Ka Wai Ola - Office of Hawaiian Affairs, Volume 40, Number 11, 1 Nowemapa 2023 — Aloha mai kākou, [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]
Aloha mai kākou,
'OLELO A KA POUHANA V ^ MESSAGE FROM THE CEO *
DISEASE, DISP0SSESSI0N, ANŪ 0VERTHR0W: A CASE F0R THREE MEMORIALS
Hawaiians are born historians. Before our language was written, we invested incredible effort to memorize and transmit our mo'olelo through oli. We revere the past because it holds the wisdom of our ancestors. Like oli, memorials are vehicles to impart historical knowledge. In Honolulu there are many: the statue of Queen Lili'uokalani ma kai of the capitol; Father Damien stands ma uka of the building; 'Ewa of the rotunda are Korean and Vietnam War memorials. These figures and events left immeasurable marks on Hawai'i and deserve to be recalled at the nexus of our civic life. Yet more space remains on the canvas. Waves of pestilence wiped out over 90% of the native population between Cook's arrival and the close of the 19th century. However, there is no memorial to the countless souls lost to foreign diseases. Our traditional ahupua'a land tenure system was eradicated by the Māhele. However, there is no memorial to the terrible dispossession of the maka'āinana. The armed overthrow of 1893 ended the Hawaiian monarchy. However, there is no memorial to our kingdom's stolen sovereignty. These three events are foundational to our present reality. Eaeh begat the next. Mass death left aina fallow and vulnerable to predation. Loss of land paved the way for political disenfranchisement and then outright conquest. There is more that should be etched into the popular narrative, but the absence of these monumental catastrophes in the puhlie space must be rectified. They eall out for remembrance. We need memory to build our lāhui. Hawaiians are bound by our shared history, and our achievements shine brighter against the darkness of our traumas. It is critically important to enshrine this history now when 'Ōiwi are increasingly living in
exile. Imagine such memorials as places of pilgrimage for the diaspora, touchstones of education that recommit our people, near and far, to the struggle for justice. We need memory to build bridges across borders. No matter your opinion of tourism, Hawai'i is a destination, and the impact of visitors immense. Many outsiders only experience Hawai'i on vacation. How ean we expect malihini to learn if we do not teach? How ean we expect them to respect us if they do not know us? Imagine a day when tourists' itineraries include truthful commemoration of these momentous tragedies. We need memory to build unity. Hawai'i is diverse, just as it was during the time of our multi-ethnic kingdom. We ean only advance Native Hawaiians, and solve the deep crises facing our islands, together. How ean we move forward unified if
we do not start on the same page? When I attended public school
in the 1960s, my curriculum made no mention of lost Hawaiian lives, land, and liberty. I imagine my mo'opuna visiting memorials to these events with their non-Hawaiian classmates, and that vision gives me hope. Justice for Hawaiians requires understanding of our eolleetive kuleana - kama'āina, oiwi, and malihini alike. "I ka wā ma mua, i ka wā ma hope," rings a storied olelo no'eau. In the future is the past. To build a flourishing Hawai'i tomorrow, we
must account fully for the calamities of yesterday. ■ Colin Kippen Ka Pouhana Kūikawā | lnterim Chief Executive Officer