OLIVIA: I used to dream.

I used to think  I was special.

I've lived my life as far from the center of attention as you can get.

I'm  Olivia Robello.

I was born twenty-one years ago, on June 6, 1916 in Kalāheo, Koloa, Kaua‘i,  in the Territory of Hawai‘i.

When I remember my childhood, I wonder how I survived.

One day,  when I was about five, Mama was outside boiling laundry water and asked my younger sister Eva  and me to gather some kindling for the fire.

EVA: You go get the wood this time, Olivia.

I'm the one that cut them into pieces.

OLIVIA: Who do you think you are,  ordering me around?

I'm older than you.

EVA : Don't even talk to me, old lady.

MOTHER: Eh!

The next one who  argues gets the hot paddle.

Olivia.

OLIVIA: Yes, mama?

MOTHER: Please do as Eva says.

EVA: Hee hee hee!

OLIVIA : It didn't hurt at first, even though the part  where my fingers were was almost chopped off.

MOTHER: Keep it above your head.

OLIVIA: Yes, Mama.

MOTHER: Don't you move it at all.

OLIVIA: When I came to, I was in my  bed.

Mama had washed the wound with a few drops of Lysol in water and  bandaged it very neat and snug.

I later found out that I'd had some stitches in  the hospital in Līhu‘e, which I had no memory of at all.

One thing I know for sure, it was  Mama who saved my hand.

No doubt about it.

MOTHER: Even though I felt like  passing out when I first saw it.

OLIVIA: Like other Portuguese women  in Kaua‘i, my mother, Mary Fernandez, tended to her family and took in dressmaking and  needlework for extra money.

They were very good at it.

Me?

Never happen.

The men, like my father,  Manuel Robello, either worked for the Spreckels, Kīlauea, or Kekaha Sugar Refineries or at  other jobs involving the sea and the land.

In the early days some men came over to Hawaii  as whalers.

Most Portuguese families came over in the late 1800s from the islands of Madeira  or, like our family, the Azores.

They brought with them hopes for a better life, prosperity,  freedom from the old ways.

When I was about seven, we left Kaua‘i and came to Honolulu.

Mama, my  brother Manuel Jr., and my sisters Eva and Mary.

Papa had left the month before and gotten a job  at the Dairyman's Association.

When we all arrived on inter-island steamship, Papa asked his boss  for an hour off of work to pick up his family.

His boss said “sure, no problem.” But when Papa  got back to the dairy, the boss man told him... BOSS MAN (OFFSTAGE): You're  fired!

You can't have them here!

OLIVIA: That was a pretty bad beginning.

But things got better when Papa got a job as a mechanic and heavy equipment  operator at the Del Monte Plantation.

That's when we all moved to Kalihi,  not too far from downtown Honolulu.

It been fun growing up right next to the busiest  downtown in the North Pacific.

The streets are filled with trollies and buses and cars and  more people than I'd seen in one place in my whole life.

It’s like something out of a Hollywood  movie, full of sights and sounds and extras from all over the world.

When it got real hot, us  kids would take a swim in the cooling waters of the Nu‘uanu stream then head for Kekaulike or  River Streets where the crack seed parlors and chop suey places and vegetable stands all were.

Our neighbors, ones who aren't Portuguese like us, are Hawaiian, Chinese, Japanese, and Filipino.

Different as we are, we live together on this floating island.

They're all poor, just like us.

It isn't like anybody's starving or anything, but there are times when things get pretty tough.

My formal education, if you can call it that, consisted of five years in public school and one  year with the Catholics.

Life in Honolulu was harder than on Kaua‘i, and more expensive, too.

Because we were poor everybody had to help out, even us kids.

When Papa got laid off with an  injury, I too had to leave school and start helping out and get a job.

My first job was at  the same pineapple cannery Papa had worked.

After that I counted eggs in a hatchery and worked at  Young Laundry running burlap bags through a mangle machine.

On weekend nights, I was a car hop in  Waikīkī.

I liked that job best ‘cause I got to eat all the hamburgers and fries and frosted malts  we wanted and take some home, too.

My mother is so beautiful to look at.

Whenever I'm with her  I call her "Mrs.

Mother" and she calls me... MOTHER: Mrs.

Daughter.

OLIVIA: She earns money helping rich  ladies in Mānoa with their housework.

She has to transfer three times on the bus  from Kalihi and works very hard for the little money that she makes.

Sometimes,  it's as if she's already gone and I'm remembering her like you remember someone  to keep them from completely fading away.

The way she laughed at my father's bad jokes,  her loving arms around me whenever I was scared, and the look she’d give me when I beat  her at gin rummy, which was all the time.

MOTHER: Ah, confunnit!

OLIVIA: Until two and a half years ago, during the first week of October 1934,  my life was ordinary and uneventful.

That was when Mama and I took the bus downtown  to see our family doctor.

Why do I have to go?

MOTHER: It's only a routine visit, 'Livia.

We  can't stay healthy without the doctor's help.

OLIVIA: But I am healthy.

MOTHER: Yes, we know that, but  everybody needs to visit their doctor each year.

Your father goes.

I go.

Your sisters and brother go.

OLIVIA: Do I really have to?

MOTHER: Come on, now.

Don't argue with  me.

After Doctor Wayson examines you, he'll just ask you a few questions.

OLIVIA: What kind of questions?

MOTHER: The kind young ladies your age get  asked by doctors whether they like it or not.

DOCTOR WAYSON: Good afternoon, Olivia.

OLIVIA: Afternoon, Dr.

Wayson.

DOCTOR: So, how have you been feeling lately?

MOTHER: She’s been a little run down.

DOCTOR: Olivia?

OLIVIA: I have been, a little.

Plus... MOTHER: Go on.

OLIVIA: I've been having  these pains in my stomach.

DOCTOR: All the time?

OLIVIA: They come and they go.

DOCTOR: Have you been menstruating every month?

MOTHER: It's okay, sweetheart.

You can tell him.

OLIVIA: I have.

DOCTOR: Is the flow heavy or light?

OLIVIA: Kind of heavy, I guess.

DOCTOR: Does it hurt just then or at other times?

OLIVIA: At other times, once in a while.

DOCTOR: You know, these  things happen to our tummies, especially if we eat too much Portuguese sausage.

MOTHER: Oh, she does love her linguiça.

DOCTOR: We haven't taken  out your appendix, have we?

OLIVIA: No.

DOCTOR: Your cheeks look a little  rosy.

Are you wearing makeup today?

OLIVIA: No.

DOCTOR: Been at the beach a lot?

OLIVIA: Not really.

DOCTOR: Lie down on the table for me, please.

Those water blisters on your  legs, how long have you had them?

