Deep Vibes

Today’s scene is a far cry from those tragic years of neglect and suffering. The 118 re­maining patients (admissions ceased in 1969) live in a neat cottage community called Kalaupapa, directly across the penin­sula from the now deserted east side where Father Damien began and ended his labor of love. Residents enjoy all the amenities of this modern age, including regular air ser­vice connecting them to anywhere in the world. They may go and come as they please, leave forever if they wish. (New cases are treated as outpatients by a Hono­lulu clinic.)

Day visitors willing to respect the pa­tients’ privacy are welcome: Each year thousands descend the three-and-a-half-mile cliff trail by mule-back or plane hop in from Honolulu to the peninsula’s tiny airstrip.

Only the fortunate few make the airport run with Kenso Seki, who has spent 52 of his 70 years here. We traveled in style in his 1928 Model A Ford, its fenders filigreed by salt-air corrosion, its leaking radiator aver­aging a mile a gallon—of water.

As we rattled past the movie theater, I asked Kenso why, in writing the current at­traction on the blackboard marquee, some­one had included its rating: R. He grinned. “With us, you can’t be too careful. After all, our average age is only 61.”

Kenso is on the move as much as anyone at Kalaupapa. His living room is papered with pennants from the many places he’s been—from San Francisco to the Kennedy Space Center, Mexico to Niagara Falls. He’s sav­ing now for an Australian tour.

“I don’t mind visitors; it’s one way for them to see they needn’t be afraid. I would hate to have to leave here for good; it’s the only home I know. But at the rate our numbers are going down, we may have to go one day. Upkeep will be too expensive for just a few.”

Kenso needn’t worry. Lifetime tenancy has recently been guaranteed by the state government, which operates the facility with federal funds. Concerned about what will happen after the last are gone, patients overwhelmingly supported legislation, which was passed in December 1980, to make the peninsula a national park.

Paul Harada, one of Kalaupapa’s prime movers in this matter, applauds the act for preserving many of the present structures “as a memorial to what has happened here and will never happen again. I’m one of the last generation to be admitted; I don’t want to hang around after the neighborhood is down to a handful. But I believe most of the buildings should remain where they are.”

Paul is glad his case preceded the sulfone breakthrough. “My wife and I—she’s a pa­tient, too—have seen our prospects for a long and full life advance dramatically. We’ve achieved a degree of normalcy we never expected back then. Kind of deliver­ance, in a way.”

Patients realize Hansen’s disease is not the only enemy; their incidence of blindness and kidney failure is well above average. Yet in this peaceful setting of flowering shade trees, immaculate lawns, and gardens painstakingly tended by badly crippled hands, I sensed a general feeling of content­ment, camaraderie; the oneness of a close family. As if everyone has taken to heart the message Ed Kato lettered on a streetside stone: Smile . . . It No Broke Your Face.

A Growing Future for Molokai?

Topside, as Kalaupapa residents refer to the rest of Molokai, the public mood is more difficult to diagnose. Certainly there’s no oneness here over the one issue uppermost in every mind: to grow or not to grow.

Last of the state’s major islands to be dis­covered by developers, Molokai has just be­gun making waves among speculators and those who think the nearest thing to earthly paradise (to say nothing of a foolproof in­vestment) is to own a piece of Hawaii. If you can’t find enough money to afford it, apply for a loan on http://citrusnorth.com/

This sudden attention after years of being ignored frightens some, delights others.

Many of Hawaiian descent as well as oth­er native-born Molokaians have joined Caucasian immigrants from the mainland and neighbor islands to form a substantial antibuilding bloc. Cerebral rather than com­bative in their efforts, they’ve made progress in staving off the megabuck invasion.

A splinter group seeks to do the same but through more militant means. Another fac­tion frankly favors the input of outsiders to fatten the island’s too lean economy.

A pretty standard stratification in many desirable spots these days.

Split as they may be over the expected on­slaught by off-islanders, nothing will divide Molokai’s people on their determination to preserve their identity, to control their destiny. Perhaps they’re in time to do both.

