remaining years on Hawai‘i, and even later in New England, would be characterized by a tormented mind, subsumed in the abyss of the dark hours, sustaining periods of self-remorse and despondency, searching to find answers to questions that gave no answers, no resolution.43
The wife of his captor treated him kindly and even the man that killed his parents did not abuse or overwork him. Nonetheless, the face of the warrior that had tortured him and violently executed his family was a constant reminder of the horror he withstood. ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia existed solely with feelings of profound culpability. He suffered many nights where he cried himself to sleep while living with his captors for almost two years.44
In time—and quite unexpectedly—‘Ōpūkaha‘ia reunited with his mother’s brother. This uncle, Pahua, was the praying priest (kahuna pule) at the Heiau Hikiau in Nāpo‘opo‘o and had arrived in Kohala while traveling around the island to collect tribute to cover the costs of the Makahiki festivals.45 At these times, chiefs would confine people to their huts by virtue of kapu, while the kahunas, bearing the figure of the god Lono, would liberate them through the collection of tributes (i.e., pigs, dogs, tapa, etc.) paid to the ali‘i in support of the Makahiki, which was initiated in honor of Lono’s wife, Kaikilani.46 Pahua had trained under the tutorage of Hewakewa, the high priest (kahuna nui) of Kamehameha, and may well have been present at Kealakekua Bay when Capt. Cook was slain.47
At first, Pahua did not recognize his nephew. The last time he had laid eyes on the boy ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia was a mere child, and he had now grown into a young teenager. Uncertain, Pahua inquired about his parents and when he heard the name of his sister, Kamoho‘ula, the priest broke down in tears. He had thought ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia dead. Trembling, Pahua could hardly believe his fortune. His nephew was alive, saved by the gods and reunited with him.
The kahuna resolved that the boy should not return to the home of his captive, insisting that he must dwell with him and his maternal grandmother, Hina, in Nāpo‘opo‘o. Reconciled with his true family, Pahua planned to take ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia under his wing, tutoring the boy to follow in his footsteps and enter the priesthood, devoting his life to the gods who had saved him. Determined, Pahua instructed the young boy to return to his captor and petition for his release.48
The warrior who retained ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia did not take the request calmly. Angered at the thought of releasing the boy, the countenance and menacing voice of the man put renewed fear into ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia, who would never be allowed to leave until his slaver died, or the boy died first, which the warrior threatened. ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia wanted so desperately to go with his uncle—to be rid of the face that reminded him continually of his parents’ merciless deaths. Yet he was powerless. The confrontation reopened deep emotional wounds.
After his encounter with the warrior, ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia sought out his uncle and told him of his captor’s ire at the mere idea of yielding his freedom. Pahua fashioned an attitude, instructing ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia not to return to this vile man, but remain by his side. Let the warrior, his sister’s murderer, come to discuss this with the priest. Pahua would handle the situation personally; as a kahuna, he had the power and influence to do so.
A few days later, the warrior approached Pahua to collect his property. Pahua spoke eloquently of ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia as his own child, making it clear that he would not let the boy leave him under any circumstance. If the warrior insisted, he must take both ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia and Pahua back with him as captives because the priest would never let the youth leave his house alone.49
In the end, there would be no confrontation, no frightening outcry. Pahua was a man who served the gods. His mana was far more powerful than that of the abductor. Whether out of respect or fear of the kahuna, who was capable of praying someone to death,50 the warrior acquiesced and agreed to give ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia his freedom. He gave the uncle one curious stipulation: “You must treat him well and take care of him in a proper way, just as I have done.” Pahua agreed that it would be satisfied.51 Had this enslaver of ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia, murderer of his family, become fond of the boy? Or had he accepted that he was in no position to challenge the kahuna and, thus, attempted to make a good appearance of his predicament? Whatever his motives, ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia was now free to live with his uncle and train to be a kahuna, maybe even take his place as the praying priest at the Heiau Hikiau.
Under Pahua’s mentorship, ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia matured into a bright and resourceful young man. Beginning his apprenticeship as a kahuna, Pahua trained him hard, demanding long tedious hours commencing at sunrise and continuing throughout the day, well into the late night. ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia strained to learn and memorize long litanies; repeating them daily at the heiau, ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia prayed for the life and happiness of the chiefs, for their safeguard from enemies, for beneficial weather and productive crops, for protection and appeasement of the akuas to prevent volcanic eruptions, tsunamis, and earthquakes. He was intelligent and quickly learned the extensive prayers and associated rituals to uphold kapu and to forgive violators. He committed to memory thousands of verses that were part of the significant oral histories of the Hawaiians, including Kumulipo, the Hawai‘i creation chants. Though the long hours and intense study commanded his attention and brought on exhaustion, during the evening, thoughts of his family’s deaths still haunted him into the night until welcomed sleep approached. Beginning a new life under Pahua’s protection and Hina’s guidance, ‘Opūkaha‘ia was being groomed to be a person of great magnitude among his people. Nonetheless, his soul remained anguished.
His seminary was the Heiau Hikiau in Nāpo‘opo‘o, by now an international deep-water seaport. Hikiau is translated as “moving current” which graphically describes the heiau’s location along the lower edge of an ancient surfing beach at the inner, easternmost recess of Kealakekua Bay. Heiaus were special places of reverence. All Hawaiians lived to honor the gods and frequently had a small heiau, usually an altar or shrine in which to worship daily, within their houses. Formalized, larger heiaus, where ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia studied and institutionalized priests held ceremonies while praying for the needs of the chiefs and their people, consisted of wooden-fenced enclosures upon large stone platforms containing several houses, including massive open-air temples on top of the extensive stone podiums. Multiple carved wooden idols, akua ki‘i who stood upright sporting grimaced faces, required appeasement. Only the chiefs, nobles, and priesthood could enter these large stone platform heiaus of the luakini-style, designated for human sacrifice. Maka‘āinana were restricted by fear of death.52
The dichotomies of peace and war as well as conformity and conflict were a part of ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia’s preparation. He became knowledgeable in the manner to pray, serve at rituals, and carve wood to symbolize religious icons. His entire existence was encompassed into a pantheon of akuas, spirits and other supernatural beings residing in the woods, amid volcanic boulders, in the ocean and onshore, entering into all animate and inanimate objects. There was no distinction between the natural and supernatural worlds. They were one and the same. ‘Opūkaha‘ia was trained to become the vehicle for maintaining the proper relations between these spirits and the people, the mediator between the gods and the Kanakas Maoli, maybe even becoming a kahuna nui at Hikiau, and presiding over all aspects of their Native religion behind the sacred wooden enclosures.
Adjacent to his seminary and along the shore, ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia constructed a small, personal heiau he named, Helehelekalani. Within, he built three small shrines to Lono, Kū, and Laka, the god of the hula.53 Pahua was proud of his nephew, but he may have worried that being away from the secured enclosure on top of the heiau would bring ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia in closer proximity to the seafaring haole (foreigners), with their irreverent behaviors and disregard for kapu, posing a threat to all existence.
For more than twenty years, my right hand man on archaeological field expeditions was David G. Cooke from Rocky Hill, Connecticut. Although an amateur, Dave had a passion for history and archaeology that could not have been surpassed by any