OLIVIA: I don't exactly  know, maybe a couple months.

DOCTOR: Has she been suffering any kind of stress?

MOTHER: It's probably all the excitement.

DOCTOR: Oh, about what?

MOTHER: Olivia just got engaged.

DOCTOR: Congratulations, Olivia.

I am happy for you, child.

OLIVIA: His name is Les Teixeira, a sweet  Portuguese boy my parents really like.

We met when I was sixteen.

My sister  Mary and I were walking home one night from the Kalihi Theatre when we saw fire  engines rushing to a house on our street.

MARY: Will you look at that.

OLIVIA: It's not our house, is it?

MARY: No, it's further down the block.

OLIVIA: By the store?

MARY: I think so.

OLIVIA: I hope everybody's okay.

LES: Boy, that’s some fire, yeah.

That’s the biggest I've seen all year.

OLIVIA: You just watch 'em or you start 'em, too?

LES: Oh, you're funny.

I know  funny.

I'm Les.

Les Teixeira.

OLIVIA: What's that short for, Leslie?

LES: Lester.

OLIVIA: Oh, even worse.

LES: I never had any complaints.

OLIVIA: You think a lot of yourself, don't you?

LES: I'd like to think more about  you.

What's your name anyway?

OLIVIA: Anyway.

LES: Na, really.

OLIVIA: Agnes….

Henrietta… LES: Well whatever your name is,  you look like a Kalihi girl to me.

OLIVIA: And what does a Kalihi girl  look like, in your humble opinion?

LES: Cute, like you.

Eh, Agnes!

Henrietta!

Where you live?

OLIVIA: He never got my name or my  address.

Not for a while at least.

DOCTOR: Roll up that sleeve a little higher for  me, please.

That mark, how long have you had it?

OLIVIA: About two weeks.

MOTHER: We've been coating it  with red dirt from our front yard.

DOCTOR: Has she been suffering any numbness or  brittleness or other irritations of the skin?

DOCTOR: I'm going to take a little  sample for the laboratory to check out.

OLIVIA: What for?

DOCTOR: Just a precaution.

There are  some things floating around right now.

OLIVIA: Things?

DOCTOR: It's probably nothing to  worry about.

Now this may hurt.

OLIVIA: That's when he began taking scrapings  from around that spot on my arm.

He went deeper into the flesh than I ever thought he  would.

I tried really hard not to scream, and I didn't, but I almost passed out.

The  sawbones bandaged me up and told my mother… DOCTOR: She's in excellent health  for an eighteen-year-old.

Not to worry about a thing.

Probably  just a mosquito bite gone bad.

OLIVIA: It was night by the time by the time we returned home and reported to  my father that all was well.

MOTHER: You know what you're  father's going to say.

OLIVIA: He knew, he knew.

FATHER: I told you was nutting.

What?

MOTHER: Les is coming over tomorrow.

FATHER: Ah, Les who?

OLIVIA: Papa.

FATHER: So dat's da big surprise?

OLIVIA: He wants to talk with you.

FATHER: About what?

MOTHER: You know exactly what.

FATHER: Oh, we’ll see about that.

So, when do we eat around here?

MOTHER: Manuel!

FATHER: That's my name, you like my address?

MOTHER: You're just being irritating now.

You know how Olivia feels about this boy.

FATHER: I guess there's a  lot worse than Les out there.

OLIVIA: Hey, that's not a very nice way  to put it, Papa.

I think Les is tops.

FATHER: And really.

Why is that?

OLIVIA: He wants the same things as I do,  a simple life and a family.

Plus, we like each other.

I don't pick fights with  him like I have with other boys.

We're going to be married as soon as he gets his Army  discharge.

Then we're moving in here with you.

FATHER: Oh no no no no no you’re not!

MOTHER: Never mind you.

Go.

And  you better be nice to this boy.

OLIVIA: Oh, you’re irritating.

LES: Oh, your father no like me much.

OLIVIA: What are you kidding  me, Les?

He loves you.

LES: No, it's you he loves.

I'm just a spider  come trap his perfect little Catholic girl.

OLIVIA: But you're a Catholic  spider so what's the problem?

LES: Not funny.

OLIVIA: Sorry.

I wanted so badly  to listen in on your talk with Papa this morning but Mama wouldn't  let me.

Tell me what he said to you.

LES: Oh, is that an order?

OLIVIA: Come on, I have to know.

LES: He asked plenny questions.

OLIVIA: Like?

LES: Like how I plan to support you.

OLIVIA: You told him about the  engineering scholarship you got to U.H.?

LES: I told him.

OLIVIA: And how the Army's going to pay for the  rest of your tuition and give you a stipend?

LES: All that.

LES: He said it nevah sound like one steady  paycheck.

Plus he never sound excited for take on one other boarder.

Tell me you  never said we goin’ live in his house.

OLIVIA: He knows I was only kidding about that.

LES: Olivia!

OLIVIA: What?

LES: You gotta stop trying for run everything.

You going get us in trouble that way.

OLIVIA: Tell me about it but sometimes it’s the only way to get things going.

You got  to just jump in and do it yourself.

LES: And what am I supposed to do while you're  out trying for conquer the world?

OLIVIA: I’m too willful, aren't I?

LES: I knew that when I met you, though.

OLIVIA: Then you've only yourself to blame.

OLIVIA: I'm only kidding with you, Les.

I love it when you understand  me, when you talk softly to me.

LES: Like when?

OLIVIA: Like just now.

I love it when you hold me.

I've never let a boy get a grip on me before.

It's different with you.

With you it's kind of special.

I wasn't sure about much back then, but I sure liked having Les around.

We cared for each  other a lot.

But I shivered at the thought of running a house for him.

And the idea of  someday having a baby scared me even more.

LES: Oh what?

You think this all it  takes for make me want to marry you?

OLIVIA: I'm not gonna make you  do anything you don't want to.

LES: Nah.

You just like somebody go movies with.

OLIVIA: Yeah.

And give me rides in his  car.

That was very shallow of me.

I know that now.

Believe me, I really wanted to  marry Les.

He asked me more than once, but I just couldn't decide.

I'd tell him "LEAVE!"

He would.

Then I'd feel so lonely and really want him back.

I'd tell myself over and over, "If  he ever asks me again, I'll immediately say, “Yes, Mr.

Texeira, I will marry you.” We set  the date for some time in December, 1934.

That night, back at home, I had a scary  dream.

I was inside an old wooden building with an eight-foot fence all around it.

The people inside had distorted faces and expressions of fear and loneliness I  never can forget.

A few were young.

Most were middle-aged and old.

Some were clearly  sick with bumps and swelling and swollen ears.

