The Island of Smiling Tragedy—A Visit to Mokogai

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 857, 28 December 1929, Page 17

The Island of Smiling Tragedy —A Visit to Mokogai

All gifts for the lepers of Mokogai are admitted to the island duty free. They should be addressed to the Mother Superior, Leper Station, Mokogai, or to Mrs. Pur don, Levuka, who is a frequent visitor to the island.

M through the en- i with j steam yac h t J pioneer. On through the blue j water she sped, coming to rest lightly beside the wharf at Levuka. From our wide, cool verandah we watched her berth, then hastened down to greet friends from Suva, all intent upon the same errand as we ourselves would be upon tomorrow. For this was the half-yearly mission of mercy of that trim little steamer — the bearing of gifts and messages, and best of all, the visits from friends to the stricken island of Mokogai . . . Mokogai, the island of high heroism, sheer tragedy and eternal hope, veiled in the exuberant beauties of ■nature, and the hidden, but no less beautiful, garments of faith and ser-

vice, and girded with fortitude—the Island of the Lepers. To some of our party, the coming visit was a thrill. Some of us had been many times. But all were eager and guarded carefully the medical permits which were to enable ns to land on the island. In the brief cool dawn we embarked and by 7 a.m. were under weigh. The main deck was reserved for Europeans, while the Indians and Fijians who were going to visit their people had a portion of the boat screened off to themselves. Swiftly we sped on, through the blue and golden morning until, by 9 a.m. we had reached the entrance to the reef at Mokogai, and soon were anchored in the little bay round which the settlement clusters. A pert white launch darted gaily about, manned by—ah, the first touch of tragedy!—three fine looking boys, not long out of their teens, George, Fritz, and Ernest, patients sll three. They live in a little house together and do all the odd jobs of engineering about the island, run their own wireless set, go fishing in their own launch, and are busy and merry together.

Boats were lowered and we were towed ashore. Awaiting us on the landing—one can scarcely call it a wharf—were the Reverend Mother and the Sisters of the French Order of St. Joseph, those wonderful women whose lives are devoted to the care of these afflicted ones. On each side were lined up the patients, ready to greet their friends and relations. As we noted these rows of smiling, gailyclad, often healthy-looking figures, it was hard to believe that so many of them were doomed to die of a loathsome disease. thought troubled them that day. It w-as their red-letter day, and gay w eie the “So Adras” of greeting. One woman of our party had not missed a trip for many years. She knew a number of the patients by name and had some special friends among them. She went laden with gifts. There was one quaint old Fijian woman, i.or instance, who always expected (and

received) a hat. The day we were there she was wearing four on her head'.

After the first greetings were over the Sisters took us in hand. Each

t Sister took charge of one or two 1 European visitors and after we had | been warned most carefully against [ touching any one or anything in any \ place, the tour of the island began, j Four hundred patients live on the J island. There are several white j men and boys, but no white women, jWe visited the women’s quarters | first, and were astonished at the beauty and comfort on every hand. Recently a new building has been erected for women patients. It is kept as exquisitely clean as any hospital and the floors are like mirrors. All the beds have beautifully embroidered quilts and pillow shams, worked by the patients themselves. On the children’s beds in the main , ward lay lovely dolls. Everyone seemed very happy and contented and, Indeed, in that atmosphere of love and care it would have been hard for them to have been otherwise. 1 Then we went through the oper- ■ ating theatre, all gleaming white

and silver; very professional and wonderful-looking to the outside visitor. One of the surprises to us, that surprising day, was the entire absence of anything distasteful or loathsome. The patients were all well-clothed and happy looking, and but for an occasional bandage visible here hnd there, it might have been a

model village anywhere. A visitor remarked to the Sister on this point. “We do not show the bad cases to visitors,” she answered quietly. “Oh, but couldn’t I see one?” the persistent one inquired. "I’m not easily shocked, and I’d like to see a bad case.” The Sister looked at her strangely for a moment. “Well, if you insist,” she said quietly, “Come with me” ... A few minutes later she reappeared, white and shaken. Half laughingly we asked if her curiosity had been satisfied. “Oh, don’t ask me,” she said shudderingly. “I hud no idea that it was like that. Sister, you are a heroine

