Haunani-Kay Trask on the Interdependence of Cultural and Biological Diversity

“Unremittingly, the history of the modern period is the history of increasing conformity, paid for in genocide and ecocide. The more we are made to be the same, the more the environment we inhabit becomes the same: ‘backward’ people forced into a ‘modern’ (read ‘industrial’) context can no longer care for their environment. As the people are transformed, or more likely, exterminated, their environment is progressively degraded, parts of it destroyed forever. Physical despoliation is reflected in cultural degradation. A dead land is preceded by a dying people. As an example, indigenous languages replaced by ‘universal’ (read ‘colonial’) languages result in the creation of ‘dead languages.’ But what is ‘dead’ or ‘lost’ is not the language but the people who once spoke it and transmitted their mother tongue to succeeding generations. Lost, too, is the relationship between words and their physical referents. In Hawai’i, English is the dominant language, but it cannot begin to encompass the physical beauty of our islands in the unparalleled detail of the Hawaiian language. Nor can English reveal how we knew animals to be our family; how we harnessed the ocean’s rhythms, creating massive fishponds; how we came to know the migrations of deep-ocean fish and golden plovers from the Arctic; how we sailed from hemisphere to hemisphere with nothing but the stars to guide us. English is foreign to Hawai’i; it reveals nothing of our place where we were born, where our ancestors created knowledge now ‘lost’ to the past” (Trask 1993/1999: 59-60).

From Huanani-Kay Trask’s book From a Native Daughter: Colonialism and Sovereignty in Hawai’i. Beautifully written, heart wrenching, and informative, it addresses indigenous struggles in the Pacific and worldwide. Although written in 1993, sadly, 27 years later, it is still very much applicable today. How can make the world hear Trask’s words? How can we heed her warnings?

“The choice is clear. As indigenous peoples, we must fight for Papahānaumoku, even as she–and we–are dying. But where do people in the industrial countries draw their battle lines? On the side of mother earth? On the side of consumption? On the side of First World Nationalism? If human beings, Native and non-Native alike, are to create an alternative to the planned New World Order, then those who live in the First World must change their culture, not only their leaders. Who, then, bears the primary responsibility? Who carries the burden of obligation? Who will protect mother earth?” (Trask 1993/1999: 62).

References:
Trask, H. 1999 [1993]. From a Native Daughter: Colonialism and Sovereignty in Hawai’i. Revised Edition. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press.

Mehana Vaughan on the Abundance of Kaua’i

“Newcomers see the abundance of Kaua’i, where tropical fruits dangle from trees, as idyllic. Kuleana–the hard work, relationships, and balance of giving more than one takes–on which such abundance is built goes unseen. In reality, bountiful lifestyles depend on a community of families who share the bounty of their varied skills and care for one another. Much of this work is unseen or not recognized as work, such as hours spent watching the movement of schools of fish. Yet, this work is nonetheless critical to community well-being, survival, and abundance” (Vaughan 2018, p. 78).

I myself am a newcommer to Hawai’i (I am currently volunteering on a local coffee farm on the Big Island), and I find myself struggling with my dual roles of tourist and anthropologist (or well-informed visitor). Just the other night ten or so boats floated in the nearshore waters of Keauhou, lights illuminating the dark sea. Manta rays swam below. The boats bring tourists to swim with the rays at night. The woman I work for, who grew up fishing, hunting and gathering in this same region on the Big Island of Hawai’i, remarked that the poor rays would not be able to feed properly because of all the commotion and attention. I was torn between two contradictory feelings – firstly that it would be amazing to dive with rays at night, and secondly, that the tourism industry here has altered the natural environment drastically and continues to do so.

As a tourist, I do see this land as idyllic. The lush mountainside and the never-ending blue expanse of the sea are so different from the flatness of Minnesota, where I grew up. We eat fresh avocado every day and the air is heavy with the smell of flowers. But it is important to realize that this land has indeed been managed and cultivated since the arrival of Polynesian explorers. And these fruit trees and flowers are mostly imported species in which people have worked hard to nurture. The ocean and its species have been cared for throughout time as well. The tourism industry benefits from the cultural obligations of responsibility, sharing and knowledge that have protected and nurtured these landscapes, but the industry does not necessarily reciprocate and follow the same ideals. The islands are marketed as untouched, raw beauty, and tourists are often ignorant of the generations of people who have cared for and sustained this “paradise.” Furthermore, the marketing of these islands as a paradise have caused many wealthy mainland Americans to flock to these lands, purchasing plots for exorbitant prices. Because of this, the taxes on surrounding properties rise, making it difficult for local families to keep their traditional lands.

Vaughan’s book is about community on the island of Kaua’i, which has some important differences to the Big Island and the Kona region where I am located, but the themes and messages of the book remain relevant. Vaughan speaks to the importance of respecting resources and sharing the abundances of the island. She also notes the importance of knowledge and understanding the natural world in order to properly protect and nourish it. She stresses the struggles that native Hawaiians have faced over the years. For any tourists on their way to Hawaii, I would recommend this book as it is easily enjoyed by both anthropologists and non-anthropologists and touches on some important issues that every tourist should be aware of.

The Big Island, Hawai’i, land and sea. At Kealakekua, 2019.

References:

Vaughan, Mehana B. 2018. Kaiāulu: Gathering Tides. Corvallis, OR: Oregon State Univ. Press.

Plastic Beaches

“You see the plastic from the sea? It stocks up on the beach. It is full of it there. I think it’s because of this that fish do not come to our waters anymore, they look for places that are good. I say this often during political meetings – ‘we need to go pick up all this stuff there,’ but they don’t move. It’s not good for the environment. And it’s a beautiful beach. I lived in that valley. For about four years, I lived there when I was young, when I went hunting. It’s not good. You will find nets, plastic bags, bottles, it is full of them, there is everything. It’s just above Motopu – a small village above. You say to your [government] ‘give me money so that I can go pick it up’ you say this to your [government]. You have to say this. It’s best. Because like this, soon the Marquesas will be dead. It will die.” – Kiki, Vaitahu, Tahuata

Plastic pollution is a problem for many Pacific Islands. Ocean currents bring plastic from far away places, but also from local sources of pollution. Unfortunately, islands like Tahuata do not always have the resources to clean up these beaches, nor is everybody aware of this pollution. Kiki was one of few islanders who spoke to me directly about this plastic problem, possibly because of his personal connection with the beach in question. Kiki implores the government to do something about this issue, but he says, “They don’t listen to us.” Just cleaning up the beach will not bring an end to the problem, either. Behaviors must be changed as well, both locally and globally.