Except for that, they looked just like my  neighbors in Kalihi.

Plenty of Chinese, Japanese, Hawaiian, and Filipino, too.

There were also plenty of Portuguese people in there that looked just like me.

There was  something about that dream that seemed so real, so depressing, like a premonition of a place  that could only bring great sadness with it.

My mother was in my dream, standing in an area where  people from the outside world were visiting those trapped inside.

We looked at each other through  a fence and thick greenery.

It was as if she'd been to this place before but something about  it felt like the first time, or maybe the last.

ATTENDANT: Contact with  patients is strictly forbidden.

OLIVIA: When my mother woke me and  I told her of my dream she said... MOTHER: Don't think about it anymore,  Olivia.

Why should you be going to a place like that?

Doctor Wayson hasn't even  called us back.

You're perfectly fine.

OLIVIA: Soon we forgot all about  it and went on with our lives.

MOTHER: Aye Jesus!

Look  your father.

What you doing?

OLIVIA: Can you guys dance?

Yeah, show me how  to dance, for when I’m married, with my husband.

OLIVIA: Sing it.

MOTHER & FATHER (singing) : I can  hear the old Hawaiians saying, Komo mai no kāua i ka hale welakahao.

OLIVIA (singing): It won't be long when  my ship will be sailing back to Kona, a grand old place that's always  fair to see, you're telling me… LES (singing) : I'm just a little  Hawaiian, a homesick island boy, I want to go back to my fish and poi.

LES & OLIVIA (singing) : I wanna go back to my  little grass shack back in Kealakekua, Hawai‘i, where the humuhumunukunukuāpua‘a go swimming by.

Where the humuhumunukunukuapua‘a go swimming by.

HEALTH OFFICIAL: Is this  the home of Olivia Robello?

FATHER: Yeah, who wants to know?

HEALTH OFFICIAL: I'm here to take her away.

FATHER: Take who?

HEALTH OFFICIAL: Her.

FATHER: You touch my daughter  that’s the last thing you do.

OLIVIA: It's all right, Papa.

HEALTH OFFICIAL: By order of the Board of Health, you have come with me right  now to Kalihi Hospital.

MOTHER: Mister, we already went to see  Doctor Wayson.

He never said anything to us.

OLIVIA: Besides, I'm not sick.

Why do I have to go there?

HEALTH OFFICIAL: Because you have leprosy.

OLIVIA: All my hopes for a normal life ended that  day.

The whole world had suddenly changed.

We'd all heard about this disease, ma‘i pākē.

Nobody  really knew how it came to Hawai‘i or who brought it here.

All we knew was that it had been around  for almost a hundred years and wasn't picky about who it infected.

We didn’t know anyone personally  who actually had the disease.

All we knew was that it was something you never wanted to get.

I was  no longer Olivia Robello who was happily waiting to be married.

Now I was Olivia, a frozen nothing.

I felt so alone I couldn't speak.

There was only one thought I had.

Excuse me while I get some  things together.

I searched blindly under the kitchen sink for a box of rat poison I knew my  father kept in there but I couldn't find it.

I guess it just wasn't meant to be.

That  was a day I'll never forget - October 19th, 1934.

The whole street turned out to watch me  being taken prisoner.

My niece, Naomi Anne, my sister Mary's daughter, she was my  little darling.

Whenever she'd see me, she'd crawl over to where I was and sit on my  lap.

That day she tried to grab my hand as I left the house.

I told her mother, "Keep  that child away from me!"

It was in that moment that I became a stranger, leaving a home  and people that I loved.

There were no tears, just disbelief and utter hopelessness.

I had  become what everybody started calling me.

NEIGHBOR MAN (OFFSTAGE) : That Robello girl, Olivia, didn't you hear?

She's  a leper, locked up, in Kalihi.

OLIVIA: They always whisper  when they say that word... OFFSTAGE VOICES: Leper, leper, leper, leper.

OLIVIA : ...as if by saying it too loud  they might become one themselves.

I never used to hear that word and now I hear it all the  time.

Even on the radio shows the actors say... OFFSTAGE VOICES: What am I, a leper?

You  look like a leper.

I feel like a leper.

OLIVIA : Oh, yeah?

You feel like a leper?

Well,  I'm gonna to let you know what it feels like to be this leper!

I can still hear my parents wailing  as the paddy wagon drove off with me inside, straight up Pu‘uhale Road.

They cried like I'd  heard Hawaiian people cry when they lost someone.

[PARENTS CRYING OFFSTAGE] OLIVIA: As they were taking me in, I remembered two years  before.

I was sixteen.

We were living at the top of Pu‘uhale Road, right next to the hospital.

Sometimes a truck would pass by our house.

The top and the sides would be covered with a tarp but the  back would be open.

I could see the people inside and they'd be crying.

Now I’m in a car driving  up that same road.

Now it’s me doing the crying, but on the inside where nobody can hear.

When I first walk into Kalihi Hospital, oh my God, it is exactly like my dream!

The  fences, the sad, distorted faces.

Exactly!

It is a place I'll come to hate, a sprawling  encampment of old army barracks and crummy medical buildings.

There are signs everywhere  telling you where you can’t go and where you can, what you can do and what you can't.

They don't  waste time letting you know in no uncertain terms who is running your life.

Everyone is looking at  me, the new girl.

I try to avoid their eyes but it's impossible.

These poor people are physical  wrecks when once, maybe just a few years ago, they were beautiful and full of life.

My mind  is racing.

Is this what's going to happen to me?

There is a smell in this place that  you will never forget, a mixture of iodine, rubbing alcohol, and people's tears.

I am  processed on arrival into the treatment center.

NURSE: Next.

I said next.

OLIVIA: Me?

NURSE: Of course, you.

Come on.

Come on quickly.

I've got no time to waste.

You must  strip down to your bra and panties.

OLIVIA: What for?

NURSE: You're about to be examined.

OLIVIA: Can't this please be done another time?

NURSE: Why should we wait for you?

Well?

OLIVIA: As of yesterday, I have my period.

NURSE: So.

OLIVIA: So I'd feel embarrassed.

NURSE: You strip now.

Come on.

OLIVIA: I can feel these doctors eyeballing every inch  of my body.

Now I know what monkeys feel like in the zoo.

This is the first time in my life that  I've been talked about like I'm not even here.

DOCTOR: As you know, gentlemen,  several genes have been associated with a susceptibility to leprosy.

Now  the immune system can easily eliminate the disease during its early infection  stage before severe symptoms develop.

OLIVIA: One of the doctors is young.

He blushes when he sees me.

I want to go through the floor but no such luck.

DOCTOR: Some new evidence indicates that  not all people who are infected with M. leprae develop leprosy.

