A POINT of land on the northwestern coast of the island Oahu is called Kalae-o-Kaena which means “The Cape of Kaena.”

A short distance from this cape lies a large rock which bears the name Pohaku-o-Kauai, or rock of Kauai, a large island northwest of Oahu. This rock is as large as a small house.

There is an interesting legend told on the island of Oahu which explains why these names have for generations been fastened to the cape and to the rock. A long time ago there lived on Kauai a man of wonderful power, Hau-pu. When he was born, the signs of a demi-god were over the house of his birth. Lightning flashed through the skies, and thunder reverberated–a rare event in the Hawaiian Islands, and supposed to be connected with the birth or death or some very unusual occurrence in the life of a chief.

Mighty floods of rain fell and poured in torrents down the mountain-sides, carrying the red iron soil into the valleys in such quantities that the rapids and the waterfalls became the color of blood, and the natives called this a blood-rain.

During the storm, and even after sunshine filled the valley, a beautiful rainbow rested over the house in which the young chief was born. This rainbow was thought to come from the miraculous powers of the new-born child shining out from him instead of from the sunlight around him. Many chiefs throughout the centuries of Hawaiian legends were said to have had this rainbow around them all their lives.

Hau-pu while a child was very powerful, and after he grew up was widely known as a great warrior. He would attack and defeat armies of his enemies without aid from any person. His spear was like a mighty weapon, sometimes piercing a host of enemies, and sometimes putting aside all opposition when he thrust it into the ranks of his opponents.

If he had thrown his spear and if fighting with his bare hands did not vanquish his foes, he would leap to the hillside, tear up a great tree, and with it sweep away all before him as if he were wielding a huge broom. He was known and feared throughout all the Hawaiian Islands. He became angry quickly and used his great powers very rashly.

One night he lay sleeping in his royal rest-house on the side of a mountain which faced the neighboring island of Oahu. Between the two islands lay a broad channel about thirty miles wide. When clouds were on the face of the sea, these islands were hidden from each other; but when they lifted, the rugged valleys of the mountains on one island could be clearly seen from the other. Even by moonlight the shadowy lines would appear.

This night the strong man stirred in his sleep. Indistinct noises seemed to surround his house. He turned over and dropped off into slumber again.

Soon he was aroused a second time, and he was awake enough to hear shouts of men far, far away. Louder rose the noise mixed with the roar of the great surf waves, so he realized that it came from the sea, and he then forced himself to rise and stumble to the door.

He looked out toward Oahu. A multitude of lights were flashing on the sea before his sleepy eyes. A low murmur of many voices came from the place where the dancing lights seemed to be. His confused thoughts made it appear to him that a great fleet of warriors was coming from Oahu to attack his people.

He blindly rushed out to the edge of a high precipice which overlooked the channel. Evidently many boats and many people were out in the sea below.

He laughed, and stooped down and tore a huge rock from its place. This he swung back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, until he gave it great impetus which added to his own miraculous power sent it far out over the sea. Like a great cloud it rose in the heavens and, as if blown by swift winds, sped on its way.

Over on the shores of Oahu a chief whose name was Kaena had called his people out for a night’s fishing. Canoes large and small came from all along the coast. Torches without number had been made and placed in the canoes. The largest fish-nets had been brought.

There was no need of silence. Nets had been set in the best places. Fish of all kinds were to be aroused and frightened into the nets. Flashing lights, splashing paddles, and clamor from hundreds of voices resounded all around the nets.

Gradually the canoes came nearer and nearer the centre. The shouting increased. Great joy ruled the tumult which drowned the roar of the waves.

Across the channel and up the mountain-sides of Kauai swept the shouts of the fishing-party. Into the ears of drowsy Hau-pu the noise forced itself. Little dreamed the excited fishermen of the effect of this on far-away Kauai.

Suddenly something like a bird as large as a mountain seemed to be above, and then with a mighty sound like the roar of winds it descended upon them.

Smashed and submerged were the canoes when the huge boulder thrown by Hau-pu hurled itself upon them.

The chief Kaena and his canoe were in the centre of this terrible mass of wreckage, and he and many of his people lost their lives.

The waves swept sand upon the shore until in time a long point of land was formed. The remaining followers of the dead chief named this cape “Kaena.”

