Pele's Revenge

Pele's Revenge

(A Legend from Hawaii)

Ohi'a and Lehua loved each other from the moment they first saw each other at a village dance. Ohi'a was a tall strong man with a handsome face and lithe form. He was something of a trickster and was first in all the sports played by all the young men. Lehua was gentle and sweet and as fragile as a flower. Her beauty was the talk of the island, and her father was quite protective of his only child.

When Lehua saw the handsome, bold Ohi'a speaking with her father beside the bonfire, she blushed crimson, unable to take her eyes from the young man. At the same moment, Ohi'a glanced up from his conversation and his mouth dropped open at the sight of the beautiful maiden. He was not even aware that he had stopped speaking right in the middle of his sentence, so overwhelmed was he by the sight of the fair maiden across the fire from him.

Lehua's father nudged the young man, recalling him to his duties as a guest. Ohi'a stuttered and stammered apologies, trying to continue his conversation while keeping one eye on the fair Lehua. Lehua's father was amused by the young man's obvious infatuation with his daughter. He quite liked this bold trickster, and so he offered to introduce Ohi'a to his daughter. The young man almost fell over in his haste as they walked across the clearing to where Lehua stood with her friends.

From that moment, there was no other woman for Ohi'a but Lehua. He had eyes only for her, and courted her with a passion and zeal that swiftly won her heart. Her father gave his only daughter gladly into the keeping of the strong young man, and the young couple lived quite happily for several months in a new home Ohi'a built for his bride.

Then one day the goddess Pele was walking in the forest near the home of the handsome Ohi'a and spied the young man at work. Pele was smitten by him, and went at once to engage him in conversation. Ohi'a spoke politely to the beautiful woman, but did not respond to her advances, which infuriated Pele. She was determined to have this young man for herself, but before she could renew her efforts, Lehua came to the place her young husband was working to bring him his midday meal.

When he saw his lovely wife, Ohi'a's face lit up with love. He dropped everything at once and went to her side, leaving a fuming Pele to stare in jealous rage at the young couple. Dropping her human disguise, the goddess transformed into a raging column of fire and struck Ohi'a down, transforming him into a twisted ugly tree in revenge for spurning her advances.

Lehua fell to her knees beside the twisted tree that had once been her husband. Tears streaming down her lovely face, she begged Pele to turn him back into a man or else turn her into a tree, as she could not bear to be separated from her beloved. But Pele ignored the girl, taking herself up to the cool heights, her anger satisfied. But the gods saw what Pele had done to the innocent lovers and were angry. As Lehua lay weeping in despair, the gods reached down and transformed the girl into a beautiful red flower, which they placed upon the twisted Ohi'a tree, so that she and her beloved husband would never more be apart.

From that day to this, the Ohi'a tree has blossomed with the beautiful red Lehua flowers. While the flowers remain on the tree, the weather remains sunny and fair. But when a flower is plucked from the tree, then heavy rain falls upon the land like tears, for Lehua still cannot bear to be separated from her beloved husband Ohi'a.

Source:

https://www.lovebigisland.com/big-island-mythology/ohia-lehua/

How the Dugong Came To Be

How the Dugong Came To Be

(A Legend from Palau)

On the faraway island of Palau lived a young woman who carefully kept the ways of the island. She was gentle and kind, moving quietly from one task to another, watching, watching, especially when the children were at play near her home. She was married to a young man who would someday become chief if they both showed themselves to be worthy. They lived in a simple hut nestled beneath coconut palms and near the ocean. The constant pounding and crashing of surf against the black lava cliffs was a soothing, distant song. But they were not happy. They longed for the sweet sounds of children to fill their home.

As the young woman sat weaving in the shade of the tall, slender palms, her gaze would wander. She watched the fronds overhead swaying and tossing, as if playing with the teasing whispers of the sea wind. Maybe someday her own child would play next to her, laughing as the wind shook the fronds into clatter and dance. Maybe someday.

