I Ulu I Ke Kumu: The Hawai‘inuiākea Monograph

Simple Truths, Profound Gratitude: “I won’t ever embarrass my kumu!”

39 Editor’s Note Cultural knowledge and practices in Hawaiian communities were passed from mkua (parents) to kamali‘i (children), from kumu (teacher) to haumana (student ), and from hulu kupuna (treasured elder) to ka pua no‘eau (the gifted learner). This was a structured, spiritual, and purposeful process, with accepted roles and responsibilities, perpetuating ancient truths and the promise of the future. But is this a description of the past, or can it also be cast in present tense? How and where does this practice fit in today’s changing times? One of Hawai‘i’s deeply respected kumu hula, Robert Uluwehi Cazimero, agreed to share with us his experience in hula—the mentorship and training he received and the cultural practice he now perpetuates. Hula and mele are his preferred media, but here he writes—offering a candid reflection about his personal journey of learning and teaching and learning again. His story reminds us that practices from the past are always very present. My name is Robert Uluwehionpuaikaw kiuokalani Cazimero, and I am a Kumu Hula, a teacher of Hawaiian dance, a medium that expresses everything we hear, see, smell, taste, touch, and feel. I graduated in a traditional ‘niki ceremony in 1973 with a class of over twenty-five students. Our kumu was Maiki Aiu Lake. Two years later, I started my own school, Hlau N Kamalei O Lllehua , and have been teaching for the last thirty-five years. After I graduated, Maiki said she wanted me to teach only men, and I have. You know the saying “You don’t know how to be a parent until you have children”? I found this to be true when I became a kumu hula. I was not prepared for the fact that everyone—family, friends, peers, and finally my own students—would turn out to be the mentors and teachers that have helped me become the person I am today. First and foremost was my kumu hula, Maiki Aiu Lake. Her insights those many years ago continue to boggle my mind. How did she know what to say and do? How did she choose so wisely? Did she know her decisions would shake the hula world to its very core? And, what did she see in me? Whatever she saw in me and felt about me, I am beyond grateful. From the moment you entered Maiki’s classroom, you knew something was Simple Truths, Profound Gratitude: “I won’t ever embarrass my kumu!” Robert Uluwehionpuaikawkiuokalani Cazimero 40 | I Ulu I Ke Kumu up! There was electricity just being in the same room with her. Maiki’s love was all-encompassing. She professed inclusiveness over exclusiveness and made each person feel that everything she shared was a personal gift from her. As students, we were all expected to have a hula book, expected to question, expected to write and research and participate. I also found that listening to her, watching her tackle problems from outside as well as inside the hlau, and observing her interactions with students, from small children to kpuna, taught me some of the most valuable lessons I continue to practice today. As a “young upstart,” I was needy of attention, all for making a big splash, lots of noise. Was I aware that I was being mentored and formally trained by such a master? Nah, no way! I was having far too much fun. I became a teacher at the age of twenty-five, and I knew shit! Didn’t have a clue. But even with my budding career as a singer taking off, I stuck close to Maiki, real close. Her lessons are still here, ingrained in me, and sharing them with my haumna magnifies my appreciation for my kumu and her methods of making me a kumu hula. Chickee and me. Like Maiki, I feel three is my favorite, most special, and magical number, so I am sharing my story in three parts. Simple Truths Patience is a truth wasted on the young. My impatience and lack of experience clashed head-on when I was teaching the gents of my hlau. Maiki would ask me if it was necessary for me to use the language I used, and I thought, “Yeah!” Simple Truths, Profound Gratitude | 41 I look back now and realize how hurtful I was. My ego at twenty-five...