Bernard Punikaia touches the tomb of Father Damien in Louvaine, Belgium, in 1995 while there for Father Damien’s beatification.
REMEMBRANCE
Bernard Punikaia of Kalaupapa: champion of justice
By Valerie Monson | Special to the Herald
His quest for dignity complete, Kalaupapa human rights activist Bernard K. Punikaia died last week on Ash Wednesday, Feb. 25, after he was anointed with oil, likened to Father Damien and serenaded — one last time — with his beloved Hawaiian music.
“I was thinking that Ash Wednesday was kind of the appropriate day,” said longtime friend and fellow activist Wally Inglis. “We had our aloha ceremony for Bernard and then he just sort of slipped away.”
And so ended the storied life of one of Hawaii’s true champions of justice.
Punikaia, 78, began his pursuit of equality for people affected by leprosy at Kalaupapa, but ended up as a global hero who inspired and empowered thousands in other countries who had also been isolated because of the disease.
He was elected as the first President of International Advocacy for IDEA (the International Association for Integration, Dignity and Economic Advancment), a network supporting people with leprosy, where his charismatic personality and unyielding principles took him to the United Nations and beyond in what he declared was his “quest for dignity.”
Within hours of his death, condolences poured in from Korea, China, Brazil, the U.S. Mainland, India and Japan.
“Bernard, you have left uneraseable foot prints in the quest for world peace and human happiness,” wrote Miyoji Morimoto, president of IDEA Japan. “You were the pride of IDEA. You were the hope of IDEA. Now you have so many of us who are following your path with the same determination that you had.”
Taken away at age 6
Born in Honolulu, the eldest child of a humble family, young Bernard was diagnosed with leprosy (now called Hansen’s disease) and taken away from his mother at the age of 6. He used to cry himself to sleep at Kalihi Hospital. Older patients tried to cheer him up by buying him ice cream. He was sent to Kalaupapa in 1942, when he was 11, with nearly three dozen other youngsters because Kalihi was within sight of the still smoldering Pearl Harbor.
Bernard was so sick he was not expected to live long. His “burying clothes” were kept close at hand and he suffered greatly from the pain. Had the sulfone drugs, which cured Hansen’s disease, not been introduced to Kalaupapa in 1946, Punikaia does not believe he would have survived much longer.
The close encounter with death at a young age would never leave him.
“I’ve wondered ‘How come I didn’t cross over?’” he said in an interview, one of many he gave over the years. “For a long time, I thought maybe there’s something in store for me. Now, I’ve asked myself the question ‘Have I done things expected of me?’”
Perhaps his role as a trailblazer was predicted in his Hawaiian name, Kaowakaokalani, which Punikaia said meant “bright light in the sky.”
That he was.
He realized early on the power of knowledge. Punikaia became a voracious reader of anything printed with words.
“I couldn’t stop reading,” he said. “I didn’t know how to stop. Even the want ads.”
He eventually took college classes in Hawaiian culture, business, health and law. His education showed in compelling interviews where he shared his self-developed philosophies and beliefs.
“He was always a wealth of information,” said Sacred Hearts Father Lane Akiona, pastor of St. Augustine Church in Waikiki who anointed Punikaia in the the sacrament of the sick in his last hours. “Bernard was a very learned man. He didn’t just stay at home, look at his situation and say, ‘Woe is me.’”
Save Hale Mohalu
Punikaia became a household name in Hawaii in the late 1970s when he led the protest to save Hale Mohalu, the residential treatment facility on Oahu for people diagnosed with leprosy. When the State Department of Health decided to close the homey confines of Hale Mohalu (“House of Comfort”) and move all the residents to cramped rooms at Leahi Hospital without asking for their input, Punikaia and others refused to budge. Their cause became front page news and attracted hundreds of supporters who became Punikaia’s army, waving signs in front of the State Capitol, gathering petitions and filing lawsuits.
“Bernard was clearly the leader,” said Inglis. “He was the man. He was very forceful and never minced words, you always knew where he stood. He had a sense that the patients weren’t victims, that they had their own strength, power and dignity.
“He appreciated the help from us, but he made sure that the patients determined their own destiny.”
Edwin Lelepali, who was sent to Kalaupapa with Punikaia in 1942, watched his childhood chum evolve into a force.
“What he did was terrific, he fought for us,” said Lelepali. “Bernard was a good leader. He was a smart man — and he could talk.”
Punikaia and other residents of Hale Mohalu and Kalaupapa occupied the buildings even after the state had shut off the water and power. Finally, on Sept. 21, 1983, those still resisting — including Punikaia — were arrested and the “House of Comfort” was bulldozed.
In the end, however, Punikaia and the people closest to him were the winners.
“Kalaupapa and Hale Mohalu had global implications because of his example of leadership, of standing up, of non-violent protest,” said Inglis. “It had impacts far beyond Hawaii. It was pretty amazing what Bernard did: to take what could have been a very provincial, isolated struggle and link it with global concerns of peace and justice.”
Sticking to his principles, Punikaia refused to retreat to Kalaupapa after Hale Mohalu was destroyed, essentially leaving him homeless. At times, he lived in his car, slept in a friend’s garage or, when he had a few dollars, bunked at the YMCA.
“I was concerned (by going back to Kalaupapa) that it would send a message that we had surrendered because people would have assumed I had left,” he said. “If we were going to continue the battle, we couldn’t do it elsewhere — it had to be here. People had to see me around. If I was not here, the cause would have collapsed.”
The cause did not bring back a House of Comfort for people with leprosy, but it did result in a complex of apartments for low-income senior citizens on the Hale Mohalu site. Punikaia drove that effort, too, as a leader of the Coalition for Specialized Housing.
Through it all, Punikaia looked to his constant source of inspiration: Father Damien, whom he often called his “north star,” another bright light in the sky.
More recently, Punikaia was worried that the aging Kalaupapa population might need support to enable them to live out their lives in their homes and to make sure their history is told the way they want it told. He knew the day was coming when the patients would be gone — and their important legacy might be lost. He spearheaded the effort to form Ka Ohana O Kalaupapa, which brings together the patients, their family members, descendents and longtime friends to serve as another voice for the community and work with government agencies.
Despite his outspoken ways and his taste for a good argument, Punikaia had a soft side, too. He was a talented musician and composer who produced an assortment of songs he sang while playing his autoharp.
“It’s the biggest part of my life, music,” he said. “Always playing or listening to other people’s songs, it got me through life. With the joy of singing, the joy of loving music and the joy of loving life, it was hard to feel sorry for yourself.”
For Bernard Punikaia, it was a life well lived, leaving behind a bright light in the sky and uneraseable foot prints.
Bernard Punikaia’s funeral and burial are scheduled for Kalaupapa on March 11. A memorial service in Honolulu will be held at a later date.