FAMILY MATTERS
Curious son makes life interesting
By Ka'ohua Lucas
Almost everyone can think of someone in the family whom we may fondly refer to as a "busybody."
There was a busybody on the old television show, "Bewitched." While Samantha Stevens, the neighborhood witch, made things happen simply with the twitch of her nose, her meddlesome busybody neighbor, Gladys Cravitts, would peep through drawn curtains in her home, complaining to her husband George about the strange things that went on at the Stevens' residence.
Inquisitiveness — some people call it "an inquiring mind." Others say it's a thirst for knowledge. My mom calls it healthy curiosity.
I call it being niele, or curious. (Contrary to popular belief, niele doesn't necessarily mean nosy; that would be closer to maha'oi, which means bold or impudent.)
My 12-year-old son certainly has the goods over Gladys.
It all started not long after he emerged from the womb. At 12 months, his baby sitter remarked how resourceful he was using the jalousies in her home as a ladder. I think it was because he wanted to experience the exhilaration of free-falling to a cushioned couch below.
When he was 3, we went to cheer for our daughter as she competed in a volleyball tournament. After the final match, we made our way out of the gymnasium, but not before our little cherub pulled the fire alarm.
"Daddy," he said, his big, brown eyes looking up at us as the alarm blared. "I wanted to see what would happen if I pulled it."
Fire trucks arrived with sirens wailing, and we spent the next half hour apologizing to the authorities for our son's unexpected behavior.
Believe it or not, that same afternoon, I was complaining about a sprained finger, when Dad said jokingly, "Well you better call 911 for that."
My son immediately ran over to the phone and punched in the numbers.
Within 15 minutes, a police car arrived on our property, and my son had to explain to the officer what he had done.
Early Hawaiians had an 'olelo no'eau, a wise saying, for people who were extremely curious: Alahula Pu'uloa, he alahele na Ka'ahupahau. Translated, it means: Everywhere in Pu'uloa is the trail of Ka'ahupahau.
Mary Kawena Pukui, the late Hawaiian scholar and author of "'Olelo No'eau: Hawaiian Proverbs and Poetical Sayings," explained the phrase's significance: "Said of a person who goes everywhere, looking, peering, seeing all, or of a person familiar with every nook and corner of a place. ... Ka'ahupahau is the shark goddess of Pu'uloa (Pearl Harbor), who guarded the people from being molested by sharks. She moved about, constantly watching."
My oldest son can be compared to Ka'ahupahau. He never misses a beat.
When he was 4, he showed me a piece of asphalt he had found outside our home.
"Look, Mom," he said.
Unsuspecting, I shrugged and said, "That's nice."
In a split second, he had taken the tar-laden mass and shoved it up his right nostril.
As he wailed, writhing in pain, I screamed and ran to his aid, hollering, "Why did you do that?"
Amid tears, he confessed, "I just wanted to see how far it could go."
And we are waiting to see how far he will go with his insatiable curiosity.
Ka'ohua Lucas has an 18-year-old daughter and two sons, 12 and 8. She hold a master's degree in education curriculum and instruction, and works as an educational consultant on Hawaiian curriculum. Write to her at: Family Matters, Island Life, The Honolulu Advertiser, P.O. Box 3110, Honolulu, HI 96802; e-mail ohana@honoluluadvertiser.com or fax 535-8170.
