The Aloha Paradigm, page 7
I learn that Hawaii is a monarchy with its own royalty—a king and queen who live in a palace in Honolulu, the capitol of Hawaii. The current King is Kalakaua. King Kalakaua is a loving monarch and takes pride in public displays of Hawaiian music and dance for all. He loves music so he supports the Royal Band, whose thirty-plus members are native Hawaiians.
Meeting the Love of My Life
I am a regular visitor to the Royal Band concerts on the palace grounds in Honolulu. But on one day, at one concert, my life is transformed.
I walk toward the stage and see the most beautiful woman dancing the most beautiful dance in the world. I have never seen such magnificence of movement. I am spellbound. No words can describe my feelings. I am drowning in sensuality. I watch her hips sway and her hands and arms move with sublime grace—up, down, and to the sides. Her long, shiny, midnight-black hair tumbles to her waist and synchronizes with every movement of her hips. I have read about swaying hips, and now I understand their mesmerizing power. The woman’s expressive black eyes show many emotions. One minute they sparkle with joy as she looks up to the sky, and the next moment they reflect awe or a sad, wistful melancholy. Her eyes, her hands, her movements tell a story. Intuitively I know that the movements mean something, but I don’t know what.
I am hypnotized by the dancing goddess. Completely smitten. I long for her performance to never stop. I cannot bear to take my eyes from her. I am engulfed in burning passion. She is wearing a grass hula skirt, a wreath of leaves and flowers on her head and leis over her breasts. I long to touch her and run my hand over her smooth, supple skin. What a divine feeling it would be to pleasure her. I see my hand caressing her in a way that no one else ever has. I want to touch her body ever so gently with tender, feathery strokes that will make her yearn for more. I surprise myself with my own thoughts. I have never had sex. The religious beliefs I had been brought up with insist that sex can only take place when married. Yet my passion grows with every moment that passes. When the music ends, the surreally beautiful dancer descends from the stage and sits in the reserved section of the audience. My usual shyness dissolves. I am compelled to approach her without even an ounce of reluctance. Our eyes meet. I smile at her. She returns the smile as if to invite me over.
“Your performance was exquisite,” I tell her. “I have never seen anything so pleasing to my senses.”
“Mahalo,” she replies, the Hawaiian term for “thank you.” There is sweetness in her voice.
“May I please ask you a question when the band stops playing?” I cannot stop staring at her.
“Yes, you may,” she says with an almost mischievous grin. “My name is Kealaula. And yours?”
“I am Mark,” I reply.
“Ah, Maleko,” she whispers. “You have a beautiful name. It means ‘of the sea.’”
Her words thrill me, and I am gratified anew that I have made the sea journey that has brought me to her. I find Kealaula to be even more arresting up close. Her eyelashes are velvet black. Her eyes and skin are luminous. Her lips are full and sensuous and beg me to kiss them. I know they will taste sweet, like sugar candy. I am mesmerized, intoxicated with love. She is what is missing from my life.
Kealaula turns to me and says, “I must perform one more hula.” I know she wants me to stay. I feel immense joy as she mounts the stage.
I take a seat in the first row and watch Kealaula rhythmically sway to the music of the Royal Hawaiian Band. I am already in love with the Hawaiian culture, its philosophy, its unique way of seeing the world, its thoughtfulness, and its close, respectful relationship with the Earth. Now I am falling in love with a Hawaiian woman. I now know why I am here.
When the dance is finished, Kealaula returns to sit in the chair next to me. She is barely seated before I tell her, “I would be the most grateful man on the face of this Earth if you would accompany me on a walk. Will you do me that honor?”
“I would love to,” smiles Kealaula.
I ask her, “Where should we go? I am a newcomer to the Islands.”
Kealaula looks perplexed. “Really? You are not from Maui? I think we have seen each other before.”
I tell her that I arrived only two weeks ago, that I come from New England in America. “I would be happy to escort you to any area you would like, but I am not certain what would be most enjoyable.”
Kealaula smiles, “Since you are new here, would you like me to be your guide?”
