Being Menehune: My Journal

Dedication

Being Menehune is respectfully dedicated to Japan’s 2011 Tsunami victims.

Hawaii’s King Kalakaua invited Japan’s emperor to be associated with The Kingdom of Hawaii. As this book explains, he suggested both nations’ royal families be joined through marriage and that Hawai’i and Japan work together.

In recent times, Japan has became the home of Hawai’i’s valued spiritual brothers and sisters. We are partners across the sea. Island ohana (real and extended family) are saddened by Japan’s devastation and trauma.

Creativity lifts and encourages human spirit. Aloha from Hawaii for Japan’s quick and imaginative recovery.

J. Arthur Rath III

Contents

Introduction

1. Plain Warfare

2. Meeting Menehune

3. Into Unseen Hawai‘i

4. Leprechaun Miki

5. How Japan Will Win

6. Alienation

7. Japan’s Hawai‘i Kingdom

8. Going Underground

9. Persian Storyteller

10. Disguised Warrior

11. Battle of Chicanery

12. Kuali‘i Visits America

13. Purim Party

14. Kaua‘i Menehune Valley

15. Where Time’s Timeless

16. Mind Gardening

17. Entering Oz

18. La-La L.A.

19. Ghost House

20. Bookishly Brave

21. War Tremors

22. A Place for Us

23. I Discover Me

24. Hip-Hip Hooray, USA!

25. Ancient Hawaiian Life

26. Feudalism

27. Taxes and Games

28. Money Grows on Trees

29. Stone Age Blasted Away

30. Queen Esther’s Revenge

Introduction

Your author wrote every day, said the Kona, Hawai’i, librarian as I returned A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court.

"I read that in The Mark Twain Journal, a periodical. We’ve most of his books."

What’s a journal?

Similar to a diary: describing events, relating stories, explaining things.

A journal? What a neat way to retain information!

Right then, being ten in 1942, I decided to write a journal, beginning with the 1731 battle I’d just seen. Then I explained being with menehune.

I use the present tense to describe things just after they’ve happened, past tense for earlier occurrences.

1. Plain Warfare

Our hilltop perch makes the warriors below appear two and a half inches tall—my lead soldiers’ size. Fighting will resemble pageantry from this panoramic vantage point.

I enjoy organizing tiny soldiers into battle formations as Hawaiian armies down there are doing.

Kahu, my menehune mentor, explains: We’ll see an old-style battle—

Miki interrupts from behind us, saying, in his pseudo-Shakespearian way:

’Tis the Stone Age when weaponry falls short,

Hand-to-hand killing is this form of sport,

Body meets body with little breadth,

Loss means slavery or an altar death.

Sticks and stones enemy bones be breaking,

Long sticks do spearing, short ones the stabbing.

Rocks stun the opponents while they’re running,

Shark-teeth clubs lacerate, disemboweling.

Glancing back, I see Miki raising his eyebrows to inquire if I enjoyed his gory description. I return a blank stare. He’s eliminated associations I might have had of pomp and grandeur.

Kahu grunts, staring forward stoically. Miki whimpers; I look again, he’s fidgeting.

Kahu brought us here for serious observation and ignores the self-important leprechaun. After a few moments, Kahu relents, sighs, and nods, continuing to stare at proceedings below.

Miki prances forward. Standing stiffly, extending his arms in a grand manner, he declaims in a thin, high-pitched voice:

Facing each other in a formal game,

Lined up on a medieval battle plain.

Close quarter duel tests champions’ mettle,

Sides will wait before launching the battle.

It’s about ‘manhood’ and showing courage.

Word and gesture taunts evoke mindless rage,

Probe for weakness, locate sacrifices,

Defiling dead, without graves suffices.

Strutting to the ridge’s edge, Miki peeks back, seeking assurance he’s impressed us. His descriptions subdued my thrill of being here. I enjoy pretend war play; toy soldiers don’t experience pain. Miki has introduced horrible reality. He sits, crosses his legs, and becomes engrossed in watching instead of discoursing for a change.

I am on a trip into old-time Hawai‘i. Kahu provides background information and encourages me to express thoughts.

