huakaʻi po

The term "huakaʻi po" translates directly to "night procession" and is used by locals across Hawaii to describe the legendary night marchers—ghostly ranks of ancient Hawaiian warriors, chiefs, and spirits. It is spoken with deep respect and often a touch of fear, usually brought up when discussing local ghost stories, unexplained sounds in the valleys, or specific sacred areas known to be their pathways. Culturally, it is believed that if a mortal looks directly at the huakaʻi po, they will be struck dead unless they have an ancestor in the procession to protect them. Therefore, the phrase is rarely used lightly or as a joke; it serves as a serious cultural reminder to respect the land, stay indoors on certain moonless nights, and never obstruct ancient Hawaiian trails.

"Turn off da flashlight, you stupid!" Keoni hissed, slapping his younger brother’s arm in the pitch-black living room. The power had been out in Volcano Village for two hours, and the thick, freezing fog pressing against the jalousies was already making everyone paranoid. Aunty Nani was frantically trying to light a damp mosquito coil with a broken barbecue lighter, cursing in a mix of Ilocano and Pidgin, while the dogs in the backyard were losing their minds howling at the forest. Suddenly, a deep, rhythmic thumping echoed through the ohia trees. Thump. Thump. Thump.

"Oh my god, it’s da huakaʻi po," whispered cousin Bronson, dropping his bag of Funyuns all over the rug. "I told you guys we shouldn't have moved the rocks by the driveway! They coming for us!" He dove behind the rattan sofa, dragging a terrified Keoni with him. Aunty Nani started praying loudly, clutching a wooden rice paddle like a weapon, while the thumping grew louder, vibrating the single-wall construction of the house.

The front door violently rattled, and everyone screamed. The door swung open to reveal Uncle Boy, soaked to the bone and holding a muddy tow strap. "Eh, which one of you lolo kids gonna help me? My Tacoma stay stuck in the mud down the road and my subwoofers still blasting the reggae mix!" Bronson slowly peeked over the sofa, brushing Funyun crumbs off his shirt, while Aunty Nani threw the rice paddle at Uncle Boy's head.