By Kaʻehukai Goin
Traveling into the Pō is a conflicting experience because we have been taught that this is a place of our ancestors, our akua, and the realm we return to when we leave our physical bodies. That being said, to travel this path for the sole purpose of cleaning up trash from around the world is disheartening. How can a place with nearly no human presence become so damaged?
As a Kanaka ʻŌiwi, I am very humbled, blessed, and grateful for all the experiences and knowledge I have gained in this space; however the reason for my hana in Papa- hānaumokuākea always lurks over my head.
I work as a marine debris technician with the Papahānaumokuākea Marine Debris Project, and I’m currently gearing up for my fifth mission, which will take place this August. For me, this is more than a job. It is an honor to mālama one of the most sacred places of our genealogy.
When we consider the term ʻāina, it goes far beyond just meaning “land.” It represents the very source of our resources for sustaining life and embodies our familial ties. As a family, it is the kuleana of all members to mālama one another. This bond is rooted in love and protection, flourishing through unconditional reciprocity.
The resources provided by ʻāina including the land, sky, ocean, and freshwater are essential elements that nourish our bodies and wellbeing, having nurtured our people for over a millennium. To kōkua this ʻāina akua is a privileged kuleana of Kānaka ʻŌiwi, continuing a cycle that has, for a long time, been altered due to political oversight and undermining of lāhui.
In taking care of this place, we are not just simply cleaning up the world’s neglect, we are reconnecting with our genealogy, reestablishing relationships with kūpuna who have not seen our presence in a long time.
As we transition into Pō at Ke Ala Polohiwa a Kāne, there’s an undeniable shift in your naʻau that resonates throughout your being. When we invoke our akua and kūpuna, speaking the language of our ʻāina, we allow our ancestors to recognize us and our connection to this space.
During this hoʻokupu it always creates that “chicken skin” moment for me. Then the thoughts of what our kūpuna must have seen and felt – the star lines shifting, the fluorescent glow of plankton hitting against the bow of the boat in the dark, the brushing of a subtle breeze against your face, and the scent of the ocean that rises with the mist – always impacts me differently on these huakaʻi.
As I gaze into the sky, I try to remember the lessons and knowledge gained from previous missions and what this new mission will bring. When daybreak hits, we see Mokumanamana and the anticipation of our kūleana sets in for me, that we are finally here. Greeted by ʻā birds, the focus sets in that we are here to help heal this sacred space from the pollution of convenience.
These trips have shown how accustomed we are to a consumer lifestyle. Many of us forget about the impact of waste when it’s out of sight. My mālama ʻāina experiences highlight the resilience of our oceans; despite the trash, life continues to thrive.
Papahānaumokuākea reminds us of past abundance and challenges us to balance our surroundings. How can we foster coexistence with nature like our kūpuna did in a sustainable way?
Kaʻehukai Goin is a young ʻŌiwi who is trying to navigate modern-day obstacles while being rooted in mālama ʻāina. He is a student of life and draws upon ʻike kūpuna, field experiences, and continually tries to expand his knowledge of Hawaiʻi and resource management.
