'Ohi'a Lehua



Metrosideros polymorpha


The Metrosideros genus is native to the Pacific, from the Philippines to New Zealand, throughout Polynesia and Melanesia. The name comes from the Greek metra for heartwood, and sideron for iron. There are fifty species in two subgenera, Mearnsia (24 species) and Metrosideros (26 species).

Of these twenty-six, there are five recognized species of Metrosideros in Hawai'i, with the polymorpha variety being the most common:

1. Metrosideros waialeale (collina?) - A variety endemic to Kaua'i island, named for the mountain where it grows, Mount Wai'ale'ale.

2. Metrosideros tremuloides - Lehua 'ahihi A variety endemic to O'ahu, famous in song and found on the peaks of Nu'uanu and Mount Ka'ala.

3. Metrosideros rugosa - Lehua papa Also endemic to O'ahu, found in the Ko'olau mountains or on summits of windward pali.

4. Metrosideros polymorpha - 'Ohi'a lehua:

a. Var. dieteri Endemic to Kaua'i, found on the Pihea Trail on the way to the Alaka'i swamp.

b. Var. glaberrima A variety with smooth, shiny leaves found on Kaua'i, O'ahu, Moloka'i, Lana'i, Maui and Hawai'i.

c. Var. incana found on all major islands: Kaua'i, O'ahu, Moloka'i, Lana'i, Maui and Hawai'i.

d. Var. macrophylla – A variety endemic to Maui and Hawai'i islands only.

e. Var. newelli – A variety endemic to Hawai'i island. Selections found in the Pi'ihonua gulch, back of Rainbow Falls.

f. Var. polymorpha - A variety with hairy leaves found on O'ahu, Moloka'i, Lana'i, Maui and Hawai'i.

g. Var. pseudorugosa – A variety found only on West Maui, in the Pu'u Kukui summit bog.

h. Var. pumila - Found only on Kaua'i, in and near bog at head of the Wahiawa River, as well as on Maui and Moloka'i.

5. Metrosideros macropus - Also called 'ohi'a lehua, but endemic to island of O'ahu only. Samples found on the 'Aiea Ridge, Poamoho Trail.




Lehua

Ku'u wahi pua lehua, kau i ka wekiu.
My dear lehua blossom perched on the topmost branch.

Most commonly known as the flower for Hawai'i island, the 'ohi'a lehua is an endemic plant believed to have arrived in the Hawaiian islands by way of the Marquesas, and before that from New Zealand. The flower and plant there is known as the raka or the pohutukawa, and as you can see, it is very strikingly similar to our 'ohi'a lehua! Go here to learn more about the Metrosideros excelsa, aka the New Zealand Christmas tree.

And back to Hawai'i….

Young shoots of the lehua are called liko. Depending on the variety of lehua, the liko may be fuzzy, have red tips, be green or white and everything in between. Liko means to bud or to put forth new leaves. Sometimes the word is used to describe a child or a descendant, especially of an ali'i.





When we went up to Keauhou in June (I mentioned this trip in my blog on the alala), we were treated to the sight of pristine 'ohi'a and koa forests. There were huge trees easily seventy feet tall, and the lehua came in a multitude of colors, including red, orange, yellow and even striated pink varieties. Some trees bore flowers of more than one color. In the last picture here, there are three trees in different colors: red on the left, yellow in the back and orange on the right. Some of them grew in close proximity to one another, while others stood alone in the middle of an open area. It was all beautiful and breathtaking to behold.







Some colors have names to distinguish them, like the yellow lehua mamo. These two were taken by Kuha'o or Kauila and you can see here the variation in shades of the yellows as well:





I captured this orange beauty on the trip up to Keauhou. I'd never seen so many orange pua in all my life, and the trees were magnificent.



You can find 'ohi'a lehua growing anywhere from sea level to about the 7,500 foot level. In ancient times, lehua groves grew all the way down to the ocean, where their petals would fall onto the water, staining the water red. It is a hardy forest plant, growing closely with many other plants including the 'ie'ie and in higher elevations, the koa. The 'ohi'a can grow as a dwarf (as in bonsai) or a shrub variety all the way up to trees 100 feet tall.

