Uploaded February 2023 | Updated September 2026, 3 hours ago
Our ʻāina and ʻōlelo are inseparably connected, both raising us, nurturing us and even defining us. We cannot be Kānaka without connections to both of them.
We have seen the damage caused by attempts to separate us from ʻāina and ʻōlelo and have dealt with those effects for generations. Yet here we are today. Standing before you on our ʻāina. Standing before you speaking our ʻōlelo. Doing our best to keep it flourishing.
It is not by chance that our word for “word” is “hua,” which also means “seed” or “fruit,” because every hua we speak, no matter how big or small, plants a seed in our ʻāina and in ourselves. Every time we say the names of our ʻāina, sing our stories, or oli with humility for ʻike and permission before we enter a space, we grow our pilina, our connections to ʻāina.
And every time we interact with ʻāina, it draws us closer to our ʻōlelo too. We come to understand how its character, history, and energy are embodied in its name. We come to learn who its rain is and remember how that rain dances on our skin. We look up and see clouds with golden edges across a crimson sunset sky, knowing there must be words for those aspects of Papahulilani, motivating and moving us to learn what they are called.
When the ‘āina lives, our ‘ōlelo lives too. They thrive together. When we fight for our ʻāina, we fight for our ʻōlelo. When we speak our ʻōlelo, we speak our ʻāina. It is as simple and complex as that. Ola ka ʻāina, ola ka ʻōlelo.
#aupunipalapala #olelohawaii #protectmaunakea #kakoohaleakala #olaikawai #kahoolawe #polihale #alohaaina #hawaii
Our ʻāina and ʻōlelo are inseparably connected, both raising us, nurturing us and even defining us. We cannot be Kānaka without connections to both of them.
We have seen the damage caused by attempts to separate us from ʻāina and ʻōlelo and have dealt with those effects for generations. Yet here we are today. Standing before you on our ʻāina. Standing before you speaking our ʻōlelo. Doing our best to keep it flourishing.
It is not by chance that our word for “word” is “hua,” which also means “seed” or “fruit,” because every hua we speak, no matter how big or small, plants a seed in our ʻāina and in ourselves. Every time we say the names of our ʻāina, sing our stories, or oli with humility for ʻike and permission before we enter a space, we grow our pilina, our connections to ʻāina.
And every time we interact with ʻāina, it draws us closer to our ʻōlelo too. We come to understand how its character, history, and energy are embodied in its name. We come to learn who its rain is and remember how that rain dances on our skin. We look up and see clouds with golden edges across a crimson sunset sky, knowing there must be words for those aspects of Papahulilani, motivating and moving us to learn what they are called.
When the ‘āina lives, our ‘ōlelo lives too. They thrive together. When we fight for our ʻāina, we fight for our ʻōlelo. When we speak our ʻōlelo, we speak our ʻāina. It is as simple and complex as that. Ola ka ʻāina, ola ka ʻōlelo.
#aupunipalapala #olelohawaii #protectmaunakea #kakoohaleakala #olaikawai #kahoolawe #polihale #alohaaina #hawaii