Each morning her husband climbed the sturdy limbs of a towering breadfruit tree. He tossed down the ripe green fruit. She laughed as she tried to catch the breadfruit, imagining their own child running in the sand, chasing after the tumbling fruit. Maybe, maybe someday.

In the afternoons when the sea crept low, she waded in the tide pools, catching crabs and searching for shells. She stopped to watch as waves washed over the glassy smooth surface, wrinkling the water and sending sparkles of sunshine into the air. It was then that tears would slide down her cheeks. She longed to hold a child in her arms and caress it as joyfully as the sun kissed the sea. Maybe, maybe someday.

And then it came to be. A child was conceived, began to grow, and soon moved within her.

But she was afraid. As the movements of the child grew stronger, the darkness that chilled her heart grew colder. Her husband laughed at her fears and chided: “Follow the ways of the island women. Follow each rule, and our child will be healthy.”

“But our child will not be safe.”

“Safe from what?"

She did not have an answer.

“Fallow each rule.” And he turned away from her. And so she did. In the evenings she no longer went down to the shore to gather crabs and shells and wash off the day's dust. She knew that at dusk the dark spirits are hungry for unborn babies. As darkness thickens, these spirits gather near the water's edge, waiting for foolish young women heavy with growing infants.

She did not eat the foods forbidden to women who are nourishing the child within them. Her husband too was careful not to quarrel or hunt fish in the lagoon at night. They both carefully kept the rules of their island.

The time for birth drew near. The young woman's heart now seemed divided like a half moon. One side glowed warm from the happiness of new life growing strong within her. One half felt dark and cold, heavy with foreboding and sadness. About what? Surely just the fear of birthing, the fears that all women share.

She wove new pandanus mats for her child, new mats to make a soft bed. She collected leaves, stripped, soaked, and pounded them. She selected the straightest and softest ones for weaving. Only one more moon cycle to wait. Her time to deliver was a few weeks away, when the moon would be ripening into fullness and light. “Wait, little one, wait. This dark phase of the moon must pass before you are born.” She knew that a child born during the moon’s darkness was a child filled with evil, doomed to cause chaos and destruction. Thus, doomed to die.

She sang over and over to her child as she wove. “Wait, little one, for the moon to shine, if only a sliver, if only a sliver. Wait, little one, for the brightness needed to assure your life.”

But the child would not wait.

That evening, as the blood-red washes of sunset soaked the horizon, her labor pains began.

“No! No!” she cried to her husband. “Run. Find the Old One. Find the woman with herbs that can stop this birthing. Hurry! Run, before it’s too late.”

Her husband did not answer. Tears clouded his eyes. He looked at the hut's dark opening that showed only the blackness of the night. “The meaning is clear,” he said. He turned away.

Her labor quickened. In the darkest hour of the night, the child was born. She cut the cord, washed any uncleanness away, and held her child, saying nothing, knowing that death would come soon. Once the villagers learned that a baby was born during this dark phase of the moon, the baby would be destroyed.

Already she could see that torches were being flamed. A stirring of voices shouting and calling whispered up from the village. She knew the older men were gathering, calling, and encouraging each other. Soon they would come, chanting out words of death, singing appeasement to the spirits.

She gazed at her baby. The child looked back at her. His eyes were wide and bright. They seemed to be filled with an understanding that these few minutes were precious.

She caressed his cheek with her hand. His little arms reached up to her. His tiny fist encircled her finger and grasped it tightly. She could feel his strength and eagerness for life.

“No. This child cannot die. There is no darkness, no evil within him.”

The chanting of the village men was growing louder, louder.

What could she do? Where could she run?

“Hide us. Hide us!” she pleaded with her husband.

“This island has oa place to hide,” was his reply.

Her husband was right. There was nowhere to run, no place to hide.

The voices of the men were loud, very loud. The drumming of their words and the slapping of their hands was near, very near.

