Discovering the Heart of Hawaiʻi: Farming Kalo in Waimea Valley

Guided by passionate and dedicated farmer Dayton Supebedia, Explorer Josh uncovered the rich traditions of Hawaiian kalo farming and deep cultural roots that make Hawai’i truly unique.

When I first heard the word ‘kalo’, I immediately thought of Frida Kahlo, the famous Mexican artist. But kalo is actually the Hawaiian name given to the cultivated root vegetable, taro. Little did I know that cultivating kalo in Hawaiʻi would offer a deeply enriching experience vastly different from anything I had imagined.

My journey led me to Waimea Valley on the North Shore of Hawai’i, where I met Dayton Supebedia, a dedicated local farmer who’s also a very keen fisherman. This adventure was not just about agriculture but a profound dive into the heart of Hawaiian culture.

A Little More About Waimea Valley

For the uninitiated, Waimea Valley is just a beautiful place on a map. But this little slice of Hawai‘i holds many secrets. History buffs and environmentalists, settle in. Firstly it’s an ahupua‘a, which means a division of land stretching from the mountains to the sea. Way back when, the local Hawaiians divided up their land into multiple ahupua’a slices on the basis that each ‘slice’ provided a balance of resources necessary for survival.

Prior to the 1700s, not much is known about the local residents except that it was presided over by the kahuna nui class of O‘ahu high priests. They were likely joined by mahi‘ai (farmers) and lawai‘a (fishermen).

The valley has been lived in and farmed by many different generations since then, sustained by the bountiful land and natural resources on this ahupua’a stretching between the mountains and the sea. These days the emphasis is on protecting and preserving the unique environment of Waimea Valley for the generations to come.

Meeting Dayton Supebedia

I arrived in Waimea Valley with little knowledge about kalo, or taro, as it is commonly known outside Hawaiʻi. I‘d been to Hawaiʻi multiple times but had never encountered kalo or understood its significance. Dayton Supebedia, a laidback young guy and passionate farmer, greeted me shyly on a rainy day. He works tirelessly to cultivate kalo and other traditional Hawaiʻian crops such as sugar cane, banana, sweet potato, and kava. Even on his days off work, he still comes to work.

Dayton’s love for farming was palpable as we began our tour of the Waimea Valley farm. He shared stories with me of his grandfather, who was also a farmer, and how those early experiences influenced his career path.

‘My grandpa planted all these mango trees 20 years ago’, Dayton said, talking about trees he had at home. ‘He never got to eat the mangoes. I won’t eat the mango, but my grandkids will.’ Despite not being around long enough for the mango trees he planted to bear fruit, Dayton’s grandpa wanted to teach his grandchildren about the importance of caring for future Hawaiian generations who will share this earth someday, too. A sustainable and nurturing philosophy to live by.

This statement encapsulated a powerful message of investing in the future, even when you won’t be around to see it, and helped me understand where Dayton’s deep love of farming came from.

The History and Importance of Kalo

Kalo has been a staple crop in Hawaiʻi for centuries. It’s deeply embedded in the Hawaiian story, believed to be the elder sibling of the Hawaiian people. According to stories passed down through hula, the first kalo plant grew from the buried body of Hāloa, the stillborn son of the gods. His younger sibling, also named Hāloa, became the ancestor of all Hawaiians. This story underscores Hawaiians’ reverence for kalo, treating it as a family member.

Historically, kalo was the most produced staple crop in Hawaiʻi. Dayton explained that while it used to be ubiquitous with over 3000 species, it’s not as common as it once was.

‘If it were the number one staple crop, you’d expect to see it everywhere. But you don’t anymore’, he remarked. The decline in kalo cultivation is a poignant reminder of the shift away from traditional agricultural and cultural practices.

Hands-On Farming Experience

My experience in Waimea Valley included a hands-on lesson in farming kalo. Dayton equipped me with a spade and we ventured into the muddy lo’i/taro patches. The lo’i are meticulously maintained wetlands or dry (the ones at Waimea are dry) designed to provide the perfect growing conditions for kalo.

Dayton’s expertise was evident as he demonstrated the proper technique for planting kalo shoots. I found the process to be rather calming, allowing me to connect deeply with the land. With hands covered in mud, I smiled and thought to myself, ‘If I wasn’t a photographer, I could take up farming’. Maybe I will later in life?

