[intro music plays] HIKI NŌ, Hawai‘i's new wave of storytellers.

[intro music continues] [sound of ocean waves] Aloha and welcome to this week's episode of HIKI NŌ, Hawai‘i's new wave of storytellers.

My name is Jade Onaka, and I'm a senior at Konawaena High School on Hawai‘i Island.

It's an honor to host you this evening coming from the Kona side of the island.

Tonight's episode will feature stories of hometown pride, legacy, and ‘ohana.

We'll get to know the 100 year history behind my school, Konawaena High School, in a story shot, produced and edited by my classmates.

Then students from Honaka‘a High and Intermediate School on Hawai‘i Island will share a unique how-to video about safe driving in their hometown, population 2,000.

From the island of Kaua‘i, a student from Kapa‘a High School will share her student reflection on the strong bonds of sisterhood.

Next from the HIKI NŌ archives, Kalama Intermediate School students from Maui will be sharing their profile of a master of kapa making.

From H.P.

Baldwin High School on Maui, a student will share her thoughtful visual essay of what home means to her.

And from the students of Hawai‘i Preparatory Academy in Kamuela on Hawai‘i Island, we'll learn about a boulder that has legendary Hawaiian history of its own in another HIKI NŌ archive story.

[sound of an ocean wave] But first, it's my pleasure to share with you some of my own work.

I'm going to tell you about a journey that I took last fall to learn more about my family's history and our connections to the ‘āina.

I've always had an interest in advocacy for indigenous communities.

I am particularly focused on food sovereignty here in my hometown of Kona.

I believe we can and will create a local food system that can sustain all of our people.

In 2020, I joined Teach for America's Hawai‘i's youth council.

We/d come together and discuss what's going on in our schools, and we’d also work on projects created by Teach for America.

That led to an invitation for me to speak on an indigenous youth council panel, where I had the privilege to speak to other indigenous students about how COVID affected our communities.

Little did I know that in the audience that day, there was a storyteller.

His name was Joel Serin-Christ, and he works for Teach for America's online magazine.

I didn't know that this would start a year-long project working with him to create a short animated film about food sustainability.

This video to me represents nourishment.

It took many hours, days and months of research, interviews and energy to share this message of food sustainability.

This video was also nourishing for me.

It gave me the opportunity to dig deeper into my culture and connect with the elders in my community, and to really gain an understanding of who I was.

I’ve changed so much since the beginning of this project.

I've learned that with the art of patience and gratitude.

Within this journey, I learned all the kinds of impact that I can make.

I hope that this video is nourishment for the Hawaiian culture.

My dad has always said that being Hawaiian is much bigger than ethnicity, but is the way that you carry yourself and do all things with aloha and the Hawaiian values in mind.

I hope that when you watch this video, it is nourishment for you, and that this nourishes your want and need to show your result from what you took from my video into your words and your actions.

We live in such a beautiful land.

The more we help nourish the Hawaiian culture, the more we help cultivate a better future.

[sound of ocean waves] Now without further ado, here's our short animated film that was produced and published by One Day Studio at Teach for America.

[ukulele plays] My name is Jade Onaka.

I'm 16 years old and I live in Kona on the island of Hawai‘i.

Up alongside the steep driveway leading to my house we grow ti leaves, which we use to make laulau, feed cattle, and make leis.

We've grown other vegetables, too.

We even had kalo plants for summer, but they're not there anymore.

That's my fault in a way.

Let me explain.

I grew up in a family of ranchers.

My great-great-grandfather was the first person of Japanese ancestry to own a cattle ranch in Hawai‘i, maybe even in the whole U.S.

He arrived here in 1905 to earn money on the island sugar plantations.

By 1914, he purchased his first cattle to feed his growing family.

Ranching became the family business, and they got pretty good at it.

My great-grandfather was known for herding cattle into the ocean and onto boats bound for O‘ahu.

No ranchers on the mainland had to drive cattle to the surf.

I can tell you that.

On my mom's side of the family, some of my relatives are native Hawaiian.

While my dad grew up caring for cattle, my mom paddled outrigger canoes through the ocean waves.

In both of their families, food brought people together after long days in the fields or on the water.

Still, today, our family stands together in a line to make laulau from the leaves of the kalo plant.

When I was younger, my dad gave me some kalo for our garden, but I didn't tend to it.

Back then I didn't know how important kalo was to the Hawaiian people in the past, or that it might help us survive into the future.

The story goes that long ago, two gods came together: Wākea and Papahānaumoku.

