Every morning, his whole name — Kawehi, Maui

My son's name is six parts long. I will not say the whole of it here, because his name belongs to him before it belongs to a website. But I will tell you that it carries his great-grandfather, the place he was born, and a small thing the wind was doing the morning he arrived.

I say his full name to him every morning. He is two. He cannot say it back yet. He recognises the shape of it the way a child recognises a song before the words.

I do this because I did not have it.

I grew up here, on Maui, with a Hawaiian name nobody used. At school, my teachers shortened it on the first day, to fit it into the roll-call rhythm of the morning. By the second week, even my friends had taken to the short version. By the third week, I had taken to it myself. By the time I was twelve, the long form of my own name sounded foreign in my own mouth. I could feel the syllables the way you feel a bone you broke in childhood that did not heal quite right.

I made my peace with it for a long time. I told myself it did not matter. The shortened name was practical. It was what people called me. I was the same person either way. This is the lie a place can tell you about itself: that the names it accepts are not making any choice.

But every name is making a choice. The names a place will say easily are the names it has decided to keep. The names it will not say — the names it shortens, mispronounces, asks you to spell — are the names it has, at some level, agreed to lose.

When I had my son, I sat on the floor of the room they let us stay in for two extra nights and I said his full name aloud, slowly, six parts of it, into the side of his head. He was twenty-six hours old. I said it like an instruction. Not to him — to myself. I told myself: this name will be said in this house every morning. Nobody will get to shorten it before he can defend it.

I keep that promise. I make it part of the morning the way the kettle is part of the morning. I stand in front of him in his high chair and I say his full name, and then I say "good morning" in English, and then I kiss his head, and then he gets his banana. The whole thing takes nine seconds.

He does not know yet what he is receiving. He thinks his mother is just a person who says a long sound at him before breakfast. He is right. He is also wrong. The long sound is a small map. It tells him, every morning, where his great-grandfather is buried. Where the wind was the day he was born. Which auntie chose the second part. Which kupuna sat with me on the porch and gave me the third.

When he is twelve, and someone tries to shorten his name to fit it into a roll call, he will have something I did not have. He will have heard the long form, every morning of his life, in his mother's voice. He will know the shape of it the way you know a road you have walked since you could walk. Whatever the new place tries to do, the long form will be in his bones.

That is what I am building, every morning, in nine seconds. I am building a child who will not have to choose between being from somewhere and being himself.

He pālapala mua kēia. This Hawaiian translation is a working draft pending review by an ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi educator. Hale Moʻolelo publishes finalised translations only after review.

ʻEono mahele ka inoa o kaʻu keiki. ʻAʻole au e haʻi i kona inoa piha ma ʻaneʻi, no ka mea, no ia kona inoa ma mua o ka pūnaewele. Akā, e haʻi aku au iā ʻoe, ke hāpai nei kona inoa i kona kupuna kāne, ka wahi i hānau ai ʻo ia, a he wahi mea i hana ai ka makani i ke kakahiaka i hiki mai ai ʻo ia.

ʻŌlelo aku au i kona inoa piha iā ia i kēlā me kēia kakahiaka. ʻElua ona makahiki. ʻAʻole hiki iā ia ke ʻōlelo hou. ʻIke ʻo ia i ka helehelena o ka inoa, e like me ka ʻike ʻana o ke keiki i ke mele ma mua o ka ʻike ʻana i nā huaʻōlelo.

Hana au i kēia, no ka mea, ʻaʻohe oʻu ia.

Ua ulu au ma ʻaneʻi, ma Maui, me kekahi inoa Hawaiʻi i hoʻohana ʻole ʻia. Ma ke kula, ua hoʻopōkole nā kumu i koʻu inoa i ka lā mua, i mea e komo pono ai i ka pā o ka helu inoa o ke kakahiaka. Ma ka pule ʻelua, ua hoʻohana koʻu mau hoaaloha i ka inoa pōkole. Ma ka pule ʻekolu, ua hoʻohana au iaʻu iho. I koʻu wā ʻumikūmālua, ua kani ka inoa lōʻihi e like me ka ʻōlelo malihini i loko o koʻu waha. Hiki iaʻu ke ʻike i nā kani e like me ke ʻike ʻana ʻoe i ka iwi āu i uhaʻi ai i kou wā kamaliʻi, ʻaʻole i ola pono.

