After the abolition of the kapu system in 1819, many heiau were damaged or dismantled. Some of their ki‘i (god images) were destroyed, while others were hidden or taken into private collections. For a long time, Hawaiian history was relegated to books, Hawaiian-language newspapers, and word of mouth.
Restoring an ancient Hawaiian site is about much more than putting stones back where they once stood. These places can tell us how generations of Hawaiians lived, farmed, worshipped, and cared for the ‘āina. They give us something tangible to learn from, especially when so much of the physical landscape has changed.
When places like these are respectfully restored, it can help Hawaiians reclaim and preserve a meaningful part of their cultural heritage. It can also provide a space where younger generations can learn about their ancestors, traditional practices, and the responsibilities that come with caring for wahi pana (storied places).
Despite its current dry, rugged environment, Mākaha Valley once contained settlements of people among an agricultural landscape. Investigations have documented hundreds of archaeological features throughout the valley, including stone walls, terraces, and water-diversion structures that allowed the cultivation of hardy crops like ‘uala (sweet potatoes) and uhi (yams). Archaeological evidence shows that people lived in the valley as early as AD 1120, based in part on radiocarbon dating.
Kāneʻākī Heiau was an important part of that landscape.
While the abandonment of traditional kapu caused many heiau to be destroyed or fall into disrepair, Kāne‘ākī was once documented as one of the best-preserved heiau on O‘ahu. Perhaps its location in the very back of Mākaha Valley offered some protection. Later archaeological work showed researchers that Kāne‘ākī was not built all at once. Instead, it developed through six recognizable construction stages, beginning with a simple temple dedicated to Lono and agriculture and becoming progressively larger and more elaborate.
Researchers believe the final transformation and expansion of Kāne‘ākī occurred under Kamehameha I, who may have ordered its transition to a luakini (sacrificial) heiau dedicated to Kū. He may have done this to ensure victory in his final conquest of Kaua‘i.
Modern restoration of Kāne‘ākī began in 1969 under the supervision of Bishop Museum, with support from the Mākaha Historical Foundation. Because no surviving detailed description or drawing showed exactly what the haieu looked like, those who led the restoration process had to rely on knowledge of other heiau and the archaeological remains found in the valley. Pu‘ukoholā Heiau served as a model for some of the hale (houses) and ki‘i (images), while postholes discovered in the original stone platform supported the placement of the structures.
The reconstruction was completed in 1970, but the efforts were not just about bringing a forgotten ruin back to life. Projects like these are about allowing the mana (spiritual essence) of this wahi pana to tell its own history.
Today, Kāneʻākī Heiau is located within Mauna ʻOlu Estates, a private, gated community in Mākaha Valley. Although the site still holds cultural significance for the Hawaiian community, outsiders have limited access to the heiau and need permission to go beyond the gates. Still, its location within a modern residential community is simply another chapter in the valley’s long history.
Places like this often have stories that linger, and Kāneʻākī is no exception. Alongside its archaeological and cultural history are accounts of unusual experiences connected with the heiau and the surrounding valley. And that brings us to another chapter in the story of Kāneʻākī.
A woman who attended one of our tours a few years ago told me she lived in the gated community of Mauna ‘Olu Estates. She explained that one night, while she was home alone, she heard an unusual pounding sound. She said despite what anyone else suggested, she knew it wasn’t simply a car playing loud music on huge speakers with the bass pounding.
But the sound she heard was a cacophony of drums that felt like they were pulsating right in her ears. Then it became cavernous, like it was fading into the depths of a well with no bottom. Then another wave came; as soon as one drum sound faded, another rose right on top of it.
The sound kept going until it crashed through her living room and went through the front door. It felt like she’d been in a tornado, except when she looked around, nothing was out of order. She thought she’d lost her mind and told her husband once he got home. Because there was no physical evidence to support what his wife described, her husband found it hard to believe her. That is, until later in the year, when it happened a second time. This time the woman’s husband was home, and he experienced the dramatic crashing sound of deep cavernous drums himself.
But the husband’s experience was a little different. He said he also heard men’s voices speaking in an urgent tone. The husband is not from Hawai‘i, so he didn’t recognize the language, but based on a few sounds he was able to mimic, his wife believed it was Hawaiian.
She had no idea that Kāne‘ākī Heiau was at the back of the valley. I briefly explained some of the history of the heiau, and she sighed, as if the wind had been knocked out of her sails.
“That would explain it,” she muttered.
Her description sounds like she and her husband encountered the huaka‘i pō. Their tale corroborates stories I’ve been told by some elders in Mākaha about the night marchers’ procession that walked through the valley long before Mauna ‘Olu Estates was originally developed.
The woman contacted me a month later, saying that she and her husband went up to visit Kāne‘ākī Heiau, where she brought flower lei that she made herself. With her lei and a prayer, she said she had nothing to do with where her house was built and that she and her husband meant no disrespect in living there. Then, as they walked back to their home, they noticed that many of the houses had stone walls around their properties that looked hand-set, like the ones at Kāne‘ākī.
She asked me, “Do you think the heiau still has influence over this neighborhood?”
Who’s to say, really? Whatever mana they may encounter could be from the heiau, or it might be from hundreds of years of life and death in that quiet valley on the west side of O‘ahu.
The authors can be reached at hawaii.mysteries@gmail.com
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