fishing was tabu.” — Mary Kawena PuKui
The fisher’s dark skin, still wet from a burst
of tropical rain, reflects the sheen of the full
moon’s glow as he makes his way down the
path toward the sea on the north shore of
Oahu. Reaching the water’s edge, in a protected cove where the swell is calmed by enclosing fingers of lava rock, he sorts out his
net and prepares to fish. He knows what he
is doing is prohibited, but he takes the risk
anyway. There are many reasons for his actions—some perhaps justifiable—but that’s
not what he is thinking about. He is Hawaiian. He has a family. He is a po’e lawai’a—a
fisherman.
A sound from the rock ledge overlooking
the cove attracts his attention. He looks up
and sees two men silhouetted by the moonlight. It is too late to hide. They have seen
him. For a moment, the fisher considers
swimming out to sea, but he knows there
is no escape. He collects his gear and climbs
back up the path to where the men wait.
He took the risk, and he knows the consequences. Even if he does not agree with the
law, there is no escaping the penalty. This
he knows.
The next day the fisher will be executed—
drowned in the same cove in which he was
fishing. He broke the ancient kapu that pro-
hibited fishing during the spawn. The pun-
ishment is death.
aiby Ret Talbot
i
I have the violent old fishing taboos in
mind when visiting the Waikiki Aquarium
on the island of Oahu, where I notice a family from the American Midwest marveling at
Hawaii’s incredible diversity of tropical marine life. Yellow Tangs, Longnose Butterflyfishes, Masked and Bandit Angelfishes, gloriously pigmented Regal Parrotfish, and myriad
other species sweep and dart in the currents
as they negotiate an artificial reef structure
built to mimic the local rocky shoreline.
An aquarium docent describes the reef
ecosystem as the rainforests of the sea and
warns of the dangers they face. The reefs
