Maluae and the Underworld

 Maluae and the Underworld

(A Legend from Hawaii)

This is a story from Manoa Valley, back of Honolulu. In the upper end of the valley, at the foot of the highest mountains on the island of Oahu, lived Maluae. He was a farmer, and had chosen this land because rain fell abundantly on the mountains, and the streams brought down fine soil from the decaying forests and disintegrating rocks, fertilizing his plants.

Rainbow above Taro Patch in Manoa Valley' by D. Howard Hitchcock, 1910

Here he cultivated bananas, taro, and sweet potatoes. His bananas grew rapidly by the sides of the brooks, and yielded large bunches of fruit from their tree-like stems. His taro filled small walled-in pools, growing in the water like water lilies, until the roots were matured, when the plants were pulled up and the roots boiled and prepared for food. His sweet potatoes were planted on the drier uplands.

Thus he had plenty of food continually growing, and ripening from time to time. Whenever he gathered any of his food products, he brought a part to his family temple and placed it on an altar before the gods Kane and Kanaloa. Then he took the rest to his home for his family to eat.

He had a boy whom he dearly loved, whose name was Kaa-lii (Rolling Chief). This boy was a careless, rollicking child.

One day the boy was tired and hungry. He passed by the temple of the gods and saw bananas, ripe and sweet, on the little platform before the gods. He took these bananas and ate them all.

The gods looked down on the altar expecting to find food, but it was all gone and there was nothing for them. They were very angry, and ran out after the boy. They caught him eating the bananas, and killed him. The body they left lying under the trees, and taking out his ghost threw it into the Underworld.

The father toiled hour after hour cultivating his food plants, and when wearied returned to his home. On the way he met the two gods. They told him how his boy had robbed them of their sacrifices and how they had punished him. They said, “We have sent his ghost body to the lowest regions of the Underworld.”

The father was very sorrowful and heavy-hearted as he went on his way to his desolate home. He searched for the body of his boy, and at last he found it. He saw too that the story of the gods was true, for partly eaten bananas filled the mouth, which was set in death.

He wrapped the body very carefully in kapa cloth made from the bark of trees. He carried it into his rest house and laid it on the sleeping mat. After a time he lay down beside the body, refusing all food, and planning to die with his boy. He thought if he could escape from his own body he would be able to go down where the ghost of his boy had been sent. If he could find that ghost, he hoped to take it to the other part of the Underworld, where they could be happy together.

He placed no offerings on the altar of the gods. No prayers were chanted. The afternoon and evening passed slowly. The gods waited for their worshipper, but he came not. They looked down on the altar of sacrifice, but there was nothing for them.

The night passed and the following day. The father lay by the side of his son, neither eating nor drinking, and longing only for death. The house was tightly closed.

Then the gods talked together, and Kane said: “Maluae eats no food, he prepares no awa to drink, and there is no water by him. He is near the door of the Underworld. If he should die, we would be to blame.”

Kanaloa said: “He has been a good man, but now we do not hear any prayers. We are losing our worshipper. We in quick anger killed his son. Was this the right reward? He has called us morning and evening in his worship. He has provided fish and fruits and vegetables for our altars. He has always prepared awa from the juice of the yellow awa root for us to drink. We have not paid him well for his care.”

Then they decided to go and give life to the father, and permit him to take his ghost body and go down into Po, the dark land, to bring back the ghost of the boy. They went to Maluae and told him they were sorry for what they had done.

The father was very weak from hunger and longing for death, and could scarcely listen to them.

When Kane said, “Have you love for your child?” the father whispered: “Yes. My love is without end.”

“Can you go down into the dark land and get that spirit and put it back in the body which lies here?”

“No,” the father said, “no, I can only die and go to live with him and make him happier by taking him to a better place.”

Then the gods said, “We will give you the power to go after your boy and we will help you to escape the dangers of the land of ghosts.”

