The first performance I went to on Sunday was also the one guaranteed to make me weak and misty-eyed with homesickness... the annual Hula show, with halau from all over the Northwest performing.
The last halau opened with their keiki class performing a language-learning song; they did some repeated phrase (sorry, RFKJ, no clue what it was) and the kumu hula would then give them a word, which they would repeat and then say in English, pointing to the body part: "Maka?" "Maka, face." "Opu?" "Opu, stomach." The whole crowd cracked up at their last word: "Okole?" "Okole, tush!"