For the last hundred years or so the art and science of taro farming in Hawai'i have almost disappeared. The large scale production of taro began to fade soon after contact with Captain Cooke in 1778. Along with the decline of taro production, the focus on preservation and appreciation of Hawaiian culture has declined, until recently. With the commercial distribution of taro and the retail sale of poi at high prices, small and large scale taro farming have been on the rise to meet the demand. It was not that long ago that people lined up outside of poi mills with their own calabash or muslin bag to pick up poi or had it delivered by horse drawn cart. Today consumers do not have to wait in line for poi (when there is some), but they pay higher prices for distribution and retail services. I had recently rediscovered taro in my diet and realized the high food value it contains. The cost of taro and a curiosity of how and where this food was made inspired me to begin my search for a lo'i, or taro patch, to study. The question I intend to answer is "How is taro grown and how does it relate to Hawaiian culture?"

This paper focuses on the production of taro in the Sovereign Nation of Hawaii's wet and dry taro patches in Waimanalo, O'ahu (referred to by these workers as the Village). While mountain biking, I had run into the workers of the patches in the Sovereign Nation of Hawai'i. This is an area leased to a group of Native Hawaiians that protested the splitting of Hawai'i into three separate categories: state land, public land, and crown lands. They believe crown lands were to be for the use of the native population of Hawai'i. The Hawaiians assert the state has compromised its part of the agreement in what is called the Great Mahele of 1848. They maintain that the state of Hawai'i is in default and that it is committing criminal and environmental acts against the lands ceded to the native population of Hawai'i.

In my discussions with the members, one of them told me that the Waimanalo ranch I live on and had recently felt so good about purchasing was, in fact, land "stolen" from the Hawaiians. The land was sugarcane land until the 1930s, when the Tennessee Valley Authority, which was a commission under the Roosevelt Administration, was assigned the task of reforesting the area. Instead of using indigenous and endemic plants, they reforested with eucalyptus trees which quickly choked out native vegetation because of its acidic leaves and soil sapping tendencies.

Much of my information on the production of taro comes from interviews with three of the members in April and May of 1999. Nihi, a fiftyyear-old, single male, has lived in the Village for only two years and felt that he was not that much more knowledgeable than myself, but was eager to share what he had learned. The second, Steven, has lived in the Village for six years. He is a single, thirty- three-year-old male with one child (five years old). On several of our meetings Nihi's son Noa was there as well. He was formally in the military and worked for the state and federal government. He began his change of lifestyle by simply "being curious about the culture." He felt that he had opened his eyes to the 'aina (land) and that by malama ka 'dina (preserving the land) he felt the land had taken him on his present journey.

Kalo has been grown in large sections of the world for two thousand years. Kalo is found in Egypt, Africa, Europe, Asia, India, and Malaysia and is called de chine, Chinese potato, melange, Kalo, and English Taro. Chinese writings of two thousand years ago mention the cultivation of taro, colocasia esculenta. Taro was one of the plants the first Polynesian settlers brought to Hawai'i about one thousand five hundred years ago (Greenwell, 1947). It was called the canoe crop because it was one of the many plants that the daring Polynesian seafarers moved across the great Pacific Ocean in double hull canoes searching for and settling their new island homes. Kalo survived the long journey across the sea to reach new lands in Hawai'i and as their myths assert, was the staple crop of the Hawaiian diet.

Taro came to have a far more important part in the life of the Hawaiian than any other plant because of the legendary tie of the taro plant with the supreme god of the Hawaiians, Kane. The modern legacy of taro emphasizes the Makahiki which was tied to the god Lono and the kalo growers, to whom this deity was most important, since he was responsible for bringing rain. Because of its religious ties, its occupation of major tracts of land, and its obvious choice as favorite as well as staple food, the taro plant was probably more important to Hawaiians than to any other people in the world.

