Kamaile by Joni Keamoai

Kililau

Wainiha

Hali'i made her way into the tiny village of Wainiha, just as she did every third day of the week. She always stopped to visit her patients who lived in the farthest reaches of the fields—an elderly couple too weak to walk into the center of the village, and a high-ranking chiefess who was too sickly to travel.

Hali'i knew all the konohiki and their 'ohana in this area. Her favorite visits were with Malanai, a young chiefess married to Ha'ikū, Chief of Hā'ena. Malanai and Ha'ikū had two children: their teenage son, Kililau, and little Hilina'i, just three years old.

Malanai longed for company. Her husband and son spent their days training—Kililau was being trained to one day become konohiki after his father. That left her alone with Hilina'i, who filled the hale with constant energy but not enough to ease Malanai's loneliness.

Hali'i's visits were always welcomed. They talked for hours, sharing stories and news from neighboring villages. Malanai was born with an iron deficiency that made her weak, sometimes fainting unexpectedly. The kahuna could offer little relief, but Hali'i knew the la'au to help her regain strength. She carried herbs from her gardens, along with vegetables and berries rich in iron. These visits always brought a spark of life back into the young chiefess.

"Aloha, Anake Hali'i!" Ha'ikū called as he spotted her approaching their hale. He always called her Anake out of respect. Elders, especially kupuna, were honored with such greetings.

"Aloha," Hali'i replied, waving as she stepped closer. She noticed he was preparing for a journey, gathering his hunting tools.

"Pehea mai kākou?" Ha'ikū asked warmly, embracing her with a honi.

"Maika'i no, mahalo," Hali'i smiled, returning the greeting. "Ihea ʻoe e hele ana?"

He pointed to the mountains rising in the distance. "Maluna ō... makemake au e ho'ike iā Kililau ka wahi kupono no ka pepehi ana o ka pua'a."

Hali'i nodded knowingly. " 'Oia? Malama pono i kāu ha'alele ana."

Just then, a tall, muscular boy barreled out of the hale and nearly collided with her.

"Oh, kalamai e Tutu!" Kililau exclaimed, his face flushed with embarrassment. He quickly hugged her before darting back to his father's side.

"Nānā kāu hele ana," Ha'ikū scolded gently, handing him his eke (bag) and pakini (bucket). They also carried mats and blankets, in case they needed to spend the night in the mountain.

As they walked the trail upward, Kililau glanced at his father. "Papa?"

"He aha?" Ha'ikū replied.

"Is Mama going to get better?"

The question landed heavy on his chest. Ha'ikū had asked himself the same thing countless times. They had consulted many kahuna and healers, but the answer was always uncertain. Only Hali'i seemed to ease Malanai's suffering.

"A'ale wau maopopo," Ha'ikū sighed, deciding whether to tell his son the truth.

"A'ole pilikia, Pops," Kililau said quickly, his voice full of hope. "We can find a way to make Mama's sickness go away."

Ha'ikū smiled faintly. He admired his son's optimism—it was a quality every konohiki needed.

Together they climbed to the top of the ridge, gazing down at the ahupua'a below. Ha'ikū began teaching him about the divisions of land, their responsibilities, and the sacred balance between man and 'āina. Kililau tried to focus, but his eyes kept drifting across the lush valleys, realizing just how heavy the kuleana of his future truly was.