Stories, Number Four

Well, for this story, I’m going to re-blog a post I wrote ‘way back in 2005, and all in pidgin. Cuz no can write stories about hanabata days in Hawaiʻi without getting da pidgin in dea, yeah?

No ask me why da hill behind my hale stay called “Motorcycle Hill”. Part of da Koʻolau Mountain Range, and not too far from Waʻahila Ridge, rumor had it dat sometimes da kāne would race dea bikes from da top down to da bottom. Adunno if I believe dat, cuz I wen grow up in Mānoa Valley, wea we wen get over 100” of rain a year. U know wat dat means: choke rain. Choke slippery paths, yeah? How going even get one big motorbike up dea? No can do, I think.

But nemmine dat. Wat stay important is wat us keiki wen do, when da sun stay shining, wen our days stay filled wit laffta an joy, an when we had alla time in da world for have fun.

Most of us wen have ti leaf plants growing all around our hale.  So nani dem, but ho, so kolohe us keiki. Wen our maddas no stay lookin’, we wen kakaroach da biggest clumps of ti leafs from da plants… anden we wen meet up in da designated area. Den, all us keiki wen make da long, slippery climb up Motorcycle Hill. Steep da path, an da bugga stay choke wet an so hard for climb. We wen grab onto alla bushes alongside da muddy path for geev us kokua goin’ up da hill. Good ting we stay barefoot, cuz oddawise, no can make it alla way up to da top, yeah? We wen get scratched by alla bushes, but nemmine. Oni good fun!

Finally, we wen make it! We wen look all around. We wen feel like kings of da mountain! We could see alla way to Waikīkī Beach and da wide Pacific Ocean beyond. We wen rest litto bit and wen try foa find guava foa grine… anden! “Eh, u stay ready?” one of da keiki wen ask. “‘Ae, we go anden!”

One by one, we wen take take our clump of ti leaves, an put em wit da stalk facing down for one hando on da path, undaneat our ‘ōkole. Den, wit one yell an one beeg push wit our feets, off we wen go, flyin’ down dat slippery path.

Da path stay so slick dat da ti leaves jass wen slide along like eels. Our whoops of laffta wen echo all chru da hillside as we wen bump an slide alla way down da hill. When we wen finally wen reach da bottom, we all stay covered wit mud from head to toe, an our ‘ōkole stay all sore. We wen look at each oddah, an laff foah da sheer joy of it all, seein’ our white teeth shine out from our dirty brown faces.

Wen I tink back to dose days, I say one “mahalo” to ke Akua, for allowing me to grow up in da most nani ‘āina on da face of da earth. For gimme dat kine freedom, an laffta, an beauty. Now, wen I get wai maka cuz I miss my home so much, I tink back to dose days, an how our laffta wen ring out like church bells in dat nani, verdant valley. My tears get mixed up wit my smiyo…an I feeyo blessed, one keiki o Hawai‘i nei.

This entry was posted in Hanabata Days: Highly Pidgin, Stories and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Stories, Number Four

  1. AFK says:

    Wow, laulau! You guyzes nevah get lickens from yo madda fo comin home all pilau? Oa did you jump into Manoa Stream fo get mos of da mud off you befo you went home? An wat kine pukas yo pants get from dat?
    Make me all kine nostalgic, Moki-chan, fo sma kid time.

    • Mokihana says:

      We wen hose ourselves off first so oua madda neva wen spock um. And da stream sometimes, too, cuz was right behind oua hale! Oh, and sometimes, when rain on da way home! LOL!

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