Belonging to Heaven, page 34
Jonathan put his arm around the boy’s shoulder. “I think we’d better not tell Sister Napela.”
Kepola nodded. “Good idea. No sense giving her something to worry about that’s already done.”
Jonathan chuckled. “Ah, Kepola. What am I going to do with you?”
“Feed me! I’m starving!”
“Well, supper is ready, but you need to put the horse away first.”
Kepola looked stricken. “Couldn’t I just . . .”
“No. Horse first. Sometimes we must do things that are difficult.”
Kepola gave him a resigned sigh. “All right.” He began pulling the horse along at a faster pace. “Do I get extra poi for not complaining?”
“Yes, yes. Get along with you now.” Kepola whooped and headed for the corral. Jonathan shook his head as he watched him go. “Extra poi for not complaining.” A sudden wave of melancholy washed over him as he moved forward and pain shot into his feet. “O ka ‘aui aku no koe o ka la.” The sun will soon go down. He looked up to see an owl float through the twilight sky. “Please, Lord Jesus. May there be someone to watch over Kepola when Kitty and I are gone.”
Notes
One of the first symptoms of leprosy is pain in the hands and legs as nerves deaden and joints swell.
In June of 1876, the board of health sent a review committee to evaluate a few of the patients for release from the Kalawao settlement. Peter Kaeo was among the few whose case was considered. At first his petition was rejected. Then a letter came from Honolulu informing him that his condition had improved enough for him to leave Kalawao. He left the island the first part of July 1876 to a special care facility in Honolulu. He died four years later.
Chapter 50
The Parker Ranch, Hawaii
July 1876
When Kamuela Parker saw Tomi, his Japanese cook, riding out to the back paddock on Panana’s horse, he knew something was wrong. He immediately left off speaking with his foreman and rushed to meet him. His thoughts were on one thing. The baby. Has Panana lost the baby? Tomi clumsily reined the horse to a stop and tumbled from the bare back. Kamuela caught him.
“Tomi, what is it?”
The little man was crying. “I no know Misser Parker, you come quick.”
“Is it the baby?”
“No, no. Not baby. Missy Parker she scream and cry. She tear up garden.”
Kamuela jumped onto his wife’s horse and headed for the house. As he drew near the outbuildings he could hear his wife screaming. They were not screams of pain but of anger and sorrow. He slid off the horse and ran to the front garden. Panana was screaming and yanking at a hibiscus bush, attempting to pull it from the ground.
Kamuela grabbed her shoulders. “Panana! Stop! Stop!”
She glared up at him, her face streaked with dirt, her eyes red from crying. “Let me go!”
Kamuela’s grip tightened. “No. You must stop! This is not good for the baby.”
An animal sound came up from Panana’s chest and she slumped to the ground. “My body will break from the sadness. It will break.”
Kamuela knelt by her. “It must not break, Panana. It must not. What would the children and I do without you?”
“And what will I do without my Makua kane?”
“Your father? Has something happened to your father?”
She clutched at the grass. “Auwe! Auwe! He has sent a letter! He ma‘i makamaka ‘ole!” The disease that deprives one of relatives and friends.
Kamuela sat down hard on the dirt. There was nothing to do but mourn.
***
Salt Lake City, Utah
George Cannon was on his knees, pleading for strength, pleading for understanding. He knew the words—he knew the promises, but the solace of the Spirit was overwhelmed by the specter of the shadow of death. How could this be? His friend had just been made the district president. There was work for him to do. For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord.
George opened his eyes and looked to heaven. “That does not help my heart,” he lamented. He stood and picked up Brother Napela’s letter. He folded it carefully and put it back in its envelope, knowing what he needed to do. He needed to find Joseph F. Smith and share the sorrow. It was nearing the end of the work day so he gathered his things and headed out of the building. He would walk through Temple Square and past the Endowment House. He would think about the day when Jonathan Hawaii Napela was endowed with power from on high. He would think on the blessings of the priesthood and the gift of eternal life. He would focus on doctrine until the pain in his heart lessened.
***
Kaneohe, Oahu
Brother and Sister Winston carried their baskets of lehua flowers to the small fishing boat. Before the sun rose, Sister Winston had insisted they hike into the mountain valley to gather the delicate scarlet blossoms. No letter of grief was going to derail her faith or keep her from offering a tribute that would honor the man.
Now she sat stoically in the prow of the boat holding the baskets of sacred flowers while Brother Winston rowed. “Out past the reef if you can manage, my love.”
“I will do the best I can,” Mr. Winston said, smiling.
“That is all anyone can expect,” Mrs. Winston responded.
The boat broke through a light surf and continued on toward the reef and open water. Sister Winston called a halt in a place where the ocean was relatively calm, and the sun flickered in golden shafts through the turquoise water. Mr. Winston put up the oars, and Mrs. Winston handed him a basket. One by one the two haole Saints laid the puffy red blossoms on the water and sang in the best voices they could muster.
Come, come, ye Saints, no toil nor labor fear;
But with joy wend your way.
Though hard to you this journey may appear,
Grace shall be as your day.
’Tis better far for us to strive
Our useless cares from us to drive.