The importance of taro in the life of Hawaiians is illustrated in two myths. The most common myth has two related parts: Wdkea, the male, and Papa, the female, lived together as man and wife. They created a daughter, Ho'oh6ii-ka-lani, who became more beautiful with each day of her life. Finally Wakea was filled with desire for his daughter and wished to take her as his wife. He was anxious not to arouse Papa's jealousy, so his kahuna (priest) suggested that kapu nights be arranged where men and women should sleep apart from each other. Wakea told Papa of the arranged kapu nights and said that they were commanded by a god. Papa consented to the kapia, and on these nights, Wikea slept secretly with his daughter. After one such night, Wakea overslept his kahuna's awakening song and was discovered by Papa. The two then quarreled and fought, and subsequently separated from each other. In such manner began various kapus which separated men and women.

Ho'ohoku-ka-lani's first child by her father, Wdkea, was born prematurely, perhaps in the shape of a root. When Wakea saw that he had no real child, he buried the strange little body at the east corner of his house. Soon a taro plant grew from that burial place, and Wdkea named it Haloanaka (long petiole or stalk). Later, when a real child was born to Wdkea and Ho'oh6ku-ka-lani, Wakea named him for the elder brother and called him Haloa. This second Haloa became the ancestor of the Hawaiian people. Thus, in kinship terms, taro is the elder brother and the senior branch of the family tree; mankind belongs to the junior branch, stemming from the younger brother. It is interesting to note that Steven told me an almost identical story in our meeting on April 15, 1999, but added that it was traditional for the older sibling to care for the younger ones; therefore, Hawaiians believe that kalo is taking care of them, not vice versa.

Wakea and Papa are often regarded in the Hawaiian mythology as the actual ancestors of chiefs, but in this second myth they have godlike dimensions. In this myth Papa is Mother Earth, Haumea, the Earth goddess herself, and Wakea is the male principle, the father, the light of the day and the bright heavens, the wide-spread-sky. W5kea is also Kane, the fertilizing and generating masculine force found in all of life.

At the beginning of the myth, WAkea/Karte and Papa/Haumea are united in a continuous embrace in such a way that nothing can be born because Father Sky lies so closely upon Mother Earth that there is no space for anything to grow between them. The first act of creation, therefore, is the pushing up of the sky, a pulling away of the masculine element so that the female element may give birth to new beginnings. <P>

Wakea and Papa begin to separate when their daughter is conceived. The daughter, Ho'oh6kQka-lani, is the daughter of the Earth, and she is also the mother of what will be born next. Wakea and Papa are equal partners until Wakea desires their daughter. In this myth, kapu nights were scheduled by the kahuna according to the waxing and waning of the moon. Then Papa is separated from her husband by kapu, and her daughter becomes her husband's wife instead. But Wakea also remains father to his daughter. This was also the beginning of the various kapus which prevented women from eating with men and which forbade them from eating many kinds of food. In old Hawai'i, taro could be planted, harvested, cooked, and prepared only by men; women were forbidden such tasks because of their monthly menses. The word "kapu" means a prohibition, but it also implies that which is sacred, holy, or consecrated.

The connection between taro and Hawaiian culture is poetically expressed in the concept of 'ohana, the family system, which like taro sprouts forth from the single root. Although the taro is harvested when the time is ripe, the plant itself is reborn again and yet again, as cuttings from the taro root are broken off and replanted for the next season. Life cannot die as long as the living water of the soul continues to nourish it.

Before 1778, about three hundred varieties of taro were grown in Hawai'i. Taro is usually cultivated in a complex terraced system of one hundred sixty seven (field ponds) fed by 'auwai (ditches). Wetland taro grows under a slow-moving layer of water throughout its life. At one time, taro fields covered the fertile floors of the windward valleys of all major islands. Today, because of the scarcity of water and agricultural land, only a few such areas remain.

Except for a few large commercial patches, most farmers cultivate taro part-time. Taro fields are quickly disappearing from the rural landscape. Poi, a pounded, paste-like food made from boiled taro and once the most important staple in the Hawaiian diet, is today considered a rare delicacy. Other foods, primarily rice, have taken over as a major Hawaiian dietary staple. In old Hawai'i, taro (kalo) was believed to be primordial and was in fact the staff of life.