Genetic factors have  long been thought to play a role due to the observation of clustering around certain  families and the failure to understand why certain individuals develop lepromatous  leprosy while others develop other types.

A defect in cell-mediated immunity may cause  susceptibility.

Your hair is very beautiful, Miss Robello.

As you can see, I'm going quite  bald.

Do you mind if I have some of yours?

OLIVIA: Grow your own.

This is mine.

The exam went on for another twenty minutes.

After that, I am taken into a cubicle.

OLIVIA: Can I put my clothes back on now?

NURSE: No!

You'll wear these from now on.

OLIVIA: What a farce.

What a railroading.

They catch you like a crook and you have no rights at all.

Bastards!

They  don't care about ruining a life.

They don't even give me a few days  to take care of my personal affairs.

WOMAN (OFFSTAGE): Please cry.

You'll feel better if you do.

OLIVIA: Whoever she is I want to believe her,  I really do, but the tears just won't come.

WOMAN (OFFSTAGE) : Don't worry too  much.

I saw you when they brought you in.

You look so clean.

You'll be  going home before one year goes by.

OLIVIA: I awake at dawn on the morning  of my first full day in Kalihi Hospital.

It is so quiet I can hear the pigeons outside  my window.

Pretty soon I begin to hear dish pans and people talking from the kitchen, which  is right nearby.

That makes me hungry.

The room they've assigned me is pretty nice, with lots of  daylight, and the paint looks new, too.

But none of that matters.

With each day that passes I feel  less alive, less than human.

It's like the Wheel of Medicine and the numbing routine of hospital  life are grinding me down.

Every Saturday morning there's an inspection.

A doctor and a nurse  make rounds.

They go to every building.

All the patients line up against the wall on the porch.

First, they inspect our hands, very carefully as the nurse takes notes in each patient's chart.

Then one by one we face the wall, lifting one foot at a time.

The doctor sticks a pin in the bottom  of our feet as the nurse stares at us to make sure from our reaction we still have feeling there.

This is how it is, and there's absolutely nothing we can do to change our situation.

It isn't  too long before I start to get cramps in both my hands.

I mean real pain.

After a few months,  I began having trouble grabbing door knobs.

It's painful to even hold a washcloth or a towel.

I can feel myself falling to pieces, and fast.

BETTY: How you?

OLIVIA: My heart is pounding as  this girl walks nearer.

I am as afraid of her as I am of all the other patients.

BETTY: My name's Betty.

What's yours?

OLIVIA: ...Olivia.

BETTY: Aloha, Olivia.

Oh, you like some  cracked seed?

My mother went send me some.

OLIVIA: I am afraid to touch  anything that a patient has touched, but I don't want to hurt her feelings.

OLIVIA: Mahalo.

BETTY: Don't mention it.

OLIVIA: I can't believe how good  it tastes.

But it isn't just the sweetness of the candied plum.

It's this  simple act of kindness that Betty has shown me.

It seems to make her happy.

How long have you been here, Betty?

BETTY: Two years.

But I'm getting paroled  soon, at least that's what the doctors say.

OLIVIA: Paroled?

BETTY: That's what they call it here when your tests come up clean and  you can go back to society.

OLIVIA: I see.

I feel good for you.

I really do.

BETTY: My symptoms are almost all cleared up  so I can get my old job down back Waikīkī.

OLIVIA: What did you do there?

BETTY: Show da tourists all  da sights.

You know, da beach, Diamond Head, da Royal Hawaiian  and Moana hotels, Kapi‘olani Park.

OLIVIA: That sounds like fun.

BETTY: Pays good, too.

Sixty cents one hour.

Maybe I can get you one job after you get out.

OLIVIA: That would be great.

BETTY: You can have the rest.

I get plenny.

See you around.

OLIVIA: See you.

I find out that the nurses are always  making their rounds.

They take a sample of your blood and give you something  that tastes very bad.

What's this?

NURSE: Epsom salts and baking soda.

OLIVIA: I asked for scrambled eggs and ham.

NURSE: Guess again.

OLIVIA: I tried some of that  stuff yesterday.

It’s horrible.

NURSE: It's good for you.

OLIVIA: I don't want it.

NURSE: You'll drink it all, right now,  or we'll double the dosage until you do.

OLIVIA: After that I am taken to a photographic  studio where everyone has to have their picture taken.

The photographer is in a real  hurry to get out of there, I can tell.

PHOTOGRAPHER: Put your arms across  your chest and hold them.

Come on, let's see those hands.

Higher.

Higher.

Now spread 'em out.

OLIVIA: What?

PHOTOGRAPHER: The fingers.

The  fingers.

They wanna see the fingers.

OLIVIA: Why do I have to do that?

PHOTOGRAPHER: I don't make the  rules, Missy.

I just do is what the Department of Health tells me to do.

Been doing  this nine years.

Never taken a bad picture yet.

OLIVIA: Yeah, I bet that's a matter of opinion.

PHOTOGRAPHER: People are waiting.

Thatta girl.

Smile for me now.

OLIVIA: The last thing I'm about  to do is smile for you, fool.

PHOTOGRAPHER: Look, I know you can  do this.

Give us a nice big smile.

OLIVIA: HEY!

When you're done snapping  pictures you get to pack up your camera.

You get to go home to your family.

I can't leave this place so tell me, what do I have to smile about?

Prisoner 3306, that's me.

In my first few days here, I find out that bathing  is a favorite treatment.

I'm telling you, baths, baths and more baths, scalding hot then arctic  cold.

A bunch of those a day.

Contrast baths, they call them.

I've never felt so  clean in my entire life.

During my first few weeks the health authorities  pay more than one visit to my parents.

OFFICIAL 1: We have begun treating  Olivia with daily doses of iodine along with weekly injections of chaulmoogra oil.

MOTHER: I've never heard of that.

OFFICIAL 2: It's from a tree they  grow in India.

It's got what they call hydnocarpic acid which will slow  and possibly cure this tropical disease.

FATHER: How do we really  know that's what she's got?

OFFICIAL 2: All of our tests  indicate that your daughter has contracted this particular bacteriological infection.

FATHER: But from where?

Nobody wants to tell us that.

OFFICIAL 1: That's not something we know.

It's  just our job to treat it once it's diagnosed.

OFFICIAL 2: Try not to  worry, Mr.

And Mrs...Robello.

MOTHER: That's easy for you to say.

OFFICIAL 1: Olivia is being treated  with the latest therapies... OFFICIAL 2: ...and will hopefully,  eventually, be released.

FATHER: What if nothing comes from your  treatments?

Where does our girl go then?

OLIVIA: You know what I think?

