Huliau - The Return Voyage

The Somewhat Distant Past:

For the first 46 years of his life, cars and driving played a central role in ‘Iokepa Hanalei ‘Imaikalani’s life.  When he relinquished, “Everything that I worked for all my life,” to answer to his ancestors’ call to return home to the Hawaiian Islands 13 years ago, and live a life of service to his people and his land, he owned, “Seven cars and a hot rod.”

Professionally:  He ran a business that featured heavy construction machinery–”Kenworth dump trucks, John Deere road graders, Barber-Greene paving machines, Komatsu excavators, Caterpillar loaders and bulldozers…”–a language, all its own.  Over his long career, he lay 108 inch water pipe for Seattle’s watershed; he paved freeways throughout the Northwest.  He ran forests of  of enormous machinery.  He was proud of his hand-eye dexterity, his physical skill, and his overwhelming organizational responsibility.

For fun:  He raced cars, motorcycles, and boats.  He had a pristine driving record of thirty years.

The Less Distant Past:

On January 30, 1997, ‘Iokepa experienced his epiphany.  His Grandmothers came, reminded him of his “Promises,” and required that he relinquish “Everything that I worked for all my life” to take this walk of faith on behalf of his people and his homeland.

Thirteen years ago he returned to the Hawaiian Islands with  a small Nike duffel in hand and $100 in his pocket–nothing else–no cars, no credit cards, no phone, no family photographs.  Within two weeks, he had given “Everything I worked for…” away (and sold nothing).

Central to the Grandmothers’ admonishments and guidance:  “You will carry no identification, and claim no identity other than your native Hawaiian one.” He dropped his hard-earned, 26 year old, flawless commercial driving license in the trashcan at the Kaua’i airport.  He tore up his social security card, and never again used that number.

He met me, on my brief vacation to Kaua’i from Portland–ten months into his walk of faith.  Six months after that meeting, my son and I joined lives with ‘Iokepa and his people.  I too relinquished a lifetime of possession–but somewhat more slowly.

In the year and a half since ‘Iokepa had arrived, Nike duffel in hand, he had walked at least ten miles daily.  It was his meditation.  If necessary, he hitchhiked.  When son Daniel and I arrived, we brought with us my 1991 Toyota Camry.  It was registered and insured in my name.  I have no Hawaiian grandmothers, I am not kanaka maoli and I do not pretend to be one.  I carry an American driver’s license.

‘Iokepa and I lived in that car for ten years (several of those with teenage Daniel).  It was our home.  It held almost all of our worldly possessions.  We camped in tents out of it–and we slept in it.

For those ten years ‘Iokepa drove this car.  (And continued to walk each of the Hawaiian Islands as part of his work.)  There has never been a scratch, nick, or fender bender.

Only Two Years Past:

Two years ago, the Grandmothers made clear that it was vital to, “Take all that you’ve lived these ten years on the Hawaiian Islands to the United States and speak of it.”   ‘Iokepa has driven in these two years, 50,000 car miles from Maine to Arizona, Florida to Minnesota, Louisiana to New York.   The car that he drives in these Return Voyage speaking tours is a 1998 Camry–on loan to Return Voyage from a friend.  It is insured and registered. There has never been a nick, scratch, or fender bender.  I gave away my 1991 Camry (then 16 years old) when we left the Islands for the first Return Voyage tour.

For thirteen years now, ‘Iokepa has flown on airplanes and driven the continent with no official federal or state government issued identification.  He carries a card that identifies him with a Hawaiian heiau that he clears and serves.  A friend printed the card on his computer.  It is laminated.  (See “Identity” on this blogsite:  March 7, 2009).

The Present:

Between the first and second Return Voyage tours, we came home to Kaua’i for just four months.  We had no car.  Some friends bought themselves a new car, and gave ‘Iokepa their old one:  a 1998 Subaru Legacy wagon.  It had an active registration through September, 2009.  We left the car and Island just after Christmas, 2008.

When we returned this September, the car’s registration and insurance had expired.

Let me make this as clear as possible:  For thirteen years, ‘Iokepa has identified himself solely and fully as a native Hawaiian.  He has lived and worked so as to restore that cultural heritage, and the freedom to practice that heritage to his people.

Without a U.S. driver’s license, it is impossible to buy car insurance.  Without car insurance, it is impossible to register an automobile.  So, on November 10, when ‘Iokepa was stopped and ticketed for:  Expired registration, no insurance, and no driver’s license–’Iokepa felt the time had come to speak his words on behalf of his nation and his people inside the courtroom.

Well-meaning, intelligent folks have challenged ‘Iokepa’s responsibility for driving uninsured, or have feared that the insurance issue poses a distraction from the more important issue at hand.  Because my husband lives a life for which “Responsibility” for one another and for every part of Creation is his heart’s blood, and because he agrees with respondents to my last Ever Changing page essay–this week, he has taken some actions to help keep all eyes on the ball here.