Dayton emphasized the importance of malama’ āina, a Hawaiian concept meaning ‘to care for the land’. This principle is at the core of his farming practices.

‘Being a caretaker for the island is crucial’, Dayton told me. ‘It’s not just about growing food; it’s about preserving our heritage and respecting the environment.’

The Process of Making Poi

After Dayton showed me how kalo is farmed, it was time to learn how to make poi – a traditional Hawaiian dish made from the kalo root. Dayton explained that poi is the root of the kalo, pounded and mixed with water until it reaches a smooth, sticky consistency. I was fortunate enough to participate in the process of turning a kalo corm into poi.

Better yet, I was able to taste the freshly pounded poi. If I had to wait 18 months to grow my own kalo, I’m sure it would’ve tasted 100 times better again.

The preparation begins with harvesting the kalo root, which involves carefully digging around the base of the plant. The roots are then cleaned, cooked, and pounded using a stone pestle called a pōhaku ku’i ‘ai.

The traditional cooking method of kalo corm involves an underground oven or imu. This ancient technique involves heating volcanic rocks for several hours to create the perfect cooking environment. The imu symbolizes the communal spirit of Hawaiian culture, as it’s often used during large gatherings and celebrations.

Dayton’s Journey and Passion for Farming

Dayton’s path to becoming a farmer wasn’t straightforward. Growing up, he dreamed of pursuing different careers, such as being a chef like his parents. But his gut feeling, or na’au, as he calls it in Hawaiian, guided him back to farming. Despite doubts and questioning from others, Dayton followed his instincts.

‘What are the main joys?’ I asked him. He gestured to the surrounding valley.

‘Look where we’re at. I’m out here all day. When you grow your own stuff, you start the process from the beginning. It’s the ultimate luxury.’

Dayton’s love for farming was ignited when he planted a lychee seed and watched it grow into a tall tree. This simple act of nurturing a plant from seed to maturity sparked what he thinks will be a lifelong pursuit. His interest in farming deepened during his senior year of high school and led him to pursue formal education in agriculture.

The Ultimate Journey of Patience

Farming kalo requires immense patience. Depending on the variety, the kalo plant can take anywhere from 6 to 18 months to mature.

‘Imagine waiting a year and a half’, Dayton mused. ‘The process is slow, but it’s the ultimate journey of patience. You have so much more respect for your food when you’ve put in all that time and effort.’

Dayton’s dedication to farming goes beyond personal satisfaction. He sees it as a way to give back to the community and preserve Hawaiʻian culture. He dreams of reviving the traditional Hawaiʻian practice of bartering.

‘If you have some fish and I have some kalo, you bring what you have, I’ll bring what I have’, he explained. This communal way of living still exists in Hawaiʻi, where you never go to a gathering empty-handed.

Reflections on the Experience

My time farming, cooking, and eating with Dayton was a trip highlight and deeply educational. It opened my eyes to the rich cultural heritage of Hawaiʻi and the importance of preserving traditional practices. As someone who loves to cook, this experience gave me a deeper appreciation for farming, for food, and for the process that brings food to the table.

Engaging in the meticulous process of cultivating kalo and making poi provided me with a newfound respect for the patience and care that farming requires. The experience wasn’t just about learning a new skill, but about connecting with the land and understanding the significance of these practices in Hawaiian culture.

This adventure has inspired me to incorporate some of these values into my life. I now understand the profound satisfaction of growing your own food and the importance of nurturing the environment. I wish to carry forward the lessons I learned from Dayton about patience, respect for nature, and the value of community.

For anyone visiting Hawaiʻi, I highly recommend delving deeper and exploring the rich cultural heritage that makes these islands genuinely unique. Engaging with and honouring these cultural practices offers a profound and enriching experience beyond typical tourist activities.

My journey to Waimea Valley and my time with Dayton Supebedia were beautiful reminders of the importance of cultural preservation and sustainable living. The jungle-esque Waimea Valley held a special energy, something I deeply felt standing barefoot in the kalo farming rows. Locals like Dayton are doing their best to keep the ancient art of kalo cultivation alive and thriving. This experience is a testament to the resilience and ingenuity of the Hawaiian people, and it’s something I carry with me long after I’ve left the islands.

Photography by @etchd