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Spirit
of Aloha | Articles
| Island Chronicles | July/August
2003
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By:
Carol Silva
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Island Chronicles
Night
Spirits
After the sun went down, the spiritual inhabitants of darkness
roamed the land of the living
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Night
falls on Windward O'ahu's Olomana Peak.
Photo by Brett Uprichard
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Darkness
was the realm of spirits. It was at night that gods and mischievous
night creatures, fallen chiefs and warriors, deceased family
members and guardians walked among the living. From nightfall
to the small hours of the morning, singly and in groups, they
roamed the land on familiar footpaths they had trodden in
life. Then, when dawn kindled the embers at the edge of the
night sky, the lapu (apparitions) and huaka'i po
(night marchers) were banished from the Earth until the final
blush of another sunset called them forth again.
Night held a supreme place in the Hawaiian cosmos. Hawaiians
believed that out of darkness came life-that the creative
po, or night, of the spirit world engendered the physical
world of light, in which humans lived. They marked the passage
of time with the nightly phases of the moon and began the
count of each new 24-hour period at nightfall.
On certain nights, the people observed special rites for these
dwellers of the world of darkness-the gods and the spirits
of their ancestors. The third through sixth nights of the
lunar cycle, and the 14th, 24th, 25th, 27th and 28th nights
were kapu-sacred. On such nights, huaka'i po,
the night processions of the gods, ancestral spirits and high-ranking
chiefs and warriors, wandered about their customary haunts.
A phalanx of the akua (gods) was especially formidable. Five
rows of akua, six abreast, carried blazing, red torches to
light the beginning, three middle sections and end of the
long huaka'i (procession). Accompanying the huaka'i
akua were chants naming the gods and their accomplishments,
as well as the more dramatic forms of natural phenomena, such
as heavy rainfall with mist, thunder, lightning and rough
seas. The next morning, a path or road found littered with
broken branches and leaves would attest to the passage of
the huaka'i through the area.
The 'aumakua, or ancestral guardian spirits, had their
own huaka'i. This procession took place not only at night,
but during the day as well. If at night, the torches could
be seen even in heavy rain; if by day, the huaka'i were
frequently followed by whirlwinds stirring up dirt and leaves
in their wake. According to Hawaiian cultural authority Mary
Kawena Pukui, huaka'i 'aumakua often came to collect
the spirits of deceased family members to take them into their
ranks.
The huaka'i of chiefs and their warriors differed according
to each particular chief's likes and dislikes. The procession
was accompanied by the playing of the chief's favorite
musical instruments, such as drums and nose-flutes. All the
rights and privileges associated with his rank were observed-for
example, if his face or back had been sacred in life, no member
of the huaka'i was allowed to march before or behind
him.
Personal encounters with the huaka'i on footpaths or
roads could be fatal for the living-immediate death was
the usual penalty meted out by the ilamuku, or spirit
enforcers of the kapu. Sometimes, a person could avoid punishment
by stepping out of the way and lying motionless and partially
unclothed by the side of the path-thus presenting a disgusting
sight to the marchers and causing them to continue on without
harming him. Another way of escaping punishment was with the
intervention of family 'aumakua in the huaka'i,
who would plead with the other spirits to spare the life of
their family member.
Most feared the huaka'i. However, for those near death,
who had been faithful to their 'aumakua or who were descended
from chiefs, the huaka'i were welcome, for they brought
about a reunion with ancestors and loved ones.
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