To Save an Island
Ritte and Sawyer built their base camp near an ancient fishing shrine, denoted here by the kiʻi pōhaku (petroglyph).
He could feel the force of the ocean, the push and pull of the current, the power of each wave crashing into him. He could see the wind sweep across the sea, firing water droplets-turned-bullets into his face. He could hear the chanting in his head; the voice of the great ocean god: “ʻAne hiki mai, ʻane hiki mai kākou. Lehua lanalana ʻo Kanaloa. E pae, e pae, eia lā ka leo!” You are almost there, almost there. Brave ones so boyuant in the sea of Kanaloa. Land, land, here is the voice. George’s dreams were so vivid, and he could tell that he was slowly losing his mind.
His friends Ritte and Sawyer were still back on Kahoʻolawe Island searching for food and supplies for the base camp. They thought it would be best if George went back to Maui with their two watermen to protect him from the spirits wrecking his mind.
“Ay Ritte, what do we do with him? He asleep again.”
“Beats me brah. Try wake him.”
George had found an area of soft red dirt to lie down on not too far from the base camp. They couldn’t stray too far or they risked being discovered by the Navy. Sawyer found his way over to George’s dirt bed; his body curled up, his clothes dusted with a thin layer of the red dirt surrounding him. Sawyer carefully crouched over him and watched him sleep. George barely made a sound; he had to lean in almost touching his face just to hear the air faintly escape his nose. Even more worrisome, George’s sleeping body looked stiff as a board. There was clearly something going on in George’s mind that Sawyer knew he couldn’t comprehend. Sawyer tried to wake him.
“Ay George! Ay! Wake up!”
Nothing. This time he shook his body.
“E ala mai! Wake up!”
George’s eyes sprang open, but he didn’t make a sound. He just stared at Sawyer’s hairy calf right in front of him.
His friends Ritte and Sawyer were still back on Kahoʻolawe Island searching for food and supplies for the base camp. They thought it would be best if George went back to Maui with their two watermen to protect him from the spirits wrecking his mind.
“Ay Ritte, what do we do with him? He asleep again.”
“Beats me brah. Try wake him.”
George had found an area of soft red dirt to lie down on not too far from the base camp. They couldn’t stray too far or they risked being discovered by the Navy. Sawyer found his way over to George’s dirt bed; his body curled up, his clothes dusted with a thin layer of the red dirt surrounding him. Sawyer carefully crouched over him and watched him sleep. George barely made a sound; he had to lean in almost touching his face just to hear the air faintly escape his nose. Even more worrisome, George’s sleeping body looked stiff as a board. There was clearly something going on in George’s mind that Sawyer knew he couldn’t comprehend. Sawyer tried to wake him.
“Ay George! Ay! Wake up!”
Nothing. This time he shook his body.
“E ala mai! Wake up!”
George’s eyes sprang open, but he didn’t make a sound. He just stared at Sawyer’s hairy calf right in front of him.
George Helm spread his message of Aloha ʻĀina (love of the land) throughout Hawaiʻi in the form of kanikapila, jam sessions in local Hawaiian communities.
“We worried about you brah. You been sick lately.”
He seemed to pay no attention to Sawyer.
“Well? You alright?”
George paused, looked up at him and said, “He uku maoli ia, he i‘a no Kaho‘olawe.”
Sawyer was taken aback. He spoke Hawaiian but didn’t know what George meant. It came out of nowhere, made no sense to him, and what worried him more was the fact that George was staring at him as serious as ever with his deep black eyes.
“What does that mean?”
“He is an uku, a fish of Kaho’olawe.”
Sawyer still made no sense of what George said. Hawaiian language is often clouded in hidden meaning called kaona, whereby double and sometimes triple meanings could be derived from a single sentence. Sawyer remained puzzled going through possible interpretations in his head to no avail. George continued.
“When you take something, you're going to pay. Uku, to pay. Lawe, to take.”
Even with its meaning revealed, Sawyer still didn’t know George’s intent of saying this particular ʻŌlelo noʻeau. He didnʻt want to ask further questions, his mind was more concerned about the well-being of his friend than about the riddles he spun.
