"Most of the experience of those who have been afflicted with leprosy in Hawaii—the anguish and bereavement, and also the hope and loves and courage—has never been told. A truly personal account from within that history is a rare and precious human document. We are all indebted to Henry Nalaielua for the intimacy and candor of this narrative, and to Sally-Jo Bowman, who helped to bring it into words." - W.S. Merwin, Pulitzer Prize for Poetry (The Carrier of Ladders)
"Henry Nalaielua is surely a kupuna of the centuries, whose aloha is unconditional, even through times of escalating changes for Native Hawaiians. A historian storyteller, composer, musician, singer, artist, diplomat and politically savvy health care advocate—this is how I know Uncle Henry. No Footprints in the Sand will now be woven into our history—for all who call Hawaii home. A must read for Hawaii health care providers." - Emmett Aluli, Molokai physician
"No Footprints in the Sand is the inspiring story of a life well lived despite physical affliction, separation from family, the injustice of exile. Henry Nalaielua has faced the challenges of that life with courage, honesty, dignity, and unfailing good humor. In the whole history of Kalauapapa there have been but a handful of books by, or about, the ordinary people who lived and died on that painful shore. No Footprints in the Sand ranks among the best." - Alan Brennert, Moloka'i
--Emmett Aluli, Alan Brennert and W.S. Merwin
From The Honolulu Star-Bulletin Henry Nalaielua was 10 years old in 1936 when he was forced to leave his parents in Ninole on the Big Island, their third child to be detected with the disease. His new world was dominated by the rules-ridden, paternalist bureaucracy of the Department of Health, first at the former Kalihi leprosy hospital and, later in Kalaupapa.
Nalaielua wrote: "We were denied the right to question our medications, even to ask if it had negative side effects or what it was expected to accomplish. With other rules, daily life at Kalihi came down to incarceration, a life sentence with no prospect for parole. It was a death sentence, too, because you would carry the stigma of the disease until the day you died. No matter what, you would always be known as a 'leper.'"
Although he freely uses the word "leper," which most other patients consider pejorative, Nalaielua does not take a tone of anger or the viewpoint of a victim. "You build up your own kind of immunity. I've been pretty lucky. I've tried to take things as they come and overcome the feelings." His story is one of rascally adventures of boys who climbed over fences every chance they got. And later, he and friends at the Carville leprosy hospital in Louisiana continued the adventures in road trips around the South.
Gov. George Ariyoshi appointed Nalaielua to the state Board of Health and he has been active in the Office of Hawaiian Affairs kupuna program, sharing the story of Kalaupapa with adults and children. Music has been a big part of his life, singing in numerous choirs, playing in bands for parties and luaus, and jamming with visiting professional musicians. Nalaielua's book is "a story of triumph," said co-author Bowman, who lives in Oregon. "He just kind of said, 'Yes, I have this disease, so what?' It's an upper of a book. If it weren't, I wouldn't have worked on it." --Mary Adamski, Honolulu Star-Bulletin, copyright Honolulu Star-Bulletin 2006
From The Honolulu Advertiser Although the back cover of Henry Nalaielua's memoir declares it "a journey of exile," there is little sense of exile about this frank and refreshingly unvarnished as-told-to story. Nalaielua starts life in a small Big Island plantation town and has no idea at age 10, accompanying his mother by steamboat to Honolulu, that he, like two of his sisters before him, has Hansen's disease, or that the diagnosis will mean confinement to Kalaupapa, on Moloka'i.
When the truth begins to dawn—at the gate of Kalihi Hospital, where his mother is turned away in tears and he is confined —he is confused and scared. But in the book's very next scene, he sits on a dormitory bed being served a pork-chop supper and deciding that pork chops were his new favorite. This progression foreshadows Nalaielua's long, eventful life: As with his diagnosis, he continues to be surprised—often tragically—by the circumstances he encounters. Even after treatment becomes available, his health is plagued by the side effects of the disease. He loves and loses several times. He is able to keep neither of his children. When his health does improve, he is thrown into the world with comically little training or preparation for even the day-to-day tasks of life.
Nalaielua, in the capable hands of his co-author, award-winning freelance writer Sally-Jo Bowman, reveals himself as a humble man graced with more than his share of optimism and humor. He loves and laughs easily. He works hard. He hesitates to see himself as a leader, though he holds positions of responsibility in the Kalaupapa and Hawaiian communities. He has to be talked into writing his autobiography and consents only because, he says, "I like talking about Kalaupapa" and believes that people are beginning to listen and understand the point of the patients' stories. Though he has been in ill health, Nalaielua, now 81, still lives in Kalaupapa. --Wanda Adams, The Honolulu Advertiser, copyright The Honolulu Advertiser 2006
