Posted on: Friday, October 11, 2002
HAWAIIAN STYLE
For author Trask, the land is a living metaphor
Call it poetic "justice." Literally.
Or "classic Haunani."
Haunani-Kay Trask refers to her newest book of poetry, "Night Is a Sharkskin Drum," simply as "consciously indigenous," telling the story of her people through the elements they all know the best.
It is a celebration of the land and the sea, the ancestors and their gods, the things they love — and, in many cases, lost.
The eloquent poetic sharing is set against a background of the expected rage: poetic diatribes against the prostitution of her people, culture, land and language — mana and mana'o — but in a form, this time, that is as rhythmic and regal as hula, without the music. Still, no matter what your political proclivities may be, it makes your soul dance, albeit on a deeper, more profound level.
And, it makes you think.
Her weapon, as always, is her words — eloquent words, English words.
"I have never been able to write poetry outside Hawai'i!" said the author, who is a well-known Hawaiian activist and University of Hawai'i professor of Hawaiian studies. "I tried — I have no inspiration!"
"There are a lot of 'city writers' in San Francisco: They write about their home. I can't. I write about my land. (Newcomers often) don't get it," she said, admitting that the message "between the lines" is much like the kaona, hidden meanings and double-entendres, in hula.
In much of her writings, she explains those intricacies in footnotes and annotations for which, she said, she has been criticized. "(But) it gives (readers) a foot up," she said, especially with writings of other mindsets and other times.
Otherwise, subtleties drop out. "My interest is to help (readers) understand. Writers (after all) want to be read," she said. "And, human beings can only understand (each other) if they can communicate."
For this book, metaphor to the land is important.
"There is so great a wealth of Hawaiian sensitivity. For me, it offers a tremendous resource, cultural tradition to call upon. The land is a living metaphor," Trask said, whether it be Pele and Hina, goddesses of the volcano and moon, the ocean, the mountains, flowers, the clouds. Or, the word "pono."
"Hawaiians not only think in those (metaphoric) terms, but it is a part of their inheritance they understand," she said. "When Hawaiians talk to one another, they talk with these (comparisons) — of truth as the sea, love as the giving of a lei, of annexation as the letting of blood.
Poetry, of course, goes hand in hand with this tradition: "Poetry is profoundly dependent on metaphor."
She remembers fondly, in the beginnings of her activism, being referred to by the kupuna as a very young Pele by fellow members of the Protect Kaho'olawe 'Ohana, so young and fiery her devotion, even early in her activism.
It is common in the culture for people's personality to be spoken of in terms of nature: thunder, the various rains, from light mist to gales; lightning, eruptions, the moon or the shark god.
Also in the Hawaiian milieu, there was little concept — perhaps other than romantic annulments or relocation to a strange city — of loneliness: "That man can be a lonely being is disproven by Hawaiian culture. If you believe the land is filled with divinity, if you believe your ancestors are with you — being one with the mountains, ocean, the moon — you are not alone."
One honor that brings tears to her eyes is the memory of the Hilo resident, with long roots in Kane'ohe, at a poetry reading of Trask's lamentation of the destruction of what is also Trask's hometown. "I LOVE Kane'ohe," said that lady, through tears, "but cannot afford to live there."
"What she expressed was so excruciatingly sad," said Trask. "And, I realized the great power of poetry."
It is the one thing, she said, that can overcome barriers that prevent us from communicating."
So poetic.
So Haunani.
