Hawaiian was once spoken by all ethnic groups born in Hawai’i. Immigrants often spoke a broken form of the Hawaiian language called pa‘i‘ai. When the Kingdom of Hawai‘i was overthrown, Hawaiian was banned in the schools and most of the Hawaiian vocabulary of pa‘i‘ai was replaced with English words. As a result of the ban on Hawaiian, Hawaiian children and other non-Anglo-American children in Hawai‘i adopted pa‘i‘ai as their own language between 1900 and 1920. Except for the tiny and isolated island of Ni‘ihau and with a few children raised by their native speaking grandparents, Hawaiian children born after 1920 could not speak Hawaiian fluently. Their language and that of other local people became pa‘i‘ai, popularly called Pidgin in Hawai‘i and Hawai‘i Creole English by linguists.
You might think sixty-five years is enough to finally and surely come out from hiding. I say as much to myself, so it would not be too much to believe you'd think so, too. Sadly, the truth is I continue to hide from time to time and have come to appreciate the wisdom behind making safe places to refuel, shed tears and shed skin that no longer fits.It is important to know when it better to retreat. Here is a story, a short one about retreat ...
MOON TATTOOS
By Yvonne Mokihana Calizar
Copyright, 2012
The shadows always intrigued her, even as a girl-child the patterns that happened onto her skin caused something different. Through the screened window the moon did not ask permission to tattoo her. While everyone else slept, this child made room for the moon and the shadows and grew the voice.
The wind's silent breezes changed the markings that floated onto her small brown arms. In the night 'brown' might have been any number of colors. The ink of moon's stains were always the same and wore itself on all pallets. But, it was the wind that made the tattooed dancers sway and change shape like hula changed the bodies of her aunties when they moved. She watched and let the shapes bathe their way into her blood, carried as messengers to the place where memories swam.
The snoring was such wonderful company for the shadows dancing now across her skin, on the tops of the pillowcases, and the pune'e filled with the rising and falling of sleeping bodies. When the moon bright light filled the night, her thoughts quieted. She rested that part of herself and came loose. No one watched her. No one wondered out loud why she never talked. And, the shadows loved the way she could be still while all the night through her smile was broad across her full face.
"Will she remember," the Silence asked as all there watched her. No voices necessary, among the Shadowed Ones, the Wind teased the etched patterns.
"Her comfort with the moon will be constant, but words will distract her from time to time," the Wind knew of such things and gathered himself into a gust.
"When there is no light for shadows she will find the light that lives just under her skin," the Moon whispered. "Then, her distractions will play with her broad face and tickle smiles and laughter from her."
As if to shake them from their speculations, the pune'e rocked with thunder, sending the quiet away like flies from a pot of stew. The girl laughed out loud with a sound unfamiliar to the family sleeping. Roused from sleep the man lifted his face from his pillowed nest, "Baby girl?" Pretending to be fast asleep, she pulled her thumb back to her mouth and kept her secrets.
MOON TATTOOS
By Yvonne Mokihana Calizar
Copyright, 2012
The shadows always intrigued her, even as a girl-child the patterns that happened onto her skin caused something different. Through the screened window the moon did not ask permission to tattoo her. While everyone else slept, this child made room for the moon and the shadows and grew the voice.
The wind's silent breezes changed the markings that floated onto her small brown arms. In the night 'brown' might have been any number of colors. The ink of moon's stains were always the same and wore itself on all pallets. But, it was the wind that made the tattooed dancers sway and change shape like hula changed the bodies of her aunties when they moved. She watched and let the shapes bathe their way into her blood, carried as messengers to the place where memories swam.
The snoring was such wonderful company for the shadows dancing now across her skin, on the tops of the pillowcases, and the pune'e filled with the rising and falling of sleeping bodies. When the moon bright light filled the night, her thoughts quieted. She rested that part of herself and came loose. No one watched her. No one wondered out loud why she never talked. And, the shadows loved the way she could be still while all the night through her smile was broad across her full face.
"Will she remember," the Silence asked as all there watched her. No voices necessary, among the Shadowed Ones, the Wind teased the etched patterns.
"Her comfort with the moon will be constant, but words will distract her from time to time," the Wind knew of such things and gathered himself into a gust.
"When there is no light for shadows she will find the light that lives just under her skin," the Moon whispered. "Then, her distractions will play with her broad face and tickle smiles and laughter from her."
As if to shake them from their speculations, the pune'e rocked with thunder, sending the quiet away like flies from a pot of stew. The girl laughed out loud with a sound unfamiliar to the family sleeping. Roused from sleep the man lifted his face from his pillowed nest, "Baby girl?" Pretending to be fast asleep, she pulled her thumb back to her mouth and kept her secrets.
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