Maui's Kite

Long ago in Hawaii people told stories to explain the wonders of nature. This story is about Maui, who wanted to tame the winds.

The weather had been first warm and then cool that month. There was a feeling of uncertainty, of change, of excitement in the air that inspired Maui, and he decided to build a kite.
And what a kite it was! For a sail, his mother gave him her largest, strongest piece of barkcloth. For cross-pieces he used great lengths of bamboo carefully cut and notched. And from the olona shrub he cut long lengths of branch, twisting them together to make a strong rope. With great care he constructed his kite.
Maui's kite was a work of art. His friends excitedly gathered around to help him carry it to Keeper-of-the-Winds. Maui and the others paraded though the village, and all the people left their work and came to watch.
To the Cave-of-the-Winds they marched. As the approached the cave they could see Keeper-of-the-Winds sitting by the entrance.
"O Keeper-of-the-Winds," cried Maui, "come, bring Ipu Iki, the small gourd that holds the gentle breezes, and let us fly our kite!"
Keeper-of-the-Winds was a wise old woman, and knew that the gentle winds of Ipu Iki would play kindly with the boy. She went into her cave and returned, carrying a small calabash, or hollowed-out gourd.
"The name of this calabash is Ipu Iki," she said, "and it holds the gentle winds; the soft, the misty, and the dusty." And she sang her song,

O Wind, Soft Wind of Hilo,
Wind from the calabash of everlasting winds,
come from Ipu Iki.
O Wind, Soft wind of Hilo,
Come gently, come with mildness.

The lid of the calabash began to stir, and Keeper-of-the-Winds carefully lifted its edge. Slowly Soft Wind of Hilo drifted out and tugged at the kite. Maui let out some cord and his friends held up the great sail, but the wind could do no more than rustle the cloth. Again Keeper-of-the-Winds sang her song.

O Wind, Soft Wind of Waimea,
Wind from the calabash of everlasting winds,
come from Ipu Iki.
O Wind, Soft wind of Waimea,
hasten to me, come to me with strength.

Again the lid of the calabash stirred, and Keeper-of-the-Winds raised it slightly. Misty Wind of Waimea flew out, sweeping the kite from the hands of Maui's friends, sending it soaring over the trees.
Maui's friends cheered as he let out the cord, and even Keeper-of-the-Winds became excited. She called Dusty Wind and Smoky Wind. The kite soared like a great bird out over the sea. Maui leaned back and laughed in happiness as Keeper-of-the-Winds stood silently and looked with pleasure upon the boy's face, and then at the kite.
"That's enough for today," said Keeper-of-the-Winds. "One must respect the winds; they should not be taken for granted. They will respect you if you respect them."
After a few moments of silence, Maui slowly nodded his head. "Yes, O Keeper-of-the-Winds," he said a little reluctantly. "Call your winds back to you."
Keeper-of-the-Winds removed the lid from Ipu Iki and called back her winds. Slowly the kite dropped, and as Maui reeled in the line, his friends caught the kite. Keeper-of-the-Winds put the lid back on the calabash, and everyone went home.
But Maui was not content. He had seen how high his kite had gone, but wondered just how much higher it could fly. He remembered the words of Keeper-of-the-Winds, and knew that he must respect the winds, but still he wondered.
The next day Maui and his friends took the great kite and went back to Cave-of-the-Winds. They found Keeper-of-the-Winds sitting out front.
"O Keeper-of-the-Winds, bring out Ipu Nui, calabash of the Four Great Winds!" cried out Maui.
"The winds of Ipu Iki were enough, Maui," said the old woman. "Do you not remember what I said to you? You must respect the winds, especially the Four Great Winds."
"But I am strong, as strong as the Four Great Winds," said Maui, only half believing his own words, and he began to chant,

O Winds, mighty as the gods,
Wind from the calabash of everlasting winds,
come from Ipu Nui.
Strong Wind of the East,
Churning Wind of the North,
hasten and come to me.

