The Hawaiian concept all travellers should learn - no matter where they go

I’m up to my calf muscles in thick, gloopy mud.

Standing in a kalo lo’i (taro pond) on Hawai‘i’s O‘ahu, I’m pulling out weeds from each plant and smushing apple snail eggs with my bare hands, while trying not to think too hard about what other life might be in the mud - and subsequently between my toes.

Behind me, heavy mist shrouds the mountains; ridges appear beneath of the cloud, like spiny moss-covered tree roots snaking down the valley.

This taro farm is part of Kualoa Ranch, a 4000 acre nature retreat situated on the western side of O‘ahu. Established in the 1800s, the working ranch has been owned and operated by the same family ever since it was founded by Dr Gerrit Judd. Its dramatic ridgeline and dense Jurassic scenery has provided the setting and backdrop for over 200 Hollywood movies including, unsurprisingly, Jurassic Park, Kong, Jumanji and Pearl Harbour among many others and a host of television shows.

But the ranch has another, more important purpose and vision: to be a role model as stewards of the land and to protect its natural beauty.

Places like Kualoa Ranch are needed now more than ever as tourism to Hawai‘i resumes, bringing with it the burden and risk of travellers negatively impacting the environment. But visitors are being encouraged to ensure they don’t just take from the land, but instead give back and care for the land, a concept known in Hawai‘i as

“When you take care of something, they then take care of you,” says Iwi Kurosu, who runs and tends to the taro farm. “When you take care of the land, it feeds you, gives you water.”

Together with the Hawaii Tourism Authority, the Malama Hawaii programme allows guests at certain resorts to book malama experiences such as reforestation projects, tree planting, beach clean-ups or in my case, tending to taro crops.

To entice travellers, resorts will give guests a free night’s accommodation when they book a malama experience.

The majority of Kurosu’s land is a working farm, employing locals to farm the taro crops, which are harvested and sent to the local markets, as well as supplying a few high-end restaurants.

They’re also trialling growing rice to see how well the grains grow in the conditions.

The other part of the farm has an educational purpose, where school children come to learn how to plant, weed and harvest crops and maintain the grounds. When Covid hit, the lo’i had to be abandoned.

“We did a massive harvest but nothing got replanted, the water got shut off, the ponds dried up and the ponds got overgrown with guinea grass. You couldn’t make out it was a lo’i, it was fully engulfed,” says Kurosu.

“In January, the schools started booking again and I had the daunting task of getting this lo’i back to what it was to me.”

Within a few months, the lo’i were looking much healthier. “A pandemic will really open your eyes,” she says.

As well as education for kids, tourists can participate in malama experiences under Kurosu’s watchful eye. Before we begin, she sings an - a Hawaiian chant or prayer - asking permission to go into the farm and the lo’i.

The area is a sacred place for Hawaiians, so she must ask the elements, and let them know that we are there with good intentions to discover and learn.

Our first task is learning about the apple snail, an introduced species originally planned for escargot, but they are an invasive pest that lays eggs around the edges of the lo’i and eat the taro plants. The eggs look a bit like strawberries attached to side of the pond, but on closer inspection I can see dozens of individual pink eggs.

“If these were being farmed for escargot this would be gold. But these buggers hatch and eat my taro,” says Kurosu.

She shows us how to tackle the pests - picking them off, squishing them in our hands, then washing them off on the water, where they can’t hatch. The darker the pink, the newer the lay. They’re slimy in the palm of my hand, but once washed away they become fish food - the circle of life.

Kalo is a sustainable vegetable that is commonly found throughout the Pacific islands. It’s a nutritious root that can be mashed, made into chips and other meals and snacks, and is filling. Only the mother plants are harvested; each plant will make another 10 to 20 plants.

“Hawaiians only harvest what they need. You don’t take all of it,” explains Kurosu.

“As you harvest one plot you have to make room for the babies that you pick and plant again. I love it when it rains because I know my plants will be watered.”

Throughout the experience, we learn about Hawaiian culture and belief systems, such as not moving rocks without permission, even if it is blocking a waterway.

“I had to talk to the rock and why we were moving her and explain that water is being held up, and I need to feed my family, so we are going to move her to a meaningful spot,” explains Kurosu. “You don’t just move a rock without intention, you have to give it a purpose.”

She teaches about traditional, (huts), and points out plants growing on the farm and their uses. There’s the kukui nut, or candlenut, which can be a hangover cure (but also comes with a warning against over indulging - “if you eat too much kukui, you do too much poo pooey,” Kurosu jokes) - turmeric for reducing inflammation, and the ‘potato of the sky’, breadfruit.

“This is my world and I absolutely love what I do here and anyone who wants to learn I want to share my space.”

Later we head to the stream, to help Kurosu build dams. We pick up river stones and rocks that were washed away during heavy rains, and bring them back to the stream. The dams will help slow the speed of the water flow, and slow erosion.

“When you take, you always have to give back. Always leave it better than you found.”

The concept of caring for the land doesn’t stop at the resort-run malama experiences. A couple of days later, I fly to the Big Island, or the Island of Hawai‘i, where visitors to the island are encouraged to sign the ‘Pono Pledge’. The words are both powerful and beautiful.

The pledge includes heeding ocean conditions, and “never turning my back to the Pacific” as well as leaving rocks and sand as originally found, remaining out of rivers and streams during heavy rain, and embracing the aloha spirit.

The idea of giving back to a community, or regenerative tourism, is far from new. But for many travellers, it is kept in the back of their minds, and not always followed through. In Hawaii, keeps it front of mind.

It can be a tricky balance with these sorts of tourist experiences to be truly meaningful with purpose, and not just a cringe token activity to tick a cultural box.

But they also remind us of the great responsibility that as travellers, we must carry on our shoulders. If we want to travel, we must do it in a way that avoids contributing to over tourism, and not just to take without giving back.

It’s something we as New Zealanders are acutely aware of in our own country too – we want travellers to come here to spend money in local communities, but also to respect our land, our Māori traditions and culture, embrace our lifestyle and not spoil our stunning landscapes.

We’ve had a break and a reset - now it’s time to malama the lands and seas we voyage, no matter where in the world we may be.

Hawaiian Airlines flies direct Auckland to Honolulu three times a week.

Flying generates carbon emissions. To reduce your impact, consider other ways of travelling, amalgamate your trips, and when you need to fly, consider offsetting emissions. To offset your carbon emissions, head to hawaiianairlines.conservation.org.

: Check safetravel.govt.nz prior to travelling to stay updated on the latest travel advisories.