MOLOKAI, THE LEPER ISLAND
In telling of Molokai, the Leper Island, I might as well confess at
the outset that I was never on it. But Jack London was, and
everything here set forth was gotten direct from him or from others
who had intimate knowledge whereof they spoke. Not many persons,
outside the officials of the Board of Health, have ever been allowed
to leave the island of Molokai, once they had entered the
Settlement. Dr. Pinkham, president of the Board of Health, who has
the entire managing of the island, was an ardent admirer of the
literary works of Jack London; and he so managed it that both the
Londons were allowed to visit Molokai, in order that Mr. London
might properly describe the life on this island, and thus correct
the Kanaka notion that Molokai is a place of torture. Dr. Pinkham's
decision was a wise one. Much has been written in the past of the
horrors of the Leper Settlement, but almost without exception these
expositions have been wild and lurid--as London put it, the work of
sensationalists, most of whom had never laid eyes on a single one of
the things they described in such exaggerated and undependable
detail. But there are a great many persons among English-speaking
peoples who have learned that Jack London always tells the truth as
he sees it. Dr. Pinkham knew that if London were to go to the
Settlement, his account of it would present conditions as they
actually are, not as they are shown to be in the distorted articles
of the yellow press. And so, permission was granted.
But when I tried to follow, the doctor, though my very good friend,
stopped me. He could not take me to the island of Molokai, because
he had no excuse for doing so. I was not a noted writer--I was
merely a sightseer; and to take a sightseer to Molokai would have
lost him his position. For that matter, the Hawaiian citizens and
the Honolulu press did criticise him severely for taking Mr. and
Mrs. London to the island.
But while I have never seen the lepers in their Settlement, I have
seen hundreds of cases of leprosy all through the South Seas.
Furthermore, I have discussed the disease and the managing of
Molokai with Dr. Pinkham, than whom surely there could be no better
source of information. Leprosy was a constant topic of conversation,
morning, noon, and night, with the little crew of voyageurs on the
_Snark_; we were all deeply interested; and of this, as of every
other island subject, Jack London had almost encyclopædic knowledge.
In fact, leprosy was his hobby; he was an untiring defender of
segregation. What of my own experiences, and the memory of other
men's experiences, and what of all that Jack London told me at this
time, there has been bred in me a profound conviction that my own
knowledge of leprosy is considerable--certainly greater than that of
many who live all their lives within a stone's throw of Molokai. In
the very nature of the thing, I was bound to learn, and learn more
than could any ordinary tourist, even though my actual observation
might not extend quite so far as did the observation of the
specialists, the members of the Board of Health, the executives, and
those visitors, few in number, who have had the privilege of setting
foot within the Leper Settlement.
And so, at the beginning, let me add my testimony to that of Jack
London, in saying that the horrors with which Molokai is associated
in the average mind, _simply do not exist_. The sensationalists have
done their work well. To the four corners of the earth they have
disseminated their ghastly fictions, with a persistency truly
wonderful; and the people of every nation, hungry for things that
are gruesome, have pounced greedily on all that was offered. As a
result, their minds are full-fed with every variety of deceit, from
mere harmless fables to the most inexcusable lies, and to such an
extent that the truth, even when shown to them, may find little room
for lodgment. Nevertheless, I am optimistic enough to hope that a
pinch of real fact may leaven a mountain of misrepresentation, and
that, in time, the people of every civilised country will come to
know just what sort of place Molokai is, and just what things take
place there.
It is strange that the greatest misapprehension exists among the
people of Hawaii. Living next door, as it were, to the segregated
unfortunates, many of whom have been recruited from their own ranks,
it might be supposed that they would be the very first to disburden
their minds of delusion. Not so. In the city of Honolulu, there are
many who still credit the idea that Molokai is the place of
life-long confinement, inhuman torture, and melancholy death. The
word "Molokai" spells for them nothing but the most unmerciful
disaster. The very name is enough to send the hot blood rushing to
the heart, and to strike laughter from the lips. Truly, to their
unhappy conception, Molokai is but the valley of the shadows,
wherein shines never a ray of light to brighten the path of him who
must tread its sombre way.
