March On, a Short Film by Courtney Takabayashi

March On

Come along with Joe and Mara as they hunt for the night marchers in March On, the hilar­i­ous­ly spooky video by my friend, the writer and sto­ry­teller Court­ney Tak­abayashi. Be sure to watch through the cred­its for the lov­able eccen­tric, Uncle Kimo. Court­neyʻs video is a past win­ner of the Hal­loween Video Con­test spon­sored by the Hon­olu­lu Star-Adver­tis­er and Hawaii News Now.

The work­ing mom of a tod­dler and a cou­ple of fun-lov­ing cats, Court­ney admits that her web­site is a bit out of date, so to con­tact her, fol­low her on Insta­gram

Post­ed with per­mis­sion by Court­ney Takabayashi. 

Moke Action, by Award-Winning Native Hawaiian Filmmaker ʻĀina Paikai

pupu-a-o-ewa-logoHawaiʻi Cre­ole Eng­lish — called “pid­gin” by its native speak­ers — dates back 100 years to the sug­ar plan­ta­tion days. Immi­grant work­ers, first from Chi­na, then Japan and oth­er coun­tries, need­ed a way to com­mu­ni­cate with their fel­low work­ers and with the peo­ple who lived among them, the Native Hawai­ians. Pid­gin is still spo­ken in Hawaiʻi, and being flu­ent is a source of great pride by its speak­ers. Pid­gin is what makes us local.

One of the most pop­u­lar videos we pub­lished at Pūpū was this lit­tle gem, Moke Action, an ear­ly film direct­ed by the tal­ent­ed Native Hawai­ian film­mak­er ʻĀi­na Paikai. Not sur­pris­ing­ly, ʻĀi­na would go on to make many award-win­ning short films, includ­ing the won­der­ful Hawai­ian Soul in 2020. Moke Action, star­ring Bru­tus LaBenz, Brah­ma Fur­ta­do, and Liona Arru­da, is the tale of two young men who near­ly get into an unfor­tu­nate scuf­fle. Hap­pi­ly, they are pre­vent­ed from com­mit­ting vio­lence, thanks to their respect for their elder. Or, in pidgin:

Two guys like scrap til aun­ty wen scold dem.

Exact­ly.

Post­ed with per­mis­sion by ʻĀi­na Paikai. 

E Heluhelu Kākou: No ke Anilā

E-heluhelu-kakou

The Hawai­ian lan­guage — ʻŌle­lo Hawaiʻi — is a beau­ti­ful, rich lan­guage. Thanks to the inter­net, ʻōle­lo can now be heard across the globe. E-heluhelu-kakou

Read-aloud ver­sions of chil­drenʻs books in Eng­lish are read­i­ly avail­able online. And now thanks to Kame­hame­ha Pub­lish­ing, books in ōle­lo are, too.

I am pleased to fea­ture No ke Ahilā — Our Hawaiʻi Weath­er, a delight­ful bilin­gual board­book for kei­ki, writ­ten by Kaulana Domeg and Mahealani Kobashigawa and read by flu­ent ʻōle­lo speak­er, and won­der­ful pre­sen­ter, Mak­iʻilei Ishihara.

Cred­its: Used with per­mis­sion from Kame­hame­ha Schools (Maha­lo!)

A Nation of Our Own, Spoken Poetry by Chris Oliveira

pupu-a-o-ewa-logoNative Hawai­ians have a rich oral tra­di­tion that spans over a thou­sand years. Our sto­ries are told in many forms: songs, chants, hula, leg­ends, ʻōle­lo noʻeau, and word play. Mod­ern Hawai­ians con­tin­ue our ancient tra­di­tion by weav­ing their sto­ries into beau­ti­ful spo­ken poetry.

Chris Oliveira is a flu­ent Hawai­ian lan­guage speak­er and a ded­i­cat­ed Hawai­ian activist. Hail­ing from the Waiʻanae Coast, he is the Vice Pres­i­dent and Exec­u­tive Direc­tor of Koa ʻIke, a com­mu­ni­ty non-prof­it orga­ni­za­tion that focus­es on place-based, ser­vice learn­ing edu­ca­tion­al ini­tia­tives and stu­dent exchanges.

First pub­lished in 2014 by Pūpū A ʻO ʻEwa, A Nation of Our Own is a pow­er­ful, provoca­tive lamen­ta­tion on the loss of our sov­er­eign­ty dat­ing to the 1893 U.S.-backed coup dʻe­tat that over­threw our indige­nous gov­ern­ment. Maha­lo nui, Chris.

