Huliau - The Return Voyage

Last summer ( it seems years ago), ‘Iokepa wrote the words for this website. He wrote: “If you have a single drop of native Hawaiian blood, we invite you to join the conversation.”

The aboriginal Hawaiians never judged their relationship between one another by the amount of indigenous blood that had–or had not–been diluted by intermarriage. You were Hawaiian even when you were born red-headed, blue eyed, and aboriginal–if you claimed it, accepted responsibility for it, and lived it.

Now, however, there exisits a most divisive law, measuring, “Blood Quantum.” This government-imposed means of eliminating native claims–if they lack, “A fifty-percent blood quantum”–is something that came to the Islands from elsewhere, with the sole intention of politically diminishing the strength-in-numbers of these people. It was, and is, alien to the culture.

So, when ‘Iokepa stepped up to assume the responsibility for Huliau–The Return Voyage, and he put together the words for this website: He was simply reminding his people of their inheritance, and their need to claim it. He was including the disenfranchised.

We could not have foreseen the response that, “If you have a single drop of native Hawaiian blood…,” generated from those who are not aboriginal Hawaiians. We were genuinely stunned.

First, there was the flood of heartbreaking entreaties: These from people who had lived on the Islands for many years. They feared that they were being refused entry to Return Voyage gatherings–or even worse, were being nudged off the Islands by the very people they loved and supported.

Next, we heard from people across the continental United States, and beyond–who were curious, interested, or simply wanted to know more about the Hawaiian people and their beliefs. They too read that their lack of, “A single drop of native Hawaiian blood” cut them out of the conversation.

Finally, there were the raging emails. These from people calling us, “Hypocrites,” “Racists,” and worse because they assumed that they were excluded. “I was born with white skin. Do you love me less? Examine your truth. Your reality keeps us separate.”

We immediately added a second line to this web-page–directly under the offending line, and in the same boldface-type: “If you have no Hawaiian blood and you want to experience The Return Voyage–come.”

Then, ‘Iokepa answered every email:

“The aboriginal Hawaiian culture has always been inclusive. My ancestors welcomed every guest to the Islands with open arms, opens hands and open hearts. Huliau–The Return Voyage represents a return to everything my ancestors lived. I represent a 1,000 year old prophecy that predicts, what happens on the Hawaiian Islands will be an opportunity for all the peoples on earth to emulate. At it’s heart–and within its foundation–is inclusion of all parts of Creation, human, animal and element.”

In other words: The website was intended to be inclusive and welcoming. First, to the Native people who have been told by “Blood Quantum” legislation, they no longer counted as Hawaiian. Second, to every soul who can find it in his or her heart to value the truth within the ancient wisdom, the aloha on the Hawaiian Islands, and the goodness of these indigenous people.

There is absolutely no litmus test for attending these retreats (now in Asheville, North Carolina). I am ‘Iokepa’s wife: I am an observant Jewish woman, from Baltimore. There is love between us–but there is also symbolism.

The most divine human act, we solemnly believe, is that reach across the differences between us, to authentic compassion for the stranger. ‘Iokepa and I respect and support one another’s cultural beliefs. How could we possibly live this marriage, and exclude strangers from this journey?

We are in Southwestern, Virginia, and for me–who reared young sons in Roanoke from 1986 to 1994–it is a coming home. Nowhere are people more compassionate, less likely to erect barriers to intimacy–or more falsely maligned–than in the heart of the old Confederacy.

I was guilty of just such regional accusations and stereotypes–until I lived here. My small family came to depend on the kindness of total strangers in those vulnerable years, and we were never disappointed. I yearned to bring ‘Iokepa “home” with me. He (with his long silver hair and his brown aboriginal face) has yet to meet a stranger here. He has encountered a level of civility among the racially diverse, that is (we both believe) lacking in places that are more universally credited for open-minded hospitality: the Hawaiian Islands among them.

We have a Southern friend who sums it up: “You don’t have to like me. But that’s no reason to be impolite”

And that is the truth of Roanoke. Northerners are quick to point historically self-righteous fingers. But the truth, here, is a society that takes care of its own. In that way, the American South shares values with the indigenous Hawaiians: Their deep sense of community–an assumed responsibility for one another, beyond the narrow confines of, “Family.”

And with that, I will digress.

We have had two delightfully successful Return Voyage retreats here, this week. There were no Native Hawaiians present, with the singular exception of ‘Iokepa. Instead, the living rooms were crammed with people who simply wanted to know more. Some had vacationed on the Islands, most had not. The questions were deep, probing, and respectful. The rooms were alive with authentic exchange.

I come now full circle. Within the retreats, there were Hawaiian words, ‘Iokepa spoke, that touched Virginian hearts. Participants asked us to write them here, to spell them out carefully, to help with the pronunciation, and then, to define them fully.

