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In the long-ago days when the great chiefs and heroes still lived among us and did mighty deeds in the islands, there was a man named Holamaka, who lived on the small island of Monakua. Holamaka was a man who had the gift of being able to look into the heart of supernatural beings, whether god or demon, and see their true natures; and what was good he said and did, and what was wicked he said and did not. Because of this gift, Holamaka was loved by many of the gods, especially the cunning demigod Maui – even as he was bitterly hated by all of the demons that plagued the islands in those days.
Holamaka learned the ways of a kahuna (shaman), practicing his sorcery and power on the shore or in a secluded spot on the side of the loa (volcanic mountain) away from the demons that filled Monakua and all the surrounding islands. He was angry at the lives lost and people driven to madness or murder from the demons and their foul creatures, and swore to fight a great war against them. But to his great sorrow, he could not fight his battle alone, for there were too many demons and monsters everywhere. More than once Holamaka was forced to flee for his life even as he tried to face down a demon, who would simply unleash a murderous beast to drive him off.
Holamaka tossed and turned in despair at the work before him in his mountainside hut. “I must have a warrior for this battle,” he said, “for I cannot fight them alone. And to travel from island to island I will need a boat, which I do not have. A warrior with a boat.”
But no one in all of Monakua would aid Holamaka in his war, for the demons were many and terrible and their anger swift. Not one man, tattooed and bearing a dozen tokens of his courage in battle and sea-travel, would join Holamaka nor even give him one of their canoes, for fear of the monsters’ revenge.
Finally the kahuna turned his thoughts to the one who might help him. “Maui,” Holamaka prayed, beseeching the clever demi-god who was the friend of all who travelled the sea. “I need a man for this war. Help me find such a man, and I will destroy every demon and their terrible beast in gratitude.”
That very night Holamaka dreamed that he stood on the shore, and Maui was there, laughing at him. “Follow my hook,” Maui said, and the shaman awoke. It was still dark out, and the stars shone overhead. And far over the sea, shining in the night sky, were the four stars that formed the shape called Maui’s Fish-hook.
Holamaka had no boat, and no one would give him a canoe. So Holamaka walked to the shore, and walked into the water, and began to swim in the direction of those four stars.
Holamaka swam as the sun rose, and beat down on him, and swam as the light blinded his face till he ducked into the cool salt water. Sharks approached him, but a word of power from the shaman drove them away again. The sun set and once again the stars showed him the way.
For two days and two nights Holamaka swam straight out into the sea, till he saw no land anywhere, and only the stars were familiar. The salt water parched his throat, and his belly rumbled with hunger, but still Holamaka swam. Fear and uncertainty plagued him; was his vision only a mere dream? Was the dream a demon-trick, and was he only swimming to his death?
The moon rose bright as a morning sun the third night, so bright he could not see the stars for a moment in his exhaustion. He began to sink, and would soon drown in the sea. In despair Holamaka cried for help as he flailed in the water with the last strength of his weary arms.
Then he heard an answering cry – hoarse, low, but a man’s voice – and the splash of a paddle. A small canoe approached, with one man in it, dragging a paddle with one hand. One man, alone in the middle of the sea, too far to be a fisherman, and a warrior would not go to war by himself. Only one arm working. The strange man held out the paddle, and Holamaka seized it so fiercely that he pulled it from the man’s grasp even as he tumbled into the bottom of the tiny canoe.
Holamaka gasped for air, looking straight up into the night sky – and there, shining above him at last, were the four friendly stars of Maui’s Hook.
One thing occupied him now, for he was as drawn inside as a salted fish. “Water,” he gasped, begging.
The man laughed a little – and his own hoarse voice and thick tongue told Holamaka, even before he gave him the gourd with the very small sloshing sound, that this was the man’s last water from what was a long trip. The little water was warm and sweet; one good mouthful and it was gone.
But strength and joy filled Holamaka, and in silent gratitude he thanked Maui for leading him right.
For now he saw the man before him, and all was made clear: A warrior from his weapons, and one of Chief Maiwa’s men from his lower-lip tattoo. One arm hung limp below a terrible fresh spear-scar on his shoulder; he’d been wounded in battle. The man was as thin and gaunt as a starveling beggar; he’d been sent away with a tiny bit of food and water and this small boat, to make his way home or die in the attempt. He was afraid of the strange man in the middle of the sea, and he was dying of hunger and thirst, but had still come to Holamaka’s aid and given him the very last of his water even after he’d lost his one oar to this same stranger’s rescue. A one-armed man with a warm and fearless heart, a thousand times better than an entire war-party of hale two-armed men would be.
The warrior was named Wakakana, and he had prayed to Maui to send a man who would help paddle his boat.
And this is how the shaman Holamaka Kahuna and the warrior Wakakana Koa found each other. The rest of their meeting is known; how Holamaka summoned fish to feed them both, and called the two fierce sharks Nana (Observe) and Maopopo (Understand) to push the canoe with their snouts so that the two men could return to Monakua and finally begin their war with the terrible demons. And the stories of their magnificent war are proudly told to this very day.
Hoʻoleʻa Maui (Give praise to Maui)!