I swoon and say, “Oh, yes, and I will follow you anywhere. I want to learn as much about your world as I can! I want to know about the hula.”
“I can teach you, but as a male hula dancer, a Kane hula, it is a good for you to have a Kuma, a teacher who is a man,” Kealaula says with a lilt of laughter.
As we stroll down to Waikiki beach, we see native Hawaiians in canoes against the background of Diamond Head. I tell her that I have climbed this volcanic tuff cone mountain and seen the vista of the island. She tells me the story, or as she says, talks story, about its name. “Hawaiians call this Le’ahi because it means ridge and the shape of the ridgeline looks like the dorsal fin of a tuna.” Kealaula laughs as she explains, “Westerners, some British sailors in the nineteenth century, named it Diamond Head. They saw the glitter of calcite crystals and thought they were diamonds on the beach. Their brains were focused on getting rich, finding material goods rather than nature’s gifts. Greedy, greedy!” I am absorbing the overwhelmingly beautiful terrain as she tells the story. I am impressed that I can listen and understand since her beauty rivals that of the scenery that surrounds us. We sit on the beach and watch the sunset dappling the sky and the ocean with color. As the sun sets, Kealaula tells me she must go home.
“Will I see you again?” I ask urgently.
“Of course,” she responds. “You are genuinely curious, and Hawaiians love to talk story, so I will help you to understand our beautiful kingdom. ” She suggests we meet on the beach tomorrow, and she will show me Iolani Palace.
I am ecstatic. Anticipating our meeting the next day, I want to bring her something beautiful. It is clear she does not want trinkets or jewels. The Hawaiian custom of giving a lei seems right, and I consult with a lei maker. The lei I choose is made of plumeria, which has a sweet, fruity fragrance like no other flower in the world. Out of many colors, I choose the bright yellow blossoms.
When we meet the next day, Kealaula blushes as I place the lei over her head and onto her neck. She seems very pleased and asks, “How did you know plumerias are my favorite?”
“I just knew. I saw them, and I knew they were for you.”
She puts her hand in mine. The feeling is electric as she leads me down the street. We stroll among colorful shrubs, a multitude of flowers, and huge banyan trees. We amble on toward the palace. Kealaula explains, “King Kalakaua with his wife, Queen Kapiolani actually took the throne in 1874. But they postponed the coronation to 1883 when Iolani palace was completed. He knew that if they held the coronation in the rejuvenated palace along with days of celebration and festivities the Hawaiian people would feel joy and hope. We had parades, fireworks, hula performances, and a public luau. To continue the joy, during official parties, King Kalakaua and Queen Kapiolani sit in the throne room and greet guests in the receiving line. When the Royal Hawaiian Band strikes up a waltz, the room lights up with brightly colored, whirling figures. Happiness surrounds us. You would love to be there,” she says, as she looks into my eyes. “Our King works tirelessly to reawaken our Hawaiian-ness, our culture of aloha—our language, music, hula, chants and all that is Hawaiian. We lovingly call him the Merrie Monarch because he is a man with a zest for Hawaiian life and a heart filled with aloha not only for his for his people, but for the whole world.”
It is beginning to dawn on me that my lovely hula dancer is part of the political power structure I read about. I ask “Do you know the king well?
With great modesty, she answers, “I became close to the King after he chose me to perform hula for the coronation. He then asked me to continue dancing with the Royal Hawaiian Band.
King Kalakaua spends generous sums of money so the band can play for all who want to enjoy the public hula and concerts. All are welcome.
I ask her, “Please forgive me if my question is ignorant, but why does the King need to reawaken Hawaiian-ness?”
Kealaula’s lovely smile shifts to a frown. “It is a long story. Hawaiians have faced massive challenges. Visitors from around the world are threatening our way of life in ways that are not to our benefit. But thankfully, our beloved King and Queen have stood in their way, protected our people, and taken care of our kingdom with aloha over the years”.
Kealaula’s posture changes. She almost cringes. “We are also becoming more and more aware that there are some who have been plotting to directly steal our islands. It is frightening that this group of people are growing in strength and numbers and power.”
