The Long Journeys Home. Nick Bellantoni

black rock and dense vegetation, they quickly escaped inland and upland, seeking refuge from the carnage.

      Finding a small lava tube cave in the higher elevations, they concealed themselves for many days until hunger and thirst sent them on a quest for water at a nearby stream. As they quenched their parched, dehydrated throats, a war party of the enemy surprised them, capturing Kamoho‘ula and the young boys while Keau, hoping the warriors would chase after him, was swift enough to escape.

      To entice Keau from his nearby hiding place, the warriors began torturing their captives, knowing that the cries of his wife and children would bring the father/husband/warrior out of his concealment. And it did, though his initial efforts to free his family were unsuccessful, forcing Keau to flee a second time. The torture continued; with the cries of his family unbearable and their suffering intolerable, Keau made another futile attempt to rescue them, only this time to be captured.

      Huddled together on the ground, Keau attempted to protect Kamoho‘ula by encompassing her with his arms and body, while a warrior’s leiomanō, a sharp-edged, shark-toothed sword, slashed away at them.³³ ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia watched in horrid disbelief as the assailants cleaved unrelentingly at his parents until they were brutally dismembered; heads decapitated; arms and legs severed. Panic-stricken, in shock, the urge for survival took hold. As his parents’ blood splattered his body, ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia gathered his infant brother, slung him over his back, and fled. His freedom was short-lived. A warrior’s pāhoa, or two-edged spear, impaled his infant brother, killing the newborn and toppling ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia to the ground. He was the lone family survivor of the torture and brutal onslaught.

      With the blood of his parents and brother soaking into his skin, the boy was wrestled and subdued to the ground by the warriors. Being young and posing no threat to the enemy, ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia was hauled away as a prisoner of war while the corpses of his mother, father, and brother lay behind, exposed on the ground for feral pigs to consume. Despondent, the abducted ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia was coerced into serving as the personal servant of the warrior who mutilated his parents, compelled to submit and live in the household of the murderer of his family.³⁴

      Big Island of Hawaii highlighting places associated with ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia.

      ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia was born in the shoreline village of Nīnole, in the District of Ka‘ū, near Punalu‘u along the southern coast of the Big Island of Hawai‘i, circa 1787–1792, though it may have been as early as 1785.³⁵ ‘“Opū-kaha-‘ia” translates as “stomach cut open” and may suggest a caesarian delivery, a birthing technique that would have been unknown at that time and highly unlikely since his mother survived and had another child.³⁶ Some have suggested that the name may have been bestowed in the tradition of inoa ho‘omana‘o to commemorate the event of a slain, dismembered royal person, maybe a chief during battle. However, ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia related a story to Thomas Hopu while they were sailing the Pacific Ocean onboard the Triumph: that he had received his name when a woman in his village died during childbirth. Her husband immediately cut open her stomach to save the infant and “ ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia” was chosen as his namesake in honor of the event.³⁷

      He was descended from a family of Hilo chiefs on his mother’s side, distant kin to Kamehameha.³⁸ He was not a commoner, though not considered royalty; his pedigree derived from noble family lines in Maui and the Big Island.³⁹ His childhood would have been as any traditional Hawaiian boy, predominately ‘ohana-centered, working together and sharing all aspects of social life from the physical land, food, and shelter to the spirit of Aloha. He would have had a far wider range of behavioral freedom than his restricted European/American counterparts since traditional Hawaiians raised their children in a far more relaxed and less constrained manner.

      ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia was nurtured by his parents and kūpuna (grandparents) residing in the same household. As he developed into boyhood, his grandfather carved a wooden bowl into which ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia would place a small stone as a form of confession if his behavior were not up to the family’s standard. He did this voluntarily when he knew he had disobeyed or was amiss in his actions. He did not have to be told. He would not lie or deceive his ‘ohana kinsman for they were his entire world.

      ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia’s education came from elders whom he venerated. He learned from his father how to fish, run swiftly among large lava boulders, dive, and swim strongly into the tide; his grandfather taught the cultural ways of Hawaiian traditions through storytelling, especially the family’s complex genealogy which defined their place in society. He developed into a resilient, intelligent boy with a sense of humor that was often entertaining, especially when he mimicked personal characteristics of family and village members. Great Aloha existed within this tightly bonded family, but dreadfully “Great Aloha” was broken by the warrior’s sword, which yielded death and captivity.

      In preparation for ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia’s archaeological disinterment, I made arrangements to meet with Cornwall Cemetery sexton John O’Donnell to consider the logistics of the undertaking. John was a burly, muscular, no-nonsense caretaker who wanted this exhumation to be conducted properly. Meeting at the cemetery entrance, we drove to a prominent hill in the southeastern section where the earliest graves were located. I walked out ahead of John, ascending a relatively steep slope of manicured lawn, studying late 18^th and early 19^th century tombstones delineating long-standing, prominent Anglo-Saxon names in the community. A small, damaged tombstone, having toppled over and lying on the ground, caught my eye. It was dedicated to Thomas Hammatah Patoo, a native of the Marquesas Islands who studied at the Foreign Mission School and died in Cornwall five years after ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia.⁴⁰ I continued my search for a similarly deteriorated vertical or horizontal headstone engraved with the name “Obookiah” but could find none. At last, John joined me and silently motioned to follow him further up the hill.

      ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia’s burial monument, Cornwall Center Cemetery, Cornwall, CT. (Courtesy of Bill Keegan).

      As we ascended the steep slope, John was advancing straight toward a rectangular stone table. The platform, composed of granite boulders, some the size of basketballs, was positioned on the incline of the hill so that the top of the table at the upper (head) end toward the west was less than a foot off the ground, but almost two feet at the downslope eastern (foot) end, leveled to balance the precipitous embankment. Lying face-up on the table was a beautifully carved, white marble tombstone with shell beads, pineapple, coins, candy, and other trinkets placed on top. Though the stone’s engraving was darkened by years of acid rain, the epitaph was still legible. The sizeable lettering at the head of the stone read:

       In Memory ofHENRY OBOOKIAHA Native ofOWHYEE

      When I queried John concerning the beads, food, and money, he acknowledged that visiting Hawaiians often made pilgrimage to Cornwall specifically to pay their respects to ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia, their countryman who never came home. In tribute they frequently placed offerings on his memorial. I was dumbstruck. Expecting a timeworn vertical fieldstone marking the grave, I was unprepared to find a raised-stone pedestal usually reserved in historic New England cemeteries for the most elite members of the community, mainly ministers, and totally unheard of for a man of color. I certainly did not anticipate a place of pilgrimage, a shrine.

      ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia, now a prisoner of war, was compelled to serve and reside with the warrior who murdered his parents and brother.⁴¹ He was taken to his captor’s home at Kohala,⁴² birthplace of Kamehameha and the northern point of the Island of Hawai‘i, the geographic opposite from ‘Opukaha‘ia’s home village at the southern extent. At the onset of his altered life, he suffered the constant anguish of survivor’s guilt. If only the pāhoa that impaled his infant brother had penetrated deeper,