Last week I wrote about how pidgin originally developed in Asian ports as a way to converse with European traders. In Hawaii it developed as a way for different nationalities to converse with plantation co-workers.
After World War II, pidgin in Hawaii was taken over by comedians such as Lucky Luck, Sterling Mossman, Lippy Espinda, Booga Booga, Andy Bumatai, Bu Laia, Lisa Matsumoto and Frank De Lima.
The first local comedy album I’m aware of was by K.K. Kaumanua (Kent Bowman). “Pidgin English Children’s Stories” came out in 1961.
Rap Reiplinger, James Grant Benton and Ed Ka‘ahea formed Booga Booga at the Territorial Tavern in 1975. Tavern owner Bob Hampton said, “Before Booga Booga, musical groups like Country Comfort would use everyday English when they spoke to the audience.
“After Booga Booga became popular, most groups slipped into their normal, small-kid pidgin because it was cool.”
Historian DeSoto Brown pointed out that Reiplinger’s record albums were excerpted over and over again on radio stations and echoed in regular island conversations. This codified and standardized many pidgin expressions.
Douglas Simonson’s “Pidgin to Da Max” comic- style book sold an astounding 25,000 copies in its first month in 1981.
I asked retired journalist Don Chapman what effect comedians had on pidgin. “I think what the comics did was promote pidgin pride,” he replied.
“That their audience was largely local speaks volumes about how Hawaii residents celebrate their uniqueness and willingness to laugh at themselves.”
‘No mo’
Several readers shared their favorite pidgin phrases or stories. Deborah Emerson said: “When I was F.O.B. (fresh off the boat), I worked at the Legislative Reference Bureau.
“I had an assignment from a senator. Of course, I was new and had no insider knowledge of the personalities or preferences of the members of the Legislature.
“My boss mentioned, ‘Well … Senator X is … you know, he’s …’
“I was eager for any insights to help me best respond to the senator, and was hoping for guidance such as, ‘The senator is really smart and will understand the complexities of this issue,’ or, ‘You will need to explain this issue in very simple terms.’
“Instead, the great reveal about the senator was … ‘He’s da kine.’
“Later, working at the Attorney General’s Office, I had a few hundred family court cases. My wonderful secretary taught me a lot and was patient with me when I struggled with pidgin.
“I was unable to locate a particular file, so I asked my secretary if she had that file. Her reply? ‘No mo.’
“I thought that meant she didn’t have that file anymore. So I said, ‘Where did it go?’
“Her reply: ‘No mo.’
“‘Did you used to have it?’
“‘No.’ Finally, the light dawned and I asked, ‘So there is no file for that case?’
“‘Yes.’
“Whew!”
Dat obvious?
Gene Kaneshiro said, “While visiting the Sensoji Temple in Asakusa, Tokyo, we spotted two young guys munching on some taiyaki snack, so in passing, I said, ‘Howzit. Ono that one?’
“They both looked at each other and said, ‘Oh wow, we dat obvious?’ To which I responded, ‘Eh, two guys in T-shirts, Bermuda shorts and rubba slippas, walking li’ dat, gotta be from Hawaii!’
“We had a nice laugh, and after discovering they were Hawaiian Air stewards, we parted ways with a shaka and ‘Laters.’
“We can spark ’em anyplace!”
No act!
“When an Asian friend first arrived in Hawaii, she went shopping at Liberty House, former legislator Barbara Marumoto recalled. “Looking for something specific, she asked a salesclerk, ‘Would you happen to have (whatever she asked for)?’
“The clerk, thinking that my friend was local, putting on airs and pulling rank on her, wrinkled up her nose and answered, ‘Wat, you went Punahou?’”
Da kine da kine
Elly Tepper arrived in Honolulu in 1970 from New York City to be a public school teacher.
“The Hawaii Department of Education brochure featured a photo of a young, blond couple, tripping into the surf below Diamond Head, and a banner headline that said, ‘Come and Teach the Children of Paradise.’
“The week before school started, I was at Ala Moana Beach Park with some friends. We were enjoying the water and sharing the space with a local family who were happily chatting away in what seemed like a foreign language.
“I asked my friend what language they were speaking, and she said, ‘It’s English — local pidgin English!’ I was determined to learn it.
“The next week, I started my job, teaching art at Heeia Elementary School in Kaneohe. Nine months later, as we were getting ready for summer break, a fourth grader asked me, ‘Miss Dakine, I can take my da kine da kine?’
“By then I knew exactly what he meant and assured him he could indeed take his art project home!”
Garans ball-bearins
“When I came to Hawaii for graduate studies in 1971,” Ronald Lynch said, “I stayed at the Kalakauan Hotel (later converted to apartments) where UH student housing had rented several rooms.
“While in the lobby, I overheard two of the maintenance staff conversing in what I assumed was a foreign language, based on their accents and unfamiliar words. I eventually realized they were using English or some variant thereof. That was my introduction to pidgin.
“One of the pidgin phrases that I thought was really funny seems to have been short-lived. In the latter part of the last century, people were saying ‘guarans ball-bearins’ in place of ‘I guarantee’ for a while.”
Three, not tree
Bob Hampton, whom I mentioned above, said his classmate Danny Kaleikini gave him a tip about pronunciation. “In 1953 I entered Roosevelt High. I was coming from Pearl Harbor Intermediate in Pearl City, a cane town and military base where many of us grew up speaking pidgin.
“Because Roosevelt was an English Standard school, many of us were concerned about messing up by the way we talked. I was cautioned by Danny Kaleikini to make sure I said ‘three’ and not ‘tree’ if a class counselor showed me a card with that word on it, and then asked me to tell her what it said.”
All bus’ up
Jean Azama said, “Here’s one of my favorite pidgin phrases: ‘I stay all bus’ up!’
“It translates to ‘I’m laid up due to some circumstance — either injured, had too much to drink, etc.’”
Choke
Ron Bode said he likes two pidgin expressions. “Use of the word ‘choke’ for a lot, or plenty. As in, ‘Whoa, brah, the omelet had choke sausage!’
“And when someone does or says something you don’t like: ‘What, brah! Why you gotta make li’dat!’”
Try come
Neala Rickert moved to Hawaii in 1968 when she was 20. “I married my Helemano-based husband, and both of our sons were born here. I got a job as a teller at Bank of Hawaii in Wahiawa. I was the first haole to work there.
“On my first Friday the lines at the bank were long. Those were the days when people lined up for their favorite teller and not one long line like they do today.
“No one was in my line! I thought about it, and the next week, when I again had no one in my line, I beckoned to some people and said, ‘Try come!’ And they did.
“After that I learned plenny good pidgin and had plenny customers in my line.
“We now live in Ashburn, Va. One of the best things about coming back for a visit to Hawaii is getting to talk pidgin.”
Do you have a favorite pidgin expression or story?
Bob Sigall is the author of the five “The Companies We Keep” books. Contact him at Sigall@Yahoo.com or sign up for his free email newsletter at RearviewMirrorInsider.com.
