Kalaupapa Memories

When I told mom that I had written about her father on my blog she was very happy because she said he was not given the credit he truly deserved.  Apparently a later priest recorded that the Americans of Japanese Ancestry Hall in Kalaupapa had been built by the Buddhist headquarters.  He neglected to mention who spearheaded the project.  As for my grandfather, he didn't care.  It wasn't important.  But it was important to my grandmother who dearly loved her husband.

Grandmother told mom that she needed to correct this in Hawaii.  Well...Mom really didn't want to make a fuss.  She was embarrassed and told her mother that it wasn't necessary.  My grandmother, however, was not at all pleased.

Mom says that my putting the truth out on record into cyberspace must be making my grandmother smile.

I'm recording the following from my mother's memories and the memoir her mother wrote.

My grandparents arrived in Kaunakakai, Molokai in 1928.  

They began a Japanese language school along with his duties as the new Zen Buddhist priest at the Rokuonzan Guzeiji Temple in Kaunakakai which is the largest town on Molokai.

Soon after, he went to visit the Hansen's Disease (leprosy) colony in Kalaupapa where there were 47 Japanese victims.

When he arrived there, grandfather was startled to be met by patients so grateful to have a priest of their own religion that they burst into tears.

He quickly learned that the patients were missing the foods they were familiar with so grandfather went back to Kaunakakai and got his congregation to put together food donations of things like mochi and tofu to bring down every month.  Three men went down into the Kalaupapa peninsula with him to help carry the food.

They also wanted to see Japanese movies so grandfather went to Honolulu to pick up silent films to bring back to Kalaupapa.  Since they were silent movies, grandfather apparently did the speaking parts. 

The patients then told grandfather that they would dearly love a Clubhouse of their own.  It would have been nice if they could have joined the other patients helped by Christian priests but this was 1928.  They probably couldn't speak much English and their culture/religion were very different.

Grandfather went to Honolulu and advertised at the Hawaii Hochi and Hawaii Times, Ltd. Japanese language newspapers.  Many years later when mom went to work at the Hawaii Times, Ltd., the reporters told her that they had a lot of respect for her father.  He had taken the reporter/s down to Kalaupapa to show them what was needed.  Mom said she was always treated kindly because she was her father's daughter.

At the main Zen Soto Mission temple at Nuuanu on Oahu, grandfather met Principal Misawa of the Tsurumi Girls High School from Japan and told him of this project.  Mr. Misawa went back to his high school and his students collected enough money for a famous sculptor named Koun Takamura to carve a beautiful Kannon Buddhist statue for the new building.

One of the 47 Japanese patients at Kalaupapa was a carpenter by trade and soon organized the building of the new Clubhouse. 

It is now called the AJA Hall (Americans of Japanese Ancestry) and is being preserved and used as a bookstore.

The meeting hall/clubhouse served as a movie theater, meeting place, sewing group area, temple, etc.  The Kannon statue and other Buddhist artifacts would bring comfort to the patients.  There grandfather gave sermons and prayed with his Kalaupapa congregation.

It was quite an amazing feeling to imagine my grandfather as a young priest walking about this room. 

This lady manning the bookstore told us that she may know more of the history of the AJA hall.  She has my e-mail.  I hope that some day she'll find something she can share with me.

It's hard to know how accurate history can be.  So much depends on the perspective of the researcher/writer.  I'm recording what my grandmother and mother know as the truth. 

I'm picturing my grandmother's happy smile.  And my grandfather?  I still don't think the recognition for his efforts mattered much to him.  What gave him satisfaction was in helping those who needed it.  In that, I believe he was satisfied.  For me... I'm just content that this legacy can be passed down to my cousins and our children.

Molokai: Day #2 (Part 2)

When we first told mom about doing this trip, she wasn't excited about doing it.  She felt that nothing would be the same or preserved after 75 years.

To our delight, she was able to journey back into the past and see the place that the father she admired and loved worked and did so much good.

We had a bagged lunch at Kalawao which is on the northeast side of the peninsula.  Kalaupapa is on the northwest side.