He explains the situation: "This level unbroken plain, or kahului, allows the main body of solders to assume the crescent form taking shape. Those wishing to be first to reach the enemy covet the endpoints. Opposing forces will draw up in a line against each other."

It resembles a scene from the Peloponnesian Wars, twenty-four centuries earlier. The Book of Knowledge described how, in 460 B.C., the Spartan infantry-based army fought in phalanx formation, advancing in close rank before the Macedonians. Stamina and pushing ability were what counted; man-to-man, soldiers thrust back the enemy.

Kahu continues: Attah, this battle is between your relative, the chief of Kaua‘i and O‘ahu—he’s the defender—and the chief of Hawai‘i—he is the invader. These Kāne‘ohe plains are ideal for forming mass assaults. If they were on a scrub-covered or broken area, soldiers would be grouped into small units to accommodate the lay of the land.

What year is it? I ask.

It is 1731. Your famous ancestor Kuali‘i has been dead for eight years; that’s his son and successor Pelei‘oholani on the battlefield. Kuali‘i won battles in Hilo, on the island of Hawai‘i, but never exercised sovereignty there. Chief Alapa‘i of Hawai‘i is afraid Pelei‘oholani may claim those rights. He’s going to strike first and demonstrate his power by conquering O‘ahu. Several thousand warriors from Kaua‘i arrived by canoe to fight on Pelei‘oholani’s side.

Who’re the men in costumes?

High-ranking chiefs. Pelei‘oholani is in the middle of the crescent to our left. You can identify him by the long feather cloak he’s wearing that almost touches the ground. It shows he’s a king.

I nod.

"Ali‘i koa—royal warriors—and high-placed kanaka on each side wear feather capes and ornate helmets."

I nod again.

"Men next to Pelei‘oholani hold his identifying standard—the kahili. Tufts of trimmed and splayed feathers top its staff.

"Attendants to Alapa‘i, the mō‘ī on the other side of the field, hold that chief’s identifying symbol. It is a pūlo‘ulo‘u, a staff surmounted by a kapa-covered ball."

Enemy king Alapa‘i stands in the middle of a cluster. Chief’s helmets, on both sides, resemble Spartans’ helmets; those had a crest arching from front to back. I saw illustrations in The Book of Knowledge.

I say, Chiefs look like Spartans.

"Attah, you will meet a person experienced with that country and century. She says Hawaiian designs are original. Her husband’s huge Persian army wiped out a small army of Spartans at Thermopylae in 480 B.C. At banquets, King Xerxes declared, ‘Persian might is right.’ She says he took a mouthful of wine and spat into Spartan king Leonidas’ helmet. A Babylonian eunuch held it as a cuspidor.

Queen Esther studied the helmet’s design. She says Spartans created their helmets’ decorative arch with horsehair. Hawaiians decorate their helmets’ frame with interwoven yellow and red feathers. The helmet arch makes royal figures appear taller.

I think, If Queen Esther is over two thousand and four hundred years old, she must resemble a mummy!

Kahu explains what’s happening below.

"The mō‘ī—the king—holds the center during the advance. Brightly colored feathers on his cloak and helmet make him easy to spot. Being able to glance up and see he is still in command reassures his warriors."

Who’s walking forward? I ask. What’s he carrying?

"Pelei‘oholani’s priest holds a branch from a hau tree. Alapa‘i’s priest does the same thing on the other side of the field. Each kahuna will push his branch upright into the ground as a favorable omen; neither side will interfere with the other’s symbol. The kahuna knocks the branch down if his side recognizes defeat. Ceremony was then an important part of warfare.

The standard bearer for the Hawai‘i chief is coming forward. You can’t distinguish what he’s holding from here. It’s a carved staff; the tuft of feathers on top is a sacred emblem.

To the echoing sound of conch shell trumpets, opposing armies close within range of one another.

I ask, Why has just one warrior stepped forward from Pelei‘oholani’s army?

He’s a champion wanting to challenge an opponent to an individual skirmish. Ah, a respondent has approached him.

Kahu explains: Pelei‘oholani’s warrior is using wordplay to destroy the opponent’s morale. He’s making obscene gestures, insulting his opponent’s manhood.

Why’d he throw down his weapon?

