Our Little Hawaiian CousinWade, Mary Hazelton Blanchard
General
Our Little Hawaiian Cousin
Wade, Mary Hazelton Blanchard
Children -- Hawaii --Juvenile literature; Hawaii -- Social life and customs -- Juvenile literature
I call it a house, yet many speak of it as a hut. It is a low building
whose sides and high sloping roof are thatched with grasses. Few such
are made nowadays in Hawaii, for the people are fast following the
example of the white settlers, and now build their cottages of wood, and
divide them into rooms, so that they look like the homes commonly found
in New England villages.
Auwae's father, however, clings to the old fashions of his people, and
his little daughter has always lived in this beautiful grass house. The
frame was made of bamboo poles fastened together by ropes of palm-leaf
fibres. Days were spent in gathering the grasses for thatching the sides
and roof of the house. They were woven into beautiful patterns for the
roof. It was necessary to choose skilful workmen who knew just how to
finish the corners, for the heavy rains of the tropics must not be given
a chance to soak through the outside and make it damp within. When it
was finished the house looked like a large bird's nest upside down.
Strange as it may seem, there is no floor in the house, but the ground
is paved with stones. It is nearly covered with large mats. Some of
these are made with rushes, while others have been woven from leaves of
the pandanus-tree. They are stained in bright colours and odd patterns.
A large screen of woven pandanus leaves divides the sleeping portion
from the rest of the house.
There is no furniture, unless one can call by such a name the great
number of mats in the corner. They serve for couches, bedspreads, and
screens. In one corner is a collection of gourds and bowls, or
calabashes, as they are called. Some of them are polished highly and
prettily ornamented. If Auwae's father desired to do so, he could sell
these calabashes to the American "curio" collector for a goodly sum of
money; but he will not part with a single one. They are of all sizes,
from that of a tiny teacup to the great "company" calabash, which holds
at least ten gallons.
When there are many visitors at Auwae's home, this calabash is used at
meal-time. It will hold enough food to satisfy the appetites of a large
party.
The greatest treasure stands at one side near the wall. It looks like a
mammoth dust-brush, but it is a sacred thing in this Hawaiian family. It
is the mark of chieftainship. None other than a chief had, in the old
days, a right to own such a thing, under the penalty of death. The long
handle of polished bone is topped by a large plume of peacock feathers.
The ancient kings of Hawaii were always attended by bearers carrying
"Kahilis," as the people call them, and two enormous plumes stood at the
threshold of their homes. No common person could pass by this sign of
royalty or chieftainship, and enter a dwelling so marked, unless he were
bidden.
CHAPTER II.
AN OUTDOOR KITCHEN.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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