O na lehua wale i ka’ana
Ke kui ae ua lawa
He le no ka wahine
O kapo
Ali’i nui o ia moku kieki e
Ha’aha’a ka la o ka ike e ike ai
He ike kumu
He ike lono
He like pu’awa hiwa ka ike akua e
E lono

There’s so much to be said about hula, and I am definitely not the most qualified to do it. I’ve studied it for several years, through two different kumu, teachers, but am not a kumu myself, or even close to being one. But pretty much everybody who visits Hawaii expects to see a hula performance. The dance has been parodied left, right, and sideways; it even made a cameo in Disney’s The Lion King (although Timon’s performance looks closer to a Tahitian ‘otea to me and, interestingly, when the musical came to Honolulu they changed Timon’s line to “do the Charleston”. Hmm). To me, it’s an absolute shame that such an ancient dance has been reduced in the public consciousness to grass skirts and coconut bras, so I would like to rectify this. The oli, chant, linked above is a traditional invocation given before learning or performing hula and is one of many. I hope it brings the proper spirit to this discussion and raises real interest for an art form I truly love.

Hula has been danced for centuries — possibly millennia. It has always been a way to tell stories and keep histories; combined with the oli, the chants, the dances are Hawaii’s oral and visual record of natural phenomena as well as the genealogies and exploits of royalty (ali’i) and gods. In the beginning, it was only performed by men. Hula had, and still has, a sacred nature, and in the earliest days a mistake while dancing could literally be fatal. Modern hula, thankfully, does not have dancers risking their lives while performing, but it still tells these ancient stories and commands reverence. Every aspect of the hula I’m speaking about today, hula kahiko, is considered. The colors worn must match the dance. The plants and flowers chosen should have been gathered from the right location, with the right chants of thanks; they should be live and never artificial. Even the p’au, the dance skirt, has protocol about how it is stored and put on. Dancing hula should completely unify mind, heart, and body. A dancer needs to prepare so she can think and feel the meaning of every motion and the story told in the song she dances to.

For more detailed information about protocol for hula kahiko, please review Kumu Vance’s website here: https://maolihulastudio.com/etiquette/.

There are two types of hula, hula kahiko and hula ‘auana. Kahiko is ancient; the chants and dances have been passed down for centuries. Visitors can recognize hula kahiko by the music accompanying the dance; the only instruments are the human voice, percussion, and occasionally a nose flute. No ukuleles, no piano. Just voice and drum. Kahiko dancers are less likely to smile and in many instances the dance movements are a little sharper. Kahiko dances tell stories of wars, gods, and great kings; a serious, thoughtful expression is often more appropriate than a smile. Kahiko dancers are also less likely to wear flowers as ornaments; green plants like ti leaves or maile are more common. There are no grass skirts or coconut bras (a dance demonstrator once explained that “in Hawaii, grass only gets about three inches long. If we wore grass skirts, hula would be R-rated”). Skirts made from ti leaves or tapa cloth are seen, however. The ti leaf clothing may be partially responsible for the misconception about grass skirts, as it is a skirt made from something green.

I love hula kahiko. The moment I hear the ipu (gourd drum) start thundering, I’m ready to move. It wakes me up completely. Sadly for me, I have more talent for hula auana, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy dancing the story of King Kamehameha’s magical spear that eats people or how Pele traveled from place to place, digging holes, until she finally settled on the Big Island for her home (a myth explaining Hawaii’s many craters and, of course, the active volcano). Hula kahiko is powerful and beautiful to see. It was once forbidden by the West, so every dance performed is now also a celebration of a culture surviving oppression. But instead of going on and on telling you, why not follow good writing advice and show you?

Formal kahiko performances have four parts: An entrance dance, an oli, the main dance, and an exit dance. The video I’m linking below starts at the oli. The main dance is about a magical, giant lizard, a mo’o, who shapeshifts into a beautiful woman (and back again). Watch Natasha Oda as she transforms between the characters, and witness the beauty and power of hula kahiko.