Ua hoʻomaha au me ia no ka manawa lōʻihi. Ua haʻi aku au iaʻu iho ʻaʻole ia he mea koʻikoʻi. He inoa kūpono ka inoa pōkole. ʻO ia ka mea a nā kānaka i ʻōlelo iaʻu. ʻO wau ia kanaka hoʻokahi. Eia ka wahaheʻe e haʻi mai ai kahi iā ʻoe iā ia iho: ʻaʻole koho nā inoa āna e ʻae ai.

Akā, e koho ana nā inoa a pau. ʻO nā inoa e ʻōlelo māmā ai kahi, ʻo ia nā inoa āna i hoʻoholo ai e mālama. ʻO nā inoa āna e ʻōlelo ʻole ai — nā inoa āna e hoʻopōkole ai, e ʻōlelo hewa ai, e nīnau iā ʻoe e haʻawe — ʻo ia nā inoa āna i ʻae ai e nalowale.

I koʻu hānau ʻana i kaʻu keiki, ua noho au ma ka papahele o ka lumi a lākou i hāʻawi mai iā mākou no ʻelua pō hou, a ua ʻōlelo aku au i kona inoa piha, mālie, ʻeono mahele ona, i ka ʻaoʻao o kona poʻo. He iwakāluakūmāono hola kona makahiki. Ua ʻōlelo aku au e like me he kauoha. ʻAʻole iā ia — iaʻu iho. Ua haʻi aku au iaʻu iho: e ʻōlelo ʻia kēia inoa i loko o kēia hale i kēlā me kēia kakahiaka. ʻAʻohe mea e hiki ke hoʻopōkole iā ia ma mua o kona hiki ke pale aku.

Mālama au i kēlā ʻōlelo paʻa. Hoʻolilo au iā ia i ʻāpana o ke kakahiaka, e like me ka ipu hau he ʻāpana o ke kakahiaka. Kū au i mua ona ma kona noho kiʻekiʻe, a ʻōlelo aku au i kona inoa piha, a laila ʻōlelo aku au "good morning" ma ka ʻōlelo Pelekania, a laila honi au i kona poʻo, a laila loaʻa iā ia kāna maiʻa. ʻEiwa kekona ka holo ʻana o ia hana a pau.

ʻAʻole ʻo ia i ʻike i kēia manawa i ka mea e loaʻa nei iā ia. Manaʻo ʻo ia, he mea wale nō kona makuahine e ʻōlelo ana i ke kani lōʻihi i mua o ka ʻai kakahiaka. He pololei ʻo ia. He hewa nō hoʻi. He palapala ʻāina liʻiliʻi ke kani lōʻihi. Hāʻawi ʻo ia iā ia, i kēlā me kēia kakahiaka, i ka ʻike ma hea i kanu ʻia ai kona kupuna kāne. Ka wahi a ka makani i ka lā i hānau ai ʻo ia. ʻO ka ʻanakē hea i koho i ka mahele ʻelua. ʻO ka kupuna hea i noho me aʻu ma ka lānai a hāʻawi mai iaʻu i ka mahele ʻekolu.

I kona ʻumikūmālua, a hoʻāʻo kekahi e hoʻopōkole i kona inoa i mea e komo ai i ka helu inoa, e loaʻa iā ia kekahi mea ʻaʻole iaʻu. Ua lohe ʻo ia i ka ʻano lōʻihi, i kēlā me kēia kakahiaka o kona ola, ma ka leo o kona makuahine. E ʻike ʻo ia i ka helehelena, e like me ka ʻike ʻana ʻoe i ke ala āu i hele ai mai kou hiki ʻana ke hele. ʻO ka mea a kahi hou e hoʻāʻo ai e hana, e noho ana ka ʻano lōʻihi i loko o kona iwi.

ʻO ia kaʻu e kūkulu ai, i kēlā me kēia kakahiaka, i ʻeiwa kekona. Ke kūkulu nei au i ke keiki ʻaʻole pono e koho ma waena o ka noho mai kahi a me ka noho ʻo ia iho.