Nowhere to hide. No way to plead.

She clasped her baby tightly to her chest. She stood in front of her home. It was no longer a place of safety. It was no longer her place, her home.

She could already see the angry faces of the men. But their eyes would not look at her. Their feet kept marching and their shouting voices rushed toward her like a wall of sea water about to curl and wash over her and the tiny life she held.

Sea water. Ocean... ocean. An enemy, a friend.

“I have no friends here. I have no home. I have only the ocean.”

She ran. More swiftly than she had ever run before, she fled down the path between the nodding trunks of the coconut palms, nodding, nodding. She raced past hibiscus bushes trembling in the wind, whispering, whispering. She ran faster, faster, until she could feel the knife edges of the volcanic rocks cutting her bare soles. She ran until she could hear the surf crashing against the cliff, just a little farther, a little faster. The men were close behind now, wailing, cursing. Hurry, yes, yes. Between gulps of air, she breathed out the words of her own death prayer. “Ocean mother, ocean mother, this child is born of light. No child is born of evil. No child needs to die. No more. No more.”

Would the ocean receive them? She must take the chance or the old ways would claim her child's life. In her heart she knew the old ways were wrong. Somehow the ocean would teach her people, a lesson to those still island-bound.

At the cliff's edge she stood holding her baby. She looked down at the swirling waters, the white froth of laughing foam. She looked back at the dark faces of her people. She saw their fists shaking at her, their arms reaching, grabbing.

She shouted back. “Never again, not another baby need die!” The young mother leaped.

The men crowded to the edge of the cliff. They looked down but saw no drowning woman or child. Instead they saw the silvery-gray back of an animal they had never seen before, an animal since named the dugong. She was slowly swimming away. Beside her was her infant, splashing and playing in the waves made by his mother.

Source:

Pacific Island legends: tales from Micronesia, Melanesia, Polynesia, and Australia

Nancy Bo Flood, Beret E. Strong, William Flood

1999

Pages: 33-38

Menehune

Menehune

(Hawaii)

Traditions common throughout the Pacific tell of bands of small, supernatural characters who inhabit the islands and who sometimes appear to mortal beings. In Hawai'i, they are called the Menehune, in New Zealand the Ponaturi or the Patupaiarehe. Though they do not bear names dialectically related to each other, they share characteristics that are common from one island group to another. These little folk generally live in caves in the interior of the islands. They are the islands’original inhabitants, and since the coming of the Europeans, they have almost totally vanished. These elves or fairies are active only at night during which time they toil in building large stone works, canoes, or islands while singing or chattering noisily away. They are usually friendly to humans, but they do possess a magic that could cause them ill. Sometimes they annoy others by stealing objects, performing tricks, or telling jokes. More often, they frighten humans during their nocturnal peregrinations.

Menehune

In Hawai'i, stories of the Menehune are legion. They have been specially collected together in works by William Rice, Thomas G. Thrum, and Abraham Fornander. Other delightful children’s books continue to appear to show the strong belief yet today of these small pixies.

The legends of these mythical creatures date far back into the distant past; in fact, the Menehune are believed to have been the first inhabitants of the Hawaiian Islands. When the first Polynesians arrived on those shores, they found monumental structures—fish ponds, heiau (temples), and dams—all presumably built by the little Menehune, who lived in caves up in the valleys of all the islands. Menehune men were attracted to the newly arrived Hawaiian women, and intermarriage frequently occurred, always to the disapproval of the Menehune chiefs. Legends also tell of the mass migration of the Menehune from the islands because of this social intercourse, and an examination of current Hawaiian genealogies will often reveal several Menehune names on pedigree charts. The belief in these little people permeated Hawaiian culture so much that a census taken early in the nineteenth century unabashedly recorded the names of sixty-five of these Menehune, who supposedly were living up in the valleys of Kaua‘i.