I think I  was perfectly fine until they gave me the bacteria right here in the hospital, just  to meet some patient quota or something.

There aren't enough janitors in the place, so  everybody is assigned certain chores.

We girls work from early in the morning cleaning  the bathrooms and sweeping and mopping the hallways and the porches.

Then after lunch  we work in the sewing room sewing bed patches and making pajamas.

The Department of Health  gets plenty of labor out of us, believe me, and all for nine dollars a month.

Eventually,  I'm put to work in the craft shop painting wooden hula girls that they sell to tourists,  as if Hawai‘i is all about hula girls, coconut trees, and luaus.

If people really  knew whose hands were all over these stupid things they wouldn't be so quick to spend their  money.

If I never see another hula girl again, it'll be all right by me.

I've met a few  people in the shop and in the wards, like Betty and her friend Linda.

They try to be nice  to me.

They know how it feels to be a newcomer.

LINDA: Aloha, Olivia.

OLIVIA: Aloha.

LINDA: I'm Linda.

I've seen you around.

OLIVIA: I've seen you, too.

BETTY: Linda's a lotta fun, Olivia.

You'll see.

LINDA: This place isn't so bad  if you know how things work.

BETTY: And Linda knows.

OLIVIA: Oh, really.

BETTY: She's been here the longest  of all of us Honolulu girls.

OLIVIA: How long is that?

LINDA: Five years.

OLIVIA: I thought Kalihi Hospital was  only supposed to be a processing center.

BETTY: That's just what they  tell you to keep you calm.

LINDA: No pilikia, Olivia.

You stick with us.

You'll see.

Being in here is not without its rewards.

OLIVIA: I like Linda and Betty okay, but I  prefer to keep to myself.

I like to walk around the grounds, breathing in the plumeria and ginger  that grow there.

Oh, and the fresh-cut grass each week.

It smells heavenly.

I think they take better  care of the grounds around here than they do the people.

When I look up at the sky, which I do a  lot, I love watching the planes go by, heading to places I'll probably never get to see, not at the  rate I'm going.

Other times, I like to sit on the lanai and read the Bible, which can be comforting,  sometimes.

“Leviticus 13.

And the Lord spoke to Moses and Aaron, saying, 'When a man has on the  skin of his body a swelling, a scab, or a bright spot, and it becomes on him like a leprous sore,  then he shall be brought to Aaron the priest, who shall examine the sore; and if the hair on it has  turned white, and the sore appears to be deeper than the skin of his body, it is a leprous sore.

Then the priest shall pronounce him unclean.'"

I haven't seen my parents since my  arrest.

How heartbroken they must be.

They're probably trying to go on with  their lives, but when I close my eyes, I can see the helplessness in theirs,  wondering if they'll ever see me again.

MOTHER: They say that we can visit  Olivia on weekends if we want.

That's all you have to say, nothing?

FATHER: I don’t think going  there right now is a good idea.

MOTHER: When will it be, Manuel?

FATHER: Later, when all the talk dies down.

MOTHER: Which may be never.

FATHER: I say we wait and we see.

MOTHER: That's our girl you're talking about.

FATHER: You think I don't know  that?

What do you want me to do?

MOTHER: Don't you worry about  it.

I'm going over by myself.

FATHER: Mary!

Mary!

MARY!

ATTENDANT: Contact with  patients is strictly forbidden.

OLIVIA: It's all right, Mama.

If I pay two dollars from my work money to the duty nurse or  guard they'll give it back to me.

MOTHER: But that's not right.

OLIVIA: That's just the way it works around here.

Welcome to the doghouse.

Now  tell me what you brought me.

MOTHER: Don't you want to be surprised?

OLIVIA: No.

I wanna know right now so I  can make sure they don't steal anything.

MOTHER: Well, I brought pao duce and malasadas.

OLIVIA: Yummy.

MOTHER: And some of your favorite cone  sushi and glass noodles from Kalihi Deli.

OLIVIA: And Ginger ahi?

MOTHER: Ginger ahi, too.

Oh, and half a coconut  cake.

Your father ate the other half last night.

OLIVIA: How is Daddy?

MOTHER: He wanted to come with me  but... they wouldn't let him off work.

OLIVIA: You don't have to lie for him you know.

MOTHER: Olivia!

OLIVIA: And Mary and Eva?

MOTHER: Your sisters said to say hello.

OLIVIA: My sister Mary and I have talked on  the phone a couple times.

I know she loves me.

She's always been there for me as far back  as I can remember.

But she has a small child, so I can understand why she doesn't visit.

My younger sister Eva, she's another story.

When she met her future husband, she never told  him about me, never even said she had a sister named Olivia.

I've sent her birthday, Easter,  and Christmas cards since I've been in here and I've never once had an answer.

Maybe it's  the condition of the envelopes that scare her.

The Health Department scissors open the four  corners and fumigates each one with a mixture of potassium permanganate and formaldehyde  from the spread of so-called "infection".

You can smell the stuff from a mile away.

Eventually, I stopped writing to Eva.

She's obviously done with me.

It hurt a lot at first,  but it doesn't matter anymore.

And Manuel, Jr.?

MOTHER: Your brother's still in school, Olivia.

He can't just... Look, they all  love you.

They're just a little scared.

OLIVIA: And you, Mama?

P.A.

ANNOUNCEMENT (OFFSTAGE): Orderlies to room forty-two, please.

Orderlies,  orderlies to room forty-two.

Stock room attendants report to  quartermaster’s office.

Stock room attendants report to quartermaster’s office.

MOTHER: You look thin.

What  are they feeding you here?

OLIVIA: It's not too bad.

Strip steak, rice, cabbage soup but, lots of pork but all  greasy kind and covered in brown gravy.

MOTHER: You never did like brown gravy.

OLIVIA: Maybe just a little on the side.

How  is Les?

I haven't seen my fiancé since before my diagnosis.

He'd gone to the mainland to  get his Army discharge so he wasn't around when all these things started happening to  me.

I've told my family and friends not to tell him where I am.

If he knew he'd probably  break it off, and fast.

Better this way if I do it.

He's written to me a bunch of times.

Mama  brought the letters.

I’ve written him back, trying to explain how ashamed I feel and how  much I still love him and still want to be with him.

But before I can get to the end of the  page, my pencil freezes.

I've thrown all those letters away.

I just hope he meets someone who  will love him like I wanted to.

I know what he doesn't.

Everything from before is over for us  now.

I'll be in here for a thousand years.

My sister Mary tells me he's been seen wandering  around our old neighborhood at all hours.

LES: Does anybody know where the Robello family  went move to?

Somebody told me out Wai‘anae side.

But I went.

I asked around, but nobody tell  me nothing.

