Nā Iʻa Kupua o ka Moana I ka wā e ʻike ai ʻo Pūpūkanioe, ke kupunawahine o Kūʻīlioloa, i ke koko o kāna moʻopuna e lana ana i ke kai, kāhea ʻo ia i nā kūpuna kāne kupua, iā Niuhimoalawaokamoana, Hīhīmanunui, a me Puhilaumilo a hele ai e kōkua i ka moʻopuna e make ana iā Loheloa: ʻO nā puhi a pau o ke kai ma kekahi pōʻai, ʻo nā hīhīmanu nō hoʻi a pau ma kekahi pōʻai, a ʻo nā manō me nā niuhi nō hoʻi o ke kai ma kekahi pōʻai; a hoʻokahi nō ʻo Puaʻahiwalani me kona nui kino humuhumu. Ua hui kēia mau ʻaoʻao ʻelua i kahi hoʻokahi, a ua hoʻomaka ʻia kekahi hoʻouka kaua ikaika loa ma waena o lākou. Ma kēia hakakā ʻana a ua poʻe hiena nei o ka moana, ua make ihola ʻo Puhilaumilo a me kona poʻe iā Puaʻahiwalani; a he nui nō hoʻi o kona mau kino lau manamana i pau i ke ale ʻia e nā niuhi moalawa o ka moana kai uli, kai hohonu. Ke ʻike maila nō ʻo Loheloa i kēia paio ʻana o kona hoa ʻau kai (Puaʻahiwalani) me nā kupua ʻekolu o ka mokupuni o Pūpūkanioe, a ʻo kona manawa nō ia i hopu aʻe ai i ka ʻāʻī o Kūʻīlioloa a wiliwili aʻela i ua ʻīlio nei, e like me ke kanaka e wiliwili ana i ka ʻāʻī o kekahi moa kāne. Ke kūpaka nei hoʻi ua ʻīlio kupua nei me kona ikaika a pau, akā he ʻole kona hemo mai loko aku o nā ʻumiʻi pūkani ʻana a Loheloa. I kēia wā i kāhea iho ai ka leo o ka mauli ʻuhane o ua ʻīlio nei iā Loheloa i ka ʻī ʻana iho, “E Loheloa—ē! E ola au iā ʻoe, ke kama ikaika o Hawaiʻi Kuauli. Ola au iā oe, noho kauā aku nō hoʻi au ma lalo ou.”

With Koaiʻe as his canoe and his paddle Hoakakaihoeakalawakua, Loheloa set out on his second trip to Kuaihelani. He made his way up the island chain, battling the most powerful aliʻi and kupua (shapeshifting supernaturals) of each island. With him was his own kupua pig companion, Puaʻahiwalani. After defeating all of his opponents, Loheloa had a final feast on Kauaʻi, then set out on the last leg of his journey. As he paddled forward, the island faded from view, then Niʻihau also disappeared into the blue depths. The sea became rough and ominous clouds overhead warned of impending danger. A massive waterspout moved rapidly towards Loheloa’s canoe, then Kūʻīlioloa, the kupua monk seal, reared up from the ocean. It towered over him, jaws wide open, ready to swallow him whole. Loheloa stuck his paddle into the seal’s mouth so it couldn’t close its jaws, then reached in and pulled its guts out. Blood poured forth and quickly drifted on the currents over the limu ʻeleʻele, turning it red (the origin of limu koko). It washed onto the beach and Kūʻīlioloa’s grandmother, Pūpūkanioe, picked it up, smelled her grandchild’s blood, and immediately sent Niuhimoalawaokamoana, Hīhīmanunui, and Puhilaumilo to the rescue. Puaʻahiwalani turned into a school of humuhumu and a full out ocean battle ensued. Puhilaumilo fell first and Kūʻīlioloa knew his kūpuna were no match for Loheloa. His spirit begged for mercy, so Loheloa restored his life and ended the battle. They reached a truce and Loheloa continued, uninterrupted, to the shores of Kuaihelani.

Just like the honua (earth) each of us comes from a spark so wewela (intensely hot) that it melds the essence of two separate people into a single form. This new entity is nurtured in the ipu ʻaumakua (womb) of the woman. There, a tiny world is constructed, a house in which this being grows - "ka hale aʻa o ke kanaka." The aʻa is the amniotic sac that holds the nalu or lapawai (amniotic fluid), which cushions and protects the child. Spoken of as "ka honua mua," the first earthly foundation, the ʻiewe is the connection from mother to child that allows for nourishment from her to reach the developing baby through the piko (umbilicus). The ʻiewe is our first anchor point and our most critical foundation. As such, the handling of ʻiewe and piko upon the birth of a child are of the utmost importance. ʻIewe are washed in the ocean, then buried, swum out to sea, or burned, among other practices (it varies by place and family). Returning the first honua to the honua we live on is a powerful way to reaffirm the connection of a child to their ʻāina hānau (birthplace). As births have moved from homes to hospitals, some people have been denied their child's ʻiewe. This right is now being assured by the work of Native Hawaiian Legal Corporation (NHLC) and families that have brought cases forward since 2005. For more on the story of our rights to keep ʻiewe and the awesome work of the folks at NHLC, visit our website.