Much of this sentiment is due to demagogues, who stir the people
constantly with their recital of the lepers' wrongs. Indignation
often runs high when some particularly outrageous abuse is
instanced. The natives are almost inconceivably credulous, and,
unfortunately, they will not take the trouble to test the truth of
demagogic assertion. However, a campaign of education has been
begun; persons long resident in the Leper Settlement have been shown
by the bacteriological test to be free from the imputed disease;
and, returned to friends and families, they shatter by direct
evidence the absurd fancies theretofore current. More and more the
value and necessity of segregation is being impressed upon the
Hawaiian natives' minds.
Jack and Mrs. London were at Molokai a week; they spent the Fourth
of July there. I went with them down to the wharf to catch the
leper-steamer, which makes weekly trips. It is almost always sure of
at least one passenger, from the receiving station at Kalihi, where
suspects are put through the bacteriological examination; and of
course Superintendent McVeigh is usually on board, to take charge of
the lepers and see them safely to the island.
A number of new lepers were to go that day, and the wharf was
crowded with friends and relatives, come down to say the good-byes
and to see the poor patients off. It was not a happy sight. I shall
never forget it. Such stormy scenes of grief are terrible. Men and
women and children were there; and on the faces of those who were to
stay was great sadness, on the faces of those who were to go sadness
and something more: a sick look, a lurking dread in their eyes, a
pallor not natural to human flesh. As the time drew near for
departure, a sudden stir came over the crowd; grief grew more
vociferous. The babel of voices, hitherto somewhat subdued, rose
first to a hum and then into a sharp murmur. Somewhere a rich native
voice, low-pitched and beautiful, began softly singing the song of
farewell. _Aloha oe_--_aloha oe_, was the refrain. Wheresoever the
departing lepers might roam, through all their days of enforced
segregation from those who loved them and whom they loved, affection
and best wishes would be with them.
Then came the bustle of going aboard; last handclasps; tears; voices
that shook with emotion; and though the sad hearts could not be seen
nor heard, their beat somehow found its way into the scene; misery
bound the many hearts into one, and their pulse was united by some
mighty bond of sympathy. A harsh cry from the steamer now stirred
everyone into action; the lepers broke sorrowfully away from their
friends and families, whose grief burst out anew, and hurried
aboard. Such was the parting--not a happy thing to see, not a thing
one can forget.
At this point I was compelled to go back to the _Snark_, leaving Mr.
and Mrs. London to make the trip to Molokai on the leper-boat. Two
hours must elapse ere their arrival. Jack carried with him his
camera, and took a number of unique and interesting pictures of the
island and its inhabitants. Some of these pictures are here
reproduced.
As the leper-boat approached the island, he secured some good views
of its rocky coast. Owing to the fact that there is no anchorage
close up, the leper-steamer must stand on and off a half-mile from
shore, and the landing is made by shooting the surf, through a very
dangerous passage, to a little wharf that extends about two hundred
feet out into the channel. As they came near, a sound of music
floated to them over the water. The return of Superintendent McVeigh
is always considered an occasion for rejoicing, among the lepers. A
number of the leper men and women, gathered on the beach, play
stringed instruments and sing happy songs to make the arrival of the
new lepers as pleasant as possible.
[Illustration: MOLOKAI, THE LEPER SETTLEMENT, HAWAIIAN ISLANDS]
Jack told me afterward that it was much different from what he had
expected. He, too, had fed his mind on the writings of the
sensationalists. Once he had read an account which told of
Superintendent McVeigh (his host on this occasion) crouching in a
grass hut and surrounded by lepers wailing through the night for
food, which the cruel superintendent withheld. The funny part of it,
Jack explained, was that Superintendent McVeigh's house was not of
grass, but of wood, and the lepers, well-fed and comfortable, did no
wailing at all, but were remarkably happy and contented folk,
following their various chosen pursuits by day, or loafing if they
desired, and filling the night with the melodious music of their
_ukeleles_, banjos, guitars, violins, and other stringed
instruments, to say nothing of beautiful songs sung by the singing
societies. And another thing: when we were sailing along the
windward side of Molokai on the _Snark_, Jack had pointed to the
island, and said it was the pit of hell, the most cursed place on
earth. But he never spoke so after his visit. His eyes were opened.