Maybe they don’t know, or maybe... Somebody must have seen Olivia.

How about you?

Have any of you seen Olivia?

Have you?

Try look.

I took this picture of us not that long ago.

Have you seen Olivia?

Olivia!

Olivia!

OLIVIA!

HOSPITAL P.A.

ANNOUNCEMENT (OFFSTAGE): All  visitors will now vacate the hospital premises.

Visiting hours are over.

All visitors  must now vacate the hospital premises.

MOTHER: I'll be back.

OLIVIA: I may not be here.

MOTHER: Don't do anything foolish,  Olivia.

This is where we're living now.

OLIVIA: My parents, they’ve had to move several times  already.

The neighbors don't want them around.

NEIGHBOR LADY (OFFSTAGE): That's Mary Robello.

She has a daughter with, you know, leprosy.

OLIVIA: My sister Mary sent me a  letter telling me that inspectors from the Health Department  have been watching my family and showing up without notice to take  skin snips and make other examinations.

INSPECTOR: Hello?

Mr.

Robello?

FATHER: You see that gate in front of  you?

You cross it I’ll break your neck.

INSPECTOR: It's my job, Mr.

Robello.

I have to do it.

FATHER: You've been warned.

INSPECTOR: I'll bring the  Sheriff next time if I have to.

FATHER: You bring him then.

Bring the  whole damn police force if you like.

MOTHER: Manuel!

FATHER: You took one of my children.

You'll take nobody else from this house.

OLIVIA: They had a neighbor that worked as  a housekeeper here in the hospital.

This witch made sure that everybody in the  area knew their daughter was a patient here.

My mother almost had a nervous  breakdown.

But you know what happened?

That woman ended up getting infected herself  and becoming a patient here, too.

I know her name.

I see her every day.

But I won't tell you.

I  wouldn't do to her family what she's done to mine.

Mama and Papa, dear ones, you are the best  parents God ever gave anybody.

Your daughter, such as she is, may not be beautiful,  but my face might still be in pretty good shape in a few years’ time.

I'm  just not so sure about the rest of me.

So, when you die, and I hope that's not for  a very long time, please forgive me for not coming to your funerals.

I know you'll both love  me no matter what I look like but, I wouldn’t want to disgrace you in front of your friends.

Besides, I'll probably be locked up anyway.

In early June of 1937, after more than two and  a half years in Kalihi Hospital, I received bad news.

I mean really bad.

It is a letter that  kills any hope I have of ever getting well.

HOSPITAL OFFICIAL (OFFSTAGE) : Treatment is no  longer of any benefit to you.

This is to notify you that on Wednesday, June 30, 1937 you are  being sent to live on Moloka‘i, in Kalaupapa.

OLIVIA: Kalaupapa.

The very name strikes terror  throughout Hawai‘i.

It sounds like the end of the world, the very end.

I'm really scared.

I can't  help but wonder what my life will be like over there.

I've seen the old photos and heard all the  gossip.

I guess soon enough I'll know for sure.

LINDA: The only trail is guarded day  and night by deputy sheriffs with guns.

BETTY: Yeah, and they know  how for use them.

My cousin lives topside.

She said just last  month they went shoot one patient climbing up the Pali.

Never did find the  body.

Probably went feed ‘em to da pigs.

OLIVIA: What if I stayed off the trail?

LINDA: Those cliffs are way too steep to climb.

BETTY: Yeah.

Over two thousand feet.

OLIVIA: Well, how about a boat?

Couldn't I get out on one of those?

LINDA: Wise up, Olivia.

Nobody's gonna  take you on board.

And where would you go anyway?

They'd just hunt you  down and bring you right back.

BETTY: And no try for swim.

Even if  you were strong like Duke Kahanamoku, between the currents in the channel  and da sharks you'd be gone.

OLIVIA: I think to myself that might be better.

LINDA: Believe it, girl.

Once you get  sent to Kalaupapa, you stay in Kalaupapa.

OLIVIA: As time for leaving Honolulu grows closer, I have  my packing to do.

Pretty soon it'll be June 26th, June 27th, June 28th.

I think to myself, "Oh,  dear Lord, only a few more days to go before..." WOMAN CRYING (OFFSTAGE) OLIVIA: It's just before dawn now, June 29th,  and as of last night I've made a decision.

This is when me and Linda and Betty, my  fellow inmates, are going to run away.

BETTY: They'll give us  dirty lickins if we go AWOL.

LINDA: We'll get arrested by the Sheriff and put in jail for leaving the  grounds without permission.

OLIVIA: So what?

We're in jail already so what's  there to lose?

We sneak out before daylight.

What we don't know is that special watchmen have been  assigned to tail us so-called "troublemakers".

GUARD (OFFSTAGE) : AY, YOU!

AY you, Sistah!

OLIVIA: The hell with it, let's fly!

GUARD (OFFSTAGE) : AY!

AY, YOU!

GET OVAH HEA!

AY YOU, STOP!

OLIVIA: Through this broken place in the wall!

GUARD (OFFSTAGE) : COME ON BOYS,  LET’S GO!

AY YOU!

COME BACK OVAH HEA!

OLIVIA: No way they’re catching us!

GUARD (OFFSTAGE) : GET AFTER ‘EM!

WHERE YOU GOIN?

BETTY: Oh, we’ve fixed it now.

LINDA: Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for  us sinners, now and at the hour of death.

BETTY: Amen!

OLIVIA: Ah, are you two done?

LINDA & BETTY: Yeah.

OLIVIA: So, here's how we do it.

We each spend a few hours with our families eating ourselves sick  on saimin, pao duce and linguiça, then we'll meet up in the evening at the Hawaii  Theatre on Bethel Street for the 6:30 movie show.

LINDA: But that's right downtown.

OLIVIA: That's exactly where they won't expect us.

LINDA: Oh.

You’ve got this all figured out.

OLIVIA: I don't hear you  coming up with anything, Linda.

LINDA: But the guards,  they'll be out looking for us.

BETTY: Da hospital probably went already went  call in da cops.

They fine people you know, five hundred dollahs, for, whadda they call it?

LINDA: Aiding and abetting.

BETTY: Yeah, that.

Like real criminals.

OLIVIA: So that's what we are now?

LINDA & BETTY: Yeah!

OLIVIA: We'll stay in the theater 'til after dark.

LINDA: And then?

OLIVIA: And then we'll see.

LINDA: You call this a plan?

OLIVIA: I don't know about you but I'm  not just going to walk onto that ship tomorrow like some piece of cattle.

They're gonna have to catch me first.

You play so pretty, Papa.

Home all alone?

FATHER: They're at the fish market.

OLIVIA: You didn't want to go?

FATHER: You know me and fish.

