BYUH alumni say sailing the wa‘a taught them unity, trust and shared responsibilities
Steering a traditional Polynesian voyaging canoe isn’t just about physical strength or skill, said BYU–Hawaii alumni. They said it’s a deeply symbolic and cooperative experience that reveals lessons about unity, gender balance and unspoken trust on the open ocean.
Tehani Tevaga, a hospitality and tourism management graduate from Laie, said serving on the hoe uli, or steering paddles, taught her that success on the waʻa requires coordination and shared purpose. “Steering both hoe can take about six people. That’s why communication and synchronization are essential,” she said. There were moments, she recalled, when her crew operated in near-perfect sync without needing to speak. She said it was impressive how often the crew achieved that harmony instinctively.
Tevaga also said she found deep meaning in the canoe’s steering system, which uses two paddles—one representing wahine (women) and the other kāne (men). For her, this design reflects a deeper cultural truth. “They have to stay in harmony for the canoe to move forward,” she explained, saying it reminds her that men and women are created equal. “Our responsibilities might be different, but both are necessary not just on the waʻa, but in everyday life,” she added.
She said the experience reminded her how essential cooperation is when paddling with others. “If your crewmates can’t collaborate and work well with one another, the waʻa won’t be going anywhere,” she said. “Thankfully, our crew worked really well together. We shared our kuleana and got things done with ease.”
It was a beautiful thing to witness, especially when we were steering. Everyone was moving as one.
Despite their differences in background, age and experience, Tevaga said the crew was united by a shared love for the canoe. “It was a beautiful thing to witness, especially when we were steering. Everyone was moving as one,” she said.
Levi May, a 2017 graduate in international cultural studies from Hauʻula, said he had a similar realization while serving as watch captain aboard the Iosepa, where he helped ensure the safety of the crew and canoe while supporting others in seamanship and leadership. “One of my biggest takeaways was learning to live peacefully with people of different personalities in a tight space—something that required patience, empathy and humility,” he shared. Steering Iosepa, he added, was physically demanding and required precise teamwork. Unlike other vessels he had sailed, he said the Iosepa needed multiple crew members working as one on the hoe.
“At first, I tried to talk a lot to guide everyone,” he said. He realized, however, that the ocean and the waʻa will always show him what to do—a sensation he described as a guidance that naturally extends from him, the watch captain, to his crew.
Eventually, the team could navigate with minimal words. To me, that was magic.
May said he felt humbled when his crew, whom he deeply admired for their strength and character, looked to him for guidance. “I was very impressed with the crew—their abilities, strength and humility,” he expressed. He said their trust deepened his sense of kuleana and taught him the power of quiet leadership.
Elijah Ebert, a political science graduate from Virginia, said sailing aboard the Iosepa last year taught him the importance of unity and shared purpose. “On the canoe, everyone looks out for each other like family because safety is top priority,” he said. That sense of community extended beyond safety, he added, as the crew celebrated together. “Whenever we saw a shark, dolphin or something else exciting, our immediate reaction was to tell everybody so they could be excited too.”
One of his most memorable roles, Ebert said, was helping steer the Iosepa using a method that involved three crew members on each sweep. “When we needed to turn to starboard [to the right], we pushed the very large and heavy sweep handles to port [left] and vice versa,” he said. While rounding Kaʻena Point, Ebert recalled strong waves and wind requiring precise communication. “I called out, ‘Slight port,’ ‘Slight starboard,’ and other commands to keep Iosepa going straight,” he said.
One challenge, he shared, was staying aligned with the boat towing them. Predicting the vessel’s movements and the incoming waves was difficult but rewarding, Ebert said. “It’s amazing what I was able to learn in such a short time, and it reminded me those who did it all the time in centuries past must have been incredibly skilled.”