Konohiki Days of Maunalua Bay

 

If you were born after 1959, it is hard to imagine how Hawaii’s unique konohiki system worked so perfectly. The old timers glowingly reminisce about shorelines black from the schooling mullet. Those were the days when everyone respected the experts who meticulously managed the konohiki. I know the doubters will say that these are just fish stories. Others are under the impression that the system only worked in the days of horrific punishments like eye gouging or instant death. Could it really have worked so brilliantly in the modern era? If it was so great then why would we get rid of it?

 

I like to compare the konohiki fishery to the Hayden mango tree behind my old home in Kuli’ou’ou. Like Old Faithful, huge juicy mangos were pumped out every summer. All the kids on Summer Street loved that tree. Generations of the neighboring Ho’opi’i’s remember it as the source of their tutu’s mango chutney. Nobody ever imagined it would stop. Granted there were challenges. Occasionally I would look out the window and find strangers picking without permission. One infamous day, I awoke to a large immigrant family armed with sticks and rocks, attempting to pick every last mango. When I came outside, they paused. Thinking they were going to ask permission, imagine my surprise when they asked for extra bags!

 

These days the giving tree is nothing but oozing sap and sawdust. Completely gone. “When Mrs. Kau, the elderly landlady, passed the management to her daughter she had it hacked down due to liability” the tenant told me recently shaking his head.

 

Similar to the mango tree destruction is the danger of erasing our fishing traditions due to ignorance. It’s tough to ignore the constant headlines blaming fishermen for fishery declines or monk seals dying. However, let’s not make the mistake of pushing out the kupuna who grew up learning how to sustain a thriving fishery. These are the first people that we need to hear from when we talk about moving ahead. 

 

Today the word fisherman often implies fish removal. This contrasts to the konohiki era where much of the time was spent stocking protected fishponds with juveniles to ensure a healthy fishery.  A good model to look at is Maunalua Bay, O’ahu. It was here that the ancient konohiki rights were still in effect until the time of Statehood. As late as the fifties and sixties, enormous working fishponds like Ke-ahupua-o-Maunalua (the largest in Polynesia) were thriving. Outside the ponds, the konohiki rights extending to the reef were carefully managed by legendary figures like Joe Lukela at Maunalua, Mary Lucas at Niu and Mr. Paiko at Kuli’ou’ou. They put seasonal and locational kapus on the ‘anae and akule to ensure their survival. Anybody could have predicted that removing their regulatory authority and the generations of knowledge they embodied would be problematic.  However, fewer and fewer are left to explain how the fishery worked prior to the condemnation of konohiki rights.

The Niu Konohiki

One of the key elements of the system was communal respect for the konohiki of each area. Retired Aina Haina dentist Joe Young grew up working the Maunalua Fishpond from 1937 to 1947. He recalls fondly how Mother Lucas chased off his father’s fishing gang as they gathered juvenile mullet to stock the pond.  Mrs. Lucas, a descendant of high ali’i was quite upset that they had not asked her permission to fish at Niu. The problem was resolved when his Chinese father returned with a gift of fish and spoke with her in Hawaiian. After that they could visit the area without problems.

The Maunalua Konohiki

Strict protection of the fish was another element of the konohiki system. Joe Lukela was famous for carrying a shotgun on the beach to regulate poachers who ignored the rules. Although harsh by today’s standards, the old style was highly effective. When the akule schools were in, Lukela would place white flags in the area so that boats would avoid the area and not disturb the fish.

 

In an interview before his death, Lukela’s fishing companion John Rosa spoke about the impact of Henry Kaiser’s elimination of the konohiki. “There were so many people coming here abusing the konohiki. The advertisement saying that Maunalua Bay was good for fishing and skiing. We used to stop them from skiing. Then the fish started to Ruin, Ruin, Ruin. No more mullets like there used to be. The chemical from all these people killed the bay- seaweed, fish. This place used to be one of the greatest fishing areas in the Islands. If you want to go and find out, the Fish and Game they have the records. We used to catch fish by the ton, mullet and akule”.

 

An important thing to remember about the system was that it did not ban all fishing. Mr. Rosa explained it like this, “There were others fishing in the Bay but they couldn’t catch the konohiki fish. There were no kuleanas living here so if you own the land, you have a place to fish. The guy with the rights has to name one fish. Used to be the chief or king. If you catch 3 fish one was for the boss (konohiki)...It could change, sometimes mullet, sometimes akule”.

The Paiko Konohiki

Photo Courtesy: The Joe Young Family

In addition to values of respect and conservation, those who held the konohiki were immersed in cultural knowledge and the proper use of the region’s resources. A fascinating account posted on the Aina Haina Community Association website is told by long time Aina Haina resident Gregg Kashiwa.  He recalls growing up at the end of the konohiki era and learning from Mr. Ewaliko, the Kia’i for the Paiko Konohiki. “He was a very big guy. I always pictured him as a Hawaiian warrior. While stern, as I got to know him he told me many things about Wailupe. He taught me never to pull the ogo roots off the rocks so it would grow back, and to break up all the bubbly branches and throw them back because these were the ogo seeds”.

 

Mr. Ewaliko shared with Kashiwa traditional names like “Pa’a Ha’a” for the shoreline lands between Wailupe Peninsula and the Paiko konohiki and “Kohola” (whale) for Koko Head.  He warned him to never play in the burial caves at Wailupe Valley because of “obake”. Kashiwa vividly remembers the wood barrel of poi that Mr. Ewaliko had in his kitchen. Mr. Ewaliko would trade fresh fish for fresh Wailupe poi which was considered the best. 

 

Photo Courtesy: The Joe Young Family

“The system worked” Kashiwa recollects in the memoir. “The fish pond known as Paiko Lagoon served as a natural hatchery for mullet and nehu...Most of the mullet in Kuapa Pond were taken from the mud flats in front of Kuliouou Park and put into the pond.  The nehu and iao fed the akule fishery off of Portlock. Paiko enforced its Ahupua’a Konohiki fishing rights until after Statehood”.

 

“The Konohiki began at Niu Peninsula and extended west (Ewa up to the small rock wall at Kawaiku’i Beach Park). Directly seaward from that wall, a sign was posted in the ocean half way out to the breakers. It read, PAIKO KONOHIKI#2, NO FISHING and delineated the Paiko Konohiki west boundary. The entire area was teeming with mullet and I recall throw netting there every day after school.”

 

Wise use of natural resources even extended to the water they drank under the konohiki system. “Sweet” water was taken from “a cistern near the Pu’uikena jug handle, fed and cooled by an artesian spring that flowed out of a small cave in the limestone shoreline recalls Kashiwa. “They (the Ewaliko’s) never used City water, and all lived long lives. I always drank water there when fishing or lay in the cold water to cool off on hot days. A third of the mullet caught were left in the cistern for Paiko “taxes.”  These were then collected daily by Mr. Ewaliko and taken to the River Street fish market”.

 

Photo Courtesy: The Joe Young Family

Similar to the current neglect of the fishery, Kawaiku’i Spring now lies collapsed with just traces of its former icy flow. Only an old wall remains to tell the story of the konohiki system that is rapidly fading with its last generation. We are fortunate to have Mr. Kashiwa and folks like him who have managed to keep the memory alive all these years. To this day Kashiwa keeps his lead fishing tag stamped Paiko Konohikiki #2, as a memento of those early days. With time of the essence, let’s put aside the finger pointing about responsibility for our fishery decline. If we are serious about restoring our fish, let’s learn all we can from this brilliant model while we still have kupuna willing to share it with us.

Photo Courtesy: The Joe Young Family, Frank Davey, Bishop Museum

 

 

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