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Tapping the
Roots of Taro
by Betty Fullard-Leo
The roots of taro run deeper in the Hawaiian culture
than they sink into the muddy patches of Waipi'o Valley
or even into the ruins of ancient dry land lo'i (terraces)
at Greenbank in North Kohala, once part of the great
King Kamehameha's ahupua'a. In Hawaiian legend, the
taro, or kalo plant originated when the son of Wakea
(Sky Father) and his daughter Ho'ohoukalani was born
lifeless and deformed like the gnarled root of a plant.
The grieving parents buried the baby, but the next day
a taro plant sprouted from the grave, which Wakea named
Haloa. When the second son of Wakea and Ho'ohoukalani
was born, they named him Haloa, also, because he was
the younger brother of taro, from whom all Hawaiians
descended.
Early Polynesian seafarers brought this food staple
to Hawai'i aboard their sailing canoes, cooked and crushed,
and wrapped in ti leaves to prevent spoilage. They also
brought the huli, the young plants to start new crops,
and soon taro thrived in valleys and plains throughout
the Islands.
But cultivating taro is hard work requiring nine months
growing time before it can be harvested, and as Islanders
began working in new industries and their eating habits
changed, production dwindled. For years, old timers
like Uncle Ted Ka'aekuahiwi, who often demonstrates
pounding po'i the old way, with a stone pestle and a
wooden board, at Island food festivals such as The Orchid
at Mauna Lani's Big Island Bounty, were the only ones
interested in keeping taro alive. In recent years, however,
a rennaisance of the Hawaiian culture has sparked new
interest in the healthy foodstuff, sometimes called
the "heartbeat of Hawai'i" for both its spiritual
significance and its dietary importance. As sugarcane
was phased out and more land became available on the
Big Island, cultivation began to increase. Today, perhaps
450 acres are under cultivation, much of it in the Big
Island's Waipi'o Valley, as well as in Hanalei, Lumaha'i
and Hanapepe Valleys on Kaua'i, and the Ke'anae Peninsula
on Maui.
Hawaiians ate the corm or root, the leaves and the
stems. They considered the plant akin to a god, and
believed they ingested his power when they downed a
bowl of po'i. The corm was cooked in an imu for hours,
then peeled and pounded with a stone as water was added
to bring it to the thick, sticky consistency of po'i.
Taro tops might be bundled with pork or butterfish to
make laulau or simply boiled and eaten like spinach.
Grated and mixed with coconut milk, then baked, taro
corms make a pudding called kulolo, which continues
to be a treat enjoyed today.
Rich in calcium, riboflavin, iron and thiamin with
no cholesterol and almost no fat, taro is the healthiest
of foods, as well as a medicinal preparation for many
ailments. The cut portion of the haha (stem) can be
rubbed on insect bites and rashes, the thin skin from
around the stem helps to clot blood when wrapped around
a wound, and po'i can be used to soothe burns.
John Vincent, 51, remembers hauling taro by wagon-drawn
mule up the steep precarious road from Waipi'o Valley
in the 1960s. He and his wife Annette still work five
acres of taro that they plant and harvest year round
on leased land. Vincent says, "The land has been
in the family for 150 years-coming up to four generations.
It was passed down to me, Hawaiian style, for $1 and
love. Today, the older generation is giving up taro
and not many youngsters are interested, but I'm lucky
my son John, Jr., (27) works with me." Vincent
and his son have plans to add another five acres into
taro cultivation.
He and his family cleared taro patches by hand with
knives and machetes, then burned away the piles of brush.
He tilled the land in the remote valley using four-wheel
drive machinery, but sometimes when it was too wet,
even that had to be done by hand.
Several types of the nearly 200 varieties of taro are
grown in Waipi'o: lehua, most in demand of all varieties
with purple corms and reddish tints to its leaves, preferred
for kulolo and po'i; moi, which has a good consistency
for po'i; api'i, a white type used for kulolo; and pololu,
which is popular for its shiny lu'au leaves used in
cooking laulau. Many dryland varieties, such as the
Japanese adaimo, are not grown in Waipi'o at all.
Vincent and other valley taro growers, such as John
and Margaret Loo and Kia Fronda (who welcomes school
children to learn the old ways of planting in his seven-acre
patch), supply taro corms and lu'au leaves to the fancy
resorts along the Kohala Coast to be used in regional
cuisine. In Waimea, Cook's Discoveries in the historic
Spencer House is a retailer for po'i and kulolo made
from taro harvested by Vincent and Jerry Konanui, another
Waipi'o grower. The demand always out distances the
supply.
With renewed interest in the healthy, but often scarce
staple, taro festivals have sprung up across the state,
celebrating its importance. On the northern side of
the Island, the Aloha Taro Festival in Honoka'a has
been promoting the industry since 1992. Again this year
on November 8, from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. taro farmers will
share their expertise at the festival, staged at the
County Gymnasium, where displays on taro growing and
preparation, as well as music by local entertainers,
crafts, malassadas from Tex's, saimin and baked goods
prepared by the Lions Club will highlight the community
affair. Phone 808/775-0457.
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Story appeared originally in Coffee Times print magazine and appears online for archival purposes only. Any use or reprinting of these stories without the expressed written consent of the author is prohibited.
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