Long ago there were two brothers who lived in the village. One of them, Kamiki, was kind, considerate, and hardworking. The older brother, Omokaʻa, was lazy and refused to fish or work, instead wandering from house to house for food. This angered Kamiki, and finally the day came when Omokaʻa was forced to move out.
Omokaʻa built his home at the edge of the village. Soon, travelers passing on their way to Kona or Kaʻū began to vanish. Every time a traveler came by, Omokaʻa killed them and baked the body in his imu. This became his food.
Eventually, Omokaʻa met a girl from the village who also desired baked human flesh. They married and lived together. When travelers came, they would invite them to rest on their lānai, offering cool water after a long walk in the sun. As the travelers drank, Omokaʻa struck them on the head with a club. Their bodies were cooked in the imu, and he and his wife feasted.
Smoke was always rising from Omokaʻa’s place. Some villagers wondered if he had finally become a good worker, while others grew suspicious. They said nothing but quietly shunned him.
One day, Kamiki waited for ʻohana who never arrived. Uneasy, he decided to visit his brother. Though he had heard dark gossip about Omokaʻa and his wife, he didn’t want to believe it. When he arrived, the couple was gone. Kamiki waited, then wandered inside.
In one corner stood a large calabash. Lifting the cover, Kamiki smelled roasted meat, but inside he saw a human hand, legs, and body parts. Nearby lay a pile of bones and skulls. Sickened, he looked for a place to hide as he heard footsteps approaching. The only spot was behind folded tapa cloths. He slipped out of sight just as Omokaʻa and his wife entered.
From his hiding place, Kamiki watched as Omokaʻa lifted the calabash, pulled out part of a leg, and began eating. His wife reached in and brought out a hand, gnawing at it beside him.
Kamiki’s stomach turned with rage and revulsion. Then he caught sight of one of the tapa cloths near him. He recognized its design – it belonged to his missing ʻohana.
Consumed with fury, Kamiki waited until his brother was nearly asleep, then leapt out and attacked him, nearly beating him to death. His wife pleaded for mercy. Kamiki told them they had eaten their own family, for he had recognized the tapa.
Begging for their lives, Omokaʻa and his wife promised never again to eat another human being. Kamiki spared them but banished them from the village.
Omokaʻa moved farther down the coast near Miloliʻi, and that place came to be called Omokaʻa (after the murderer). His wife settled a few miles away, and her dwelling became known as Okoe (named after the murderess). True to their word, they never killed again.
And that is the end of this strange and frightening tale.
This tale was told by Tūtū Kipi Keliʻikuli Kaʻanaʻana to Aunty Mona Kahele in 1946. It is recorded in Aunty Mona’s journals and in her book “Clouds of Memories.”
