FAMILY MATTERS
Some things change in canoe paddling, but celebrations stay same
By Ka'ohua Lucas
"Look at all these people," my husband lamented, setting down the Igloo cooler.
We had arrived at the canoe regatta just after 7 a.m.
Throngs of paddlers and their families had already arrived. Many were prepared for the long day ahead. Some toted coolers. Others were marking their turf, pounding tent stakes into the ground. A few wheeled Weber grills in search of a shady spot.
My husband found a tree, unfolded the utility blanket and promptly sprawled out on the mat.
"Whew! That was strenuous," he said. "I think it's about time for a morning nap."
As I neatly stacked the food in one place, our 13-year-old wandered off in search of his paddling buddies. The 9-year-old squeezed into his surf shirt and dove into the ocean to wrestle with a group of boys. My 20-year-old daughter and I surveyed the flurry of activity.
It was amazing to see so many people at 7 a.m. on a Sunday.
Canoe racing has always been an ancient Hawaiian sport. The strongest paddlers would compete against one another. Bets were placed, and the competitors would head out to sea to begin the race.
"If they touched the beach at the same time, it was a dead heat; but if a canoe reached the shore first, it was the victor," writes Hawaiian historian David Malo. "And great would be the exultation of the men who won, and the sorrow of those who lost their property."
Today, canoe racing has become a multigenerational sport. Families turn out in droves to compete. It's not only the competition that keeps families returning to paddling each season but the fellowship.
After my husband awoke and ambled off to join our youngest son in the water, I noticed the early-morning crowd had grown. People now spilled out onto the shoreline in anticipation of the first race. Stragglers were icing down the contents of their coolers in preparation for the afternoon festivities.
The one thing that hasn't changed at all since the first race in 1952 are the pa'ina (parties) that occur after the regatta.
A friend of mine said her hui from Moloka'i chartered a plane for the state championships.
"But I nevah like make humbug, so I going back home with the rest of the gang this evening," Penny said.
"And what? You're not going to stay and party?" I asked.
"No," she said. "But before I left home, I loaded up my cooler with beer and told my son to put ice in it before he picks me up at the airport. And I said that I know how many beers get in the cooler so don't try to sneak any."
The ingredients for paddling are quite simple — one part competition, one part socialization and three parts celebration.
Eh, hope you had a nice cold one for me, Sistah Penny!
Reach Ka'ohua Lucas at Family Matters, 'Ohana section, The Advertiser, P.O. Box 3110, Honolulu, HI 96802; fax 525-8055; or ohana@honoluluadvertiser.com.
