In Their Own Words: "tour" Kalaupapa National Historical Park by listening to a collection of first hand accounts

Maʻi hoʻokaʻawale - The Separating Sickness

The story of Kalaupapa is a complicated story of loss and exile, but also a testament to the resilience of humanity and the people isolated here.

It is a story that allows us to reflect on our own humanity, to question what sacrifices are necessary to protect a society, and what does it mean to provide a life with dignity.

It is a story made up of the 8,000 different lives of the patients sent to Kalaupapa. 

And it is a story best told through the voices of the patients that lived it.  

Experience journeying to Kalaupapa National Historical Park with a series of recorded audio clips (read by National Park Service staff) and historic images of patients who spent their lives in this sacred place.

Originally designed to be listened to as you hike down the Pali Trail and into the Settlement, we thought you would still gain knowledge, perspective, understanding, and compassion by taking this audio "tour."

Am I bitter that I contacted leprosy? No, I'm not bitter. I hold no grudges. It just happened. Just bad luck. We had no choice coming here, you know. They took us away to Kalaupapa fast. I was only seven, and I did not know what was happening.

—Unidentified patient 50 years at Kalaupapa

Image credit: NPS Photo/Kalaupapa National Historical Park Collection

• Patient 50 Years at Kalaupapa

  
  

  This recording is a recreation of an interview recounted in "The Separating Sickness" by Ted Gugelyk and Milton Bloombaum. Narration by M. Kahee.
  Audio Transcript

  Am I bitter that I contacted leprosy? No, I'm not bitter. I hold no grudges. It just happened. Just bad luck. We had no choice coming here, you know. They took us away to Kalaupapa fast. I was only seven, and I did not know what was happening. They came to get me at school. I think the teacher reported me to the Board of Health. They used to get ten dollars for each leprosy person they reported. First I went to Kalihi, then they sent me here. Oh, I missed my mommy. She came a few times to see me, but then pau, no more. She had other kids. I think they kind of forgot about me, but I got used to it. My parents make now, they are dead. I don't know where my brothers and sisters are. It all happened a long time ago. That's how it is. Who can you blame? You just thank God for what you have. 

Enacting Law

The exact date that Hansen’s disease (then called “leprosy”) arrived in Hawaiʻi is unknown, but descriptions of the illness begin to appear in the 1830s.

It came alongside waves of other infectious diseases: syphilis, cholera, tuberculosis, influenza, and measles, that devastated the Hawaiian population.

By the 1840s, the Native Hawaiian population had declined by about 84% from what it was in 1778 when the first foreigners arrived to the islands.

As a desperate act to save his people, King Kamehameha V approved the "An Act to Prevent the Spread of Leprosy. ” in 1865. Read the whole act here: "An Act to Prevent the Spread of Leprosy"

Listen to a portion of the act below and pay attention to what authorities it gave government. 

SEC. 3. The Board of Health or its agents are authorized and empowered to cause to be confined, in some place or places for that purpose provided, all leprous patients who shall be deemed capable of spreading the disease of leprosy...

—An Act to Prevent the Spead of Leprosy

Image credit: Hawaiʻi State Archives

• An Act to Prevent the Spread of Leprosy

  
  

  This is a recording of a section of "An Act to Prevent the Spead of Leprosy" a 1865 legislative act which set apart land to isolate people believed capable of spreading the disease. Narration by R. Gomulak.
  Audio Transcript

  SEC. 3. The Board of Health or its agents are authorized and empowered to cause to be confined, in some place or places for that purpose provided, all leprous patients who shall be deemed capable of spreading the disease of leprosy, and it shall be the duty of every police or District Justice, when properly applied to for that purpose by the Board of Health, or its authorized agents, to cause to be arrested and delivered to the Board of Health or its agents, any person alleged to be a leper, within the jurisdiction of such police or District Justice, and it shall be the duty of the Marshal of the Hawaiian Islands and his deputies, and of the police offers, to assist in securing the conveyance of any person so arrested to such place, as the Board of Health, or its agents may direct, in order that such person may be subjected to medical inspection, and thereafter to assist in removing such person to place of treatment or isolation, if so required, by the agents of the Board of Health.