The rock thrown by Hau-pu embedded itself in the depths of the ocean, but its head rose far above the water, even when raging storms dashed turbulent waves against it. To this death-dealing rock the natives gave the name “Rock of Kauai.”

Thus for generations has the deed of the man of giant force been remembered on Oahu, and so have a cape and a rock received their names.

Hawaiian Legends of Ghosts and Ghost-Gods, by W.D. Westervelt. Boston, G.H. Ellis Press [1916] and is now in the public domain.

The Hookooeko of Nicasio and Tomales Bay say:

When a person dies his Wal’-le[1] or Ghost goes to Hel’-wah the West, crossing the great ocean to Oo-tā-yo’-me, the Village of the Dead. In making this long journey it follows hinnan mooka, the path of the Wind. Sometimes Ghosts come back and dance in the roundhouse; sometimes people hear them dancing inside but never see them.

Footnotes:

[1] In this connection it is interesting to observe that in the language of the related Olayome of Putah Creek, Bats are called Walle; while the same word in the language of the Mewan Valley tribes means Ocean. The word for ocean among the Northern Mewuk is Wallasu; among the Middle or Tuolumne Mewuk, Wallesmah.

The Dawn of the World; Myths and Weird Tales Told by the Mewan [Miwok] Indians of California; Collected and Edited by C. Hart Merriam; Cleveland: Arthur H. Clarke Co., [1910] ] and is now in the public domain

This is a tale the old men tell around the fire, when the stars are blown clean on a windy night, and the coyotes are howling on the Cree Jump. And when, sometimes, over the wind, comes clearly the sound of running horses, their hearers move a little closer to one another and pile more wood on the fire.

This is a story from a long time ago, say the Old Ones. What the man’s name was, no one knows now, and so they call him “The Traveler”.

Long ago, The Traveler was a wealthy chief. A warrior in his young days, he had taken many scalps, many horses, and many another trophy of value. And he had increased his possessions by hard dealings with that less fortunate, and by gambling with younger men who were no match for his cunning.

His fellow tribesmen did not love him although they admired his bravery, for in times of hardship, when other chiefs shared freely whatever they had, he drove hard bargains and generally prospered from the ills of others. His wives he had abused till their parents took them away; his children hated him, and he had no love for them.

There was only one thing he cared for: his horses. They were fine horses, beautiful horses, for he kept only the best; and when a young warrior returned from a raid with a particularly good horse, The Traveler never rested until (whether by fair means or not) he had it in his possession. At night, when the dance drum was brought out, and the other Indians gathered round it, The Traveler went alone to the place where his horses were picketed, to gloat over his treasures. He loved them. But he loved only the ones that were young, and handsome, and healthy a horse that was old, or sick, or injured, received only abuse.

One morning, when he went to the little valley in which his horses were kept, he found in the herd an ugly white stallion. He was old, with crooked legs, and a matted coat, thin, and tired looking.

The Traveler flew into a rage. He took his rawhide rope, and caught the poor old horse. Then, with a club, he beat him unmercifully. When the animal fell to the ground, stunned, The Traveler broke his legs with the club, and left him to die. He returned to his lodge, feeling not the slightest remorse for his cruelty.

Later, deciding he might as well have the hide of the old horse, he returned to the place where he had left him. But, to his surprise, the white stallion was gone. That night, as The Traveler slept, he had a dream. The white stallion appeared to him, and slowly turned into a beautiful horse, shining white, with long mane and tail – a horse more lovely than any The Traveler had ever seen.

Then the Stallion spoke: “If you had treated me kindly,” the stallion said, “I would have brought you more horses. You were cruel to me, so I shall take away the horses you have!”

When The Traveler awoke, he found his horses were gone. All that day, he walked and searched, but when at nightfall he fell asleep exhausted, he had found no trace of them. In his dreams, the White Stallion came again, and said, “Do you wish to find your horses? They are north, by a lake. You will sleep twice, before you come to it.”

As soon as he awakened in the morning, The Traveler hastened northward. Two days’ journey, and when he came to the lake there were no horses. That night, the Ghost Stallion came again. “Do you wish to find your horses?” he said. “They are east, in some hills. There will be two sleeps before you came to the place.’

