Traditional Hawaiian Knitting: Weaving Stories Through Craft

The pū hala tree, Pandanus tectorius, grows wild along Hawai‘i’s beaches, its long, thorn-lined leaves a familiar sight to anyone who has walked the coastline. But those leaves are more than botanical debris. For generations, they have been the raw material for ulana lauhala—the weaving of hala leaves into mats, hats, baskets, and even the sails that carried Polynesian voyagers from the Marquesas Islands some 2,500 miles to Hawai‘i more than 1,000 years ago. What looks like a craft is a system of knowledge transmission, one that nearly vanished and is now being rebuilt strand by strand.

This article traces how ulana lauhala survived the arrival of European cloth in the late 18th century, the coffee-plantation-era trade on the Big Island, and the cultural suppression that followed. More importantly, it explains where you can see—and learn—the craft today, from museum workshops on Kaua‘i to the online cohorts that have drawn over 100 female weavers into a single community.

Understanding Ulana Lauhala as a Living Practice

The craft is inseparable from the tree, the people who harvest it, and the protocols that govern both.

Only leaves on the verge of dropping—thick brown lau, the longer the better—are taken from the pū hala. Weavers introduce themselves to the tree, addressing it as they might a loved one, a practice documented by Emma Broderick, executive director of the Pu‘uhonua Society on O‘ahu, a group dedicated to reviving practices that were on the verge of vanishing. The word “pu‘uhonua” means refuge, and the society, founded in 1972 by Broderick’s grandmother, has operated as exactly that for three generations.

The hala scale insect, introduced to Maui in 1999, has threatened the trees themselves, making the craft’s survival doubly precarious. Yet interest in ulana has gained momentum over the past four decades alongside the resurgence of the Hawaiian language. What was once purely functional—floor mats, thatching, baskets—has become a vehicle for cultural reclamation.

Where the Weaving Happens: Key Places and People

Three distinct hubs anchor the revival of ulana lauhala, each with its own approach to teaching and community building.

The Kaua‘i Museum Workshop

At the Kaua‘i Museum in Līhu‘e, instructor Eugene Onio Punzal begins each session by blowing a pū (conch shell horn), followed by a group chant titled “Mele Oli Aloha No Kaua‘i” to honor the sun and the land. His modern tools include a pasta maker fitted with a tiny row of blades to separate the narrow strands—a far cry from the traditional seashells used for cutting and stones for holding strands in place. Punzal studied for three years under master weaver Maile Andrade and has been demonstrating at the museum for nearly three years. His assistants call themselves the “ulana ‘ohana,” or weaving family. A revealing shift: Punzal designed the classes for tourists, but now 70 percent of participants are locals who have no other opportunity to learn.

The Pu‘uhonua Society on O‘ahu

Emma Broderick, now 33, runs the Pu‘uhonua Society, inheriting the leadership from her mother, who inherited it from Emma Aluli Meyer, the founder. The society gathers beneath a canopy of pū hala trees, harvesting only the thick brown leaves on the verge of dropping. The leaves are used to plait hats, bracelets, fans, ceremonial baskets, and moena—traditional floor mats that were once ubiquitous in Hawaiian homes. Broderick introduces herself to each tree before harvesting, a protocol that frames the work as reciprocal rather than extractive.

The Online Cohort of Hui Waianuhea o ka Pua Hala

Weaver Kā‘eo Izon opened his first female cohort in 2021, formalizing a group that now numbers over 100 weavers working through its 11th cohort. The 18-week program meets once a week for two-hour sessions, with students completing three projects: a water bottle cover, a crownless hat, and a hat. Izon gained popularity on Instagram and TikTok by sharing his woven works alongside Native perspectives delivered with wit and humor. During the pandemic, classes shifted online, proving that the transmission of sacred knowledge can adapt without losing its foundation. Izon’s first formal student, Pueo Pata, has since become the group’s appointed kahu (steward).

Planning Your Engagement with the Craft

Access to ulana lauhala is not automatic. Timing, location, and the specific teacher determine what you will encounter.

When to Go

The Kaua‘i Museum offers workshops throughout the year, but Punzal has noted that local participation now dominates, so availability for drop-in tourists is limited. The Pu‘uhonua Society’s sessions depend on harvesting conditions—only leaves on the verge of dropping are used, and the tree dictates the schedule. Online cohorts run on fixed cycles; Izon’s group has completed 11 cohorts since 2021, meaning there are predictable windows for enrollment.

What to Expect Logistically

Punzal uses a pasta maker to strip leaves; students do not need to bring tools. The materials—hala leaves from Samoa and Kaua‘i—are provided. Expect to moisten the strands constantly; dry hala becomes brittle and unworkable. The bracelets take roughly an hour to complete, and the process involves naming the strands as you weave, reinforcing the language alongside the technique.