Watch our inter­view with Chris

A Nation of Our Own, by Christophor Oliveira

When will there be an end to this occu­pa­tion, a nation of our own choosing

Imbed­ded in the pop­u­la­tion were wait­ing for retribution

Sus­pend­ed in ani­ma­tion by paper­work so confusing

Their faulty doc­u­men­ta­tions for fak­ing a revolution

Pre­tend­ed the annex­a­tion with a blem­ished joint-resolutions

The same old oper­a­tion they’ve been using since since back with Newlands

A gen­er­al paci­fi­ca­tion intend­ed as restitution

But we want repa­tri­a­tion and the rein­state­ment of our constitution

Now we con­tend with the aggra­va­tion, the sen­tence is destitution

With the falsest of alle­ga­tions imple­ment­ing our execution

We suf­fer from mass enslave­ment they prof­it off institutions

Were put in for mis­be­hav­ing, but their guiltʻs already been proven

Much more than edi­fi­ca­tion were offend­ed and disillusioned

So we focus on edu­ca­tion and noth­ing less for our future

Look to our past in admi­ra­tion in rev­er­ence for our kupuna.

Cred­its: Post­ed with per­mis­sion by Chris Oliveira. Per­for­mance record­ed by Lee­ward Com­mu­ni­ty Col­lege Edu­ca­tion­al Media Cen­ter; inter­view video by Rok­ki Midro.

Ka Maile, a Mele Aloha by Kahaulahilahi Vegas

Lahi Vegas

pupu-a-o-ewa-logoNative Hawai­ians look to our kūpuna — our elders — to help us find our path­ways through life. They guide us by their spir­i­tu­al wis­dom through per­son­al, famil­ial or com­mu­ni­ty dif­fi­cul­ties. Kūpuna are the source of expe­ri­ence, knowl­edge, guid­ance, strength and inspi­ra­tion to the next gen­er­a­tions, a rich resource to con­tribute to the bet­ter­ment of the Hawai­ian people.

Kahaulahi­lahi Vegas is a flu­ent Hawai­ian lan­guage speak­er whose fam­i­ly is from both Molokaʻi and Oʻahu. After grad­u­at­ing from Lee­ward Com­mu­ni­ty Col­lege and the Uni­ver­si­ty of Hawaiʻi-West Oʻahu, Lahi is pur­su­ing her PhD degree in Pub­lic Health at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Hawaiʻi-Mānoa. Her goal is to help the Native Hawai­ian community. 

Lahi Vegas also loves to com­pose. To hon­or her beloved kūpuna, she com­posed her mele alo­ha, Ka Maile, which we pub­lished at Pūpū A ʻO ʻEwa in 2015. She cred­its her grand­par­ents for pro­vid­ing the foun­da­tion of her lifeʻs path. Lahi says she will always be inspired by her kūpuna: He alo­ha pau ʻole — a love with­out end.

Watch our inter­view with Lahi in both ʻōle­lo Hawaiʻi and ʻōle­lo haole. Maha­lo nui, Lahi.

Cred­its: Used with per­mis­sion by Kahaulahi­lahi Vegas. Per­for­mance record­ed by Lee­ward Com­mu­ni­ty Col­lege Edu­ca­tion­al Media Cen­ter; bio video by Rok­ki Midro and Mau­na Burgess.

I am a Farmer, Revisited, by Sheila Arasato

I am a Farmer

pupu-a-o-ewa-logoThe best years of my pro­fes­sion­al life were as a pro­fes­sor at Uni­ver­si­ty of Hawai’i — Lee­ward Com­mu­ni­ty Col­lege. I taught lin­guis­tics and busi­ness writ­ing cours­es to thou­sands of stu­dents, who impact­ed me in such pro­found ways. I was so lucky to have a job I loved.

One of the activ­i­ties Iʻm most proud of is found­ing and pub­lish­ing Pūpū A ‘O ‘Ewa Native Hawai­ian Writ­ing and Arts. The web­site has a dif­fer­ent look and mis­sion now, but dur­ing my time, everyone—students, fac­ul­ty, staff, and com­mu­ni­ty members—was invit­ed to sub­mit, regard­less of eth­nic­i­ty, and the only require­ment was that the work be some­how relat­ed to Native Hawai­ian cul­ture. From 2011–2016 we pub­lished over 100 videos, music, pho­tos, and sto­ries. Those works are archived at Pūpū, but I think my blog is a good place to fea­ture some of them again. The works and their cre­ators deserve to be seen and appreciated.

One of my favorite videos is I am a Farmer, a thought-pro­vok­ing and visu­al­ly stun­ning video cre­at­ed by Ke Ala ʻIke Schol­ar Sheila Arasato and based on an orig­i­nal work per­formed by her sis­ter, the tal­ent­ed Uʻi­lani Kumuhone. We first pub­lished this video on April 10, 2016, I asked Sheila why she revis­it­ed her sis­terʻs poem. Her reply? “There was more sto­ry to tell: who you are in this ʻāi­na, and what are you doing to make it a bet­ter place?” Excel­lent ques­tions. Maha­lo nui, Sheila and Uʻilani.

Pho­to cred­it: Sheila Arasato