Do this, and joy your hearts will swell!
All is well! All is well!
***
Kalawao, Moloka‘i
President Napela stood in front of his flock in their little chapel in Kalawao. His love for them was great. More than any other congregation with whom he’d associated, the Saints of Kalawao were patient, humble, and compassionate. He saw their swollen faces, the nodules, the ulcerated sores on their deformed hands, and the collapsed noses. They were all beautiful. He was given the gift to see them as God saw them. Man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart.
Jonathan opened his Hawaiian Book of Mormon. “In Mosiah, we read about some of our responsibilities as baptized members of the Church: ‘Yea, and are willing to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, and to stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places that ye may be in, even until death, that ye may be redeemed of God, and be numbered with those of the first resurrection, that ye may have eternal life.’” He looked up and saw Kepola wipe tears away with the back of his hand, as Kitty put her arm around his shoulder. “Be of good cheer, brothers and sisters,” Jonathan said tenderly. “How glad we should be for the gospel of Jesus Christ that teaches us about resurrection and eternal life. What peace to know that God is aware of us and that He loves us. Our flesh may be imperfect, but we know a peace of the Spirit that others will never know in this life, for we truly do comfort those that stand in need of comfort. We truly do stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places—even until death.” Several heads nodded. “We truly do mourn with those that mourn.” Jonathan stood silent for several moments as gratitude overwhelmed him. “You are my friends, and I thank you for the comfort you have given me over the past months. Our bodies may be weak, but our spirits are mighty, and we will walk through our trials together.”
As the Saints sang the final hymn, they looked at their leader and saw him, not as a chief separated from them, but as a brother. He was one of them, a child of God paddling his canoe through the fierce storms of life.
Chapter 51
Kalawao, Moloka‘i
October 26, 1878
The cold rains of autumn had arrived with a chill that invaded the bones and could not be exiled. The shadow of the great cliffs shrouded the Makanalua Peninsula much of the day, preventing the outcasts of Kalawao from witnessing either sunrise or sunset, thus casting a pall over the ill-fated inhabitants.
Jonathan Hawaii Napela stood on the side of the Kauhako crater, looking down at the brackish pool of water at its bottom. The ancient practice of throwing the bodies of the dead into the pool made him think of graves—the extra graves that had to be dug at Kalawao and Kalaupapa in the winter months. He forced his gaze away from the trapped bit of sea and his mind away from morbid thoughts. Over the past two years, since the sign of leprosy had imprinted itself into his body, Jonathan had forced his spirit to override his flesh. Much of the time he was successful, but on gloomy days like today, his fortitude failed. Fragments of his past life haunted him. Where was the handsome young man who had won the attention of the beautiful Kitty Keliikuaaina Richardson? Where was the strength of his hands that had once held the reins of his horse, or the strength of his legs that had once taken him into the Iao Valley?
Jonathan looked down on the ruins of the ancient heiau on which he stood. Legend said it was the most sacred of all the Moloka‘i temples, and he tried to chant words that would pull the mana from the stone up into his body, but he could not. His throat was swollen with the disease, and phlegm blocked the once mellow voice. Dear Lord, he prayed silently. Give me the strength to endure.
The sound of footfalls met his ears, and Jonathan turned in their direction. Kepola was running over the barren landscape to meet him.
“Brother Napela!” he called.
The boy’s foot caught on a stone, and he fell flat, but he was up again in a second and continuing his run. Jonathan could not keep from smiling. He needed to get the boy a proper pair of shoes so he wouldn’t stumble so much. He decided to take him to the colony store that very afternoon.
“Brother Napela!”
Jonathan waved and waited for Kepola to reach him. The boy had a cheerful look, so Jonathan did not anticipate some new report of disaster. Kepola made it to his side and stood panting for breath. Jonathan waited patiently. Finally, with a big gulp of air, Kepola straightened and spoke.
“Luna, there are men who have come to see you,” he said in a rush.
“Men? From where?”
“They have taken the trail from topside.”
Jonathan shook his head. “That is not what I meant. Do you know who they are?”
Kepola was beginning to recover his breath. “They are from the Church.”
“Which church?”
Kepola gave him an impatient look. “Our church.” He took Jonathan by the arm. “Come on! They are waiting for you at Father Kamiano’s house. I told them I would find you right away, and it’s been an hour! You should never go off without telling someone where you’re going.”
As he was pulled along, Jonathan chuckled to himself. He rather liked being scolded like a child. After a few minutes, he had to stop. “You must go slower, Kepola. Remember, I am an old man, and the leprosy has caught up to me.”
“Would you like me to run ahead and tell them you are coming?”
“Yes. That is a very good idea.”
Kepola hurried off, and Jonathan began his slow trek. He passed a scattering of houses, the hospital compound, the bath house with its new water system, and the store. Several people who sat huddled in blankets on the lanai waved to him. He said his hellos and continued on. This was his life. All of this was familiar. He walked past the many new houses that had been built after the storm of ’74. His legs were hurting, but he kept walking—past the LDS church, past the Protestant church, to the fence and the gate, and into Father Damien’s garden. As he neared the porch, the door opened and Kepola rushed out, followed sedately by three men. Jonathan recognized them all immediately.