When Hawaiian literature speaks of famine, it becomes clear that starvation was not a matter of having absolutely nothing to eat (there were, for example, ample stocks of yams that the early Polynesians had planted in the lower forests and which were plentiful in the time of the early Western explorations), but that there was little or no taro to eat as poi. Seasonal rainfall, in some areas averaging fifty inches annually, gave way to periodic drought, making dryland taro difficult to maintain. It must also be pointed out that the period with the least amount of rain controls the successful cultivation of wetland taro, which demands circulating water. Sweet potatoes, commonly grown in Hawai'i, are far more drought tolerant than taro and must have been relied upon in times of stress. Lack of water would be a major detriment to growth of taro.

Though the maka'ainana (common man), had little to say about his life and the structure of his society, since both of these were regulated by the priests and ali'i (royalty, or chiefs), it is the maka'ainana who fashioned his kinship ties to parallel what he saw in the taro plant. Taro plants form smaller taro plants by "runners" from the parent corm (body of the kalo), making loose circles of smaller corms around a parent plant. Each of the small ones in turn can produce even smaller cormlets. The Hawaiian name for a cormlet is "oha," the stem from which the word 'ohana comes. 'Ohana are the extended family, related in ways like the taro plants in development, and in ancient times maintaining the same relationship to the ahupua'a (a land division). No tighter Hawaiian bond exists than to have one included as `ohana.

The 'ohana concept was important to the common people, but because of royal prerogatives and close inbreeding, almost superfluous for the ali'i. But in the rise of chiefdoms, starting in the fourteenth century A.D., strong restrictions, possibly tied to land ownership, were implemented by the priests. Women were prohibited from worshipping Kdne or any of the other main gods of Hawai'i, and most importantly prohibited from growing, cultivating, or harvesting the taro crop on the grounds that the plant was a part of the god Kdne and could not be subjected to their periodic defilement with their mahina (menses). At the same time, prohibitions known as kapu were enforced against all commoners, and some ali'i as well, and these covered nearly every aspect of daily life. Separate eating houses for the sexes came about because images and idols were kept by men, and women were prohibited from worshipping them. Food had to be prepared separately because there were many foods that women were forbidden to eat or even touch if it was to be eaten by men.

Shortly after the kapu system was overthrown, and idols, images, and places of worship destroyed in 1819, the demand for sandalwood by the Chinese forced the common man into the forests. In the absence of the male work force, taro fields were neglected since the womenfolk were still not permitted (nor would they have known how) to take care of this crop. After the cessation of the sandalwood trade, many families moved into more urban areas. For example, in the Ka'u district of Hawai'i Island, many families moved away from the land when their favorite crops could no longer furnish them their food (Greenwell, 1947).<P>

Now, with the reawakening of Hawaiian

culture and lifestyle, taro cultivation is increasing.

The work by the Nation of Hawai'i is one example.

They have cleared close to three acres in a

slash-and-burn type technique. They used simple

axes to do most of the labor. This took an enor

mous amount of labor, for the task force was less

then twenty men, This task force was made up of

many men not related, but with one intent in mind

the establishment of a sovereign Nation of Hawai'i.

The lo'i were similarly built, by hand. The newer

patches were entirely built in the traditional

method. This method makes use of the `o`o,the

traditional digging stick.

The method is more closelv examined in the Observations on Varieties and Culture of Kalo (Queen Emma, circa 1830). Queen Emma maintained that even at that time there had been "much written and more said about the productivity and culture of the Kalo plant. . . " The Queen describes methods for building and maintaining lo'i in the traditional manner: the patch is dug out with a `o`o, and then mats are laid over the future lo'i and pressed by pounding dried banana stalks against the ground until it becomes hard packed. She discusses the horticultural methods of flooding a patch and also speaks of fertilizing the patches by "manuring" or letting the fields lie fallow. This is the same method that Steven, Nihi, and the other Villagers use in the preparation of their lo'i and in the flooding and planting.

