Legends of Old Honolulu (Mythology) Collected and Translated from the Hawaiian — Context and Discussion

Diction and the Translation of Hawaiian Terms

Westervelt's English rendering frequently retains Hawaiian words without glossing them in the immediate text, trusting the reader to infer meaning from context. In the tale of Iwa, the phrase 'green-sided pali' appears without explanation, while in the rat-killer story, aikane is defined parenthetically as 'bosom friend.' This technique creates a texture of foreignness that signals the original language's presence. The foreword uses the Hawaiian greeting 'Aloha!' as a closing, embedding cultural expression into the paratext. Westervelt also includes chants and incantations, such as the names of the rat-sister gods—'Bow-of-the-heaven,' 'Bow-of-the-earth'—which are translated literally, preserving the poetic structure of the original naming. These choices indicate a translator who prioritizes fidelity to the source over seamless readability, inviting the reader to engage with Hawaiian linguistic patterns.

Voice and the Role of the Narrator

The narrative voice in these legends is often detached yet invested in the action. In the Iwa episode, the narrator reports events with minimal commentary: 'Iwa lay down to sleep while the six men quietly and swiftly passed among the people.' The tone is matter-of-fact, even when describing supernatural feats like stealing the king's tapa sheets from under him. This restraint contrasts with the foreword's more effusive language, where legends are called 'a joy and a sorrow.' The body of the text avoids such editorializing, letting the plot speak for itself. When the rat-sister gods are introduced, the narrator explains their dual nature—'they could appear as human beings or as animals'—in a straightforward, almost clinical manner. This consistency in voice suggests a deliberate choice to let the stories stand as records rather than embellished retellings.

Structure and the Use of Repetition

The legends employ repetitive structural patterns that mirror oral storytelling. In the Iwa tale, the king sets a test, Iwa appears to fail, then reverses the outcome through cunning. This three-part rhythm—challenge, apparent defeat, clever victory—recurs in other excerpts, such as the rat-killer story where the rat-sisters watch over their brother. The repetition of the phrase 'Bow-of-the-' in the six rat names creates a mnemonic cadence. Westervelt preserves these patterns without smoothing them into Western narrative conventions. The chapters themselves are short, often ending with a resolution that returns the hero to his origin, as when Iwa is sent back to Oahu 'with a double canoe filled with good things.' This circular structure reinforces the sense of a closed, self-contained mythic world.

Setting and the Specificity of Place

Place names anchor each legend in the geography of Oahu and neighboring islands. The Iwa story specifies 'the green-sided pali of the district of Koolau,' while the rat-killer tale names 'Kahaloa in Manoa Valley' and 'Kahoiwai in the upper end of the valley.' These are not generic backdrops but integral to the plot: Iwa's longing for his birthplace motivates his return, and the rat-sister Ka-ui-o-Manoa marries a chief of Manoa Valley. Westervelt includes a chapter titled 'Legendary Places in Honolulu,' indicating a systematic interest in topography. The foreword notes that the author has 'lived among them, known them intimately for thirty years,' suggesting that the settings are drawn from personal familiarity. This precision gives the legends a documentary quality, linking myth to observable landmarks.

Readers attentive to Westervelt's authorial choices will notice how his translation decisions—retaining Hawaiian terms, preserving repetitive structures, and grounding stories in specific locales—shape the experience of these myths. The collection rewards those who read slowly, allowing the foreign diction and narrative patterns to build a sense of a different storytelling tradition. Rather than a polished literary work, it offers a window into the oral culture of old Honolulu, with all its idiosyncrasies intact.

The rain drummed on the lanai that afternoon, and Westervelt’s ghosts seemed to move through the mist outside. Later, that same quiet feeling—of gods breathing close to ordinary life—stayed with me. I found myself reaching for Ancient Egyptian legends — A Closer Reading, and the weight of the Nile felt strangely familiar, like another voice from the same hush.