Short Stories
KOOLAU THE LEPER
by Jack Lo nd on
"Because we are sick they take away our liberty. We have obeyed
the law. We have done no wrong. And yet they would put us in
prison. Molokai is a prison. That you know. Niuli, there, his sis-
ter was sent to Molokai seven years ago. He has not seen her
since. Nor will he ever see her. She must stay there until she
dies. This is not her will. It is not Niuli's will. It is the will of the
white men who rule the land. And who are these white men?
"We know. We have it from our fathers and our fathers' fa-
thers. They came like lambs, speaking softly. Well might they
speak softly, for we were many and strong, and all the islands
were ours. As I say, they spoke softly. They were of two kinds.
The one kind asked our permission, our gracious permission, to
preach to us the word of God. The other kind asked our permis-
sion, our gracious permission, to trade with us. That was the be-
ginning. Today all the islands are theirs, all the land, all the
cattle—everything is theirs. They that preached the word of God
and they that preached the word of Rum have fore-gathered and
become great chiefs. They live like kings in houses of many
rooms, with multitudes of servants to care for them. They who
had nothing have everything, and if you, or I, or any Kanaka be
hungry, they sneer and say, 'Well, why don't you work? There
are the plantations.'
Koolau paused. He raised one hand, and with gnarled and
twisted fingers lifted up the blazing wreath of hibiscus that
crowned his black hair. The moonlight bathed the scene in silver.
It was a night of peace, though those who sat about him and lis-
tened had all the seeming of battle-wrecks. Their faces were leo-
nine. Here a space yawned in a face where should have been
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