OLIVIA: Eat no touch.

FATHER: Right.

Come closer to me girl.

You're too thin.

OLIVIA: That's what Momma said.

FATHER: And she's right.

OLIVIA: I run faster that way.

FATHER: Yeah and who taught you how,  ah?

Through the cane fields of Kaua‘i.

I should've come to see you in the  hospital.

I was wrong not to.

I'm sorry.

OLIVIA: Well, I'm here now, and that's  what matters.

How come you're not at work?

FATHER: They laid me off again.

OLIVIA: Again?

What for?

Oh.

FATHER: So, the hospital let you out?

Oh,  let me guess.

You let yourself out.

Yeah.

They can't keep a real  Portagee locked up for long.

OLIVIA: I got a letter.

FATHER: From who?

OLIVIA: The Board of Health.

FATHER: And?

OLIVIA: They're sending me away.

FATHER: When?

OLIVIA: Tomorrow.

FATHER: Where?

OLIVIA: Yes, Papa.

Over there.

Mama gave me this address.

Looks pretty nice.

FATHER: Yeah.

Nobody asks us  questions over here.

I have a garden, on the back, not as big as  the one in Kalihi but... OLIVIA: With cabbages?

FATHER: Yeah.

OLIVIA: Tomatoes?

FATHER: Yeah.

And green onions,  too.

Come, let’s go see.

OLIVIA: They're probably out looking for me.

FATHER: They know where we live?

OLIVIA: Trust me, the Board  of Health knows everything.

FATHER: You should stay.

Stay and wait for your mama, your brother and sisters.

Stay and  eat.

They goin’ come back pretty soon.

OLIVIA: I better not.

You can all  come see me off in the morning.

FATHER: Where?

OLIVIA: Pier Nine, at seven, the S.S.

Hawai‘i.

FATHER: That's a cattle boat, Olivia.

OLIVIA: So I've heard.

You'll be there?

FATHER: Yeah, yeah, yeah.

OLIVIA: After meeting up, Linda and Betty and I  each pay twenty-five cents from our duty money for admission and another twenty-five  cents each for three buttered popcorns, a Nehi Orange, two Dr.

Peppers,  a Bit-O-Honey, and an extra-large Tootsie Roll, which we all share.

Ah, the  air-conditioning feels like heaven in here, especially in the balcony where we like to  sit.

We love looking down at the red velvet drapes and the cherubs all painted in gold.

I'm looking forward to today's double bill, "Wee Willie Winkie" starring Shirley Temple  and "King Solomon's Mines" with Paul Robeson.

LINDA: My father says he's a communist.

BETTY: Who cares.

I love his voice.

OLIVIA: Me, too.

OLIVIA: During the first movie, Linda and  Betty and I start hearing men talking nearby.

CARL: Hey there pretty ladies.

OLIVIA: At first we don't answer.

This only  makes him and his buddy more aggressive.

HANK: Come on, darlin'.

We're USN.

We don't bite.

CARL: Yeah, not unless you bite us first?

OLIVIA: They aren't nasty or anything,  but I'm kinda worried anyway.

HANK: We're on shore leave from  Pearl Harbor.

You gals wanna go somewhere after the movie and  have an ice cream or something?

OLIVIA: I try to focus on Shirley Temple, but  it isn't easy.

The next thing I know these guys have moved up into our row and wedged themselves  between Linda and Betty, start chatting them up.

HANK: Pleased to meet you... LINDA: Linda.

HANK: Name's Hank, short for Henry,  but you better never call me that.

CARL: And what do they call  you little senorita?

Ah, I see.

You're one of them  shy, quiet Oriental types.

OLIVIA: Before I know it these sailors  are touching my girlfriends in the dark, I mean all over.

Linda seems  to be enjoying herself.

Betty, not really.

I wonder what my parents would  think of finding me in such a situation.

JOE: Hey, sorry about them.

You know how  it is, sailors on leave and all.

Hey, I've never been to Haywhy before.

It sure is a beautiful place.

OLIVIA: You're right.

It is.

JOE: Are you from here?

OLIVIA: I’m not from Honolulu.

I'm from  another island.

You ever heard of Kaua‘i?

JOE: Cow-ee-ee?

OLIVIA: Close enough.

THEATER PATRON (OFFSTAGE): Shuussh!

JOE: Sorry.

Hey, my name’s Joe.

OLIVIA: Olivia.

JOE: Nice to meet you.

OLIVIA: He seems nicer than his friends, polite  even.

What about you?

Where are you from?

JOE: Arizona.

You know, the place with  the battleship named after it.

Only, that's not the ship I'm on.

I'm on a  destroyer tender named the USS Dobbin.

OLIVIA: The other two sailors look over at  Joe when he tells me the name of his ship, like they really wish he hadn't done  that.

Pretty soon one of the guys says... HANK: We have a car but we don't know how to  get around.

How about showing us some sights?

CARL: It’s our last night on leave.

Whaddya say?

LINDA: We can't let these boys ship out without a little tour.

You used to do that  for a living, didn't you, Betty?

BETTY: It's not up to me.

OLIVIA: I don't like the idea at all but  what can we do?

We're on the lam tonight.

We've got to stick together.

On the way to  the car Linda, a real smart ass, says... LINDA: Hey, I know!

Let's drive out to Diamond  Head.

It's really pretty there and if you look out and the moon is bright enough you can  see Moloka‘i and maybe even Maui sometimes.

HANK: Just what the ship's  doctor ordered, eh Carl?

CARL: Precisely.

LINDA: Oooo, a convertible.

OLIVIA: Pretty soon we pull up to Diamond Head lookout.

LINDA: This is where people come  to watch the submarine races, Hank.

HANK: The what?

LINDA: You know.

The submarine races.

OLIVIA: Hank has no clue what  she's talking about until he sees the dozens of parked cars with dozens  of couples wrapped around each other.

HANK: I think I see one them damn submarines  cruisin' around out there right now!

LINDA: Hey, I know.

Let's walk down to  the beach by the lighthouse.

There's hardly ever anyone there at night so we can  drink all those Primo beers you boys got.

HANK: Sounds like a great plan to me.

Fellas?

CARL: I'm in.

Joe?

JOE: Why not?

CARL: Let's go then.

OLIVIA: When get down to the end of the  road Linda and Hank grab some bottles and a blanket and run to the sand.

CARL: Whaddya say you and I get to know  each other a little better, China doll?

OLIVIA: Betty heads down to the beach with  her sailor boy, Carl, a name I'd like to forget.

I look out to sea, towards Moloka‘i.

There's no seeing it in the dark tonight but I know it's there, not so far away.

JOE: Aye-loha!