Then the father, stirred by hope, rose up and took food and drink. Soon he was strong enough to go on his journey.

The gods gave him a ghost body and also prepared a hollow stick like bamboo, in which they put food, battle weapons, and a piece of burning lava for fire.

Not far from Honolulu is a beautiful modern estate with fine roads, lakes, running brooks, and interesting valleys extending back into the mountain range. This is called by the very ancient name of Moanalua (two lakes). Near the seacoast of this estate was one of the most noted ghost localities of the islands. The ghosts after wandering over the island of Oahu would come to this place to find a way into their real home, the Underworld or Po.

Here was a ghostly breadfruit tree named Lei-walo, possibly meaning the “eight wreaths” or “the eighth wreath” — the last wreath of leaves from the land of the living which would meet the eyes of the dying.

The ghosts would leap or fly or climb into the branches of this tree, trying to find a rotten branch upon which they could sit until it broke and threw them into the dark sea below.

Maluae climbed up the breadfruit tree. He found a branch where ghosts were sitting waiting for it to fall. His weight was so much greater than theirs that the branch broke at once, and down they all fell into the land of Po.

He needed merely to taste the food in his hollow cane to have new life and strength. This he had done when he climbed the tree; thus he had been able to push past the fabled guardians of the pathway of the ghosts in the Upperworld. As he entered the Underworld, he again tasted the food of the gods and he felt himself growing stronger and stronger.

He took a magic war club and a spear out of the cane given by the gods. Ghostly warriors tried to hinder his entrance into the different districts of the dark land. The spirits of dead chiefs challenged him when he passed their homes. Battle after battle was fought. His magic club struck the warriors down, and his spear tossed them aside.

Sometimes he was warmly greeted and aided by ghosts of kindly spirits. Thus he went from place to place, searching for his boy. He found him at last, as the Hawaiians quaintly expressed it, “down in the papa-ku” (the established foundation of Po), choking and suffocating from the bananas of ghost-land which he was compelled to continually force into his mouth.

The father caught the spirit of the boy and started back toward the Upperworld, but the ghosts surrounded him. They tried to catch him and take the spirit away from him. Again the father partook of the food of the gods. Once more he wielded his war club, but the hosts of enemies were too great. Multitudes arose on all sides, crushing him by their overwhelming numbers.

At last he raised his magic hollow cane and took the last portion of food. Then he poured out the portion of burning lava which the gods had placed inside. It fell upon the dry floor of the Underworld. The flames dashed into the trees and the shrubs of ghost-land. Fire holes opened and streams of lava burst out.

Backward fled the multitude of spirits. The father thrust the spirit of the boy quickly into the empty magic cane and rushed swiftly up to his homeland. He brought the spirit to the body lying in the rest house and forced it to find again its living home.

Afterward the father and the boy took food to the altars of the gods, and chanted the accustomed prayers heartily and loyally all the rest of their lives.

Source:

Myths and Legends of Hawaii

W.D. Westervelt

1987

Pages: 95-99

Why the reef stands far from Bau

 Why the reef stands far from Bau

(A Legend from Fiji)

Islands in the vast Pacific Ocean are surrounded by the not-so-peaceful Pacific. Many islands are only a few feet above the surface of the water at their highest. During times of high tide or storm they may find themselves completely submerged! Many are the stories told of islanders lashing themselves to tall palm trees to save themselves from being washed out to sea during typhoons.

Other islands are more fortunate. Some are high volcanic islands standing far above the raging surf. Still other islands have reefs that protect them from the ocean's temper.

The islands of Fiji have just such a vast protecting reef. It extends over three hundred miles and breaks much of the force of the open ocean before it reaches land. The reef also quiets the pounding surf. At some places, where the reef is a long way from the land, it may be hard to even hear the sound of the ocean.

The reef was not always so far from land. At one time, when the gods of the earth and sea still lived in Fiji, there lived a goddess, Bui Vo, on the island of Bau.

