SPOTLIGHT on Language—The Power of Immersion (Lā‘ieikawai at KT)

by Eleanor Svaton

We think in words and they shape our world, give form, flavor, color, meaning to everything we see, hear, smell, taste, and feel. The only language I’m fluent in is English, though I’ve studied a handful of others, such as Spanish, Czech, and Korean. I’ve learned to talk a little Pidgin and Japanese. And I’ve even learned some ‘Ōlelo Hawai‘i, though not as much as I would like. Why is it that I’ve lived in Hawai‘i for over eleven years but I don’t speak Hawaiian? If I had lived in Korea or Spain or Japan for that long, I would be fluent, for sure. No doubt in my mind. But those are independent nations, and Hawai‘i, once an independent Kingdom, is now occupied by the United States of English… I mean America. 

Hawai‘i was more or less colonized and, through a series of reprehensible events, its people, culture, and, of course, language, severely diminished. For the past four decades or so, though, there has been a cultural renaissance taking place, building in momentum as the years go by. In his 2007 speech in Washington, D.C., Thomas K. Kalukukui, Jr. attributed this “powerful reawakening” to the maiden voyage of the Hōkūle‘a, when a group of “modern voyagers sailed from Hawai‘i to Tahiti and back, using the ancient method of navigating by the stars.” Hawaiian is definitely making a come back. Today, for example, you can get a master’s degree in Hawaiian Studies from the University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa (UHM) from the Hawai‘inuiākea School of Hawaiian Knowledge, something that only came into existence in 2007. 

Another “finally” moment happened recently with the establishment of the Hawaiian Theatre Program in UHM’s Department of Theatre and Dance, which saw its inaugural production over the past two weekends. I attended Lā‘ieikawai this past Friday evening and was completely blown away. It was very likely the most beautiful stage production I have ever witnessed. So completely did the set, the performers, the costumes and colors and design, the music, the movement, and the language combine to fill the voluminous Kennedy Theatre mainstage that I was completely transported, engaged, attentive, on the edge of my seat even. The production was performed completely in Hawaiian. No translation provided. Hitting the Stage staff reviewer Hester Lewellen, a colleague of mine whose writing I respect and appreciate, provided a very positive and thorough accounting of this magnificent production in last week’s issue. Her only negative opinion was the decision by director Tammy Haili‘ōpua Baker not to include super- or sub-titles for non–Hawaiian speaking audience members. “I deplore a choice that leaves out half the audience,” she wrote in her review. I, however, feel compelled to disagree with Ms. Lewellen.

There were many moments over the course of the three-hour-long production on Friday night when I didn’t know what was being said. Many?—Most moments, actually! There were times when I couldn’t follow the plot. There were times when people around me were in on the joke I didn’t totally understand. I was a child, a baby really, and the story I witnessed was an immersion, a birthing into another culture, and it was encompassing in a way I haven’t experienced before. I found myself pleased when I caught the words that I did know the meaning of. I found myself struggling like a child with a puzzle trying to understand more deeply what I was witnessing. I found more than I could describe or articulate. I felt emotionally and intellectually connected to the world of Lā‘ieikawai. I wish I had had a chance to see it more than once. And I am especially thankful that there were no concessions made for the non–Hawaiian speaking members of the audience, or, to be more precise, for the only–English speaking audience members. Watching Lā‘ieikawai made me want to learn Hawaiian—from the language to the stories and the history—the culture of this place I call my home. 

In her article, Ms. Lewellen mentions that “even the Metropolitan Opera of New York eventually caved” and started providing translations for its English-speaking audience. What I would point out, however, is that providing an English translation undermines the entire intention of a program like this, which is NOT merely to show what Hawaiian culture was, but rather to perpetuate and continually vitalize Hawaiian culture now, NOT simply to remember, but to renew and replace, to re-Hawaiianize this place, which means to de-Anglicize this place. The Met offers European operas and with English translations. Okay, fine. But this is a play about Hawai‘i in ‘ōlelo Hawai‘i being performed through the Hawaiian Theatre Program at the University of Hawai‘i. Why, oh for the love of language, why should there be any English? There shouldn’t. And so I applaud Dr. Baker for her exquisite production and her deep understanding of the power of language, a power that would have been severely altered through translation. 

Can any translation to English truly capture a language so closely connected to performance as Hawaiian, so rich with kaona? I’m glad I didn’t have to find out on Friday night. English is my birth tongue, my mother tongue, a part of me as much as my skin and my voice, but I don’t want it at the expense of other language and tongues and skins and voices. E ola mau ka ‘ōlelo Hawai‘i! (If you don’t know what that means, look it up and learn.)