Belonging to Heaven, page 32
“Jonathan, is that you?”
There were tears and a note of panic in her voice, and Jonathan hurried to the bedroom. He put his writing things on the side table and took her in his arms. She began sobbing. He held her lightly so as not to irritate her skin. “Hush, hush, my dear Keliikuaaina. I am here. I am right here with you.”
“You cannot leave me. Please, please do not leave me.”
“I am not going away.”
“Who will care for me if you go?”
He gently brushed her hair away from her face. “Kitty, I am not going away.”
“But, they will come for you, and I have no way to hide you like you hid me at Laie.”
“You will not need to hide me, because they will not come for me.”
She attempted to focus on his face. “How do you know this?”
Jonathan stood and went to his pile of papers. He selected one and turned back to her. “I have written a letter to President Hall and the board of health giving the reasons why I should be allowed to stay.” He moved back to the bed and handed her his handkerchief.
“They must let you stay, Jonathan. They must.”
“I think the words I have written are strong.” He sat on the bed. “Would you like me to read them to you?” She nodded and he gave her an encouraging smile. He looked at the paper and read.
To E.O. Hall, President of the Board of Health
Dear Sir,
I received the notification from the board of health informing me of my termination as superintendent and ordering me to return to my home on Maui.
I hereby thank the board with full gratitude. However, regarding the order that I am to return home, I humbly petition the board, and its benevolence as our father, to permit me to stay here with my wife as kokua, for the following reasons:
On August 3, 1843 I took my wife as my legally married wife and on that same day I vowed before God to care for my wife in health and sickness, and until death do us part.
From the time my wife arrived on Moloka‘i, she has not been in strong and good health. Several weeks ago I stayed at home to be near her, and I had my subordinates come to my house where we worked on the tasks given me to administrate.
I am sixty years old and do not have much longer to live. During the brief time remaining, I want to be with my wife.
He felt Kitty’s body shudder and he reached his arm around her to hold her close. He continued reading, his voice low and soft.
My wife has also lived a long life, but with this disease, it will quickly shorten her life. Such is the reason for this petition.
Kitty began crying and Jonathan lowered the letter. “I just go on to say how I’ve been in close contact with the patients and that it would be a misjudgment on the part of the board to send me into the lives of healthy people when there’s a chance the sickness could be in my body.”
Kitty sat away from him. “It’s not, is it?”
“No, but it is a good argument.”
Kitty leaned back against her pillows. “Read me the rest.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Jonathan found his place in the letter.
Many kokua have been permitted by the board of health to live here assisting their patients. With that same benevolence I ask the board to approve me.
I know that the patients dying at Kalawao do not have just leprosy, but also fever, stomachache, severe pain, dizziness, and so forth. When these symptoms strike, people are without medicine because there is no one to fetch medicines or assist in caring and serving those people afflicted. The result is usually death.
With the hope that I will encounter your favor regarding my petition.
I remain your humble servant,
J. H. Napela
Kitty closed her eyes and relaxed into her pillows. “It is a good letter.”
Jonathan took the handkerchief from her and dried the last of her tears. “Rest now.” At that moment he heard his name called from a distance. The young piping voice was drawing nearer, and Jonathan went quickly to the window to see who it was. Kepola. I’ll feed that boy to the sharks.
Jonathan turned to make sure that Kitty was sleeping and then went quickly to the porch to intercept the intruder. As soon as Kepola saw him step out the door, he called loudly.
“Luna! Luna Napela! You must come quickly.”
“Kepola, be quiet! My wife is not well.”
Kepola rushed to Jonathan’s side, moderating his volume but not his urgency. “Luna, you must come now to Father Damien’s house. There is something wrong with him.”
“What do you mean?”
“He is stumbling around his house, talking to himself, and crying.”
“He is crying? Are you sure, Kepola? Father Damien is not one to cry.”
“I am not making it up, luna. Others heard him too.”
“Let me check on my wife. If she is sleeping, I will come with you.”
Several minutes later the two companions were moving down the road toward the Catholic church and the newly built rectory. Gray mist clung to the tops of the cliffs, and a cold wind whistled down from the canyon. Clouds were gathering over the ocean, and Jonathan knew that soon a chilling rain would soak the barren landscape. He tried to keep pace with Kepola, but his joints ached and his breathing was labored. How good were the days when he ran up the trail into the Iao Valley! As they neared the single story house that was Father Damien’s shelter, Jonathan noticed a gathering of patients standing behind the fence and staring in the direction of the structure.
“See, I told you,” Kepola announced.
When they reached the gathering, the sounds of something amiss were clearly evident; there was indeed crying, along with periodic bangs and clatters coming from inside Father Damien’s house.
Jonathan patted Kepola on the shoulder and spoke to the group. “Stay here, everyone. I will go and see what the trouble is.”
Everyone seemed more than happy to have Luna Napela be the one to investigate.
Jonathan walked up onto the porch and called out. “Father Damien, it is Napela.” He moved to the door and knocked. “May I come in?”
