As my high school self walked down the storied hill to Ulupo in Kailua, I felt myself humming with excitement. I wore my oldest shorts and my darkest brown shirt, ready to step deep into the lo‘i and come home as muddy as humanly possible. But Aunty Maya, who’d become one of my closest mentors, stopped me gently. “Not so fast,” she said, “The first thing we need to do is ha‘i mo‘olelo. You need to learn the stories, the names, the ‘ano of this place.” What followed taught me more about Kailua than I could’ve imagined.
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