When the sun had gone down on the third day, The Traveler had searched the hills, but had found no horses. And so it went night after night the Stallion came to The Traveler, directing him to some distant spot, but he never found his horses. He grew thin, and foots sore. Sometimes he got a horse from some friendly camp; sometimes he stole one, in the night. But always, before morning, would come a loud drumming of hoofs, the Ghost Stallion and his band would gallop by, and the horse of The Traveler would break its picket, and go with them.

And never again did he have a horse; never again did he see his own lodge. And he wanders, even to this day, the old men say, still searching for his lost horses.

Sometimes, they say, on a windy autumn night when the stars shine very clearly, and over on the Cree Jump the coyote’s howl, above the wind you may hear a rush of running horses, and the stumbling footsteps of an old man. And, if you are very unlucky, you may see the Stallion and his band, and The Traveler, still pursuing them, still trying to get back his beautiful horses.

http://www.indigenouspeople.net/stallion.htm

A story of the Chickasaw People of Oklahoma

A brave, young warrior of the Chickasaw Nation fell in love with the daughter of a chief. The chief did not like the young man, who was called Blue Jay. So the chief invented a price for the bride that he was sure that Blue Jay could not pay.

“Bring me the hide of the white deer,” said the chief. The Chickasaws believed that animals that were all-white were magical. “The price for my daughter is one white deer.” Then the chief laughed. The chief knew that an all-white deer, an albino, was very rare and would be very hard to find. White deerskin was the best material to use in a wedding dress, and the best white deer skin came from the albino deer.

Blue Jay went to his beloved, whose name was Bright Moon. “I will return with your bride price in one moon, and we will be married. This I promise you.” Taking his best bow and his sharpest arrows, Blue Jay began to hunt.

Three weeks went by, and Blue Jay was often hungry, lonely, and scratched by briars. Then, one night during a full moon, Blue Jay saw a white deer that seemed to drift through the moonlight. When the deer was very close to where Blue Jay hid, he shot his sharpest arrow. The arrow sank deep into the deer’s heart. But instead of sinking to his knees to die, the deer began to run. And instead of running away, the deer began to run toward Blue Jay, his red eyes glowing, his horns sharp and menacing. A month passed and Blue Jay did not return as he had promised Bright Moon. As the months dragged by, the tribe decided that he would never return. But Bright Moon never took any other young man as a husband, for she had a secret. When the moon was shining as brightly as her name. Bright Moon would often see the white deer in the smoke of the campfire, running, with an arrow in his heart. She lived hoping the deer would finally fall, and Blue Jay would return. To this day the white deer is sacred to the Chickasaw People, and the white deerskin is still the favorite material for the wedding dress.

http://www.ilhawaii.net/~stony/lore128.html

. A young man lived in a village with his wife whom he loved so much that there was nothing he would not do for her. One day she fell ill and her condition rapidly deteriorated despite the treatment of many wâkdocewe (physicians). Finally, he called a very wákâtcâk man, blessed with many curative powers, to see what he could do. Even though he exerted himself mightily, he was powerless to reverse her decline, and she died. That night they held the Ghost Lighting Rites (Wanághadajáhira) to light her way to Spiritland. He was much respected by the people, so everyone showed up for each of the Four Slumbers. After games were played in her honor, everyone went home.

