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2008 Miss Aloha Hula Kalimakuhilani Akemi Kalāmanamana Suganuma of Keolalaulani Hālau 'Ōlapa O Laka during her solo. Suganuma also won the Office of Hawaiian Affairs Hawaiian Language Award. - Photo: Blaine Fergerstrom |
State of the Art
After 45 years, the Merrie Monarch Festival shows us that hula thrives
FEW could have guessed that what started off as kitschy festival meant to breathe some economic life into a downtrodden town – complete with a Kalākaua beard contest, barbershop quartet competition and a remote broadcast of Hawai'i Calls – would turn into a mecca for the hula faithful, a weeklong pilgrimage for Hawaiian culture aficionados and the most respected competition in the hula world: Hilo's Merrie Monarch Festival.
The festival has taken place every spring since 1964, but the early days were tough. So tough that in 1968, organizers almost let the festival go. But the iconic Aunty Dottie Thompson came on board and brought with her kumu hula George Nā'ope and composer and musician Albert Nāhale-a. Figuring that a festival honoring Kalākaua should include hula, Nā'ope consulted with several old-time hula masters. Thus, the hula competition was born.
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Ka Wai Ola Cover Story |
In 1971, the first year that the festival included a hula competition, a $1 button got you in the door – and the festival committee struggled to sell them. It wasn't until the hula kāne was added to the competition in 1976 that the festival really took off. And it wasn't long after that the competition outgrew the Afook-Chinen Civic Auditorium and moved to its current home, the Edith Kanaka'ole Stadium.
Last year, some 100,000 people across Hawai'i watched the hula kahiko and hula 'auana competitions live on KITV4, while 77,000 tuned in to the Miss Aloha Hula competition. In addition to those who watched on TV, 35,000 people watched the Merrie Monarch Festival streamed online at kitv.com from across the United States, throughout the Pacific and as far away as Europe, Asia and the Middle East.
And people aren't only watching worldwide: some are dancing, too. "Many of our kumu hula teach around the world, and they bring their dancers over to see our dancers, Nā'ope said. "To see so many foreigners doing our dance is an honor for us Hawaiians, that so many people want to be a part. They learn the culture, which some of our people take for granted."
In many ways, the Merrie Monarch Festival serves as a barometer of hula culture, its success today evidence of the Hawaiian community's strong support of the art.
"Today, the hula is doing much better than it did before," said Nā'ope, who still attends the festival vibrantly bedecked in jewelry and lei. "More people are interested in our culture, which is beautiful. It's become world famous. Merrie Monarch brings a lot of people together."
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Uncle George Nāope at an 'ūniki on Kaua'i in the late 1980s. - Courtesy photo by Mike Teruya |
That 23 hālau have done what it takes to perform in this year's 46th annual Merrie Monarch Festival speaks volumes about the abundance of dedicated hula dancers. And there's a long wait list of hālau who hope to dedicate themselves in coming years, said Merrie Monarch assistant director Luana Kawelu.
"I don't think the public knows what the hālau go through," Kawelu said. The travel to Hilo, lodging, meals, ground transportation, lei and costumes for the average hālau can easily add up to $40,000 to $50,000. That's lots of cars to wash and kālua pig to sell, to say nothing of the practice and preparation that goes on year-round. "People don't realize how much goes into a seven-minute performance," she said.
Kumu Rae Fonseca and Hālau Hula O Kahikilaulani of Hilo competed in Merrie Monarch for almost two decades. This year, his hālau is returning to competition after a five-year break. "Now that we're getting ready, I think to myself, 'How did we do it all these years?' " Fonseca said. "But once you're in the flow, it becomes easier and easier."
For many of Fonseca's students, their dedication to hula shows through the commitment they make to participate in Merrie Monarch. "It shows that they have a great love for what they do. It gives them a sense of pride of being Hawaiian. Soon, they will be the caretakers of the whole thing, so it's up to the kumu today to instill that in them."
Hula Watch If you don't have a Merrie Monarch ticket already, chances are slim that you'll get one now. Don't despair: the hula competition is broadcast live on Island Television KITV4 across Hawai'i and online at KITV.com.
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Although Hālau Hula O Kahikilaulani doesn't need to fly or put their 40 dancers up in hotel rooms, it still costs about $20,000 for the hālau to participate. Since December, the hālau has organized fundraisers every other weekend at Wal-Mart and delivered phone books to pay for their costumes and uniforms. But it's not just a monetary commitment.
"Our kāne and wāhine make all their own costumes,'' Fonseca said. "For this year's costumes, we've been going out every weekend for four months to pick hau. The work helps them to appreciate the art and to be more in tune with what's happening in the dance."
In January, the dancers participating in Merrie Monarch began practicing twice a week. Now, there's two-and-a-half-hours of practice every day, with four hours of practice on Sundays. "It's 24/7 until Merrie Monarch," Fonseca said. "We take it from A to Z and back to A again."
This will be kumu hula Kapi'olani Ha'o and Hālau Ke Kia'i A O Hula's 11th year at Merrie Monarch, and she says it never gets any easier. "Every time we enter that stage, it feels like the first time," Ha'o said. "I get the same feeling, the same excitement, knots in the stomach, everything. And when we're dancing, we're sharing it with our kūpuna as well. I want to make sure it's done correctly. It's trippy. What you should do just happens."
Ha'o said the 10 kāne dancers that she's bringing to Hilo from Honolulu this year have been putting in "more than 200 percent."
"When they get off the stage, the fulfillment they feel before even hearing the outcome is overwhelming," she said. "Every moment, all the sweat and tears, is worth it."
Hālau Nā Mamo O Ka'ala of Wai'anae, O'ahu, led by kumu hula Tiare Noelani Chang, has been raising funds all year. From selling cookies to kālua pig to Krispy Kreme doughnuts, they've probably done it – and along the way, mastered the art of the two-minute car wash. "We've done lots of community projects, showing the community that we're here, and that we're going to Hilo to represent them. And the community has supported us," Chang said.
"Their dedication to hula, wanting to work more, wanting to be on that stage has brought them to a whole new understanding of hula," Chang said of her 13 dancers. "From a kumu hula perspective, it's our kuleana to pass that passion on."
But that's not to say that everyone who can don kūpe'e and shake an 'ulī'ulī will see the passion through.
"It's a good feeling to see that there's that much commitment in the hula," Chang said. "The hard part is in today's world, we don't know how many will carry it on past a certain point. As kumu hula, we know what kind of kuleana we have to carry. We all look for the one or two students who carry that fire, who can take it over when we're gone. But the idea is they all have that love and desire for hula, and no matter what happens after, it's something they can carry with them and their families."
Kumu hula Māpuana de Silva of Ka'ōhao, O'ahu's Hālau Mōhala 'Ilima agrees. "There are a lot of people doing good things, but commitment to hula is doing what's pono, even though it might not be fashionable," she said. "We identify ourselves as being involved in the culture through hula, and it should be part of who we are – not a costume you put on and take off."
"Hula," she said, "is just the tip of the iceberg of who we are as people."
46th annual Merrie Monarch Festival Competing Hālau
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