Hula is No Trip to the Beach

"Ho 'okanaka!" yelled Kumu Kawika Keikiali'ihiwahiwa Alfiche to a sweating group of hula dancers on a Monday night. It was the first day of open enrollment for hula classes at Halau o Keikiali'i, the Kaululehua Hawaiian Cultural Center's school for dance and culture.  Alfiche was telling his students to suck it up, in Hawaiian.

The Kaululehua Hawaiian Cultural Center, based in an unassuming house on Baden Avenue, is home to the 15-year-old Halau (school) and hosts open enrollments for one month every two years. Once the Halau has assembled a dedicated group of dancers, they stay together at the same pace for as long as possible so that newcomers will not hold back the group's progress. 

A complete novice to hula, I attended the first meeting for this year's open enrollment, which will last all of September and possibly some of October, before the Halau closes to all new membership.  It's a unique opportunity to try out Hawaiian dance locally.

Although the main event of the night was the introductory hula class, the experience felt more like a community gathering; strangers greeted strangers with warm "Alohas" and kisses on the cheek. While many were returning students back for another stint with Halau o Keikiali'i, a number were new to the Halau, and a few, like myself, had never taken a hula lesson in their lives. Expecting to be completely intimidated by the experience, I was pleasantly surprised by the welcoming, supportive vibe the group maintained throughout the night.

Alfiche, whom students were to always address as "Kumu" (meaning "teacher"), started the night off by leading our group in a circle of blessing, with students who knew the words chanting along as we all joined hands.

As Alfiche explained, hula is more than just a dance or performance to some of its practitioners. "For some, it is their spirituality, their religion," he said. "They devote their lives to it."

Arranged in five long lines throughout the length of the studio, our group followed Alfiche's lead and the beat of the drums as we learned some of the basic movements of hula. More than just steps, Alfiche emphasized posture and positioning, citing the significance of body language in Hawaiian culture, where something as subtle as holding your hands behind your back can denote that you are in mourning.

Trying hard to follow the Hawaiian proverb "Ho 'opili," which stresses learning through observation and mimicking what you see, I found that I should have heeded our instructor's warning to stretch as much as we could before class.

Halfway through, I was convinced that all my biking must not actually be that much of a workout because my legs had never been so sore. Having spent most of the hour trying to get my hips to sway while keeping my knees slightly bent and my feet flat, all while desperately attempting to remember when to keep my hands straight out at a 45- degree angle or in fists at my sides, I could see why the call to "Ho 'okanaka" was necessary.

After a number of visits from Alfiche and fellow instructors, correcting my posture or technique, and constant line rotation that had me in the front row a bit too often for my liking, I finally started to get the hang of what the different Hawaiian instructions meant. Sadly, by this time class was over.

Despite my failure to keep up, the class turned out to be a learning experience for more than just dance. Our instructors and experienced dancers relayed much about the culture and spirituality that is intertwined with hula. We even had a brief lesson on the Hawaiian alphabet at the end of class.

"It's kind of like being in a dojo in karate," Alfiche explained. "There is a lot of discipline involved."

Burlingame resident Olma Madrid came to the Halau for the first time after 12 years of hula and Tahitian training at other schools.

"I thought it would be nice to learn hula the Hawaiian way," she said, adding that after most recently training at a performing arts center, "it was very refreshing from what I was used to. You're not just learning the basics, but also the culture and language."

Alfiche added that many people come to the class for the atmosphere rather than just to learn the technique. "They see it as a way to stay fit in a fun, relaxed, nurturing environment," he said.

The Halau asks $10 per session and is open to the public throughout the month of September, with classes of varying difficulty offered Monday through Thursday nights. For more information, visit the Kaululehua Hawaiian Cultural Center's website at www.apop.net or call (650)588-1091.