Belonging to Heaven, page 30
“Great love over fear,” Jonathan said softly, and Father Damien nodded.
The two men walked past houses and hales, and Jonathan told the priest what he knew about the inhabitants and their condition. As he had only arrived at the settlement two weeks prior, his knowledge was limited, but it was comforting to share what he did know with another kokua—another kokua who was not just there for one patient, but for all.
Note
Belgian priest Father Damien de Veuster arrived at Kalawao May 10, 1873. He was thirty-three years old at the time and would spend the next sixteen years of his life tenderly serving the patients of the leper colony. He died of leprosy April 15, 1889, and was buried under the shade of the hala tree under which he first slept upon arriving at Kalawao. On October 11, 2009, Damien was canonized a saint in Rome by Pope Benedict XVI.
Chapter 45
Salt Lake City, Utah
June 20, 1873
Elizabeth Hoagland Cannon found her husband weeping in the parlor. It was long past time for him to be at work, and the expression of sentiment was so uncharacteristic that it made her pause in her busy daily schedule, close the parlor door, and sit next to him on the sofa.
“George, what is it?”
He laid his hand over his wife’s. “I know, I should be at work,” he said slowly.
“Do not trouble about that,” the practical Elizabeth responded. “Cut your sorrows in half by sharing them with me.”
George sat back, wiped the tears off his face with his handkerchief, and blew his nose. “My sweet Elizabeth.”
“I believe you are overwrought, George. Here you have just returned from being a delegate in Congress, where you had to suffer through all the anti-polygamy fury, and now you’re called as a counselor to President Young.” She shook her head. “Not to mention editing a newspaper, taking care of the publishing business . . .”
“And being burdened with my many wives and children,” George added with reserved good humor.
Elizabeth sat for a few moments with her mouth opened, and then she grinned. “Here I should be consoling you in your sorrow, and I’m parading your burdens before you.” She lay back in his arms. “I’m not a very good wife.”
“You are the best of wives.”
“It’s just that I’m worried about you.”
George gave her a little squeeze. “I know, my dear. But you need not worry about my busy life. I do not consider any of the things I am called to do a burden. Just the opposite is true. I feel very blessed. All my callings are a great joy to me.”
“And they keep you out of trouble.”
George chuckled. “Well, yes, that too. I don’t care much for idle hands, do I?”
“No,” Elizabeth said, sitting up. She turned to look at him squarely. “So, if it is not your hectic life, Elder Cannon, then what has you weeping this morning?”
“The letter I received yesterday from Brother Jonathan.”
Elizabeth nodded and took her husband’s hand. “Ah, that would do it. Was the news difficult?”
“I have not brought myself to read it.”
“Then how do you . . .”
“Just seeing the envelope brought back all the heartache we received from his first communication from the leper colony.” George stood and went to the fireplace, reaching onto the mantle and retrieving the letter. “From the agonizing day when Joseph and Hyrum were killed, through all the mob violence against the Saints, to all the bodies buried on the plains, I have learned not to question the Lord.” Tears came into his voice. “I have learned to surrender to the Lord’s will.” He shook his head. “But the suffering of the Napelas at Kalawao has made me want to raise my fist to the air, Elizabeth.” His voice broke. “It has made me want to shout in protest!”
Elizabeth was silent, respecting her husband’s anguish. Slowly he moved back to sit beside her, and she took the letter from his hand. “Should we read his words? Perhaps your friend will school us about faith.”
“That would not surprise me.”
Elizabeth opened the flap and removed the letter, handing it to her husband. George unfolded the letter and focused on the beautiful Hawaiian words. His mind began to translate the meaning as he began to read.
To my dear Brother George,
Aloha!
Kitty and I send love to your family.
For the three weeks we have been at Kalawao, Kitty has not been well. The sadness of leaving loved ones, the rough crossing, and the struggle to get to the beach was very hard for the patients, and I think that some will not recover. Kitty is doing a little better every day and I believe that someday soon she will be able to walk the path to the ocean and plant a little garden. The soil is poor and one has to remove stones and hallow out a place to put some rich soil from the valley in order for the plants to grow. We can only give them a little water as it must be carried from quite a distance, and it is precious. I have been learning a few tricks from a Catholic priest who has come here to help. He is originally from Belgium and he is only thirty-three years old. That is very young. Of course you were younger, Brother George, when you first came to our islands.
George looked up from the paper. “I was young. I don’t know how I had the courage to do many of the things I did.”
Elizabeth smiled at him. “Look at your own sons, George. When you’re young, you don’t realize you need to be cautious.”
George chuckled. “That’s true, isn’t it?”
“But, more important, you were able to do the things you did because you trusted the Lord.” She gave him a tender look. “I remember the letters you sent me—so filled with faith and conviction.”
“Yes, and I also had the help of a remarkable Hawaiian Saint.” He looked back to the letter. “I am glad he has a helper now.”
“So am I.”
George continued reading.
