Grow Aloha: ʻIlima

First, we asked Cheryl and Mia if they have any particularly special memories or stories involving ‘ilima.

“I was actually introduced to ʻilima as a hula dancer,” said Cheryl. “I danced for Hālau Mohala ʻIlima, and so all these many, many years we’ve carried on that name and were a part of that hula lineage. Our kumu, Māpuana DeSilva, she ʻūniki’d (graduated) from Auntie Maʻiki Aiu Lake, and she was in the second class, which was the Papa ʻIlima class. And so here I’ve been part of this hula lineage that has carried the name ʻilima but didn’t really know the plant, just knowing of all the beauty that shows up in our hula. For example, when we get to dance a song like Nā Pua Lei ʻIlima which is one of my favorites, you try to channel that as a dancer and feel that beauty, that elegance, that pride, and just build a relationship in that way.”

“One of my recent special memories of ʻilima is getting to know our ʻilima that grows in our ʻāina that we care for in Niuliʻi, Kohala,” added Mia. “It’s a native coastal forest, an ulu hala, a hala grove. And there’s many native plants that grow together. But that was my first real connection to ʻilima. When I first started to, kilo (observe) ʻilima in this space, they were just abundant. They were everywhere. They were full of green foliage and yellow blossoms. But shortly after, we went through probably the longest dry spell I’ve seen in that area. I watched the ‘ilima kind of shrink and dieback and, in some areas completely disappear. And I was like, “oh, no!” Our ‘ilima’s, disappearing because we don’t have a water source. We’re rain fed in that area. So, I kind of watched that happen. But then when the seasons shifted and the rain came back again, the ‘ilima came back full force. There were patches that showed up that weren’t even there before! So it just told me that we have that seed bank on ‘āina there and that ʻilima is so resilient that it can survive for a long time with little to no water and then come back in abundance.”

With ʻilima being so variable, we asked Cheryl and Mia if there were any ʻilima or areas where ʻilima is found that are particularly special to them.

“That would be the ones growing in my backyard,” said Cheryl. “And it’s nice to be able to say that–that there’s actually ʻilima growing here. These are plants that we collected the seeds, germinated, cared for, and eventually got to out plant. Just to paint a picture of where we’re at–we’re on the leeward side of the Kohala mountain, so we’re on the dry side. We’re at about 3,500 feet in elevation. We often think of ʻilima papa, that’s found in coastal areas, but there’s also other ʻilima that grow up here in this elevation. All of this area–although it was once a native forest and was very lovingly cared for by many, many generations, especially by the women of Kohala–it eventually became pasture. It became grazed and has gone through ranching. And so it has been almost virtually depleted. But I think what is always exciting is that once you decide to take care of a place, fence it off, keep the animals out, and really listen to ʻāina and what it needs, you’ll see that the native seed bank is still there. It does pop up again if the conditions are right. And so we really honor the natural regeneration that is happening here, but we also want to help it along. And so part of our role as practitioners in this work is to get to know them, to watch, to pay attention, to see them in all their different shapes and sizes and conditions, and then find ways that we can restore them back to their natural habitat. But not in isolation. I think that’s one of our big lessons, is that all of these, you know, plants have friends. They all have their natural friends. And so really understanding who loves who and how to plant them, not as individual trees or shrubs or groundcover, but really as a thriving ecosystem, as a thriving native forest. And so, any chance that we can put ʻilima back here on the ʻāina, especially with its friends, I think it’s just a special moment. Especially when they’re close by, because then you can really watch them and be part of their cycles as well.”

“I feel like there are many areas that are special to me that ‘ilima has shown up,” added Mia. “Fortunately in our work, we’re able to incorporate research and our genealogy, our personal lineage into the work that we do. ʻIlima has shown up for me in particular because my lineage ties me to Kawaihae. My Akau ‘ohana of Kawaihae and my family used to live right along the shoreline where the Deep Draft harbor is. It looked very different back in the day. It was an abundant coral reef, and the stories passed down says that there was an actual island off shore that was named Pua Ka ‘Ilima for the blossoms that grew there. It’s changed significantly since then, it’s been dredged to be a harbor and a military operation, so that’s no longer there. But the surf break on the outside of the breakwall now is called Pua Ka ‘Ilima. There’s a surf park that commemorates that area. So it’s a place that I spent a lot of time in my childhood that bears the name of ‘ilima. And then fast forward to our work at Niuliʻi, I actually, found a genealogical tie to Niuliʻi and Kawaihae and found out that one of my extended, grandfather’s name is Kapapaheʻenaluopuakaʻilima, which is literally “the surfboard of Pua Ka ʻIlima.” I’m still learning about how there might be a connection between Kohala, North Kohala and Kawaihae, but the fact that one of my kupuna bears that name of ʻIlima is so special.”

