As many of you know, I am learning Native Hawaiian chants and songs, also called olis. Before the written word, this was how information was passed from generation to generation in Hawaii. This was how cultural memory was preserved. Nowadays, we have our stories, our heroes, our morals in books, we have our cherished memories in photos, but back then, they had the same in song. First, I learned Oli Aloha, and lately I have been sitting on the cliffs overlooking the sea singing Oli Mahalo, a song of gratitude. For friendship, for family, for food, for love and for all our ancestors and teachers around us, both seen and unseen. A generous Hawaiian man, whom I affectionately have nicknamed Tatts because of his prominent traditional Hawaiian tattoos, is kindly sharing his knowledge with me and teaching me the olis. During the slow days before summer kicks off the tourist season on Maui, we have brief windows of time in which I may ask questions and learn, these are hours that I treasure. I am just a baby speaker, still working on pronunciation and basics, and this last time we met, I wanted to sing my gratitude out and have Tatts, with his ear for how Hawaiian should really sound, tell me if I was essentially saying, 'I yam greetfool' or 'I am grateful.' This is incredibly helpful because he has everything that online learning cannot give me, which, believe me, is volumes.
After a couple olis and some helpful tips, we started talking about the language, the pronunciation, and why I want to learn it. To me, it's basic: I live in Hawaii, I should speak Hawaiian. It is part of the place I love. That is my attitude, but I have seen the opposite all too often - it was something that bothered me right away on my very first journey abroad. I was surrounded by people who were visiting a country completely unique to their own and yet expected -in some cases, demanded- that the residents there spoke not their native language but English to them, served them nothing traditional but only foods they recognized from back home. These travelers kept closed minds and dismissed the culture that existed in this beautiful country as though it was less than what America had to offer. By refusing to adapt, refusing to try, expecting to be catered to, they were blatantly disrespecting the locals. The attitude struck me as, "I don't want to have anything to do with your existence, I want to instead replace it with my own. Mine is better." And I couldn't stand it. That's why I broke free of the American group and traveled solo when I was 18. Wherever I went, I learned atleast enough local language and customs to be polite, to respect the locals and their country. Over time, this became a big part of why I travel - to experience, understand and honor what is different.
As I would imagine any conquered country would have, there is a local term in Hawaii for people who are outsiders, who look, well, just like me. The word is 'haole' and is commonly used in a derogatory manner. I recently looked it up to try to understand it better. Haole translates to "no breath" or literally having "no spirit, no life within." As far as put downs for outsiders, that is pretty strong. So how does one as white as me avoid being a haole? By showing up with respect, and with spirit, of course.
So I asked Tatts, "As I learn more, and I go out into Hawaii and speak Hawaiian to native Hawaiians, do you think I will be met with resistance? You know I do this to show them respect, but do you think it will be received in the wrong way?"
He was quiet for a moment, thinking and said, "Yes, you will run into attitudes of opposition. People may hate you for it or be angry with you for speaking their language to them. But what you have to realize is that they are not angry with you. They are upset because you know more Hawaiian than they do."
It's true, I have found it difficult to find people to practice speaking with because not many people in Hawaii (even locals) speak Hawaiian.
"Angry at themselves for not having the same passion to learn it like I do?" I asked. "Ah, you mean transferred emotion."
"Yes. But don't worry about it. When you meet them, you'll know, just turn around and walk away. Don't let it get to you. It has nothing to do with you."
I smiled. "That's excellent advice. Thanks. See what I really don't want to do is speak Hawaiian like the Timeshare sales ladies."
Tatts cocked his head sideways in a questioning glance.
"You know, Stiletto heels, hairspray, walking through the property with guests selling the beach view timeshare units at our hotel. When I pass them, I am normally soaking wet. I'm hauling several tanks in the dive cart, and I am blissfully happy from an amazing day of diving where I introduced children to their first sea turtle. And when I smile with my whole body and greet them, they give me a tight little grin and say in a singsong voice, 'A-Lo-Ha!' bobbing their head with each syllable with hair that is frozen in time and does not move."
I pass these women daily and find such humor in the strong contrast between themselves and I. They smell like Vanilla, I smell like the sea. They wear makeup and copious amounts of hairspray and I wear sunscreen and a smile. They wear Stilettos on a beach, the absurdity of that makes me smile in secret. I wear practical, comfortable shoes that can get wet, that have sufficient traction to not slip when I am towing a couple hundred pounds uphill. My love for the sea is so strong it penetrates my pores, sinks and stays in my bones, sings out from my heart. I have a want to share and protect this magical body of water and the creatures within. Their relationship to the same spit of sand, the same turquoise body is monetary gain. Mind you, I am aware of how I write of the Timeshare sales ladies. Their reality and choices are in distinct contrast to mine, but there's nothing wrong with that. I just find humor in how strikingly different we are on the outside. I don't know them on the inside, but from the reflection I can see, if I had to guess who is happier it would be an easy guess.
"The reason I don't want to sound like the Timeshare sales ladies when I speak Hawaiian," I told Tatts, "Is that it seems insincere, off somehow, like it doesn't belong to them. It's..."
"Hollow." Tatts said, nodding. "I understand. They say it, but do they live it?"
"Mmm." Chills ran down my arms. "Like walking your talk." I said.
"Exactly."
I reflected on this for a moment. There's a reason why, on our island we see the bumper sticker everywhere saying, "PRACTICE ALOHA." See, to the Hawaiians, Aloha means many things: hello and goodbye, sure, but also love, presence, peace. It is more than a word, it is a philosophy, a fundamental code of ethics, it is a way of life. I think this early teaching illustrates it best: "Aloha is being a part of all, and all being a part of me. I respect all that is as part of the Creator and part of me. I will not willfully harm anyone or anything. When food is needed I will take only my need and explain why it is being taken. The earth, the sky, the sea are mine to care for, to cherish and to protect." ...Uh, yeah, a bit more than just hello.
I always come back to my favorite translation. If you take the root words one by one, Aloha means "the joyful sharing of life in the present."
"Don't worry." Tatts told me, "You won't sound condescending, Sara. That's not possible. Because the difference is you are learning, yes, but you already live it. It is who you are. When you live it, you honor it, and it becomes your truth."
I smiled shyly, humbled by his compliment, remembering how weeks ago, this same man looked at me and shook his head incredulously as I was carrying gear up from the beach and passed him smiling. He looked at the employee next to him and said, "She is always smiling and she means it. Hers is the only genuine smile on this entire beach." It's true. I can't help but smile, I am having fun, I love being here, I love what I do, and I love to share that. In radiating my joy out to every stranger and friend I pass, in just showing up the way that is normal for me, I suppose Tatts is right, I am living Aloha.*
So, my reflection to you is: What is your life philosophy? How do you think people should treat one another? What is your truth? You speak it all the time, but are you honoring it by living it? There's no better time than now to begin.
*A special Mahalo nui loa to Tatts. It means so much to me that you are sharing the history, the stories, the songs, the language of your land because I have such a strong wish to learn. And because I love living in Hawaii so much and sincerely wish to respect this place, to honor it. Your time and your teachings are incredibly valuable. Thank you.
