:
March 2004 |
Visit
to Waipi'o: Building a Foundation in the Mud
By Linda Copman
Click here to view all photos
of the Cornell students' Waipi'o visit.
When you see Waipi'o for the first time, or even if you have
seen the Valley a thousand times, it never fails to take your
breath away. This is the "Valley of the Kings,"
the place where the Kingdom and a large population of Native
Hawaiians resided prior to Western contact. The Valley is
once again filled with water, as some of the flows that had
been diverted to irrigate sugar cane plantations to the south
have gradually been restored to nourish the valley floor.
Some of the water is still diverted to Hamakua agribusinesses,
but there is noticeably more water here now than there has
been in the recent past.
I am here with The Kohala Center and a group of eight undergraduate
students from Cornell University and their professor, Dr.
Alexandra (Alex) Moore. The Cornell students are spending
a semester in Hawai'i, where they can see, touch, smell, feel,
and experience the dramatic landscape of the Island and the
incredible earth forces which interact here on a daily basis.
The Kohala Center (TKC) is the host academic institution.
TKC recognizes Hawai'i Island as a living classroom for scholars
and students from around the world. The Center welcomes and
assists research and teaching programs that embrace Hawai'i's
living communities and cultures in their pursuit of academic
excellence. TKC hosts programs in the fields of environmental
studies, ocean sciences, alternative energy, and global medicine.
The Cornell program is TKC's first venture into semester-long
learning experiences, where traditional science instruction
is being combined with an introduction to the spiritual and
cultural landscape of Hawai'i in the format of a unique new
class: "Contested Terrain." This class is co-taught
by TKC Executive Director, Dr. Matthews Hamabata (himself
a Cornell alumnus) and by Hawaiian cultural scholar, Noe Noe
Wong-Wilson, of the University of Hawai'i. The students are
being introduced to local history, local culture, local places,
and Hawaiian spiritual beliefs. Aunty Noe Noe, as the students
now respectfully address their new teacher, has led the students
on a series of field expeditions, which incorporate service
with learning. The students have visited the Makali'i sailing
canoe, the historic Kohala district, and now Waipi'o Valley,
where they have been invited to work in a taro lo'i at the
back of the Valley.
We start the day with a chant led by Aunty Noe Noe, and a
brief introduction to the history of Waipi'o by our host,
Kai'ena Bishaw. Kai'ena is a young man who is working on his
Hawaiian Life Styles Associate of Applied Science degree in
Mahi'ai (taro farming). Kai'ena reminds us that "everything
is living, everything is spiritual." Even the alien species
which now inhabit the Valley floor are part of the wealth
of this place. The Hawaiian word for wealth, "waiwai,"
comes from "wai," or water. Water is the source
of life, and water nourishes the taro which grows in the Valley.
Taro, according to Hawaiian mythology, is the "older
brother," and the Hawaiian people are the descendents
of the taro. Kai'ena pauses, looks around at the group, and
says, "This is kind of deep. It took me a while to understand
it…"
We are then told to leave all the "bad stuff," i.e.
the worries about work and the town thoughts, behind. We walk
down, down, down the winding road that leads to the Valley
floor, and we cannot help but become light and carefree. Who
can think about anything else when confronted with such astounding
scenery? Dr. Betsy Cole, Deputy Director of The Kohala Center,
tells me of how she landed here 25 years ago, and ended up
opening a gas station in Ka'u. She describes how beautiful
her home in Wai'ohinu was: "that land was one of the
few things in my life I have ever been truly passionate about."
And that is how this Island affects us: it is a life-changing
experience, and one which lingers in the mind for decades.
As Mark Twain wrote: "No alien land in all the world
has any deep strong charm for me but that one, no other land
could so longingly and so beseechingly haunt me, sleeping
and walking, through half a lifetime, as that one has done.