In modern times, these little people are normally invisible to anyone other than their own kind, but sometimes they are reported as having been unexpectedly seen by island residents. Their height, they say, ranges from two to three feet tall, and they are strong and muscular with long hair and eyebrows. Their simple diet consists of starchy puddings, fruit, berries, and taro leaves, and it is reported you can get them to work all night for you for one shrimp and a serving of poi. They play and work equally hard; they love playing old Hawaiian games—top-spinning, shooting arrows, foot races, sled races, and diving off cliffs—and they generally complete major construction jobs, such as fence walls, canoes, and temples, within a single night because of their superior strength. They often live on a mystical island called Kuaihelani, which floats in the heavens and descends at night in order for the little people to climb aboard or to disembark to carry out their various tasks. They are generally said to be serious-looking and not very handsome, but they are almost always friendly and jolly little pixies unless they are crossed. Then they can be downright nasty and malicious.

Menehune with Fish (1933)

One of the most remarkable structures attributed to the Menehune is the Menehune Ditch (sometimes called Ola’s Water Lead) on the island of Kaua‘i, a ditch that brings water from Waimea River to the taro patches on the other side of the mountain, some six miles away. The remarkable stonework used in its construction is unique and can only be found in one other place in Polynesia—the Marquesas Islands, approximately two thousand miles south of Hawai'i. One legend maintains that chief Ola could not get his own men to complete a stone wall around a fish pond, so Pi, one of Ola’s less willing workmen, bribed the Menehune to complete the work for him in exchange for some little wrapped packages of fish and poi—all in one night. Ola handsomely rewarded Pi for his work and convinced him to get the Menehune to work for him again the next night. Pi summoned his Menehune relatives, and all night long they passed stones between each other to the site in order to complete the dam and the lengthy ditch. The various narratives of the story may differ on particular names and events, but all maintain that the Menehune did the construction.

Menehune Ditch 

As time passes and the stories of ancient sites and ruins become forgotten, legends of the little people grow exponentially. In the past century, for example, villagers on Kaua‘i once knew the exact story of how their ancestors had worked to construct a particular site for their chief. Their ancestors’ names were well known and revered. Within ten years and as the older generation passed away, however, the details regarding the original story were forgotten, and the younger generation began to attribute the remarkable work to the Menehune rather than to their own ancestors. Considering reports such as this, then, one can assume that legends of the little people will never dwindle either in popularity or in number.

Sources:

Dictionary of Polynesian Mythology

Robert Dean Craig

1989

Pages: 33-34

Handbook of Polynesian Mythology

Robert Dean Craig

2004

Pages: 170-172

How Nan Madol was Built

How Nan Madol was Built

(A Legend from Pohnpei)

Magicians, semi-magicians, and sometime-magicians were not unfamiliar to early Pohnpeians. And so it wasn’t with complete surprise that Pohnpeians, a thousand or so years ago, accepted the brothers Olsihpa and Olsohpa upon their arrival at the end of a long voyage to the island. The brothers had sailed from the west, “a place down-wind,” that cannot now be positively identified. They arrived in either a single large vessel or perhaps with a fleet of canoes because it is known that they were accompanied by many companions. It was obvious that Olsihpa and Olsohpa had magical powers. They were wise and daring and were able to speak the local language when they landed. It was assumed that they were related to sacred people. The two young men, in their twenties at the time, were allowed to land on Pohnpei without opposition. The reasons for which Olsihpa and Olsohpa came to the island were to locate a site and build a place for worship, and also to unite the people under a single ruler who would preside at the sacred site. At that time, the island was ruled by numerous clan leaders who were constantly feuding.

