Kahu Sam Ohu Gon III wasn’t wearing a watch, but a quick glance over his shoulder at the setting sun was all the confirmation he needed.
"We still have time," Gon told the more than 50 people who had gathered to mark Huli Kauwela, the transition between the wet and dry seasons in Hawaii. "Let’s try it again."
On cue, members of his Halau Mele chanted, "Ke aui nei ka la" (the sun is lowering).
In well-timed response, the squinting crowd replied: "Welo! Welo!" (Setting! Setting!).
"Ke Molehulehu mai nei" (Dusk approaches), the chanters called.
"Nakolo! Nakolo" (Crawling! Crawling!), the crowd replied.
For more than a dozen years, the halau has gathered at the site of the ancient heiau Kupalaha, just Ewa of the Waikiki Aquarium, to observe the end of Hooilo — the wet season understood in ancient times as the season of the Hawaii deity Lono, and the beginning of Kauwela — the hot, dry season during which the god Ku’s influence is felt.
The change of season is heralded by a picturesque conversion of celestial body and Hawaiian landscape. Viewed from the Kupalaha site, the sun sets just atop Puu o Kapolei, a flat-topped cinder cone along the Waianae Mountain range each May 2 (May 1 in leap years). People in West Oahu and elsewhere traced the movement of the sun against other significant landmarks.
"Everything in Hawaiian culture was based on timing — the right time to plant, the right time to begin ceremonies, the right time to prepare heiau," Gon said. "And this would be the day."
And so with the sun slowly angling over the faint purple sketch of mountain along the horizon, Gon led his audience through their final rehearsal of the chant.
"O ka napoo ana i lalo." (Sinking below.)
"I ka mole o Lehua!" (At the base of Lehua!)
"Ma Alihilani." (On the horizon.)
"E moe! E moe!" (To sleep! To sleep!)
Claudia Inch, 65, stood in the midst of the chanting crowd.
A frequent visitor from Arizona, Inch found the opportunity to immerse herself in the history and lore of her second home deeply affecting.
"The tradition is amazing," Inch said afterward, eyes still fixed on the ocean.
As the sun finally touched the crown of the Puu o Kapolei, Halau Mele members led the crowd to the edge of the beach and the chant restarted in earnest.
"You don’t need a clock to tell you what time it is or what season it is if you are attentive to what’s around you," Gon said. "If anything, that’s what Hawaiians were. The way they lived their lives was an extension of observation."
"Aloha e kukulu o ka lani," the chant continued. (Aloha to the foundations of the heavens.)
"Aloha e kukulu o ka honua" (Aloha to the foundations of the world).
"Aue! Anuanu ou mau iwi hilo nei" (Aue! I am chilled to the core).
