I had to think in the moment.
A lei was required for ho’okupu. Only leaves from the ha’upu ferns were available, along with a few buds of the natural ilima. Luckily, Hao was present, which is why I was able to take out my pocket knife and cut skinny strips from the bark, which I used to wili, or bind the ferns and flowers together. It took a few minutes to weave the lei together, but once it was done, we proceeded to the spot. At the beginning of the trail into the deep forest, a quaint and humble house presented itself. Sitting on the porch on a stately chair was an old Hawaiian woman whom we all greeted with aloha. She didn’t reply, which, for some reason, we didn’t take as being rude. Instead, we felt this was her place, and although we were simply passing by, we may have also been intruding. I held the lei up to her, so I could show her that it was a ho’okupu, an offering. She nodded slightly, and we continued with our trek.After a few minutes, we found the entrance to the lava tubes below. Had Charles, our guide, not seen it, we would have continued walking on for who knows how long. Yet, there it was. Before we stepped down into the cavernous tunnel, I made an offering of the lei to all that dwelled in the ma’ukele. Akua, kupua, ‘aumakua, the greater and the lesser, to announce our intentions and to ask permission that in our mere presence as kanaka, that we may dwell for a short while. A welcoming wind swept through the area and caused the canopy above to move about as if they were hands waving to us from above. With a clear sign of approval, we descended into the lava tube, and that is where we offered our hula to Pele.
E Pele, E Pele, Ka’uka’ulī ana,
E Pele, E Pele, hua’ina hua’ina
E Pele, E Pele, ‘oni luna, ‘oni luna
E Pele, E Pele, ‘oni lalo, ‘oni lalo
E Pele, E Pele, a’o kuli pe’e nui
He Inoa no, Pele
The underground lava tube reverberated the sound of the ‘ipu heke as its down beat seemed to shake and rumble the earth. After the hula, an eerie silence lingered in the air, one that made us feel as if we were not alone, even though nothing corporeal was in our presence. We took that as a sign to leave. I climbed carefully out of the lava tube, and upon all of us getting out, we chanted an ‘oli of great thanks to those who allowed us to be there. The trek leaving the forest was easy and felt lighter than when we were walking in. Passing the quaint home on the way out to the entrance, we saw a young haole man sitting in the chair where the old Hawaiian woman had sat earlier. We greeted him and he asked us if we hadn’t seen the signs, which were posted at the head of the trail. We hadn’t and we apologized, not meaning to trespass.
“We did see the tūtū wahine sitting there,” I told him. “We gave her our aloha, she was quiet but very nice.”
“What’s a tūtū?” He squeaked.
“The old Hawaiian woman,” I said.
“Oh, I’m the only person that lives here, bro, there’s no one else but me,” he replied. “I put up these signs earlier because I was told that there’s the possibility of an eruption. Since there are lava tubes all over this forest, it might be dangerous.”
Not seeing one sign either going or leaving, we were all covered with chicken skin. Who was that kupuna wahine? What is unusual is that one in our group remembers seeing that woman the same way. I couldn’t recall what she looked like. My one hula sister said the kupuna wahine had white hair in a low bun. Another said she had long black hair, while another hula sister said that it was a young Hawaiian girl and not an old woman.
Who might that have been? I have an Idea, but I’d like to know what you think?
Loved it
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