The Leper Settlement is divided into two main villages. These are on
a peninsula extending from the north side of the island. To left,
right, and front is the water. At the back towers the giant wall of
the _pali_, varying from two to four thousand feet in height.
Besides the villages, there are a good many seaside and country
homes. Many of the lepers are well-to-do, owning horses,
fishing-boats, buggies, carts, and other property. One woman is said
to have several good houses, which she rents.
In all, I believe there are over eight hundred souls on the island.
The population is a mixed one. Dr. Pinkham told me that most of the
lepers are Hawaiians, or part-Hawaiians; next in number come the
Japanese; and the Chinese are third. (It is thought that the Chinese
imported the disease into Hawaii.) There were also three negroes, a
few Portuguese, a Norwegian, and about seven Americans. Americans,
however, seldom catch the disease, and then almost always by
inoculation. Jack met several of the American lepers; he afterward
mentioned a Major Lee, once a marine engineer for the Inter Island
Steamship Company, and then working in the new steam laundry of
Molokai; Mr. Bartlett, formerly in business in Honolulu, now keeper
of the Board of Health store; and another, whose name I have
forgotten, but who was a veteran of the Civil War--a crack shot--and
at that time in his sixty-fifth year. Then there are the non-lepers.
Of these are the _kokuas_, or native helpers, and the priests;
Protestant ministers and their wives; the resident physicians, Dr.
Goodhue and Dr. Hollman; the Franciscan Sisters at Bishop House, and
their Jap servants; two principals and four Brothers at Baldwin
House, and several domestics. Superintendent McVeigh's assistant,
Mr. Waiamau, is a pure Hawaiian, himself stricken with leprosy.
In the two villages there are churches and assembly halls. Yellow
writers to the contrary, there is not a grass house in the
Settlement. The buildings are of wood and stone, and are very
comfortable. There are stores for such as care to engage in
business. Some of the lepers fish, others farm; there are splendid
grassy pastures for the horses, which roam by hundreds in the
mountains. The lepers have their fishing-boats and a steam launch.
Again, there are painters and carpenters. Almost every trade is
followed--even stock-raising and dairying are carried on. There are
artisans of every variety. In such a large gathering of men and
women and children, there is of course great diversity of taste and
ability. Usually, those who have been actively engaged before coming
to Molokai prefer to follow the same pursuits after their arrival.
But let it be emphasised that not one of these people needs work
unless he elects to do so. Being wards of the Territory of Hawaii,
all things necessary to life and comfort are supplied to them free.
If, by their own efforts, they are able to make a few dollars, they
are just that much ahead of the game. Lepers who live outside the
two villages draw from the government a fixed amount of money as a
"clothes ration order," in addition to a weekly allowance in
provisions. Of course, many of the lepers have property elsewhere,
from which they derive an income; and some of them are looked after
by friends.
There are over seven hundred buildings in the Settlement. Among them
are the six churches: two Protestant, two Mormon, and two Catholic.
The Young Men's Christian Association building is particularly good.
The lepers even have an electric plant, and a _poi_ factory, to say
nothing of a courthouse and jail.
Social life is brisk on Molokai. An athletic club has been founded;
also glee clubs. Weekly band concerts are given in the pavilion. On
the afternoon of the Fourth of July, Jack and Mrs. London had the
pleasure of seeing a merry parade, and were appointed the judges at
a horse-race. On the morning after their arrival, they attended a
shoot of the Kaluapapa Rifle Club. On the day the Londons climbed
the two-thousand-foot _pali_ and looked their last upon the
Settlement, an exciting baseball game, played by the doctors, the
lepers and the non-lepers, was in progress, on a very good baseball
diamond. There are even visitors' houses, kept clean of disease,
where, at certain intervals, the lepers may meet such of their
friends, relatives, or business agents, as come to see them. And
when one adds to all this the consideration that Molokai enjoys a
better climate than even Honolulu, it will be seen that the Leper
Settlement cannot be such a very terrible place after all.
