Our Little Hawaiian Cousin

In Short

This book is a piece of early twentieth-century juvenile literature designed to introduce American children to life in the Hawaiian Islands. Through the daily routines of a young girl, the narrative explores local food, traditions, geography, and the impact of Western influence on the archipelago. It serves as a window into the era's educational philosophy, which sought to foster global awareness by portraying the inhabitants of distant lands as relatable "cousins." Its enduring interest lies in its vivid descriptions of a vanishing way of life and its earnest, period-specific perspective.

The Story

The narrative follows Auwae, a ten-year-old Hawaiian girl who lives in a traditional grass hut nestled in a palm grove. The story begins by establishing her idyllic existence, characterized by a deep connection to nature and a life lived largely outdoors. We see Auwae spending her days swimming, weaving floral wreaths, and playing with her friend Upa. The text highlights how her family maintains traditional customs, such as cooking in an earthen oven, while also noting the encroaching shift toward Western-style wooden houses and American school lessons.

As the story progresses, the focus shifts to the cultural and geographical landmarks of the island. Auwae and Upa participate in a "Quarterly Review" at the local church, where they recite verses and sing, illustrating the blend of indigenous identity and introduced religion. The narrative frequently pauses to recount local legends, particularly those regarding the "Menehunes" (dwarfs who built stone structures) and the goddess Pele, who is associated with the active volcano, Kilauea. Despite the Christian influence on her life, the lingering weight of these ancient beliefs remains a palpable, if slightly fearful, part of Auwae’s world.

The second half of the book moves from the village to the mountains as Auwae and Upa’s father prepare for a journey to the crater of Kilauea. This expedition serves as the narrative’s climax, allowing the author to describe the diverse flora and the physical transition from lush forests to the stark, volcanic landscape. During the trip, the children observe sugar plantations where Chinese laborers work under white overseers—a detail that underscores the changing economic reality of the islands.

Upon reaching the crater, the children witness the "house of everlasting fire," a sight that leaves them awestruck. While they pay homage to the goddess Pele by tossing flower garlands into the lava, their behavior is framed as a playful acknowledgment of old superstitions rather than genuine worship. The journey concludes with the pair returning to the village. The story ends on a note of gentle reassurance: though the world outside is changing and modernization is inevitable, Auwae’s home remains a place of peace and continuity, preserving the essence of her heritage even as she grows into a world increasingly shaped by Western ideals.

How It Unfolds

The daily rhythm The story opens by introducing Auwae in her grass home, detailing her simple clothing, her love of swimming, and the communal nature of outdoor dining. We see her mother and neighbors passing the day with laughter and wreath-making, framing their lifestyle as one of perpetual, carefree summer.

The village life The narrative moves to the beach, where Auwae and her friend Upa exhibit their impressive swimming skills. It then shifts to the schoolhouse, where children study in an open-air classroom and compose letters to American pen pals, highlighting the island's integration into the wider world.

The weight of history The book intersperses the children’s adventures with historical accounts, including the arrival of Captain Cook and the displacement of old idol-worship. These beats serve to contrast the "Golden Age" of the past with the modern reality of the church and the plantation.

The journey to the crater Auwae and Upa embark on a thirty-mile ride to the Kilauea volcano, passing through lush forests and bustling sugar plantations. This trek emphasizes the contrast between the natural wonders of the island and the industrial machinery of the sugar mills.

The final encounter The children reach the crater’s edge, where the majesty of the active volcano brings a sense of wonder and terror. After tossing garlands into the fire, they head back to the safety of the village, marking the end of their adventure and a return to their quiet, familiar lives.

The People

Auwae is the heart of the narrative. She is presented as a "plump little maiden" of ten who embodies the grace and health of her environment. Her primary goal is the simple enjoyment of her island home, and she represents the bridge between the old Hawaiian ways—such as her father’s traditional grass hut—and the new, school-taught American influences.

Upa is Auwae’s constant companion, an older boy who shares her curiosity and love for the sea. He serves as an explorer of sorts, pointing out local curiosities like the nesting rats or the best spots for surf-riding. His presence allows the author to show the collaborative, adventurous spirit of the local children.

Hiko is an elderly diver who represents the wisdom and skills of the older generation. He demonstrates the traditional techniques of catching fish by hand, providing a vital link to the past. He is respected by the children and serves as a mentor, sharing stories of the old days and the legends of the Menehunes.

Auwae’s father and mother appear as figures of stability. The father maintains the ancestral home and the cooking pit, while the mother is described as a "grown-up child" who finds joy in the present moment. They do not obstruct the children’s growth, but rather facilitate their journey to the volcano, representing a quiet acceptance of the changing world around them.

In Its Own Voice

"The breeze makes low, sweet music as it moves gently across the tree-tops and keeps company with Auwae's song."

(Describing the peaceful, palm-shaded environment surrounding Auwae’s home.)

"I call it a house, yet many speak of it as a hut."

(Reflecting the shift in perception as the author compares traditional Hawaiian architecture to the wooden cottages being built by white settlers.)

"It is a happy dream, and mother and child and neighbour dance and sing, swim and ride, in sunshine and in rain alike."

(Capturing the author's idealized, idyllic view of the Hawaiian people’s daily existence.)

What It's Really About

The book is an exploration of the "civilizing" influence of the West on a Pacific culture. At its core, it asks how a tradition-bound, agrarian, and communal society adapts to the presence of missionaries, sugar plantations, and American schools. It balances a deep, romantic admiration for the natural beauty of Hawaii and the indigenous skill of its people with an unquestioning belief in the benefits of the "new" modern ways. The underlying tension is between a perceived "childlike" innocence of the past—represented by the grass huts and ancient gods—and a more serious, industrious future. Ultimately, it attempts to frame Hawaii not as a foreign land, but as an extension of the American family, inviting the reader to view the Hawaiian people as "cousins."

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy historical snapshots or early twentieth-century children’s literature will find this book a fascinating time capsule. It offers a rare, if highly filtered, look at the geography and social atmosphere of Hawaii just after the turn of the century. To read it today is to engage with an artifact of its time; the author’s perspective is undeniably shaped by the colonial attitudes of 1902, particularly in the way she characterizes the Hawaiian people as "grown-up children" and treats their ancient spiritual beliefs as quaint superstitions.

The prose is warm and descriptive, often painting vivid pictures of the lush mountain passes, the vibrant colors of tropical fish, and the intimidating power of the Kilauea volcano. While the pacing is leisurely and the tone is didactic, it possesses a gentle, rhythmic quality that captures the slow-moving nature of the island life the author portrays. It is best read with an understanding that it is a period piece—a reflection of how one culture attempted to describe another during an era of significant global expansion. You will likely walk away with a sense of the author's genuine affection for the landscape, even as you navigate the dated assumptions and period-specific biases that define the book’s worldview.