Puʻuloa carried a deep weave of moʻolelo. Its beloved guardian was Kaʻahupahau, the shark goddess who, with her brother Kahiʻuka, was said to keep the harbor's waters safe for people; tradition holds that the two lived in caves beneath the lochs. Older stories credit the chief Keaunui of ʻEwa with opening the harbor mouth wider to the sea, and a moʻo (water spirit) named Kanekuaʻana with first bringing the pipi to Wai Momi. These were not idle tales but a community's map of its own waters — who watched over them, and how their abundance came to be.
The harbor's other ancient name tells you what made it rich. Hawaiians called it Wai Momi, “the waters of pearl,” for the beds of pipi — native pearl oysters — that once carpeted its shallows. The momi (pearls) inside meant little to those who gathered them; it was the oyster itself, eaten fresh or dried, and the bright mother-of-pearl shell, carved into fishhooks and ornaments, that made Wai Momi a place of plenty. A third name, Puʻuloa, “long hill,” marked the low ridge of land that framed the water. Pearl, garland, long hill — three names for one place, each older than the harbor's later fame.