"Now he’s taunting, urging the opponent to fight weaponless. He intends to use his hands in lua—the art of breaking bones. He stands weaponless in front of the opposing army and its champion to demonstrate that he is ‘ōlohe lua—the most proficient class of warrior. Kaua‘i teachers are famous for this secret knowledge. Their warriors can inflict a fatal blow with their bare hands.

Look—the Hawai‘i warrior is charging the Kaua‘i champion—his dagger is extended. He’s ready to strike!

I see movements, evidently parries. Seconds later, the Hawai‘i opponent lies on the ground in a twisted position.

The Hawai‘i front line stands still. Perhaps its men are looking on in shock? Two of Pelei‘oholani’s warriors rush forward to pick up and carry away the fallen warrior.

Kahu says excitedly, "This means Pelei‘oholani’s priest will have ‘the lehua,’ the first warrior downed on the field of battle. That Hawai‘i man will be a sacrifice!"

He points to the hill opposite us. Pelei‘oholani’s priest will kill him over there on a rock for all to see. This is an omen of great fortune for warriors of O‘ahu and Kaua‘i.

Several individuals from the combined O‘ahu-Kaua‘i group advance toward the line of the enemy, pointing with spears; some are slinging stones.

What are they doing?

"They are intimidating, probing for strengths and weaknesses. They want two more victims for sacrifice. Three is their priest’s magic number.

"Everything is one-on-one now—tests of individual manhood. Skirmishers will withdraw once the required sacrificial victims are obtained. And then the full-fledged battle will commence.

Aha! Pelei‘oholani’s men have captured two Hawai‘i warriors. They’re dragging them from the field, taking them to the priest! Pelei‘oholani’s massed army is taunting their opponents, who may fall for it.

Hawai‘i warriors throw a salvo of spears. Many fall short. Pelei‘oholani’s warriors recover the spears, run forward, and simultaneously hurl them back.

"Watch for what Pelei‘oholani orders. He learned warfare from his father. Your ancestor Kuali‘i never lost a battle."

O‘ahu-Kaua‘i troops advance in line toward the Hawai‘i army holding long pike-like spears aimed chest high.

"The pololū used en masse under skilled command is an ideal weapon for broaching or wedging a breach in an opponent’s line. The point man at the front of this wedge is called the maka, or ‘eye.’ That position allows him to be the first to reach the enemy—a great honor. Once a breakthrough is achieved, fighting quickly shifts to fierce hand-to-hand combat at close quarters. Warriors use daggers and staves.

See those warriors running down the crest of the hill, coming onto the field? They’re Pelei‘oholani’s reserves. This battle has turned into melee, an interlocked mass of warriors. Reserves will reinforce the battle line. Look to your far right, beyond us: Some of Pelei‘oholani’s warriors have crept behind the enemy, seeking to cut off any retreat.

Those warriors include bare-breasted women in short skirts. I can tell from here!

A group of O‘ahu-Kaua‘i warriors rolls boulders down the hill toward the back lines of the Hawai‘i army.

I can’t see the Hawai‘i chief.

It is hard to distinguish friend from foe once a melee begins, Kahu explains. "That’s why an army identifies cohorts by types of tattoos—with geometric patterns over a shoulder, under the length of an arm or leg, over the chest, or in bands around the ankle or wrists. A chief can be spotted by his bright yellow or red feather cape and helmet. He’s expected to move forward aggressively.

A single battle can rage on for hours or drag on for days, with armies dividing and shifting territory.

What happens to the defeated chief?

"If a truce can’t be arranged before the battle is completely lost, the ali‘i—should he be spared from death—could lose all of his possessions, including the family genealogical chant that sets him apart. A defeated chief becomes part of the general populace, a maka‘āinana."

What about an ordinary warrior on the lost side?

"Those spared may be become kauwā, or slaves—an untouchable class living apart from the rest of Hawaiian society. They become laborers or join a pool of persons to be used as human sacrifices. Heaviest losses occur when an opponent’s forces collapse and are on the run. Hunting down a broken enemy’s forces can go on for weeks. Victors bury their dead. Bodies of the vanquished are left for devouring by dogs and hogs, or to rot."

Warriors stop fighting as a procession forms on the left.

Here comes a truce ambassador for Alapa‘i.

