Hands beside hands. Lima me ka lima.

I have woven lauhala for sixty-one years. My tūtū began teaching me when I was eight, on the same lānai where I now sit with my mokopuna. The pandanus drying on the rail, the strands curling at the edges, the smell of the leaves as you split them — all of this was the room I grew up in.

My grandmother did not teach me by telling me. She taught me by sitting beside me. Hands beside hands. She would weave, and I would weave, and when my strand broke I would cry, because I thought I had ruined a thing. She would not say it was alright. She would say: It gives you another chance to begin.

I did not understand her until I was much older. The thing she was teaching me was not the lauhala. The thing she was teaching me was that there is no project so far gone that you cannot kneel down and start it again. She used the lauhala to say it because the lauhala does not lie. The lauhala will let you start over as many times as you need.

This is the way I teach my mokopuna now. Three of them come up the steps every Tuesday, drop their backpacks at the door, and come to the lānai with their hands already smelling of after-school. I do not give them a lesson. I do not say "first, do this." I sit. I weave. They sit. They watch.

After a while, one of them will pick up a strand. Then another. They are competing without admitting it. The youngest one — Kahiwa, eleven years old — broke her strand last week and her shoulders went tight. She looked at me sideways, the way children do when they expect to be corrected.

I did not look up from my own weaving. I said only: "It gives you another chance to begin." The phrase came out of my mouth in my grandmother's voice. I did not realise, until that moment, that I had been carrying her voice for sixty-one years, waiting for the right child.

Kahiwa kept the broken strand in her hand for a long time. Then she set it down and picked up another. She did not know yet that she had just received a thing that will make her a teacher of small people one day. She thought she was learning to weave.

There is a moʻolelo we tell about the hala tree. Before you cut a leaf, you must speak to the tree. You must thank it. You must take only what you need, and you must take it in a way that lets the tree know you are coming back. This is not a superstition. This is a relationship. The tree is your partner in everything you make. You are not extracting; you are agreeing.

Kahiwa is starting to learn this. Sometimes I see her, before she takes a leaf, pause for half a second. She does not know yet that she is praying. She thinks she is just remembering what her tūtū said.

That is fine. The remembering is the praying. They are the same thing.

Last Tuesday she finished her first complete mat. It is uneven. It is uneven the way mine was at her age. She held it out to me with both hands and could not say anything. I took it. I told her it was beautiful. I told her I would put it on my own table. I do not say things I do not mean.

It is on my own table now. It will be there when I am gone. Whichever of my mokopuna sits at this table after me will see it and will know: somebody before me thought my work was beautiful when I could not yet say it was. That is enough. That is the whole of it. Hands beside hands.

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.

He kanaonokūmākahi makahiki koʻu ulana ʻana i ka lauhala. Ua hoʻomaka koʻu tūtū i ke aʻo mai iaʻu i koʻu ʻewalu makahiki, ma kēia lānai hoʻokahi e noho nei au me kaʻu mau moʻopuna. Ka puhala e maloʻo ana ma ka pā, nā lau e wili ana ma nā kihi, ke ʻala o nā lau i kou wāwahi ʻana — ʻo ia a pau ka lumi i ulu ai au.

ʻAʻole i aʻo mai koʻu kupunawahine iaʻu ma ka ʻōlelo. Ua aʻo mai ʻo ia iaʻu ma ka noho ʻana ma koʻu ʻaoʻao. Lima me ka lima. Ulana ʻo ia, ulana au, a i ka haki ʻana o kaʻu lau, e uē ana au, no ka mea, ua manaʻo au ua hōʻino au i kekahi mea. ʻAʻole ʻo ia e ʻōlelo mai ua maikaʻi nō. ʻO kāna i ʻōlelo mai ai: Ke hāʻawi nei ia iā ʻoe i ka manawa hou e hoʻomaka ai.

ʻAʻole au i hoʻomaopopo iā ia a hiki i koʻu wā ʻoʻo. ʻAʻole ka lauhala ka mea āna i aʻo mai ai iaʻu. ʻO ka mea āna i aʻo mai ai, ʻaʻohe hana i hala loa, ʻaʻole hiki ke kukuli iho a hoʻomaka hou. Ua hoʻohana ʻo ia i ka lauhala no ka mea, ʻaʻole wahaheʻe ka lauhala. E ʻae ka lauhala iā ʻoe e hoʻomaka hou e like me kou makemake.