The priest’s name is Father Damien de Veuster, but the patients call him Kamiano or Father Kamiano. He does not have the sickness, and yet he works closely with the patients so that they will trust him. He is on a rotation schedule with three other priests, and each will be here a few months and then return to their other fields of labor. Their superiors in Honolulu have given them strict rules to follow regarding contact with the patients, and that is wise if they are to go back out into the world. I am glad he is here for many reasons. He is someone to talk to, and he is a hard worker. Only days after he arrived there was a newspaper article about him in Honolulu, where the writer said that the priest was going to stay at Kalawao and sacrifice himself for the lepers. We have heard that it caused much talk, and people began donating hundreds of dollars for the cause of Father Damien. He was uncomfortable with the notoriety, but I am glad, Brother George. The money will be a great help to the colony.
I guess the government didn’t want to be outdone, because the last two steamers have brought more supplies, food, and lumber. This is good, because between ten and fourteen new patients arrive every week. Many die, but many more come to take their place. We have had several patients come who are carpenters. Those who still have use of their hands will help Father Damien and me build coffins and houses. We will also make improvements to the hospital. We now have about fourteen members of the Church in the settlement, and we hold our Sunday meetings in a grove of trees, or in a member’s house if it is rainy. I would like to build a church building near to the Protestant church, but I think we will have to wait.
I must tell you of something wonderful that came on the last steamer. A horse! Yes, the board of health has finally sent the horse they promised! Now I can ride to all the parts of the land to check on the patients and fulfill my job as luna. So, things are getting better, Brother George, and I am trying to serve wherever the Lord calls me.
Ships of every kind come once or twice a week bringing patients, goods, letters, and sometimes food. There is never enough food. We receive many letters from our dear Panana. They come on the boats that visit Kalawao and Kalaupapa, and sometimes they come overland from Kaunakakai, which is topside on the southern coast of Moloka‘i. Panana writes that she and Kamuela are doing well, and little Eva is a healthy girl. They seem to have visitors all the time. She tells us that she writes to you, so you probably know all the news. Perhaps the board of health will let me leave the settlement for a trip to the Big Island. I would be very happy for that. But, for now there is much to do.
I received a letter from the board of health, instructing me to prepare the house next to ours for the arrival of a patient who is very important. He will arrive sometime the end of June. They did not give me the name of the person, and Kitty and I are very curious.
I am sorry for the length of this letter, but since I do not write that often, I figured you would forgive me. I hope you are doing well, my dear friend. I often think of the time we were together in Salt Lake City. Please send my love to our most gracious prophet, Brigham Young, and would you please ask him if he could send me another picture of him? I gave the one I had away, and Kitty is mad at me for doing it.
May your family be well. We look forward to your letters.
Your brother in the Lord,
Jonathan Napela
George sat for the longest time, staring at the paper in his hand, and ruminating about the vagaries of life. Life was difficult, but for some it seemed to be more difficult than for others. Some people suffered their challenges silently, while others made themselves verbose martyrs for the world’s sympathy. And, here was his dear friend living in a leper colony and excited about a horse. A horse.
Elizabeth stood. “Are you all right now?”
He looked at her and smiled. “I’m better, yes. You were right. My friend’s faith has given me some comfort.” He stood up, took her in his arms, and gave her a kiss. “And I have decided something.”
“Oh, yes? What is that?”
“No work today. No work for me, no cleaning for you, no studies for the children. We are going to load up the wagon and take a drive up the canyon. We will take a picnic and we will do nothing but loaf around and play games.”
Elizabeth looked surprised. “No work for you?”
“No work, wife!” She laughed at his bluster. “No work! No work! No work! Now, off you go to tell the wives and children!”
“But what about the picnic?”
“I will help you with the picnic! I will help you harness the children! I will even help you put on your bonnet if it will get you going!”
Elizabeth was in a fit of giggles as she scurried out the door and into the hallway. George heard her calling orders and alerting the children to the amazing day ahead. In the squeals, questions, and general hubbub that followed, George slipped the letter from his friend into its envelope, sent out a prayer of strength and comfort to those far away in Kalawao, and went to change out of his cumbersome suit.
Note
George Q. Cannon served four terms as the Utah territorial delegate to Congress. He was the editor of the Deseret News, and started a publishing company, Cannon and Sons, which would later become Deseret Book Company.
Chapter 46
Kalawao, Moloka‘i
June 29, 1873
Since his arrival at Kalawao, Jonathan had never seen the people so excited about the arrival of a boat. The procession to the landing at Kalaupapa showed a bevy of adorned patients, wearing the best of their tattered clothing—clothing normally saved for Sunday wear. The kokua had gone to the valley with the first light of day and brought back leaves and flowers to be fashioned into charming leis. These ornaments now draped the necks and crowned the heads of the well and the disfigured.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go with me to the landing to see the great man arrive?” Jonathan asked as he settled Kitty into her rocker on the lanai.
“No, too many people.”
“I understand.” He tucked a quilt gently around her legs. “Will you be all right without me for the afternoon?”
“Yes, of course. I can do some things for myself now.”
Jonathan beamed at her. “Yes, you can! You are gaining strength every day.”
“Well, you’d better be off,” Kitty answered, a slight edge to her voice. She moderated her tone. “Did you and Malia get the house cleaned?”
