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Kinship between Hawaii, Johor rulers
Built in 1879 by King Kalakaua of Hawaii on the site of an older wooden palace, the Iolani is relatively modern compared with the likes of Versailles in France or the Dolmabahçe in Turkey, but that doesn't mean that it lacks historical value. I booked for myself a guided visit to the palace, and I was not disappointed.
The person who guided our small group on that day was a formidable docent of the Iolani, Della. Here, she regaled us with the ups and downs of the lost kingdom. It was here that I discovered the close relationship forged between King Kalakaua and Sultan Sir Abu Bakar of Johor, the Father of Modern Johor.
Both monarchs, who were fluent in English, conversed freely with one another and discovered common words in Malay and Hawai'ian.
According to Walter Gibson, the then foreign minister of Hawaii, the visit to Johor assured King Kalakaua that coloured people could survive the encroachment of the whites. In Gibson's own words:
"We are very glad that our Hawaiian king visited a Malay sovereign, the Maharajah of Johore: that His Majesty recognised striking evidences of kinship between Hawaiian and Malay: that His Majesty observed that these brown cognates of Johore were healthy, prolific and an increasing people, though living under the guidance and dominion of the European race; that His Majesty recognises that there is no natural law, or destiny, that the brown races shall pass away in the presence of the whites, as is alleged in Polynesia."
Indeed, the 19th century was a trying time for native polities in the Asia-Pacific region as the momentum of colonialisation was in full swing. While both monarchs used modernisation to secure a certain parity with Western powers, King Kalakaua was less successful.
In 1893, the Hawai'ian monarchy was overthrown by white business magnates — all witnessed by the silent but redoubtable Iolani Palace.
Despite the initial recognition of the kingdom's independence by Western powers, the realities of geopolitics dictated the end of this pacific kingdom at the hands of a mighty few whites. As the tour came to an end, a rather incautious Caucasian tourist wondered out loud if the fall of the native kingdom is of their own undoing.
I could have sworn that at that moment in time, the Hawai'ian fire goddess Pele reincarnated herself before me. One thing you should also know is that Della is a living legend in her own right and blood. Her uncle was one of the supporters of Queen Liliuokalani, the last queen of the kingdom of Hawaii.
He was sentenced to death by the invading force who backed the white businessmen. But the queen stood up for her supporters and declared "it is me who you hate and who you want to suppress. Sentence me to death, but let my people free". The invading force relented, and commuted the sentence to imprisonment.
Looking back, it seems fire does run through Della's veins. I left the former royal seat with a mixed feeling: my heart felt heavy from listening to the injustices of the past, yet somehow, glad to have met someone like Della who marched on to protect her heritage.
Thanks to her and those who share her passion, Hawaii-Five- O is not the only thing that I have in mind when someone talks to me of Hawaii.
And in case you are wondering why Kalakaua and Liliuokalani sound familiar, they were immortalised in Disney's Lilo & Stich opening song, He Mele No Lilo.
Built in 1879 by King Kalakaua of Hawaii on the site of an older wooden palace, the Iolani is relatively modern compared with the likes of Versailles in France or the Dolmabahçe in Turkey, but that doesn't mean that it lacks historical value. I booked for myself a guided visit to the palace, and I was not disappointed.
The person who guided our small group on that day was a formidable docent of the Iolani, Della. Here, she regaled us with the ups and downs of the lost kingdom. It was here that I discovered the close relationship forged between King Kalakaua and Sultan Sir Abu Bakar of Johor, the Father of Modern Johor.
Both monarchs, who were fluent in English, conversed freely with one another and discovered common words in Malay and Hawai'ian.
According to Walter Gibson, the then foreign minister of Hawaii, the visit to Johor assured King Kalakaua that coloured people could survive the encroachment of the whites. In Gibson's own words:
"We are very glad that our Hawaiian king visited a Malay sovereign, the Maharajah of Johore: that His Majesty recognised striking evidences of kinship between Hawaiian and Malay: that His Majesty observed that these brown cognates of Johore were healthy, prolific and an increasing people, though living under the guidance and dominion of the European race; that His Majesty recognises that there is no natural law, or destiny, that the brown races shall pass away in the presence of the whites, as is alleged in Polynesia."
Indeed, the 19th century was a trying time for native polities in the Asia-Pacific region as the momentum of colonialisation was in full swing. While both monarchs used modernisation to secure a certain parity with Western powers, King Kalakaua was less successful.
In 1893, the Hawai'ian monarchy was overthrown by white business magnates — all witnessed by the silent but redoubtable Iolani Palace.
Despite the initial recognition of the kingdom's independence by Western powers, the realities of geopolitics dictated the end of this pacific kingdom at the hands of a mighty few whites. As the tour came to an end, a rather incautious Caucasian tourist wondered out loud if the fall of the native kingdom is of their own undoing.
I could have sworn that at that moment in time, the Hawai'ian fire goddess Pele reincarnated herself before me. One thing you should also know is that Della is a living legend in her own right and blood. Her uncle was one of the supporters of Queen Liliuokalani, the last queen of the kingdom of Hawaii.
He was sentenced to death by the invading force who backed the white businessmen. But the queen stood up for her supporters and declared "it is me who you hate and who you want to suppress. Sentence me to death, but let my people free". The invading force relented, and commuted the sentence to imprisonment.
Looking back, it seems fire does run through Della's veins. I left the former royal seat with a mixed feeling: my heart felt heavy from listening to the injustices of the past, yet somehow, glad to have met someone like Della who marched on to protect her heritage.
Thanks to her and those who share her passion, Hawaii-Five- O is not the only thing that I have in mind when someone talks to me of Hawaii.
And in case you are wondering why Kalakaua and Liliuokalani sound familiar, they were immortalised in Disney's Lilo & Stich opening song, He Mele No Lilo.
