| The following story about Na Aikane o Maui Cultural Center in Lahaina first ran in our October-November 2022 issue, long before a wildfire destroyed the town of Lahaina, Maui on August 8, 2023. Unfortunately, Na Aikane o Maui, along with most of the Hawaiian and Polynesian cultural treasures and historical documents it contained, did not survive. “House of the Caretakers” now stands as a testament to the importance of what the center sought to protect and serves as a reminder of what has been lost. |
In a corner of Lahaina most pass without notice-old tennis courts, a park, a parking lot-there is a hint of what was. Off to one side, water stagnates in a small ditch: the last visible vestige of a time when water flowed plentifully from the West Maui Mountains, feeding a fishpond that surrounded the sacred home of Hawaiian royalty, Mokuula, which is where that parking lot now sits.
Mokuula was an island in Mokuhinia-a great, man-made fishpond said to have been home to Kihawahine, a moo (lizard) deity whose name "means the clear voice in the heaven," says historian, cultural expert and master carver Sam K. Kaai, who's considered a "living treasure" by the State of Hawai'i. "Her presence made this place sacred. So this was the holy of holies, and all of it was filled with water. That little ditch you crossed? That's the only water left," his voice rising to emphasize each of those last three words. "Sacred ground doesn't mean anything to anyone, but for us it is a whisper on the wind. We're trying to make it a living song."
The "we" he speaks of is the Na Aikane o Maui Cultural Center, located in a humble seventy-five-year-old wooden building just across the four-foot bridge spanning the ditch. That's where you'll find Sam among an abundance of treasures, stories and knowledge of place.
"Na aikane" means "the caretakers," explains Keeaumoku Kapu, president of the nonprofit that runs the center. "The aikane's job was everything, the aina [land], the people, the past, present, the future generations, to make sure that if we're gonna make changes we have to have a reason. If not, don't change it."
It is a kuleana (responsibility) Na Aikane o Maui takes seriously. In 2011 the state awarded the nonprofit a long-term lease on the building, which had stood empty for a year. It was originally built as a cafeteria for sugar plantation workers at Pioneer Mill Company. Later, when the plantation workers went on strike, the building served as a soup kitchen. Turning it from a sugar industry facility into a center for the preservation of Hawaiian culture marks a symbolic turning point.
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"We are of the place, not from the place," says Keeaumoku Kapu (ABOVE RIGHT) holding a laau palau pohaku, a war club he made for his father. As president of the nonprofit that runs Na Aikane o Maui Cultural Center in Lahaina, it's Kapu's mission to preserve and perpetuate Maui's Hawaiian history and culture. (ABOVE LEFT) One of a pair of kii (carved images) that Sam Kaai made for Hokulea, a replica of a Polynesian voyaging canoe, on its first voyage to Tahiti in 1976. On the opening spread, Kaai lays out pieces for a game of konane on a board he carved.
"We had big plans for this place, and the plans basically turned into a pu'uhonua," a place of refuge, says Keeaumoku. "A place where our people could come and learn. A place dedicated to retrieving generational knowledge. We're about preserving and protecting our traditions and culture through language, music, dance." Before the pandemic, hula halau (hula troupes) would practice in the main room, and practitioners of the Hawaiian martial art of lua would train here. The farmers union held workshops, and the center hosted community meetings and discussions with government officials.
And Na Aikane taught the history of this National Historic Landmark District, which was once the seat of the Hawaiian kingdom's government before it was moved to Honolulu. "Before COVID we had every school, every college; all the teachers, all the hotels would come here," says Keeaumoku wife, U'ilani Kapu, treasurer of Na Aikane o Maui. "Even teaching the original place names holds value," Keeaumoku says. "For instance, just the name Front Street, that wasn't the original name. The original name was Ala ka Mo'i, the pathway of the king. Shaw street was Ala ka Mamo, the way of the people." Children "should know the truth of their backyard," U'ilani says. "It gives them pride, and they go home and teach their parents, because so much was lost and they didn't know."
"We are of the place, not from the place," says Keeaumoku, who's often poring over maps and documents or the collection of rare books in the center's research room and library. The public is invited, by appointment, to dive in with him to research a specific interest, like finding out about the history of a family property. Often people will bring or send documents or photos for Keeaumoku to keep and catalog. "We get plenty family coming from the Mainland, and they're soul-searching," he says. "They all end up over here, and I become the docent of carrying information that families provide."
Kaai, 84, now resides at Na Aikane o Maui, and many of the artifacts he has created over his life are housed there. (BELOW) Kaai with an ipu, or gourd, wrapped with cordage he made himself. In addition to artifacts, Na Aikane o Maui's research library is a repository of information, including genealogies, historic land titles and survey maps (ABOVE).
Over the years the center also became the repository for 'iwi kupuna (ancestral bones) found on a beach down the road at Puamana Park. The park closed in January 2021 because beach erosion exposed an ancient burial ground. Seven sets of remains have been found so far, some by Keeaumoku, others by local beachgoers and tourists, including one who brought a skull back to the hotel, which then called Na Aikane. If people find iwi, they are required by law to call the police or the State Historic Preservation Division. Keeaumoku served on the division's Burial Council, so he knows how to handle the 'iwi properly. "We malama [take care of] them, we wrap them in tapa [bark cloth], we place them respectfully in an area until we get word from the state on what we need to do. So this is not just a cultural center."