However, the man could not accept the parting of his wife, and prepared for a journey to the west, as that is the direction that they say souls (wanâghi) take after death. So he set out the next morning in pursuit of his wife, traveling long and hard toward the setting sun until finally he became so fatigued that he had to use a cane. In time he became exhausted and fell to his hands and knees. Even so he did not give up, but began crawling westward. Soon his knees became so badly skinned that he tied basswood bark around them. In the distance he saw a little knoll surrounded by very beautiful country. He thought to himself, “If I could only make it to the top of that knoll, I would be content to die there.” So he struggled mightily, and finally having reached the summit, rolled over on his back exhausted. There he waited for death to overtake him. When he closed his eyes, unexpectedly, he heard a voice which said, “Let’s go home. This is where I live.” He opened his eyes, and there before him was a man covered with what looked like hair. At first he could not get up, but when the man said, “Come on!” he jumped right up and followed the man to his lodge nearby. Once inside, the man told him, “Grandson, you are indeed pitiable, and what little I can do for you, I will certainly try my utmost to accomplish.” After they had eaten, the hairy man told him, “Grandson, keep going as you have been. You will eventually reach the lodge of my friend, but first you must jump across a wide stream. It will be difficult, grandson, but you must jump across it.” The next day he traveled far until finally he came upon the stream. Unexpectedly, it was no mere stream at all, but a raging torrent whose current swept by with such force that whirlpools and violent eddies swirled turbulently in its channel. The land on the other side was so distant that it looked like a man’s eyebrow. He did not see how any human being could jump across it, but he thought to himself all that he had suffered, and said, “I already died long ago!” He took a running start, and closing his eyes, made a blind leap. Unexpectedly, he came down on dry land. In amazement he turned around to see how he could have sailed across such an immense expanse, but the raging torrent that he thought that he had jumped was nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was a small creek in its place. It had all been an illusion. He thought to himself, “If everything that looks difficult proves this easy, then maybe I will succeed after all.” At this thought he took heart.

He went on some ways until finally he came to a round lodge. A voice from inside said, “Come in,” so he entered. There, much to his surprise, he found the very man he had talked to before, and with him was another man. They spoke to him and said, “Grandson, what you wish to accomplish will indeed be very difficult, but we will concentrate our minds upon it for you. So keep going and you will come to a lodge where our friend lives. Perhaps he will be able to tell you something that will help you.” So after he ate, he went on his way again. Finally he came to another round lodge, where he was invited inside. This time he encountered the two men he had seen before, and with them was a third. This man gave him something to eat, and then spoke to him: “What I wish to tell you is that what you are doing is indeed difficult, but exert your utmost efforts, for if you fail, you will be in a very pitiable condition,” he said. So the man went onward. Not long afterwards, he came to a hill with numerous lodges clustered about it.The village was so large that its end was lost to view. He walked into the village whose lodges were made of bark, yet it appeared to be a ghost town. He looked into several lodges, but could find no one, until at last he entered a lodge where he found four men. Three of the men were the ones with whom he had already spoken. The fourth one addressed him and said, “Grandson, it will indeed be difficult for you, but you are now at the place that you have so long sought. Just the same, you are not to look upon your wife, but you must do exactly as we instruct you, or all you have hoped for will be lost. Tonight there will be a great dance, but no matter what happens, you must not look around anywhere — just gaze straight ahead. My friends and I will do all we can for you.”

That evening, unexpectedly, he heard the sound of a drum followed by shouts from people all around the village. The drum sounded four times, and each time the shouting grew louder and more widespread. Then someone said, “It’s about to begin. It will be crowded in front of the lodge.” So the man and the four spirits went inside and took their place in the center of the lodge. They were in the dance lodge. He heard whispering behind him as someone said, “Wagisga has come in pursuit of his wife. In this he will surely fail.” Then they began to tease him: “Doesn’t he know that’s she remarried?” Another said, “Yeah, I’m the one who married her.” Then the singing began. It was indeed powerful, and his relatives gathered around him and sang about him:
Wagisga’s wife has come;
Many more still will come.

These were their words as they teased him. This went on all night, until they all disappeared with the rays of the morning sun. Despite what they had said, his wife knew nothing about his arrival in Spiritland.

Once the sun was up, Wagisga and his four helpers returned to their own lodge. His spiritual attendants were very pleased and told him, “Grandson, this night ;you have done well; but tomorrow night will be more difficult — you must exert all your powers.” That evening when they heard the drum and the shouting that followed it, Wagisga and his friends set out for the long lodge. When they arrived, immediately the teasing began. They were trying to get him to say something. Then they began their singing, and as good as it had been the night before, their singing this night was beyond compare. This night, beside teasing him mercilessly, the ghosts put their hands on him and pushed his head down. Still he did not look around even for his wife, and when morning came, the first light dispersed all the ghosts. When he got back to his lodge, his spiritual attendants were full of praise: “Grandson, you have again done well, but tonight it will be even more difficult, tonight you must exert your powers to the fullest.”