“I’d like to mention one more area that has the name of ʻilima,” added Mia. “It’s the wao ʻilima. There’s actually a district or belt where ʻilima was the primary species. It’s mentioned in David Malo’s Hawaiian Antiquities. I was actually able to kind of figure out where that might have been on Hawaiʻi Island in Kohala. There’s a moʻolelo (story) of Kapūnohu who was a warrior in Kohala. He actually introduces himself as being from the district of ʻilima. We know that he’s from the ahupuaʻa of Kukuipahu, and that’s located in North Kohala, ʻUpolu point area, a little inland. And so that kind of gives us a sense of the elevation where ʻilima might have been abundant in pre-contact history. It’s really cool to be able to look at these historical resources and kind of pinpoint where they might have been. I think that being able to learn about these different places that bear the name of ʻilima and our kupuna whose names included these plants, just tells us how important these plants were to our people. And so I think it’s important to bring that history forward in the work that we do.”

Next we asked Cheryl and Mia what makes ʻilima unique.

“There’s a place here in Kohala mountain that many, many years ago, folks recognized we had lost our native forest. And there’s this remaining patch along the stream corridor. So they fenced it off and it remains today as really our only area that you could actually visit and be in a total native forest–almost. It’s called Koaiʻe or Koaiʻa Sanctuary and it’s open to the public, which is great. And so over the years we’ve tried to help steward that area. I remember when I moved here from Oʻahu and was taken to the Koaiʻa Sanctuary–we were walking around and I said, ʻoh, look at all the beautiful ʻilima!ʻ I was just admiring it all. At some point along the way, our guide said, ʻum, I don’t think that’s ʻilima.ʻ I was like, what?! She said it’s actually called Indian mallow. It’s also part of the hibiscus family, like ʻilima. But it was so funny because I realized that all this time I’ve been admiring a flower that’s invasive. And I guess to the untrained or inexperienced eye, like mine was at that time, they do sorta look similar. But I think that’s the beauty of ʻilima and the beauty of forming a relationship with ʻilima is when you realize, ʻoh, wait a minute. No, no, they’re very different!ʻ You start having to look at those subtle differences, like the leaf shape or the velvety parts or the asymmetrical parts or maybe the seed pods are slightly different and all this. Then you realize that you can tell the difference. Which is good because you don’t want to be spreading the wrong seeds! But also there’s a sense of pride when you can recognize it, like when you see a long lost friend or relative. You get to know these native plants, like ʻilima, and then you realize that there’s no other plant that’s exactly like it. You’ll never to be fooled again.”

“So I’d like to mention Hui Kilo,” added Mia. “At the Kohala Center, we formed a small hui of staff to get to know our hoa lāʻau, our forest family members. We each picked a hoa lāʻau to monitor and observe for close to a year. My plant was ʻilima. So it was really cool because in order to get to know our whole forest, we all picked a different plant so that we could share our kilo with one another. And that’s where I got to observe some of the characteristics of ʻilima and really get to know her. One of the highlights that stand out for me is how adapted it is to grow in different ecosystems. We see it along the shoreline at sea level, we see it in our kula (plain) land, all the way up to our mesic, mid elevation forests in Kohala. So it really does do well in all of these ecosystems amongst other hoa lāʻau, amongst other family members. And like I mentioned earlier, it’s so resilient. It does prefer the hotter and drier climates. I learned that, the leaves of the ʻilima, it has these kind of short, velvety hairs that help prevent water loss. It also helps reflect the sunlight. That’s one of the ways that it’s able to survive and thrive in these hotter places. And we’re seeing a lot more of that across of Kohala–hotter and drier climates, less water across all of our spaces. So it’s been an important plant in helping us reestablish our native forest and retain that moisture. That’s what makes it unique to me is that it really shows up across all of the spaces that we work in and even even in people’s backyards.”

Lastly, we asked Cheryl and Mia what their hopes are for the future of ʻilima.

“Sometimes we have this picture in our head of what ʻilima looks like,” said Cheryl “But I think the more that we learn about our native plants, the more we realize they’re all different shapes and sizes and colors. Our ancestors had different names for the different colors. If their flower was more red or more yellow, or the leaves were different shades of green, they noticed all these subtle differences. The ancestral science and knowledge is huge. There’s a huge body that we can draw on. So I really hope for that diversity to come back not only across our native forest plants but within the species itself. We think about maile and how there are different types of maile and each has its own name. All of our plants, all of our natives have these kinds of relationships and connections and special names that really denote who they are. It would be great if that were to become common knowledge again. It would be lovely to be in conversation with each other about our surroundings and our environment. To get there, it means that we have to reorient our relationship with the plants, not as what is ʻilima, but who is ʻilima. And I think when we move to that space of who and relation and kinship, then we can enter a different phase of our understanding but also our practice.”

“What these questions have really brought up for me is our journey of pilina (connection) with ʻilima,” added Mia. “Through our different practices, through the kilo that we’ve been fortunate enough to do, through our hana and trialing here and there planting ʻilima in different conditions, our research, our historical moʻokūʻauhau (genealogy) and all these different ways that we’ve tried to build pilina with ʻilima and all our hoa lāʻau really, I think that would be my hope for the future is that folks start to develop pilina with plants that are special to them. And think about how we can incorporate them more regularly into our lives.”

Interviews were edited for clarity and length. Artwork by Carly Lake.