Hawai'i Ways
Saying it in plantation pidgin
By Tom Shimabuku
Over the years, many things have changed in Hawai'i. Skyscrapers have replaced cottages. Highways have replaced roads. Parks have replaced forests. Even pidgin has changed.
My mom, who worked as a maid for a Caucasian family, never did master the English language. She only spoke Okinawan and Japanese. But she communicated very well in what I call plantation pidgin. Albeit, sometimes in a clumsy manner, but no matter what their native language or ethnic background, she could relate her thoughts to most of the people in Hawai'i.
More than half a century ago, I clearly remember going shopping with mom and listening to how she communicated with people from the various ethnic groups.
I was a little tyke in Honolulu. We would walk from our home to the marketplace in Chinatown on King Street. We lived in a very old duplex on Pawale Lane. Pawale Lane, an offshoot of Fort Street, is no longer there. In its place is the Nu'uanu YMCA.
Holding mom's hand, we would cross Fort Street, near the area now referred to as the Pali Highway. We would pass the many shops which were situated where the Queen Emma Gardens apartments now stands.
Then we would cross Vineyard Street and follow the stream which used to meander alongside the street. The stream is now under the Pali Longs parking lot. It flows under the streets and empties into the river at River Street.
Usually, near Davis Lane, which also is no longer there, we would be greeted by mom's friend, an old Hawaiian lady.
"Mehea go?" she would ask my mom.
Mom would smilingly reply, "I go buy kau kau, maybe sashimi."
"You make wiki wiki. Bumbye no mo fresh aku."
"No pilikia. Get plenty akule."
Turning and walking along River Street, we saw people fishing for 'o'opu, crabs, catfish, crayfish and mullet. The water was unpolluted and clear.
Sometimes we heard a youngster yelling, "Big 'o'opu! Huki da buggah!" Often times we would see the children jumping into the water screaming, "Yambo!"
As we sauntered along River Street, we saw men working on the street and heard their loud conversations.
"Hapai the rock ovah deah."
"No fohget, after pau hana, hana pa'a the gate."
Usually mom and I visited the shops along King Street. The many shops have changed, but the ambiance seems the same today. A great deal of chatter, people questioning prices or the quality of goods. Immigrants speaking their own languages and bargaining in pidgin. Today, added to this shopping melting pot, are Vietnamese, Laotians, Hmongs and Thais.
When mom asked a Chinese butcher for pieces of shrimp, she said in pidgin, "Ah sook, you manuahi shikoshi, you sabe?" Translated: "Mister, give a little extra for free, understand?"
As I think back, my mom communicated using Chinese (Ah sook), English (you), Hawaiian (manuahi), Japanese (shikoshi) and Spanish (sabe), possibly influenced by Portuguese or Filipino.
Literally, "ah sook" is a courteous manner of addressing a male in Chinese. "Manuahi" means free. "Shikoshi" is a little and "sabe" is from the Spanish word saber: to know or understand. Mom put these words together to express her thoughts. Many of the old-timers who did not speak English did the same. They communicated in plantation pidgin. When I tried to speak to my children that way, they could not understand me. But they could understand my "broken English" pidgin.
Many things have changed in Hawai'i. Certainly so has pidgin!
Tom Shimabuku lives in Kailua.