The brothers first attempted a settlement at Sokehs in the northwest, but it was unsuccessful. Then they moved eastward to a place off of Nett, but this site also proved to be unsuitable. They then moved to U at Likirmoli, but the area was too wavy and windy to build a settlement. Then the brothers climbed Pelohlap Mountain to survey the island. From its height, they saw what appeared to be a stone stairway that led down into the depth at Nankapw Harbor to the entrance of an underwater city occupied by gods. When the people saw that the brothers were blessed with such a vision, they all gathered to help in the sacred project. The settlement would be built in the water for several reasons. It should be near to the eel Nan Somohl, who was the earth figure of a god in the sky, and the settlement should be protected from attacks by its numerous channels. It would contain many islands for defense, and also have battlements. From the safety of stone walls on dry islands, the defenders could easily defeat water-borne attackers. The canals could also be used for transportation.

The first large rock placed at the Nan Madol site was a four-sided slab of basalt which was named Pehirahni. It was erected so that its edges faced the cardinal points of the compass, and was used as a surveying base for other islets. The sea, however, was a constant tormentor and attempts to construct a breakwater were washed away by waves. Through supernatural power, a large basalt rock with magic qualities flew over the mountains of Pohnpei from Sokehs and landed at the breakwater. It provided an immovable foundation around which the sea barrier was built. Some large basalt rocks were rafted to the site while others flew there by magical means. The spaces between the basalt slabs were packed with coral rubble available on the reef in the immediate area. Generations of Pohnpeians engaged in the effort until the islets were finally built. It took more than a hundred years from beginning to completion of the settlement. Because of their magic, the brothers Olsihpa and Olsohpa aged slower than other people. Despite this, Olsihpa died and did not see the completion of the work he had started with his brother. Each of the islands, when finished, provided a special function that, in some way, had religious significance.

When the building of Nan Madol was completed, the surviving brother, Olsohpa, also died, and with him died the rule of the island by many feuding clan chiefs. Thus, the second era of Pohnpeian history, the period of rule by single royal leaders, the Saudeleurs, began on the sacred islets of Olsihpa and Olsohpa at Nan Madol.

Source

Pohnpei, an Island Argosy

Gene Ashby

1993

Pages: 240-242

Birth is no Longer Death

Birth is no Longer Death

(A Legend from Marshall Islands)

On the island of Airok the women were few. Girls died giving birth. No one knew how to help them. When a baby was born, a woman died.

On the island the mejenkwaad* were many. If a man went away before his pregnant wife gave birth, she’d become a mejenkwaad ready to devour her husband when he returned.

Only two women grew old on that island. They never gave birth. The old women collected the abandoned wives turned mejenkwaad. They treated them like daughters. Together they lived on the ocean side of Airok.

No one ever crossed to that side for fear of being devoured.

At the middle of the island, the part called Kañal, there lived a different girl, a smart girl. She got pregnant and she didn’t want to die. She ran away to the ocean side of the island. A big rock, the one that still stands, was there. The girl lay down and fell asleep under the rock.

When the girl woke up, the mejenkwaad were at the rock. They eyed the pregnant girl. The girl wasn't afraid, however. Maybe she was going to die anyway.

“I want to have a child. I want to hold the child,” the girl said to the mejenkwaad.

They took the girl to the two old women.

“Oh, we must take care of that girl,” said the two.“We must have our first child.”

The two old women helped the pregnant girl give birth to a boy. They showed her how to give birth and live. She and her son went back to the middle of the island. The people there said, “We thought you died already.”

When she showed her baby, the people spoke music and danced in their joy. The new mother taught the people how to birth. No more of the island’s girls had to die.

* A female demon

Source

Marshall Islands Legends and Stories

Daniel A. Kelin II and Nashton T. Nashon

2003

Pages: 40-41

The Birds and the Plantains

The Birds and the Plantains

(A tale from Tonga)

There were once two brothers, named Wise Malala and Foolish Malala, and they went one day and planted a plantain. On the following day Wise Malala sent his brother to see how their plantain fared, and he found that one leaf had sprouted. And so every day Foolish Malala was sent to look at the plantain. Every day for the next nine days he found that one more leaf had sprouted, until there were ten leaves. On the eleventh day the fruit spathe had appeared, and on the eighteenth day the fruit was ripe. But on the nineteenth day he discovered that the fruit had all been eaten by birds.

