Restoration through Food and Fellowship at Waipa, Kaua’i

In the Waipa valley, on the northern shore of Kaua’i, Hawaii, community members gather to practice “malama ‘aina” or deep love and stewardship of the land. As one youth told me “We have love for this ‘aina. It is special because there are not that many places left for us. And we need to take care of our kupuna (elders) by protecting this land.” Here, the relationship between restoring land and restoring culture is not only visible but celebrated.

Most of the valleys along Kaua‘i’s North Shore used to host large swaths of coastal wetlands that were converted to taro fields by the Polynesians, who settled the Hawaiian Islands in 300–800 AD (Muller et al. 2010). Many of these fields remained in taro until they were converted to rice fields by Chinese and Japanese immigrants in the late 1800s (Harrington 2008). In the 1920s, the price of rice plummeted and these fields have been more recently reclaimed for taro. In an area with incredibly high property values, these taro fields represent most of the green “open” space on the North Shore of Kauai and, in some places, are beginning to be encroached upon by new home development.

Kalo is the native Hawaiian term for taro. Its thick corm, which looks like a cross between a huge beet and potato, roots in the lo’i or flooded fields of the Hanalei Valley. Waipa farmers intensively manage 2 acres of fields, making careful adjustments to water height and nutrients to nourish the kalo. After approximately 12–15 months, the corms are ready to be harvested and pull easily out from the sticky mud, often by children who visit Waipa to learn about the ways Native Hawaiians managed these landscapes.

Lo’i are constructed in the lowland portion of the ahupua’a, a wedge-shaped portion of land starting in the high mountains inland and spreading out to the coast, often following natural watershed lines. This native Hawaiian land management system ensured that each village had access to agricultural land in the lowlands, where they could construct taro fields (Muller 2010), and marine resources at the coast, where they could construct fish ponds (Costa-Pierce 1987).

To create a lo’i field requires redirecting water from nearby streams. At nearby Limahuli Garden, ancient lo’i have been beautifully restored, with water melodically flowing through meticulously constructed rock sluices from one patch to the next. In the Hanalei Valley, next to Waipa, farmers must carefully manage the flow of water, timing releases to avoid adding pulses of nutrients to the nearby Hanalei River, among the first to be designated as an American Heritage River in 1998 (clinton2.nara.gov/CEQ/Rivers/hanalei.html).

Lo’i can trap sediment, one of the major stressors to the coral reefs of Hanalei Bay (Takseue et al. 2009, Hanalei Watershed Hui 2012, TenBruggencate 2013). Interestingly, this human-created landscape provides critical habitat for at least five endangered bird species and 45 other bird species (USFWS 2013) and may also support native insect populations (Englund 2008).

In addition to these ecosystem services, the fields are providing a critical food source for local residents. Even the casual visitor will notice the inflated prices in the local grocery stores. With up to 85% of food being imported to Hawaii, coupled with high demand from tourists and high-end property owners, it’s not unusual to see prices for basic food goods at 2–3 times what one would pay on the mainland.

Waipa hosts a weekly farmer’s market, one of many on Kaua’i that provides access to many different varieties of fruits and vegetables. Still, even here, white pineapples sell for $12 each, while a bag of leafy greens may sell for $6. The high cost of land, importing soil amendments, and cost of living make farming a difficult profession. While there is access to fresh, organic food, the price likely limits many local people from taking full advantage of the bounty.

Poi, which is made from the boiled, mashed root of the kalo, is a basic food staple of Native Hawaiian...