100 Ghost Stories Counting Down To Halloween 2024. #2. Voices Carry.

 I remember the weekend when our Kumu Hula took us up into the mountains to gather palai and Lauaʻe.  

We offered our prayers in the parking lot. Once it was done, our Kumu told us that thereafter in the kuahiwi no talking would be tolerated and that certainly we could not call out the names of our fellow hula brothers and sisters.  Only silence is allowed. 

Along with gathering palai and laua’e, some of us were tasked with bringing ti leaf roots to plant in place of what we took. We sat and busied ourselves making lei poʻo and kupeʻe.

After, we offered Mauna Leo as a chant and hula noho to the many large and small akua in the forest.  Mamala was the alaka’i of the halau for a long time: but now in these last three years she was undergoing her ‘uniki to eventually be graduated to the status of Kumu Hula.  As well as learning and memorizing all the chants and hula which were particular to our halau, she was also solely responsible for the making of lei and costumes. When playing the ipu or the pahu for the halau and directing class while our Kumu observed, Mamala also had to balance her family and business life outside of hula. 

Therefore, while offering the hula noho, Mamala made a slight mistake. It was nothing big and Mamala had been dancing long enough that she knew well to continue dancing and not call attention to the slight hiccup. The day went on without a hitch and by evenings end we were reminded by our Kumu to keep our lei and kupeʻe to make dyes later on.

At the next practice that Wednesday, Mamala was absent.  Kumu shared that she had no baby sitter for the evening but that she’d be there for hula on Friday but she never showed. The same happened on Saturday, Sunday, the following week and nearly month after. Finally, one night at hula Kumu sat us down and just glared at us but said nothing. We had no idea that Mamala walked in and sat at the back of the class. Soon, we heard a strange disembodied voice calling for Mamala.

“Maaaamala, maaamala, maaamala,” the voice groaned. It was so scary and chilling that we were all huddled together in abject fear.

“When we were up in the kuahiwi gathering palai and lauaʻe, one of you called out Mamala’s name. Who was it?” He demanded.

Quietly, I raised my hand. “When Mamala made a mistake doing the hula noho, I scolded her for her screw up but under my breath. No one heard it, it wasn’t out loud.”

“It didn’t matter how you did it. The fact is that you did it and the kolohe spirits in the nahele heard you and they’ve been calling Mahala’s name ever since, and I mean around the clock, all day and all night!" I apologized profusely and asked for forgiveness. Kumu then gathered us all together, and together we prayed and helped our Kumu bless Mamala and send the kolohe spirits away. 

Never call out names in the forest during any important undertaking. Lesson learned.