Then was Wise Malala very angry, and bade his brother call a meeting of all the birds, and to allow no bird to be absent. When the birds were assembled Wise Malala questioned them in turn, “Fowl, who has eaten our plantains?” The fowl denied all knowledge of the deed, as did also the rail, the pigeon, and all the birds; none knew who was guilty.

Then Wise Malala inquired if any were absent, and the names were called, and it was found that the misi had not appeared. Messengers sent to seek the misi found that he was sick; so orders were given to carry him to the meeting. When he was brought and questioned he, too, denied all knowledge of the theft; but he was made to evacuate his bowels, and the excrement was nothing but ripe plantain. So the guilt of the misi was established, and he was seized and killed.

Since then the remains of plantain have not been eaten.

Source

Tales and poems of Tonga

E.E.V. Collocott

1971

Pages: 58-59

The Clubfooted Children

The Clubfooted Children

(A tale from Tonga)

There was once a married couple who dwelt in the midst of the forest. In course of time the woman bore a son, whose feet were deformed. The woman abandoned the child, for she was ashamed before her husband of its deformity. Now a demon seeking food found the child, and took him home to his own abode, where he was about to devour him, when he bethought him that the infant was still very small, and noticed, too, the misshapen feet. So the demon determined to keep the child till he had grown bigger before eating him. He put him in the loft (fata) of his house, and fed and looked after him.

After a time the woman bore another child, whose feet, like the first’s, were deformed. This child, too, she cast away in shame, and it was found by the demon, who put him in the loft to be kept until he was bigger.

The woman continued to bear children, until she had borne ten, each of whom having deformed feet was deserted in the bush, and was found by the demon, who put him in the loft. So all the ten children were being kept in the loft until they should be big enough to eat. As the children grew their deformity disappeared, except that of the eldest, who remained clubfooted. The demon, in his daily visits, did not make very thorough examinations. He merely stood below their lodging, and called, “Clubfoot, Clubfoot, show me your feet, to see if you are big, or still small.” Then one by one the children used to thrust their feet through an opening in the floor of the loft, saying, “Here are my feet.” Now, since the feet of the nine had grown strong and well-shaped, the eldest brother used to thrust his deformed feet ten times through the opening, so that the demon thought that they were all still misshapen and small. Time went on; the nine younger brothers grew big and strong, and at last they determined to escape. One day after the examination was finished, and the demon had left them, they climbed down from the loft, and fled. The nine whose feet were strong were able to run easily, but they would not desert their eldest brother, and suited their pace to him. A few hours after they had gone the demon noticed a human smell in the compound occasioned by their passing through it, and went to see if his captives were safe. He stood and called up to the loft; but there was no reply. He climbed up to see, thinking that perhaps they were asleep; but they had disappeared. So he came down, and ran about to find their tracks. When he discovered the direction of flight he set off in pursuit. As he went he thought of a stratagem to check the flight of the brothers. He uttered an incantation, “Tuputupulefanua, let down a great basket of food, and a big pig, that they may carry.” In an instant the food appeared before the brothers, but the eldest brother cried, “Cut the food up at once and distribute,” and he took a piece of yam and a piece of pork, and gave it to one of the youths, saying, “Yours, eat as you run.” So he did to all of his brothers, and no time was wasted, but they still ran on. When the demon knew that this ruse had failed he called again, “Tuputupulefanua let down a great stone wall in their path.” But the nine younger brothers climbed the wall, and fled until they came to the abode of men, but the eldest hid beside the wall. Then the demon came to the wall, and, as he was climbing it the hidden brother shook it, and brought it down, killing the demon. Then he went on, and they all escaped.