to stay here.” The Sister smiled a little sad smile, which had yet a trace of secret exultation —the smile of one who sees beyond mere earthly sufferings. “Come,” she said, “Let us go up the hill.” Up a winding, leafy path we went where trees made a delicate canopy overhead and ferns and flowers played hide and seek with each other round our feet. At the

top of the hill stood a comfortable bungalow. Outside the door a large parrot screeched a dubious welcome to us, and on the verandah were the two men who lived there. As the Woman - Who - Had- Been-There-Before walked across the verandah, the one who was able to rise did so. Both faces were wreathed in smiles. “Oh, it’s you,” they cried, “Come and tell us all the news.” They were both quite blind, but they had recognised her step and her voice instantly. They asked her of Suva and Levnka and of friends who had been to see them before, of affairs in New Zealand

and Australia. Gladly we gave them what news we could and when we left them they we re deep in an argument with the men folk of another party on the subject of politics in New Zealand. Past more cheery little bungalows we went, among them that of the three boys we had seen in the launch;

a trim little home, as spotless as all the others and with every comfort in it —wireless, a good gramophone, snowy beds and plenty of books. At last we came back to the settlement and spent an hour or so talking to Jhe patients standing about, and distributing little gifts to them —a skein of bright embroidery cotton to one, a discarded dress for another, cigarettes, some books; such little things to bring such an overflowing measure of gratitude. “ Vanaka, vanaka,” they cried in thanks. Now and then tragedy reared its stark head in the sunshine. Some half dozen of us met a white boy in his early twenties, whom all of us knew well. Instinctively some of us stretched out our hands for a hearty shake. Smiling, be put his hands behiDd him and

(By MARJORIE M. COLHOUN.)

said wistfully, “Not this time, boys.” Then we came across a happy little white boy of ten or eleven who informed us proudly that he was “the only person on the island without a bandage.” A Sister told us that the disease had affected him inwardly, and was a very rare form. Pity shook us to our hearts’ core and we followed the Sister blindly as she led us into a specially prepared room where we washed our hands with strong carbolic soap. “Now,” she said brightly, “you are to come to our quarters for lunch. Would you like to see our church?” Seeking the reason for the love and fortitude and general air of happiness that reigned over the whole island, among patients and nurses alike, we eagerly assented and trod softly after her into the little building, dim and cool after the glare outside. Fresh white flowers made a glory of the humble altar and dimly we sensed the high faith and sense of service among this band of cultured women, exiled far from their native land, their lives dedicated to the succouring of these poor afflicted ones. Here was the core, the inspiration of that “goodness” that radiated over the island like the beams of the sunlight itself. Love and Faith in the ultimate goodness of the Father of All shone like a white flame above those massed flowers, and we all, irrespective of creed or sect, bowed our spirits in humbleness before it. Into the sunshine we came again and on to the Sisters’ house for luncheon, where a delicious meal awaited us. This part of the island is, of course, quite separate from the patients’ quarters—none dare venture there without permission.

After lunch we were taken to see the babies. All babies born of leper mothers on the island are taken away at birth and if, after a certain number of years, they show no traces of the disease, are discharged from the island as “clean.” Funny little black, woolly-haired things, they lay contentedly kicking in their cots, their clothes reduced to a minimum. Well nourished and well cared for, it mattered not to them whence their origin or what grieving mother had never seen her babe.

