Hanapepe | Images of Old Hawaiʻi

In Hawaiʻi, shortage of laborers to work in the growing (in size and number) sugar plantations became a challenge. Starting in the 1850s, when the Hawaiian Legislature passed “An Act for the Governance of Masters and Servants,” a section of which provided the legal basis for contract-labor system, labor shortages were eased by bringing in contract workers from Asia, Europe and North America.

Of the large level of plantation worker immigration, the Chinese were the first (1850,) followed by the Japanese (1885.) After the turn of the century, the plantations started bringing in Filipinos. Over the years in successive waves of immigration, the Sugar Planters (HSPA_)brought to Hawaiʻi 46,000-Chinese, 180,000-Japanese, 126,000-Filipinos, as well as Portuguese, Puerto Ricans and other ethnic groups.

Upon arrival in Hawaiʻi, Filipino contract laborers were assigned to the HSPA-affiliated plantations throughout the territory. Their lives would now come under the dictates of the plantation bosses. They had no choice as to which plantation or island they would be assigned. Men from the same families, the same towns or provinces were often broken up and separated. (Alegado)

Between 1906 and 1930, the HSPA brought in approximately 126,000-Filipinos to Hawaiʻi, dramatically altering the territory’s ethnic demographics. Comprising only 19-percent of the plantation workforce in 1917, the Filipinos jumped to 70-percent by 1930, replacing the Japanese, who had dwindled to 19-percent as the 1930s approached. (Aquino)

The end of World War I was a time of crisis for labor in general – the economy had to accommodate two-million soldiers seeking civilian jobs – and, the US Supreme Court issued rulings which were unfavorable to labor. Never-the-less, “There seems to be some sort of strike in every city, town and hamlet in the country.” (Poindexter, Advertiser, October 28, 1919; Alcantara)

In Hawaiʻi, the Japanese abandoned unionism altogether with the failure of the 1920 strike; Filipinos, led by Pablo Manlapit, continued to organize and also form the Higher Wages Movement.

The Movement petitioned the Sugar Planters in 1923 for a $2-a-day, 40-hour work week and an end to abuses. Then, in April 1924, Filipino plantation workers went on strike. Rather than a unified Filipino effort, it turned into a Visayan versus Ilocano conflict (the plantations brought Ilocanos in as strike breakers.) (Alegado)

The strike of 1924 occurred over a period of approximately five months from April through September. It consisted of loosely coordinated strike actions on Oʻahu, Kauai, Maui and the Big Island under the general direction of the Executive Committee of the Higher Wages Movement involving a few thousand strikers at 23 of Hawai‘i’s 45 plantations, with just four of Kaua‘i’s 11 plantations represented: McBryde, Makaweli, Makee and Līhuʻe. (Kerkvliet)

On September 8, 1924, two Ilocano Filipinos, Marcelo Lusiano and Alipio Ramel (each about 18-years old from the Makaweli plantation,) rode into Hanapēpē on their bicycles to buy a pair of $4 shoes. (Hill)

Filipino laborers earned approximately $20 to $25 a month, and would spend about one-fourth of their wages on food and an additional $2 to wash their clothes. They sent much of the remaining money to relatives in the Philippines.

On their way back to the plantation, Lusiano and Ramel passed the strike headquarters, where they were apparently attacked by Visayan strikers and held inside the schoolhouse against their will. When friends of the young men realized they were missing, they reported them to the Kauai sheriffs. (Hill)

“(T)he men were kidnaped by strikers and held prisoner at a Japanese school house at Hanapēpē. They said they were attacked by strikers and intimidated into declaring that they would join the strikers.” (Honolulu Times, September 12, 1924)

The next day, strikers and police clashed at a strike camp in Hanapēpē. About 40-armed police had gone to pick up the two Ilocanos at the strike camp, believing them to be prisoners of the strikers. (hawaii-edu)

The two men were released and were leaving the school grounds with Deputy Sheriff William Crowell when some strikers began following and taunting them, waving their cane knives in the air threateningly. The sharpshooters fired upon the strikers when they saw the men try to attack Crowell. (Hill)

“The policemen drew out their revolvers and I heard one saying that they should be quiet otherwise they would be pacified with their revolvers to which strikers answered that they should go ahead.”

