LOCKED UP
Too many prison bars for Hawaiians hurt everyone, say pa'ahao supporters

By Liza Simon / Ka Wai Ola

Statistics don't usually trigger emotion, but at last month's conference on pa'ahao convened by OHA at the Pagoda Hotel, there were gripping moments occasioned by these hard numbers on hard time: Recent studies show that Native Hawaiians account for 39 percent of the state's prison population, while they comprise less than 10 percent of the state's overall population. One after another, the local experts in prison programs struggled to explain the dismal numbers by pouring out wrenching descriptions of a tragic perfect storm of cultural loss – mixed in with resulting poverty and limited access to education, jobs and health care – played out in the lives of their Native Hawaiian clients.

Earlier this year, OHA asked the Legislature to pass a resolution to conduct a study on whether ethnicity drives disparities in arrests, prosecutions and sentencing in Hawai'i. The bill didn't get far. But the attendees at the 'Aha Pa'ahao would like to see more political will behind the effort to reduce the alarming stats. They said we should all be concerned, because locking up so many Hawaiians costs everyone – both taxpayer money and the pain of spiritual loss that happens when a group is prevented from realizing its human potential. They want the public to understand that help for pa'ahao is also intended to heal the entire community. This viewpoint is also shared below by current and former pa'ahao who talked with KWO about programs where they found hope.

Carmelita Maldonado. - Photo: Liza Simon

By Liza Simon / Ka Wai Ola

Even though she travels across town to start her shift at a local supermarket at 3 a.m., Carmelita Maldonado is thrilled to be back at work. “I have a federal prison record, so I really have to get out there and sell myself to employers. I am honest and tell people where I've been and I just ask for a chance to prove myself.”

Maldonado, the youngest of 12 children from Hawaiian homestead land, walks the talk of a good work ethic, as evidenced by the way she has put together an original booklet of help-lines and social service agencies to benefit other former pa'ahao. Still, after serving a 26-month sentence for drug-related charges, she was disappointed when the only job she landed was in a retail store that stuck her on the loading dock to do heavy lifting.

She kept searching and finally got some much needed direction from the ex-offender program at Alu Like Inc., which provides Native Hawaiians and other indigenous groups with life-skills support. This can range from resume-writing help to ho'oponopono with family members. It's all-important to a former prisoner, said Maldonado. “You walk out of the detention center with only the clothes on your back, no money, no medical and no home. Why do you think so many ex-felons just give up, go back to the streets and end up back in jail? There's programs (inside prison), but they just reinforce this feeling of being a loser,” she said.

At Alu Like, she said, program manager Lovey Slater seemed to really understand that many ex-prisoners don't want a handout: “I had always been the Mommy who did everything for others. I had a job driving Handi-Van and I provided for my family.” She said she got involved with selling drugs, because she thought the fast money would help her family. Now she feels bad when she passes homeless people, figuring her crime only made the community worse. “The day I was caught, I secretly felt relief.”

Aunty Lovey reminds her to move on by asking: “Okay, honey, what are you going to do for yourself?” At Lovey's urging, Maldonado has put together a plan and is considering returning to school for job training that will bump up her low wage.

She looks back and wonders why so many hard-working Hawaiians like herself end up in prison. “I mentally accepted this while I was on the inside, because if you start to question too much, you will go crazy.” But now she does what she can to encourage those who share her ethnicity to check out the Alu Like ex-offender program, because the people there seem to understand that ex-pa'ahao are normal and hard-working – with one major difference perhaps in the way they are appreciative of every little opportunity, she said, sharing this surprising example: “Once at a prison release program, we got caught outside in the rain. We were laughing and crying because it felt so good just to be standing there – outside.” For information on the Alu Like Inc., Ex-Offender Program, go to www.alulike.org.