Time passed quickly and we had much yet to see: on we went again,

this time to the store conducted by a Sister specially appointed. Then to see another, with a mechanical turn of mind, who makes all the ice used in the settlement, and runs her own engine for the moving pictures. The doctor is a very busy man on visiting days, as is also the lay superintendent, who is really the business manager of the island. We caught glimpses of them now and

then, cheery and brisk, interviewing relatives of patients; now surrounded

by a group of natives, halt adoring, wholly awed; now talking earnestly with sad-eyed white folk whose dear ones were patients. Wonderful work has been done of recent years and great is the rejoicing, among staff and patients alike, when a case is pronounced cured and the patient is discharged from the island. These two men with their families live on what is known as the “clean” side of Mokogai—right away from the settlement. The road round the island has probably been completed by now and they will be able to motor over

to the settlement Instead of, as then, riding or voyaging by launch. A special bakehouse has been erected on the “clean” side of the island and here all the bread for the inhabitants is baked and is brought round the station headquarters by launch. Time did not permit of our visiting this side of the island. Already the boats were gathering at the landing to tow us back to the Pioneer. “Sa Moce! Sa Moce! Farewell! Farewell,” they chorused. “Come again next time.” At the top of the steps as we boarded the Pioneer stood a bath of strong disinfectant. Through this we had to walk, shoes and all. A little farther on we were given disinfectant soap with which to wash our hands before mounting the

main deck again. Strange to say the thought of infection troubled ns very little. We had been assured that so long as we touched nothing Infected we were quite safe and everybody had seemed .to take it all as so much a matter of course that we had not thought of any danger. In any case, our very slight risk seemed so small a thing beside the daily risk of that wonderful band of helpers, that we were ashamed to think of It.

The gay little white launch bobbed round us as we left, and aim and dimmer became the figures on the landing; the trim white suits of the doctor and the superintendent and the snowy pleated coifs and holland uniforms of the Sisters merging into a blur with the gay colours of the patients behind them. Back we went to our daily lives, a little thoughtful, a little awed by the realisation of the loving service of those men and women, cut off from their fellows and doing such wonder-

ful work so quietly. Pain and sorrow and suffering were there beneath the palm trees and the sunshine; but Love and Faith walked hand in hand among them, and Service was their handmaiden.

A Long Fight — but Goal is in View

rpHE difficulty is to reconcile the hideous presence of leprosy with the idyllic atmosphere of palm-clad

Mokogai. And jet, It is in surroundings such as those existing on Mokogai and at the leper station of Molokai, in Hawaii, that one would wish for the excellent medical work to be carried out. Perseverance in the treatment of this fearful disease has been unflagging. Armauer Hansen discovered the bacillus of leprosj l 55 j’ears ago, and. since then intense study of the disease has led to the adoption of a vegetable oil, chaulmoogra, as the basis of treatment. Its application at Mokogai and Molokai has brought reI markable cures in extremely disheartening cases. A case requires treatment for six months at least; some times a cure will take more than six years. Today some investigators assert

that leprosy is a disease which must eventually pass from mankind. The estimated number of sufferers is 3,000,000 and most of the victims cf the disease belong to native peoples who have not the advantage of modern medical science. The tremendous task still before those devoting the.r lives to the work of ridding races of the disease is being met courageously and the work must be counted successful, especially for the native peoples favoured with contact with the advantages of medical science. And yet, today, there are experts who disagree with the claims of treatment with chaulmoogra oil. One of these dissentients is near New Zealand. He is Dr. R. J. Millard, of the Coast Hospital, New South Wales. Recently,

Dr. Millard expressed a view that American doctors had claimed too much for chaulmoogra and its derivatives in treating leprosy. He said cases had been known where the disease had made its reappearance. Patients released from his hospital after treatment with chaulmoogra oil are simplj' on parole; they have to report for examination periodically. It is also Dr. Millard’s assertion that chaulmoogra oil had been used in treating: leprosy for over a hundred years, although Hansen’s discovery of the leprosy bacillus actually led to a widespread adoption of the oil. So, on Mokogai, a valiant work progresses.. It is keenly followed by New Zealanders and, to a smaller extent perhaps, Australians. Only when patients have been discharged from the station isolated on the tropical island in the Fijis can one gain the significance of ail the hope which has been placed behind the treatment by the members of the staff. Gentleness fighting quietly against hideousness —the life of Mokogai may be thus summed up. Mankind must feel grateful that twentieth century methods are having encouraging re-

sults in stamping out a disease which has been most dreaded throughout the centuries. Simple living under hygienic rules, with faith to assist the spirit, today replace the terrible hood and the wooden clapper of mediaeval times.