MERRIE MONARCH 2005 ONLINE DIARY • DAY TWO
Water, water everywhere

By Wanda Adams
Assistant Features Editor

HILO, Hawai'i — Kilihune. Ua 'awa. Ua hoele'ele. Ua loku. Ua hikiki'i.

They are all terms for rain — a fine light rain, a chilly rain, a heavy downpour, a slanting rain — and those gathered in Hilo for the Merrie Monarch festival this week have seen them all, over the course of a single morning.

Followed by — right this minute but don't look up, because it might go away — a patch of blue and a bit of bright sunshine.

Perhaps the clearing is in honor of the halau that are making ceremonial visits to sites important to the songs they'll be performing or to sacred sites of the Big Island today. Several, including Robert Cazimero's Halau Na Kamalei, are scheduled to visit Halema'uma'u, the Kilauea caldera. Sonny Ching's Halau Na Mamo O Pu'uanahulu headed for Kohala to pay tribute to an area dear to the family of Miss Aloha Hula candidate Maile Francisco.

Francisco may be the person in Hilo this week with the most reason to be stressed to the screaming point. On Thursday evening, she will attempt to become the third Miss Aloha Hula winner in a row from her halau. But in rehearsal this noon-time, she appeared to be focused on only one thing: interpreting the words of the songs she is performing with her whole heart, mind and na'au — the spiritual center Hawaiians locate in the belly. When she completed her first run-through on stage of her 'auana number, a medley of Kohala songs, the tears were falling as hard as the rain outside.

Hula sisters Jennifer Oyama (Miss Aloha Hula 2003) and Natasha Akau (Miss Aloha Hula 2004), who have been as important as Ching in preparing their friend, offering her pointers, critiquing every aspect of her performance and adornments, were bright-eyed. Her parents, Damien and Kecano Francisco, watched as tears poured unheeding down their cheeks. Elder brother Kapua wrapped his arms around halau alaka'i (assistant) Lopaka Igarta-DeVera, and frankly sobbed.

And Ching, who is usually stone-faced and often sharp-tongued during rehearsals, was actually singing with the music, his eyes closed and his head thrown back — transported.

"I am happy," he said later, and these simple words mean a lot at this late date. After practice, he shared his pleasure with the halau as they queued up for plate lunches to be eaten on the bus ride to Kohala. "I must say I was very pleased with our rehearsal," he said. And, breaking into a laugh, "First time I never slap the stage!" (He has a habit of reclining on the steps leading up to the stage, his eyes at the dancer's foot height, and to bang on the stage to draw attention.) But he quickly added. "Please don't be complacent. It can always be improved."

Rehearsals last night and this morning were full of such advice from elders to students, and of moments that will probably prove as memorable in their way as the actual performance.

Dancer Robert Ka'upu, a student of Johnny Lum Ho, is helping to prepare Miss Aloha Hula candidate Rashanti Ka'awaloa for Kelena Vasconcellos' Halau O Ke 'Anuenue. As she danced a song in praise of a beloved beach retreat, "Mahai'ula," he coached from afar with his whole body, miming regally thrown-back shoulders, demure downward glances, mincing steps and fetching eye flashes.

Later, Ka'upu erased these delicate images in his own rehearsal of a bound-to-be-crowd-pleaser, a vigorous hula kane dedicated to the god Lono about — guess what? — thundering rains. He's performing the solo dance tonight as part of the annual free ho'ike. Ho is judging this year, so he is presenting his Halau Ka Ua Kani Lehua and their sister halau from Yokohama, Japan, in exhibition only.

And what an exhibition! Besides Ka'upu's fast-paced stomping, slapping number, Ho has choreographed a piece with so many bells and whistles that the dancers collapsed into wet puddles afterward — of sweat, not rain. Ho has combined hula with Tahitian in a medley that starts slowly and gracefully and ends in a hip-swivelling frenzy with two different halau forming concentric circles around the stage and swaying in different rhythms. Too bad this isn't televised. This is the thing about the Ho'ike: It isn't about competition, and doesn't have to operate by any rules. That artificial — and physical — barrier created by the line of seven judges seated up front — does not exist. And the halau reach right out into the crowd and tear their hearts out. This year, as last, there are a pair of aunties — gorgeous elders with silver hair loaded down with flowers and the erect carriage and well-oiled hips of people who have been dancing hula all their lives — who will have the house shrieking as they perform a frankly lascivious hula ("Oh, you sweetie...") , peering out from under their eyelashes and all but shrugging, as if to say, "What can you do?" Nothing but let the hula take you away, Auntie.

Observations:

• If I've seen a trend in choreography this week, it's a tendency to weave a bit of hula noho (seated hula) into songs. Maui's Halau Na Lei Kaumaka O Uka, for example, begins its group kahiko number with the dancers seated in three groups — in two lines ranged down the ramps at the stage corners, and one group at the center staircase. Hokulani De Rego's 'auana selection has one dancer ending the song seated on the central staircase and dancing from there. (By the way, watch for this one: The costumes are delicious!)

In case you're wondering, the seven judges are: Kamehemeha Schools' Cy Bridges, UH hula professor Victoria Holt-Takamine and na kumu hula Ed Collier (taking a break from performing), Frank Kawaikapuokalani Hewitt, Nalani Kanaka'ole, Johnny Lum Ho and Alicia Smith.

• Here's a tip you won't believe: It's actually not a bad idea to purchase lei at the airport in Hilo. Not only is there a great variety of interesting lei, including many lei wili (woven lei), lei po'o (head lei) and even fresh hairpieces, but they aren't priced out of line. I bought a lei po'o of red and gold lehua, liko lehua and fern for $18 — and saw the same thing at the Merrie Monarch craft fair at the Ahfook-Chinen Civic Center for $20.

• And guess what? It's started raining again.

Thursday: It's official. The Merrie Monarch hula competition clock is ticking. And I'll share a bit with you about an unusual song selection for group hula.