Early Years of Exile

The experience of being sent to Kalaupapa was never easy, but life on the peninsula was especially challenging for early patients.

The first 12 patients that arrived in January of 1866 were provided with very little to survive, and within the first year, 4 of the 12 patients passed away. 

The first patients were forced to build their own shelters - find their own food, and survive with little support - many died quickly, but those who survived began to create a community.

Listen to this account from Ambrose Huttchinson (sent to Kalaupapa in 1879) to gain an understanding of the fear and uncertainty that patients faced.

Huttchinson was later appointed resident Superintendent of Kalaupapa and worked alongside Father Damien to improve the living conditions at Kalaupapa.

NPS Photo/Kalaupapa National Historical Park Collection

• Ambrose K. Hutchison

  
  

  Ambrose K. Hutchison, resident of Kalaupapa from 1879-1932. This recording is a recreation of accounts shared in Hutchinson's memoir. Narration by M. Padgett.
  Audio Transcript

  On the night of the 4th day of January 1879 about seven p.m. I with 11 other fellow sufferers were lined up in two by two file by our jailer (each of us carrying our own baggage) guarded on each side by a squad of policemen were taken from the leper detention station...and put aboard the SS Mokolii lying along side the pier at the foot of Fort Street. After a half-hour wait for two Government Officials, Sam G. Wilder President of the Board of Health and Dr. N.B. Emerson newly appointed first resident physician of the Leper Settlement of Kalawao. When they arrived and came aboard the steamer the line was cast off, the steamer moved out into the harbor and steamed out to sea bound for Molokai and arrived off Kalaupapa the next morning 7 a.m. when the steamer anchored we entered a row boat with the two officials and rowed to the Kalaupapa landing and put ashore and [were] received by the local officials of the Leper Settlement. After our names, ages and places we hailed from were taken down, left on the rocky shore without food and shelter. No houses provided by the then Government for the like of us outcasts.

Kaluapapa Through the Years

For many of the 8,000 patients that were forcibly sent to Kalaupapa, their experience with Hansen's disease was an experience of separation; separation from family, from friends, from loved ones, and from the communities that they live in. 

The disease took on the name Ma'i Ho'oka'awale “separating sickness.” 

Listen to following stories to learn about the ways patients faced separation. 

Yes, I am disabled. My handicap is nerve damage. My fingers are crabbed up…and I live in a wheelchair…My philosophy of life is simple. It is to smile at people. I smile, they look puzzled, then smile back. It works, you know. I try to be happy, and make other people happy in some small way.

—61 year old Portuguese woman who came to Kalaupapa at the age of 19

Image credit: NPS Photo/Kalaupapa National Historical Park Collection

• Portuguese Woman Who Arrived in Kalaupapa at 19

  
  

  A 61 year old Portuguese woman who came to Kalaupapa at the age of 19. This recording is a recreation of an interview recounted in "The Separating Sickness" by Ted Gugelyk and Milton Bloombaum. Narration by M. Kahee.
  Audio Transcript

  Yes, I am disabled. My handicap is nerve damage. My fingers are crabbed up…and I live in a wheelchair…My philosophy of life is simple. It is to smile at people. I smile, they look puzzled, then smile back. It works, you know. I try to be happy, and make other people happy in some small way. 

  Nothing will convince me to leave Kalaupapa. Now I can leave to visit my children whenever I want. But I am resigned to this place as my final home. We all make the best of our lives here. This is it for us. This is the end of our fight. You know how it is . First, you catch the disease. You want to remain home with your parents, and they also love you and want you home. You fight against the isolation. I didn't want to believe my fate. So you fight it, you don't want to accept it. You fight yourself, the disease, the other patients, the Board of Health.  Then finally, you give up, and find yourself. After being sent to Kalaupapa, we find love, we get married, even have children. All inside this place... 