“Brother Richards, Brother Nehemia, Brother Kalawaia. How good to see you!”
Brother Richards stepped toward him. “Brother Napela?”
Jonathan stopped. He had forgotten that these men had not seen him since the April conference in Laie, two years ago, and he was much changed. To them he must look like a monster.
Brother Richards continued to him, putting his hands gently on Jonathan’s shoulders. “Aloha, Brother Napela. We have come to see you.”
The Hawaiian brethren came forward with their greetings and love, but they did not touch their friend.
“I am sorry that you had to wait for me,” Jonathan said.
“That was no trouble, dear friend. We have been visiting with Father Damien.”
“How long will you be in Kalawao?” Jonathan asked hopefully.
“Four days. We wish to visit with you and Sister Napela and to assess the needs of the Saints.”
Jonathan liked Brother Richards’s efficient manner and how he treated him not as a leper, but as a Church leader. “Four days. That will be good. It is not a long time, but I am grateful. And where are you staying?”
“Father Damien suggested that we stay in the house vacated by Peter Kaeo.”
“Oh, yes. That will work well,” Jonathan said, looking over to Father Damien. “Thank you for that.”
“So, we will visit, and you can show us the settlement and give us a report.”
“Yes, there are many things to discuss.”
“Good. And on Sunday we will attend church with you at Kalawao.”
Jonathan brightened. “Yes, and then we must walk to Kalaupapa to visit with the Saints there.”
“Well, if it will not overtire you.”
“Oh, he can walk,” Kepola blurted out. “You just have to go slowly.”
Jonathan gave Kepola a measured look. “Brethren, this is Kepola—my mother.”
Everyone laughed, and Jonathan felt his spirit lift. He looked into the faces of his friends, and saw a glimpse of heaven where there was family, brotherhood, laughter, and no sickness.
***
As they went to Kalaupapa for the Sunday service, Kepola walked ahead of the group with one of his friends. Jonathan noticed the shortness of his pants. He would have Kepola write to his mother to ask for a longer pair. Jonathan’s mind continued to comb through a list of tasks: fix the broken window pane in the Kalawao chapel, hoe the weeds in the garden, check on gravesites in the Kalaupapa area, get Kepola to write to his mother . . .
“Napela?”
Jonathan turned his gaze from the road in front of him to the men walking beside him. “I’m sorry, did you ask me something?” He worked to clear his head of jumbled thoughts. “I guess I was preoccupied.”
“As you have every right to be,” Brother Richards said. “I do not think I could keep up with all you have to do.”
“Well, there are many people who help, and, of course, Father Damien is a very hard worker.”
“He feels the same about you, you know. In fact, when we were at his house the other day, do you know what he said about you?”
“I cannot guess.”
“He said that you and he were yoke mates. That’s what he said. Yoke mates. That many vital jobs were done when the two of you worked together.”
“Well, that is kind of him, but recently I have not been much help.”
“A time and a season, Brother Napela. A time and a season.”
The group of men walked along in silence for a time enjoying the cool, rainless day. Jonathan felt at peace. It was good to be with these Church leaders who sacrificed their time to care for the members. They had also given money to make repairs to the hospital and purchase needed ointments and medicines for the patients. And, most important, their visit had brought new life to Kitty. She served the men simple meals, sat with them on the lanai, and joined in the conversations.
Jonathan decided that after the other brethren spoke in the afternoon meeting, he would give a few words on gratitude.
***
The four days had passed quickly, and now Jonathan stood at the base of the pali waving at the Church leaders as they began their ascent up the hazardous trail to topside.
“Watch your footing! Some of the places are narrow.”
“Mahalo, Brother Napela! We will be careful!” Brother Richards called back. “We will write to you . . . and to Kepola.”
Kepola waved enthusiastically. “Mahalo, good Brother Richards!”
Jonathan laughed. He did not know what the next months would bring, but for this day he felt fortified.
“Well, we should probably start back down to the valley to Kalawao, since you walk so slowly,” Kepola said.
“When I was younger I could have beaten you in any foot race,” Jonathan growled.
“A hundred years ago.”
“Your legs are skinny. My mother, Wiwiokalani, made me balance on a round stone to give my legs strength.”
“Balancing on a round stone? That’s an ancient practice. See, like I said, a hundred years ago!”
Kepola ran forward laughing, and Jonathan picked up a kukui nut, and threw it at the back of the boy’s head.
“Ow! That wasn’t fair!”
“And a hundred years ago, my father, Hawaii Waaole, taught me to throw the kukui nut.”
Kepola came back to him laughing, and rubbing the sore spot on his head. “Maybe you could teach me to throw the kukui nut.”
“Maybe,” Jonathan said, ruffling his hair. “Maybe I can.”
Note
Elder Henry Richards would recount his trip to Kalawao in his journal. He told of walking with Napela to Kalaupapa to check on the Saints there, and of his meeting with Father Damien where the priest referred to Jonathan Napela as his yoke mate.
Chapter 52
Kalawao, Moloka‘i
August 6, 1879
