Return to Our Moʻolelo: Ancestral Lessons of Liberation
Kamalani Johnson, a son of Kahana, Oʻahu, is a PhD candidate in Political Science, specializing in Indigenous politics and political theory at the University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa.
The views expressed in this publication are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the policies or positions of the Pacific Islands Development Program or the East-West Center.
Photo by Studio Kealaula on Unsplash.
More than 40 years have passed of ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi (Hawaiian language) revitalization efforts, and I am still reminded in 2025 of the critical importance of our Indigenous languages to Moananuiākea—the large and expansive bodies of water that unite Pacific Island peoples. While there have been many strides and advancements concerning the revitalization of ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi, namely the generations of children and adults speaking and transmitting ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi to each other and to the next generation, there is still many pressing issues to attend to. As Hawaiʻi fulfills many milestones including the 30th, 35th, and 40th anniversaries of many Hawaiian language programs, I am reminded of an ʻōlelo noʻeau (Hawaiian proverb) by Hawaiian language and knowledge scholar Mary Kawena Pukui. She says, “ʻAʻohe ipu ʻōpio e ʻole ka mimino i ka lā” (“No immature gourd can withstand withering in the sun [without care].”1 What is particularly apt about Pukui’s ‘ōlelo noʻeau is that she points to the importance of moʻokūʻauhau. Moʻokūʻauhau can be defined as genealogy. Thought of differently, it is the succession of thoughts, practices, and traditions that link the past, present, and future. As Pukui references, the ipu ʻōpio (young gourd) is unable to resist the intensity of the sun without first being supported, shaded, and nurtured by its elders. Similarly, Pasifika people today cannot withstand the sun of adversity, without the generational density and dexterity moʻokūʻauhau affords us.
Hawaiʻi’s Practice of Haʻi Moʻolelo and Moʻokūʻauhau
Renowned Kanaka Maoli cultural expert and kumu hula Pualani Kanakaʻole Kanahele defines moʻokūʻauhau as “…a literary introduction to a family lineage. The family line may include humans, elements of nature, sharks, or other forms of life. If important enough in the mythological framework of the social structure, the name is recorded.”2 The thread running through the cultural fabric of an ʻohana (family), Kanahele reminds us that for Kānaka Maoli, moʻokūʻauhau links the human and more-than-human relations from the past, present, and future.
Well into the 19th and 20th centuries, moʻokūʻauhau—the connective tissue of Kānaka Maoli forms of life—also served as the political imperative by which Kānaka Maoli writers sought to strengthen Hawaiian nationalism prior to the illegal overthrow of the Hawaiian kingdom in 1893, and also, to regain it afterwards.3 As Kanaka Maoli scholar Noenoe K. Silva contends, Kānaka Maoli writers “…were committed to writing moʻolelo, moʻokūʻauhau, mele, and other works in ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi, and to perpetuating our ancestral knowledge, including spiritual, geographical, cultural, astronomical, and other knowledge. The work to honor our ancestors is part of the resurgence of our native ontology.”4 For example, in the 19th century, Kalākaua organized the Papa Kūʻauhau Aliʻi, the Board of Chiefly Genealogies, whose goal was to come together to ensure the preservation of Hawaiian knowledge. In so doing, the Board also theorized on Hawaiʻi’s relations to the greater Moananuiākea:
Ma ka Mookuauhau o ko Tahiti poe, ko Samoa a me na Mokupuni ma ke Komohana Hema o Hawaii nei, o ke kumu o ko lakou mau kupuna, aole he hala aku i hope aku o Wakea, oia ka 902 hanauna mai a Lailai mai, aka, o na kupuna o ko Hawaii nei lahui, aia aku i hope o lakou a pau, a malaila e akaka ai mai keia mau mokupuni aku na kupuna a pau o ia mau aina a pau. O ka poe o Nukilani, e kapa nei ia lakou he poe Maoli, ano wale iho nei no lakou. O ko lakou kupuna mai a Hema mai no ia, ke keiki a Aikanaka a o ka hanauna 935 ia mai a Lailai mai o na kupuna o Hawaii nei. O na inoa o na aina o Upolu, o Wawau, o Polapla a me kekahi mau inoa iho i ike ia he mau inoa like me na mokupuni ma ke Komohana Hema aku nei, no Hawaii nei ia mau inoa i ka wa lehulehu o na kanaka, mamua aku o ka emi ana o ka aina ilalo.5
[In the genealogies of the people of Tahiti, Sāmoa, and the islands of the Southwest of Hawaiʻi, the origins of their ancestors do not extend beyond Wākea, that is 902 generations from Laʻilaʻi, however, Hawaiʻi’s ancestors extend beyond all of them, and that’s how we know that all these islands people originate from here. New Zealand’s people, being called Indigenous, are fairly recent. Their ancestor descends from Hema, ‘Aikanaka’s child who is 935 generations from Laʻilaʻi of Hawaiʻi’s ancestors. The place names ‘Upolu, Wawaʻu, and Borabora, and some other observed place names have similar names to those in the Southwest—those names are from Hawaiʻi from when Hawaiʻi was highly populated before the land receded.]6
As moʻokūʻauhau and the commitment to Kānaka Maoli forms of life have undergirded the intellectual work of people like Kalākaua and those that have come before him, it is also a cultural imperative for those of us that come after to do the same.
