Star-Bulletin Features


Monday, September 14, 1998



By Ken Sakamoto, Star-Bulletin
At dawn, the halau Na Hula O Puamana gathers at
the Kualoa Ranch beach for an uniki ceremony.



Becoming kumu

In a rare graduation ceremony
called uniki, a dancer's dedication
and skill are rewarded

By Linda Aragon
Special to the Star-Bulletin

Tapa

AS the red and yellow streaks of the dawn peaked over the ocean's horizon, members of the hula halau Na Hula O Puamana raced to beat the rising sun as they drove from Hauula to a narrow strip of beach fronting Kualoa Ranch.

They wanted to be in the water before daybreak for a cleansing ceremony. Seventeen halau members, wearing bathing suits and sarongs, walked into the water holding hands to pray and chant a Hawaiian greeting to the sun.

They had gathered at this early hour to perform one of the last in a series of rituals known as the uniki, or graduation. About six hours earlier, they had gathered for a spare meal of dried red shrimp, white fish, limu, poi and Hawaiian salt. Portions are kept small to provide the dancers with just enough energy to meditate, without making them drowsy. The meditation continued from midnight to 2 a.m.

The dancers get just a few hours of sleep before the sunrise prayer and cleansing ceremony. Later in the day, one of the halau members would earn the respected title of kumu hula.

"You can't just say you want to become a kumu hula," said Puluelo Park, the founder and kumu of the Kailua-based halau.

Truth Contest Vaima Only the most gifted and dedicated dancers make it to this level. After spending nearly half a century teaching, Park has only performed this graduation twice. Now, 13 years since the last graduation, she has decided Alexis Kapualani McElroy is ready to become a kumu hula.

The two other graduates have been Park's daughters, Puamana Park, for whom the halau is named, and Pumehana Featheran.

While McElroy may not have been born into Park's family, after 18 years of dancing with the halau she walks with the grace and speaks with the gentleness that is shared by the women in Park's hula family.

A bright full moon lit the night sky at the outdoor performance where Park performed a solo dance and was introduced to invited guests and kumu from other halau. At the close of the show, the other kumu stood to chant a welcome to their new peer.

"It's a great honor when they do that," said Park, who grew up in the 1920s in the Big Island's Kohala district. She said the person called kumu commanded the same respect as a high chiefess of ancient times.

"You never told your kumu 'no,' " Park said. "It's more respect on that side."

Park said that as a young girl, she studied under some teachers who guarded their practices so secretively that parents were not allowed to photograph their children dancing. When she asked her father why so many of the old traditions were lost, she said his answer was, "That's how the Hawaiians die, with all of their information."

She hopes to change that now with her philosophy: "Don't hide. Give out. That's why you are teachers."

At the same time, she doesn't believe in churning out dozens of kumu hula.

"I'm an old-time kumu," Park said. "We try to graduate a student who knows everything. Otherwise, what's the sense of a graduation?"

"I think today we tend to use the term kumu loosely," said Featheran. She and her mother agreed that some dancers in the community have gone on to lead their own halau, without having completed the steps leading to an uniki.


By Ken Sakamoto, Star-Bulletin
Alexis Kapualani McElroy, second from right, is t
he graduating kumu hula. Holding her hands are
Puluelo Naipo Park, left, and Bob Stauffer.



"You get people saying they're kumu hula, and then you ask where they puka (pass through or graduate) from, and they don't want to talk about it," Park said. "They don't uniki, and then all of a suddent they are big-time kumu hula."

Featheran said advanced dancers reach two intermediate levels of training before advancing to the teaching position of kumu. At this time, eight of the halau members are also being promoted to the title 'olapa, acknowledging dancers who have worked for years to achieve a level of competence in performing required chants and dances.

"It was understood you did the 'olapa, then the ho'opa'a, then you were a kumu," Featheran said.

To become a kumu, the student must be proficient in chanting, drumming and customs of the ancient kahiko style of dance. "It's a lot of memory work," Park said.

Since the kumu are in a position to teach, she said that it's important for such individuals to preserve and pass on the ancient chants and rituals as close to their original forms as possible. As part of her training, Park would give McElroy 50 to 100 lines of a chant to repeat in Hawaiian, a language McElroy said she is still trying to learn.

In addition, the kumu must also create new chants and compose and choreograph new 'auana dances and songs. "You have to be creative to be a kumu hula," Park said.

While Park receives her inspiration from dreams, McElroy said she composes by recalling plces and memories that she holds dear, such as Kailua, where she was born and raised.

In March, McElroy and the eight students who were being promoted to 'olapa traveled to Kauai as part of the uniki.

"Our kumu is from there, and whenever we graduate we take our students back there," said Park, who counts among her teachers Lokalia Montgomery, who was taught by a dancer from King Kalakaua's court. In private lessons with Montgomery, Park learned the ancient styles of Kauai.

The ceremony included a pre-dawn dip in the frigid waters of Haena Beach, then a hike to a naturally carved altar in the mountain, Ke Ahu A Laka, dedicated to Laka, the goddess of hula.

Here, the halau danced where many hula practioners have come before to perform the pilgrimage. McElroy said she considered that moment as her actual graduation.

The new kumu says she has not made plans for her new role. For now, she'll continue to help teach the halau's adult class and take care of her own children. She has three daughters, ages 1, 4 and 9.

"There's the halau right there," she said.



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