A myth is a purely imaginative story. A legend is a story with some
foundation in fact. A fable tacks on a moral. A tradition is a myth or
legend or fact handed down from generation to generation.
The old Hawaiians were frequently myth makers. They imagined many a
fairy-story for the different localities of the islands, and these are
very interesting. The myth of the two taro plants belongs to South Kona,
Hawaii, and affords an excellent illustration of Hawaiian imagination.
The story is told in different ways, and came to the writer in the
present form:
A chief lived on the mountain-side above Hookena. There his people
cultivated taro, made kapa cloth, and prepared the trunks of koa-trees
for canoes. He had a very fine taro patch. The plants prided themselves
upon their rapid and perfect growth.
In one part of the taro pond, side by side, grew two taro plants--finer,
stronger, and more beautiful than the others. The leaf stalks bent over
in more perfect curves: the leaves developed in graceful proportions.
Mutual admiration filled the hearts of the two taro plants and resulted
in pledges of undying affection.
One day the chief was talking to his servants about the food to be made
ready for a feast. He ordered the two especially fine taro plants to be
pulled up. One of the servants came to the home of the two lovers and
told them that they were to be taken by the chief.
Because of their great affection for each other they determined to cling
to life as long as possible, and therefore moved to another part of the
taro patch, leaving their neighbors to be pulled up instead of
themselves.
But the chief soon saw them in their new home and again ordered their
destruction. Again they fled. This happened from time to time until the
angry chief determined that they should be taken, no matter what part of
the pond they might be in.
The two taro plants thought best to flee, therefore took to themselves
wings and made a short flight to a neighboring taro patch. Here again
their enemy found them. A second flight was made to another part of
South Kona, and then to still another, until all Kona was interested in
the perpetual pursuit and the perpetual escape. At last there was no
part of Kona in which they could be concealed. A friend of the angry
chief would reveal their hiding-place, while one of their own friends
would give warning of the coming of their pursuer. At last they leaped
into the air and flew on and on until they were utterly weary and fell
into a taro patch near Waiohinu. But their chief had ordered the imu
(cooking-place) to be made ready for them, and had hastened along the
way on foot, trying to capture them if at any time they should try to
light. However, their wings moved more swiftly than his feet, so they
had a little rest before he came near to their new home. Then again they
lifted themselves into the sky. Favoring winds carried them along and
they flew a great distance away from South Kona into the neighboring
district of Kau. Here they found a new home under a kindly chief. Here
they settled down and lived many years under the name of Kalo-eke-eke,
or "The Timid Taro." A large family grew up about them and a happy old
age blessed their declining days.
It is possible that this beautiful little story may have grown out of
the ancient Hawaiian unwritten law which sometimes permitted the
subjects of a chief to move away from their home and transfer their
allegiance to some neighboring ruler.
[Illustration: FROM A TARO PATCH]
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