Olelo. . .red and yellow uli’uli’s shaking, feathers colliding with sand. . .firm chants, hand movements, rigid legs sliding, moving side to side, honoring those who have been wiped away by the earth’s dust and mud. . .A storm fatally destroys an island chain and brings disease and death for everyone. . . 100% blood. . .native roots infested by poisonous trees. . . not planted to protect but planted to ruin. . .ravaging and tearing through remains of what it hasn’t captured. . . hula, language, Ohana. . .changes from way of life to away with life. Quiet. . .shhhh. . .do not use the ancient tongue they may hear you. . .Call on Ku and Lono. . .summon the beings from which we derived. . .the wa’a brought us a long way and to forget we came from a long way is denying we press forward. Strength and power brings us to a realm where the 1950s no longer exists. . .a movement to bring back and teach who we are. . .The storm hasn’t gone away. . .owned by money. . .we fight for “no development”. . .our voices are pushed away because the presence of 100% blood has diminished drastically over several centuries. . .we once conquered the biggest waves, we now strive to conquer our identity as a people with passion. . .we carry on Kalakaua by not letting the storm completely erase us. . .we have plowed through destruction only to recognize amongst ourselves our need for our lahui to thrive in a country so polluted by a storm designed to complete their genocide. . .as we flow through the trade winds reminding those we still have a place. . .before the storm succeeds in washing us all away. . .