Pasifika Futures—Moananuiākea’s Practice of Haʻi Moʻolelo and Moʻokūʻauhau
In the Pacific studies field, Hawaiʻi island is famously attributed for Pasifika scholar Epeli Hau’ofa’s conception of Moananuiākea as a “sea of islands.” Journeying over to Hilo from Kona observing Maunakea and Maunaloa growing before his eyes, Hau’ofa realized “The world of Oceania is not small; it is huge and growing bigger every day.”7 Both Hau’ofa’s realization and conception of Moananuiākea as a large expanse—as opposed to small islands in the Pacific—on Hawaiʻi island is no mistake, in my opinion. Generations of Pasifika peoples have always theorized our worlds in expansive ways. As ocean and land-faring people, our ancestors did not limit their reach. How do we know this? Our stories and storytelling practices tell us.8 That Hau’ofa travelled to Hawaiʻi to be inspired to remind us of the interconnectedness of Pasifika peoples is no mistake. Through that action, Hau’ofa became a notch in Moananuiākea’s practice of haʻi moʻolelo and moʻokūʻauhau serving as an inspiration for the next generation of Pasifika peoples to respond to in the same way Kānaka Maoli writers did in the 19th and 20th centuries.
Despite generations of settler colonial cultural erasure including the elimination of our Pasifika languages, haʻi moʻolelo and moʻokūʻauhau are Pasifika practices passed down by our ancestors as seeds of survivance. Like the ipu that requires generational density and dexterity, these seeds have passed through the mouths and minds of many and as such these need to be cherished as would a child—it must be cultivated, guided, and nurtured with aloha. As learning occurs in many Pasifika households, it will be a reciprocal and multigenerational learning process. Critical to our liberation as Pasifika peoples is contending with, confronting, and unmooring ourselves of the many forces that have threatened the life and legacies of these seeds, including heteropatriarchy, homophobia, and racism. To be committed to a liberated Moananuiākea is to be genealogically committed to the lives of our people past, present, and future. How do we know this? Our moʻolelo tells us so. To be committed to a liberated Moananuiākea is to be committed to the vitality of our Pasifika languages in our mouths and minds past, present, and future.
References
1 Mary Kawena Pukui, ʻŌlelo Noʻeau: Hawaiian Proverbs & Poetical Sayings (Honolulu: Bishop Museum Press, 1983), #155, 20.
2 Pualani Kanakaʻole Kanahele, Ka Honua Ola: ʻEliʻeli Kau Mai: The Living Earth: Descend, Deepen the Revelation (Honolulu: Kamehameha Publishing, 2011), 1.
3 Kuʻualoha hoʻomanawanui, Voices of Fire: Reweaving the Literary Lei of Pele and Hiʻiaka (Minneapolis | London: University of Minnesota Press, 2014), xliii.
4 Noenoe K. Silva, The Power of the Steel-Tipped Pen: Reconstructing Native Hawaiian Intellectual History (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2017), 9.
5 Ka Papa Kuauhau Alii o na Alii Hawaii, “Hoike a ka Papa Kuauhau — o na — Alii Hawaii” (1882), 21
6 Translations, unless otherwise indicated, are my own.
7 Epeli Hau’ofa, We Are The Ocean: Selected Works (Honolulu: University of Hawaiʻi Press, 2008), 30.
8 Epeli Hau’ofa, We Are The Ocean: Selected Works (Honolulu: University of Hawaiʻi Press, 2008), 31.