About Us

We are an ʻohana three generations involved in the ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi revitalization movement. We are also a wahine ʻŌiwi Hawaiʻi-owned business in Hawaiʻi nei. 

When my mom wanted to take ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi classes, her counselor discouraged her, saying there was no future in ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi. She enrolled in those classes anyway and became a kumu ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi who has published books and articles about ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi topics and resources.

I, like my mom, had to learn ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi at school, when just two generations above my mom, we had native speakers in the ʻohana. I remember reaching a level of conversational fluency and being able to talk with my mom at home in ʻōlelo Kanaka. My half-Hawaiian grandfather would hear us and joke, "What's that foreign language you speaking?" But in many ways, he was right.

At that time in the '90s, speaking ʻōlelo outside of the classroom would garner curious looks. Many could easily guess it was Hawaiian we were speaking, they just weren't used to hearing it. It's so odd to think that Hawaiian language could seem foreign in Hawaiʻi, and yet no one thinks twice when they hear Chinese or Filipino in these islands.

I often wish I'd be better at following through on what I say I'll do, but one commitment I've never faltered on—and probably one of the hardest to fulfill—is speaking ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi wale nō to my keiki. 

The idea for this promise came after watching an ʻAha Pūnana Leo film about how the language of our ancestors, the indigenous language of our home, was on the brink of extinction, and what they were doing to bring it back. I remember tearing up in the seat of my secondary school classroom, so moved by what was at stake and all the efforts and great strides being made by a small group of folks who worked tirelessly to save our language, and in that way, to save our people and our Hawaiʻi.

When the film ended, while I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life, I did know that whatever it was, I would continue learning ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi so, if nothing else, I could speak to my keiki in Hawaiian. At the very least, my ʻohana would be that many more speakers of ʻōlelo, that many more perpetuating the language and culture of our kūpuna.

My mom continues to teach ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi, I am an ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi editor, and my keiki have only heard ʻōlelo from me since they were in my pūʻao.

The products we create are intended to help spread and normalize our ʻōlelo, our heritage, and our ʻŌiwi perspectives. They honor our aliʻi, our meʻe, and our kūpuna. They are meant to support anyone who is on a journey of ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi acquisition and perpetuation.

We hope our products will inspire and empower you to ʻōlelo, as little or as much as you are comfortable with, and to share your inspiration and empowerment with others so they will ʻōlelo more too.

ʻŌlelo is not about being grammatically correct or having an extensive vocabulary. At its core, it is about communicating, just like any other language. But unlike any other language, ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi was born in and of these islands. It was shaped and nourished and grown by this ʻāina. Its words and nuances are specific to the lani, the ʻāina, and the kai of this place. And at the same time, ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi is part of what makes this place Hawaiʻi. When we speak ʻōlelo, we are speaking the language of our ʻāina. We are strengthening our pilina to this special place, which is the foundation for all other pilina. 

There is so much riding on our ʻōlelo. It helps carry our identity, our spirit, our moʻolelo, our traditions, and our ways of knowing and being and thinking. It is the voice of thousands of kūpuna whose chants we still chant, whose palapala we still read, whose interviews we still listen to, and whose wisdom we still live by. They lifted their voices and kept their ʻōlelo for us, and for the thousands of generations to come. It is now ours to embrace, breathe life and our essence into, and carry forward.

Our work at Māhuahua Designs is but a small contribution to the cause, yet it is offered with great hope, humility, and aloha and dedicated to our kumu, our kūpuna, and the generations to come. A hiki i ka hanauna pau ʻole.