The roots of malama run deep. Hawaii is the most isolated archipelago on Earth, a volcanic cluster of eight main islands, marooned 2,390 miles south-west of California. Centuries before mass tourism, Hawaiians thrived under a sustainable resource management system. Mālama ‘āina (caring for the land) has always been a deeply ingrained Hawaiian value. In fact, Mālama ‘āina was the law of the land before mass tourism.
The Waipā Foundation headquarters; a nonprofit on Kaua’i’s lush North Shore is dedicated to land conservation and reviving traditional agricultural practices. “Living on these distant islands meant we had to be self-sufficient and understand our environment,” explains Waipā’s guide, Kelsey Ke’alohilani Rogers. “The Western world was different – it just conquered and took what it needed.”
Now, generations after Hawaii became a U.S. state in 1959, and the subsequent rise of jet travel propelled this “Paradise of the Pacific” to become a major tourist destination, many Hawaiians and local residents believe a return to the islands’ traditional ways is long overdue.
“Mālama today is more vital than ever,” Rogers said. “Too many tourists trample over our land, ignoring restrictions and damaging sensitive ecosystem. She tells them, “Don’t just think Hawaii is beautiful, help keep it that way. It’s a shared responsibility. Mālama isn’t about seeing or appreciating a landscape; it invites visitors to connect and contribute to it, with the idea that caring for a place fosters a stronger relationship with it. Most tourists leave never knowing anything about our culture,” she continued. “Despite what many think, it’s not just about going to a lū’au or surfing.”
Common Ground, a regenerative farm on Kaua’s’s North Shore that was once a sugar plantation, encourages mālama ‘āina. “Monoculture plantations like sugar were run by big companies that came to our islands, stripped the soil bare, and then left,” our guide, Sophia Reinheimer, explained. But this farm is different: here, the soil is nurtured through regenerative practices, such as planting diverse crops rather than just one. All of the ingredients used in the food served come from Kaua’i – either grown on the farm itself or sourced from nearby producers. That’s rare in Hawaii, where 90% of the food is imported.
“Mālama also means eating responsibly, choosing ocean-friendly restaurants and shopping at the many farmers’markets,” Reinheimer added. But it extends beyond food – supporting local businesses and buying locally made souvenirs has a positive impact, too.
“Lei making is the ultimate expression of aloha (the Hawaiian belief that all things, people and nature, are connected and deserve love),” she said. “It connects us to the land; we honour the plants we use and ask permission before picking them.” Yet, like many aspects of Hawaiian culture, traditional lei-making faced obstacles. After Hawaii’s 1898 annexation by the US, many cultural practices – including the Hawaiian language and hula – were banned. It wasn’t until the Hawaiian Renaissance of the 1960s that these traditions began to revive, and today, mālama plays a role in keeping them alive.
Maile Brown from the Kaua’i Visitors Bureau has said, “Tourism is about education. If you leave understanding the complexity and beauty of a place, you develop a reverence for it.” While volunteering is one way to practise mālama, learning about Hawaii is just as essential. “It’s about perpetuating local culture,” she continued. “This is our kuleana, our responsibility.” Then, she added, with a smile, “Of course, be sure to enjoy the island’s beauty, the variety of activities – just put mālama into the mix, and in your heart.”
Molokai is the least visited of all the Hawaiian Islands. There are no resorts, no chain stores, no billboards – just swirling seas at the foot of some of the world’s tallest cliffs, forests of flaming red ʻōhiʻa trees and candy-coloured clapboard churches. Deep into Hālawa Valley on the island’s far eastern edge lives Greg Solatario, a native Hawaiian cultural practitioner who lives off-grid on the land his ancestors have stewarded for centuries. Solatario embodies mālama – committed to nurturing the land and preserving Hawaiian culture. He blows a conch horn, which he says is to ask permission before entering the land. He firmly believes that mālama can, and should, be a global value, not just a Hawaiian one.
It’s good to report such an inspiring story!