After the Londons returned to Honolulu, many persons expressed
amazement at their temerity in venturing wilfully among the
afflicted of Molokai. They had not even held aloof from the lepers,
nor worn long gloves; instead they had shaken hands with scores of
them. To such of the staid people of Honolulu as still clung to
their chamber-of-horrors notion, the act was the very height of
foolhardiness. It was inconceivable. But among the more intelligent
Hawaiians, no such horror of leprosy obtains. They realise how
feebly contagious it is. In the Settlement, lepers and non-lepers
mingle freely; at a shoot of the Kalaupapa Rifle Club, the same guns
are used by those afflicted and those free from the disease; in
horse-racing, the same horses are ridden by all; and in baseball
games, bats, gloves, and masks are freely exchanged. Not easily does
the _bacillus leprae_ pass from body to body. Only is there danger
when one has open wounds which might come in contact with leprous
flesh. The usual precaution, after being with lepers, is the washing
with antiseptic soap, and the changing of clothing. And as to the
Londons' trip, two very important things were accomplished by it. In
the first place, Jack's longing to see the much-talked-of leper
retreat was satisfied; and that meant much. And secondly--more
important--probably the first detailed and absolutely truthful
account of the Settlement was given to the world in the article Jack
wrote soon after, entitled "The Lepers of Molokai." That article,
now reprinted in his "Cruise of the _Snark_," covers so thoroughly
this visit to Molokai that it is needless for me to say much more
concerning it. But my own observations as to leprosy in the other
islands of the Territory of Hawaii, and the many things told me by
the better-informed class of natives, may not be without value.
Segregation is imperative. By its means, leprosy is on the wane in
Hawaii. When a person is suspected of the disease, he is summoned to
Kalihi, in the outskirts of Honolulu and put through a thorough
bacteriological test. If the _bacillus leprae_ is found, after a
careful examination by the bacteriologist, the suspect is further
examined by a Board of physicians appointed for the purpose; and if
he is pronounced a leper, preparations are made for taking him to
Molokai. Plenty of time is given him in which to administer his
business affairs. Every courtesy is shown. And after being sent to
Molokai, he has the privilege of being again examined, at any time,
by competent authority, to determine the exact condition of his
disease.
As I have said, leprosy is very feebly contagious. But throughout
the world, there is widespread fear of it. Considering the
horribleness of the disease--for horrible it is, beyond the power of
the most unprincipled inkster to exaggerate--and its absolutely
incurable character, one cannot wonder much at the sentiment
existing among all peoples in countries where any of its forms are
known. To be pronounced a leper seems, to the average person,
virtually to be pronounced dead. But not decently dead! Were it so,
the added horrors would not be there. No, the leper's death seems
many times more dreadful than mere ordinary dissolution, because of
its slowness and the awful form it assumes. The average person
shrinks from death, but absolutely recoils from the same dark thing
when it dons the robe of this, of all diseases the most foul.
Furthermore, some deaths are swift--mercifully swift, and not
unlovely. Leprosy is usually slow, vile, hideous. One dies by
inches. Terrible in contemplation, what must it be when fastened
insidiously upon one's flesh!
But no more of this, lest I, too, be adjudged one of the purveyors
of things needlessly dreadful. But remember this: when Jack London,
or I, or any other man, says that the horrors of the Molokai leper
life have been exaggerated, it is not meant that the disease itself
has been exaggerated. No one denies that leprosy is an awful thing.
But anyone who has ever seen the leper colony of Molokai, or knows
anything about it, will most strenuously deny that the conditions
under which these people live are bad. Jack said, on his return to
the _Snark_, that, given his choice between living out his days in
any one of those "cesspools of human misery and degradation," the
East End of London, the East Side of New York, or the Stockyards of
Chicago, or going to stay in Molokai, he would, without hesitation,
with gratitude even, choose Molokai.
For he knows that the people of Molokai are happy. They live at
ease, _while they live_. But not so the people of the other places.