The views there were absolutely beautiful.  Right below was where patients were initially dropped off.  Sometimes, they had to be forcibly dropped off which was very sad.

We visited Father Damien's St. Philomena Catholic church and found Brother Joseph Dutton's grave site next to it.  He had asked to be buried close by Father Damien.

Our tour guide, Norman told us that only 4-5% of the population is susceptible to Hansen's Disease.  Unfortunately, Father Damien was part of that small minority, and died in 1889 after 16 years at Kalaupapa.  Brother Dutton was able to serve the patients for 44 years without contracting the disease.  My grandfather was there for 8 years and also did not contract Hansen's Disease.  Sadly, the group most susceptible were the Hawaiian people who did not have many of the immunities against diseases foreigners brought in.

Here is my grandfather crouching down next to the man he admired and regarded highly for the work he'd done for the patients for 44 years.

Mom says there was a photo of her father with Brother Dutton that was cherished by the family, but it was lost in their escape during the war.

Brother Dutton died during my grandfather's 2nd or 3rd year at Kalaupapa.

This is the grave yard next to the church.  Father Damien's grave is at the front.

St. Philomena Catholic Church

OK, it's not that I didn't like Lahi Lahi. However, my behind was really protesting getting back in the saddle.  Lahi Lahi on the other hand could not wait to get started.  He was pushing at the ropes to get to the front again... until he remembered that it was going to be UPhill this time.

I almost know the exact moment when he remembered.  Suddenly his steps slowed and he had to be prodded by the mule leaders.  I hated to kick him like they told me to.

 I really sympathized with his plight.  I REALLY don't like climbing UPhill either.  Whereas he pushed to the front of the line when we were going down, he now stopped at almost every switch back.  

When I tried to urge him on, he'd look back at me as if to say, "Are you kidding me?  Couldn't you have lost those 6 pounds before you decided to get on my back?"

Three miles UPhill all the way and Art was still raring to go.  His butt was just fine!

We read that you could mail a coconut anywhere in the U.S. for between $10.00 to $15.00 (postage) so we decided to send one to KC in Chicago.  

The coconut was free.

Can you believe the gas prices on Molokai?

We also found that Molokai has the plastic bag law.  If you plan to go there, bring your own bag.  It was not a problem for us.

And this is where our luck ran out.  Our Island Air flight was 2 hours late!!!  Worse... I had to sit on hard metal seats for 3 hours while we waited.  After a stop on Lanai we finally got to bed around midnight.  

And yes!  Here is Art's trophy t-shirt.  In retrospect, Art says I should have gotten one too.  We also brought back Molokai sweet potato chips and a whole lot of wonderful memories.

And mom?  She's thrilled and could hardly wait to get home and start writing all about it.

Molokai: Day #2 (Part 1)

It was Wednesday and time for our trip down into Kalaupapa and Kalawao.  I decided to try the mule ride although I did have my misgivings.  Art was determined to hike the 3 mile pali trail.   There are 26 switchbacks on the trail and it has a 1,600 foot elevation.  When I spoke to the Mule Ride company, they said it would be a bit rough for an 83 year old woman.  Therefore Dennis took mom on a very small airplane down to the peninsula.

Buzzy gave us a lesson on how to ride a mule.

Did you know a mule is a cross between a horse and a donkey?  They are supposed to be sure footed.

I think I was one of the few people who had never ridden a mule or a horse.  I've ridden a donkey, but it's much smaller than a mule.

That fellow in the back with the cowboy hat is from Wyoming.  He and his ranching family were here on vacation.  I did notice that I was the only local person in this group.

Buzzy joked that they would match the mules to our faces and we had to remember their names.

My mule's name was Lahi Lahi.  Buzzy said it meant Slim.

The beginning of the trail is easier.

Art had to dodge mule urine and poop.  Eventually the trail got rockier and bumpier... very very bumpy.  I wore my bike pants, but it wasn't padded enough.  I would have preferred a pillow.

All the mules were well trained and Lahi Lahi seemed quite competent.

