Parlez-vous Pidgin?

When I was on Maui last month for the Wa'a Kiakahi sailing canoe race, another journalist riding on the escort boat turned to me after riding the waves for several miles, and said of the boat crew, "They're speaking a dialect I don't understand."

"That's Pidgin," said I, which contributed nothing to her understanding. "O-o-o-kay," she said, "but what language is it?"

"English!" I answered, while wondering what da kine journalist she was supposed to be.

"Have you noticed the frequency of the expression 'da kine'?" I asked. She nodded. Oh yeah. Like every other word. I told her it meant "uh," "er," "whatchamacallit," "whatever," or, well, whatever.

To be honest, I'm rather new at Pidgin myself, and most of what the escort boat crew said was Greek to me. Didn't understand them, but appreciated the good work they did watching out for the paddlers' safety and towing the stragglers, as pictured to the left.

So, with happy memories of riding on that boat with the cheerful crew (especially Gully Boy -- I still got yo numbah, you buggah!), I decided to talk about Pidgin for my Fun Fact at hula class this week.

Like everything else I've been learning about Hawaiian culture, it turned out to be pretty interesting. Pidgin, which is more properly called Hawaiian English Creole according to the linguists, had its beginnings in the late 1700s with the introduction of Chinese Pidgin, which English and American traders used when selling their cargos of furs in Canton. The sugar cane and pineapple plantations were established in the early 1800s and workers came from all over the world. The common language the workers devised had elements of Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Portuguese, Spanish and Tagalog, the language of the Philippines.

Pidgin gained strength as a language after the New England missionaries imposed their English-only rule in the 1870s. By the 1920s, Pidgin was the dominant language in the Hawaiian Islands.

It's still prevalent, a hodge-podge of languages with an English base. The grammatical constructions actually come from Portuguese, but there are words from all the contributing cultures.

There are Pidgin grammars and dictionaries available, such as "Pidgin To Da Max," and "Da Kine Dictionary." Novelists, poets and playwrights compose in Pidgin. I've read some of the Pidgin writings of Hilo poet and novelist Lois-Ann Yamanaka.

The New Testament has been tranlated into Pidgin. It's called "Da Jesus Book." Even Shakespeare got the treatment. His play, "Twelfth Night or What You Will," has a Pidgin equivalent that has been produced on Hawaiian stages: "Twelf Night o' Whateva."

There are those language snobs and educators who believe Pidgin speakers are handicapped. But I say, don't go pullin' another missionary thing and try banning Pidgin. Hawaiian nearly died out because of such meddling. Personally, I love to hear spoken Pidgin. Riding in the escort boat with the cheerful crew was a delight. Couldn't understand what the hell they were talking about, but maybe dat's mo bettah, yeah?

Wa'a Kiakahi

Here's more on the sailing canoe race I attended on Maui at the end of last month. I was invited by the Ka'anapali Beach Resort to ride on an escort boat along the 30-mile route from Kahului Harbor west and then south to Ka'anapali in West Maui.

There were nine sailing canoes, known in Hawaiian as wa'a kiakahi, which means single-mast canoe.

Another type of Hawaiian sailing canoe is called a wa'a kaulua, which means double-hulled canoe. That's the same kind as the Hokule'a, the famous Polynesian voyaging canoe that has been retracing ancient routes that the early Hawaiians followed. In February 2011 it will embark on a two-year, round-the-world voyage.

The smaller wa'a kiakahi has spaces for six paddlers. Most of the teams had chosen lighter people, assuming that the wind would fill the sail and they'd just ride the waves in relative ease. But there was hardly any wind on May 29. The team from Kaua'i that won the race gambled and won by choosing heavier, more powerful paddlers for the nearly four-hour race. In fact, six out of the nine boats had to be towed by the escort boats in order to finish the race before dark.

The next day was devoted to educating the public about the canoes. Except for the fact that the hulls and arms are fiberglass , everything else about them is traditional. The parts are all lashed together with cotton cord, with knots that have been used for millennia by Polynesian sailors. In the old days, however, the sailors made their own cord.

Anyone who wanted could give paddling a try. Thanks to ace photographer Susan Seubert, I am immortalized in her photo, above. I had a blast -- for the first 10 minutes or so. How those paddlers can keep up that grueling pace for hours on end, I don't know. One guy told me that the longest his team had paddled in a race was almost 12 hours straight. And his team was the winner, so that was the fastest time!

The next morning, the nine teams were off again, on the next leg of the race, this time from Ka'anapali, Maui, to the island of Moloka'i, a trip slightly longer than the voyage from Kahului to Ka'anapali. Before they departed, all the paddlers gathered in a circle and held hands as the beautiful Makalapua Kanuha, pictured at right, performed a blessing and oli (chant) to speed them on their way.

And then they were off again. The teams expected to reach Moloka'i by lunchtime, earlier if the wind ever picked up. After resting, partying or whatever, the paddlers would return to their own homes and then return to Moloka'i in time for the next leg of the race, July 11, from Moloka'i to Kailua, O'ahu. The entire race, which began May 9 with a race from the Big Island to Maui, will not be complete until August 15. That's when the teams will race from Haleiwa, O'ahu, to Poipu, Kaua'i. And then finally, they'll hang up their paddles -- until the next race.