“Later on we heard a shot quite far from us. I cannot ascertain whose shot it was, if it came from the police side or the striker’s side, but I was sure it was quite far from us behind.” (Lusiano; Honolulu Times, September 12 ,1924)

In the end, 16 strikers were shot dead; four sheriffs suffered casualties as a result of stab wounds and 25 were reported wounded. (Hill)

“When I heard the shooting, I began to run … I didn’t even have a knife. I had nothing to defend myself with. There were others who had guns, but they only had two bullets. They were courageous, they were acting tough … They’re the ones who died. I’m a coward. Those who ran away, they didn’t die.” (Bakiano; hawaii-edu)

The incident has been referred to the Hanapēpē Massacre; it was the bloodiest incident in the history of labor in Hawaiʻi. (Alegado)

Most of the strikers were arrested; seventy-six were indicted on riot charges, 60 received 4-year sentences. Some returned to work afterward; some were deported back to the Philippines. Nobody was charged with murder. (Hill, Alegado)

Manlapit was convicted of conspiracy and received a two- to 10-year sentence at O‘ahu Prison, but was paroled in 1927 on the condition he leave the Islands. He moved to California, but returned to Hawai‘i in 1933 and returned to the Philippines in 1934. (Soboleski)

In 2006, a plaque was placed in the Hanapēpē Town Park to commemorate the Hanapepe Massacre of 1924.

Native Hawaiians used pa‘akai (sea salt or, literally, “to solidify the sea”) to season and preserve food, for religious and ceremonial purposes, and as medicine.

Preserving food like i‘a (fish) and he‘e (octopus) was essential not just for storage on land, but also to provide nourishment during ocean voyages.

In Hawai‘i, sea salt can be collected from rocky shoreline pools, were it occurs as a result of natural solar evaporation. Native Hawaiians also harvested sea salt on a larger scale through the use of man-made shallow clay ponds.

The Hanapepe Salt Pond area has been used since ancient times for the production of salt for food seasoning and preservation.

Every summer, the families of this region gather to build their “pans” to prepare salt for the next year. The earthen pans impart a distinct red hue and flavor to the salt.

Pa‘akai from the Hanapepe Salt Ponds is created by accessing underground saltwater from a deep ancient source through wells and transferring the saltwater to shallow pools called wai kū, then into salt pans that are shaped carefully with clay from the area.

The farms near Hanapepe are one of only two remaining major areas in the Islands where natural sea salt is still harvested; the other spot is on the Big Island at Pu‘uhonua o Honaunau.

But the unique red salt, called ‘alaea salt, is produced only on Kaua‘i.

This type of salt-making is unique and authentic, and harvested traditional Hawaiian sea salt mixed with ‘alaea, a form of red dirt from Wailua, is used for traditional Hawaiian ceremonies to cleanse, purify and bless, as well as healing rituals for medicinal purposes.

It was a crucial commodity for Hawai‘i’s early post-contact economy; visiting ships, especially the whaling ships, needed the salt for food preservation.

Today, the Hanapepe fields operate under that concept of communal stewardship; the salt may be given or traded, but not sold.

The harvest season is in the height of summer, when the waves are calm and rain scarce.

The first task in making salt is to work on maintaining the salt beds, smoothing wet mud over the walls of the beds, filling cracks and reinforcing the structure of these holding beds; this can take up to a week.

The punawai (feed water wells) are cleaned of leaves and debris, so that only the purest sea water enters the rectangular holding tanks called wai kū, literally “water standing.”

The brine is left in the wai kū to evaporate, which can take up to ten days depending on the afternoon rains.

When the water in the wai kū turns frothy white and crystals form on its surface, the harvester gently pours it into the lo‘i.

For several weeks, a rotation of new water, sunshine and evaporation continues until a slushy layer of snow-white salt forms.

The salt is harvested by slowly and carefully raking the large, flat crystalline flakes of salt from the base of the bed, and transferring them to a basket.

The salt is then dipped in buckets of fresh water to rinse off the mud, and remove rocks, chunks of dirt and other debris.

With each immersion into the water, the salt flakes change shape, beginning to resemble large grains of what one would recognize as table salt. The salt is drained and left to dry in the sun for four to six weeks.

Depending on conditions, a family may complete three harvests in a season, yielding as much as 200 pounds of salt. Like wine, time is generous to salt; it mellows and gains character as it ages (older salt is smoother.)

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