In the heart of the Pacific, the lauded paniolo of Hawai’i have been wrangling cattle and stewarding the land long before cowboys ever gained their fame in the “Wild West.” After the introduction of longhorn cattle to the islands in 1793, they ran rampant for a decade. It wasn’t until Kamehameha III witnessed the skill exemplified by the original cowboys, Mexican vaqueros, that he intervened: Kauikeaouli invited three men back to Hawai’i Island to teach his people how to ranch in an effort to bring the cow population under control.
Hawaiians took to the practice. Aided by their intimate relationship with the land, they nurtured a distinct ranching culture that took the unique volcanic landscape and humid climate into account. Since then, for the last 200 years, paniolo have interwoven themselves into the fabric of Hawaiʻi.
I was blessed as a child to grow up around the paniolo. Many of my cousins and uncles actively wrangled cattle during the week and participated in rodeos on the weekend. This culture shaped my upbringing, and shaped the island. On the slopes of Hualālai, and in the saddle of Kohala and Maunakea — Hawaiian ranching! This nurtured my love for the land and animals, and for years, I was “THE” horse girl in school.
As rodeos and paniolo gained prominence, women have carved a space for themselves. Women learned to ride astride, rather than sidesaddle, alongside the men. Eventually, pāʻū riding turned into a form of pride and pageantry. Women on horseback have learned the assertion required to control thousand-pound beasts, while continuing to exhibit grace and dignity. Paniolo women have always embodied generosity and perseverance, and in the 18th century, one such woman championed Waimea: Anna Leialoha Lindsey Perry-Fiske.
Anna, steward and matriarch of Anna Ranch, learned to rope and ride at a young age. Outcompeting her brothers and inheriting the family’s property in an era dominated by men, she was a celebrated pāʻū rider and earned the title “the First Lady of Ranching.” Steve Bess, trustee at Anna Ranch, describes her as “a little woman, but when she walked into the room, you knew. She was a force.”
Characterized by her whirlwind personality and altruism, her memory and home, the Anna Ranch Heritage Center, would go on to serve as a time capsule after her passing. During her life, however, she would spend several years in Hilo teaching others to wrangle and ride, sharing her knowledge.
Today, in the hills of Mountain View, not far from Hilo, another woman — self-determined and a force to be reckoned with — embodies a spirit akin to Anna Lindsey. Hoku Kaʻawaloa-Eiflander didn’t grow up around horses and rodeos. When she was 10-years-old, she agreed to a nearly impossible contract with her mother: “one year of hard work, no whining, and asking for nothing,” for the opportunity to get her first horse. She taught herself most of what she knows, because no one would teach her.
I connected with Hoku’s story; Like her, I grew up in just enough proximity to paniolo to love the culture and to love horses, but never in it enough to learn. I spent years looking for a mentor, and only recently, at the ripe age of 23, I found one. What I would have given to have a role model like Hoku when I was younger.
Today, Hoku spends her days teaching kids how to ride through Hoku’s Legacy Riders. The difference between cowboys and cowgirls, she described, is that while cowboys tend to be more reserved in their practice, “cowgirls want to share their love.” She shares her horses — a whopping 22 total — with the kids who come and go from the ranch daily.
In addition to riding lessons, she also wants to teach them how to care for their horses, so they can go on to raise their own. She encourages constant vigilance, patience, hard work, and consistency. “A lot of these things we learn in life, horses can teach you.”
From just my time on horseback, our equine friends have much to show us. In addition to the diligence Hoku teaches, riding is capable of honing your connection to your own body. My time spent with the older gelding I’ve been learning on, Tex, has also forced me to be more assertive — a language that’s unfamiliar to me.
Hoku goes to great lengths to make her lessons accessible, despite the rising cost of feed and supplies. Each week, she spends $1,400 on feed for her animals alone, and she relies on donations and seasonal fundraisers to keep her operation going. Despite this, she continues to offer lessons for only $40.
She begins with the groundwork, and builds her mentees’ skills from there. As they progress, students can choose to compete in rodeos or learn how to train their own horses. As Hoku watched her students ride laps around her arena, she commented, “I wish I could do this for free. It’s my passion.”
Similar could be said for my mentor, Barbara Nobriga. She’s an older woman, with a spirit made of fire. My first day learning from her, Tex stomped with impatience as one of the ranch dogs ran around barking. As he lowered his foot, he took a good portion of Mrs. Nobriga’s calf with it. She did not wince, or yip out in pain. Instead, she shoved Tex back from her, a nearly 1,200-pound beast, and tended her wound.
Three decades ago, Mrs. Nobriga taught my mother. There isn’t a lot my mother and I can relate on, but with this, I think we finally have something to talk about. My mom happily tells me stories after my lessons, reminiscing about her time with Mrs. Nobriga, too.
Mrs. Nobriga has been at this a long time. Her family has been at this a long time, too. A fourth generation rancher, and relative of Ikua Purdy (the only Hawaiian inducted into the National Cowboy Hall of Fame), ranching and horses both run in her blood.
Even in her late years of life, Mrs. Nobriga is still taking students under her wing. On some days, school age kids come to Mahealani Ranch, her home, to learn to ride together. Only some of them, she says, are a pain in her ass. Other days, she does, what she calls, “Galloping Grannies,” with the older women in the community. And on Thursdays, it’s just me, learning from a woman I looked up to from afar since childhood.
Hoku was right, when she commented on the difference between cowboys and cowgirls: aloha. It is their love, their generosity, their charity that guides them to share their life’s work. Hawaiʻi and paniolo alike have much to learn from women like Anna Lindsey Perry-Fiske, Hoku Kaʻawaloa-Eiflander, and Barbara Nobriga. Through their giving spirit and can-do attitude, they have shaped the world around them, as well as the next generation on horseback.
NOTE: This story was originally written as a feature for Big Island Now. Read that version here.
