The Japanese people love Hawai'i, but there is a Hawai'i that most Japanese are not familiar with. Our good friend Keola Naka'ahiki Rapozo of FITTED is one of the Directors and caretakers of Kāko'o 'Ōiwi in Kaneohe, Oahu. Kāko'o 'Ōiwi, which means “supporter of Native Hawaiians” in Hawaiian, is a nonprofit organization dedicated to preserving and shaping the inheritance of nature and culture, ensuring that “All people of Hawai'i can live a proper life and eat food from the land.”
Born on this land, raised on it, protecting it, and allowing the next generation to take root here so that the land will never be developed. To protect this place called “Kāko'o 'Ōiwi,” they continue to cultivate “'Ai” (food) and “'Ike” (knowledge). Beyond the main building, what lies before you is the wild beauty of Hawai'i. That mountain shrouded in clouds is said to be called “'ioleka'a” (Rolling Rat).

“My aunties and family have been caring for and protecting this land for generations. My aunty was on the Board of Directors that manages the land, and she told me, 'Now is the time for you to take the lead, to inherit and participate in this project,’ and it has been over 10 years since I became involved. This land is 404 acres, and part of it is regarded as 'Kuleana (responsibility) land,’ or 'land inherited by the family.’ I was born and raised in this area, so my kuleana is to be involved with and work on this land, to think every day about how I can use my skills for its management, and to put that into practice.
When we first inherited this land, there was only one container. From there, over many years, we have built on it piece by piece, discussing what kinds of systems should be created and what can be applied. For me, it has been a challenge to reinterpret and apply the design theory, indigenous knowledge, and techniques that are part of my own work in a modern context. Production facilities, washing packs, refrigeration facilities, the regeneration and cultivation of 'Āina (land), we till the farmland, grow taro (kalo in Hawaiian), harvest it, cook it here, and also process traditional Hawaiian food, Poi (a taro dish). Then, on Fridays and Saturdays, we open a market. We bring the harvested goods here, and everyone drives over to buy them.”

The concept of land division, known as Ahupua'a, has been rooted in Hawai'i since ancient times, in which a single tract of land extends from the mountains to the sea. Within an Ahupua'a, a system of self-sufficiency is established, circulating land resources in harmony with nature. Clouds gathering over the mountains bring rain; the flowing water nourishes the land, supporting agriculture and fishing.
One of the traditional staple foods of this area is taro, one of the canoe plants brought by ancient Polynesians. For Hawaiians, it is an ingredient that symbolizes a spiritual connection with the ancestors, “Hāloanakalaukapalili,” the first Kalo plant. Although it was once widely cultivated throughout Hawai'i, at Kāko'o 'Ōiwi, the taro fields are being restored to conserve the wetland ecosystem and to develop it as farmland.
Keola gave me a taste of kulolo, a dessert made by steaming taro, mashing it into a paste, and mixing it with coconut milk and raw sugar. It had a flavor like a sweet rice cake, reminiscent of uirō (a Japanese steamed confection).

In addition to Kulolo, our most popular item, Kulolo Crunch, is made with whipped cream and macadamia nuts. We also offer Kalua Pig, pork cooked in a traditional underground oven dug into the earth, known as an Imu, and even mushrooms. We also raise sheep and are planning to build a meat-processing facility in the future. We also plant flowers and make leis.
In our generation, by carrying out these kinds of activities, we bring meaning to this land. About five years ago, we restored the area so that water from the mountains could flow out to the sea. Originally, the area was overgrown with mangroves, preventing water from flowing out to the sea. Seawater generates bacteria, so the movement and circulation of water are very important. Fifty years from now, all of this will be passed on to the next generation. Hopefully, children within the organization will take over, then their children after them, and this place will become a base of life that coexists with the community.
Our goal is to deliver 'Ai and 'Ike. Through food and knowledge, we convey Hawaiian things, things of this land. Reviving the land is also, we believe, delivering knowledge to people. One of our missions is to educate people, whether they are tourists, children, or adults. That's why we open our facilities to the public on Saturdays for “Work Day.” By registering through the website, anyone can come and work, for example, clearing fallow land or planting new seedlings. We work in the morning, then share a meal together afterward. That’s our weekly Saturday activity.

