bertelmann and Chad Paishon are making final preparations. These two are a constant quiet, yet strong force, waʽa crew and educators that possess multifaceted abilities, grounded in Aloha, that are focused on perpetuating Hawaiian cultural practices that support the health and well-being of the keiki. Pomai tells me that, although this is the 6th year for Kā Waimea Makahiki, 3 years previous to the 2006 celebration, Kā Makahiki participants from Hawaii traveled to Molokaʽi.
Kā Makahiki had been a tradition in the islands for centuries and was revived about 30 years ago with the renaissance of Hawaiian Cultural practices. Lono, the God of the Makahiki festival, has a kuleana that includes clouds, winds, rain, sea, growth and fertility. In 1982, as part of the effort to reclaim and heal Kahoʽolawe, a sacred island dedicated to Kanaloa, through the Protect Kahoʽolawe Fund ʽOhana and with the guidance of the Kanakaʽole ʽOhana, what was probably the first public Makahiki ceremony since 1818 was conducted on Kaho'olawe.
Kā Makahiki, which begins with the appearance of Makaliʽi (Pleiades) rising at sunset, beginning a period of time called Ikua, which by western calendars is the end of October and the beginning of November. Marking the new year, Makahiki was a time of instructive ritual, harvest, peace and games that tested physical and mental strength. It’s all about growth and connection and Kā Waimea Makahiki had that in abundance.
The crowds on the field representing Hāmākua, Puna, Ka’u and Kohala are a testament to the efforts of many dedicated kumu and haumāna over the years. Groups of keiki are schooling around the field in preparation for the opening protocol. Chad Paishon, sporting a white tuk, and looking like a white capped wave, all strength and calm, moving smoothly through the gathering participants, microphone in hand, calls out to “E ho’omakaukau” (get ready) and directs the districts to their places along the border of the field. The protocol calls for bare feet, which on this morning means much shivering, but the keiki are ikaika (strong).
The kahu calls, “Hele mai, hele mai, hele mai” and the first group comes to the line to stand and deliver. Their voices call out in chant and they are answered by the hosts, who are now lined up on the Hāmākua end of the field. Bowed, eyes on the ground, tributes held at forehead, representatives from the group pass their tributes to the attendants and walk backwards with eyes still downcast. Hāmākua is represented by a group led by Lanakila Manguil; Kamehameha School, led by Rod Floro, represents Puna; Kohala is represented by Kumu Pua Case’s halau, HPA, is led by Kūwala Anakalea and even the Zumbalinas, almost making it an A to Z spectrum. I happen to be standing with Aha Punanaleo ‘o Waimea Hawaiian Language immersion preschool, as I am a sometimes volunteer and was touched to my core as these small keiki with kaleo nui chanted their piko. It touched everyone’s heart.
The last group was Kanu o Ka ‘Aina. They looked like a massive mountain gliding to center field with the oldest in the middle, cascading down to the youngest on either side. Their haka rang through the crisp air as the sun was rising, shooting rays of hope to the grateful gathering. When they were finished, as if cleaved by one of Pele’s eruptions, the mountain parted to join the circle and completing a lei nui with myriad kinds of blossoms, strung and held there by the positive power of ancient Hawaiian wisdom. E ho mai!
After a short break, the games began. There were game stations bordering the field that were identified with bright yellow banners. Here are a few of the games: