Not far from the Wai‘anae Mountains on O‘ahu lived a boy who could not talk. Thoughts rose in him as water rises in a spring, but he could not speak his thoughts. He could not tell his family when he was sad. He could not share with them his jokes and fun.
Often his heart was heavy, and his family saw his sadness. “It is because he cannot talk,” they said. His grandfather added, “He must make music. That will tell his thoughts.” So the grandfather sent a servant into the forest to make a nose flute, and taught his grandson how to play it. The boy played so well that men stopped their work to listen. Yet the nose flute did not satisfy him, for it could not tell his thoughts.
“He must have the coconut whistle,” said his grandmother.
“That sacred whistle?” his mother asked. “But that is guarded by two watchers. No one can get that whistle.”
The grandmother smiled wisely and shook her little blossoming tree until two blossoms flew from it and floated off, carried by the wind. On and on they flew till they were near the place where the coconut whistle was guarded. The watchers saw those blossoms floating like gay butterflies, and went to catch them, not thinking of the whistle they should guard.
When they were gone a small bird came, seized the whistle, and flew back to the boy. “This will speak your thoughts,” the wise bird told him. “Your grandmother sent me for it.”
The boy put the whistle to his lips and blew. Oh, the music that he made! All his thoughts came bubbling up, and the whistle spoke them. Now he could share both joy and sorrow with his family. He was no longer sad.
Translated by Mary Kawena Pūku‘i from a Hawaiian newspaper