Lehua blossoms are a key source of nectar and bugs for honeycreepers like the 'i'iwi and the 'apapane, who can easily camouflage themselves among flowers the same shade of red as they are. 'Ohi'a is a kinolau for the god Ku and its hard reddish wood was used in the creation of idols for the heiau. The wood was also used in fences around temples, and sometimes as posts and rafters for hale, as well as firewood or even canoes. The flowers are considered sacred to the volcano goddess Pele. The plant is one of the nine placed on the kuahu hula. From different parts of the plant, kapa makers derived dyes in hues of red, yellow, pink, orange, green and purplish or reddish tones.

Of all the Hawaiian flowers, lehua has always been my favorite. I used it extensively in my wedding, from centerpieces to lei to bouquets to even the print on our clothing. And yes, it was all designed by Sig Zane Designs! The print is Kalehuaokeola and you can find it here, featured on our umbrellas.

That's about all for now. You know, when I started this project a WEEK ago, I never thought I'd learn as much as I did. Just goes to show, you learn something new every single day. A hui hou kakou!

Mahalo to Keana, Kauila and Kuha'o for their photographic contributions.

Kalo (Taro)


Colocasia esculenta


'O ke kuleana o ka 'ohana ka malama i ka mea nui a me ka mea iki.
The responsibility of family is to take care of everyone.


Kalo, more commonly known by the Tahitian word, taro, was the mainstay of the ancient Hawaiian diet. The first settlers to these islands likely brought no more than a dozen varieties with them on their initial ocean voyages, but from those first few, they cultivated more than 300 varieties over the years!

Where to begin with the uses, or even with the cultural significance of kalo to the Hawaiian people? I had this entire informative entry going about kalo when I stumbled across this article, and the beauty in the writing quickly put me in my place. Catherine Lo tells the story at its bare roots level far better than I can, the creation myth of Haloanakalaukapalili and Haloa, our first brothers. She touches on the importance of poi in the past, present and future. And for me, it's made me think a bit differently about how I want to present kalo to you.



The plant itself has been the focus of the media quite a bit these last months due to a controversy between the University of Hawai'i and native activists. At the heart of the problem laid the fact that the UH patented three varieties of taro generated in labs to be leaf blight resistant. What they failed to take into account was the Hawaiian viewpoint, mainly being that they were patenting Haloa, and as such, it was as heinous a move as them patenting you or me. There were many other discussions, including what could be deemed intellectual property and where the line between science and culture can (and possibly should) be blurred.


There were, in my opinion, legitimate arguments on both sides, but then again, I'm not a taro farmer. My dad's not a farmer, and I wasn't brought up to be one, either. This doesn't mean I can't honor and relate to the call for people to be culturally sensitive, however. There are traditions surrounding the kalo, and poi specifically that I grew up with, and that is what I'm going to write about here.

I know some of you are familiar with the Wai'anae Diet. Well, it worked. Our ancestors had a healthy diet, and they prospered, but at the heart of it was the food that truly was a staple: kalo. Whether steamed, baked or mashed, kalo is not only good, but good for you. These days, they use it to make chips, bread, cookies, and all sorts of other treats, but honestly, give me the kalo plain and simple over that other junk, any day.


One-finger, two-finger, three-finger? In our house, it was almost always two-finger thick. If it got to three, 'auwe no ho'i – that was more water than anything and Mom was really trying to stretch it out. The poi rarely lasts long enough to go sour, but when it does, that's when Dad has a field day. He likes his about a week old. Me, I can go until about four days, when the skin on the top is turning white and the poi itself is more pink than purplish. It's all a matter of preference, there, I think, and upbringing.

My favorite is fresh poi because it's so sweet. If I had my way, it'd be pa'i'ai or one-finger, too. My first solid food growing up was poi and to this day, I love the stuff. Some of my friends have tried it and they make faces, but it's an acquired taste and very cultural. I'm sure I'd react similarly to some of the things they've grown up with, after all.

Poi palaoa is a cheat, something I know there some poi manufacturers employed to make it stretch. Palaoa is flour, and sometimes people put it in the poi and then add water to the mix to make it seem like there is more than there really is. Believe me, you can taste the difference!