Source

Tales and poems of Tonga

E.E.V. Collocott

1971

Pages: 59-61

The Man-Eating Lizard

The Man-Eating Lizard

(A Legend from Kosrae)

This story is about the big lizard who lived in a cave near Okat Harbor. This lizard was a flesh-eater, and this lizard was very big. Also because she was a flesh-eater, she killed the interest of the people on the other side of Kusaie* from going there. Besides that, she lived right at the mouth of a passage leading from the land down into this harbor, Okat Harbor. And whenever she saw people coming, she counted the number of people in certain canoes or boats that were coming by. She figured out the number of people there were coming; then she would say, “I’ll eat three and leave three go.” This was how she was doing this business. And she kept doing this, eating the people, especially those people in Tafunsak, because it was Tafunsak where she was staying.

Kosrae 1899

Finally one day a group of men from all Kusaie Island called a meeting and decided they should kill this big lizard, instead of letting her keep growing and growing, killing the people of Kusaie and cutting the population of the place at that time. So the rest of the people agreed with this meeting and it was agreed that there would be some men to represent all four villages in Kusaie to go kill that big lizard. Then all those who were expert in making boats or canoes got together and decided on the very best type of design for the canoe that could go fast enough in the water that the lizard couldn't get the people in the canoe, those people that would represent the whole Kusaiean people in going to kill the lizard. There would be eight people in the canoe, two men to represent each village to go in this canoe. It was made according to the number of people that would represent the Kusaiean people to go kill this big lizard. And the canoe was made with the best design that the canoe experts knew that could go faster in the water than that lizard would.

When the day came for these people to go kill this lizard, the people were putting on some kind of traditional costumes, some kind of special clothes, different than the ordinary clothes that people wore every day during their daily activities. When this canoe shoved off from the land, there was music; all different kinds of old cultural things, or whatever you might say, were done by the people who remained on the land watching this canoe as it shoved off from the land and started on this trip to go kill the big lizard.     

Finally, when this monster lizard caught sight of this canoe coming up, she counted the number of people and there were eight people coming. So that monster lizard said, "Okay, I’ll take four and leave four free." When those people in the canoe came close to that big cave where the monster lizard was staying, the canoe went faster than when it was first shoved down into the water. The closer it came, the faster it went, because it was getting closer to the place where the monster lizard was living.

When the canoe reached the place where that cave was, they were shouting and trying to do something to attract the lizard to come after them. Then that monster lizard got into the water, started swimming after this canoe. These people kept paddling and paddling until they went over into the ocean. They went beyond the reef. They had already gone out from the harbor. And this lizard kept following them. The canoe went very fast because these people were the expert paddlers among the Kusaieans. They could paddle stronger and faster than anybody else could.

When they were about halfway into the ocean, that lizard, monster lizard, went slower and slower, and finally she was drowned. When these people came back, they cut some part of this lizard out and took it back to where the villagers were waiting, Tafunsak, where those people were staying, making a traditional feast, waiting for them to see if they were going to kill it. At the time they took one part of this big monster lizard, the blood of the lizard spread over the place where she was drowned and attracted all the fish in that part where she was thrown. The fish started fighting over her body.

And this story names some of the fish that were called in. We are still using some of those names today for those fish that participated in eating the body of this big lizard. And the people of Kusaie were just more than happy with those eight experts who killed this lizard.

* Former name of Kosrae

Source

Micronesian Folktales

Roger E. Mitchell

1973

Pages: 51-52

The Legend of the Breadfruit Tree

The Legend of the Breadfruit Tree

(A Legend from Guam)

Long ago, on the Pacific island of Guam, there lived two brothers. Each of them was kind, just, and faithful to his people. So it came to pass that one became the chief of the southern kingdom of Guam. The other brother became chief of the northern kingdom of Guam.

At first, the two brothers took turns holding enormous fiestas each month, to which the other kingdoms would be invited. Gradually, these fiestas were held every few months. Then they were held only once a year, and then— never.