On the Ground: Protocols, Tools, and What to Know Before You Sit Down

Weaving involves more than dexterity. The cultural framework around it determines what is appropriate to make, who can teach, and how knowledge is transferred.

The Protocol of Learning

Maile Andrade, a retired professor at the Kamakakūokalani Center for Hawaiian Studies at the University of Hawai‘i–Mānoa, sought out master teachers during the Hawaiian Renaissance of the 1970s. She describes ulana lauhala as sacred knowledge. This is not a casual claim: the practice is introduced with a chant, the tree is addressed directly, and the finished items—especially hats and mats—carry meanings that go beyond their utility. Punzal’s assistant Noe Mahi put it plainly: “This is a ‘kuleana,’ or responsibility, we all share.” Mahi added, “Uncle Onio is our ‘kumu ulana,’ or weaving teacher. When he goes, his craft goes with him.” The urgency behind that statement is real.

Tools, Old and New

Traditional tools included seashells to cut leaves and stones to hold strands in place. Punzal’s pasta maker is a pragmatic adaptation, but the fundamental process—flattening, stripping, cutting three-foot leaves, and weaving while moist—remains unchanged. The students at the Kaua‘i Museum worked with two kinds of hala: a dark brown plant from Samoa and a light brown one gathered on Kaua‘i. The colour difference is not merely aesthetic; it reflects different growing conditions and leaf maturity, which affect pliability.

Who Is Weaving Now

The demographics are shifting. Punzal’s classes, originally for tourists, now serve 70 percent locals. Izon’s female cohort has grown from 14 women to over 100 in two years. Native Hawaiian men’s group ‘Aha Kāne approached Izon with a request to teach 11- to 16-year-old boys to weave, and in 2017 the men of Hui ‘Ala Hīnano gathered weekly, immersed in Hawaiian music, ‘ōlelo Hawai‘i, and hana no‘eau (Hawaiian crafts). Kawohikūkahi Adversalo joined the men’s group in 2021. The craft, once on the verge of vanishing, is being carried by multiple generations simultaneously.

Questions About Ulana Lauhala in Hawai‘i

Do I need prior weaving experience to join a lauhala workshop?

No. Punzal’s classes at the Kaua‘i Museum are designed for beginners, and the bracelet project takes roughly an hour. The pasta maker does the stripping for you, so the focus is on understanding the strand names and the rhythm of the weave.

The tradeoff: you will not produce anything as complex as a hat or a mat in a single session. Those projects require the 18-week cohort structure Izon offers.

Can I take finished lauhala items home from Hawai‘i?

Yes, with one restriction. The hala scale insect has made it illegal to transport raw plant material between islands without inspection. Finished, dried items that have been treated—bracelets, hats, fans—are generally fine for the mainland, but check with your workshop instructor before packing anything that still feels moist.

Avoid buying lauhala items from street vendors unless you can confirm the source. The best pieces come from weavers who harvested and prepared the leaves themselves.

Is ulana lauhala only for Native Hawaiians to learn?

No, but the protocol matters. Punzal is of Filipino descent and learned under Maile Andrade, who is Native Hawaiian. The workshops at the Kaua‘i Museum welcome all visitors. However, the knowledge is considered sacred, so the expectation is that you learn with respect for the language, the chant, and the tree—not just the technique.

The tension here is real: some practitioners feel that making the craft too accessible risks stripping it of its cultural grounding. Others, like Punzal, argue that the survival of the practice depends on opening it to anyone willing to learn properly.

What is the difference between lauhala weaving and coconut leaf weaving?

Coconut leaf weaving (launiu) uses green fronds and is faster to learn—hats can be completed in under an hour. Punzal himself started with coconut leaf before switching to hala. Lauhala weaving uses dried leaves, requires constant moistening, and produces items that last for years rather than days.

If you have one afternoon on Kaua‘i and want a finished object, ask specifically for a coconut leaf workshop. If you want to understand a knowledge system that predates contact, choose hala.

One Last Strand

The pū hala tree does not rush. It drops leaves when they are ready, and the weaver waits. That rhythm—harvest when the leaf browns, moisten before you weave, name each strand as you work—is the opposite of a production line. It is the reason the craft survived the introduction of cotton cloth, the coffee-plantation era, and a scale insect, and why, after reading about the mo‘olelo that anchors Hawaiian heritage, the best next step is to sit down with a wet strand of hala and let your hands learn what the language already knows.

Sources and further reading

Weaving Together a Family, a Community and a Hawaiian Tradition. The New York Times, 2024.

Perpetuating the Hawaiian art of lau hala weaving. Hawaii Magazine, 2023.

Hawaiian Hala Leaf Weaving. American Indian Magazine, 2024.