So, for those Virginians who have given of their hearts and minds in support of the Hawaiian people, their culture, and the Return Voyage–in honor of the best of our shared values, we offer this.

‘Ohana (pronounced, “Oh-hahnah”). This word has been shrunk in common usage to mean only, “Family.” However, it’s aboriginal meaning is: “Everything you can see, that you can wrap your heart around, is your responsibility to take care of.”

Kahiau (pronounced, “Kah-hee-ow”). This word has virtually dropped out of modern usage. It means: “Giving, with no expectation of return.”

And finally: Aloha (pronounced, “”Alo-HA”). This word has been narrowly defined to mean: “Hello,” “Good-bye,” or “Love.” ‘Iokepa says: “It means none of those things. We have words for those three.” It means instead: “In the presence of God in every breath.” As greeting, it is an acknowledgement of your soul.

So ‘Iokepa and I have travelled a long way from Hawai’i, and a day doesn’t pass when we do not miss faces, places, and the gentility of the genuine Hawaiian culture. But our message is community; our message is the shared responsibility for every part this earth. And 6,000 miles from Hawai’i, we have been warmly embraced by people who live that still.

It was nearing our wedding anniversary; we were travelling in the thick of the Eastern Seaboard, and we tried to conjure up what might be the best gift we could offer one another–and ourselves. The answer was obvious. What we needed most was private time with one another.

This Return Voyage tour has been many things for us: Powerful, challenging, and gratifying in every imaginable way (and a number of unimaginable ones). What it has not been–is solitary. What it has not been–is quiet.

We missed our languid, silent, alone days, months and years on Hawaiian beaches staring at the Pacific Ocean.

So this week, to commemorate our anniversary, we headed further East, to the Atlantic.

And because Inette carries a lifetime of sweet memories of summers, watching toddler-through-pubescent sons frolicking among the teeming masses at Rehobeth Beach, Delaware–that’s where we chose.

There are some distinct differences between The Salt Pans, on Kaua’i, in mid-December, and Rehobeth Beach, at that identical time. It was neither 80 degrees, nor was it sunny. It was half that, at 40 degrees; it was windy, damp and grey. For that matter, Rehobeth in December bore little in common with the Delaware shore in August: The crowds were non-existent; most commercial establishments were closed.

In sum: It was perfect. We had the beach to ourselves.

‘Iokepa mocked the cold: “A Hawaiian walking on a beach with shoes on!” I offered to carry his shoes. He chose, instead to walk on the Boardwalk. We were alone there, staring out at this much-calmer-than-ours ocean–night and day.

We spent our anniversary at the Delaware Inn, a seven room Bed and Breakfast, one block from the ocean. Owner, Sharon Janis is a talented and fascinating woman, whose real gift is “Hospitality.” This transplanted Southerner brought with her to the Delaware Shore: Her grandmother’s antique furniture, her father’s open-mind, her own genuine ability to make her guests (Just us and one other woman from Ottawa, on this midweek visit) comfortable, in ways I didn’t know that I required. She shamed everything I have ever encountered that claimed to offer, “Service.”

Yes: Food played a part. (Homemade brownies and ice cream were brought to our room when we returned from dinner.) Breakfasts were multi-course, and tailored to idiosyncratic tastes. But perhaps more than anything–and it is saying a great deal on top of polished, cotton sheets, and inside terry robes–was the conversation. We shared ideas and lives.

So we went for the solitude and we found that in spades. We went for the ocean horizon and the sand beach–and we were not disappointed. We went for the silence, and we got much more.

If Return Voyage is an outrigger canoe, you, dear friends, are the wind in its sails.

If Return Voyage is the grand metaphor for our individual search for authenticity and meaning, you dear supporters are the concrete, literal fact of that matter–the living truth.

If Return Voyage is utterly and totally a walk of faith–moving only on the fuel of ancestral and divine guidance–then our supporters are the hand of God in action.

Because you have asked to know–we offer a couple of credits (that were neither solicited nor expected).

This beautiful webside is the work of the very gifted computer, software-designing, guru, Tom Leonard, of Kailua-Kona, Hawai’i.

The photographs of ‘Iokepa and Inette on the website are the artistic wonder of, writer-photographer, Hamilton Gregory of Asheville, North Carolina.

The state of the art laptop we carry; the 1998 Black Camry with gold trim and grey leather interior, that carries us, “From the Redwood forests to the Gulf Stream waters…” were gifts.

Forgive us, dear friends, for beginning a list for which there is truly no end. Every meal, every tank of gas, every bed where we lay our heads, even the suitcase we carry has been an unsolicited gift of kahiau–giving with no expectation of return.

This journey is a journey of hearts and souls. We light the path for one another, do we not? Our personal gifts are unique; our cultural ones, no less. No more can be asked in this life than that we live our gifts fully, and use them for the good of both the folks who crowd this canoe–and the sea it sails on.

Mahalo.