I ka muli hope…e mālama kākou i nā mea i aloha ‘ia; e aloha kākou i nā mea ma‘amau; e maopopo kākou i nā mea i a‘o ‘ia.

In the end...we will take care of only what we love; we will love only what we understand; we will understand only what we are taught.

The sound of rushing surf across Hanalei’s pristine beach lulls visitors and surfers from all over the world, all vying for the perfect glimpse or chance to experience the absolute sublime waves. But just a few hundred yards away, aging generations of taro farmers are hard at work with their hands deep in the lo‘i (irrigated taro patch). While tourists flock the ocean shores and helicopter tours cross overhead, these local farmers are planting and harvesting the sacred root that fed Hawai‘i’s people since the beginning of population on the islands. This staple has existed since the times of ancient Hawai‘i—centuries ago.

Hawaiians call it kalo, but it’s more well known today as taro. Fearless Polynesian explorers who left the South Pacific in mighty sailing canoes protected and nurtured the plant on their long voyage. Without kalo, they may have starved, as Hawai‘i had no edible plants upon arrival. According to Hawaiian mythology, Wäkea, the divine father and creator of the islands, fell in love and birthed a son with Ho‘ohokukalani. The child was stillborn and deformed—taking on an appearance much like a root. It is said that the first kalo grew from the spot where they buried the child and it became the sustenance for every generation of Hawaiians since then. While the plant was growing, Wäkea’s wife became pregnant and gave birth to a healthy son whom she named Hāloa, named after the stalk (hā) and length (loa) of the kalo plant. Hāloa assumed all three natures of god, human and chief, and was deemed as the original ancestor of all Hawaiians. Through this legend, it is believed that Hawaiians are deeply rooted and connected to the earth. In this respect, Hawaiians believe they came from the land; and when the land is healthy, the people are healthy.

To this day, adventurous hikers will find rock terraces that formed the walls of ancient taro patches in even the most remote and forgotten valleys on Kaua‘i. These walls are all that is left of a vast agriculture that fed a thriving civilization. Wherever there was water, there was taro cultivation. The mystical Hanalei Valley, then was, and is now, the perfect spot to grow this nutritious tuber.

Ancient Hawaiians built a complex system of irrigation ditches to bring water to thirsty taro patches all over the valley. The water draining from the taro fields, rich in nutrients from decaying vegetable matter, would flow into fishponds near the shore. Fish from these ponds provided an essential source of protein in the local diet. Taro farmers ate the kalo leaves, replanted the stems and pounded the root to make poi, a pasty Hawaiian delicacy. The farmers would take all that was leftover to the people who lived along the shore and traded for fish. Nothing went to waste. The islands supported themselves by necessity; sustainability was a way of life.

Like so many things in Hawai‘i, taro cultivation suffered as a result of American and European colonization. By the mid-1800s, other crops including coffee, tobacco, sugarcane and rice replaced taro. By 1920, Hanalei was the top rice production region in Hawai‘i. But by the mid-1900s, the crop saw a steep decline as a devastating tsunami flooded the valley in 1946. Island rice farmers also faced other issues, as California mechanized and Kaua’i farmers still harvested by hand, not to mention rice birds helped themselves to the young seeds. The rice industry saw its last days on Kaua‘i in 1960 when the Haraguchi Rice Mill halted operations. The mill is located in Hanalei Valley, one of the greenest places anywhere in terms of color and fertility. Purchased by the Haraguchi family in 1924, the rice mill is the last standing from the days when five mills processed rice in the valley. The days of rice are long past, and some have wondered whether the fate of taro will follow a similar course.

Fifth generation taro farmer Lyndsey Haraguchi-Nakayama finds herself working against many odds to preserve the agricultural tradition of her family. With the 100-year flood that hit Hanalei in 2018 and almost wiped out the family home, it seemed the odds were almost winning. The family had been through hurricane preparations and recovery throughout the years, but the flood waters almost spelled the end of taro farming. Then, due to COVID-19 in March of 2020, the entire island went into a shutdown mode with curfews and travel restrictions imposed on visitors to the island. The loss of taro farming by the Haraguchi family would have had a huge impact on taro supply to the Hawaiian islands, since Kaua‘i taro farmers account for approximately 80-percent of total production for the entire state. Thankfully, the family farm was able to come through and sustain production. During the pandemic, the silver lining was that the farm was able to supply taro products to residents of the continental U.S.—to families who were unable to make the trip back and missed the comfort food of their homeland. Another silver lining is that the next generation—the sixth, Lyndsey’s children—were homeschooled and that afforded them some time to help with the farm and learn the secrets of the industry, both ancient techniques and those devised by her family.

Lyndsey started at a wee age learning the how-tos. She remembers being in the lo’i at age two. “I have been driving tractors and doing flood evacuations since I was six years old,” she adds. The family legacy she cares so much about resulted from the marriage of her parents, Karol, a former teacher, who wed Rodney, who came from generations of taro farmers. Her mother instilled in her the love of learning while her father modeled perseverance and the value of a strong work ethic. Lyndsey took after her mother in earning a degree in Tropical Horticulture (for which she was awarded a four-year undergraduate scholarship) and, then, an MBA and Doctorate of Education. Her father Rodney believes, “integrity starts at the root of the crop.” The combined wisdom of her parents led her to cultivate her own mission, which one might interpret as making sure integrity is rooted across generations. According to Lyndsey, “Whether it was seedlings of rice or taro, the mission includes planting seeds of knowledge of agricultural and environmental awareness in children so that the next generation can appreciate all that their kūpuna (elders) and ancestors have done and how hard farmers work today.” It is about preserving the traditions of a community whose members have toiled for taro farming for generations. Lyndsey recounts how the “complex irrigation fields used in the lower valley were hand-dug by Chinese farmers and maintained by Hawaiian, Japanese and Filipino farmers.”

The Haraguchis are planting lots of seeds in various fields. The family has preserved the last standing rice mill in Hawai‘i through a non-profit. The Ho‘opulapula (to plant the seedling of) Haraguchi Rice Mill is the site of an agricultural museum and educational programming (haraguchiricemill.org). Value-added products made from the family taro, many based on Karol’s recipes Lindsey grew up eating, are sold through Hanalei Taro (hanaleitaro.com). A food truck by that name operates in different locations on Kaua‘i. Delivery can be arranged as well for a range of nutritious and chef quality prepared products. What’s more, a portion of those proceeds goes to the non-profit. The vegans on Kaua‘i crave the pre-cooked Da Hanalei Taro Burgers; the babies, fresh poi (Lyndsey notes with “natural prebiotics and probiotics”); and no one can refuse Fresh Taro Mochi Cake. With even more to go around, the taro in the field feeds five endangered species of birds. Seeds, bounty and generational lessons have come together in a truly transformative way.

Especially as open land and farms also provide habitats for endangered species, visitors, please be aware of the signs and gates provided by U.S. Fish and Wildlife and that trespassing on protected land is a federal offense.