Posted on: Sunday, October 3, 2004
Auntie Pua Hopkins inspired so many of us
By Ka'ohua Lucas
A fine mist showered the kou tree outside as I thumbed through the yellowed pages.
Glued to the top sheet was a discolored, tangerine Post-it note.
Scrawled in her own handwriting were the words: "Ka'ohua. See if this helps refine your topic — call me if you need help."
The world "help" was underlined. She signed it "P."
I had been struggling for several weeks, trying to narrow my master's thesis topic. Needing help in structuring my thoughts, I dialed "P" — Auntie Pua Hopkins' number.
"Let me give this some thought," she said. "And I'll get back to you."
Within a couple of days, Auntie Pua had fleshed out a few ideas and handed me a three-page paper.
"What's this?" I asked, surprised.
"Before you can begin writing about Hawaiian values and how they can be incorporated into a classroom," she said, "you must first understand the Hawaiian thought process."
I hurried home with the document, propped up my feet and began reading.
She discussed mana and how Hawaiians believe that all things possess a spiritual life force, important for us as Hawaiians to understand and malama, or care, for all living and nonliving things.
Not until we understand and act upon this belief will we achieve a state of pono, or righteousness.
Inspired, I began the task of structuring my graduate thesis plan.
Auntie Pua was my calabash aunt, but I considered her 'ohana.
She was one of my teachers.
She was my mentor.
She believed in me.
Less than a month ago, Auntie Pua died at age 65. She not only touched my life, but others' as well.
A professor of Hawaiian language before she retired, she inspired hundreds of Native Hawaiian students to explore their roots. She was an advocate of native rights and higher education for Native Hawaiian students. She was a distinguished speaker and conducted many cross-cultural workshops locally and at the national level.
"I wonder how someone who is such a tranquil and centered presence can be as fierce an advocate as she is for her cultural heritage and for native peoples throughout America," a Mainland colleague once said.
Her life accomplishments were unquestionably impressive; she was bright, articulate, self-assured, humorous and extremely independent. Nothing seemed to faze her.
While teaching, Auntie Pua every weekday boarded the bus in Ka'a'awa, bound for the University of Hawai'i-Manoa campus.
One day, my husband offered to drive her there. When 7:30 a.m. rolled around, she telephoned my mom, a neighbor, to see if he had left.
"I was wondering if your son-in-law is on his way to pick me up," she asked.
"What? I didn't realize he was going to do that," my mom said. "It must have slipped his mind, because he left over an hour ago."
Auntie Pua just chuckled and said, "Oh, that's so typical of him."
And she hopped on the next bus headed to the university.
She was an incredible seamstress and would produce caftans for my mom, embroidered with her own original work. And 21 years ago, Auntie Pua offered to design and sew a stocking for my daughter's first Christmas. We still have the quilted tapa stocking with miniature angels tacked to the front of it. It hangs from a hook every Christmas season.
A wedding photograph of Auntie Pua and Uncle Charlie remains on my mom's refrigerator. My dad and mom were their best man and matron of honor at that celebration.
As I slip the pages with the Post-it note into the pocket of a frayed folio, I noticed the fine mist has turned into a gentle rain.
An orange-breasted bird abandons the kou tree, seeking a more protective shelter.
I am reminded of Hawaiian scholar Mary Kawena Pukui's proverb: "Kulu ka waimaka, uwe ka 'opua" — "The tears fall; the clouds weep."
A Hawaiian blessing on all those whose lives were touched by Auntie Pua.
Reach Ka'ohua Lucas at Family Matters, 'Ohana section, The Advertiser, P.O. Box 3110, Honolulu, HI 96802; fax 525-8055; or at ohana@honoluluadvertiser.com.