The name ʻiliahi identifies four species found only in Hawaiʻi: Santalum paniculatum (Hawaiʻi), S. haleakalae (Maui), S. freycinetianum (Oʻahu, Molokai, and varieties on Lānaʻi and Kauaʻi), and S. ellipticum (all main islands and Kauō, a.k.a. Laysan). The deeply fragrant heartwood of some of these species was used by Hawaiians to scent kapa cloth, make medicine, and sometimes to construct a musical instrument called ʻūkēkē. In the late 18th and early 19th century, this lāʻau ʻala (fragrant wood) was highly desired by the Chinese and became a major commodity. The story of the sandalwood trade in Hawaiʻi is famous for its impacts on the people and the forests. Kamehameha I placed a kapu on the cutting of young trees and had a desire to manage the resource for the coming generations. However, large debts accumulated in his and other chiefsʻ dealings with American traders who knowingly inflated the prices of items for which pay in sandalwood was promised. The first flag representing the Hawaiian Islands was created for the vessel carrying the very first shipment of sandalwood to Canton. Kamehameha knew this would signal to other ships in port that his kingdom was involved in trading. During the reign of Kamehameha II, increasing debt in combination with a lifting of the kapu mentioned earlier resulted in a near wholesale loss of sandalwood forests. Today, ʻiliahi species face formidable challenges to survival: their dryforest homes (excluding S. paniculatum, a wet forest species) are extremely rare habitats and rats are quick to scarf up their big delectable fruits. Still, biologists and others committed to seeing these species flourish once again continue to propagate them and try to protect the areas where wild individuals still exist. Kō ʻili waianuhea i ka wai ʻula ʻiliahi - Your skin made cool and fragrant by the wai ʻula ʻiliahi (a famous water of Waimea, Kauaʻi).

Known to plant geeks as Marsilea villosa, is a beautiful little water fern that looks like a four-leaf clover. Indeed, one must be lucky to catch a glimpse of this endangered species as it only occurs on Oʻahu and Molokai (it is no longer seen on Niʻihau and not known from the other islands). The fact that it grows and reproduces in pools formed by seasonal flooding adds to its elusive beauty. Weedy grasses, feral animals, coastal development, and off- road vehicles have all contributed to the habitat destruction that limits the places now available for this species to thrive in. One locality where it occurs in abundance today is known by its same name and was acknowledged in chant by Hiʻiaka during one of her visits to Oʻahu. As she and her entourage neared Hanauma on their canoe, they called out to the natives of this area for food. Being a dry and arid place, the natives replied that they had no food and were continually searching for the small leaf ʻihiʻihi and the water it floats in. This reply, given with aloha, was enough sustenance for the time and Hiʻiaka and her companions sailed on. It must have been a dry spell during her visit, as when there is ample rainfall, this plant (with its ability to reproduce both vegetatively and by spores) grows in dense bright green mats. In her chant, Hiʻiaka also acknowledged the water of Kanonoʻula , a place near ʻIhiʻihilauākea. Ka ʻihiʻihi kaukolo i ka wai o Kanonoʻula - The ʻihiʻihi that creeps along in search of the water of Kanonoʻula.

As the primary receptacles used by our kūpuna, ipu (gourds), and especially hue wai (water gourds), are a beautiful metaphor for the human form. Like children, ipu were cultivated and tended with the utmost care, molded and shaped, gorgeously decorated and lovingly carried. The hue wai pueo was likened to a woman's body and her womb to an ipu inherited from the most remote ancestress. Our bodies are miniature versions of the cosmos, as seen in the story where Wākea creates the universe from a gourd. He cuts an ipu and casts the poʻi (cover) above, forming the heavens, and the meat and seeds, forming the moon, sun, planets and stars. He leaves the bottom portion below to form the earth. The ipu is a kinolau (physical form) of the god Lono, who came to Hawaiʻi from Kahiki, bringing with him knowledge of planting, peace and prosperity, which we celebrate during Makahiki season. Lono ka ipu iki, Lono ka ipu nui - Lono the small gourd, Lono the large gourd. From a chant by Lanikāula to Kamalālāwalu in the story of Lonoikamakahiki. Hālapa i ka mauli! Excite the flame of life within! From the "Pule Ipu," a prayer recited when boys were initiated into the men's house. Design inspirations: traditional hue wai from Niʻihau now at the Bernice Pauahi Bishop Museum.