David J. Peterson .co

pe’a

• (v.) to clothe
• (adj.) clothed
• (n.) top, shirt

Ea. A pe’a ei ie palaki oi’i.
“Yes. I clothe my dog.”

Notes: And why not? Dog clothes are adorable!

I had a really hard time keeping up with the blog this week, as I was filming for a program on CNN called The Next List. Was super, hyper, global, mega busy. Just trying my best to catch up now; not doing too well. (Also very busy with other stuff.)

Today’s word is used for the shirt tops introduced by Zhyler speakers. It was the old word for “clothing”, but pe’aka is the preferred term now. It does show the torso, as it was used in the olden days to refer to any kind of covering (usually worn to keep from getting wet, if one wanted to keep dry for some reason).

pe’a

• (v.) to clothe
• (adj.) clothed
• (n.) top, shirt

Ea. A pe’a ei ie palaki oi’i.
“Yes. I clothe my dog.”

Notes: And why not? Dog clothes are adorable!

I had a really hard time keeping up with the blog this week, as I was filming for a program on CNN called The Next List. Was super, hyper, global, mega busy. Just trying my best to catch up now; not doing too well. (Also very busy with other stuff.)

Today’s word is used for the shirt tops introduced by Zhyler speakers. It was the old word for “clothing”, but pe’aka is the preferred term now. It does show the torso, as it was used in the olden days to refer to any kind of covering (usually worn to keep from getting wet, if one wanted to keep dry for some reason).

puliu

• (v.) to salivate
• (adj.) salivating
• (n.) saliva, spit, spittle

A puliu palaki oi’ia i’i a!
“You’re dog’s slobbering on me!”

Notes: Today’s iku looks like a few others (e.g. huna), but somehow it means “salivate”. I think it’s the little line under the mouth… It kind of looks like that. Doesn’t it?

I remember creating a whole bunch of these “veiled face” iku (where “a whole bunch” could very well mean three). To me, they almost look too realistic for the system (which is odd, since they’re composed of straight lines and nothing more), but I’ve stuck with them. Might as well celebrate them, I guess.

Update: Oh! I just realized that the three lines above the mouth are there because they come from the iku for lelea, which means “water”. Ha! Kind of gross.

meuto

• (adj.) difficult
• (v.) to be difficult
• (n.) difficulty

A meuto mawa i’i oku.
“Swimming isn’t difficult for me.”

Notes: This iku is a bit of a mystery. It’s clearly built off of me, so there’s a phonological component, but the little knot at the end mystifies me. I think the little knot is supposed to be the complication (and since there’s a complication, the iku is “difficult”). As for the little lines, I believe they’re there to fill out the rest of the space (otherwise there’d be blank space on either side of the line down). I guess then it’s best to call this an iku’ume. Works for me.

mi’e

• (n.) yarn

Mi’e?! Li ia i mi’e i’i?!
“Yarn?! You get me yarn?!”

Notes: There was some highly specific reason I came up with a word for “yarn” in Kamakawi. It was something around about something at some time that led me to think, “I need a word for ‘yarn’ in Kamakawi!” I cannot for the life of me remember what that something may have been. I know nothing of the history of yarn, and honestly can’t think of a good reason for it to exist nowadays. Honestly, what do you do with yarn? Make hair for dolls? Use it in “art” projects in elementary school? What the heck is it good for?!

So Kamakawi’s got a word for “yarn”. Hooray. Even has it’s own iku. And it’s not like it’s an ikunoala, or anything: That’s an ikuiku that looks like a spool of yarn. What on Earth was I thinking…

puo

• (expr.) an answer to an unfair yes or no question (whether neither “yes” nor “no” is technically correct)
• (n.) refusal

Puo.
“I refuse to answer the question.”

Notes: That, of course, is Keli’s answer to the question, “Are you still in our recycling box?” And she answers thus because it’s not a recycling box: It is a Kitty Fortress!

She loves that box!

A word like puo is a useful word, because it allows one to answer questions like, “Are you still guilty?” Presuming you’ve never been guilty, an answer of “no” could mean, “No, I’m no longer guilty (but I once was)”, and answer of “yes” would, of course, be an admission of guilt. There’s not much you can do with that question in English. In Kamakawi, you can say puo.

The word was inspired by the Japanese word mu, which is used in the same way. I decided to go big tent with responses to questions in ol’ Kamakawi. Thus we have puo.

kakulu

• (num.) zero
• (pron.) nothing

Ei i kakulu tou!
“I am the mighty zero!”

Notes: Zero is, indeed, the mightiest of numbers—the archnemesis of one. Multiple anything by zero, and all you get is more zero. Compare that to pushover one, who gives you back just what you gave it. Pathetic! In fact, the same thing happens if you divide anything by one. Divide something by zero? Just try it. The very act causes lesser calculators to explode. All hail the mighty zero!

In Kamakawi, you can now use kakulu to mean “nothing”, but it’s a bit slangy. The standard and more general way to say “nothing” is still okuku.

fate

• (n.) hole, gap
• (v.) to put a hole in (something), to punch a hole
• (adj.) full of holes
• (n.) window

Ka lalau nea i amo poiu fate.
“She threw it out the window.”

Notes: Today’s iku featured in a word from a while back. If you go back and take a look at that entry, the etymology of the word should now be clear.

Fate’s glyph is a pretty simple ikunoala built off of te with a little fa on the inside.

fava

• (n.) dust
• (adj.) dusty
• (v.) to be dusty

A fava heka.
“The air is dusty.”

Notes: This is another one os those iku that I’m sure I had a good reason for, but whose raison d’être I can’t, at the moment, remember. It looks like it might have fa in there on top, but I can’t explain the extra lines. As for the “ground” determinative, that’s as it should be (or at least it makes sense to me [it's below the dust, see]). I’m sure the etymology will come to me some day.

fewa

• (n.) the non-white part of the eye (pupil and iris)

Au ele fewa o lea takeke leveya.
“His eyes are blue like the sea.”

Notes: In Kamakawi, you refer to the fewa’s color specifically, not just the eye (which is mata).

Today’s iku is, of course, the iku for i. As it looks like an eye from the side, the “identity” determinative is put beneath it for the word fewa.