Hawaii - James Michener [284]
It was said that when the first Chinese landed in Hawaii the islanders asked them, "What shall we call you?" And the most sedate of the travelers replied, "It would be proper if you called me Pak Yeh." which meant Older Uncle. And from that time on, the Chinese were called Pakes.
As it came Kee Mun Ki's turn to face the interpreters he trembled, for he knew that soon he must make a fundamental decision concerning the Hakka girl Char Nyuk Tsin, but any perplexity over her was driven from his mind when an official, a large Hawaiian with a few phrases of Chinese, scowled at the man in front of Kee Mun Ki and growled, "What's your name?"
The Punti stood silent in fear, so the huge Hawaiian shouted, "What's your name?" Still the man remained awe-struck, so that a Chinese scholar employed for the purpose hurried up and said in good Punti, "Tell the man your name."
"Leong Ah Kam," the Chinese replied.
"Which of the names is the important one," the Hawaiian asked.
"Leong," the interpreter explained.
"How'd you spell it?" the Hawaiian asked.
"Well," the scholarly interpreter hedged, "in English this name Leong is rather difficult. It could be made into Lung or Long or Ling or Liong or Lyong."
The big official studied the problem for a moment. "Lung sounds silly," he growled, not because he was angry at the Chinese standing before him but because he was bedeviled by this constant problem of finding names for immigrant Chinese. Suddenly his face brightened into a generous smile and he pointed a big, pudgy finger at the laborer Leong Ah Kam, and fastening upon the last two names, he announced: "From now on your real name is Akama. And don't you forget it."
Carefully he printed the name on a white card: "This man's official name is L. Akama." It was in this manner that the Chinese got their Hawaiian names. Ah Kong became Akona. Ah Ki became Akina, and sometimes the simple Ah Pake, The Honorable Chinese, became Apaka. As in the past, Hawaii still modified all things that came to it, and the Punti laborer Leong Ah Kam became L. Akama.
It was now Kee Mun Ki's turn, and when the interpreter asked him his name he said firmly, "Kee Mun Ki, and I want to be known as Kee."
"What did he say?" the Hawaiian asked.
"He said that he wished to be known as Kee."
"How would you spell it?" the Hawaiian asked. When he heard the reply he tested the name several times, found it satisfactory, and printed: "This man's official name is Kee Mun Ki," and the tricky little gambler felt that he had won a victory. But before he had time to savor it, he was faced by two new problems, for outside the fence of the immigration area a thin, sharp-eyed Chinese was calling in whispers to him, and the young gambler knew by instinct that this was a man he did not wish to see; but the calling continued and Mun Ki had to move toward the fence.
"Are you the one who brought the girl?" the wiry man asked in Punti.
"Yes," Mun Ki replied honestly.
"From the Brothel of Spring Nights?"
"Yes."
"Thank the gods!" the nervous visitor sighed. "I need a new girl badly. It looks like she's a Hakka."
"She is," Mun Ki replied.
"Damn!" the visitor snapped. "Did he knock off the price? Her being a Hakka?''
"There is no price," Mun Ki said carefully.
The wiry man's face grew stern. "What?" he asked.
"I am going to keep her for myself," Mun Ki replied.
"You thief! You robber!" The man outside began to make such a protest that officials came up on the inside of the fence and shouted at him. "That is my girl!" the infuriated Punti shrieked, forgetful of the fact that he was incriminating himself. One of the Punti interpreters called a Hakka clerk and together they addressed Char Nyuk Tsin.
"The man outside says that you were sold to him," the Hakka