Akule

FOR CENTURIES, akule have been bountiful here in Hawai'i. In earlier times, villages posted lookouts, kiloi'a, above the bays, to alert everyone to the akule's seasonal arrivals. Easy to see when gathering in the shallows, the dense schools would form riverine patterns, like ribbons blown afloat, unfurling scrolls, the tails of kites, silk scarves carried away in the wind, bursts of fireworks - then suddenly contract into a writhing sculpture, a vortex, unscrolling again and moving on. The Hawaiian language distinguishes each growth stage of the species. The small ones, pa'a'a, are two to three inches long; halalu are five to six inches long; and the adult akule are seven to twelve inches. The immature akule arrive in autumn. Too small for netting, the little halalu are caught by hook - sometimes without bait - bunching together tightly to feed. In spring, the school returns as mature fish. While observing the many kapu involved with fishing, entire communities of Native Hawaiians once swam out with baskets, or loaded their caneos with olona nets to gather them. Today, commerical fishermen use aircraft and sonar to locate akule, then net them by the ton. Wayne Levin's images command our attention whether or not we have any special knowledge about akule, What's harder to account for and name are the emotions and sensations they evoke in us.