Theirs is one long, mad struggle for mere existence; life is a
turmoil, a riot, a nightmare. On Molokai, food is plenty. No fight
is there. The days are peaceful and the nights are happy. All is
music and beautiful scenes; fresh breezes are always blowing from
over the sea. The men and women of Molokai do not freeze through a
bitter-cold winter, nor do they swelter in a raging summer's heat.
While they live, they live in Paradise. No wonder Jack London knew,
without debate, which place he would choose.
The lepers themselves are satisfied--and what better testimony could
be asked? Since the bacteriological test was put into effect, a
number of persons once declared lepers and sent to Molokai have been
found to be wholly clean of the disease, and been returned to their
homes. They have never ceased bewailing their expulsion from
Molokai. "Back to Molokai," is the lament of all who have once
tasted of the island's delights and then been shut out from them.
One of the most unfortunate things about leprosy in the Territory of
Hawaii is the fact that the friends and relatives of lepers so often
hide them away when the disease first appears, and keep them hidden
until they are in a terrible condition. One day, when I was walking
along a little-frequented part of the beach, not far from Pearl
City, on the island of Oahu, I saw a small child playing near the
water. As I drew near, its mother came rushing toward it, gathered
it up in her arms, and ran to her hut, about fifty yards away. At
the time I was puzzled, but I was afterward told, in confidence,
that the child was a leper, and that the mother was determined to
keep it from the attention of the Board of Health.
It is best for the lepers themselves that they be taken to the
Settlement, where they can receive proper medical treatment.
Outside, they can do nothing but lie and await inevitable death. But
in the Settlement, the surgeons can make occasional operations, and
hold off the ravages indefinitely. Some lepers, stricken in their
youth, have lived happy lives, and died of old age, when thus
protected. Leprosy is very intermittent in its action; after once
appearing and being treated, it may not show itself again for years.
But if not treated, it gallops.
I well remember the case of a leper in the United States a few years
ago. The newspapers exploited the case sensationally, but I think
there was nevertheless an element of truth in what they printed. The
leper was a tramp. How he had contracted the disease, no one knew.
But it is said that he lived altogether in a box-car. This car he
was never allowed to leave. The railway company was desperate. Time
and again they tried to force him out at different stations, but
each time the men of the town cried a veto to the scheme. Thousands
of miles that leper tramp travelled. In the whole country, there was
no spot of earth big enough for him to set his foot on. In the
box-car he was, and in the box-car he must remain. Not that he
starved. People flung food to him as they fling food to dogs; also,
there were occasional donations of clothing, reached out to him on
long poles At last the railway company, grown doubly desperate, hit
upon an expedient. They unhooked the car one night, and left it
standing on a siding, about a mile from a little mining village. But
the trick failed. The next freight that pulled up that way was met
by several hundred black-looking men, armed with rifles; and when
that train pulled out, it carried with it the leper's box-car and
the leper. I never heard what became of the car, nor of its
occupant. But the story was a gruesome thing, and well illustrates
the difference between a leper's fare outside the Settlement, and
inside the Settlement.
[Illustration: LEPER BAND AT MOLOKAI, THE LEPER ISLAND OF THE
HAWAIIAN GROUP]
Now as to leprosy itself. No one knows what it is. It is classified
according to its manifestations. Delve we never so far into the
remoteness of antiquity, we will find records of leprosy. Fifteen
hundred years before Christ, it was widely known in the delta and
valley of the Nile. It flourished throughout the Middle Ages. To-day
it is common in Asia, Africa, South America, the West Indies, and
certain isolated localities of Europe. Little was known of it in the
ancient days; but little is known of it now. It is parasitic--that
much is certain. Dr. Armauer Hansen discovered the _bacillus leprae_
in 1871, but no one has gotten much further than that. Its only
alleviation is surgery, but this is sometimes without avail. Leprosy
is of three well-defined kinds: There is Running Leprosy, the most
horrible of the three. It shows itself mainly as shiny ulcers, which
throw off a highly offensive perspiration. In this kind, the
fingers, ears, nose, and eyes are often eaten away, leaving a
hideous bundle of flesh that but faintly resembles a human being.