Bui Vo was hungry. Even goddesses got hungry. Bui Vo was known for her great hunger and also for her great cooking pot, which she kept near her hut. This cooking pot was her favorite pot. Ivi nuts were her favorite food.

"I am hungry," thought Bui Vo. "I will make some ivi nuts." The thought of her favorite food made Bui Vo very happy. She set to work at once.

Cooking ivi nuts is not easy. Ivi nuts are very very hard. They are too hard for even a goddess like Bui Vo to eat.

To soften the nuts, Bui Vo filled her cooking pot with water. Then she added the nuts and put the pot on a huge fire to boil. The nuts needed to boil for a very long time to make them tender.

As Bui Vo gathered wood for her fire, she did not notice a big storm approaching from the ocean. The storm began to make big waves. We call these waves "whitecaps."

Soon Bui Vo's pot was boiling well. She listened to the wonderful sound of the nuts boiling. When the boiling sound got softer, she knew it was time to add more water. She kept adding water to the pot to keep the nuts covered and boiling.

At that time, the reef around Bau was very near the shore. As the storm grew bigger, huge waves began to crash against the rocks. "Whoosh, whoosh," they cried, sounding ever so much like the "sploosh, sploosh" sound of the boiling ivi nuts.

Bui Vo heard the loud "whoosh, whoosh." "Good," she thought. "My ivi nuts are boiling well. I can almost taste them!" Bui Vo really loved ivi nuts. She relaxed in her hut and waited.

Bui Vo fell asleep. When she awoke, she remembered her nuts and started to rush out of her hut. Then she heard the familiar "whoosh, whoosh" sound. It was even louder than before. "My," she thought, "How well the ivi nuts are boiling today." Since the sound was even louder, she did not go out to add more water to the pot.

All that day, Bui Vo rested in her hut. She kept listening for the sound of the boiling to get softer, but the loud "whoosh, whoosh" only got louder.

By this time the storm had struck the island, and rain fell all around the hut of Bui Vo. Suddenly she smelled something burning! It smelled really bad.

Bui Vo stuck her nose out of her hut and smelled to the east. It smelled bad. Then she smelled to the west. It still smelled bad. Really bad.

Bui Vo smelled out toward the ocean. She still smelled the bad smell. Then she finally smelled toward the land, toward where her ivi nuts were cooking. This time the smell was so bad she could hardly stand it.

When she looked toward the smell, she saw black smoke coming out of her cooking pot!

"My ivi nuts!" she screamed. Bui Vo rushed out of her hut. A sad sight greeted her.

The cooking pot had boiled completely dry. Inside her favorite pot was a smoking black mess. The ivi nuts had burned to charcoal. "My ivi nuts are burned! I do not have any supper," she wailed. But that was not all.

While Bui Vo looked into her pot, the large earthenware pot suddenly cracked into two pieces. The ruined pot lay in the ashes of the fire. "My pot! My favorite pot is ruined."

At first Bui Vo was sad. Then she was mad. "Why did this happen?" she demanded. Then she heard the "whoosh, whoosh" of the waves striking the reef. Bui Vo understood.

"You tricked me!" she screamed at the reef. "You and your waves sounded like my boiling pot of ivi nuts. You are a wicked reef. Go away. Go far away from this place."

The reef obeyed. Now the reef is built far out to sea. The sounds of the surf can no longer be heard on Bau.

Source: 

Pacific Island Legends: Tales from Micronesia, Melanesia, Polynesia and Australia

Nancy Bo Flood, Beret E. Strong, William Flood 

1991 

Pages: 139 -142

Rori-of-the-Rocks

Rori-of-the-Rocks

(A Legend from Cook Islands)

On the island of Mangaia once lived a famous hermit, known as Rori-of-the-West or Rori-of-the-Rocks. This is his story.

