Vive la ʻohana

I don't speak French, and I don't speak ʻŌlelo Hawaiʻi, but I like to combine them.


In theory, it means "Long live ʻohana."  What is ʻohana?  Let me tell you a story.


Jenna was new on our hall.  She just popped up after Christmas break, and I thought Jenna was cool (and I guess she still is).  One snowy day, Natalie, my friend who lives in the room beside me, decided to make potatoes out of a box, and Jenna went with her on this potato adventure.  They were downstairs in the kitchen when I ran into them.


We all decided to wait for the potatoes to bake, and while we waited, we watched Extreme Makeover Home Edition.  The show happened to be at a house in Hawaii.  I think it was a house that had been ravaged by some horrible storm or natural disaster.  Like every episode, the entire community helped in repairing and rebuilding this torn home.  


It was a struggle - a struggle for the family who had seen their home become just another ruin of a storm, and it was a struggle for those who worked tirelessly to rebuild the house.  Ty Pennington, the host of Extreme Makeover, made a statement about this - he said that the people who struggled together, the community, the family - they were ʻohana, as it is said in Hawaii.  


I turned to Jenna.  "We're ʻohana."


She looked at me funny.  "What?"  


"We're ʻohana."


"Okay, Carrie."  It seemed like a bizarre statement, but there was a mutual understanding.  


We live and we go through struggles together, so we, the girls who live on and around our hall, are ʻohana.  It's unconditional.  When we can't sleep, we talk it over.  When we can't study anymore, we press on.  When we're stressed, we split a roll of cookie dough.  When we cry, scream, laugh, or stumble, we do it together, because we're family.


Like Lilo and Stitch once said:  "ʻOhana means family, and family means nobody gets left behind."


Who's your ʻohana?