A ragged voice called out. “Yes, yes, come in. Come in.”
Jonathan opened the door onto chaos: the bedding material was pulled off the bed frame and lay in a heap on the floor, the dishes were out of the cupboard, and papers were strewn everywhere. Jonathan stepped carefully into the room and shut the door. “What has happened here, Kamiano?”
“I’ve lost them! I’ve lost them!” He opened several drawers in his desk, which he had obviously cleared before, and ran his hand along the wood. “I just had them. I know I saw them yesterday.”
Jonathan moved closer and spoke in a soothing tone. “What is it you’ve lost?”
Father Damien did not look at him but kept looking and weeping. “The food tickets. The food tickets. Several of the patients gave me their food tickets to keep safe, and now I’ve lost them.” He gripped the side of the desk and sobbed.
Jonathan went to him and laid his hand on his slumped shoulder. This behavior was so uncharacteristic of his friend. “Kamiano, I am the resident superintendent. I trust that you had the tickets, and I will issue you new ones for the patients.” Father Damien continued to sob. “Now, what really is the trouble?”
“Mr . . . Mr. Williamson told me about the letter you shared with him from the board of health.”
“Ah.”
“They . . . they can’t really send you away, can they?”
Jonathan righted a wooden chair. “Here, sit down.” Father Damien did, wiping his face on the sleeve of his cassock. Jonathan brought another chair and sat facing him. “They have taken away my place as resident superintendent.” Damien looked at him with a face of loss. “And they have requested that I leave Kalawao.”
“They can’t! Oh, they can’t!”
“Yes, they can.” Damien started to rise in agitation, and Jonathan put a hand on his shoulder to keep him seated. “But . . . but I have written a letter to the board requesting that I be allowed to stay to take care of my wife.”
“You have?”
“Yes. And, I have faith that they will grant my request.”
Father Damien put his head in his hands and wept. It was a long while before he composed himself, and Jonathan waited patiently. Finally he looked up. “I would wish no one to stay here at Kalawao who had the opportunity to leave, but I do not know what I would do without you. You are my friend, Napela. My great friend.”
“I feel the same, Kamiano.” Jonathan patted the young priest tenderly on the shoulder like a father would a son. He went to the door and opened it, calling out to those still standing by the fence. “All is well! Father Kamiano had lost something, but now it is found. Go home before the rain comes!” He waved to Kepola. “Hey, Kepola!”
Kepola stopped. “Yes, luna?”
“Would you go and ask Malia if she will walk up to my house and check on my wife?”
“Of course. I will stay with Kono while she is gone.”
The patients turned to leave, and Jonathan went back into the disheveled room. For the rest of the afternoon as the wind blew, and the rain pelted the tin roof, the two friends worked together to bring order back into Father Damien’s house.
Notes
In the fall and winter of 1873, the kalo crop on the islands failed. Because of this there was a shortage of poi, the staple of the Hawaiian diet. On the major islands and near towns and cities, it was not such a problem, but at Kalawao the result was starvation for many of the leprosy patients.
The letter Jonathan Napela sent, requesting permission to stay on as Kitty’s kokua, is in the archives of the Hawaii Board of Health.
Chapter 48
Kalawao, Moloka‘i
November 17, 1874
The board of health had sanctioned Jonathan Hawaii Napela’s request to stay on at the leper colony as his wife’s kokua, and, although he no longer distributed the food or supplies or made daily rounds to check on the patients, little else had changed. Jonathan was regarded with respect as he cared for the people, worked on the water system, assisted Mr. Williamson at the hospital, and helped Father Damien with numerous tasks. The one thing that changed over the months following his dismissal was his increased loathing for William Ragsdale. Jonathan was usually patient with a person’s weaknesses, but Ragsdale chose to be a bully and a reprobate, and because of his callousness the patients suffered.
When Jonathan thought of the past winter, his anger and frustration rose. So many had died—died from starvation because Ragsdale would not fight for them. There had been a failure of the kalo crops across the islands, and poi was scarce, but Ragsdale refused to insist that the board of health send sweet potatoes to supplement the loss. He would not even elicit Superintendent Meyer to bring down more cattle for slaughter. Jonathan knew Ragsdale did this to make himself seem efficient in the eyes of his superiors. He gave the patients only small portions of salted meat or fish, and rice—a diet they could not tolerate. When Ragsdale did receive poi, he would give it to his friends and give the people rice instead. Often he just told the sickest patients to go away and die. And many did just that.
“Why do you wear a scowl?” Father Damien asked, looking up from the support stud he was nailing.
Jonathan shook his head in frustration. “Ah, I was just thinking of the hard time last winter.”
Father Damien hammered another nail into place. “I try not to think about that time. It just makes me angry.”
“Probably a good idea. Better to think about now.”
“Indeed. Our gardens are growing, the orphanage is built . . .”
“And the dormitory.”
Father Damien stood and brushed sawdust from his cassock. “And now we are finishing your chapel.”
“Yes, and I am grateful,” Jonathan said as he scrutinized the good work. “Are we ready to raise that final wall?”
