MICHAEL OLIVASĀ
Aloha, IŹ»m Mikey!
About 20 years ago in Monterey County, Kumu Mark established the Academy of Hawaiian Arts. My family took the opportunity to dance with AHA but they werenāt able to continue after the halau relocated to the Bay Area. Given the experience and wisdom Kumu Mark shared with them, my family continued to share what they learned in our canoe club, Monterey Bay Outriggers. Growing up in the canoe club, aside from the paddling culture, I learned different polynesian dances like siva Samoa, ori Tahiti, kapa haka, and some hula. When we practiced hula basics and they played Poāokela Chants or Call It What You Like, we knew that it was going to be an intense practice. My family hoped that one day I would be able to learn under Uncle Mark and join the legacy heās built.
In the summer of 2022, AHA had announced that they reopened for enrollment after being closed because of the COVID pandemic. As I clicked on the link I saw that only two spots were left and I had to make a decision fast. There were a lot of things to think about: I worked as a special education teacher and athletic coach; I was going to school finishing my teaching credential and masters; helping my family by taking care of my grandmother; and driving a couple hours up north. With all things considered, I thought to myself that lifeās too short and seized the opportunity. I didnāt want to go alone and so I asked my sister if she wanted to join me. We secured the last two spots and that was the start of the AHA journey.
My sister and I enjoyed coming to practice after long days at work even though it was challenging. As long as the drive would be, that wasnāt the challenge. It was unlearning what we thought we knew about hula and breaking habits that we have grown accustomed to.
Ā Kumz and all the veteran dancers have been very supportive at each practice. It was one thing listening to prerecorded chants but when the rest of the haumana and Kumz chant live you could feel the mana fill the room and give you that bit of energy to get you through practice.
A month after joining AHA, my grandmother had passed away and it put everything (work, school, and dancing) on pause. She was there for my first breath; I was with her at her last. Losing someone that close to me, I felt lost with no direction but I reminded myself that she wouldnāt want me to sit around wasting time. I appreciated the aloha that AHA had shown me and my family during that time.
A year later, my sister had other obligations and so I was driving solo. My fire was burning bright, fulfilling everything I set out to do. I got my preliminary teaching credential, received my masters, and I was able to join the kane in my first hula competition at the George Naāope Hula Festival.
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Fast forward to now, I am training with the pro team on the road to Merrie Monarch. No matter how far the drive or how long the practice, Iāll shed whatever blood, sweat, or tears I can offer. Training for competition isnāt just about knowing the dance, it comes with power, control, and endurance. I know there is a lot I have to learn in a short amount of time but I welcome the challenge and am grateful for the experience that comes with it all. As cliche as it is, stepping on the Merrie Monarch stage, representing AHA, and competing alongside some of the best would mean the world not just for me but for my family and friends who helped me along the way to get to where I am today.
Aloha, āMickeyā Mikey
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