Other things leave me, but it abides; other things change,
but it remains the same. For me its balmy airs are always
blowing, its summer seas flashing in the sun; the pulsing
of its surfbeat is in my ear, I can see its garlanded crags,
its leaping cascades, its plumy palms drowsing by the shore,
its remote summits floating like islands above the cloud wrack;
I can feel the spirit of its woodland solitudes, I can hear
the splash of its brooks; in my nostrils still lives the breath
of flowers that perished twenty years ago."
We
have now descended into one of the loveliest spots on earth:
Waipi'o Valley. We board the back of the truck, and a few
adventurous students ride on the roof of our 4WD, surfer-like.
We pass wild ponies ambling among ramshackle shacks, we ford
streams, we smell the rotten sweetness of jungle overtaking
abandoned cars and other vestiges of the modern world. Back,
back, back we go, followed all the time by some unknown poi
dog, who faithfully tags us till he cannot go on. And still
we drive. And then, at last, we have arrived. Before us is
a collection of half indoor/half outdoor farm dwellings. The
kitchen is outside, and pots are hanging from the roof of
the lanai. The picnic table is laden with ripe fruits of every
variety: papayas, mountain apples, bananas, lychees. The refrigerator
is a cooler restocked with ice by visitors and friends. We
are greeted by the farmers who live here; apparently the same
family has worked this land for generations. The place has
that uniquely Hawaiian feel: the paths between the loi are
well worn, and everything which can be recycled has been.
Everything which cannot be recycled is strewn around the outskirts
of the encampment in odd clumps: drums of used motor oil,
piles of treadless tires, plastic forks.
We are invited on a short tour. The buildings are surrounded
by lo'i. The lo'i are tended by different farmers, who act
as custodians of their patches, and are responsible for sustaining
the health of that particular patch during their tenure. Kai'ena
plans to study Tropical Agriculture at the University of Hawai'i,
and he is experimenting with different techniques for growing
taro. Instead of the traditional rice-paddy style lo'i, he
will construct "pu'e pu'e" or small mounds in his
patch. His theory is that nutrients from the fertilizers he
applies to the pu'e will not leach away as badly as they do
in the flat paddy-style lo'i. He will apply modern scientific
methodology to study the differences in yields, pound for
pound, between his patch and the neighboring flat patch. This
is a long-term project, and Kai'ena will devote the next several
years of his life to testing the results of his theories.
He tells the group, "It may not look like much now, but
give me a few months."
We
are invited to harvest some taro from a neighboring patch,
that we can cook and sample later in the day. Taro does not
come from a seed; instead, new plants come from "huli"
or cuttings from existing plants. We are told to treat the
plants as if they are people, because, to the Hawaiians, they
are people: even more than people - family. "Don't squeeze
their necks," we are reminded. Most of the group descends
gingerly into the mud. They step firmly all around the roots
of the plant they wish to pluck, in order to separate the
roots from the ground. Women with their monthly period are
asked to not enter the lo'i, in respect for a long-standing
Hawaiian kapu. These women can be useful in other ways, to
clean the roots of the plants, to separate the leaves (lu'au)
from the stalks (haha), and to separate the keiki (oha) from
the mother plants. Nothing is wasted. All cuttings will be
replanted in another patch elsewhere on the property. After
we have gathered enough taro for our midday meal, about one
bucketful, we move to an uncultivated patch, where we will
help to prepare the mud for planting. Standing together in
a long row, elbows linked, we move first to the left and then
back to the right, chanting and squelching in the mud.
Aunty Noe Noe joins me on the bank. We talk about how this
program is a new way of teaching science. She says that the
students are experiencing things that will "awaken their
own ancestral knowledge." By becoming involved in an
environment that is foreign to them, by smelling it, feeling
it, and touching it - they are using all their senses to experience
Hawaii. They are gaining an appreciation for how difficult
it was for Hawaiians to live in this environment, and for
how successful they were at sustaining a large population
here. It is hard work preparing the mud for planting taro,
and the students are definitely learning what a labor-intensive
process taro production is. Aunty Noe Noe says, "they
are getting a foundation in the mud that they will remember
their whole lives."
