O, Ku`uipo, you ask me if I understand
the root of Hawaiian fury
`Ae, I understand
O yes
My chant may be less melodious, harsher to your ears
but the kaona remains the same
I stand, shoulders squared, hands on hips
defying every connotation tied to haole
Only to drop my eyes in shame, fearing
it’s not my kuleana, this battle
How can I comprehend a cultural bomb?
in Wahiawa its explosion came
Right before the downpours, leaving my
face battle scarred
My shrapnel eyes crowned
in defiant brows
In the aftermath I healed alone in the red ginger valley
pretending the blossoms spoke my language
Can I fathom the self-loathing hatched
from constant belittlement?
Stones of it form the paia that rises between us,
rendering my home kapu
Confining me to wander the barren field
of outcast for all time
Do I know what it’s like to be thrust into the role
of second class citizen
In the very land you love? I will tell you,
“No Hawai’i mai au,“
And when you dig for more authentic roots
I will admit that
I make my home in `upeloa because my parents were born
across a sea, in a land I never knew
For this sin, I will forever be untouchable
`Ae, I think I understand
Worse, etched on each Hawaiian hand withheld
guarded behind proud back
Is the accusation that my sorrow isn’t valid
so I pose a question to you, Ku`uipo…
When shall we begin restoration?
©2005 Kate Buccigross
Background: I wrote this poem many years ago as a reaction to the Hawai’ian studies class I took in college. As my kumu (teacher) attempted to give the class a taste of the cultural damage that had been perpetrated on the Hawaiian people by outsiders, basically people who looked like me, I found myself torn between guilt, empathy, and my own bitterness at so frequently being treated as a second-class citizen throughout my life in the land I love.
A guide to the Hawaiian phrases:
- `Ae: yes
- haole: originally any foreigner, over time it has come to mean a white person
- kaona: hidden or double meaning; traditionally, the lyrics of Hawai’ian music have many layers of meaning because of the kaona of many words
- kapu: forbidden
- kuleana: privilege, right and responsibility
- Ku`uipo: sweetheart
- No Hawai’i mai au: I am from Hawai’i
- paia: walls
- `upeloa: sorrow
Photo Credit: Ginger by Sarowen: used under Creative Commons License
I can relate, being a haole born and raised in Hawaii. In a way I’m grateful for the treatment during my youth and part of my adult life. It gives me empathy for people being mistreated and it has made me tough. We live in Oregon now and I long for Hawaii and the culture, Aloha spirit and the food! We went back this summer for a funeral and I can still feel the divide between myself and others. But I also feel so much love from those that I grew up with and the ones that truly know me and my heart. Great Poem! Aloha B
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Your experience sounds very similar to my own. Even when Hawaii doesn’t fully let you in, it has a way of stealing your heart, doesn’t it? Thank you!
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