The Eruption of Pele’s Anger

The Eruption of Pele’s Anger

(A Legend from Hawaii)

In the time of the chief Kahoukapu the great festival of Lono makua was being held at Puna on this land Hawaii. They were carrying the god about the land and taking in the offerings of chiefs. Much taro and kumara, many fowls and pigs, red feathers, garments, mats, dried fish—these things were all collected for the god and laid upon the ahus, and there were boasting contests, hula dancing, sport of many kinds. All the dancers and the drummers came to their work, the strong men fought with fists and wrestled, the chiefs who were skilled slid down the hill on papa holua, the risky sleds.

It was Kahawali, that handsome chief of Kapoho, who was riding down the slope we call Ka holua ana o Kahawal. He was racing with his sled down Kahawali’s sliding-place, his friend Ahua was against him, they competed in the race. Kahawali ran to the track with his sled in one hand; he took the left rail with the other hand, he threw his body on the sled and dived. The people all applauded, shouted when Kahawali came down whizzing like a surfer on his well-oiled papa holua. Strong men have died from their hurts in holua; not Kahawali. The people all would watch that man, he slid the furthest, Ahua his friend slid well indeed, but Kahawali was the winner.

The great noise of the people caused Pele to descend from Kilauea to watch the games. That goddess left her home in the burning crater, stood near Kahawali’s sliding-place, admired his skill. Pele-in-the-form-of-a-woman watched Kahawali, challenged him to race with her. A woman broke the tapu of the chiefly sport, the sport of chiefs alone!

Kahawali let this wornan ride the track. She did not know the skill, He defeated her, he made his sled go further; all the people applauded him.

Jealous Pele asked that chief, ‘Then let me try your sled, your papa holua whose runners are more oily.”

Said Kahawali crosslv co this person, ‘Aole! Do you think you're my wife, char you can use my papa holua?’

He took his run, ran past that goddess, leapt on his sled and raced downhill.

Then Pele stamped her foot, the whole land shook; it quaked, the people cried in fear. She said her word, she called her word to Kilauea and all the burning rock came out, the fire and lava, the mountain's blood,

Then Pele changed, she changed from woman into akua again, came rushing down the sliding-place with all her fiery creatures. Roaring thunder, leaping rocks, streams of burning lava followed Pele down that hill.

When Kahawali reached the bottom of the slope he looked behind, he saw the anger of Pele pursuing from Kilauea. The people fled with screams, they scattered, ran, Then Kahawali took his spear which he had planted in the ground before the race, he ran as well; with Ahua his friend, that chief made off.

The burning lava came from Kilauea; it poured upon the people, burned them all, that lava-flow. Came Pele in fire-form riding on its wave, her anger showed. The singers, dancers, drummers, all were devoured by Pele.

Kahawali and Ahua came to the high ground of Puukea, to Kahawali’s house and family. That chief threw off his cloak to run more quickly, met his favourite pig Aloi pua'a; they-two rubbed noses, made the hongi. Then Kahawali ran to the house of his mother at Kuki’i, made the hongi with her: ‘Compassion great to you! Close here perhaps is your death. Pele comes devouring.’

Then Kahawali, having said this last thing to his mother, came to his wife—her name forgotten, cannot be remembered. They-two made the hongi, said farewell. Cried the wife, ‘Stay here with me! Let us die together!’ But Kahawali answered, ‘No, I go. I go.’

Then he made the hongi with his children Poupoulu and Kaohe, and said to them, ‘I grieve for you two.’

The lava came on, Kahawali ran, he came to a deep ravine, could go no further. That chief stretched out his spear with a powerful word, he made it stretch the chasm, laid it down, walked across. Came Ahua behind and Kahawali held the spear, his friend took hold, was drawn across.

Came Pele speeding with her fire to eat that chief. He came to Kula, greeted there his sister Koai, had no time. Could only say to her ‘Aloha oe!'"—then he ran down to the sea.

Kahawali’s youngest brother came with his canoe from fishing out at sea—saw Pele's anger, Kilauea pouring fire. They-two sprang off in that canoe, and with his broad spear Kahawali paddled fast, they left the land. Came Pele flaming, saw them get away. She hurled great stones, great burning rocks from Kilauea’s hole. They fell around, they singed the sea, they did not hit the canoe of Kahawali.

When Kahawali had paddled a certain way the east wind blew, it drove them from Pele’s anger. Smoke and ash came after them. Therefore Kahawali set his broad spear upright as a sail, it carried them across the sea to Maui. On that land, this chief rested for one night.

They sailed again co Molokai, afterwards to Oahu, where Kahawali's father lived, Kolonohailaau; and his sister, Kane wahine keaho. There with his sister Kahawali afterwards remained. They dwelt quietly in their homes.

Sources

Legends of the South Seas

Antony Alpers

1970

Pages: 253 - 256