From inside the cave came a mighty roar. Keeper-of-the-Winds started and ran towards the entrance, but she was greeted by North Wind and East Wind, who bowled her over and snatched the kite from the hands of Maui's friends. Maui leaned back as far as he could as the kite was swept far out over the sea. He laughed with delight when he saw how far his kite had gone, and at Keeper-of-the-Winds who was struggling vainly to put the lid back on Ipu Nui. But with a great screaming and howling, West Wind and South Wind roared out of the calabash, knocking it from the woman's hands and sending it rolling away.
The kite went as high as the cord was long, and still it tugged violently. The cord began to hum in the wind, and as the sky grew dark, the kite disappeared into the clouds.
Thinking himself to be in control, Maui called out, "O Winds, mighty as the gods, return to Ipu Nui."
But of course the winds were beyond his control. The sky darkened. The four howling winds raged stronger and stronger until the cord attached to the kite snapped with a mighty crack, sending Maui reeling backwards. The kite sailed away over the mountain, never to be seen again.
Yet the winds continued to rage. The palms that grew around Cave-of-the-Winds bent down their heads in the face of the onslaught, until they too broke. Over the entire island the winds screamed and howled. The sheets of barkcloth set out to dry were blown away and a heavy rain began, flooding the fields, sending the men scurrying in all directions. The winds had proven who was the stronger.
In desperation Keeper-of-the-Winds pounced on Ipu Nui and took it back to the cave and worked the night, gently coaxing the winds back into the calabash. Finally the storm ended.
Maui was in disgrace, and people started to call him He-Who-Brought-the-Great-Storm. The people would have nothing to do with him. His friends left him and Keeper-of-the-Winds looked the other way when Maui came to visit.
Finding himself alone with nothing to do, Maui built another kite, small than the first, and flew it near his home when there was no-one else about. He would tie the kite to a rock and study its movements in the sky, and soon he could tell when the weather would be fine, or stormy. One day he noticed some men going off to the fields.
"It will rain today," said Maui to the men, "Tomorrow will be a better day to work the fields."
But the men just scowled at him. Soon it did begin to rain, and the men came running back to the village, looking in amazement at Maui as they ran by.
Another day Maui warned a group of women that their barkcloth could be blown from its drying place, because his kite told him that there would be a storm that day. The women paid him no attention. Soon, however, they were out of their yards, chasing the cloth which was blowing about in the storm.
In time, the village people began to rely on Maui and his kite. He taught them how to predict for themselves from the dancing movements of the kite which days would be good for planting, or fishing, or drying barkcloth. People stopped calling Maui He-Who-Brought-the-Great-Storm and started calling him Teacher-and-Foreteller-of-the-Weather. Keeper-of-the-Winds became friendly towards him again, but Maui had learned his lesson. Never again did he call for the winds of Ipu Iki or Ipu Nui.

*Barkcloth is a felt-like type of cloth found in many tropical countries, made of tree bark that has been pounded soft.
*Hilo is a district on the island of Hawaii.
*Olona is a tropical flower.
*Waimea is a district on the island of Hawaii.

The Shepherd Boy

This is story from Bali that explains the origins of kites. The Balinese believe that the first kite was feather plucked from the neck of a long necked goose. Today, one of the sacred aspects of kite flying in Bali is to remember the shepherd boy and the Hindu gods Vishnu and Siva.

The shepherd leaned back against the tree and breathed in the fragrance of the sweet field grasses. Through half-open eyes he watched his bull methodically grazing in the field. The warmth of the sun relaxed him, and gave him a sense of well-being. Soon he began to doze, allowing his mind to wander. In his mind's eye he saw a beautiful young woman, her long black hair caught up in a thick glossy braid. Her skin was smooth and brown and her flashing friendly eyes were as black as night-velvet.
The shepherd roused himself and reached for a leather pouch he'd brought along with him. Within, he found a small pot of ink, a long quill and a fresh sheet of parchment, and he began to sketch the young woman he'd created in his imagination. In little time the image of the woman in his daydream appeared on the paper. The shepherd smiled, pleased with himself.
Suddenly a shadow fell upon the parchment. With a start the shepherd looked up to behold the king of the land staring down at him.
"Who is that beautiful young girl?" demanded the king, pointing down at the shepherd's drawing. His voice was sharp and impatient.
"She lives in my heart, sire," stammered the shepherd, at once terrified and awed by the sight of the king enwrapped in his magnificent silks. "She lives but in my imagination."
The king smiled wickedly. "I demand that you bring her to me, for I mean to make her my queen!"
"But Your Majesty!" cried the shepherd, "she is not a woman of flesh and bone, but a vapour, a fantasy of my own creation!"
"And yet I intend to make her my queen and my wife," the king snarled, moving his face menacingly close to the shepherd's. "If you should fail to bring her to me by tomorrow's sunset, you shall pay with your life!" The King laughed, leaving the shepherd quaking.

