On a farm on Northern Pomo tribal land – also known as Caspar, California – Uʻilani Moore-Wesley grows kalo, sings, and plays ʻukulele. But the 6-acre parcel is more than a personal retreat.
It’s also the site of Xa Kako Dile:, an Indigenous women-led nonprofit working toward healing the land and its people. Moore-Wesley asked the local Pomo elders for permission to name the organization in their Indigenous tongue. The phrase translates to “water through meadow.”
Moore-Wesley, 52, made a promise to mālama the land after she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer in 2012. Chemotherapy and radiation treatment made her feel worse, so she pivoted to nourishing herself with the fresh produce and cannabis grown at Fortunate Farm.
So when she beat cancer in 2018, the Oʻahu native was ready to return the favor. “It’s more than just ʻland back,’” she said.
Although she is now confident in her Indigenous identity, that wasn’t always the case.
Moore-Wesley was raised as part of a blended family, with seven sisters and a brother. Several had Samoan and Filipino roots, and Moore-Wesley joked that they were “the Polynesian Brady Bunch.”
But in her youth, Moore-Wesley felt that her large ʻohana was caught in the throes of colonization and religion, and her mother didn’t share much about their Kānaka Maoli ancestry.
Reflecting on her childhood, “it really did affect us growing up,” Moore-Wesley said. “We wanted to learn so much about our Kānaka ways.”
Her grandmother was Chinese and Hawaiian. And her grandfather, Samuel Kalani Kaeo, wrote the beloved song, Na Ka Pueo. The musician, who played ʻukulele and upright bass, passed on the love of music to his descendants.
Moore-Wesley recalls the singing of her uncles and the ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi spoken by her tūtū wahine. Through her relatives and attending Kamehameha Schools’ Explorations Program, she learned more about her culture.
Her father, who was of Scottish ancestry, made his way to Hawaiʻi via the military. But “he embraced the culture,” Moore-Wesley added.
Growing up, she pictured herself as a nurse, particularly after her brother was hurt in an accident in high school and Moore-Wesley was by his side, packing his wounds.
She attended Kaiser High School in Hawaiʻi Kai but graduated early with a diploma from a continuation school in Kaimukī. Afterward, she worked several jobs and lived in a home of her own in Wahiawā.
Then, she met the military man who would become her first husband. At 20 years old, Moore-Wesley was pregnant with her daughter Azby Anela, who was born in 1992. Moore-Wesley made the move to Roanoke, Virginia, with her burgeoning family, residing there for four years.
However, the transition from the islands was difficult, and Moore-Wesley grew homesick. She took medical prerequisite courses at Virginia Tech, but her dyslexia and motherhood made the work more challenging.
When the marriage ended, Moore-Wesley and Azby left Virginia on a Greyhound bus and headed to Azusa, California, where her sister lived. After saving money for a year, the mother and daughter returned to Kaimukī.
Moore-Wesley met her current husband, Branch, when she was out dancing at a club with her friends. Stationed on Oʻahu, Branch hailed from St. Louis, Missouri.
Their relationship deepened when Moore-Wesley leaned on him as she grieved the loss of both her brother and father. He also encouraged her interest in exploring her heritage, particularly because his own recorded genealogy, as an African American, was tragically limited.
In 1999, the couple’s daughter, Ananda Lehuanani, was born. And the next year, they ticked off two more major milestones: their marriage at Keaīwa Heiau State Recreation Area in ʻAiea, and the birth of their youngest child, Anyawu Kamealoha.
Moore-Wesley gave her girls Kānaka names as reminders of their Indigenous identities.
“I don’t care if you 5%, 10%, 20%, 1% – you have Kanaka blood in you; you are Kanaka,” she said.
But the ʻohana eventually faced trouble securing housing and employment on the island. They decided to move to Fort Bragg, California, in 2007, although the relocation was rocky for Moore-Wesley.
Still, she was determined to build community and find aloha, showing up to every social event in the hopes of meeting other Polynesian and Native peoples, “I had to create ʻohana,” Moore-Wesley said.
She also earned a degree in early childhood education, taught at a local school, and received – and beat – her cancer diagnosis.
After the COVID-19 pandemic, the team at Fortunate Farm (where she had been purchasing her produce) extended Moore-Wesley the invitation to live there. Two years ago, she launched Xa Kako Dile: – initially paying the monthly lease of $2,500 out of her retirement before the organization began receiving grants.
The farm acts as a gathering place for Indigenous people with a “living medicine cabinet” growing on 1 acre. It hosts art markets, festivals, musical performances and workshops about hula, meditation and more. Xa Kako Dile: also operates a seasonal farm stand, offering up the same fruits and vegetables that nurtured Moore-Wesley in her time of need.
And she’s forged the relationships she yearned for. Moore-Wesley has been adopted by a Yuki tribal elder and her daughter. “They were ʻohana since the day I met them,” she said.
She also learned moʻolelo about Kānaka who traveled overseas to the California coast for work opportunities and intertwined with the Pomo population. “Some of them never went home,” Moore-Wesley said.
But she plans to – one day.
“I have to finish giving back to this land here who brought me life,” Moore-Wesley said. “And then, I’m going home.”