“We gonna go back to base camp ‘kay. E hele mai, let’s go.”
Ritte, and the two watermen Kimo and Billy were standing around a fire pit they had just dug when George and Sawyer returned to camp.
“He’s awake, finally!” Ritte shouted.
He ran up to George and Sawyer and walked George to a nearby rock to sit him down.
“George we need to talk to you.” He said.
“You know the original name of this place?” George blurted.
Brief silence. The four other men looked at each other bewildered, wondering if George even heard Ritte say anything.
“Ah.. no. George we need to..”
George cut him off.
“Kohe Malamalama ‘O Kanaloa.”
Another silence, this time they let him continue.
“Kohe means vagina. It could also mean womb. In Hawaiian thinking, all life comes from the womb, from mother Earth. Malama means shining, and shining could mean direction. See... the light directing to certain places. Malama could also mean sacred. And Kanaloa, the god of na kai ‘ewalu, the eight seas. Take those three things into consideration. Kohe, the womb, the vagina. Malamalama, light, direction, sacred. Kanaloa, the ocean god.”
The men followed George’s story intensely, taking in every word that came out of his mouth.
“Right from this island, underneath the water, there is a mountain range that connects itself to Kahiki, to Tahiti. Directly, straight! And there is a channel here called Kealaikahiki, the road to Kahiki. In other words, this place was where the ancients meditated at the stars and navigated their way back and forth between here and Kahiki, our ancient homeland. This is what the name Kohe Malamalama ‘O Kanaloa tells us. This is why we occupy this island.”
The men were touched by George’s speech, but feelings of pride were soon overcome by feelings of worry. Everyone, including George, knew in some capacity that he was not well. Ritte sat down next to George and put his arm around his shoulder.
“Mahalo George that was beautiful. But… we need to tell you something. We think you should go back to Maui. Billy and Kimo will take you, they will protect you on your way back.”
George had a blank look on his face. Sawyer stood in front of him and looked him in the eye.
“George, you gonna go, okay?”
“What about the hoʻokupu ceremony? I need to be here for that.”
“Ritte and I have it covered, we’ve been over it many times.”
George felt worried about this especially. The thought of him missing out on the hoʻokupu offering ceremony was more terrifying to him than swimming 5 miles in the open ocean back to Maui. The ceremony was for his patron god Lonoikamakahiki, a Hawaiian chief elevated to the status of a god due to the miracles he is said to have performed on his subjects. George was obsessed with him, and even went so far as to try and prove that Lonoikamakahiki is his ancestor. During the hoʻokupu, one offers chants, prayers, and a physical offering to a god that is ceremonially placed on a shrine. Protocol is very strict, and even the slightest slip-up is said to incur the wrath of the gods.
“Don’t worry George, everything gonna be okay. If we ever get caught we’ll see you back on Maui.”
He was uneasy, but he had no other choice but to leave the island. George, Billy, and Kimo started for the coastline at Hakioawa, paddleboards in tow. Kimo and Billy expected to make it to Maui in less than three hours, just before the sun would set.
“E hoʻomākaukau? Ready?”
“’Ae. E hele mai.”
Kimo and Billy looked back to see George facing the island with this head down. He was apologizing to the island for his incompetence, and he vowed he would return again.
Not wanting to force George into the deep blue water, Kimo and Billy jumped inside and paddled out into the ocean. Hearing the loud splashes of the famous Maui watermen, George jumped in after them.
The trip was focused and involved very little time for rest. Billy looked up to the sky and noticed that a storm was rushing in quick. He hoped it wouldn’t hit until they were at least a mile away from Maui, but his hopes were soon crushed when he felt the first water droplets splash against his face from above.
They soon found themselves in the surf around Molokini, a small crescent-shaped rock island two miles off the coast of Maui when conditions took a turn for the worst. Gale warnings were in full affect and thirty-foot waves were crashing into the cliffs of Molokini. The ocean swells were overwhelming the three men, and they struggled to breathe without inhaling water.
Billy and Kimo had George’s safety in mind, and they were both willing to sacrifice themselves if it meant George would be okay. Billy had a conjured up a dangerous plan that would have the group split up.