He had a lot of energy and soon pushed himself to the front just behind this very experienced Wyoming rancher.

The only problem with Lahi Lahi is that...

...he liked to snack!


I hated to keep pulling on the reins to nudge his head away from many of the bushes and clumps of delicious looking grass.

I'm afraid I must not have enough padding on my back side.  I seriously wished I could move my tummy fat to my backside.
Sigh....

All the mules are very well fed and cared for.  I was never afraid during the ride down the cliff.

When we got to the bottom, Art was waiting for me with another hiker who happened to be a doctor who'd studied in Chicago.  What a coincidence!

Dennis and mom had been picked up at the airport so we came together into an old school bus and our tour director, Norman took us around while giving us a history of Kalaupapa.

We told him about mom's dad, and Norman said the community house was still standing and was now a bookstore.  Norman called it a temple, but it was actually a meeting hall that grandfather had fund-raised to build.  My grandfather had also brought special food from Kaunakakai and Japanese language movies that he showed patients using a movie projector.

This is Norman and mom in front of the Americans of Japanese Ancestry Hall. Norman is Roman Catholic but was kind enough to show a lot of enthusiasm for our excitement in finding where the Buddhists were being supported.

This is just a fun, amazing coincidence.  I took this photo from the distant overlook the day before as we were looking down at the peninsula. I blew up the photo today and could see that the Tour Bus had been stopped right in front of the AJA Hall where we would be the following day.

Back on the bus, mom was all smiles.  She couldn't wait to show all the photos to her siblings in Hawaii and in Japan.

Tomorrow's post will be the second half of the day... and back on top of Lahi Lahi.

Molokai: Day #1

My mother has often told my brother and me of her early life on the island of Molokai.  Neither Art, my brother, Dennis nor I had ever been there.

My grandfather was a young Zen Buddhist priest ready to begin his life of service.  He and my grandmother left Japan and went to Molokai to minister to the victims of Hansen's Disease (leprosy) in Kalaupapa in 1928.  Hansen's Disease patients were quarantined to Kalaupapa and Kalawao to live out their lives.

The Christian patients had Father Damien, Brother Dutton, Mother Marianne Cope and other nuns.  Sadly the Buddhist patients didn't have anyone to turn to which is why they recruited grandfather.  Grandfather would spend almost eight years providing supplies such as Japanese foods and getting Japanese movies which he showed them on a projector he manned himself.  He also advertised and got funding to build a community house for those patients.

Father Damien was declared a saint and Marianne Cope is on her way to being declared a saint.  Brother Joseph Dutton was a Civil War veteran who came to help Father Damien but was not a priest and was not part of a particular Christian order.  However, he tended to the patients for 44 years and asked to be buried near Father Damien.

My grandfather worked with Brother Dutton and had a great deal of respect and regard for the bearded gentle man.

Mom spent her first six years in Kaunakakai, but had never been back.  We decided it was time she did.  We went there this past Tuesday.

Here we are in front of the go!, Island Air, Mokulele Airline and Pacific Wings airport area on Oahu.

Island Air has propeller airplanes and looked rather tiny.  However contrary to reputation, it arrived and took off on time.  The flight from Oahu to Molokai is only 20 minutes long.

Molokai only has Alamo Car Rental.  They didn't have the Economy car we reserved so they gave us a van instead along with a $15 discount for our trouble.  Molokai was living up to its name as the Friendly Isle.

After getting a little disoriented at first, we found the Kalaupapa Look out.  The only way to get to that peninsula is by plane, mule or hike.

Dennis and Art took a walk to the sacred phallic rock.

Mom and I sat in the car.

I rather think the rock looks like it must have been carved... but that's my guess.

We had lunch at the Molokai Drive Inn which is supposed to be the oldest eatery on Molokai.  The fried saimin with veggies was pretty darn tasty.  We chuckled to see the list of people posted who had given them bad checks.

Although a new Soto Zen temple was now standing where my grandfather's temple was built in Kaunakakai, mom was able to walk around the area and recall her childhood.  She was surprised at all the houses that were now in the area some 75 years later.

