The pleated peaks of Mount Ka'ala reach sharply to the clouds, catching the rain. Ka'ala, the highest point on O'ahu, shelters a valley of timeless serenity, untouched by the grip of conrete. An ancient network of terraced lo'i kalo steps gently down the mountain's western flank. Hundreds of archaeological features highlight the presence of generations past.

     At one time, this valley was the "poi bowl", or bread basket of the Wai'anae Coast. Today a dedicated group of Po'e Hawai'i has reclaimed part of this heartland for cultivation of the earth and of the spirit. This is the cultural Learning Center at Ka'ala. The center provides an anchor in a sea of change.

     The project's founders spent years clearing overgrown brush to unveil lava-rock walls pieced together by hand centuries ago. Workers resurrected the prehistoric irragation system, sending water coursing from terrace to flooded terrace. Once again, Kalo plants stretch toward the sun, their broad leaves nodding in the breeze.

     As today's students wade into the muddy lo'i to plant young kalo, their bare feet trace the footsteps of their ancestors. They listen to their kupuna in the shade of a hale na'auao thatched with pili grass. And they experience first hand the self-sustaining life of the traditional Hawaiian ahupua'a.

     Seperated from the rest of the population by the Wai'anae mountain range, this stretch of the island has always drawn it's strength from within. In ancient times, defeated chiefs retreated here to regenerate. The area's largely native Hawaiian population is still known for it's fiesty spirit.

     As waves of urbanization roll westward from Honolulu, Wai'anae holds out as a last stand. The residents of Wai'anae have a powerful sense of pride dispite the rumors of being one of the worst cities in Hawai'i. The work of the Ka'ala Cultural Learning Center is helping to reveal the true strength of Wai'anae and it's people.

     According to tradition, kalo sprouted from the grave of the stillborn child of Papa, the earth mother, and Wakea, the first man. Po'e Hawai'i consider the sturdy plant their "older brother". For them, malama 'aiana is not a question of "environmentalism" or being good "stewards". It is a question of "kinship".

     The cultivation of reached a higher state in Hawai'i than anywhere in Polynesia. Taro patches quilted the valleys, channeling water from lo'i to lo'i, in a remarkable feat of engineering. One of the world's most nutritious plants, kalo literally built the Hawaiian race. It's corm was cooked, pounded, and mixed with water to create the staple, poi, and it's leaves steamed as vegetables.

     Lack of access to land and water, however, has helped cut the number of acres in kalo cultivation from 20,000 at it's peak to less than 400 today. Lowland sugar plantations robbed the lo'i of their water, displacing native farmers. Agriculture in Hawai'i became highly concentrated and water rights politicized.

     Today, growing kalo is an expression of Hawaiian sovereignty. The Cultural Learning Center stands out for transforming a once-marginalized area into a greenhouse of indigenous culture. Its founders are taking a step toward "land reform" rooted in native values.