“I’m going back to Kaho’olawe for help. I’m going to get captured by the navy and have them rescue you.”
Kimo volunteered to go in his place, but Billy refused. Kimo was a better waterman than he was, and if anyone was going to do a better job at protecting George, it was him. Kimo and George continued forward and Billy paddled back toward Kaho’olawe.
Unable to escape the surf, George and Kimo began to tire--their muscles getting weaker as each wave smashed into their weary bodies. It was exactly like the dream George had had earlier, while he was sleeping on the red dirt. It was with this realization that he knew it was his time, the gods foretold it to him in that dream: he and Kimo would spend their last moments as the playthings of the ocean god Kanaloa. The ocean surrounded them, enjoyed their feeble attemps to gasp for air, grabbed them, pushed, pulled, and tossed them around.
He thought of Kahoʻolawe.
Ane hiki mai, ʻane hiki mai kākou.
He thought of his people.
Lehua lanalana ʻo Kanaloa.
He thought of his music and his voice
E pae, e pae, eia lā ka leo!
George knew when they were beat, and he hoped Kimo knew too. He let the ocean god take him--his lungs filled with ocean water, his arms and legs went limp, his senses faded, and his body fell into the mouth of Kanaloa.
He seemed to pay no attention to Sawyer.
“Well? You alright?”
George paused, looked up at him and said, “He uku maoli ia, he i‘a no Kaho‘olawe.”
Sawyer was taken aback. He spoke Hawaiian but didn’t know what George meant. It came out of nowhere, made no sense to him, and what worried him more was the fact that George was staring at him as serious as ever with his deep black eyes.
“What does that mean?”
“He is an uku, a fish of Kaho’olawe.”
Sawyer still made no sense of what George said. Hawaiian language is often clouded in hidden meaning called kaona, whereby double and sometimes triple meanings could be derived from a single sentence. Sawyer remained puzzled going through possible interpretations in his head to no avail. George continued.
“When you take something, you're going to pay. Uku, to pay. Lawe, to take.”
Even with its meaning revealed, Sawyer still didn’t know George’s intent of saying this particular ʻŌlelo noʻeau. He didnʻt want to ask further questions, his mind was more concerned about the well-being of his friend than about the riddles he spun.
“We gonna go back to base camp ‘kay. E hele mai, let’s go.”
Ritte, and the two watermen Kimo and Billy were standing around a fire pit they had just dug when George and Sawyer returned to camp.
“He’s awake, finally!” Ritte shouted.
He ran up to George and Sawyer and walked George to a nearby rock to sit him down.
“George we need to talk to you.” He said.
“You know the original name of this place?” George blurted.
Brief silence. The four other men looked at each other bewildered, wondering if George even heard Ritte say anything.
“Ah.. no. George we need to..”
George cut him off.
“Kohe Malamalama ‘O Kanaloa.”
Another silence, this time they let him continue.
“Kohe means vagina. It could also mean womb. In Hawaiian thinking, all life comes from the womb, from mother Earth. Malama means shining, and shining could mean direction. See... the light directing to certain places. Malama could also mean sacred. And Kanaloa, the god of na kai ‘ewalu, the eight seas. Take those three things into consideration. Kohe, the womb, the vagina. Malamalama, light, direction, sacred. Kanaloa, the ocean god.”
The men followed George’s story intensely, taking in every word that came out of his mouth.
“Right from this island, underneath the water, there is a mountain range that connects itself to Kahiki, to Tahiti. Directly, straight! And there is a channel here called Kealaikahiki, the road to Kahiki. In other words, this place was where the ancients meditated at the stars and navigated their way back and forth between here and Kahiki, our ancient homeland. This is what the name Kohe Malamalama ‘O Kanaloa tells us. This is why we occupy this island.”
The men were touched by George’s speech, but feelings of pride were soon overcome by feelings of worry. Everyone, including George, knew in some capacity that he was not well. Ritte sat down next to George and put his arm around his shoulder.
“Mahalo George that was beautiful. But… we need to tell you something. We think you should go back to Maui. Billy and Kimo will take you, they will protect you on your way back.”
George had a blank look on his face. Sawyer stood in front of him and looked him in the eye.
