Kamaile by Joni Keamoai

Kealohilani

Manā

"Papa!" Alohi's voice rang through the hale, nearly waking everyone inside. "I finished my chores!" she announced proudly.

Hoʻomana shook his head, hiding a small smile as he prepared for the day's work. He already knew her plan—if she finished her chores early, she would beg to ride with him partway and then visit Kapua and Kaulana's hale.

"Oh really? Let me have a look," he said, keeping his tone steady. He wasn't fond of her being kapulu—messy—just to rush through.

Alohi followed right on his heels as he inspected her work, her eyes fixed on his face, trying to read his reaction.

"Hmmm," Hoʻomana sighed, shaking his head slowly. "I think you missed a spot."

Alohi made a mental note immediately—she'd go back later and wipe that corner spotless.

"Well... except for that one spot," Hoʻomana finally declared. "I'd say you've done a good job. You've earned yourself a visit to the Kealoha's hale."

Alohi jumped with excitement and nearly tackled her father into a hug, almost knocking him over.

The road to Waiawa was long and hot, the red dirt dry beneath their kama'a (footwear) as the sun pressed down. Alohi dragged her feet.

"How much farther, Papa?" she whined, wiping her forehead.

"Their hale is much farther than where we're going," he replied calmly. Her exaggerated sigh told him she was already worn out.

Makani, walking beside them, noticed. "I'll take her," he offered, already glancing toward a nearby farm where a lio (horse) grazed.

"ʻOia hiki nō," Hoʻomana agreed with a nod. He trusted Makani—and besides, Alohi looked like she might faint.

"Hele ana wau e hopu ka lio!" Makani called, sprinting ahead. Soon he was back, reins in hand, guiding the horse. He stopped in front of Alohi and offered his hand.

She climbed up behind him, gripping his waist tightly as if her life depended on it. Her cheek pressed against his back.

"Paʻa pono," Makani instructed firmly.

"A hui hou, Papa!" Alohi called, waving as Makani turned the horse toward the river.

Their destination was Kawaiulailiahi—the river where the mountain spring of Makaweli flowed to the sea, where Pāula'ula, home to Kaumualiʻi sits - aliʻi nui of the ʻāina.

⸻

Nounou

"Kili! ... Kili!" Manaleo's voice echoed through the forest. He was panting, frustrated, and very hungry.

Kililau crouched in the brush, holding back laughter as his cousin's voice grew louder. Finally, when Mana shouted, "Elēu Kili pōloli au!"—complaining of his hunger—Kililau leapt out with a grin.

"Of course you are," he teased. He had beaten Mana again in their race up the mountain.

Mana scowled but couldn't deny it—Kililau was faster, taller, and agile. He, on the other hand, was strong and stocky, built like a warrior.

By the time they returned to the hale, dinner was nearly ready. Haʻikū and Kililau had brought over kalua pig, slow-cooked overnight in the imu, for their ʻohana. Malanai and little Hilinaʻi had come too, planning to stay several nights with Kahiau, Leimomi, and Manaleo.

That evening the lanai was full of life—mothers chatting on the porch with freshly brewed Mamake tea, the boys throwing spears in the yard, and Haʻikū rocking Hilinaʻi to sleep while speaking with his brother about island matters.