The car he was driving when he was ticketed is now insured and registered.  It is no longer ‘Iokepa’s.  He will continue to drive as needed, without a license that asks him to define himself by a nationality that he does not accept as his own.

He will appear in court on February 11 to state his case.

Again, I repeat:

He enters court, less to challenge American law, than to defend his people’s right to their cultural and spiritual identity.  He enters court to try to press past that fence that separates spectator and accused, to speak of a culture that, “Welcomed every guest here with open arms, open hands, and open heart.”  He enters court less to oppose, than to embrace.

“Justice and law are two different things,” ‘Iokepa said.

“American law is this wide.”  (He holds his hands inches apart.) ” It takes care of a few.  My culture is  larger than that; it takes responsibility for every soul, and every part of Creation.

“There remain laws that require that I carry identification with a nation that is not my own, that ask me to obey laws that remove me from my cultural practices and my identity.  I cannot.”

He enters court:  The living embodiment of God’s plan for the kanaka maoli–the Native Hawaiians.  He enters court asking nothing for himself, and everything for his people.

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For the first time ever, ‘Iokepa Hanalei ‘Imaikalani walked into a United States courtroom in Hawai’i.

He was just another, “Traffic offender” among  dozens:  Violators of the mandated speed limits, folks who’d innocently let their car registration lapse, those who simply could not afford to pay car insurance premiums, and drunk drivers.

When his turn came:  ‘Iokepa walked through the gate that separated spectator from accused.  He stood with his back to the seats behind;  his shoulders squared;  his waist-length silver hair shining under the fluorescent lights; his light brown eyes riveted on the judge.  He articulated his full name clearly– because even in Hawai’i (especially in Hawai’i) Hawaiian names are most often mispronounced.

‘Iokepa said:  “I am not guilty of all charges,” and he asked for a jury trial.  He was denied one.  Instead, he will be tried on February 11, 2010, at ten in the morning, before this judge.  He will be permitted to, “Offer witnesses–and present evidence.”

Witnesses to what?  To his identity as a Native Hawaiian who carries his ancestors’ DNA in his blood, who embraces and lives his culture daily.

Evidence of what?  That for 13 years he has relinquished all claims to American identity, and every imaginable perk that goes with that, to fully live the authentic culture of his ancestors.

Let me step back a moment here, and set the stage

For 150 years–until 1972:  At the behest of the Calvinist missionaries and their sugar cane baron offspring, American-imposed law forbade the practice of the  13,000  year old aboriginal culture on any of these eight inhabited Hawaiian Islands.

For 150 years–until 1972:  Native Hawaiians were forbidden by Hawaiian territorial and state law from  naming their child a Hawaiian first name; it had to be Christian.  This wasn’t as purposeless as it seems:  Within Hawaiian culture, the child’s name (given by the ancestors, often in dreams) identified his or her destiny.

For 150 years–until 1972:  Native Hawaiians were forbidden by law from dancing the kahiko–the original hula.  Hula was prayer (never entertainment)–and if you were blessed, when the dancer transcended, she took the community with her.

For 150 years–until 1972:  Native Hawaiians were forbidden by law from using their traditional plants and herbs for healing.  Only in recent years, has the western world acknowledged the powers of the Hawaiian Noni plant, the Kalo plant, the Kawa root .

For 150 years–until 1972:  Native Hawaiians were forbidden by law from practicing their ancient way of life because it conflicted with the European missionary ideal of imposed Christianity, and because the assumption (solidified into a brutal legal system) assumed that the Hawaiian people, who lived their connection to every thread and breathe of Creation, were inferior.

For 150 years–until 1972:  Native Hawaiians were shamed and punished for speaking their own poetic, metaphoric language in public.

Since 1972, when these punitive, culturally genocidal laws were lifted, these sorely oppressed people have struggled to find their way home.   Return Voyage is the work of that return.  It is impossible for ‘Iokepa’s people to forget that which had been surgically removed by law.

‘Iokepa’s grandmothers insisted thirteen years ago that in order to fully claim the life that his ancestors bequeathed him, on the land that was his inheritance, he must never again carry identification that speaks to allegiance to any land other than his own.  Dutiful mo’opuna (grandchild) that he is, he has complied.

He enters court, less to challenge American law, than to defend his people’s right to their cultural and spiritual identity.  He enters court to try to press past that fence that separates spectator and accused, to speak of a culture that, “Welcomed every guest here with open arms, open hands, and open heart.”  He enters court less to oppose, than to embrace.

“Justice and law are two different things,” ‘Iokepa said.

“American law is this wide.”  (He holds his hands inches apart.) ” It takes care of a few.  My culture is  larger than that; it takes responsibility for every soul, and every part of Creation.

“There remain laws that require that I carry identification with a nation that is not my own, that ask me to obey laws that remove me from my cultural practices and my identity.  I cannot.”

He enters court:  The living embodiment of God’s plan for the kanaka maoli–the Native Hawaiians.  He enters court asking nothing for himself, and everything for his people.

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