The Legends and Myths of Hawaii: The fables and folk-lore of a strange people

by King of Hawaii David Kalakaua

It was at the time of the monthly festival of Lono. The day was beautiful. The trade-winds were bending the leaves of the palms and scattering the spray from the breakers chasing each other over the reef. A holua contest had been announced between the stalwart young chief and his favorite friend and companion, Ahua, and a large concourse of men, women and children had assembled at the foot of the hill to witness the exciting pastime. They brought with them drums, ohes, ulilis, rattling gourds and other musical instruments, and while they awaited the coming of the contestants all frolicked as if they were children—frolicked as was their way before the white man came to tell them they were nearly naked, and that life was too serious a thing to be frittered away in enjoyment. They ate ohias, cocoanuts and bananas under the palms, and chewed the pith of sugar-cane. They danced, sang and laughed at the hula and other sports of the children, and grew nervous with enthusiasm when their bards chanted the meles of by-gone years.

The game of holua consists in sliding down a sometimes long but always steep hill on a narrow sledge from six to twelve feet in length, called a papa. The light and polished runners, bent upward at the front, are bound quite closely together, with cross-bars for the hands and feet. With a run at the top of the sliding track, slightly smoothed and sometimes strewn with rushes, the rider throws himself face downward on the narrow papa and dashes headlong down the hill. As the sledge is not more than six or eight inches in width, with more than as many feet in length, one of the principal difficulties of the descent is in keeping it under the rider; the other, of course, is in guiding it; but long practice is required to master the subtleties of either. Kahavari was an adept with the papa, and so was Ahua. Rare sport was therefore expected, and the people of the neighborhood assembled almost in a body to witness it.

Finally appearing at the foot of the hill, Kahavari and his companion were heartily cheered by their good-natured auditors. Their papas were carried by attendants. The chief smiled upon the assemblage, and as he struck his tall spear into the ground and divested his broad shoulders of the kihei covering them, the wagers of fruit and pigs were three to one that he would reach the bottom first, although Ahua was expert with the papa, and but a month before had beaten the champion of Kau on his own ground.

Taking their sledges under their arms, the contestants laughingly mounted the hill with firm, strong strides, neither thinking of resting until the top was gained. Stopping for a moment preparatory to the descent, a comely-looking woman stepped out from behind a clump of undergrowth and bowed before them. Little attention was paid to her until she approached still nearer and boldly challenged Kahavari to contest the holua with her instead of Ahua. Exchanging a smile of amusement with his companion, the chief scanned the lithe and shapely figure of the woman for a moment, and then exclaimed, more in astonishment than in anger: “What! with a woman?”

“And why not with a woman, if she is your superior and you lack not the courage?” was the calm rejoinder.

“You are bold, woman,” returned the chief, with something of a frown. “What know you of the papa?”

“Enough to reach the bottom of the hill in front of the chief of Puna,” was the prompt and defiant answer.

“Is it so, indeed? Then take the papa and we will see!” said Kahavari, with an angry look which did not seem to disturb the woman in the least.

At a motion from the chief, Ahua handed his papa to the woman, and the next moment Kahavari, with the strange contestant closely behind him, was dashing down the hill. On, on they went, around and over rocks, at break-neck speed; but for a moment the woman lost her balance, and Kahavari reached the end of the course a dozen paces in advance.

Music and shouting followed the victory of the chief, and, scowling upon the exultant multitude, the woman pointed to the hill, silently challenging the victor to another trial. They mounted the hill without a word, and turned for another start.