  Overall, when I look back over my life, I have been lucky. My family never rejected me. And I found a wonderful husband. We had a good life together. I am still close to my family, and to my children. You know, my children were born inside, but my family hanai them. So I see my children, and my grandchildren. I am lucky! 

Lost Connections

For some patients a cure did not always mean reconnection with loved ones.

The fear and shame associated with Hansen’s disease caused some families to completely sever ties with their loved one.

While this disownment may seem unfathomable, it shows how palpabe the fear around this disease was at the time. 

Many families faced the threat of job loss and social ostracization for having connections to patients sent to Kalaupapa.

As a result, letters went unanswered, visitors never came, and family members were cut out of photographs.  

Kalaupapa National Historical Park Collection

• Hawaiian Woman: Arrived in Kalaupapa in 1936

  
  

  Hawaiian woman, aged 70 who arrived in Kalaupapa in 1936. This recording is a recreation of an interview recounted in "The Separating Sickness" by Ted Gugelyk and Milton Bloombaum. Narration by R. Key.
  Audio Transcript

  I was born on Maui, in the little community of Hana. I was twenty-seven when my mother noticed red spots on my body. I was married; I had two children. My family sent me to the doctor in Wailuku to look at the spots. Right away he knew. He said, if you go to Kalihi Hospital in Honolulu, they will cure you in three months. He promised me a cure for this disease. But my mother knew of this illness, and after the doctor examined me, she looked at me with sad eyes. She said, you have the ma'i ho’oka’awale (the separating sickness). I think she knew I had the sickness before I went to see the doctor. 

  My mother did not want me to go to Kalihi Hospital. She knew more about the sickness than I did. Maybe she knew I would not be cured. So, she suggested I not show myself to anybody. She said 'go hide. Hide inside the house. When someone comes to the house, run out the back door into the bushes on the mountain side.' And I did that for three months. I went into hiding and the Health Department inspector did not find me. But, I had a husband and two children. There was so much crying over me, and I began to tire of the hiding life. I thought, I will try the cure. Maybe in three months I will get well. After all, the doctor promised. So, I left for Honolulu. My family told our neighbors I was going to visit relatives. 

  When I arrived at Kalihi Hospital right away they put me into isolation on the women's side of the place. The next day they gave me a physical examination. My body was covered with red lesions--round rings with lumpy spots in the center, bumpy little spots. The doctors gathered around me while a stood there naked in the white tile room. I was cold, and I only had a sheet around me. The doctors would give me the treatment. In those days, the only treatment was chaulmoogra oil. After three months, the chaulmoogra oil helped me. The red spots went down, but I never went home again. Even though the spots went down, they would not release me. Since they would not let me out of Kalihi and because they were so strict there, I volunteered to go to Kalaupapa where there was more freedom. I found a new life at Kalaupapa, and my old life broke apart. 

  I remained in Kalaupapa for thirty years. I was finally paroled in 1966. My mother was still alive, so I wrote to her and told her I was finally cured. I could come home. After a long while, her letter came. She said, 'Don't come home. You stay at Kalaupapa.' I wrote her back and said I wanted just to visit, to see the place where I was born. Again, she wrote back. This time she said, 'No, you stay there.' You see, my mother had many friends and I think she felt shame before them. I was disfigured, even though I was cured. So, she told me, her daughter, 'Don't come home'. She said 'You stay right where you are. Stay there, and leave your bones at Kalaupapa.' I don't blame her. I am more happy at Kalaupapa. This place is finally my real home. They take good care of me here. 

  I don't feel bad. I love this place now. These are my people. We are all together and we feel pity and love for one another. We try to help one another. I won't leave this place, because now I know people are still scared of this disease. As long as you are a leper, that's all, they still fear you. Chinese are most scared of this sickness, but Hawaiians are scared too. 

