CRAIG T. KOJIMA / CKOJIMA@STARBULLETIN.COM Sione Tuione Pulotu Sr. and his wife, Mahana, stood in front of a canoe that he carved. Sione recently was honored for his contributions to Brigham Young University-Hawaii.

Family finds
fulfillment in
fine carvings

The Pulotus have a tradition
of intricate workworking

---

By Leila Fujimori
lfujimori@starbulletin.com

Growing up in the shadow of a master carver wasn't easy for Sione "Johnny" Tuione Pulotu Jr.

"There's no way I wanted to be compared to him," the 37-year-old math teacher said. So when he began sculpting in wood, he stayed away from the renowned Polynesian carving of his Tongan father and opted for a contemporary style.

He and brother Puaita, 36, both blessed with artistic talent, gravitated toward carving as they grew older.

But Puaita wasn't impressed with his father's work until, in his late 20s, he saw the throne for the king of Tonga that his father had carved. He was awed by the intricate leaf patterns of the 7-foot-tall, 4-foot-wide throne with thick arms, befitting the king's stature.

"Everything was perfect," he said. "He's a perfectionist at what he does."

Last month, Brigham Young University bestowed upon Laie's Sione Tuione Pulotu Sr. its 2002 Presidential Citation for his contributions, including a magnificent 57-foot Hawaiian sailing canoe "Iosepa" for its Hawaiian studies program, and the construction of thatched-roof huts at the Polynesian Cultural Center, the Hawaii Temple Visitors Center and buildings on the BYU campus.

The 63-year-old Pulotu's work has been a source of pride to his family -- his Tahitian wife, Mahana, their three sons, three daughters and 13 grandchildren.

"I didn't really carve until I came in 1960," Pulotu said. At 20, he was the youngest of a group on a labor mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints that came to build the thatched-roof buildings of the Polynesian Cultural Center.

Growing up in Tonga, however, Pulotu crafted tapa beaters, walking sticks, drums and model canoes. "I did help older folks building outrigger canoes, 12-footers to 25-footers," he said.

But it was a tiki standing in front of Longs Drug Store at Ala Moana Center in 1960 that spurred Pulotu's interest in carving.

"I was so much interested, during lunchtime, I would take a piece of wood and carved what I saw," Pulotu said. He made lots of tikis until he got pretty good.

CRAIG T. KOJIMA / CKOJIMA@STARBULLETIN.COM The entire Pulotu family, including Sione Tuione Pulotu Sr., fourth from right, and Mahana Pulotu, second from right, recently posed for a picture in front of Sione's canoe. The family held a week-long reunion last week, with relatives coming from as far as Atlanta and Tahiti.

Although tikis didn't exist in Tonga, Pulotu showed them to his brother Taani on a trip home and left his carving tools. Taani began imitating his work.

Pulotu sent a variety of tikis to his brother, who shared them with other Tongans, and the craft spread. "Now it's a big thing in Tonga," he said.

But the Tongans took liberties, putting Maori tongues on Tahitian tikis, mixing cultures, he said. "I was so upset about the whole thing," he said, that he put on a workshop in Tonga to correct the error, but few came.

Pulotu, however, ensures cultural authenticity in his work. He thoroughly researched the different island groups' canoes before he built any.

"I was so shocked there was so much material available on the Tongan canoe, and yet there was nothing available and nobody was still around," he said.

He built a 105-foot double-hulled voyaging canoe in Tonga three years ago, spending a year and a half in Tonga away from his family.

Meanwhile, Mahana cared for the family alone.

Pulotu acknowledges his wife's support. He often works from early in the morning until late at night. "Sometimes she said 'why don't you sleep in the shop,' but she actually supports me in what I'm doing."

Mahana said, "My deal is: Leave heirlooms for the grandchildren -- tikis, bowls."

Puaita's Kona home is already filled with pieces from his father. As a manager of the ocean recreation department of the Hualalai Resort on the Big Island, he has gotten the hotel to commission his father to carve 18 paddles in different Polynesian styles.

Puaita, who wore a whale-bone aumakua (ancestral spirit) carved by his father, said he has never had any lessons from his father, but once carved a pahu (drum) alongside his father.

"When we were young, he was old-style, you watch and learn from a distance, Polynesian-style," he said.

"I would tell him teach your kids how to carve," Mahana said. "Maybe they were too intimidated. He'd criticize them and they were tender-hearted."

Puaita was recognized as a fine artist in school, Mahana said, while Johnny did grand works of art like his father.

"Dad's not a good teacher," Johnny said. "He'd say, 'There's the wood, chain saw, chisel. Go.' It was hard. ... He expects you to just pick up things."

He said his father has since mellowed.

Pulotu tells a different story, however. While he said he has helped many people learn to carve, his sons were too busy with sports to learn the craft. Johnny was an all-star offensive tackle for Kahuku, played for BYU in Provo, Utah, was a state wrestling champion and represented the United States at the world championships in sumo.

When Johnny took up art in college, he excelled in sculpture. He wanted to major in art and minor in math, but reversed the two when he learned there were few teaching jobs in art. He now uses art in teaching math.

"My favorite part of math is graphing, when both worlds -- math and art -- come together," he said.

His sister, Sesika, 29, complained: "I didn't get any of the artistic talent, unless you count cake-decorating. I was gypped."

And, as a girl, she didn't learn carving, traditionally for men in Tonga. Still, she received larger lessons.

"We lived very simply growing up," said Sesika, who lives in Atlanta with her husband and two children.

"People find it interesting we didn't have hot water," she said. The family took cold baths outside, filling buckets with water from a pump. "It wasn't a necessity. We were happy the way it was, so why change it?"

They ate breadfruit, tapioca, taro and other fruits they grew.

Though separated by thousands of miles, the entire family came together last week for a week-long reunion of 134 relatives, from as far as Atlanta and Tahiti. They held nightly feasts of Hawaiian, Tongan and Tahitian food on the family's sprawling Laie compound, where several tents were set up for the children, an outdoor shower, portable potty, and two huge canopies with a stage for talent shows.

The French- and Tahitian-speaking cousins shared laughter trying to communicate with their English-speaking cousins.

When they part, they will be crying and hanging on to each other, Mahana said.

"For me it's a warm feeling," she said of seeing her family members enjoy each other's company.

Mahana is happy to see her family prosper, not just for themselves, but "because they can contribute so much to the community."