Hawaiian Skies: Māhoe Hope
By Leilehua Yuen, Hawaiʻi Culture and Language Resident at the International Gemini Observatory / NOIRLab
Our malama (month) begins with the first sighting of the Hilo moon. Our first star chart features the sky on the night of the Hilo moon at 20:00 (8:00 pm), and our second star chart features the “morning” star field at 05:00 (5:00 am) for our early rising astronomers. For directions, I will follow Kepelino, using Koʻolau (North), Kona (South), Hikina (East), and Komohana (West).
The names I present for the various celestial bodies and constellations have three main sources: Nā Inoa Hōkū, the Polynesian Voyaging Society (PVS), and folk stories (moʻolelo, kāʻao, legends, fables, and tales) that I have collected from my own family and other families from childhood and well into adulthood. All of these sources provide names, and each name has a specific use, whether as a directional aid for navigation, an aid to remember the components of a story, a calendrical marker, or a clock. Each name is important, and if we can find its source, we can learn how the stars relate to the stories our ancestors thought worthy of passing on.
These Hawaiian Skies articles are told from the perspective of a storyteller, not from that of a navigator, a farmer, a healer, or a seer. Any mistakes of recording, memory, or interpretation are mine, and mine alone.
Māhoe Hope (24 Aukake - 21 Kepakemapa)
Māhoe Hope is much the same as its twin, Māhoe Mua. Rainy and windy days alternate with sunny. When I was a girl, they were usually sunny much of the day, the clouds began to gather in the afternoon, and gentle rains bathed Hilo all night long, turning to mist in the morning and burning off as the sun rose.
As the summer rolled on, the rains arrived later each evening and left earlier each morning, until by mid-September the grass was dry and crispy and we all were saving our bath and dishwater to pour on the garden, peering in the water tanks to reassure ourselves that we had enough water to last until the winter rains. My father would cut tī stalks and lay them in the water troughs for the horses and cattle to prevent evaporation and keep the water cool. Since the leaves floated, the animals could push them down and out of the way to drink. When the pasture grasses became unpleasantly dry, the tī provided a juicy snack for them.
Click to view in detail - Credit: NOIRLab/NSF/AURA/L. Yuen
As our sky darkens on Pō i Hilo i Māhoe Hope, Iʻa Lele i Aka, the Great Fish Leaping in Shadow, shines out almost directly overhead. Mānai a ka lani, Maui’s famous fishhook, and Pīmoe, the great ulua (crevalle), are there as well.
Keoe and Humu are on each side of the Milky Way, and will feature in the Tanabata celebration the Maunakea Observatories are hosting on Aug. 30 in Hilo. There we will observe them as Orihime (おりひめ, 織姫; "Weaver Girl") and Kengyūsei (牽牛星, Cow Herder Star). Tanabata is celebrated throughout Japan.
The story of Humu, as told by Kupahu (Johnson and Mahelona 167-8), suggests that Humu was a guide star to Kaua‘i when a canoe sailed from Oʻahu. Not only does the story encode important navigational instructions, but it also contains a warning to listen to a person's knowledge, not to pre-judge them based on appearances, and it warns to keep one's own ego in check.
Humu was a hoʻokele, a steersman. He carefully trained his two sons in his knowledge so that they also would be able to serve his chief. On a voyage from Oʻahu to Kauaʻi, Humu sent his two sons with the first canoes. His older son was already an excellent navigator and noticed the canoes going astray and heading toward an oncoming storm. He advised the hoʻokele of that canoe, who became angry at the boy's insistence, and finally threw the two brothers overboard and sailed away. The boys swam after the cluster of three stars that mark the route to Kauaʻi, as they knew their father would take that route. As the canoe bearing the chief and guided by their father approached them, the older brother struck the hull with his hand. All on board heard the sound, and the brothers were pulled out of the water. The chief's canoe finished the journey to Kauaʻi and waited for the other canoes, but they were lost at sea and never heard from again. The three stars that the hoʻokele and his sons used were named in their honor. Humu is the central large star, and on each side of him are his sons. The three stars together are known as Humumā, "Humu and Family."
We are still in hurricane season, and the Ipu Makani a Laʻamaomao remains high in the sky. A very old navigational name for this constellation is Hōkūʻiwa, which some sources say translates as Frigate Bird Star. Tradition says Hōkūʻiwa guided Hawaiʻi Loa back to our islands after his voyage to the South Pacific. I have seen it spelled without the ʻokina, which makes me wonder if, like Nā Hiku, the name is simply a reference to the nine major stars. But a couple of generations ago, the ʻokina was inconsistently used.
Kauamea, Corona Borealis is nearby. For me, in the story of Lono and Puapuakea, it is the apu, the cup, from which Puapuakea served Lono his ʻawa, and in the story of Laʻamaomao, as I learned it, while the great ipu with the bones of Laʻamaomao contains all the winds, the little ʻapu contains the rain.
For me, the Big Dipper is ʻŪhā Moa, a chicken leg being roasted by Puapuakea for Lono. But it is more commonly known simply as Nā Hiku, The Seven. The stars are: Hikukahi - Duhbe, Hikulua - Merak, Hikukolu - Pheda, Hikuhā - Megrez, Hikulima - Alioth, Hikuono - Mizar, and Hikupau - Alkaid.
The Polynesian Voyaging Society named Cassiopeia ʻIwakeliʻi, King of the Frigate Birds. As a child, I learned this to be ʻIwalani and Mālolo, the Heavenly Frigate Bird and the Flying Fish.
Rising in Hikina is Ka Lupe a Kawelo. This is another modern name given by the Polynesian Voyaging Society. They show it a bit differently compared to the way I have drawn it. As PVS uses it, this star line is important in Polynesian wayfinding and navigation.
Click to view in detail - Credit: NOIRLab/NSF/AURA/L. Yuen
If we move to the second chart (05:00 on 25 Aukake), the Hoaka moon will rise at 08:12, and Ka Lupe a Kawelo has moved overhead along with Malolo and ʻIwalani.
Another constellation we see this morning is Na Kā a Makaliʻi (Pleiades), as well as the star Makaliʻi (Aldebaran). Today, people generally call the Pleiades Makaliʻi, but it goes by several other names. In the story of Makaliʻi and his search for a wife, it has three names: Na Wahine a Makaliʻi, Na Kā a Makaliʻi, and Na Kōkō a Makaliʻi. In this case, I believe “na” is a stative prefix, not a pluralizing article. I believe it indicates that at different angles the constellation will look: “Like the woman of Makaliʻi”, “Like the bailer of Makaliʻi”, “Like the Net of Makaliʻi”. If we look at the constellation as it travels, we see that in the first 60° of the arc, the constellation is at an angle in which it does, indeed, look rather like a standing woman. In the second 60° of the arc, it looks rather like a bailer, and in the third 60° of the arc, it hangs down looking like a net.
If you look at Aldebaran as it rises in Hikina, the head of Taurus looks like the sail of a Hawaiian waʻa, a canoe. A faint line of stars under the right-hand side of the bull’s face makes the glowing hull of a waʻa. Aldebaran, Makaliʻi, sits in the steersman’s place. We will save the story of Makaliʻi, the steersman, and his search for a wife for a future Hawaiian skies article as these stars become more visible earlier in the night in future months.