“George, you gonna go, okay?”
“What about the hoʻokupu ceremony? I need to be here for that.”
“Ritte and I have it covered, we’ve been over it many times.”
George felt worried about this especially. The thought of him missing out on the hoʻokupu offering ceremony was more terrifying to him than swimming 5 miles in the open ocean back to Maui. The ceremony was for his patron god Lonoikamakahiki, a Hawaiian chief elevated to the status of a god due to the miracles he is said to have performed on his subjects. George was obsessed with him, and even went so far as to try and prove that Lonoikamakahiki is his ancestor. During the hoʻokupu, one offers chants, prayers, and a physical offering to a god that is ceremonially placed on a shrine. Protocol is very strict, and even the slightest slip-up is said to incur the wrath of the gods.
“Don’t worry George, everything gonna be okay. If we ever get caught we’ll see you back on Maui.”
He was uneasy, but he had no other choice but to leave the island. George, Billy, and Kimo started for the coastline at Hakioawa, paddleboards in tow. Kimo and Billy expected to make it to Maui in less than three hours, just before the sun would set.
“E hoʻomākaukau? Ready?”
“’Ae. E hele mai.”
Kimo and Billy looked back to see George facing the island with this head down. He was apologizing to the island for his incompetence, and he vowed he would return again.
Not wanting to force George into the deep blue water, Kimo and Billy jumped inside and paddled out into the ocean. Hearing the loud splashes of the famous Maui watermen, George jumped in after them.
The trip was focused and involved very little time for rest. Billy looked up to the sky and noticed that a storm was rushing in quick. He hoped it wouldn’t hit until they were at least a mile away from Maui, but his hopes were soon crushed when he felt the first water droplets splash against his face from above.
They soon found themselves in the surf around Molokini, a small crescent-shaped rock island two miles off the coast of Maui when conditions took a turn for the worst. Gale warnings were in full affect and thirty-foot waves were crashing into the cliffs of Molokini. The ocean swells were overwhelming the three men, and they struggled to breathe without inhaling water.
Billy and Kimo had George’s safety in mind, and they were both willing to sacrifice themselves if it meant George would be okay. Billy had a conjured up a dangerous plan that would have the group split up.
“I’m going back to Kaho’olawe for help. I’m going to get captured by the navy and have them rescue you.”
Kimo volunteered to go in his place, but Billy refused. Kimo was a better waterman than he was, and if anyone was going to do a better job at protecting George, it was him. Kimo and George continued forward and Billy paddled back toward Kaho’olawe.
Unable to escape the surf, George and Kimo began to tire--their muscles getting weaker as each wave smashed into their weary bodies. It was exactly like the dream George had had earlier, while he was sleeping on the red dirt. It was with this realization that he knew it was his time, the gods foretold it to him in that dream: he and Kimo would spend their last moments as the playthings of the ocean god Kanaloa. The ocean surrounded them, enjoyed their feeble attemps to gasp for air, grabbed them, pushed, pulled, and tossed them around.
He thought of Kahoʻolawe.
Ane hiki mai, ʻane hiki mai kākou.
He thought of his people.
Lehua lanalana ʻo Kanaloa.
He thought of his music and his voice
E pae, e pae, eia lā ka leo!
George knew when they were beat, and he hoped Kimo knew too. He let the ocean god take him--his lungs filled with ocean water, his arms and legs went limp, his senses faded, and his body fell into the mouth of Kanaloa.
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I can recall the way your voice would fill the room
And we would all be stilled by your melody But now your voice is gone and to the sea belongs All of the gentle songs that you had harbored Hawaiian soul How could you leave us You’ve not been lost at sea You’re only wandering Hawaiian soul We sing your melody And send them out to sea You know the harmony They say before you left to seek your destiny That older voices called and drowned your laughter But I believe you knew what you would have to be A beacon in the storm to guide us after Words & Music by Jon Osorio & Randy Borden Composed to honor the memory of George Helm and Kimo Mitchell Begins at 9:15 adjacent the YouTube Video |
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Kahoʻolawe’s rough landscape is juxtaposed with the islands (from left to right) Lānaʻi, Molokaʻi, and Maui in the background.
