Rant & Rave
Rant & Rave
WHEN I was little, my family would have an imu for every special occasion they could think of. Now, it's a dying art, not only for my family, but other families as well. This is unfortunate and we should try to preserve it. Our generation needed
to save traditionsI guess my uncle agrees. One weekend I was invited to go to his house to help make an imu for another relative's wedding. I had participated in building imus in the past, but this was the first in which I had a big role.
When I got to his house, I thought that all the work had been done. In fact, nothing had been started. My uncle gave me and my cousin a quick lesson on how to cut the wood. He took the ax and with one chop he cut through the kiawe like it was butter. Then he told me to try. He said that if I could cut the wood in two chops, I was OK. If I could cut the wood in one chop I was a man.
I thought I could do it in one chop. I gave the ax a good swing and ... nothing. All the kiawe had was a little scratch. I must say I felt pretty weak. After I chopped one log my uncle went to get some banana stumps. I stayed back and cut more logs. By the time my uncle came back, I had gotten the one chop swing down. I was so glad I could cut the kiawe in one chop that I overdid it. I cut too much wood.
After that, we started digging the hole for the imu. It was about 2-1/2-feet deep-by-5-feet wide. The ground was all sand so it didn't take too long to finish.
Then the pig came. The pig started at a good 500 pounds; after it was gutted and cleaned, it was around 350 pounds. We made some small cuts in the flesh so it would cook faster. Then we washed the remaining blood out.
AFTER the pig was prepped, we started the fire. First we set a long, skinny piece of wood in the center of the pit, standing up. Then we placed some small pieces of wood around it like a log cabin. After the wood was stacked high enough, we added rocks to the pile, doused the wood with lighter fluid and set it on fire. After a while, the fire was so hot that you couldn't get within 5 feet of the imu without tearing.
Next we started smashing banana stump with a 12-pound sledgehammer. That took a lot out of me.
When the rocks were hot enough, we took the good, round rocks and put them inside the pig, tied the pig shut and wrapped it in chicken wire. Then we set a second piece of chicken wire down in the pit and put the smashed banana stumps on top to create steam to cook the pig. I placed the pig on top of the banana stumps and covered it with banana leaves and damp potato sacks. We covered the potato sacks with a tarp, then dirt.
We waited 12 hours for the pig to be cooked. The next day, my mom woke me up around 6 a.m. to go back to my uncle's house and take the pig out of the imu.
When we got there, my uncle was already outside, checking on the imu. You could smell the cooked meat through the ground. Lifting off the layers of materials on top of the pig, we found the meat was falling apart, which meant it was cooked. Everybody helped shred the pig into smaller pieces to bag for the wedding.
I gained a lot of knowledge from this one experience. I appreciate the way ancient Hawaiians were able to do things so well without the technology we have today. I think we should try to keep the ancient arts alive and preserve them for future generations.
Philip St. Laurent is a 1999 graduate of
Kaiser High School and is 45 percent Hawaiian.Rant & Rave is a Tuesday Star-Bulletin feature
allowing those 12 to 22 to serve up fresh perspectives.
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