I ran across the word in a review in the Times Literary Supplement (TLS). Hiraeth is a Welsh term meaning a longing for something that can’t be recovered. Like, for instance, one’s youth; the ten-year-old ball point pen I lost at the Los Angeles Central Library; my friends who have passed on; my 1997 Nissan Pathfinder that was declared totaled by the insurance company for a damaged passenger door; and my first love.
There is something inexpressibly lyrical about certain terms in the Welsh and Anglo-Saxon languages. The following snippet comes from a lament for Hywel ab Owein, a prince of North Wales:
Since Hywel is gone, who bore battle gladly, by whom we used to stand, we are all avowedly lost, and the host of Heaven is the fairer.
Come what may of wealth from land domain, yet this world is a deceptive dwelling-place; with a spear Hywel the Tall, the hawk of war, was pierced.
This afternoon I finally took the plunge. I had been delaying reserving my flight and hotel in Hawaii until Martine got her passport (without which she couldn’t take a flight, as she doesn’t have a REAL ID drivers license). She finally got her passport in the mail on Saturday; and, today I went to the Culver City office of the Auto Club and made our reservation.
Now I have some direction and can do some more detailed planning on destinations and public transportation.
Speaking of direction, the whole north/south/east/west system of directions is generally not used in Hawaii. Think of it for a second: Hawaii is a collection of volcanic mountains upraised from the floor of the ocean. With few exceptions, most people live within hailing distance of the Pacific; and relatively few live in the interior. Therefore, the words Hawaiians most frequently used for directions are maukaand makai—namely, inland and shore.
In Honolulu, the same words are used; but since it is a big city, there are two additional directions: Toward Ewa (west of Pearl Harbor) or toward Diamond Head.
It’ll take some getting used to, but I can understand its usefulness.
Children learning their native language in Hawaii don’t study their ABCs. For one thing, there is no “B” or “C” in the Hawaiian alphabet. In fact, their are only twelve letters in all—the same five vowels we have and seven consonants. Then, too, there is the okina, or glottal stop, which looks like a single apostrophe. You can see it in the above illustration next to the Hawaiian flag.
The sparseness of the alphabet could be the reason there are so many long words in the language. For instance, my favorite Hawaiian singer, the late Israel Kamakawiwo’ole has a name that is virtually unpronounceable to us haoles (i.e., mainlanders). When Bruddah Iz, as he was called, died in 1997 at the age of 38, he was well over 700 pounds. The flag of Hawaii flew at half mast—the only non-governmental-official to be so honored. He had the voice of an angel. I own several of his albums on CD and regard them among my most treasured possessions.
As a rare treat, here is Iz singing “Somewhere over the Rainbow”:
The video also shows his funeral, when his ashes were scattered in the Pacific.
Here are just a few Hawaiian street and neighborhood names in Honolulu. Imagine trying to pronounce them aloud to a native after you’ve had a few drinks::
Sadly, the Hawaiian language is endangered, with most natives reverting to Pidgin, which I discussed in an earlier post.
In Hawaii, there are two official languages—English and Hawaiian—and one unofficial one. I am speaking about the Hawaiian version of Pidgin English. Although it is thought of as being lower in status than the two official languages, it is becoming ever more prevalent as a kind of native slang. It contains bits of English, Hawaiian, Chinese, Filipino, Spanish, Korean, Portuguese, and Japanese. According to one website:
The local patois (Hawaiian slang) was originally developed by Chinese immigrants to make business transactions easier. They created an easy-to-understand lingo and named it “pidgin,” which literally translates to “business.” These days, natives on the islands have adopted this as a means of short-hand speak, as well as a way to mess with tourists.
I can vouch for Pidgin as a way of messing with tourists. Consider the following expressions:
Broke Da Mouth – What delicious food does
Your Kokua Is Appreciated – Your assistance, compliance, or contribution is appreciated
This Buggah is Pau – Your car is finito
Da Kine – Watchamacallit, Thingamajig
B-52 Bombah – Giant flying cockroach
Grinds or Grindz – Food
Hamajang – Something that is messed up, out of whack, disorderly, or needs tending
Kanak Attack – The feeling you’ve eaten way too much
’Ono – Tasty, delicious
Slippas – Flip-fops or sandals
There is an amusing (and very detailed) YouTube video illustrating how Hawaiian Pidgin is pronounced:
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