Dry Leprosy, the second variety, does not take such an offensive
form. It resembles a very bad case of eczema, affecting the feet and
the hands more than any other part of the body. The skin becomes
thick and reddened, while the fleshy part rapidly disappears,
leaving the fingers crooked and hard, like claws. The third kind is
known as Nervous or Anæsthetic Leprosy. The nerves of the body cease
to do their work and become so deadened that a finger could be
scraped to the bone with a nutmeg-grater without the least pain.
This kind of leprosy makes its victim appear gnarled and twisted as
with rheumatism.
The period of incubation is not definitely known. Probably it is
some years. Now and then, however, there is a case in which the
disease develops with great rapidity, and is steady in its ravages.
Various internal remedies have been tried, among them chaulmoogra
oil, arsenic, salicylate of soda, salol, and chlorate of potash.
While these prove of efficacy in some cases, there has never been a
well-authenticated case of cure. Years may pass before the proper
remedial agent shall have been discovered.
One of the most interesting spots in the island is the grave of
Father Damien, the name in religion of Joseph de Veuster. In the
days when segregation on Molokai was first being tried out, many of
the lepers sent to the island were in an advanced stage of the
disease and were consequently helpless. Being unable to take care of
themselves, they lived in misery for years. Some of the deported
unfortunates were too feeble to build themselves grass houses, and
lived like wild beasts, anywhere they could find shelter. At this
time, the young Belgian missionary, Father Damien, undertook to
assume spiritual charge over the lepers. He worked for several years
in the Settlement, and with his own hands built huts for those
unable to build their own. He nursed the advanced cases, and with
the help of the stronger lepers dug drainage canals, and took off
the malarial water which had been a curse up to this time. He asked
small donations from the government, which were reluctantly given,
and he persuaded several other priests and two nuns to help him, and
gradually built up the present sanitary Settlement, which has more
perfect conditions for sick people than any sanitarium, hospital,
or detention camp in the world.
After about ten years of the most noble work any missionary ever
attempted, Father Damien contracted leprosy, and for the next twelve
years was not allowed to leave the island. But he carried out the
work he started, and during the last months of his life, when he was
one mass of gnarled, decaying flesh, he lay in his bed directing
that his work go on as it had when he was well to oversee it. And on
the day that he died, he asked to be brought out in the open air,
that he might see the fruit of his labours--the thing for which he
had given up his life. To-day, none can deny this man honour. He was
a hero. By his sacrifice, he has been and will be for years to come
the means of saving the lives of others. The United States
government gladly took up the work that he laid down unfinished, and
Molokai is now better managed than Father Damien, in his most
optimistic dreams, might have hoped. It is good to know that when,
not long after, a calumniator took up his pen to make light of the
work of the dead priest, and to vilify him personally, Robert Louis
Stevenson, himself a great writer and a great man, was there with
all his energy in the defense.
Leprosy is often accompanied by elephantiasis; in fact, some medical
authorities use the terms synonymously for the same disease. All
through the South Seas, where lepers and elephantiasis victims
mingle with the other natives in their villages, the ones afflicted
with elephantiasis are looked upon with more horror than the ones
with leprosy, as the natives say elephantiasis is more catching, and
that it develops more rapidly. At one island I was on, in the
Society Group, it is estimated that one-tenth of the population has
elephantiasis, or _fey-fey_, as they call it. Leprosy is not painful
until it reaches an acute stage, but elephantiasis is accompanied by
considerable pain from the first forming of the tumor, which tumor
sometimes weighs one hundred pounds.
It will be noticed that I have not attempted a full description of
leprosy. The symptoms once set forth, I fear certain of my
impressionable readers might begin to experience them, just as
hypochondriacs, after reading a patent-medicine almanac, appropriate
to themselves all the diseases therein described. The doctors have
enough to do; far be it from me to add to their troubles a swarm of
pseudo-leprosy cases. Besides, such an enumeration could do no good.
These things are depressing. Let us forget them, or, at least, the
worst of them.