The Poi Bowl. And no, I'm not talking about those tapa print paper or Styrofoam ones they use at lu'au, either, or the restaurant at the Makai Market at Ala Moana. There's a protocol around the poi bowl and I think it's one that many of us know, even if we don't consciously acknowledge the reason behind it. We don't talk negative around the poi. When that bowl is uncovered at the table, conversation stays pleasant, and if it gets ugly, someone covers the bowl.

When we were done eating, and if there was poi left, someone always would scrape or kahi the bowl. You don't leave a mess behind, and when you're done, that finger full of poi had better be going to your 'opu, too.


I grew up doing these things and I never understood why until I was in my late teens at a conference, and a kupuna explained it to me. We honor our ancestor by not being 'naughty' in front of them. It's the same sort of concept where you don't act up in front of your grandparents. At least, that's the way it was in our hale. The thing is, it wasn't a 'cultural teaching' either, but just a way of life, passed down from Dad, who learned from his parents, and they from theirs, likely dating back to the time of Haloa himself.

Another thing about the poi bowl was that we all shared from the same one. There was no taking so much for just yourself, not when you could sit together and share. We just dipped our fingers (or our forks) in as we ate. Cultural? Very. I can remember doing this, too, until my aunt introduced Mom to the 'delights' of shoyu and poi mixed together. *insert delicate shudder of distaste* But we're not going there….

So where does that leave us today? Can we still find a connection to our heritage through this simple, yet complex food? In this day and age of iPods, Playstations and plasma screen televisions, it's all in the mindset, and perhaps a bit of getting off our 'elemu and touching the 'aina again, listening to the stories that are our birthright, and living to honor Haloa.

Mahalo to Marcia and Keana for the photographs!

'Alala: Corvus hawaiiensis

He 'alala, he manu leo nui.
The 'alala is a noisy bird.

We were given the opportunity to visit the Keauhou Bird Conservation Center earlier this summer, and we came face to face with this beauty in the aviary attached to the education center. She was busy grubbing for insects here, and thrilled us all to no end when she flew so close to the observation window. There was another 'alala in the adjacent cage, a male, but they were being kept separated by a steel screen for fear of an attack. I have always been interested in native species, but never have I felt such a profound sadness and awe as I did when I watched this bird in her cage.


The 'alala is the Hawaiian crow, an endemic bird whose population is critically endangered. There are none left in the wild. There is a captive flock (and I use that word loosely since they are not able to fly about at will) at the Maui Bird Conservation Center, and one where we visited in Keauhou, ma uka of the Hawai'i Volcanoes National Park. The grand total? Fifty. Just fifty of these magnificent birds left in all the world.

As with other crows, the 'alala are vocal, gregarious and generally social creatures. They are omnivorous, their diet consisting of native ('ohelo) and introduced fruits, bugs, hatchlings or eggs of other birds and sometimes flowers ('ie'ie and 'ohi'a) or their nectar. Their feathers are more of a matte black than glossy, and sometimes even brown at the edges. The birds are a bit larger than your average crow, and studies have shown that their vocabulary is more complex than that of others of the species as well.

The conservation centers have many partners in their efforts to stave off the extinction of these very endangered animals, headed up by the San Diego Zoo, the Peregrine Foundation, the Department of Land and Natural Resources, as well as private land owners. There are several troubling factors facing them in their efforts to rebuild flocks of these birds, starting with a very small gene pool. 'Alala are monogamous as well which adds to the difficulty of forming nesting pairs whose genes are further apart in order to increase the possibility of survival past fledgling age.

'Alala means to cry or caw, and the bird's name comes from the fact that its cry sounds like that of a wailing child. At one time, like regular crows, the 'alala flew together in actual flocks, but they were hunted because they became a nuisance to ranchers and farmers. Populations dwindled so alarmingly that the birds were protected by the state from the early 1900's, and then by the federal government in the 1960s.

I hope the 'alala will survive. The odds are stacked against them, but I truly do hope they will be the exception to the rule, and not quietly fade into the past. Aside from the tireless efforts of those trying to bring them back from the edge of extinction, what we can do to help is to educate ourselves and others. On that note, for more information, check here.

'Eha ka na'au ke no'ono'o i keia mau manu kuikawa, a he mana'olana ko'u e ho'ola lahui ana lakou. It hurts thinking about their plight, and I fervently hope they will someday be fruitful and multiply again.

Mahalo to Dan for the photograph!