Rori's grandfather was Una, and his father was Rongo-ariki. Both Una and Rongo-anki were great craftsmen. They knew how to carve beautiful canoes and tools from wood, and how to weave the strongest sennit from coconut fiber. They also had the secret knowledge of how to carve images of the gods. Una and Rongo-ariki kept this knowledge safe and passed it on to Rori when he was a young man.

Rori and his sister were very happy living on Mangaia. Rori was a fast runner and loved especially to climb the steep cliffs that surrounded his village.

In those days, there was much fighting. The day finally came when a battle was fought right in Rori's village!

It was a terrible battle. Both Rori's beloved father, Rongo-ariki, and his lovely sister, Amio, were killed. Just before he died, Rongo-ariki instructed his son, “Fly, Rori, fly to the black rocks and keep our family knowledge safe.”

Rori obeyed his father, though it hurt him terribly to leave his side. He climbed up the steep cliffs, so fast that none of his enemies could get even close. From far above the valley, he watched as his village was burned and his friends killed or captured.

Rori sadly turned from the valley and surveyed his new home. He was in a small valley, full of razor-sharp rocks. There were caves here in which he could hide, and the pointed stones would slow down any enemy spies.

Night after night Rori built up his hiding place. He smoothed hundreds of tiny sharp pebbles until he made a smooth path on which he could run in case someone was chasing him. Rori put these small stones down so cleverly that even the slightest weight on the stones set off a low rumble, a sound that alerted Rori to danger.

All of his work was successful, for he remained undiscovered for many years. He was all but forgotten by the villagers. They thought he had died in the rocky waste.

Using the skills his father taught him, Rori was able to make sharp tools. Using his special path and strong body, Rori was able to slip quietly into the fertile valleys when it was dark. Thore he could find fresh food, especially fruits and the nuts of the mahogany tree. Rori was so clever that he always replaced the good nuts he found in the valley with rotten nuts he found in the rocks. This wav, no one ever suspected someone was stealing from the village trees. To this day, mahogany nuts are called “Rori's Chestnuts” or “Rori's Delight.”

***

The seasons passed. Rori was no longer young. His skin was as dry and sunburned as an old leather hide. But he could still run over the rocks faster than any man alive. On one or two occasions, when Rori became careless in his food-gathering, men tried to capture him. But Rori was too fast. He would leap high into the air, landing on the rocks and disappearing like the mist.

Finally, Rori became lonely for the company of others. He had lived alone, like a hermit, for almost all of his life. One time before, he had tried to return to live among people. He thought all of his former enemies were dead. He was mistaken, and was lucky to escape back to the rocks before he was killed and eaten!

This time, his enemies were truly gone. For the first time in years, the whole island was at peace. But there was no one left with the skills to carve images of their gods. No one but the scarcely remembered Rori-of-the-Rocks.

From time to time a shriveled and burnt old man had been sighted, but he had always been too quick to be captured. “This old man must be Rori,” thought Manaune, who had known Rori when he was still a young man. “This man will have the knowledge we need to make our carvings.”

Manaune called to the rocks where Rori was known to hide, far above the villagers below. “Rori, come back! Come back and teach me to carve my god!”

Rori heard the calling and was shocked. He had not heard anyone speak his name for many years. Was this some sort of trick?

When Rori realized that it was Manaune, whom he trusted, and that peace had come to their island, he agreed to return to the village on Mangaia. Great was the joy at his return.

Rori lived with his people for many more years, until the coming of Captain Cook. He carved images of the many gods of his people. He instructed the young people in the arts of carving and weaving. He even had time to get married and have sons of his own!

To this day, the people of these islands have the special skills and knowledge brought back to them by Rori, the hermit of the rocks. 

Portrait of a "man of Mangaia", c. 1796

Source:
Pacific Island Legends: Tales from Micronesia, Melanesia, Polynesia and Australia
Nancy Bo Flood, Beret E. Strong, William Flood,
1991
Pages: 178 - 181