Lessons Learned

On the weekend of July 3rd, my ohana spent some time together at Ka'ena. I was planning for a tough few days, because in the past, on holiday weekends, there had always been so many people out there having a good time at the expense of the aina. For the last few years on our huaka'i out to Ka'ena, we have had to put almost everything aside in order to focus on preventing off-road activities and cleaning up pallet fires and opala left behind by others.

But this was weekend, I had time to do what is so important - to pass on traditions that I was taught as a child to the next generation . . .

I remember when my Grama would take all of the fish that the family had caught down to the shore to clean. As a young child, I was so intrigued by the process of cleaning fish, and for years I'd watch her careful hand scale each fish and slice its belly, letting its insides fall out into the tidepools where tiny crabs would come out from hiding to dine on this rare delicacy.

What I didn't realize at the time was that I was being taught my kuleana, when I was brought down to accompany my father's mother at the shoreline: at first, just watching, and then being given small tasks - carrying a bucket, or rinsing off a freshly cleaned fish.

As we got older, and were more inquisitive, my Grama would let my cousins and I look at the contents of each stomach - some would hold the shells of tiny crustaceans, others sand, and some limu. What this taught us was more than just how to clean a fish, it gave us a greater understanding for what our food source relies upon to survive - the bigger picture of how an entire eco-system must remain in balance in order for us to eat. Without limu, there will be no Palani, no Nenue. Without coral, no Uhu. Without tiny crustaceans, no Weke, Kumu or He'e.

What Grama had taught me in all those years of accompanying her down to the shoreline, was more than just about gutting fish, it was more than learning about self-sustainability, but it revealed to me the idea that there is a natural balance to this eco-system - that nature is pono. And in order to be a part of that balance, I have kuleana - the responsibility to make sure that we all malama pono - to protect this eco-system that sustains us.

This weekend, as I went to the shoreline with fish to clean, I remembered my Grama and all that she taught me. And when the young kids arrived to watch, I remembered how intriguing the process of cleaning fish was for me. It was then I realized that what we were doing those days on the shore was actually an important part of maintaining pono.

Because it is the youth who will continue the practice into the future, because they will someday realize the role they play in all of this - we must continue to pass down the kuleana of our ancestors.