Molokai is supposed to have the longest beach in the Hawaiian Islands.  It was definitely long... and beautiful.

Everybody in Kaunakakai seemed to think Molokai Pizza Cafe was the place to eat.  We decided to give it a try.

Ummmm... As you can see we ordered too much.

How lovely that we all like anchovies.  It was wonderful!

We stayed at Molokai Shores which has rented condo units.

Dennis slept in the loft area.  Mom was in a fold-away bed downstairs, Art and I had the bedroom.

It was nice, though NOT necessarily all that clean or bugless.  It was sufficient.

I got right to sleep, but at 2 AM, some infernal rooster decided to wake everybody up.  I'm surprised somebody hasn't put him in a stew pot.

And so ended our first day on Molokai.

Family History Project: I'm Done!!!

Linda of A Slower Pace asked me how I went about doing my mother's family history. So here goes! I'm sorry. This was going to be short, but this post has grown just as this project did.

I guess I've always felt it would be my job to do this. I am the oldest child of my mother who is also the oldest child. My brother and I have heard her stories as far back as we can remember. I know there was a time well over a half century ago that my mother teetered on the brink of a mental collapse, and that it was only for my brother and me that she marshaled all her strength to make sure our lives would be better.

However, gathering the information for her life history was too difficult. Stories would be told, but my brother and I couldn't understand the how, the where, the why, the when, the who. Then I left for the mainland where we lived for 35 years.

When Art and I moved back to Hawaii, we began to host Cousins Parties. It was at January's party that I asked my mother's sisters if they might have photos from their young lives on Molokai where my zen priest grandfather tended to victims of Hansen's disease (leprosy) at Kalaupapa.

They were happy to share those photos and more that they had not looked at in decades.


These are the newer photos. The older ones from 75+ years ago were not in great shape. The Hawaiian climate is NOT good for photos.


We bought a new scanner and I began the work that would consume me. Incredibly, when combined, there were quite a few photos. The newer scanner could improve the images to a point, but needed my brother, Dennis, the Photoshop magician to restore them to near perfection.


My mother and I worked on organizing and dating the photos on my computer to the best of our abilities. Then I met with both aunts and had them look at each photo. I wrote their impressions and stories onto the summary of each photo file.

You can see my mother corroborating their memories with what their mother wrote in her book that was published in Japan before she passed away.


I wrote the incredible saga of the three sisters' many stories and my son's girlfriend who was a journalist-editor polished it. One of my aunts tells me she's got many more stories to relate. My mother is still trying to forget the pain of them.

It's great that all my mother's brother and sisters are alive to document their experiences. I can't impress upon you enough how important it is to get the stories while everyone is there to tell it. None of Art's immediate uncles and aunts are alive to tell us their stories. We have photos, but the heart of their lives cannot be recorded.


One of the problems was the dates. They were written in Japanese years on the back or front of many of the pictures which is based on the reign of the emperors. I found a great website that gave me the corresponding Christian year to the Japanese emperor years. (Heisei 22 = 2010)


The next step was formatting the photos onto pages with explanations.


I began putting together the family tree after gathering each branch's information through (thank goodness for technology) e-mail. I did the tree lay-out the hard way, cutting and pasting manually which my brother later redid on Photoshop making it look a whole lot more professional. I'm aware that there are loads of family tree web sites, but I couldn't find a template that was useful for me.

I followed Art's suggestion to lay out a time line so we could have a reference for the family's travels from Japan, Molokai, Japan, North Korea, Japan and then back to Hawaii.


Meanwhile, Art was doing a ton of research into all the locations my mother and aunts recalled while they were escaping North Korea and the brutality and cruelty of the first wave of Russian soldiers. My priest grandfather had been sent to a Siberian Prisoner of War camp at the time.

This long ago map Art discovered on Internet really helped us understand the structure of their stories. (The problem was my mother and aunts only knew the Japanese names of occupied North Korea. Therefore we didn't know where they were. This crucial, pre-war map provided us with the where of their stories.) Dennis red inked and labeled their harrowing route on Photoshop.