Melissa Duhaime, a Cornell senior majoring in Microbiology,
chimes in, "On Kauai, we were invited to chew on the
dirt, to really feel it. After 21 years of living in New York,
Hawai'i has been a big reality shift. It took me five weeks
to adjust. At first I felt out of control. I was used to reading
textbooks for 4-5 hours a day, and it felt like here I wasn't
learning. Now I realize that I am taking in things every second.
I am learning when I'm talking, walking, and sitting, not
just when I'm studying. I know I have already learned more
here than at home. When my aunt visited last week, I took
her on a tour of the island. As I told her all about the different
volcanoes, I was really impressed just to listen to myself
talk." When I asked Melissa what her favorite thing about
the program is, she replied, "all the time outside, no
walls, and not having to wear shoes." When she hears
Melissa's answer, Melissa's professor reminds her how all
that time outside had really bothered her at first.
Professor Alex Moore says that the first thing she tells the
Cornell students who are interested in studying in Hawai'i
is a statement she heard from a ranger at Pu'uhonua O Honaunau
National Historical Park. The ranger said, "In ancient
Hawai'i the misuse of natural resources was an offense which
was punished by death." According to Alex, this statement
is shocking enough to refocus the students' attention from
the little things that often occupy all our attention to the
bigger things that she really wants them to understand. "Ancient
island dwellers knew that you either lived sustainably or
you didn't live. To really understand something, you need
to construct the foundation for learning yourself. This is
totally unlike sitting in a lecture listening so that you
can pass the test." The Cornell program marries field-based
experiential learning with Hawaiian cultural practices and
understanding. No longer is science something that is disembodied
from reality. In this program there is a balance between culture
and science, and it is this balance that makes the knowledge
"stick" for the students.
Alex describes the Cornell program as follows, "Hawai'i
is the best place in the world to examine interactions among
the various parts of the Earth system - ocean, atmosphere,
biosphere and solid earth - and to consider the relationships
between human communities and these systems. Our students
have spent much of their first month in the Islands learning
about native Hawaiian ecosystems, and how special and fragile
they are. On a visit to Kaua'i we worked with the Koke'e Resource
Conservation Program removing invasive weeds from the forest
in Koke'e State Park. On Maui we experienced the unique high-altitude
plant communities found in Haleakala National Park. Here on
the Big Island we have documented the colonization of new
lava flows by pioneer plant species, and on a visit to the
Amy B. H. Greenwell Ethnobotanical Garden we learned about
the traditional uses of native Hawaiian plants, as well as
the current conservation efforts directed toward saving some
of Hawai'i's most endangered species. Where else can one view
plants such as Ma'o hau hele, a native hibiscus, whose wild
population has been reduced to just two individual plants?
Throughout these experiences we have been walking along the
line between despair and empowerment. So much has already
been
lost, and so many organisms are now on the brink of extinction.
Yet we have met so many people devoted to saving what remains.
Working alongside these people - seeing how individuals can
and do have a positive impact on the world around them - are
lessons in empowerment that will stay with us long after we
have left the Islands."
The kind of intense experiences that the Cornell students
have in Hawai'i is what The Kohala Center is all about. According
to Matt Hamabata, TKC Executive Director, "science and
culture can be integrated through educational programs such
as the Cornell program, and young scientists can come to appreciate
the importance of culture and community in their work. This
strategy could shape the future of how science is conducted."
Just
by coming here, the Cornell students have added new dimensions
to their learning. As they spend time here, they develop an
appreciation for the environment and for the culture of Hawai'i.
For Hawaiians the spiritual world is not separate from the
physical world. Hawaiians are deeply connected to the "'aina,"
the land which bore them, and they have a responsibility to
this land. "We're not just going to blow away, says Aunty
Noe Noe. "We are a distinct people with our own culture
and history." Aunty Noe Noe was one of the founding members
of The Kohala Center. As she gets up to go eat lunch, she
reminds us, "This is the whole purpose of The Kohala
Center, to help students understand their responsibility to
the environment and to culture, so that we can replenish this
Island resource."
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