Pidgin making an unlikely comeback

Caitlyn Yoshina
May 7, 2010
Filed under Features

‘Iolani junior Jamie Tamayose strode out of her AP United States history class.  A tank top, cardigan, and skinny jeans dressed her petite frame.  Breathing a sigh of relief, she turned to her friend and said, “Ho brah, da test stay hahd, ah?”

More and more of ‘Iolani School’s upperclassmen casually speak pidgin in the hallways as well as classrooms.  This dialect, common to Hawaii, originated as a way for the early immigrant groups to communicate with each other.

For years, pidgin has been thought of as broken English, and therefore frowned upon.

When Latin teacher Christopher Strawn began his ‘Iolani career 29 years ago, he was skeptical of pidgin’s place in the classroom.  “I was kind of surprised to find students trying to speak pidgin in class, and so I would speak pidgin back to them.  I’d basically say, ‘No make li’dat!’” Strawn said.  His skepticism is based in tradition.  “When I was a kid, pidgin was for the playground and standard [English] was for the classroom.”

However, with the help of pidgin advocates, the dialect is quickly becoming more acceptable, and ‘Iolani students certainly seem to be embracing this native language.  Lee Cataluna, award-winning author of local plays including “Da Mayah” and “Folks You Meet in Longs,” featuring pidgin, thinks that this resurgence among youngsters is a result of the media.

“I certainly hear it on island music and Hawaiian radio stations,” Cataluna said.  She also suggested that because pidgin is simple and to the point, teens may be using it to text or tweet.  “It’s a shortened form [of English], and there are ways to say things in pidgin that you can’t say in other languages.”

After more thought about where teens might hear pidgin, she listed local celebrities as another possible source.  Cracking a smile, Cataluna said, “Maybe it’s Lt. Gov. Aiona!”

‘Iolani students cite other sources.  Junior Tyler Cundiff said, “Some of my actual moke friends were trying to teach me, so I guess I copied them.”  A “moke” is a large, local male.  Cundiff said, ‘I act moke as a joke, not to be cool, because there’s no way I’d ever get away with that serious kine and whatnot, li’dat.  It’s funny to see a tall, awkward white kid trying to be all moke, li’dat.  I like to make people laugh.”

Classmate Jaren Nakamura also speaks pidgin for laughs.  “Occasionally I speak Hawaiian or pidgin for jokes, like ‘shoots’ or ‘chee hoo’ or ‘li’dat,’ but not seriously.”  However, Nakamura distinguishes himself from those who imitate a stereotype.  “People think just because they live in Hawaii they can pretend to be Hawaiian or something.  And some kids think Hawaiians are just cooler, or they think being Japanese or whatever is too boring,” Nakamura said.

Junior Erin Nishimura gave another cause of pidgin’s reappearance at Iolani: “I think the stress of junior year is getting to us, and we’re acting out.”  Nishimura suggested that some even abuse pidgin.  “In our history class, they talk to the teacher like that.  Even if they don’t talk to her, they have their side conversations, and they do it to irritate her.  It’s a form of rebellion that’s acceptable, and they can’t be punished for it.”

With students at the prestigious ‘Iolani School speaking pidgin, the native dialect has come a long way from the days when it was forbidden to speak it at school.  Playwright Lee Cataluna remembers those days well.  In an email interview, Cataluna said, “If I think back, I never spoke pidgin in class.”

Nowadays, Cataluna uses pidgin for the same reason students Cundiff and Nakamura: “I can relate to using it for comic effect.  Non-standard language is like that, though.  People can make a wise crack in slang in a way that is more potent than standard English.”

As for Cataluna’s forecast for ‘Iolani’s pidgin craze, she believes that it won’t last long: “Today’s high school students are tomorrow’s boring grown-ups, and the new crop of hip teens will have their own trends.”