The poor shepherd didn't know what to do. How could he find the young woman when she was nothing more than a winged shadow, a flight of his fancy? It was impossible, he knew. With his mind whirling in confusion and fear, he leapt up and stumbled into the forest, the tears coursing down his cheeks, until in exhaustion he collapsed under a mahogany tree. He closed his eyes and slowly concentrated on regaining his breath and clearing his mind. As he calmed himself, he became aware of a presence behind him. Terrified that it might be the kind or one of his manservants, he pitched himself forward and twisted around to look. There stood a monster, a huge blue hairy beast with enormously broad shoulders, a red mane like a lion's and long dagger sharp teeth. The shepherd was horrified, but when he saw the gentleness of the monster's large green eyes, the fear quickly subsided and was replaced with respect.
I know why you are running, Shepherd," said the monster in a low rumble, reaching out and touching the shepherd's head. "I can help you if you wish. You will not need to leave this island, you home, if you choose to follow my advice."
The shepherd was calmed by the deep timbre of the monster's voice, and the warmth of its hand on his head was like the healing rays of the sun. He felt he could trust the monster completely.
"I do believe that you can help me," he told the monster, "and I trust you not to lead me astray."

"Very well, then," replied the monster, "my suggestion is simple." The monster reached under a flowering bush and there he found a long-necked goose. With the same care that he had shown the shepherd, he gently caressed the bird. Then he deftly plucked a pure white feather from the goose's neck.

"Follow this feather where ever the wind takes it," he told the shepherd. "The wind shall not fail you if you continue to believe and trust." With that, the monster held the feather up and blew on it, sending it floating up into the trees. The shepherd hardly dared to take the time to thank the monster. He quickly ran after the feather and followed it as it darted between the trees. He could feel a breeze gently blowing against his back, yet at times it seemed that the feather ignored the wind, hovering for a few moments to allow the shepherd to catch up to it. And then it would be off again.
The shepherd followed the feather out of the forest and over rice paddies and meadows toward a mountain that was covered with a lushness of trees and bushes festooned with brightly coloured blossoms. The shepherd reached the mountain as the sun was setting, and for a moment he was afraid he would lose sight of the feather in the darkness of night. But the feather seemed to carry its own light, and with the help of the moonlight, the shepherd easily followed it up the mountain. He marveled at how he didn't seem to tire if he concentrated solely on the feather floating in front of him.
All night long he followed the feather, until, just as dawn threw her majestically coloured cape over the sky, he reached the top of the mountain. There the feather stopped, glowing brightly, and the shepherd sat on the ground, wondering, waiting.
As the feather continued to glow, it seemed to the shepherd that he could hear singing, a beautiful music that came from beyond the lavender-hued clouds. The feather glowed more intensely as the singing around him, catching up his hair and swirling it around, as the wind from scores of wings tossed the feather gently on its current. Sprites, or devas, appeared from behind the morning clouds, and hovered singing, over the mountain top.
The shepherd was speechless. He had never seen such beautiful beings. All of them, male and female, were wonderfully attired in exotically coloured batiks and feathers. A myriad of colour, turquoise, scarlet, orange and violet, seemed to paint the sky in a living rainbow. From their ears and around their necks, the devas wore gems of all sorts and garlands of brilliantly coloured flowers. The deva closest to the shepherd touched his hand. The shepherd gasped, for she was the image of the young woman he had first seen in his mind and had them sketched on parchment. In his hear he thanked the monster. Then he explained his situation to her.
"If I do not deliver you to the king by sundown, he shall kill me, for he means to make you his wife. Can you help?"
"Do you believe that the feather the monster gave you has led you in the right direction?" the deva asked the shepherd, her face kindly and her eyes sparkling.
"Yes, indeed I do," the shepherd answered her.
"Then continue to trust," she said, and placed a calming had on his heart.
Suddenly there was an uncanny stillness in the air. The devas stopped singing and turned their faces in unison toward the sky.
"Siva comes," whispered the deva to the shepherd and squeezed his hand encouragingly.
And Siva did come. A radiant cloud began to quickly swirl in upon itself, spinning faster and faster, until the shape of the god began to take form. With a flash of light, and a sound like a thousand deeply toned drums resounding and drowning out all else, the great god Siva appeared. He was truly an awe-inspiring figure, and the shepherd remembered, ashamed, how he had let the king strike fear into his heart. For beside Siva, the king, a human being no different than the shepherd himself, seemed no longer frightening. As his awe and amazement at the swiftly approaching god grew, so did the shepherd's courage. The immense form of the god blocked out the light of the morning sun, yet Siva, like the feather and the devas, glowed with an inner intensity that lit up all that was around him. The feather continued to hover amongst them, as Siva looked down at the shepherd.
"Shepherd, I have watched you for a long time, and I have presented you with this test of your trust. Truly you are worthy to be a descendant of Vishnu, and indeed that is what you are. and by his name you are the rightful king of this land."
The shepherd stared in breathless excitement at the god, and then at the beautiful deva beside him.
"And the sweet deva who is now at your side," continued Siva, "if it be her will, is to become your queen and partner, and together you shall rule over this land."
At this, the deva glanced at the shepherd and gently squeezed his hand. Then with great reverence, she looked at the god Siva and said "Yes, it is my will."
"Then the great Vishnu decrees it, and I sanctify it," answered Siva. "And as for the usurper who now calls himself king," the god continued, "he is already destroyed. I have sent the monster, he who plucked for you the goose-feather, and he has killed the false king. The land is from this moment on rightfully yours to rule."