  The worst thing about having this sickness is having it. There is nothing good about it. I am no match for those outside people anymore. I am embarrassed by my scars. I am not fit to live with others. If they try to force us to leave Kalaupapa, I will commit suicide...So I will stay here. Like my mother said, I will leave my bones at Kalaupapa. 

They caught me when I was eighteen or nineteen. The Board of Health gave the neighbors ten dollars for reporting me. That was the policy in those days. One evening the Health Department inspector came to our house to examine me and pick me up. He said I had to go with him to Honolulu. If I said no, he would put me in handcuffs and drag me off.

—69-year-old Hawaiian woman who arrived at Kalaupapa at 19 years old in 1928

Image credit: Kalaupapa National Historical Park Collection

• Hawaiian Woman: Arrived in Kalaupapa at 19 Years Old in 1928

  
  

  A 69-year-old Hawaiian woman who arrived at Kalaupapa at 19 years old in 1928 shares her experience. Interview from "The Separating Sickness" by Ted Gugelyk and Milton Bloombaum. Narration by J. Sanchez-Espaniola.
  Audio Transcript

   They caught me when I was eighteen or nineteen. The Board of Health gave the neighbors ten dollars for reporting me. That was the policy in those days. One evening the Health Department inspector came to our house to examine me and pick me up. He said I had to go with him to Honolulu. If I said no, he would put me in handcuffs and drag me off. They threatened us that way. But I did not want to go, because I had this little boy who was my hanai [adopted] boy. I loved him so much. But they said I would give him the sickness--mai Pake to the little boy--so for his own good, I went. They took me from [my home] to Mahu-Kona, then to Kalihi Hospital in Honolulu. I was put on the ship Kaala. The same ship that later sank on the reef off Kalaupapa. 

  At Kalihi they kept us separated. Boys on one side, girls on the other. The next morning, I had my physical examination. I went into a room where six doctors waited. I was naked except for one white sheet they wrapped around me. Those doctors examined me, looked at the spots on my body. They talked among themselves for a few minutes, then they said I should return to the girls' ward. In a few days I received a large envelope with a letter in it. The letter had my name on it, and it said, 'You have been declared a leper.' So I was sent to Kalaupapa. I wish I still had that letter. I would show it to you, but it was lost in the tidal wave that hit Kalaupapa in 1946. 

  After that, I hate to tell you this, my family hookai (rejected) me. All of my relatives hookai me. They were sad and disappointed in me for getting this sickness, and after I got it they did not want me anymore. That's what the mai Pake sickness does. It hookai you from your loved ones. The name of leprosy is a fearful thing, they fear this disease. That's why they hookai me (separated me). 

  You know when I was a little girl…I saw this one sick man who lived like a dog. He lived in a shack. It looked like a dog house. At that time I didn't know it, but he was a man with leprosy. He lived in a lean-to, a little dirty place with a roof made of old boards. There were three sides to his shack, with one part open to the wind and rain. It was tacked on to the side of his family's house. His family lived in the big house and he lived in the dirty shack. He always stayed in that little place. He would hardly ever come out. He would just stay in there dirty and huddled up. When he wanted to eat, they would make him feed himself. He had to cook his own food. He had his own dish and fork. He could only eat after others finished eating. They did not let him touch anything of theirs. Sometimes they would allow him to use the kitchen stove to cook his food. But his family did not take care of him, and I used to watch him when I was a little girl. He was hookai too, just like I am now. Yes, I remember that poor man sleeping outside, all disfigured and twisted. I was just a little girl, and I did not know he had the leprosy sickness and that later I would get the same thing. I can say today, and I am ashamed to say it; but my family was no better than his. 

  After I was discharged, paroled, or declared negative, I could have returned home. But my family asked me not to return home. They said not to come around. Do not try and live with the family. You know, when we die, our families will come to Kalaupapa and ask to see our graves. They also want to see our wills, but they will be surprised. I have no money. 