They created Ho‘ohōkūkalani.

Then Wākea and Ho‘ohōkūkalani came together, and Ho‘ohōkūkalani gave birth to a stillborn child.

They buried the child next to their house.

From the grave, a kalo plant grew.

They named him Hāloanakalaukapalili.

Their second child, Hāloa, was the first kanaka, and he cared for his older brother, the kalo plant.

The kalo, in turn, provided nourishment.

It's always been like that - when we care for the ‘āina, the land, the ‘āina cares for us.

In the Hawaiian language, the words for the kalo plant are the same as those for family.

The plant that grows from a clipping is a mākua, or parent.

The offshoots are keiki, or children.

Together, the whole plant is ‘ohana, or family.

Growing up my parents taught me the value of providing for ourselves and sharing with our community.

But I learned that Hawai‘I, as a state, imports nearly 90% of its food.

Even though we live in a climate perfect for growing food year-round, changes anywhere else in the world could leave us without enough to eat.

During distance learning, I decided to learn more about how my ancestors provided for themselves with the hope that we could begin to do the same.

I called Dean Wilhelm, a kalo farmer and educator, and Natalie Kurashima, a resource manager and researcher who studies native Hawaiian agriculture.

I learned from them kalo was one of my ancestors’ main food sources, and part of a complex agricultural system that provided for Hawaiians for almost 1,000 years.

Imagine, wedge-shaped divisions of land called ahapua‘a, stretching from the mountains down to their base in the ocean.

Within each ahupua‘a, my ancestors cultivated the land based on its character: wood from the mountains, vegetables from the field, kalo from the valleys, fish from the ocean.

One ahupua‘a provided everything people living within it could need.

With this system, according to research, ancient Hawaiians produced more than 1 million tons of food each year.

That's enough to feed almost everyone who lives on the islands today.

100 years after my great-great-grandfather left work on the sugar plantations, the last one closed.

Today, it is estimated that 40% of Hawai‘i's agricultural land is lying unused.

What if we cultivated our land again?

Food is freedom.

A Hawai‘i independent of imported food is not just a dream.

People are working hard to make it a reality.

Across the islands, farmers are restoring the lo‘i.

Local communities are fighting to regain their water rights.

People are rebuilding fields and other food systems based off of ‘ike kūpuna.

Schools, including mine, are teaching that knowledge to Hawaiian students.

I grew up the daughter, grand-daughter and great-granddaughter of ranchers.

I learned how to work long days.

Now, I might put that to use in my own way.

My kuleana goes beyond learning my history and about my family's trade.

It begins with growing some kalo once again.

[sound of an ocean wave] I hope you enjoyed the film.

Now, let's take a closer look into Konawaena High School's storied history and the centennial celebration held in its honor.

[Hawaiinan chanting] Konawaena High School on the west side of Hawai‘i Island celebrated its 100-year anniversary in October.

The school was built in 1921 as a grammar school on land donated by the established coffee farm owner, the Greenwell family.

Konawaena has long been a gathering place for the Kona coffee community.

It's in the name, you know.

Konawaena, so kona, middle.

It's the pinpoint area where everyone comes together.

The community is gathered.

Students come here to learn and students come here to participate in activities.

So I feel that, um, Konawaena’s role is to be the pinpoint.

Konawaena was led by its first principal, Mr. Clyde Crawford, as well as by the recently retired principal, Mr. Shawn Suzuki.

You know, I've been a teacher here for 11 years.

I've been an administrator for, uh, principal here for 20.

Pretty much everybody, every person in Kona has some memory connection, some story to this place, to Konawaena High School.

For many families like 1982 alumna and former teacher, Mrs. Kelly Sugai-Dahl, Konawaena has been a place where generations of memories have been made.

So, uh, a few years back, we have Mrs. Suzuki, who was the, uh, music teacher, and, uh, she was so good.

She was teaching my grandkids the alma mater.

[children singing] And so I had brought my parents with me, um, and my two daughters were there, and the grandkids were there.

So we all stood up and she said, “Let's sing the alma mater together,” and the four generations sang the Alma Mater together, and my parents still knew the words.

[cheers] In 2013, Konawaena teacher, Mr. Maverick Kawamoto, discovered an old picture of a memorial on campus.

Somebody gave us a photo of the school, a memorial, and nobody knew what the memorial was for.

And then we did some research and finally found out what the memorial was for.

Turns out it was dedicated to Lewis James Mcfarlane, a coffee manager in South Kona who contributed to many projects in the community.

He was so beloved, Konawaena High School erected a memorial in his honor.