I witnessed Nihi pulling linizi (moss) out of the lo'i with a short stick, an extremely simple, but effective tool. He said that the moss was a symptom of another deeper problem in soil makeup, and that even though it was good food for the fish that came down the 'auwai (waterway or aquaduct), it choked the flow of water and cooled the water to a temperature lower than the 70 degrees (plus or minus three degrees) that is the prime temperature for kalo growth. He also added that the limu (moss) kept the sun from baking the ground of the lo'i and keeping it firm.

When I asked Steven where they got the water for the lo'i, he explained how they had opened up several streams up in the mountains and found and rerouted several natural springs. Steven mentioned that was when Nihi had caught Leptospirosis. Nihi said that he had a huge cut on his toe that he had gotten earlier that day while using a pick. He said that when he waded through a dark pool that "stunk really bad," he felt as if something had crawled up into his toe. He felt a big pain in the foot, and he had to scrape out the area using his hands. He said he immediately felt weak. When he got back to the Village, he had a one hundred and five degree temperature, and was hallucinating. His sister had to take him to the hospital. He was ill for forty days, but he said that even though he had gotten sick, opening the water for the lo'i was one of the highlights of his life, and helped him to make a priority of going back to the land. Steven mentioned to me later that four out of the four people that had gone on that trip had gotten sick. He attributed this to the fact that they had found a huge black 'awa up in the mountain and that they had picked the whole plant. He stated that it wasn't Porto (balanced, or righteous) of them to not have left some for Kane (the god of the mountains.

In one of my days working in the lo'i, while I pulled the limu out of the patch with a short stick as Nihi had shown me, he pointed out to me the different varieties of kalo in their patch. The first that had been planted was of the Manalauloa variety, distinct with its green leaf stalks and the white piko (belly button, or center of leaf). After that, a mixture of the strong Mauli Lehua, distinct with its red leaf stalk, dark purple corms, and red piko; and Moi. similar to Manalauloa in appearance. Other days I simply pulled weeds out of the dry land patches and tried to recognize the varieties that the Villagers grew in their wet and dry land patches. In addition I learned a volumes about intercropping other plants with kalo and how to cultivate banana, sweet potato, and squash. Steven also said that the genetic make-up of kalo is such that when grown with traditionally intercropped plants such as banana, koa, and '6hi'a, the genetic memory stimulates growth and health in kalo. Steven said that the kalo thrive with the introduction of the microorganisms alive in the intercropped plants' dead vegetative matter.

The Hawaiians of The Sovereign Nation are adamant about manifesting their mana (power or spirit) in this area. They want their mana to show in their surroundings. They ask themselves, how does the land change as they use it. Steven offered that in a mountain climate they have the opportunity to positively affect everyone downstream of them. He used the traditional Hawaiian concept of the ahupua'a (a section of land from the ocean to the mountain) as an example and stated that the state motto was very fitting but it had several different (different levels of meaning). He stated the translation of "Ua mau ke ea o ka dina i ka pono" can indeed be translated as the life of the land is perpetuated by righteousness.

He maintained that alternate kaona to ea (life) in Hawaiian envelopes more meaning. Ea has meaning as life in respect to political, social, religious, and social aspects of life. Steven also asserted that pono is not only righteousness but balance, or harmony. The alternate meaning of the state motto could be presented as such; the political, social, and religious spirit of the land is perpetuated by balance and harmony. "This is something we at the village are still trying to realize," said Steven. He said that the institutionalized policy designed to eliminate Hawaiian culture must be removed. He said that even though we were conversing in English instead of Hawaiian, the Pule (prayer) of malama'aina and malama kalo (preserve the land and taro) will come true.

There is much to say about the Native Hawaiian position on the hotly debated topics such as land use, water rights, and preservation of traditional Hawaiian lands and archeological treasures. The scores are far from settled. These Hawaiians will be my neighbor for at least the duration of my thirty year mortgage.Seeing with my own eyes the kalo plant growing, planting a huli (baby kalo ready for planting) and going home with my own kalo to eat is endlessly gratifying. It will be nice to have such a wealth of knowledge and rich history to feed on. My mountain bike leads me through a winding deserted trail to reach the lo'i that I have grown so fond of. This experience brings new meaning to the Hawaiian name I was blessed with and given as a baby, Keala (the hidden pathway).

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