So it was that the shepherd and the deva were married, and became king and queen. To celebrate their liberation from the evil king and honour the new king and queen, the people of the land flew kites that looked like the magic goose-feather. And this they do to this very day.

*A deva is a divine being in Hinduism and Buddhism. Devas, when appearing to mortals, never sweat not blink, and neither do their feet touch the ground. They cast no shadows and wear ornaments made from never fading-flowers.
*Siva (pronounced shi'va) A Hindu god who is male, female and neuter. Siva is the god of growth, destruction and re-growth.
*Vishnu is a major Hindu and Buddhist deity. Vishnu is believed to be the protector of the universe and the embodiment of goodness and mercy.

Fat One and Rooster

It is not certain as to where the first kites came from, but it is said that they were first known to the people of the South Sea Islands. They used to use it to fish, attaching bait to the tail of the kite and a web to catch the fish. Even today, some natives of the Soloman Islands in the Pacific Ocean use kites as s fishing aid. In the Polynesian Islands, kites were associated with gods. A kite represented the god Tane, as well as the god Rongo who was the patron saint of the arts, kites, and kite flying. Then once again, the knowledge spread. The Maori are a people who lived in what is now known as New Zealand. Their word for bird is ‘manu’ and it is the shape of a bird that they made their kites. It was believed that birds could carry messages between humans and gods. Sometimes, the kites represented the gods themselves. The Maori god Rehua is depicted as a bird, and was thought to be the ancestor of all kites. As kite flying was considered a sacred ritual, it was often accompanied by a type of chant called the turu manu. Here is a translation of a turu manu.

My bird, by power of charm ascending,
In the glance of an eye, like the sparrow hawk,
By this charm shall my bird arise,
My bird bestride the heavens.
Beyond the swirling waters,
Like the stars Atutahi and Rehua,
and there spread out thy wings,
To the very clouds. Truly so.

The Maori also used kites for divination and for funerary purposes.

China is another widely accepted place as the birth-place of kites. One story is of a Chinese general, Huan Theng who, in the year 202 BCE, got the idea for a particular military strategy watching the way his hat flew from his head. Placing thin pieces of bamboo that hummed and shrieked in the wind, the General flew a large number of them over an enemy encampment one night, causing them to believe that they were plagued by evil spirits out to destroy them, and so, the army ran away. Both the Chinese and the Japanese learned to use kites for raising soldiers into the air as spies of snipers. Some old Japanese and Chinese prints show warriors flying over their enemies’ territory. There is also a story from Japan about a famous robber named Kakinoki Kinsuke, who was supposed to have used a person-lifting kite to raise himself up to the roof of a castle where the were statues of dolphins made of gold. He was able to steal some of the scales from the dolphins and hid them. He did not escape the authorities, though, and came to a rather fatal end by execution. As time went on, kites were incorporated into local customs in Asia. In Korea, it is a tradition to write the names and birth dates of male children on the kites and then to fly them. The line is then cut to ensure a good year by taking all the bad spirits with it. In Thailand, each monarch had his or her own kite which was flown continuously during the winter months by imperial monks and priests. They were also flown during the monsoon season by the people of Thailand to send their prayers to the gods. In Japan, windsocks are used in the shape of a carp, a symbol of strength of will and fortitude. These windsocks are flown on May 5th, Children’s Day, as an inspiration to the children.

We All Love Kite

Kites have been a part of history for hundreds of years and is a craft and a sport widely participated in still today. Some cultures have special meanings for kite flying, but for many other people, it is a fun thing to do on a windy afternoon.

We all love kite.