I find myself wanting to protect my newfound love from any harm.
“I know King Kalakaua is a genius with great insights into politics. He recognizes there are values to some Western ways from which Hawaiians can learn and advance. Westerners have brought good things like written language. But he is keenly aware that Western traditions and beliefs about acceptable lifestyle create threats to our way of living”.
I find my hair bristling and ask her to give me some examples of this Western folly.
“Westerners have brought some failures. Westerners rejected our thatched grass houses, calling them primitive, but they are proper for our climate. Look at the houses they brought on boats and reconstructed here. These houses were not suited to our weather. The design is impractical, even ridiculous in the islands.” Kealaula laughs.
Kealaula’ s words made me recall the puzzlement I had felt when I looked at the New England houses so unconnected to living in the Hawaii climate. These homes battled, not befriended, nature. They were just plain hot and uncomfortable. She was so right.
“The King wants to be inclusive of all. His heart is bigger than the world. But he knows that Western culture does not offer the aloha that Hawaiian culture possesses. Aloha is a love that has much to offer everyone. The king’s mission is to resurrect and preserve and strengthen our culture of aloha for everyone. Some, but very few, Westerners have these values.”
I find it enraging that outsiders want to disrupt the beautiful Hawaiian culture and its ways of being on the planet.
“Kalakaua’s enemies grow. Some greedy haoles intend to steal our resources. Since he is trying to stop the thievery of these Western businessmen, he bears the brunt of their anger. My friends and supporters of the monarchy call them the Missionary Boys and the Downtown Party. They do not share our King’s joy or his values.”
As I listen I realize how observant, patient and intelligent the Hawaiian monarchy is and what they are up against. I understand that a King who stands in the way of greed will gain enemies.
Kealaula’s anger builds. “The King’s detractors use the nickname Merrie Monarch in a most hateful and derogatory manner. Those Missionary Boys pump out lies that paint a picture of our king as a reckless spendthrift, a squanderer, and a grifter. They call the rebuilding of the palace and the celebration a waste of funds and debauchery. They tell anyone who will listen that the building of the palace and the coronation was greed and self-aggrandizement for the King. It is merely their propaganda against Kalakaua. They have no idea how the King used these events to bolster the Kingdom and his people’s pride. I feel furious at those who make fun of him and even roll their eyes as they laugh. I want to scratch their eyes out, but then I remember I am a woman of aloha with great mana—strength. I did not want to become someone I am not, someone without aloha, someone like them. So, I forgive. I ask my ancestors for help and protection. I feel calm and peaceful when I do. I take in their wisdom.”
I tell Kealaula that I am with her. She looks beautiful when she is so passionate about her king.
She pauses and smiles. “In reality, Kalakaua is a virtuoso of a politician. He negotiates agreements to benefit his people. He makes gains for Hawaiians by wining and dining and drinking others under the table. He makes it seem as if his adventurous side motivates him to seek fame and to be the first monarch in the world to circumnavigate the globe, but he uses his travels to build alliances to strengthen the Kingdom. His sister, Lili’u reluctantly agreed to take the reins of the government during his nine months away. He was the first monarch from Hawaii to visit the United States, returning from his trip with valuable information and good alliances. He was received with royal honors by international courts in Asia, Egypt, and Europe. Queen Victoria in England and the Pope in Rome honored him. He also met with noted intellectuals and inventors like Thomas Edison. He adapted methods of modern science to make the palace progressive. The King travels worldwide not only to learn about how other cultures prosper, but to show case the talents of Hawaiians and inform others about the aloha lifestyle of our people. Kalakaua is our ambassador to the world.”
I see how much she appreciates the monarchy. I ask her to “to please go on. I love to hear you more of this story.”
“Yes, I will. When Kalakaua returned (1881), Lili’uokalani breathed a sigh of relief,” continues Kealaula. “Our King was fired up to increase Hawaiian pride and spread aloha. Out of love for his people, he equipped Iolani palace with the first phone and with electricity and generators—even before the American White House did. He showed how intelligent Hawaiians were.”