When night fell again, they heard once more the sound of the drum followed by the shouts of the ghosts. He placed himself in the center of the lodge. Even though there were now six spirits attending upon Wagisga, they could do nothing for him as the ghosts teased him endlessly. Now the singing began, and the earth seemed to shake from the sounds of the drum. He could hardly resist the temptation to join in. The ghosts tugged at his blanket and fell down beside him, but despite all, he held on to the first rays of the sun. As the light fell upon them, the ghosts seemed to evaporate. When he got back to the lodge where he was staying, there were now eight spirits. One said, “Grandson, tonight will be the last night, and although there are now eight of us, still we will not be able to help you unless you exert all your power.”

That night the drum sounded and the shouting was so strong that it seemed to fill the heavens. “Let’s go,” said the spirits, “as the lodge will be crowded.” He noticed immediately that the village had grown a bit, as during this time all those who had died had arrived there. The lodge was so crowded that they had to squeeze their way in. Amid the teasing that followed his arrival, unexpectedly, he heard the voice of his wife asking him, “If you were going to ignore me, then why did you come after me?” She said this twice, and he almost turned to look at her. Now the world itself seemed to resonate with the beat of the drum and the voices seemed to fill the heavens. This time they grabbed his blanket and dragged him along. His wife led them in this. He tried to stay wrapped in his blanket, but the ghosts nearly pulled it off of him more than once. They began to pile on him, and treated his eight attendants as if they did not exist. He became tired and weak. Soon the ghosts were grabbing him by the knees and dragging him around. Just the same, he resisted, and with the coming of day, the light dispersed the ghosts. The attendants said, “Well done, Grandson! You have attained your objective.” When they returned to the lodge at which they were staying, one of the spirits spoke to him and said, “Grandson, from now on what you have achieved will not be permitted. Earthmaker has not ordained that it should be so, but through our blessings you have attained it, you have won back your wife.” Then he turned to one of the other spirits and said, “Go get his wife for him!” They brought her to him, and the spirit spoke again: “Grandson, I have blessed you, and with this too I bless you: a thing that may be heard over the whole earth.” And he handed the couple a drum painted with blue earth. The spirit told him furthermore, “If a person is near death and his soul is about to leave, play this drum and his soul will not depart from you. Offer me tobacco and I will grant you this. The ghosts are bad, and will chase after you — but here is a handful of ashes, and should they get near, toss some ashes behind you. When you get home, have them build a lodge for you.”

So Wagisga and his wife with eight attendants set out whence he had come. Soon the ghosts began to chase after them, crying out, “Wagisga has stolen our wife, let’s get her back!” When they got close, Wagisga threw the ashes over his shoulder. The ghosts yelled, “Fall back! The ashes will ruin our clothes!” After this, they were able to get free of their pursuers, but eventually the ghosts caught up to them again , only to have more ashes thrown at them. This time they gave up. Once the ghosts had turned back, the attendants also went back, leaving the couple to go forth on their own. Soon they were near their village. In the distance they could hear the echoes from someone chopping wood, so they went in the direction of the noise. When they arrived, unexpectedly, there a woman was crying as she chopped wood. It was Wagisga’s mother. When she saw him, she was overjoyed, but then she recognized that he was in the company of a t’ijâ (one who is dead). He then told his mother, “Go get ten young men and ten young women, all of whom must be virgins. Have them bring some incense with them.” She ran back to the village and told the people what had happened, and returned with the twenty virgins and many others besides. He instructed them to build a lodge with ten fireplaces, and when it was done they entered and sprinkled the place with incense. That night the drums were brought in and a dance was given. Wagisga sung the special songs he had been taught for the occasion.

Even to this day they beat the drum for this rite. It is a wákâtcâk (holy) rite, and great is the noise of it. Wagisga is he who founded the rite, and because of his achievement, it is called the Wanâghí Waci (Ghost Dance).

John Baptiste, “The Man who Brought His Wife back from Spiritland,” in Paul Radin, The Culture of the Winnebago as Described by Themselves (Baltimore: Special Publications of the Bollingen Foundation, #1, 1949) 47-65. This story is discussed in Claude Lévi-Strauss, “Four Winnebago Myths,” Structural Anthropology, vol. 2, trs. Monique Layton (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1976) 198-210