Molokai – Hawaii for Hawaiians
Part 3

By Thomas Scheuneman

The Kalaupapa Peninsula and Father Damien-The Martyr of Molokai

May 10, 1873… The little inter-island steamer came about into the surf and weighed anchor a few hundred yards offshore from the Kalaupapa Peninsula, a little jut of land off the northern coast of Molokai, a grim place of which banishment and almost certain death awaited those with the terrifying and little understood disease of leprosy, now more commonly known as “Hansen’s Disease”.

As the boat anchored off the coast, angry voices, mixed with the haunting sound of human suffering, could be heard by those waiting onshore…

One by one, people jumped, or where pushed, off the boat, small bundles of possessions thrown after them. This was the beginning of life for those unfortunate enough to be exiled to this place of sadness, suffering, disease, and despair.

Among those unfortunates, those to whom all hope was lost, those that were sent away from human society, was a beacon of light, of hope, and courage. Struggling against the strong surf toward the uninviting shore was a man who had come here by choice. This man was Father Joseph Damien deVeuster. He carried with him a prayer book and the clothes on his back.

Father Damien would spend many years caring for these forgotten people, banished to this isolated island colony. He also used his political skills in focusing the attention of the Church, and finally the world, to the inhumane living conditions the people of this colony were forced to endure. This attention would lead to outrage and indignation, and finally to change.

But to the people onshore watching this fresh load of Banishment swim toward shore, Father Damien was just another lost soul heading in toward their forgotten island.

Out of the despair that this scene describes comes the story of one man’s faith, and one man’s ability to make a difference. He gave of himself so completely to his life’s work, to comforting and aiding the sick, that he himself succumbed to the disease of leprosy and died in 1889, sixteen years after that first day as he swam ashore to Molokai.

On the day he died, Father Damien would forever be known as “The Martyr of Molokai”

This little peninsula, just four miles square, jutting off the central northern coast of Molokai, was not always home to such misery. Before the “leper colony” was established in 1865 by King Kamehameha V, natives lived in an isolated village on the western side of the peninsula. The people raised pigs, grew sweet potatoes, and fished for survival.

Kauhako is now an extinct volcano, but from her more fiery days came the formation of this thrust of land off the main island. At the bottom of this volcano lies a large lake, more than 800 feet deep. This lake was used as a burial site by ancient Hawaiians, and still supports a variety of shrimp not found anywhere else in the world.

The colony established by Kamehameha V started on the eastern side of the peninsula, but soon grew in size, and eventually the colony shifted its population to the western side, displacing the original inhabitants, some moving on voluntarily, and others being evicted by the Hawaiian government to make room for the growing colony.

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I pondered the story of the Kalaupapa Peninsula as we stood overlooking her neat, trim village from the high cliffs that isolate this area from the rest of the island. We had driven north along route 470, which ends at the Palaau State Park. A short path leading through tall forest leads to the Kalaupapa Lookout, with a panoramic view of the peninsula, the lush, magnificently rugged northern coast, and the deep blue of the open ocean.

“Splendid isolation!” I thought to myself as I gazed down on the tranquil little village below.

It was, of course, this same “splendid isolation” that convinced King Kamehameha V to use the peninsula as a dumping ground for those afflicted with Hansen’s disease. A spot of anguished desolation for so many.

I stood high above, at the end of the road, looking down, bemused at my earlier naiveté. I had originally thought that I would simply drive our old, nicely-rusted Toyota down into the Peninsula for a closer examination of the village.

But that wouldn’t have made it so splendidly isolated, now would it?

Access to the village is restricted to guests of residents, or those on an official tour of the peninsula. You must be at least sixteen years old to participate in one of the tours, and is not advised for those not in good health. Tours consist of a five mile mule-train ride down the steep and twisting path into the village. The trail is also available to hikers, who should expect to spend a full day hiking in and out of the peninsula. Air charters are available into the peninsula, and must be arranged with an official tour guide.

The Department of Health still has jurisdiction over the peninsula, but forced isolation of the residents of the village was abolished in1969, much later than I would have expected. Especially since Hansen’s Disease has been easily curable since the 1940’s. Among communicable diseases, Hansen’s disease is actually one of the least contagious. While no new patients have been allowed to reside here, the remaining patients, though free to leave at any time, choose to live their lives in the quiet village they call home.

After reading the signs at the outlook telling the story of the peninsula below, we ventured beyond the railed area onto a faintly visible trail leading into the surrounding forest. A thick growth of leafless trees, maybe twenty or thirty feet high, their bare branches silhouetted against the gray sky, gave the forest an enchanted quality...

To add to the slightly haunting feeling of enchantment, Jayne came upon a small clearing along the cliffs edge. In the center of the clearing stood an old tree with small bits of knotted muslin hanging from her branches, apparently decorated in some fashion. This spot was obviously visited, how often and regularly was hard to tell. Perhaps the site possessed mystical qualities for the natives of this island. It certainly had an eerie quality to us as we stood and pondered the meaning of this oddly decorated tree.

At the cliffs edge, I looked down onto fifteen hundred feet of vertigo-inducing sheer drop. I got as close as I dared and snapped a few pictures. Below me the sea crashed into the shear rock wall of the north coast. I looked on worriedly as Jayne did the same…

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For a thousand years, native Hawaiians have lived a quiet, peaceful life on this little peninsula, living off the bounty of nature. Giving way to misery and disease, it was men like Father Damien that eventually brought back one of the most enduring qualities of this land…

Splendid Isolation.

About the Author:

Thomas Schueneman may be contacted at www.touristtravel.com or by email at tom@touristtravel.com. Tom lives in San Francisco and works as a sound engineer, freelance writer, and entrepreneur. He enjoys traveling, nature, reading, photography, and music.