“We did. It wasn’t easy with Kepola running in and out.”
Someone called to Jonathan from the road. “Aloha, luna! You’d better hurry or you will see only the backside of the boat as it returns to Honolulu.”
Jonathan turned and waved. “I’m waiting for the priest. He’s riding over in the wagon with me.”
“Ah! The sick have to walk and the well get to ride,” the caller said with good humor.
“You are welcome to ride if you are willing to do the work of loading the wagon when we get there.”
The caller chuckled. “No, no! I had enough work just getting out of bed today.”
Jonathan waved at the patient as he limped off down the road.
“Jonathan, look,” Kitty said. “The father is coming now.” She pointed off to the east, where Father Damien could be seen coming up the road. He walked with a cluster of patients who all seemed to be trying to talk to him at once.
“I will meet him at the wagon,” Jonathan said, bending down to place his forehead on his wife’s. She leaned back, and he chided himself for forgetting the painful condition of her skin. “Aloha nui. Is there anything else I can get you before I leave?”
She touched his face. “I am fine. Go and take care of the important patient.”
“Here at Kalawao, there is no one more important than anyone else,” Jonathan scoffed. “He will soon learn that.” He turned and walked down the steps and off to the place where the horse stood patiently, already harnessed to the wagon. He raised his hand and Father Damien hailed him in return. Jonathan saw him say a few words to those walking with him. The group called out words of parting and continued on their way, as Damien headed toward the wagon.
“Good day, Father!” Jonathan called out as the priest approached. “I hope one wagon is enough for all of the great man’s things.”
Father Damien chuckled as he came up beside the wagon. “How many things must one man have at Kalawao?” he asked.
The two climbed up onto the buckboard together and settled themselves into an affable companionship. “Walk on,” Jonathan commanded, and the horse started off down the track that would merge with the main road to Kalaupapa.
“I have some news for you,” Father Damien said after a few minutes of silence. His look was solemn, and Jonathan wondered what new bit of sadness troubled him. The work and the heartache were better shared than kept to a single burden.
“Of course, Father. We can work it out together.”
“I have written to Bishop Maigret in Honolulu concerning the rotation with the other priests.”
Jonathan’s heart lurched in his chest. Father Damien was going to leave them early. Leave them well before his three-month assignment was finished. Jonathan held his disappointment in check. He well understood the crushing responsibility of Kalawao: the toll on body, mind, and spirit; the never-ending toil; the putrid death. He understood how a young man, even a young man of great faith and compassion, would struggle under the weight of hopelessness. Jonathan braced his emotions for the announcement.
“I have requested that there be no rotation. I have requested to live out the remainder of my days at Kalawao.”
The force of the words hit Jonathan like a punch, and he found it difficult to breath. He pulled the horse to a stop and stared over at the young priest. Emotion broke through his restraint, and tears coursed down his cheeks. “‘Oni kalalea ke ku a ka la ‘au loa,” he said with great reverence. A tall tree stands above the others.
Many patients passed by the wagon on their way to Kalaupapa and wondered at the spectacle of the two shepherds weeping together. It was several minutes before either man could speak. Finally Father Damien took out a large handkerchief and wiped his face. He blew out a large breath of air. “It is what I have been called to do, Brother Napela. When the Lord speaks strongly, then we must obey. Do you understand this?”
“I do, my friend.”
Father Damien sat straighter and looked Jonathan squarely in the face. “It would have been much more difficult to make the decision to stay if you were not here, Brother Napela. Do you understand this?”
Jonathan nodded. “I do understand. I am glad that we can work together. It means much to us here at Kalawao that you have made this choice, Kamiano. God takes note of your obedience and sacrifice.” Before Father Damien could respond, Jonathan tapped the lines on the horse’s rump and the wagon began to move forward.
On the way to Kalaupapa the two men discussed the newly arrived and the newly dead, the need for more medical supplies, and how they must pray harder for a doctor to join them at the colony—a doctor to administer to the sick. They debated about the best place to run the pipes that would bring water from the valley to the settlement, and they arranged a time when they would get together to build more coffins. By the time they entered Kalaupapa and saw the schooner Kinau weighing anchor, they had the affairs of the colony organized for the next several days.
Kepola came running to the wagon as soon as it came into sight at the landing. “Father Kamiano, Luna Napela! Where have you been? I have been here for hours!”
The two men smiled as they got down from the buckboard. “I have no doubt,” Jonathan said, ruffling the boy’s hair. “Are Kono and Malia with you?”
“Yes, of course. They wouldn’t want to miss the exciting day.”
Jonathan tied the wagon lines to a nearby tree. “They probably grew tired of your pestering.”
Kepola gave him an impish grin. “Me? I am no trouble to anyone.” The schooner’s bell rang, and Kepola jumped. “Ah! Come on! Come on! They’re putting down the longboats!”
“Well, run along then,” Jonathan instructed as he secured the settlement ledger. “Father Kamiano and I will follow at a slower pace.” Kepola turned quickly and ran off to join a group of boys standing at the very edge of the water. Jonathan watched him with affection. “That Kepola makes me laugh.”
