In 1895, a small book that could fit in your pocket was published. It included 105 mele aloha ‘āīna, aloha lāhui, aloha mō’ī that were “ʻālana ʻia i ka lāhui Hawaiʻi,” dedicated and offered to the lāhui Hawaiʻi. The book was entitled Buke Mele Lahui, and the mele within had grown out of the many struggles that our lāhui had faced: the Bayonet Constitution, the 1889 rebellion, the death of Kalākaua, the overthrow of the kingdom, and the 1895 counter-revolt.

Kūhaʻo Maunakea is a moʻopuna of Buke Mele Lahui, just as we are moʻopuna of the koa aloha ʻāina who seeded the roots of our resistance, insistence, survivance, thrivance. It too is ʻālana ʻia i ka lāhui Hawaiʻi. With 18 new mele aloha ʻāina, aloha lāhui, Kūhaʻo Maunakea is an echo of our ancestors’ voices in a new generation. Both the mele in Buke Mele Lahui and Kūhaʻo Maunakea speak of the courage it takes to “ʻalo ehuehu,” or stand strong against the storm, the fury, the violence that often comes when we aloha ʻāina.

The haku mele of then and now even echo the way we describe our heroes. In “Puuwai Haokila” in Buke Mele Lahui, our beloved queen is honored for having a “puuwai haokila mageneti,” a heart made of magnetic steel. While some folks may find the inclusion of “magnetic” as an odd image in a mele, it is likely a reference to Joseph Nāwahī’s famous proclamation that aloha ʻāina is “ka Ume Mageneti iloko o ka puuwai o ka Lahui,” the magnetic pull within the heart of the Lāhui. Kūhaʻo Maunakea also makes references to the powerful steel hearts of our people, but rather than Liliʻuokalani, this time it is used in regards to the eight koa aloha ʻāina who chained themselves to the cattle guard.

Another puʻuwai haokila that this generation of haku mele sees as an ancestor once said, “If you don’t know what aloha ʻāina means, go do your homework.” And we have been. We have been following the example of George Helm, reclaiming the connection and love for land that had for so long been socialized and educated out of our people, and just as he did, we have been using music.

There is a story about how he wanted to speak to one of the Hawaiian civic clubs about the bombing of Kahoʻolawe, and the leadership thought he was too radical and didn’t want him to address the membership. So he went into the hallway with his guitar, and quietly began to play Hawaiian songs. In ones and twos, people began to leave the meeting, until everyone was crowded around him in the hallway listening to him sing. And when they were all there and he had their attention, he began to speak and told them about Kahoʻolawe. The same thing is happening today; people in positions of power do not want to listen. So here we are, singing in the hallway with our mele and our guitars, knowing that the people are coming around, and this time, when we’re singing, we’re speaking.