A man holding a young banana tree advances toward Pelei‘oholani from the rear of the Hawai‘i army. Others follow, carrying green ti leaves.

The man with the tree prostrates himself before the O‘ahu-Kaua‘i chief, then stands, evidently making a declaration. Pelei‘oholani, appearing to agree, nods his head, then extends and raises his arms. Warriors from both sides put weapons on the ground and walk toward each other. Each bends his head toward a person he’d been trying to kill.

What’s going on, Kahu?

"The battle is over. Former enemies are giving each other a honi, the traditional embrace—mutual touching of foreheads and noses and exchanges of breath. Warriors will then leave the battlefield."

We’d heard a general roar from the two armies when they advanced toward each other. Now high-pitched screams rise from a crowd running on the field from behind each army. They kneel beside fallen warriors.

What’s going on?

"Mahu from both sides are helping those lying on the ground. They follow warriors, take care of their physical needs, cook, assist wounded, and bury the dead."

Not warriors? Aren’t they sissies?

Kahu won’t allow my snide comment to pass. He lectures me: "Mahu are important people, Attah! Some fight fiercely as warriors. Others provide comfort before and after battle. Mahu keep away loneliness and fear. Every Hawaiian has a purpose: Both male and female mahu are valued and loved. Mahu help care for children and instruct the young. They assist within the family and look after the aged. They create beautiful things, contribute to our culture, enhance and preserve it. Everyone is a kanaka—a human being. That is something you need to learn."

Kahu spoke sincerely, not harshly. I am shamed and will remember that every person has a purpose.

I change the subject quickly: What’ll happen to the Hawai‘i chief?

"A peace has been negotiated, so he won’t be harmed. Both sides went through rituals and formal battle discussions in advance. This mode of warfare will change over the next fifty years; sometime I will explain the evolution. But for now, your ancestor allows Alapa‘i to withdraw to Maui. Back there, he continues to be aggressive and creates a rebellion. Pelei‘oholani goes to Maui to settle it. He defeats Alapa‘i, who, once again, asks for peace.

"Alapa‘i returns to the island of Hawai‘i and counters a rebellion against him this time. After many battles, that warfare-loving chief is overthrown.

Tomorrow you’ll observe your ancestor Kuali‘i. I explained that he is Pelei‘oholani’s father.

He looks toward Miki, who was subdued when fighting began but not now. Miki turns, grins, and bounces up and down excitedly now that all has ended well and declaims,

I prefer naked warriors in make up:

Those completely nude men and women Picts,

Blue paint covering their face and body,

Fighting side-by-side, looking s-o-o bawdy!

Stunning the Romans, and never losing,

Distilling whisky for happy boozing.

Then, with a swagger, he says,

Grandma knows of Scotland’s blue belles and boys

Turning the Roman soldiers into toys.

She’s an Armstrong, whose coat of arm’s a fist,

A bent arm muscle, pops up just like this!

Flexing his tiny left bicep, Miki points to it, wanting me to realize he knows everything—it’s pixie one-upmanship.

Kahu places his hand on my back, and instantly we’re at the eucalyptus tree behind the abandoned Kona Hospital. Kahu nods good-bye. He and Miki disappear in the guava bushes. I walk down to the former nurse quarters where Mother and I live.

2. Meeting Menehune

Excited by my trip into the past, I wrote about that while it was fresh on my mind—instead of beginning my journal ten days ago on April 1, 1942, when I first met menehune—I will start doing so right now.

Mother gave me this nice writing book she thinks I’m using as my secret diary. We agreed not even she can see what I write between its covers. If loose-leaf, instead of bound, I could’ve moved the sequence around. In that case, if I hadn’t reacted to the moment, like a kid, this journal would’ve started with the retrospective and explanatory writing I’m now doing after catching on to sequencing.

I am ten years old. Menehune, Hawai‘i’s magical people, take me on adventures into Hawai‘i’s ancient past. During the past seven years I’ve learned to associate with those whom others don’t see.

This began with pictures, similar to those Hilda Doolittle described in a poem:

An adult told a child:

"People don’t dream until they’re ten."

The child responded: "But I had a five-year-old one."

The adult asked: How did it come?

The child explained: "It didn’t come. It was there. It was a picture. It