Twenty years ago, Keola launched the brand called FITTED, bringing Hawaiian culture and the spirit of aloha through apparel. The shop is located right next to Ala Moana Shopping Center, a popular destination for those who visit Hawaii, yet it draws few tourists; its customers are mostly locals. It’s a shop that likely makes local people feel proud of Hawai'i.
Its baseball caps feature designs like King Kamehameha I and the Hawaiian state flag, Diamond Head on trucker caps, and even collaborations with SCOTT HAWAII, a local Hawaiian slipper brand. At its core is the motto “ALOHA SERVED DAILY.”
Keola says that starting this project has also brought changes to his own life.

“I came here to reconnect with the core identity, to reaffirm my connection to my ancestors. By standing here, on this 'Āina (land), I can actually see the holistic perspective our predecessors once had. When I look at the 'ulu (breadfruit) tree I planted with my daughter when she was two, which, after eight years, is now bearing fruit and has grown taller than 20 feet, I can return to the 'Source’ in a more tangible way.
Researching, reading books, and studying old Mo'olelo (Hawaiian oral traditions of stories, history, and knowledge) are wonderful, but I realized how important it is simply to come here, plant something, paddle a canoe, or cook. The first time we harvested the 'ulu we planted ourselves and made 'ulu bread, it was deeply moving. It had been a dream to open our own market, and now we hold it twice a week.
We started out with just a container, but now we have a building, one we designed and built ourselves. My partner, Blaine, whenever I come up with some crazy idea and talk about it, he figures out how to make it real. He can make anything. I don’t just draw 'Source’ from this land; I also draw it from the people close to me. TET is one of them. In life, when you meet someone who is Maka'ala (keenly aware) or Ma'a (deeply understanding), they naturally embrace these kinds of conversations. Then creating frameworks together becomes easy and fun. Every time I sit and talk with TET, I realize this is what I love.
We don’t talk about design; we tell stories. Over the years, just sitting and sharing stories together has been the greatest reward for me. There are no products. We simply tell stories and enjoy that time together.”

Thick clouds cling to the mountaintops. Moist winds from the sea strike the mountains, bringing life-giving rain. When the sun occasionally peeks through, its scorching rays sear the skin. Kāko'o 'Ōiwi is just steps from the ocean. Riding in the buggy driven by Keola, I toured the entire 404-acre property. Along the way, he introduced me to a man working in one of the rice paddies. This was Lindsey, a food scientist researching rice cultivation, a practice that has disappeared from today’s Hawai'i.

“Lindsey spent many years as the executive chef at Nobu restaurants. After working in Las Vegas, Los Angeles, and Waikīkī, by the time the Ward Village location opened, he thought, 'That’s enough,’ and made up his mind to return to the source of his passion rather than cooking for other people. That’s why now he’s able to focus on a single purpose. There’s a Japanese concept for devoting oneself to one thing. Yes, it was in WTAPS’s philosophy, what TET said: 'Placing things where they should be.’
Lindsey is revisiting rice cultivation, which is said to have begun in Hawai'i in the mid-19th century. Even though rice was once the most important food crop in Hawai'i, it’s no longer grown here. He also played a key role in introducing mushrooms. Most of our innovative food ideas come from Lindsey. He’s not a member of Kāko'o 'Ōiwi, but he’s a major presence.
We’ve spent a lot of time sitting under the roof of the container, asking ourselves, 'What can we do here? What can’t we do?’ and trading ideas while figuring out how to make them real. Blaine and Lindsey have been my friends for many many moons. We drank from the same water, ate the same food. Kāne'ohe is a small place. Big, but small. When you share the same interests, you naturally gather together. Music and a cultural lifestyle brought us together; then food and design led us into friendship.
We’ve built designs together, made art, and even built cars. Blaine found an old Porsche, I think it was a 911, that had been left in a local high school’s paint booth for 30 years, restored it, and got it running again. We’ve made furniture and also built restaurants and my office in Kaka'ako together. Everything is DIY.
Because we have a lot of land and machines, we’re expanding ways to use them and looking for what’s essential so we can nourish people with 'Ai and 'Ike. That’s part of our mission. Today's society is driven by capitalism and tends to focus on getting more than the next person, but here it’s different. Our mission is to do good, to do what’s right. The most important thing is that this land is for the people, for the community. We’re only here for a moment. When we’re done, someone else will come, and then we’ll pass it on. Just as my aunty did for me, I will also watch over it with responsibility and pass it on.”

