COURTESY KAMEHAMEHA SCHOOLS

The Kihapu: Tale
of a cunning pup

In the days when Kiha was chief of Waipi'o, life in that valley was made miserable by the sounding of the menehune pu. Above the cliff-walled valley was menehune land, where the little people lived with small concern for the Hawaiians below. Our night was day for them and it was then they blew upon their pu, or conch-shell trumpet. Down into the valley came the clear sound of the pu, to be tossed back and forth by echoing cliffs till all Waipi'o was filled with sound. Dogs woke and barked, babies cried and there was little sleep to be had the whole night through.

Hawaiian Folklore Beginning today and continuing every Monday this fall, the Star-Bulletin will feature a selection from the works of Mary Kawena Puku'i and Caroline Curtis, courtesy of the Kamehameha Schools. These stories are presented through the Newspapers in Education Program, which promotes use of newspapers to promote literacy.

Kiha, the chief, offered a reward to any man who would steal the pu and bring it to him. But no tall Hawaiian could go unnoticed into menehune land. Such an attempt was useless!

After a night of noise and sleeplessness, two guards appeared before Kiha. "O Heavenly One," they said, "come out and see our prisoners."

Angrily the chief stumbled to the heiau. He was in no mood to listen patiently. The guards led before him an old man with arms tightly bound. Close behind the man followed a large yellow dog.

"Speak!" the chief commanded his guards.

"Someone was digging in your 'awa patch," said a guard. "For days we have seen loose earth where the 'awa roots were pulled. Last night we hid and watched. We saw this dog dig up your 'awa and walk away carrying the good roots in his mouth. We followed it to the mountain home of this old man. He has trained the beast to steal our good chief's 'awa."

"Let them die, both dog and man," said the chief impatiently.

"O Heavenly One, will you not hear the old man?" The voice of the kahuna was quiet, but Kiha knew his wisdom and his power.

"Very well," he answered. "Speak, old man."

"O Heavenly One!" The old man's voice was trembling. "I did not know my dog took 'awa from your garden. He did not know. I pray you spare my dog. He meant no wrong."

"You pray for his life and not your own?" Kiha asked.

"He is my child and I am old," the man replied. "My wife and I were childless. We found a pup, a little yellow pup with friendly, playful ways. We fed and cared for him. He became a son to us. Now we are old; he cares for us as a loving son cares for old parents."

The man's eyes shone with love and his voice was stronger. "He saw I wanted 'awa and brought it to me. I thought he brought wild roots from the forest. O Heavenly One, I am sure the dog did not know the 'awa patch was yours."

"I have listened to your words," Kiha said. "You had no right to steal my 'awa. You both shall die!"

But the kahuna had been looking keenly at the dog. "This is no common beast. I see great wisdom in his eyes. Do him no harm."

For the first time the chief looked carefully at the dog. The animal's eyes looked at him fearlessly and, yes, they were wise eyes! A sudden thought came to Kiha. "Do you think," he asked the old man, "that your dog could get something for me? Each night the menehune blow their conch-shell trumpet. There is no sleep for me! No sleep for all Waipi'o! Do you think your dog can get that pu?"

The old man turned to the dog. "Do you think you can get the pu?" The dog gave his master a quick look of understanding and wagged his tail. "He will try," the man said simply.

"Take the man to the prison house," Kiha commanded, "but set free the dog. If the animal brings the pu, his master also shall be free."

Puapua, the yellow dog, licked his master's hand as if to say, "I shall free you," swam the Waipi'o River and disappeared up the trail.

As he climbed, he changed his form and became smaller. When he trotted into the menehune village he was just such a puppy as he had been when his master first found him. With a coconut husk in his mouth he frolicked up to the first menehune he met, asking him to play.

The menehune are friendly, and in a short time several were playing with the cunning pup, chasing him, running and inviting him to chase. Soon all the villagers were joining the fun. Back and forth through the village darted the pup, running swiftly and now and then stopping to peek into a house. At last he found what he was looking for -- the pu, hanging by a cord not far from the door of a dark house.

Still Puapua played, the most frolicsome little pup the menehune had ever seen. They loved his puppy ways and hoped to keep him. When, tired out, the little men sank down to sleep, the puppy too lay down, rested his head on his paws and slept -- or seemed to sleep.

The village was very quiet. There was no sound except the soft breathing of the little men. Puapua opened his eyes and stretched his legs. Slowly he rose and looked about, then quietly made his way to the house where he had seen the pu.

It was a big yellow dog who loosened the conch-shell trumpet, got it firmly in his mouth and stole out of the village onto the trail. Then he ran! But, as he ran swiftly, the wind blew through the conch with a low whistling. That sound woke the menehune. Their pu! Their pu was gone! In a moment they were following the sound.

Puapua heard them coming and took a short cut. The shell struck a rock and gave forth a resounding blast. A bit had been broken off, but the dog did not stop. His pursuers were close now. He reached the river, leaped in and swam across.

But the menehune stopped. Dawn was close. Before daylight every menehune must be at home. Sadly they returned without their pu.

Kiha and the kahuna had been waiting. They heard faintly the blast from the pu as it struck the rock. What did that mean? Suddenly, right before them, the big dog scrambled from the river and dropped the pu at Kiha's feet. Eagerly the chief picked it up. He had it! No more sleepless nights!

"Take the ropes from the prisoner," he commanded. "Set him free."

"Old man," he said when the prisoner came before him, "your dog has done great service. The corner of my 'awa patch where he dug, that shall be yours as long as you live. The dog shall dig from that corner all the 'awa that his master needs. May you live long -- you and your wife and dog."

Kiha kept the pu. With it he sent messages or summoned workers. From that time it bore his name -- the Kihapu. Next time you go to Bishop Museum, look at the conch-shell trumpets in Hawaiian Hall. You'll see where a bit has been broken from one of them. Some say that is the Kihapu.