Finally Art and I printed, copied and bound the pages into albums. Dennis suggested having them printed in a more book-like form, but it was cost prohibitive. There are well over a 100 pages.

In April of this year, we went to Japan and gave my mother's brother and sister their albums. My aunt, in turn gave me MORE photos that my grandmother had kept that we did not know about. I could not believe it! There were two albums of incredible photos that completed the story of that part of their lives.

After returning to Hawaii, we began again at Square #1!


I finished again in September!

Dennis then took the files and put them on DVDs. He's also managed to reduce the file sizes so it wouldn't take too long to load. One of our cousins asked if Dennis would make it playable on their TV so I'm pretty sure he's done that, too. We've also made a public version leaving out actual birth dates because several cousins wanted the option of being able to share the stories without fear of identity theft.

We'll be having a Cousins Party in November and the Addendum (my grandmother's photos) albums will be presented to the aunts in Hawaii. We'll also send albums to the aunt and uncle in Japan. A DVD of both albums combined and reorganized will be given to all the cousins at that time. It's been a journey and could not have been done without a whole lot of help.

But it was worth it!

And I'm glad it's done.

Leprosy, War, Family and Hope

My mother was born on the island of Oahu and lived on Molokai, often known for Kalaupapa where victims of leprosy were forcibly sent in the past to quarantine them. Father Damien was the Christian minister famous for ministering to the dying and then contracting the illness himself. My grandfather, a Buddhist priest went there to help Buddhists who were also dying of the disease.

(This is a photo of my grandfather riding toward Kalaupapa which was situated in a valley to make it difficult for its inhabitants to escape. He's the one without a hat.)

My mother, her two sisters and a brother (who died at 3) were born there and loved the islands but my grandmother was homesick and constantly worried that my grandfather would contract the dreaded disease. After about 8 years, they returned to Japan.

I won't go into the whole history of my mother's life back in Japan and then her family's move to Korea where my grandfather was a minister in a large temple compound. The Japanese were occupying Korea then but I'll stay out of the politics of that situation. The war, my grandfather being sent to Siberia, mom and her family's harrowing trek back to Japan, several times nearly being killed by Russian soldiers, starvation, etc. are all stories my brother and I grew up with.

When they returned to Japan, poverty and starvation threatened. They were forced to live with the support of relatives. At 18, being the eldest, mom was sent to Hawaii to marry so that she could lighten the burden and perhaps help. I can't imagine what that must have been like. Eventually, her two sisters came to Hawaii because they also had their American citizenship and wished to be with their sister.

In Japan, the family survived and eventually did well. My grandfather became a priest to a large prestigious temple. My mother's baby brother became a highly respected judge. The baby sister who remained in Japan is a historian and married to a retired newspaper editor.

I grew up hearing stories of this mythical family but they were really a nebulous sort of connection that was attached to us only by letters that I could not read and packages that contained exotic things.

While in college, I had the opportunity to spend 6 weeks in Japan. Three weeks would be course work and we would have independent travel for the other three. My uncle, so important a High Court judge now was then only a student not a whole lot older than me. He came to pick me up to deliver me to the temple where I lived under the careful supervision of my grandparents, aunt and her newspaper reporter husband. It was an incredible time of discovery and a sort of enlightenment for me.

My mother did not return to Japan until my grandfather who had survived Siberia was on his deathbed. That is another story but hers to tell.

I returned to Japan again with my own family a dozen years ago. I thought then that it was almost like coming full circle but now I see that it wasn't so. I remember my aunt telling me before I left Japan with my beautiful family that she wanted me to understand what a wonderful husband I had... that I should know that they were very happy for me. I remembered then that I had been suffering a bit of romantic angst when I was there the first time.

So now Art and I return again, but this time with my brother and mother. It will be my brother's first time. He will now see with his own eyes what I have seen and feel what I felt. My mother will be able to share all the history she has held inside her all these years. Now, perhaps, this is full circle.