“We are.”
Jonathan called to the other carpenters, and they came to assist. As the wall rose, Jonathan felt a rush of emotion. The Mormon chapel was being built by Catholic, Protestant, and Mormon faithful, as well as a few pagans mixed in. Jonathan smiled. All were children of Father in Heaven. All were loved. Even with the dreaded disease, most of the people of Kalawao lived their lives with brotherhood and compassion. Perhaps it was because of the disease that they found a higher vision.
The wall stood, and the men went to work securing it. Jonathan looked around at what their effort had accomplished, and, although it was just a floor and walls at the moment, he loved the little chapel. It would not be as grand as the churches of the Protestants or the Catholics, but Jonathan did not care. It would house his little flock and be a place of refuge every Sabbath day. There would now be three houses of worship standing on the north side of the Kalaupapa Road—three sacred dwellings where people could go to gain strength for another day of living with leprosy.
A sudden wind blew down from the pali, snatching the hat from Jonathan’s head and making the skeletal walls of the chapel shake. Jonathan looked out to sea. Clouds had been gathering all morning, but they hadn’t seemed to predict a coming storm. Another gust made him sway sideways, and he stared up to the pali where dark clouds were billowing over the cliffs. He was troubled by how fast the clouds were moving and knew a strong Kona wind was the force pushing them.
Father Damien brought him his hat. “A bad storm is coming.”
“Yes. We must send everyone home.”
The two men held onto their hats as another strong gust blew past. This blast was of longer duration. It picked up small pieces of wood from the work site and whirled them into the air. The men bent low and covered their heads for protection from the flying debris. Jonathan yelled at the workers to secure their tools and head for home. They complied immediately.
Jonathan saw Peter Kaeo struggling along the road, leading his horse. He made sure Father Damien was safely on his way and then headed off to intercept Kaeo.
“Kaeo!” Jonathan called as he pushed against the wind toward his friend. He knew that the big man was unsteady on his pain-ridden legs, and he worried that a fall might bring on grim complications. The gust abated, and Jonathan moved quickly to Peter’s side. He was hunched over and breathing hard when Jonathan reached him. “I am here with you, my friend.”
Peter looked up and gave him a feeble nod. “Where did this come from?” he wheezed. “The god of weather is angry about something.”
“We should move ahead while the wind is down,” Jonathan encouraged.
Peter gathered his strength, and the two men moved off. A crack of thunder rumbled over the pali, and Peter’s horse shied sideways. Jonathan calmed him and said a prayer that they would make it to their homes before the full force of the storm engulfed them.
***
The tempest lasted four days, and the final day was the most devastating. The fierce wind blew from the south and the west, shredding the plants in the garden, uprooting newly planted trees, and leveling many houses. An unceasing torrent of rain filled the rivers and created dozens of waterfalls that leapt over the pali and cascaded two thousand feet down the sides of the sheer cliffs. The ocean waves were so high that the entire coastline was engulfed in surge after surge of white spray.
The afternoon of the fourth day, the wind abated and the clouds broke apart to reveal snatches of blue sky. The people of Kalawao emerged from their insecure shelters to hope for sun and assess the damage. Jonathan ventured down to the village area to check on the people. He stood staring at the devastation left behind by the storm. The few trees in the village had been stripped of leaves, and one had been snapped in half, its splintered trunk pointing skyward. More than twenty houses had been flattened to the ground, while the majority of thatched hales had nothing left but the framing. People stumbled about in a daze. Their hearts, which they’d trained to be numb to the vicissitudes of wholeness and health, were now twisted alive by a sudden tragedy they could not reckon. Jonathan could not comprehend what he was seeing until his gaze fell on the house of Kono and Malia—or what had once been the house of Kono and Malia. Jonathan squinted his old eyes to focus on a rounded lump in the road. It was Kepola, squatting in the dirt and staring at the rubble. Jonathan moved to stand beside him, but the boy did not look up.
“Kepola?” Still there was no movement. “Kepola? Where are Kono and Malia?” Slowly the boy pointed to the wreckage.
“They have left me behind.”
Jonathan’s legs lost strength, and he sat down in the road next to the boy. They sat silently for a long time, while people passed by, and slivers of sunlight flickered through the clouds.
“Napela?”
Jonathan looked up into the weary face of Father Damien.
“We need your help.”
With Father Damien’s assistance, Jonathan slowly pushed himself onto his feet. “Come on, Kepola. I will take you home,” he said, extending his hand. He looked over to Father Damien. “I will return as soon as he is settled.”
Kepola took Jonathan’s hand, and the two set off down the road. There were no words spoken until they reached the house, and Jonathan saw Kitty standing on the porch. “A tender bird has fallen from the sky,” he called to her. Kitty shaded her eyes and waited. The two wanderers ascended the steps and stood on the porch, Jonathan catching his breath, and Kepola staring at his bare feet. Jonathan met Kitty’s gaze. “Kono and Malia have walked the rainbow.”
Kitty bit her bottom lip. “Anyone else?”