In fact, in September 2021 the center also became a home, and as Keeaumoku says, "it billowed into this museum of national treasures with a live-in docent known as Sam Kaai." Last summer Sam needed a new place to live, where someone was always nearby. Word spread and reached Keeaumoku.
"And I said, 'Oh yah, of course, most definitely we're gonna help kokua [assist] with that,'" Keeaumoku recalls. "And not just having the bedroom but building his carving room and making sure all his personal belongings are well taken care of. Never realized at that time that this guy had so much stuff!" he laughs. A lifetime of artifacts Sam has made or collected now have a home. These items, Sam says, "basically represent the tools of previous generations. Keeaumoku just found solutions and gave." When I ask how he feels about it, Sam simply replies, "Maikai." Good.
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(ABOVE LEFT) An 1864 copy of the Bible in olelo Hawaii, the Hawaiian language. (ABOVE RIGHT) A prized war club that Kaai brought back from the Marquesas Islands, "a very old and honored possession," says Kapu.
Many of Sam's treasures are now on display in a room past the research library. It's open for small group tours by appointment, a very rare opportunity to see his collection and hear personal stories from a kupuna (elder) of such high esteem. Sam was born in Hana, Maui, in 1938 and raised in Kaupo, a remote southeastern area of the island. At 84 he still walks upright, with a regal presence that's hard to ignore. It wasn't long ago that he used a staff to keep his balance, but it seems that since moving here he stands taller and no longer needs the assistance.
With a flashlight to illuminate the details of his artifacts, Sam approaches the open doorway to his "museum" and pauses in front of the two large wooden ki'i (statues). One represents a male reaching toward the heavens, the other a female, Kihawahine, the moo of Mokuhinia. Sam carved these in 1975 and lashed them to the aft of Hokulea, a replica of an ancient Polynesian voyaging canoe that sailed from Hawaii to Tahiti, navigating without modern instruments, in 1976. "The idea of reaching into a place that there was nothing and pulling out a craft that would stand against mighty seas that would roll ships over," Sam intones about the beloved canoe that helped spark the cultural revival now called the Hawaiian Renaissance. He, too, had been a voyager and recalls a bird that flew above Hokulea for four days straight. "You get the feeling he was watching over you," he says. "Standing the watch when you were doubting everything."
One wall of the room beyond the kii is lined with weapons and clubs-gifts from Tonga, Samoa and other Pacific Islands, as well as ones Sam carved. "I was privileged to see caves in Kaupo that either the old man [his grandfather] says, 'No touch 'em, you just get to see,' or he brought them out, took a look at them. ... Every one that he showed, I go make one."
(ABOVE) Kapu holds a niho palaoa, a whale-tooth pendant that in ancient times was a symbol of royalty, given to him by a family member. Along with it came a kuleana, a responsibility: to protect it and pass it on to the next generation, he says. (BELOW) Record of Lahaina family names and land titles in the center's research library.
On shelves along the opposite wall are ipu, or gourds, that long ago would be filled with water. Another ipu he created for carrying the fishhooks he carved. Sam shares moolelo, or stories, about each object, as well as memories of his youth in a Hawaii now mostly slipping into memory. He recalls how every home had a wooden tool to open a coconut. He speaks of his grandmother, who "considered the head sacred, so 'No slap, no touch, no pull the hair.' I mean you do that and she says something, and your place at the table will not be served that night."
The room is large but feels small because of everything in it: a board on which the ancient, checkers-like game of konane is played, rows of stone adzes, shelves of coral and stone poi pounders. If you're lucky, Sam will grab the large pu (conch shell) and make it sing. He did so for me but wasn't satisfied with the quality of the sound. "No can," he said, and put it back. He has high standards, but I heard a note of greatness and my arms prickled with chicken skin. Or maybe Sam will take a moment to beat one of the pahu (drums) with a small woven rope with a large knot at the end. Even better, maybe he'll sing an oli, a chant, to the rhythm.
Keeaumoku says Sam seems to have a healing effect on people, "Especially if people get things on their mind, the best person to give 'em is Sam. He'll talk your brains off for two hours and you going forget about the reason why you're mad!" You can tell that Sam enjoys sharing, but cautions he needs to cap the number of visitors to no more than five at a time, otherwise "things get touched and things drop," he says.
The center is not just preserving the past but protecting the present. The display cases are quickly filling up with family heirlooms and artifacts found around Lahaina, all donated, brought here for safekeeping. Sam's tours and the center's programs are all manuahi (free). "There's a thing in Hawaiian belief," Sam says. "If you give first, it will be multiplied."
"You gotta give in order to receive," Keeaumoku concurs. "Not monetarily, but richness in the things that we do." He recalls something an elder in Aotearoa (New Zealand) once told him: "'If I cannot tend to my people, then I don't belong sitting in the position that I am.' So that's why we do what we do."