She paused and sighed, looking distressed and anxious. “But a dreadful turn of events came about in July. Bullies consisting of anti-monarchists, foreign businessmen and traitors forced our King to accept a new constitution. It decreased the powers of the monarchy. Men armed with guns and bayonets ordered him to sign it. Kalakaua knew these haoles would assassinate him if he did not cooperate, so he signed what we call the Bayonet Constitution. They robbed the power of the people from the Hawaiian monarchy. Can you imagine, their laws limited voting power only to property owners? How horrible. Two thirds of native Hawaiians lost their right to partake in an election. After he signed, he told Lili’u that he was not afraid to die, but he did not want to leave his people. They needed him more than ever. He made a choice at that moment—to work underground to ensure the survival of Hawaii. This constitution also interfered with Hawaiians ability to care for our land, our aina. They are interfering with our responsibility to do our part in our symbiotic bond. If we take care of the land, and love the land, it will take care of us. This is a truth we know in our hearts. Humans are stewards of āina—the land! Humans are not owners of āina. How greedy can you be? We will see how this turns out.”
I want to know more about Hawaiian hurt. I ask her how the missionaries have impacted her people.
“The answer is complicated,” Kealaula tells me. “All missionaries were not the same. Some missionaries had good intentions and were sincerely trying to convert us for the sake of their god and our good. But as decent as they were, they rigidly believed that they had the right view of creation, life and any higher power. They were immoveable in their self-righteousness and many Hawaiians joined these religions. Other missionaries were insincere and motivated by personal gain. Some left behind their descendants who were self-serving and greedy. They grabbed land and political power to make themselves rich.”
“How does that make you feel about them?” I asked.
“It is hard to say,” she replied. The early missionaries came to us at a time when Hawaiian spiritual beliefs were in a state of flux. Our kapu system had laws to tell Hawaiians what they could and could not do. As with any cultural beliefs, there are strengths and weaknesses. Many help a culture to be strong and predictable. Our ancestors sometimes imposed a harsh punishment for hurting resources like water because wai is so important to all Hawaiians in order to live well and securely. Other restrictions were not as significant as in the case of kapu, the men and women were forbidden to eat together.”
I laugh out loud and point out how impractical and silly it is not to let women and men to dine together.
Kealaula mocks me a bit. “Oh, you think Hawaiian kapu is silly? Kapu is no sillier than your Christian ideas that men and women should not make love with anyone but a wife or husband. This is an impractical belief that people should not have sex before marriage. My, my, how do you know if you are compatible?”
I am flabbergasted. I do not have an answer for her.
Kealaula sees she caught me by surprise. She playfully grabs my hand and places it on her breast. She coyly looks at me and lightly pulls my hand down to her vaginal area. “Don’t you want to sample before you commit?”
I am shocked, perplexed and wordless. I don’t know what to say or do.
Kealaula is fully enjoying my confusion. I deftly change the subject and blurt out, “Tell me more about the missionaries”.
Smiling demurely, Kealaula goes on to say, “As I was saying, missionaries arrived at a time when Hawaiians were ins search of a religion and missionaries were in search of converts. As peace loving as Hawaiians are, we do not have a perfect society. We have had our share of wars and violence and unfairness in the past. Ironically, it was a young Hawaiian, “Opukahaia[10] who inspired the first missionaries to come. He saw his parents and his baby brother murdered brutally by warring Hawaiians. He left Hawaii to find a better world. He wound up in a Foreign Mission School in a faraway place called Connecticut within New England-where you say you are from. One family adopted and educated him. He converted to Christianity and loved it so much he wanted to give it to his Hawaiian ohana. He is partly responsible for the first missionary voyage on the Thaddeus, which departed from Boston to Hawaii, maybe around 1819, for what they called the Sandwich Islands. Eighty-four men and one hundred women who were from the American Board for Foreign Missions sailed here. I imagine that the love Opukahaia received in America was in stark contrast to the way he was treated by some of his own people. He died from typhus fever when he was only twenty-six. But Hawaii was changed forever.”
