By Bob Krauss
Advertiser Columnist

They are laying Abe Piianaia to rest today. All the accolades written about him since he died are true:

He was a pioneer of Hawaiian studies, teenage castaway, master mariner, police detective, Living Treasure and more.

There's something else that hasn't been mentioned. Abe was one of the last Hawaiian orators. Not a chanter, an orator. Hawaiian oratory is an art that should be revived, as the hula has been.

They say Sir Peter Buck, Te Rangi Hiroa, legendary director of the Bishop Museum, was a master orator. I'd have stacked Abe up against him any day because I heard Abe perform. It made me understand the levers of power in old Hawai'i.

It was when we were bunkmates on board Hokule'a in the Society Islands in 1985. Abe was 70 then, eight years older than I and in better shape. When he was sleeping, I had to be on deck and vice versa. I got really tired. He was as good as new.

A Tahitian cultural group invited the crew of Hokule'a to stay in their miniature Polynesian Cultural Center on Moorea: thatched Tahitian fales, meeting house, imu pit and kava ceremonial hall in a grassy clearing under palm trees.

We sailed over there and were met by a wiry little fellow in a malo, said to be the best orator on Moorea. He was a Christian minister so he had a lot of practice. He got up and delivered a fiery oration in Tahitian. Then Abe went to the front and answered him right back in Hawaiian.

I couldn't understand a word but I knew what was going on. It was a duel of champions. Kenneth Emory, the pioneer anthropologist, had told me about Polynesian oratory. This was the first time I'd heard the real thing.

Those Tahitians were entranced. You know how other Polynesians accuse Hawaiians of having lost their culture? Well, as a Christian minister, the Tahitian could only invoke Jehovah. When Abe rolled out Ku, Lono, Kane and Kaneloa, the mouths of the Tahitians dropped open.

This was followed by a kava ceremony, the Polynesian form of diplomacy, because the Tahitians wanted to build a voyaging canoe and were eager to get started. But they were starry-eyed with romantic notions. Abe handled it perfectly.

First he introduced Mau Piailug, master navigator, who had sailed by the stars all his life. Then Nainoa Thompson, eight years of training. Next came Gordon Piianaia, Abe's son, captain on the voyage, who holds a master's license for any size ship in the world.

In this diplomatic way, Abe explained to the Tahitians how much they had to learn. I'm not sure they understood but they called him Papa, the term of endearment for an old man. Abe said, "I'd better not tell my wife about my children in Tahiti."

That night, he was the first one in the crew to walk on fire in the purification ceremony. I'd have never tried it if he'd been afraid.

Reach Bob Krauss at 525-8073.