Recently at PAF, we have been thinking about circles, renewals, loops, and returns: the way that, in Hawaiʻi nei, you never meet someone just once; the way that some days have the flavor of past years; the way that, like moons, the world around us can wax and wane.

PAF begins each visit to Waikalua Loko with a piko circle. Photo credit: Grace Cajski

For the 7th time, the University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa College of Education’s STEMS2 program (science, technology, engineering, and math in connection to the social sciences and sense of place) commenced its annual 3-day symposium with a site-visit to Waikalua Loko Iʻa, our beloved place of learning, connection, and community. 

Organized by the fabulous Dr. Tara OʻNeill, STEMS2 provides our next generation of teachers with a rigorous 13-month Master’s program, of which PAF’s own Director of Education Services, Kai Mead, is an alumna. These teachers can go on to teach hundreds of students each, and in their own way, will be guides to the next generation of our lāhui. “Your primary kuleana,” Uncle Herb addressed the assembled group, “is to be able to pass knowledge: learn it, live it, teach it.” 

Hugs and welcomes abound in the circle. Photo credit: Grace Cajski

Here we see a great similarity between STEMS2 and PAF, which has taught more than 7,000 teachers and 150,000 students in our first 30 years. Both organizations serve as a kīpuka, sources of regeneration and renewal—each of us catalyzing cycles of positive change and resilience through our respective kuleana. Both of us are planting seeds, and, in embracing a truly intergenerational mindset, are sources of identity, history, and nourishment (e.g. knowledge, or food). (This is what a kupuna once said: the Western mind will see resources where the Hawaiian mind sees sources. There is a distinction between regarding ʻāina as an amalgamation of materials versus a generative site, a place from which we come.) 

During the STEMS2 visit, there were lots of reflections on shared history, and what it means to reprise that history. Tara recalled meeting Uncle Herb in her classroom some years ago, as she was teaching students about fishponds through a place-based framework. “Why are you doing it this way?” Uncle Herb had asked—then, like a ghost, he walked away… 

Everyone laughed: poor Tara had been left to contend with that open and complex question! (A question which we can always ask ourselves: why do we do anything a certain way, what are the histories, processes, and societies that inform our choices?). From then on, she has been asking herself the same question over and over, finding answers and more questions with each go of it. 

Since that encounter, the PAF ʻOhana and Tara have crossed paths many times, once of which was in 2016, at Waikalua Loko Iʻa. Uncle Herb and Tara had been talking story by the gravel path. When they turned towards to kuapā in preparation to walk across the pond, they were shocked: the wall was gone. A king tide had engorged Kaneohe Bay, and it had risen so high that it had overtaken the wall and spilled over into Waikalua Loko. On this day, nearly a decade later, we were experiencing another king tide. The banks of Kaneohe Stream were completely covered; the lower parts of the kuapā (which is in the process of being raised) grew wet and muddy; the keiki pond filled from Kawa Stream. “Time is a circle,” wrote Gabriel Garcia Marquez—and it certainly feels that way. Kiley, our amazing Sea Cucumber Technician, also reflected on the cycle of the STEMS2 symposium. When these UH folks were here last year, Kiley was just beginning her internship with us; now she is a graduate of Castle High School and is pursuing her goal of supporting Hawaiian agriculture and food security. 

The group took time to kilo before doing some hana. Photo credit: Grace Cajski

Yes, time is indeed a circle—and we’d like to layer on that the circle of ecology. Derek pointed out that the very richness in nitrogen that allows akulikuli to thrive by the sea shore is what builds, when we eat it, the nitrogen bases in our DNA. 

We’d also add that gathering is a circle: the way we form a piko circle before commencing events like these, facing each other while turning inwards. In our piko circle, Uncle Herb shared how important it is to adopt a 7-generation perspective—a worldview that many other indigenous peoples share. The knowledge that we gain as one generation is meant to be passed down to the next, just as we are meant to seek knowledge from the past. One piece of ʻike kupuna: loko iʻa can be foundational elements for production, and just as we were once producers rather than consumers, we can become that again. There were lots of nods throughout the circle.

Folks took a makawalu approach to exploring the pond, including checking out the sediment. Photo credit: Grace Cajski

When we gather, in a piko circle or in the moments before, we hear oli, both at the opening and at the closing of events like these. In opening, the PAF ʻOhana shared Ola i Ka Ha, voicing the abundance of life found in Hawaiʻi and the perpetual life found on Earth. In closing, we sang Oli Mahalo, expressing gratitude to our ʻāina, our ancestors, and each other. In between, we examined the meaning of E Ho Mai, and its instruction to be keen observers, finding knowledge in the songs of life. This perspective is also found in PAF’s guiding worldview, wherein we seek to be makaʻala and makawalu, being keen observers who seek out multiple perspectives. By doing so, we can walk away from the day with a higher level of understanding of what aloha ʻāina is. And, amidst a strong wind and high tide, we did just that.

Many STEMS2 cohorts got to gather together at the pond. Photo credit: Grace Cajski