Blame it on the Hula (the Forbidden Dance)

(all.....or none....of this may actually be true)

Milli Vanilli once told us that we could blame it on the rain. According to local folklore, we can blame the rain on the, uh, hulaers. No. Hulaists? Hulaistas? people who do hula and their love for picking ohia lehua for their outfits, because picking the flowers of the ohia tree often causes rain.  It always rains a lot this time of year leading up to the festival, and more often than not it stops raining right at or just after the Merrie Monarch Festival.

And so the Merrie Monarch Festival is nigh upon us, and if I wasn't a hermit that lived in a circus tent, I'm sure I would say that the town is a-buzz in preparation and anticipation. Heck, I can almost hear the a-buzzing from up here (when the rain lets up a little). So I got to wondering about the whole thing. Who was this monarch? And what made him so "merrie," anyway? And why have a festival about him? Well, I've found that there is no one good place to find all of this information online (not even at merriemonarch.com) so I've done extensive research, a little even pertaining to the topic, and now bring to you......

.......direct from a chair on a porch.....

The Cameronomicon Presents:

(A Rainy Day Production)

"A Brief History of the Merrie Monarch Festival"

(the story you are about to read is based very very very loosely on real events)

Once upon a time, there was a group of people living on a group of islands smack-dab in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. They had a sophisticated social structure, organized agriculture, and a reasonably large population. To European and American outsiders, they may have appeared "savage" and "uncivilized," but in many ways, they were well ahead of their time. For example, from the earliest days, these people said, "Reading and writing is for suckers!"

Opponents to this school of thought said, "But what of our culture? Our history? Or geneology? Our stories and legends and folklore? If we don't write it down and teach our children to read, how will we pass this information down from generation to generation?"

This caused much debate and concern among the people until one day a forward-thinking man stood and said, "Go sctrach pictures on the rocks if you want to. I'm going to hire actors to simply portray the stories we need to pass down. I'll call it....'hu'-something......I don't know, 'hula'.....sure! I'll call it 'hula', and when I'm too busy to tell the stories to my kids myself, I'll just plop them down in front of the hula for a few hours so I can keep working or hang out with my buddies or something."

And thus, hula was born. It was widely received and soon became the principle source of information and entertainment in the islands.

Of course, like any other visual media in human history, the producers eventually discovered the two elements that made certain stories more popular than others: sex and violence. Once that formula was nailed down, hula ratings soared.

Now, flash-forward to the 1830's. Everything's going pretty well, hula viewership is at an all-time high, and everyone is happy. And who should show up? The ultimate buzz-kill: the Puritans. They arrive, uninvited, with their bibles in one hand and their witch-burning stakes in the other, looking to save these "savages" from the eternal pit of damnation or something. Of course, one look at the hula with all of its sex and violence, and Goody Stevens said, "That ain't right."

All in agreement, the Puritans got together to discuss strategy. They realized that if they tried to stop the hula themselves, they'd soon have an uprising on their hands, and they didn't bring enough stakes to burn everyone. It was agreed that this was poor planning on their part, and the person deemed responsible for bringing enough witch-burning stakes was promptly burned at the stake as a witch. After the smoke cleared, they decided to take a more surgical approach and focus all of their holy conversion powers on the king. If they could convert the king, then he could officially outlaw the hula within the existing system, and any uprising would be a native issue, and the Puritans would not only be relatively free of blame, but would also have more than enough stakes left over for their next stop: Tahiti.

Their plan went off without a hitch, and hula was forbidden forever.

Flash-forward again to the 1870's.  The islands are constantly subject to more and more European and American influence.  The hula is still forbidden.  Much, if not all, of the original Hawai'ian culture is on the verge of being lost forever.  One day, in rolls this guy Kalākaua.  He's cruising around in his VW Beetle, in complete disbelief that hula is not allowed here.  Of course, the entire community, led by John Lithgow, is very leery and expects this guy to be trouble.  Fortunately, John Lithgow's own daughter falls in love with Kalākaua, and after several song-and-dance scenes and one game of chicken on tractors (and, incredibly, two Oscar nominations), John Lithgow finally concedes that the ban on Hula is irrational and should be repealed.

The people were so overjoyed that they elected Kalākaua as king, and because of his love and promotion of hula, surfing, and other traditional Hawai'ian pleasures, was given the nickname "the Merrie Monarch."

Almost 100 years later, George Na'ope and Dorothy "Auntie Dottie" Thompson started the Merrie Monarch Festival as a celebration of Hawai'an culture and tradition.  The festival has grown to receive international  acclaim as the premiere hula event in the world.

For more info about the event itself, check out www.merriemonarch.com