Legends from the Pacific: Book 1

PELE - HAWAIʻI’S GODDESS OF FIRE

PELE - HAWAIʻI’S GODDESS OF FIRE

PELE IS ONE OF HAWAIʻI’S most active deities. It’s customary to offer food, tobacco, and gin to gain her favor. She appears as a beautiful young maiden or an old woman asking for help, usually before her beloved Kilauea volcano erupts. Whoever helps Pele is spared from her devastating lava.

Those who take her volcanic rocks are plagued by misfortune. This is Pele’s curse, which is lifted when the souvenirs are returned. People who ignored the curse often mail their rocks back to the Big Island along with an apology letter detailing their misfortune and where to replace the rock.

Pele wanders through all the islands, sometimes with her big white dog. They frequent Oahu’s Pali Highway, where it is f*******n to travel with pork. Motorists with pork have experienced misfortune and car problems. When the pork is removed, their vehicles resume functioning.

Pele’s sister is the ocean goddess Namaka. Before Pele was a goddess, she lived in Tahiti and seduced Namaka’s husband. When Namaka found out, Pele fled Tahiti and created land to protect her from Namaka. This is one story of how the Hawaiian Islands were created.

ORIGINS

Inspired by folklore

In the beginning, there was the Pacific Ocean. A canoe broke the horizon, piloted by Pele, a beautiful Polynesian maiden who dominated the waves until she felt safe to stop. Pele used a digging stick given to her by her uncle to make a pit of molten lava that was cooled by the sea and became an island.

The ocean goddess’s eyes narrowed as she towered over Pele, her sister who seduced her husband. The goddess defeated Pele, extinguished the firepit, and left her sister for dead.

But the hotheaded maiden forced her battered body into her canoe and sailed east. The sisters fought several more times on Pele’s new islands until the goddess killed her adulterous sister.

Pele’s soul flickered, and she became the goddess of fire.

During a present-day Hawaiian luau, a tourist looking for the smoking section encountered a Polynesian maiden. He offered her a cigarette. She accepted and lit it with fire from her finger.

PELE AND THE SUGARCANE FIELD

Inspired by folklore

One night while driving through Oahu’s North Shore sugarcane fields, a man hit a woman in a white dress. He slammed on his brakes. Her folded body remained on the hood of his car. As he tried figuring out where the woman came from, she lifted her head, smiled, and floated into the sky.

PELE’S DOG AT THE PALI

Inspired by collected testimony

When I was younger, my friends and I were in my friend’s truck going over the Pali from town to Kailua. I was riding in the bed with others, and the clouds were low like fog, which was strange because Hawaiʻi doesn’t really have fog.

While the fog streamed around the truck, I noticed a white cloud in the middle of the road. The cloud was following us. I thought it was the moon or light reflected from the truck. But the cloud was getting bigger and closer. Then I realized the cloud was a big white dog.

My friends also saw it.

“Pele’s dog is chasing us,” a friend yelled to the others riding inside.

The driver gunned it. We pulled away as the dog returned to the fog.

We were scared because we saw Pele’s dog, so she must be around. But we didn’t see her.

PELE THE HITCHHIKING GHOST

Inspired by collected testimony

Decades ago, on the Big Island of Hawaiʻi, a man drove home from his graveyard shift. The inconsistent hours and taking the kids to school or whatever they were doing blurred his days. He rubbed his face and struggled, keeping his tired eyes focused on the desolate road.

His unbuckled seat belt clicked against the door.

Smoking kept him awake, but his two remaining cigarettes wouldn’t cover the trip. He should have fixed his broken radio, but that money went to his family. Even if he had a radio, it’d probably just catch static. But static might keep him awake.

Something along the road caught his eye. An old Hawaiian lady hobbled on the shoulder. Her white dress reflected his headlights as he pulled over.

“Eh, you need a ride?”

“Yes,” the woman said. “Mahalo.”

He unlocked the passenger door. But the woman went to the back door. He unlocked it, and she opened it with a smile.

“You can sit in the front,” he said.

“No, I’m fine.” The woman settled in and closed the door.

He nodded and pulled back onto the grim road.

He offered her a cigarette. She accepted it, and he took his last one. He offered her his lighter.

She waved it away. “ʻAʻole pilikia. No problem.” The lady held her finger to the cigarette. A flame appeared on her fingertip, and she lit her cigarette.

The man lit his. I must be tired.

The lady’s silhouette dominated his rearview mirror. Her cigarette illuminated her face when she took a draw. Then the darkness reclaimed her.

He cleared his throat. “Where do you live? I don’t mind taking you home.”

Smoke loomed around her.

His unbuckled seat belt clicked against his door.

She faced Kilauea, silhouetted against the predawn horizon. “The volcano looks strange.”

He chuckled. “The volcano is dormant. It hasn’t erupted in years.”

“The volcano looks strange.” She faced the rearview mirror. “You need to place ti leaves around your house. Do that. Okay?”

“Okay? Hey, what was your name?”

The shadows claimed the lady and her glowing cigarette.

The man slammed the brakes. His back seat was empty. He left his car and scanned the deserted road. “Pele,” he whispered. He jumped back into his car and sped home. His family didn’t believe him and worried he needed to sleep more.

Days later, Kilauea volcano erupted. Lava rivers destroyed roads, reclaimed the developed land, and threatened residential areas. Many evacuated, some stayed and cried while lava consumed their homes. Amid this, a lava stream split in half and avoided a house surrounded by Hawaiian ti leaves.