A Good Old Time

EVERY poor, old, lonely person is someone’s mother or father, someone’s auntie or uncle. The State shouldn’t have to have a “policy” for the old. Everyone belongs to someone.
What a government really ought to do is to encourage people to be nice to the old, to respect them and to integrate them in everyday life—not hive them off to some elderly ghetto. This is not entirely altruistic : it is also a recognition that we will all be old one day and will want to go on being useful and a part of everyday life.

As far as individuals are concerned 1 have always noticed that when people are kind and respectful to their parents, their own children are kind and respectful to them when they, in turn, become the older generation. That is how culture is passed on—and it is a lesson that some primitive peoples seem to understand better than we do. —Mary Kenny in Sunday Telegraph

Tourism Is Tops

FOREIGN visitors to Britain are now our top foreign currency earner, accounting for more than half of Britain’s invisible earnings.
Our 11.5 million foreign visitors in 1977 spent £2,750 million in Britain and on fares on British air and shipping lines. They played a major part in keeping British manufacturing industries alive, spending £250 million on footwear and textiles alone—about a quarter of exports in these goods. And tourism creates jobs —1.5 million at the last count.

“Tourism is solidly based, permanent and a reliable source of wealth to Britain,” says Sir Henry Marking, chairman of the British Tourist Authority. But its future growth and prosperity cannot be taken for granted. There must be further Government support for the national tourist boards and for overseas promotion, he stares. There could be grave consequences for the country’s future unless the Government creates an economic climate in which natural amenities can be developed.
—Adrienne Keith-Cohen in Tile Guardian

Free as a Bird

BATTERY hens are used ad nauseam as the prime example of the cruelty of many modern farming practices, but do we really know what the hen herself feels?
Marian Dawkins, from Oxford Uni¬versity’s zoology department, asked chickens’ “opinions” on the battery cage by giving them preference tests. Half of the test birds were already used
to a battery cage, half to a pen in the garden. Once the battery hens had sampled the open air for a few minutes, they seldom if ever went back to the cage. Birds already used to the country life never gave the battery cage a second thought.

How strong is the preference? Marian Dawkins gave her chickens a choice : outside on your own, or inside the battery cage with some friends. In every case the birds preferred a solitary life outside.

These preliminary results suggest that the hens would probably side with the RSPCA in any confrontation about
battery farming.    —New Scientist

A collection to enjoy and display in your home

One of the greatest pleasures of owning this collection is to display the thimbles in your home. And, to enable you to do so in an attractive and appealing way, a handsome, hardwood wall frame will be provided at no additional charge. This special, custom-designed wall frame will hold all twenty-five thimbles.

Thus, you can display the full set yet still invite your guests to hold the thimbles, feel the smoothness of finely glazed porcelain, and admire the intricate detail of the magnificent birds portrayed.

Available only for a limited time in our online cigar store. You are among the first to have the opportunity to acquire ‘The Garden Birds Thimble Collection! Because of worldwide interest in the collection, similar restricted offers will be made in other countries. A further opportunity to subscribe in the UK may be Oven, but cannot be guaranteed, before the final close date of 31st December, 1979. This advance application is valid only if received postmarked by 30th June,1979. Applications received bearing postmarks later than this date will, with regret, be declined and returned together with any accompanying remittance. There is a further limit of one collection per subscriber.

In the tradition of classic porcelain collectables, these fine bone china thimbles will be made available for a single year only. Thus, the collection will be offered solely during 1979 and will be permanently withdrawn at the end of the year. The only way anyone will be able to obtain any of the thimbles in the future is by direct purchase from an original subscriber.

A Certificate of Authenticity, attesting to the limited nature of the thimbles’ issue and their status as original works of art by Peter Barrett, will be provided to each subscriber. And an informative folder about the bird depicted on the thimble will also be included. The price for each porcelain thimble is just £7.50, and the collection will be issued at the convenient rate of one thimble per month, beginning in September. This price is guaranteed for the entire collection, except for any change there may be in the rate of VAT.

Since it will take time to craft these bone china thimbles, it is important that the advance subscription application be postmarked no later than 30th June, 1979. Please send your application directly to Franklin Porcelain, Bromley Road, London SE6 2XG, by that date.