Retold by Caren Loebel­Fried

Long ago in Ka‘ū, Hawai‘i, there lived a young man and woman who loved each other very much. Although they were both from families of ali‘i, their parents did not approve of the relationship. And so one night after darkness fell, they ran away together.

There were many from the community who loved the young couple, and followed to help them. And so, on becoming man and wife, the couple also came to be chief and chiefess to these people. The group walked for many days on the sunny Kamā‘oa Plain, along the flank of Mauna Loa, on a journey to a new life.

One day at sunset, the chief saw on the horizon a group of rising stars called Huhui. He knew the stormy season was near, and so they built huts to shelter themselves. Then winds from the south blew with drenching rain and booming thunder. The land would soon be ready to plant with seeds for food. When it became known that the chiefess was pregnant, the people were filled with joy.

But the chiefess became very sick and died. Filled with grief, the chief and community wailed and cried. One clear night after the period of kapu, the chief laid his wife’s body to rest in a burial cave. On the day the chiefess had been due to give birth, a tiny vine sprouted from her piko, her navel. The vine meandered out of the cave and crept through the forest with leaves sprouting from its stem, tendrils grabbing onto roots, moa, and ‘ala ‘ala wai nui plants. The vine snaked its way onto the plain, its tendrils like tiny fingers clinging to ruts in the pāhoehoe lava.

All through the season of storms, the vine traveled up the coast of Ka‘ū through many ahupua‘a. It grew through Pākini­iki, Pākini­nui, and Kahuku. It crept through the tiny district of Kī‘ao, the larger district of Manukā, and into Kapu‘a where it sprouted a white blossom. The sun peeked out from behind the clouds and shined brightly. The changing winds swept the blossom away, leaving a tiny, green gourd. The sun helped the gourd grow a little bigger every day.

On a lava ridge above the vine, there stood the hut of a fisherman. This fisherman spied the gourd on the rolling plains below. Wanting it for an ipu holoholona to store his fishing gear, he cared for the gourd, checking it every day until it grew big and fat. After the stem began to wither, he squeezed and thumped the gourd, testing it for ripeness.

Back in Kamā‘oa, the chiefess visited her husband in a dream. She cried, “Auwe! Auwe! I am sore and bruised!” The chief awoke and rushed to the burial cave. There he discovered the vine and followed its winding path through the forest and onto the Kamā‘oa Plain. He marveled at the tendrils clinging so firmly to cracks in the lava. The wind pushed him, the leaves waved him on, and as night fell, the vine led him into a shallow valley. Sheltered from the wind, he lay down, touched the vine tenderly, and slept.

In the morning, the wind whistled in his ear, waking him. The day was hot and windy. The sun pounded on his head as he followed the vine. Exhausted, he asked, “Where are you leading me, my dear wife?”

And then he saw the gourd.

He ran and swept the gourd up into his arms, cradled it like a baby, joyfully rocking it back and forth.

Just then the fisherman spied the stranger holding the gourd. He shouted, “Let go of that gourd! It belongs to me!” The chief tried to explain, but the fisherman argued, only relenting after seeing the source of the vine in the burial cave. He wished the chief well.

The chief brought the gourd home and wrapped it in layers of soft kapa cloth. The next morning, he discovered the gourd had cracked, and into his palms fell two seeds. Suddenly, the seeds began to grow. Two warm soft balls covered with downy hairs quickly filled his hands, sprouting arms and legs. Soon he held in his arms two baby girls. He joyfully hugged the twins and they giggled, grabbing his fingers and holding so tightly, the chief remembered the tendrils of the gourd vine. He knew these girls would be strong and grow up with firm ties to their people and their land.

And so the twins grew to be powerful women and great warriors who had many children of their own. The years and generations followed and the twins of the gourd became ancestors to many people. Like the gourd vine, the family spread and settled all over the Kamā‘oa Plain. Near the shore lived fishermen, in the valleys and up the slopes of Mauna Loa lived farmers. The fishermen and farmers traded and shared food from the land and the sea. Soon descendants of the twins numbered in the thousands. And the people called themselves, “The Children of the Gourd.”

From Legend of the Gourd, used with permission.