OLIVIA: You're saying it wrong on purpose now.

JOE: I am not.

I just can't  speak Haywayan that's all.

OLIVIA: I’m glad Joe isn't like the other two.

It feels like God is watching over me tonight, knowing what's going to  happen to me in the morning.

JOE: Here.

Is that better?

OLIVIA: Yes.

Mahalo.

JOE: Mahu?

OLIVIA: Mahalo.

It means thank you in Hawaiian.

JOE: Oh, well mahaylo to you, too, then.

OLIVIA: I think you're a pretty nice  guy, Joe, you know, for a sailor.

JOE: I think you're a pretty nice  girl, too, Olivia, for a Haywayan.

OLIVIA: I'm not Hawaiian.

I'm Portuguese.

JOE: Oh, well, if you're one of them Portogays  you must be all right.

Hey, you want a beer?

OLIVIA: No thank you.

JOE: You can have the first sip  of mine if that's all you want.

OLIVIA: I am kinda thirsty, but, oh, that's okay.

JOE: So, you must be what, eighteen, nineteen?

OLIVIA: Me?

I just turned twenty-one.

JOE: Oh, really?

You look a lot younger than that.

OLIVIA: I'm not sure if I  should thank you or be mad.

JOE: So, do you go to school  or you work or something?

OLIVIA: …Or something.

JOE: All right.

The lady has her secrets.

OLIVIA: Just a few.

HANK & LINDA LAUGHING (OFFSTAGE) OLIVIA: That would be Linda and Hank.

I'm worried that someone up at the Coast Guard Station will hear them and  call the police.

That's when I hear... (BETTY SCREAMS) CARL: HEY!

JOE: What the hell, Carl!

CARL: You know what these… You  know what they've got, don't ya?

OLIVIA: It sounds weird to  Joe, the way Carl puts it, but I know what this sailor  means.

I know what's coming next.

CARL: These girls, these girls  got freekin’ leprosy, man!

OLIVIA: It feels like the sand under my  feet is caving in and all the devils in the underworld are laughing themselves sick.

JOE: Is this the truth, Olivia?

OLIVIA: Yes, but you don't have  to worry.

We're not infectious.

HANK: What the hell's going on?

OLIVIA: Carl tells them.

And  that, as they say, is that.

JOE: Please get in the back seat, the three of you.

CARL: The hell they are!

Leave  these freekin’ witches here to rot.

I don't want them in the goddamn car with us.

OLIVIA: The thought of being stranded  out here at Diamond Head, miles away from the hospital, will only add to the dirty  lickins we're already in for being AWOL.

JOE: We can't just leave them here.

Ah, no  way.

We'll drop them off where they say.

CARL: You and Hank drop 'em off if you like.

I'm takin’ a cab back to freekin’ Pearl!

JOE: The hell you are!

You'll stick with us  or I'll bash your frickin’ head in for ya.

OLIVIA: By this time Linda is having  nothing more to do with Betty.

She looks at her with more hatred than I've  ever seen one woman show another.

LINDA: You had to mess this up for of us,  didn't you, Betty, our last little bit of fun.

OLIVIA: Not a word is spoken on the  long trip back through Waikīkī.

The drive seems to go on forever as we head  down the Ala Wai Canal to McCully Street to Kapi‘olani to Dillingham Boulevard  then past the Dole Pineapple Factory.

CARL: What if my freekin’ pecker falls off?

HANK: Did she touch you there?

CARL: No, but she held my hand  and then, well, I touched myself.

(LINDA LAUGHS) OLIVIA: I can tell from the look on Joe's  face that he's trying to make the best of it.

But it isn’t easy for him.

The  whole thing is such a giant mess.

BETTY: He was trying for take my clothes off,  Olivia.

I told him no but he no listen.

The only way I know how for keep his hands off me was for  tell him da truth about us.

I sorry.

I so sorry.

(CARL LUNGES FOR BETTY.

BETTY SCREAMS.)

OLIVIA: I'm really scared now.

What if this one  drunk guy gets his way?

We'll be found killed and dumped in the cane fields or wherever men leave  young girls they have no use for anymore.

When we get about a block away from the hospital, I  ask Joe… Please, could drop us off right here?

In the second or two before Hank guns the  engine and the car takes off, Joe looks at me.

JOE: Hey, take care, Olivia.

Everything'll be all right.

CARL: Yeah, and drop dead, too!

OLIVIA: Nobody talks.

What is there to say?

We duck between the keawe trees every time a car comes down Pu‘uhale Road, hide our  eyes from the headlights.

By the time we reach the front gate at Kalihi Hospital it's all  locked up.

So we sneak back in the way we left, through the broken place in the wall, then back  into our beds.

It's strange.

My room has become so dear to me after more than two years.

I want  to hug every building in this awful place.

I want to hide in the bushes where the plumeria and  the ginger grow and stay there until the end of time.

I think of chaining myself to the railing  so they can't take me away.

Anything to keep from facing what tomorrow will bring.

In just a few  hours, my family will be at Pier 9.

They'll bring leis which they will place on a table for me  to pick up.

I will throw the flowers overboard, hoping that they'll float back to shore as a  sign that maybe someday I'll return.

As the S.S.

Hawai‘i gets under way the crew will remove  the heavy canvas hiding us from view.

Some of the people on board will get seasick, but not  me.

I know that the trade winds will soon carry off the smell of the cattle that came  before us.

As we make for open water we'll pass by Diamond Head.

Pretty soon after that, the  shores of O‘ahu will get farther and farther away, disappearing altogether as we sail towards  a totally unknown future.

After a few hours in the channel, we'll see Moloka‘i, the  low hills, the tall, majestic cliffs.

So tall, like prison walls made of green.

Well, enough of  this imagining.

Only God knows what's in store for me tomorrow.

I'll have to leave it in His hands.

Until then I just stand here, trying to remember while trying to forget.

I think maybe I better get  some sleep.

Soon enough it will be shipment day.

HANK: Olivia arrived on Moloka‘i on June 30, 1937.

CARL: She lived and worked in the Hansen's  disease settlement there for almost 70 years.

LINDA: She married the love of her life,  fellow patient John Breitha, on March 12, 1945.

BETTY: They ran a prosperous chicken and egg  farm in Kalaupapa until John's death in 1973.

MOTHER: Olivia's unbroken spirit  transformed our girl from a "victim" into an internationally  recognized social activist.

FATHER: Her memoir, "My  Life of Exile in Kalaupapa", was published in 1988 and remains in print.

OLIVIA (OFFSTAGE): Olivia died on September 28, 2006 at the age of 90, and is buried  in Kalaupapa, next to her husband John.

(APPLAUSE AND CHEERS) (MUSIC)