Sometimes the brothers would think about each other, but their memories would be swept away by the hard duties of ruling so many people, people who continued to squabble and fight. So each time they planned to visit each other, their plans were delayed.

Many years after the brother’s separation, a great drought struck Guam. The people had become wasteful of the water and land. They argued with each other over everything. The less they had, the more selfish they became. Soon the drought became a terrible famine.

The chiefs advised their people to eat and drink sparingly, but greed continued to rule over compassion. As time went by and still no rains came to quench the thirst of both the land and the people, even the coconut trees withered and died. Nowhere on the island did any vegetation grow. All of the freshwater springs and streams dried to dust. The brothers in each of their kingdoms watched despairingly as young children weakened and grew silent with hunger.

“Enough!” the chief of the northern kingdom yelled. His chief counselor jumped.

“What is it?” the man asked. He watched his chief with dulled eyes.

“Get the four strongest men remaining in my kingdom and have them carry the youngest, weakest children. We will visit my brother in his southern kingdom and see if he will give us food and water.”

Meanwhile, the chief of the southern kingdom was experiencing the same terrible famine. He woke each day to complaints about the hunger that ravaged his kingdom. He went to sleep hearing the moans of starving people. Eventually, he decided to take three of his men and six of his children and see if his brother would help them.

The next morning as the sun was peeping up over the horizon, the morning birds still could be heard, lifting their voices in hopeful song. “A sign for us to begin,” thought the northern chief. Certainly we will find food at my brother’s.” The northern chief departed with four men and six children. The party walked slowly, saving their energy to plead with the southern chief. All along the path they passed dead trees and dusty pits where cooling springs once gurgled. Hour after hour they walked past parched ground.

At the boundary between the two kingdoms, the northern chief told his men to carefully set down the children. “Let them rest. Find shade for them. I will try to find some bite of food.”

Suddenly, the group heard a rustling from the dry tangle of bush and vines. The northern chief struggled to stand.

Surprised, he stared as his brother stepped toward him. For a moment, the northern chief thought he was seeing a mirage. The last time he had encountered him, his brother was healthy, strong, and sleek with good food. Now, he was gaunt and streaked with dry dust and sweat. The southern chief looked beseechingly at his brother. Then he realized there was no hope. His head hung low with failure and despair.

“Oh, my brother, there is nothing to eat. Nothing has survived this terrible drought. Guam’s people will die,” moaned the northern chief. His brother nodded his head in agreement. The children listened but did not utter one word of complaint.

The two groups decided to rest the night at that place, since they were too tired to return home. Gently, the two chiefs placed the children on beds of dried grass.

They pleaded with the children to hold on one more day, but the exhaustion and disappointment were too great for their already weakened hearts. As the moon rose, the children’s sad faces smoothed, one by one, into death. The men dug twelve sad graves before the moon set, then went to sleep in sorrow.

The next morning, they awoke with the bright sun burning their faces. For a moment, the northern chief forgot about the famine and about the sad news he would have to bring to his people. The birds were singing.

He remembered his failed quest when he opened his eyes, ready to shake his fist at the birds flying above. How could they sing on such a sad day!

A mottled shadow cooled the earth on which he lay. When he looked up, lo and behold, twelve large trees stood where a dozen new graves had been.

“Brother, wake up! It’s a miracle!” the northern chief cried.

He looked again. Yes, twelve trees stood tall and strong. Half of them bore fruit! Large green fruit, dimpled and round, almost within reach.

Breadfruit

The men harvested the fruits and shared them equally. The breadfruit, as it came to be called, nourished both kingdoms. The famine was ended!

To this day you can eat delicious lemmai, the breadfruit that bears its fruit in spring, or dokdok, the fruit that ripens later. And you won't go hungry.

Source

Marianas Island Legends: Myth and Magic

Nancy Bo Flood

2001

Pages: 66-69