ʻO kēia ke ʻano aʻu e aʻo aku ai i kaʻu mau moʻopuna i kēia manawa. ʻEkolu o lākou e piʻi mai ana i nā ʻanuʻu i kēlā me kēia Pōʻalua, hoʻokuʻu i kā lākou ʻeke kula ma ka puka, a hele mai i ka lānai me ko lākou mau lima me ke ʻala o ma hope o ke kula. ʻAʻole au e hāʻawi i ka haʻawina. ʻAʻole au e ʻōlelo, "ʻo ka mea mua, hana i kēia." Noho au. Ulana au. Noho lākou. Nānā lākou.

Ma hope o ka manawa, e lawe kekahi o lākou i ka lau. A laila, hou aku. E hoʻokūkū ana lākou me ka ʻole o ka ʻae. ʻO ka muli loa — ʻo Kahiwa, ʻumikūmākahi makahiki — ua haki kāna lau i ka pule i hala, a paʻa kona poʻohiwi. Ua nānā ʻo ia iaʻu ma ka ʻaoʻao, ke ʻano e nānā ai nā keiki ke kali ana lākou i ka hoʻopololei.

ʻAʻole au i nānā mai kaʻu ulana ponoʻī. ʻO kaʻu i ʻōlelo wale aʻe: "Ke hāʻawi nei ia iā ʻoe i ka manawa hou e hoʻomaka ai." Ua puka ka huaʻōlelo mai koʻu waha, ma ka leo o koʻu kupunawahine. ʻAʻole au i hoʻomaopopo, a hiki i kēlā manawa, ua hāpai au i kona leo no kanaonokūmākahi makahiki, e kali ana i ke keiki kūpono.

Ua paʻa ʻo Kahiwa i ka lau haki ma kona lima no ka manawa lōʻihi. A laila, hoʻokuʻu ʻo ia, a lawe i kekahi lau. ʻAʻole ʻo ia i ʻike i kēlā manawa, ua loaʻa iā ia kekahi mea e lilo ai ʻo ia i kumu o nā keiki ʻuʻuku i kekahi lā. Ua manaʻo ʻo ia, e aʻo ana ʻo ia i ka ulana wale.

Aia kekahi moʻolelo a mākou e haʻi ai no ka lāʻau hala. Ma mua o kou ʻoki ʻana i ka lau, e ʻōlelo aku ʻoe i ka lāʻau. E mahalo aku ʻoe iā ia. E lawe ʻoe i ka mea wale a ʻoe e pono ai, a e lawe ʻoe ma ke ʻano e ʻike ai ka lāʻau e hoʻi mai ana ʻoe. ʻAʻole kēia he hoʻomaloka. He pilina kēia. ʻO ka lāʻau kou hoa ma nā mea a pau āu e hana ai. ʻAʻole ʻoe e lawe wale; ke ʻae ʻana ʻoe.

Ke aʻo nei ʻo Kahiwa i kēia. I kekahi manawa, ʻike au iā ia, ma mua o kona lawe ʻana i ka lau, hoʻōki no ka hapalua kekona. ʻAʻole ʻo ia i ʻike, e pule ana ʻo ia. Manaʻo ʻo ia, ke hoʻomanaʻo wale nei ʻo ia i ka mea a kona tūtū i ʻōlelo ai.

He maikaʻi ia. ʻO ka hoʻomanaʻo, ʻo ia ka pule. Hoʻokahi nō lākou.

I ka Pōʻalua i hala, ua hoʻopau ʻo ia i kāna mea ulana mua. ʻAʻole he like nā lihi. ʻAʻole he like e like me koʻu ulana ma kona makahiki. Ua hāʻawi mai ʻo ia ia mea iaʻu me kona mau lima ʻelua a ʻaʻole hiki iā ia ke ʻōlelo mai. Ua lawe au. Ua haʻi aku au, he nani. Ua haʻi aku au, e kau au i ia mea ma kuʻu pākaukau ponoʻī. ʻAʻole au e ʻōlelo i nā mea aʻu ʻaʻole i manaʻo ai.

Aia ia ma kuʻu pākaukau ponoʻī i kēia manawa. E noho ana ia ma laila ke hala au. ʻO kekahi o kaʻu mau moʻopuna e noho ana ma kēia pākaukau ma hope oʻu, e ʻike ʻo ia, a e ʻike: ua manaʻo kekahi ma mua oʻu, he nani kaʻu hana, i ka manawa ʻaʻole hiki iaʻu ke ʻōlelo. Ua lawa kēia. ʻO ia ka mea a pau. Lima me ka lima.