  Today, living on the outside, it's not so bad. But because of what happened to me with my family and friends, I don't feel comfortable outside. I have my own home here. This is where I will stay.

Children; a Blessing and a Curse

Despite separation patients faced when they were sent to Kalaupapa, a new community flourished where strong relationships and friendships were formed.

Like in any community people met, they fell in love, got married, and had children.

However, separation would shape that part of life in Kalaupapa as well. 

Even though Hansen's disease does not pass from a mother to her child during pregnancy, there was fear that the disease would pass onto the child.

This last story shares the heartbreaking experience of a patient having their children, born in Kalaupapa, taken from them. 

Children born in Kalaupapa would remain in the settlement one year after which they were put up for adoption, sometimes by family members of the patient, but in other instances the connection to Kalaupapa was hidden and the relationship between parent and child lost. 

"Prize of Kalaupapa"

Kalaupapa National Historical Park Collection

• Hawaiian Man Arrived at Kalaupapa in 1947 at 14

  
  

  81-year-old Hawaiian man who arrived at Kalaupapa in 1947 at the age of 14. This recording is a recreation of an interview recounted in "The Separating Sickness" by Ted Gugelyk and Milton Bloombaum. Narration by A. Espaniola.
  Audio Transcript

  The worst thing about being in here is missing my children. I have twelve children and they were all born inside. Nine of my children lived. I delivered all of my own babies. They were all born inside Kalaupapa. Twelve children I delivered. The first few times, the midwife showed me how to do it. With the other nine, I delivered them myself. 

  You know, the babies that were born inside here were not allowed to stay with their parents. After the babies were born, the law said they had to be taken away to the baby nursery in Kalaupapa. They were afraid of the contact--afraid the babies would catch the disease from their parents. But some of my children, I will tell you this, some of them I kept longer. Most times, the babies were born in the night. We kept everyone quiet so the administrators and nurses would not hear the baby being born. All my babies were born in my own home, right here. After I delivered the babies, we were so happy. I called the young girl patients and they would come running in the night to look at the newborn one. Everyone was so happy to see baby children. And us, we were so proud of our new babies, we had so much love. My babies stayed with me that way, longer than the law said they could. But my children never caught the sickness. We would try to keep the babies as long as we could, but most times, we kept them only until morning. Then we would carry them to the nursery. I didn't want any trouble with the administrators, or with the Board of Health. So we gave them up. That was the law. They allowed the children to live one year inside Kalaupapa nursery. There we could see them only through thick glass, but no can touch! Then after one year, they were removed. They were either hanai by family members or 'issued' out for adoption by the Board of Health. 

  It was so hard to give up your children like that, especially to the Board of Health. Seven boys and five girls we had. But three boys died in the nursery. They never took good care of them, yet they would not let us care for our own children, even when we knew they were sick. It was hard. You love them, and then they are taken away, just like we were taken away. But the children would never know us as parents.

Leaving Kaluapapa

After years of struggle, separation, and loss, hope finally came in the form of a cure.

In 1946 the introduction of sulfone drugs changed the physical lives of the people of Kalaupapa, but it wasn’t until 1969 that the separation ban was lifted and patients were free to come and go from Kalaupapa.  

The stories shared above are just a handful of experiences from the 8,000 patients who were exiled to Kalaupapa.

Today Kalaupapa stands as memorial to the loss and exile, but also a testament to the resilience of humanity and the people isolated here.

While the outside world rejected them, here, the people found family - others like them - bonded by life experience.

Although Maʻi Pākē (Hansen’s Disease) took away something precious from the patients sent to Kalaupapa, it may have also given something back.

That of a final home, a place of belonging, to community, extended family, and the land.

A place of peace and care earned after a lifetime of banishment and ostracism.

Trailhead at top of the Pali Trail; besides flying or boat, the only way to enter Kalaupapa Settlement.

NPS Photo/Kalaupapa National Historical Park Collection

More On Park Website

Continue your journey by reading more "In Their Own Words" on the park website.

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