The whole hotel is filling up with gaggles of wahine, young Hawaiian women with long flowing hair. Every time someone opens a door a burst of feminine laughter and talk erupts into the hallways The rooms are holding the young contestants in the Merrie Monarch Festival.
The festival is a celebration of Hula, both Ancient/Kahiko and Modern/ Auwana. The groups are divided by sex into Wahine/Women and Kane/Men. But I would hardly call them grown. They are so very young and beautiful. Here and there across the hotel property little clusters of the dancers attend their teachers to practice.
A group of Kane begin their paces right below our window. They pretend to walk in regally across the stage and then launch into a dramatic chant that almost drops me to my knees. I sit on the lanai mesmerized as I watch them rehearse. They repeat their routine over and over slapping their thighs apart and together, beating their chests in an ancient movement of war.
They have spears and begin attacking a phantom pig in the hunt. They step side to side and thrust their pelvises into the air as an act of accomplishment. Then they get real low and do a series in a full squat in slow motion. I am having a heart attack. At the performance tomorrow, they will drive the girls crazy with that last move. And the girls will sing out in a high tremolo in appreciation.
The Edith Kanaka0’ole Stadium in Hilo will be filled to over capacity. The whole place will be dominated by flowers and leis. Everyone in the audience is in aloha wear. The women have worn their finest holokus and muumuus. The men are in dress shirts aloha style with slacks. Everyone is wearing a flower in their hair or lei around their neck.
Then the Halaus begin their presentations. This will take hours and I don’t have a ticket. I don’t want to go anywhere. I will be in the room in front of the TV ending my vacation with a marathon of hula.
I know all the groups and all the performers. I have watched them for years as they have grown from keiki to adult. I have a form clipped from the local newspaper to follow the contest just as you would the Academy Awards. I fully intend to sit here all weekend. Hubby abandons me for his new passion – windsurfing.
As I prepare to shower and settle in for the night, I get a phone call. It is the clerk from the dress shop where I bought my new muumuu. Some one had just given her two tickets and she couldn’t go. She knew of my passion for the hula and she had my number because I told her where we were staying, and my name was on the charge receipt. Now this is an example of aloha!
I run down to the beach. Then I run back and forth along the shore trying to get Hub’s attention, “Merrie Monarch! Merrie Monarch!” I scream. I got myself all lathered up. I’m sure those few people left on the beach were amused.
Finally Hubs came ashore and we hit it hard. We had to go now! It was at least a two hour drive. We hurriedly showered, and dressed in our new aloha wear. We didn’t stop for dinner. We’ll get a plate lunch at the stadium.
At the stadium we find exactly what we expected. Young people getting ready for a show, flowers, parents and Kumu Hula running amok in a frenzy of last minute preparation. Turns out we are sitting in the area reserved for Nani Lim’s Halau who were not performing this year. Nani Lim was there with a small entourage. I nodded to her in thanks and later sent her a check as a donation.
Our boys won Best in the Kahiko division. I was so thrilled! It was like I personally knew them or something. Nani Lim came back the next year with a fantastic display of talent in her huge Halau. There must have been at least forty girls dancing in unison to Nani’s chants and calls. They performed a slow seated hula clapping stones in their hands like castanets. It was beyond beautiful. Aloha.
(First published 4/12/12)
