An open letter to my LʻArts,
I took a photo at the conference I was at this weekend just so you know which time and place I'm talking about. You folks were invited but no one could make it. That's not what I am writing about, but it's to give context. My mom, the original L'Art saw this on FB and said Leahi looked like a turtle popping its head out of the water. After 3 days and sitting through 33 papers/presentations, I think this is an apt metaphor for what I wanted to write about.
It's going to get convoluted because "plenty are the doubts that cloud my mind. . .merciless, merciless time is wasted on the young. . ." is blasting in my ears on loop as I'm writing this (Fly My Pretties - Mud and Stardust by A Girl Named Mo, String Theory)
The honu (turtle) metaphor - this was a new conference for me but especially when I don't have to pay, I like to take advantage of professional development that at first does not seem to fit in my area. I'll even present knowing that I may be changing my presentation all the way to the end in order to fit the culture of this new conference, or like this one, to be so different that it is a new experience for others (shock and awe/shock). I have learned over the years that the ability to connect seemingly unconnected scholarship to my own praxis is a gift that I need to continue to hone. I have gotten great ideas this way that have become part of my "Kauhale." Thus, like the turtle, I am merrily going along my own paths, but I popped my head out to be nīele and see what was going on around me through a different view and perspective. Nīele (overly curious as to be rude) is a trait that was not valued by my grandmother, and it is how she would define the word, but I think sometimes if you are not nīele, you become more easily complacent. Therefore, as we get very close to the end, I wish you a healthy balance of "nīele-ness."Never let the minutiae overwhelm and drown your ability to push your head up and look around once in a while.
The honu as kiaʻi (guardian, caretaker, to overlook, as a bluff). This morning's first session on Oceanic literature had someone talking about rhetoric through Kanaka maoli scholars like Kaʻopua-Goodyear, Trask, McDougall). This was not a master's student but an actual professor who teaches courses at a university. What threw me off was her use of the continual use of the words Kānaka Maʻoli to represent native Hawaiian scholars. I wanted so badly to raise my hand and stop her but that is not how this process works so I had to listen to the other three papers until I could ask a question.
Just to be clear, maʻoli is a non word. It could be a word if you wanted to play with Hawaiian language, however, I was pretty sure that it was an error on her part because she was butchering the names of the Hawaiian scholars. Mind you she was talking to a room of 20 other graduate students and professors (including Dr. O and Dr. C), many of them busily taking notes.
I kept racking my brain to figure out how to say this to a "colleague" without seeming like angry Hawaiian channeling (you know) but I just could not let this go, nor did I want to ridicule anyone for making connections with western rhetoric using examples from Hawaiian scholars. I looked around hoping someone else saw this, but sometimes in this profession, I often find myself as the only Hawaiian in the room. Sigh.
I did ask my question, smiled, made my positive presupposition that perhaps she was using the word as a pedagogical stance rather than not checking on words that are unfamiliar to the presenter, and might I hear more about that (smile again, haha). She then told me that she was asked to write on Asian literature for an encyclopedia (is that still a thing?) and then MAYBE my smile slipped a little because somehow Asian literature meant that she got to Hawaiians. She quickly stopped talking about that and moved on to dig a book out of her bag.
She brought out Kanaka ʻOiwi Methodologies:Moʻolelo and Metaphor saying that she got the word from there and that in the book the editor talks about how these Hawaiian scholars were allowed to name or label themselves as Indigenous Hawaiians in any way that they wanted to (Kanaka ʻoiwi, kanaka maoli, etc.) I know this book. I know the intro that she is talking about, so I squashed my impulse to remind her that it is about naming ourselves, not necessarily for others to name us however they want to, but instead I just said yes, I know this book, however, even in there you will not find the spelling maʻoli so again, I was just wondering if you were using it as a metaphor for your argument? (smile)
Long story long, here is my point. If like the honu, I do not come up for "ea" (read the intro to Nation Rising) and look around, how do I know what is going on around me without my knowledge? How do I know what backward movement is happening around me while I am slogging through quicksand to move forward? If I was not there (and this person was not the only issue I had - there was an alumni from UHWO in the masters program who is interested in Filipino American literature but did his paper on a Maori author and a Samoan author because. . .he is Filipino? Not sure) what do these other young scholars bring back to their own universities about us? Why is it that in a session on Oceanic literature, there are no Pacific islanders in the audience? Who will be a kiaʻi, a guardian for our ʻike so that we are allowed to speak for ourselves, not just in the waters that are already open to us, but in all the waters.
Like the honu, travel, learn, be a guardian, be niele, understand the big and little currents so that you can be both advocate for your students, for your fellow teachers, for yourselves as well as your community and in the same way the turtle always nests in the same place, don't forget the way home.
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