As a descendant of the Kamawaelualani/Kahikilaulani ohana of the sacred ahupuaa of Moanalua, its guardians since time immemorial, and as konohiki of Moanalua Valley, it is my kuleana to do all I can to protect it. As such, I am writing to join Congresswoman Tulsi Gabbard’s call for an immediate and long-term solution to the risks to the area’s water posed by the Red Hill fuel storage facility located at the edge of the original ahupuaa, and to share my mana‘o on Moanalua as the home of waiola, the water of life.
My great great grand-aunt, Namakahelu, the last chantress of Moanalua, chanted an ancient oli, the core of my family genealogy, and in it she describes how waiola begins at the back of the valley and flows toward the sea, bringing all its life-giving nature throughout. In our culture, we revere waiola as divine and sacred, for it animates us and the land that is our home.
Creation myths worldwide talk about God separating the elements of the universe from each other: dark from light, sky from earth, salt water from fresh water that is the basis of all life. The creation myth of Moanalua describes how the goddess Kahikilaulani came across the ocean in a canoe, bearing gifts for her new husband Kamawaelualani, in search of fresh water, the waiola that her homeland Kahiki-ku did not have in abundance.
The waiola of this ancient myth is nothing less than a miraculous blessing.
As konohiki of the valley, it is my duty to pay attention to all that pertains to it — the clouds, winds, rains, plants and animals, the many wahi pana, and the iwi that rest there. In that spirit, I have also closely followed the information coming from the Honolulu Board of Water Supply indicating that contamination from leaks at the facility have hit the Red Hill aquifer, and that there are continued risks of contamination of the aquifers in Moanalua and Halawa, which provide up to 25 percent of the drinking water for our island. This urgent and potentially catastrophic concern is in addition to other long-term threats to the area’s aquifers, such as the continued diversion of water that should be flowing freely in the nine rivers of the valley, and the unmitigated growth of non-native invasive plants like guava and albizia, which reduce the amount of cloud and rain water absorption into the aquifers.
In 1998 the state recognized Moanalua Valley’s significance ecologically and culturally by saving it from the H-3 freeway and acquiring it as a preserve. One of the last truly open spaces located just outside of Honolulu, the valley features 3,716-acres with five distinct forest types, which are also a habitat for native plants and animals, including the endangered elepaio bird. At the dedication, representatives from the state, Congress and the military, among others, gathered at the entrance to the valley and stated their intention to both protect and nurture this unique place.
In sharing my mana‘o, I hope to deepen our shared understanding of the sacred waiola of Moanalua. The health and well-being of our island home depend upon all of us coming together to protect our water. Healing the waiola is going to take people with ike working together toward this common vision, and in doing so they will have the ku aina behind them. This is the perfect example of malama aina — if we take care of the land, it will take care of us and future generations.
