For Hawaiians, the gourd was said to be compared to the world. In 1838, in Hawaiian Antiquities: Mo'olele Hawai'i, David Malo wrote: "The seeds of the gourd, when scattered through the sky, become stars, and the pulpy mass inside the clouds, the cover be likened to the solid dome of heaven, ka lani. "An accurate metaphor, as gourds did indeed play a significant
part in many elements of Hawaiian culture. They were considered so precious that individual gourd fruits were named after ancestors with the belief it would prevent theft; one's shadow was not allowed to fall on the vine's flower, which was considered to be the physical form of Lono, god of agriculture.
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From bowls to medicine to canoe bailers, the gourd was traditionally a useful tool, but perhaps its most significant use was the gourd as ipu, or drum. This sacred cultural element is being perpetuated in South Kona on the Big Island, where gourd vines reach like tentacles across the ground weaving over the earth on a family-run, organic farm. From the seed through the drying process, it takes about one year for the gourd to transform into ipu, a Hawaiian drum used during hula and other sacred ceremonies.
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Nearly 2,500 miles across the Pacific lies another gourd farm. Like its Hawaiian counterpart, this one also grows on native land, but this one is on a San Diego County Indian reservation. Here, they are called halma and also play an integral part in Native American ceremonies and culture. "The gourds are used for sacred songs in both the Native American and Native Hawaiian cultures," explains Native American Kalim Smith, trans-Pacific gourd farmer and ipu artisan. "The ipu is a gourd of importance to both of our families." The cross- cultural significance of the gourds were fused together when Smith married Landa Ku'ulelaloha Hopkins, a Native Hawaiian from a family with deep roots in ipu making on the Big Island.
Smith says he has been cultivating gourds for about 15 years on Native American lands, but it wasn't until a family member expressed she was having trouble with her crop that he decided to give gourd farming on the Big Island a try. "We were asked by my wife's great aunt in Waimea, kumu hula [teacher] Donna Mae Jensen, to grow and make ipu for hula," recalls Smith, who learned his craft from Jensen and other elder family members. "It's because of how talented they were that I've learned to make ipu. When you have such good teachers, you put out a good product."
Because invasive species introduced after Western contact with Hawai'i have taken a huge toll on local gourd crops, most ipu used in the islands today are grown in Arizona or California. In light of the delicate nature of the vines, Smith says they're "testing out a lot of different areas" to see where they fare best. The family's farms in both California and Hawai'i produce gourds used for two types of drums. The ipu heke is a double ipu made by taking two gourds of different sizes, cutting them and joining them at the necks with the smaller one on top. Ipu heke are most frequently associated with the hula kahiko, traditional hula accompanied by chanting and drums. Smith also creates ipu heke 'ole, which consists of one gourd cut across the top and is often used in hula 'auana, modern hula that evolved after Western influence where instruments such as the 'ukulele and bass accompany the ipu.
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With the help of ipu-making knowledge and guidance from family, combined with his personal cultural connection to the gourds, Smith's ipu have gained recognition as quality instruments. In 2010, the family was invited to the Merrie Monarch Invitational Craft Fair as cultural demonstrators. That same year kumu hula and musician Keali'i Reichel and Halau Ke'alaokamaile took first place honors in the Merrie Monarch Hula Competition in women's hula while using an ipu heke crafted by Smith.
Smith continues to travel between both homes in Hawai'i and California to craft ipu, a process that's changed slightly since an accident in mid-2011 left him unable to use his legs. After months spent recovering in the hospital, Smith came home, just two days before the couple's first child was born. Though Smith says his craft hasn't been drastically changed, he acknowledges, "It's been an adjustment. It just takes a little bit longer." Like a gourd vine, Smith's craft, which he calls an "accidental business," continues to reach out to new areas. In March, their ipu will be featured in an art show at the Volcano Gallery in Volcano Village. They're also returning to the Merrie Monarch in April. By teaching gourd farming and educating schools and hula halau on ipu making, the couple is working to share tradition with other families and future generations.
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"Right now we're growing ipu with other families at three different sites," says Smith. "We want to help families on the reservation and not only share the culture, but help them benefit from it." Looking back on the journey and towards the future of the craft, Smith sums it up. "It's a family thing."
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