Frances H. Kakugawa
From “Echoes of Kapoho,”
Published with Permission

Memoir writers are often accused of invading the privacy of others. “Did you write about me?” readers ask. “Is that woman my neighbor?” “Who were you writing about in that story?”
When my book “Kapoho: Memoir of a Modern Pompeii” was released in 2011, I feared I had invaded Kapoho’s privacy. We all knew each other in the village; we didn’t need names to recognize the players. There were only two families who had sent someone to the leper colony on Molokai, and I had written about them. There was only one family whose child had died after a tonsillectomy at age five, and I had written about that child’s mother. There was only one family with a bicycle, and I had written about them.

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