What is divisive about the truth?

On Nov. 14, makua wahine (mom) and I had the pleasure of seeing Hawaiian

minstrel extraordinaire Eddie Kamae and the Sons of Hawai’i who performed prior

to a free viewing of his latest documentary on the 40-year history of the Sons.

Many halaus to the fabulous theater at Kaua’i Community College where they are

hosting an outer-island version of the Hawai’i International Film

Festival.

The film documented a musical branch of the Hawaiian cultural

renaissance, which began in the early 1960s. Like the cultural revolution in

the states, where I was transplanted at the time, musicians and singers led the

way, as the flyer for the movie described: “Feelings that were yearning to be

expressed throughout the Hawaiian chain.”

What is artistically amazing

about the Sons is that the early group included not only famous Eddie Kamae,

but Gabby Pahinui, the matchless Hawaiian musical giant, whose talents were

only to be outdone by the beauty of these islands, the kanaka maoli and their

culture. Ironically, Gabby-older and more accomplished, who was a mainstay of

“old” Waikiki in it’s so-called heyday of sorts during the ’30s and ’40s, was

ill and morose to a large degree. Eddie and others of the era express that

Gabby felt alienated from the Hawaiian music scene. Meeting and working with

Eddie, Gabby found a reborn energy that propelled him in search of a more

“real” Hawaiian music. Thus the first couple of Sons albums with Gabby at the

helm are gems.

The film went on to document further the adventures of the

group as first Gabby passed on, then others. From there, the theme of Eddie

Kamae virtuoso transformed to one of a leader in restoring what could be

salvaged from the wreckage of suppressed Hawaiian culture. Under the guidance

of M. Kawena Pukui, Eddie traveled the backways and country roads of the

islands, searching for clues to our musical past. His search produced creations

of our kanaka maoli past about as far back as the monarchy, and he has

faithfully kept all of it alive. He started making documentaries that for

lovers of Hawai’i and its culture, plucked at the heartstrings in varied tones,

octaves and dimension.

At the theater I saw more haole than kanaka maoli –

at least 80-20 split. There were also many locals; descendants of plantation

workers. Hawaiian music afficionados and musicians were sprinkled throughout.

Many of us were teary, and tissue was needed.

What he also touched in me

was the feeling that I believe only kanaka maoli are privileged to feel to the

full: The vibrant pride, passion, glory and sorrow that are all wrapped up in

being Hawaiian – yesterday and today. I’m in no way inferring that kanaka’e

(other races) cannot empathize and share everything with us if they want, and

they do; it’s the Hawaiian way and we are all the better for it.

I want to

share that my musically inspired emotions were fringed with the chord of

frustration; that Hawaiians are recognized for talent we have had to develop on

the outskirts of town. From the back yards of garbage men in Waimanalo. Taxi

drivers and menial task laborers were the resource pool of our genius in those

statehood days after territorialism. We spoke pidgin-Americanism, and certainly

not of our noble, wise ancestors who were as a group demeaned and swept aside

by “real” society – the movers and shakers. Hui Aloha Aina loyalists bit the

dust and so would we. Gabby sang words in intonations of a primordial language

and love that can only be sung from the heart because the mind was burdened. If

he had traveled to the south U.S. he’d seen the resemblance.

This is our

homeland. How many locals and haole who share enthusiasm for our culture today

know the truth that “reality” shouldn’t be this way here and exactly why? Not

many. What we’ve been given in the media and history books is askew. Even

Hawaiians today along with the rest don’t know what to believe unless they take

the time to really find out. What I want to see are kanaka maoli and kanaka’e

who recognize the true implications of the our national, racial, political and

cultural situation. What is divisive, partisan or biased about the truth?

I

left my birthright behind in the ’60s when it was taught, if only through

omission, that I didn’t have one. Upon returning from 25 years stateside, I’ve

realized that indeed it is here all along and there are apparent issues that

really need clearing up big time.

Mahalo akua. I recognize it all as the

many aspects of the glory of being a son of Hawai’i.

Michael

Locey

Anahola