Keola grew up about 800 meters from here. Until he went out into the city, started his own business, and built his brand, he spent most of his life on this land. Naturally, his DNA is here as well. He says that balancing service and work is essential for both FITTED and Kāko'o 'Ōiwi to thrive. FITTED is the work that supports his family’s livelihood. He also runs personal projects like MAKE READY, which involves art and furniture making, and FADS, an in-house design company that handles large corporate accounts such as Hawaiian Airlines. In contrast, his work with Kāko'o 'Ōiwi is purely volunteer.

“Actually, just recently, we completed a major project for the merger of Hawaiian Airlines and Alaska Airlines. We were responsible for the visual identity for the merger. An interesting story, one of my favorite birds is the Kōlea (Pacific golden plover). I’m even wearing a Kōlea cap today. When Hawaiian Airlines asked me to participate and think about how to visually express the merger, the first thing that came to my mind was the Kōlea.
The Kōlea spends eight months in Hawai'i, then migrates to Alaska to breed and raise its chicks, and then returns to Hawai'i. And it’s not just a single bird; every Kōlea migrates together at the same time. What’s more remarkable is that the same Kōlea returns to the exact same spot every year and nests there for its entire life.
The Kōlea became the basis for the design, and the logo was used across all internal and external communications. At the center of how the merger was communicated was the story of the Kōlea and its flight. Another interesting point is that while the Kōlea leaves its offspring behind in Alaska, those young birds later fly all at once to Hawai'i, finding their way as if guided by a natural GPS. Under the ocean, the Palaoa (sperm whale) moves north and south in a similar way, and above the sky, the Kōlea does the same.
It’s about how to share mo'olelo (stories) and present them in ways people wouldn’t normally think of. If someone wants to understand deeply, that’s fine; if not, they can enjoy it simply as visually appealing graphics. But behind it all, there is always a story. That’s one of the reasons I’m here. Just the other day, I saw a Kōlea. Around the end of August, they arrive from Alaska, and in April, they return. Their plumage changes from golden to black. When they turn black, they gain some weight, which is a signal that they are ready for the long trans-Pacific flight.”

Beyond the building at Kāko'o 'Ōiwi rises a large mountain. When I asked Keola its name, he told me it was called “'ioleka'a”.

“There’s an interesting story about the rats on this side of the island and the rats on the other side,” he explained. “The local rats discovered that the rats from 'Ewa were stealing crops, so they decided to catch them at the ridge and lead them down a shortcut. The 'Ewa rats, unfamiliar with the terrain, began slipping and tumbling down the slope, rolling all the way to the pool of water at the bottom. The local rats watched and laughed at the sight, which is why the mountain is called 'Rolling Rat. You could tell where the rats came from by the color of their feet. Red-footed rats came from the moku of Ewa and the Ko'olaupoko rats had clean feet.’
That mountain over there, too, this whole area is full of mo'olelo. Our land here is state-owned by the Hawai'i Community Development Authority (HCDA). Right now, we have a 38-year lease, but we’re negotiating to extend it to 60 years. In the 1970s and 80s, my aunties were part of a movement to stop developers from turning this place into a marina. It was supposed to become a marina like Hawai'i Kai.
Kāko'o 'Ōiwi exists here to serve the restoration of this land, and as long as we do the work properly, it will not be developed. We hire locals so that local food can be eaten by local people. That’s our mission for the next 50 years.”