Long before the Clinton Administration got on the "Don't Ask" bandwagon, my family and schoolmates practiced our own version of not asking...although, ours had absolutely nothing to do with sexual orientation. I called our way of life, "Da NO ASK Policy."
Luaus were common occurrences on just about every weekend in our Hawaiian Homestead community. My muddah would gather us all up and give us the order that we were going whether we liked it or not. Democracy was a belief and not a practice in our ohana. It was something everybody else in Hawaii and America did, but not us.
On the day of celebration, our family arrived at the luau, made the grand entrance, and then sat down to some ono kalua pig, chicken long rice, squid luau, all da raw stuff and poi. When we were pau eating, Daddy went off to shoot some craps with the rest of the men to help raise money for the House and we sat back in preparation for the hula show.
My muddah, on the other hand, had other ideas. She made all of us kids get up and serve juice and extra helpings of opihi, raw crab, cake, pineapple, etc., to the other guests. Then we had to go around and clean the rubbish off the tables. I kept asking myself, "What's wrong with this picture?" So, like one lolo, I wen asked my muddah, "Ma, aren't we supposed to be guests too? Why we have to do dis, while da other folks all sitting around watching da show?" Her answer was to slap my head and then tell me in a curt way, "Eh, NO ASK those stupid kind questions. Get to work. Bumbye, dis family going appreciate what you did for them." Sure enough, when we had our own family celebrations later on, there were those same folks right in the thick of things helping with the decorations, food, and entertainment. Mama was right.
One of our neighbors moved to another house in the homestead and their old yard started growing weed forests, kiawe tree babies, and scores of koa bushes. Plus, with no one else around, the place instantly became the neighborhood landfill for those who didn't want to drive to Waianae or Maili. Well, at least it was closer than Hakimo Road. As a result, I had the dubious honor of having to clean both my yard and the abandoned yard next door.
On one very early Saturday morning, my muddah got up early, made us breakfast, and slipped quietly away outside under the cover of darkness. Me? I read the tea leaves and immediately figured out that the next thing I probably would hear was my name. Sure enough out of the clear blue came, "BILLY BOY!... bring me da rake and da sickle."
At first, I acted like I was deaf. I tried to convince myself that my muddah must've really been calling my bruddah Kawika? Perhaps, there were some acoustical problems or howling winds outside? I even attempted to disappear by turning myself into the Invisible Man, but like Superman sitting on a mountain of Kryptonite, my powers wen fail me at the critical moment.
So I walked outside begrudgingly (this means with very little Aloha in my heart), found the things my muddah wanted, and TRIED handing them to her. Wen she never make the move to grab'em, I knew I was in big trouble. My muddah was one step ahead of me and had thwarted my plans to make the great escape. She had no intentions of going into the manual labor mode...that was my job. Then she said, "WE gotta go clean the empty lot next door." I asked myself, "WE?? What you mean we? You get one frog in your pocket or what?" But I neva, because I knew that that was one NO ASK kind question to do at the time. Plus, my muddah always told me, "Eh, I no care how beeg you get. You better not test me or I going Wipe You Out!"
While my other friends were at home watching Hercules cartoons on Saturday morning TV, there I was sitting in the hot sun swinging away and building up my own Samson-like power with my muddah in the supervising/management role. By noon, I was totally disgusted. I stopped and asked my muddah, " Ma, how come da Hawaiian Homes no come and do dis? How come we gotta do'em?" She turned, gave me the stink eye and said, "Eh, NO ASK that dumb question. Bumbye, you going see why we have to do dis."
We worked all day Saturday and Sunday... cutting, raking and burning, and hardly put a dent in that eyesore forest that weekend. We eventually cleaned out all the junk and debris a few weeks later. But, by that time, more of my own family and those of nearby houses were involved. It became a total community effort, as we worked tirelessly to make our Nanakuli neighborhood a nicer place to live. As usual, mama was right again.
Besides our home, another place where the "NO ASK" policy was rampant was in school. The classroom logic went like this: If you had to ask the teacher a question that meant you probably did not know the answer. And, if you didn't know the answer that meant you must have been a born again IDIOT...which was just one step up from being the village variety kind.
Therefore, in school, it was extremely important to look like you knew all da answers rather than open your mouth, ask da teacher da question, and in the minds of your peers, remove all doubt as to your IQ. That's why Nanaikapono teachers were challenged a lot. We students usually made like we knew all the answers or at least more than the teachers did. We felt so smart and often times questioned our need to be in school? There were more interesting things in life such as surfing, swimming, or fishing. Later on, I would learn that we were wrong!
Now while it was not okay to ask the teacher questions, friends were another story. During one session, while the teacher was out front talking about isosceles triangles or something, I was completely in Mushroomville, without a clue or even boat to row up the creek. I quickly turned to my friends Harry, Raynard, and Fredrick and asked them, "Eh, what she talking about?"
To a man each one replied, "NO ASK me cuz I dunno?"
I found myself in a dilemma. I couldn't ask the teacher anything because make "A." And, I couldn't turn to my friends because they were in the same situation with me ... lost in space without an escape pod.
When I went home that night, I told my muddah about what happened in school. She looked down very tenderly at me and replied, "Son, in school you no scared'em. No worry about what da other kids stay thinking. You ask all da questions you like cuz das da only way you going learn."
I took her words to heart and never looked back. I learned that there was a right and a wrong time to NO ASK. I never stopped asking dumb questions throughout the remainder of my years in school or afterwards.
Once more, mama was right... I love you Mom.
This story is dedicated to my mother, Mrs. Virginia "Lehua" Kapaku, who still works at the Nanaikapono Elementary School's Hawaiian Culture museum as a kupuna. Over the years, she's taught her own ohana and scores of other Nanakuli kids life's little lessons. Nowadays, she's teaching their kids.
About Author
William L. Kapaku Jr. was born and raised on Homestead land in Nanakuli, Oahu. He graduated from Kamehameha High School in 1973. He is a US Army Major (retired) living in Korea. He now works as a Department of the Army Civilian serving as an Installation Manager of a 3000 man installation in Uijongbu City, Korea.
