Chiefess-sized 'uha handy for hula
By Ka'ohua Lucas
"So what?" my boss teased. "You and Tania used to look like that?"
Tania and I and the rest of our project team were on Kaua'i facilitating a curriculum workshop on Hawaiian fishponds.
Attracted to the drumming of the toere, a Tahitian musical instrument, we had gathered at the hotel's pool lanai to enjoy the entertainment.
Young women dancers were dressed in sunny pareau, revealing brown, lean 'uha (thighs).
Their hips were shimmying in sync to the beat of the drums.
"Eh, I may not look like that anymore, but I can still ami (a hula step with hip revolutions)," I said, doing a few in place.
"Come on, we go, tita," Tania urged. "I ready to show them what I get."
It wasn't too long ago that I remember donning a Tahitian skirt and bandanna top.
OK, maybe it was 25 years ago. A group of us had been hired to perform in a Polynesian show in Japan. We were just out of high school, so naturally many of the dancers were wafer thin.
But no matter how much hula or Tahitian I danced, or how many laps I swam or ran, my 'uha were always quite generous.
"Eh, you know I used to be a size 6," Tania said. "Then, after I had kids, I wen' blossom."
Before European contact, our kupuna were exceptionally healthy.
Early writings portrayed the maka'ainana (commoner) as "well-developed with splendidly shaped torsos and fine muscular limbs of excellent proportions" averaging over 5 feet 10 inches tall.
They were healthy, hardy and remarkably free from disease.
"Mature chiefs often weighed as much as 300 pounds. The chiefesses were looked upon with great favor if they exceeded their chiefs in weight," Donald Kilolani Mitchell wrote in "Resource Units in Hawaiian Culture." "The Hawaiian word momona means both corpulent and sweet."
I am proud to say that I have pretty much retained the physique of a mo'i wahine (chiefess). Undoubtedly, these 'uha of mine lend a kind of regal appeal.
They also prove to be quite functional.
Both sons — individually, of course — can sit quite comfortably on my lap without falling off.
If our van door doesn't close snugly, I can do a quick hip thrust to shut it tightly.
Sometimes my 12-year-old plants himself in front of the kitchen counter. After repeatedly asking him to move, a quick hip chuck sends him flying to the other side of the room.
I'm telling you, these 'uha come in handy.
As Tania and I made our way back to the room, we practiced our ami down the hallway.
A maintenance worker spied us.
"Eh, sistah, you folks should be in the show," he laughed.
See?
We still get 'um.
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.