At that point, we thought that it was important to have a museum to save the history of Konawaena.

This living museum was completed in late 2014 and served as a time capsule for the centennial celebration.

Good evening.

Aloha no.

Aloha kākou.

My name is Billy V., uh, class of 1983, Konawaena High School.

Due to COVID, original in-person plans for the centennial celebration shifted to virtual events hosted by prominent alumni.

To do a virtual Centennial was, uh, it felt good to do it.

It felt different because, you know, with distancing and being safe and all of that, but at the very least to be able to have one, uh, to be able to be there with, with people to celebrate the, this incredible place, in some way, shape, or form and then have the public, have the community, have graduates be able to participate was absolutely fantastic.

Though the centennial celebration did not go as planned, it's clear Wildcat pride is alive and well at Konawaena.

Students, staff and alumni are dedicated to improving lives on and off campus and will support the community for years to come.

This is Amber Dahl from Konawaena High School for HIKI NŌ.

[children singing] [sound of an ocean wave] We take great pride in our Big Island home.

Let's learn from students that Honoka‘a High and Intermediate how to take care of our community by driving safely.

Our hometown of Honoka‘a is a small community of 2,000 people, and our roads are narrow.

Our campus at Honoka‘a High and Community School is next to one of the busiest roads, and there's always student pedestrians walking to school.

Today, we'll show you the best ways to drive safely to campus.

And these steps just might help you pass your driver's exam.

Driving behind a wheel is a big responsibility.

As a new driver, I have to be attentive to what is in my surroundings.

As you go up the road, don't forget to follow the appropriate speed limit.

As you get closer to campus, you'll reach school crosswalks.

When coming to a crosswalk, slow down and look for pedestrians.

If someone is crossing, stop and wait until the pedestrian completely crosses the road.

Use your car’s mirrors to check for any other cars or pedestrians that may be behind you.

In following these driving guidelines, you will arrive at school safely without hurting yourself, others, or damaging your vehicle.

We hope these steps will help more drivers to stay safe in our town, Honoka‘a.

This is Mark Rebellon from Honoka‘a High and Intermediate School for HIKI NŌ.

[sound of an ocean wave] Now let's travel to Kaua‘i to meet Kapa‘a High School student, Larissa MacKnight, who reflects on the strong bond she has with her sister and how it helped her through tough times.

[sound of an ocean wave] This is Larissa MacKnight, a senior at Kapa‘a High School in Kaua‘i.

I'm recording this in my bedroom on November 19, 2021.

Right before the pandemic hit, my parents sat my sister Caitlin and I down and broke the news that they were separating.

We were both shocked.

My little sister is five years younger than me, and before this, we really weren't that close.

Looking back, I don't think she was old enough to understand what was happening.

She didn't really want to talk about it, even though I did.

I had a lot to process, too, and it was hard for me to see her struggle.

However, during quarantine, with nothing else to do, we decided to learn how to skateboard.

We went to the skate park every day.

Helping each other learn how not to fall off and hurt ourselves brought us closer together.

Now, we're pretty much joined at the hip.

We go to the beach, watch movies, cook, and even share a room.

When I drive her to school, we listen to music, talk about our plans for the day, and sometimes stop for hot cocoa.

Even though we never really talk about our parents’ divorce, we are stronger together, going through this hard time as our family changed.

Now, I worry what might happen after I graduate later this year and possibly leave Hawai‘i.

But I know no matter what, my sister and I have each other's backs.

[sound of an ocean wave] Next, this story from the HIKI NŌ archives from Kalama Intermediate School on Maui showcases the art and craft of making kapa cloth the traditional Hawaiian way.

[pounding] So kapa, in my own words, would be being reconnected to my cultural traditions through the practice of kapa making.

Kapa was used in Asia and Hawai‘i for such things as clothing, beddings and banners.

The revitalization of kapa making has restarted traditional uses, along with contemporary uses for art and fashion accessories.

And what that means for me is being able to make a piece of kapa that I, real close to what my kupuna did.

So the, the process would be you plant your kapa, your, your wauke.

Two years after that, you would harvest your wauke, then you would strip it, you would soak it, then you would pound it to a mo‘omo‘o, then you would dry it out and then re-wet it, pound it out again.

After it's nice and dry, you would soften, you would dye it, and then you would print it.

It sounds really quick, but it has taken years of understanding or experimenting for Aunty Lei to explain how to do this.

Kapa is important to me and my family because it's something that I can teach them.

I can teach my children and I can teach my grandchildren.

