Hawaiian Culture

In Hawaiian culture, ʻOhana, meaning family, isn’t just a word; it’s the very foundation of society. It encompasses blood relatives, adopted family, and even close friends, creating a network of support, love, and responsibility that guides every aspect of life. This deep-rooted connection to family shapes values, traditions, and the overall Hawaiian worldview, emphasizing collaboration, respect, and shared experiences. What Does ‘Ohana Truly Mean? Beyond the dictionary definition, ʻOhana represents a profound commitment to interconnectedness. It goes far beyond the nuclear family concept prevalent in Western cultures. It includes grandparents (kūpuna), parents (mākua), children (keiki), aunts, uncles, cousins, and

“A lot of people would look at this and see just rocks. Hopefully we can bring back some of those traditions and be able to teach this to the next generation.” — Peleke Flores, master mason training apprentices in dry-stack stone technique at Kāneiolouma Heiau on Kauaʻi. On Kauaʻi’s south shore, near Poʻipū Beach, a 600-year-old village is being rebuilt stone by stone. The restoration of Kāneiolouma Heiau and its surrounding settlement is one of the most ambitious cultural preservation projects in the Hawaiian Islands. But it also raises a question that any thoughtful visitor eventually confronts: What exactly

Lua, the ancient Hawaiian martial art, is more than just a fighting style; it’s a deeply ingrained part of Hawaiian culture, history, and spirituality. Practiced in secrecy for centuries, Lua encompasses not only physical combat techniques but also healing practices, bone setting, and a vast understanding of the human body. Today, its resurgence reflects a renewed interest in preserving and celebrating Hawaiian heritage. Origins and History Lua’s origins are shrouded in the mists of pre-contact Hawaii. It wasn’t just a sport or a method of self-defense; it was a sacred and highly guarded practice reserved primarily for the aliʻi

In 1819, King Kamehameha II sat down to eat with women, defying a kapu prohibition that had governed Hawaiian society for centuries. The act, known as the ʻAi Noa, was deliberate. Queen Kaʻahumanu, a key figure in the abolition, supported the gesture. Within months, the social and religious structure that had ordered life across the islands collapsed almost overnight. That dramatic event raises a question that still matters today: How does a system of sacred law, formally abolished two centuries ago, continue to shape the way Hawaiʻi governs itself, protects its land, and argues about its future? In 1819,

The Merrie Monarch Festival in Hilo draws tens of thousands each spring for a week of hula competitions and cultural exhibitions, but the agricultural rhythms that underpin much of Hawaiian tradition are less visible to visitors. This article moves beyond the shoreline to explore the living agricultural and cultural practices that define the islands, from taro patches to sandalwood groves, and explains how travellers can engage with them respectfully. Poi, the starchy Polynesian food paste made from the taro root, is a staple of local cuisine. Hawaii’s cultural revival, which gained momentum in the 1970s, placed renewed emphasis on

In Hawaiian thought, moʻolelo means “the history of how we became” — a word that refuses to separate myth from memory, story from genealogy. When the first Polynesian voyagers reached the Hawaiian archipelago more than 1,000 years ago, they brought with them oral traditions that would adapt and deepen across generations, intertwining with the volcanic landscapes, ocean currents, and seasonal rains of their new home. These stories — of gods who shaped islands, demigods who tricked the sun, and guardian spirits who watched over families — were never simply entertainment. They were, and remain, a way of understanding the