Kapa is something that has not been widely practiced for over 200 years.

Over the last 30 years, interest in kapa making has revived the art.

So I think I've been pounding kapa for about 17 years now.

I do kapa every day.

So, every day, there is a ritual for me that like, I wake up in the morning, I go tend to my, my wauke, make sure that they're all good.

My dye plants, and I do some kind of kapa stuff.

Could it be pounding, to planting, to making, to doing research.

I do some kind of kapa thing every day.

My goal is to help reclaim native Hawaiian kapa cultural traditions to the contemporary Hawaiian, learning as much as we possibly can to reconnect to our ancient cultural traditions.

And with that, I hope to empower our native Hawaiians with their own self-identity, to, um, be able to claim, reclaim the rights of the language, of their land, of their identity.

Why am I interested in kapa?

‘Cause it's cool.

It's a cool thing to do.

It's something that just keeps my, my interest to learn more, to do more, and to be connected more.

This is Leilani Over from Kalama Intermediate for HIKI NŌ.

[sound of ocean waves] The next visual essay from a student at H.P.

Baldwin High School on Maui is a great reminder of what home truly means.

Let's watch.

Home.

It is often defined as a place where one lives with four walls and a roof.

For me, a home is more than where one lives.

A book once taught me, home isn't a set house or a single town on a map.

It's wherever the people who love you are, whenever you're together; not a place, but a moment and another, building on each other like bricks to create a solid shelter that you take with you for your entire life, wherever you may go.

Year after a year, I reminisce about the people that I have lost.

They were, and are, some of the most important people in my life.

I wanted to go back in time, and rewrite everything leading up to the loss of them, to mend the broken pieces of my home.

But what would going back in time fix, besides having the same outcome happen?

That's when it hit me.

In the past years, I have failed to realize that I have met the most amazing people and animals that have made me the happiest I could have ever been.

Whether they may be near, or far, these amazing people and animals are my definition of home.

[sound of an ocean wave] The students of Hawai‘i Preparatory Academy on Hawai‘i Island have a legend to share with you about a fabled rock that is said to have the power to bring rain.

It's a special story from the HIKI NŌ archives.

[Hawaiian chanting] You know, you have to believe.

You have to believe and you have to trust that the ways of ancient people that were here before you and were passed down to you are upright and true.

Well, in a hidden place in this small town of Waimea on the Big Island, a legendary pōhaku, or rock, by the name of Manaua was a savior for many people in their times of need and despair.

Many Hawaiian people believe that Mana‘ua can provide a safe haven for them to practice their culture and to perpetuate what they believe in.

Aloha mai kakou o Pua Case ko‘u inoa.

[Speaks in Hawaiian] My name is Pua Case.

I am born and raised here in this community of Waimea.

This is my one hānau, my birthplace.

Maunakea is my mountain, and I am standing in front of Manaua, the rain rock of Waimea.

Mana‘ua got its name from the mo‘o, or lizard, that lives in Kohakohao stream that sunbathes on this pōhaku with her family.

There are those who still can see them.

And so, when we come here, those who can see them will say, “Oh, Manaua is here.” It is said that Manaua has the gift to bring water to Waimea in times of need.

When my father was in charge of water for the entire ranch, you know, we went through a really, really severe drought in 1978 and 1979 where we didn't have any more water, if you can even believe that in a community here in Hawai‘i, where the only water you have is coming out of one spicket at Church Road.

Many people, like Pua Case, believe that Manaua is the one responsible for bringing Waimea out of the drought and turning it into what you see today.

It is a place that we treasure, that is alive with the prayer and the offerings, and it is something that we can teach our children.

So we made a promise in this community that we hope to keep, and we've been doing it for years where every student in every school learns about Manaua.

By learning the story of Manaua, the community and students are helping preserve the story of Waimea.

Wherever I am, I am at the sacred places between Manaua and Maunakea, lies Waimea.

This is Jane-Grace Cootey from Hawai‘i Preparatory Academy for HIKI NŌ.

[sound of an ocean wave] Thank you for watching this week's episode of HIKI NŌ.

We hope that you've enjoyed watching the work of Hawai‘i's new wave of storytellers as much as we've enjoyed sharing them with you.

Don't forget to subscribe to our YouTube channel and follow us on Instagram and TikTok to receive some bonus behind the scenes content and keep up to date with the latest and best stories from Hawai‘i's youth.

That's it for our episode.

We'll see you next week for more proof that Hawaii students HIKI NŌ, can do.

[outro music plays]