Helping on the outside

By Vicki Viotti
Advertiser Staff Writer

Illustration by Greg Taylor • The Honolulu Advertiser Kako'o 'Ohana Pa'ahao meetings 6:30 p.m. Fridays Queen Lili'uokalani Children's Center, 1300 Halona St. 678-0693; or e-mail: lahaina47@aol.com

The grand exception to the rule arises when there are actual bars involved. As in prison bars. And if there are, other rules come into play as well.

Anna Su'a wasn't thinking much about rules when she visited a male friend at the O'ahu Community Correctional Center for the first time, two years ago. She had on a top that was a little low-cut.

"I didn't know the dress code until I started looking around at the other people, and saw they bring extra clothes," she said. "I felt really uncomfortable."

The embarrassment and frustration over having to go home and change was only the tip of the iceberg of emotions.

"I didn't know what to expect," she added. "My first fear was, 'Oh, no, I'm going to be here with a lot of offenders.'

"Then you see the other families, and you're all going through double doors. There's something about those doors. You hear the door click, and you have to open another door."

Incarceration is meant for convicts, but prison walls can encompass loved ones, too, said Marian Tsuji, deputy director in charge of corrections with the state Department of Public Safety.

"It's the offender that's getting punished, not the family member," Tsuji said. "But there are the societal stereotypes: 'Oh, that's your husband, what must that say about you?'"

Today is the first anniversary of Kako'o 'Ohana Pa'ahao, a group that Su'a helped start in an attempt to make prison less trying for loved ones of those locked inside. The support group is composed of more than 100 members, some of whom attend the weekly meetings at the Queen Lili'uokalani Children's Center in Kapalama. It provides a place for people to talk about advocating for their loved one, about the simple pain of separation, about everything they feel unable to share with anyone who's not in their boat.

This is a sizeable but largely silent population. The average adult population in Hawai'i prisons and those transferred to out-of-state facilities totals about 4,700, according to state figures for fiscal year 2000.

Most of the group members The Advertiser approached were unwilling to talk publicly for this story; one of the exceptions is Terry Low, mother of a 26-year-old just home for a month after being paroled.

The worst was the fear when he was sent away to Prairie Correctional Facility in Appleton, Minn. Low said she worried about everything, not the least of which was his treatment by adult corrections officers.

Her mind was put at ease on one of her "video visits," a videoconference held at a local church, in which her son was able to tell her that the guards treated the prisoners well at Prairie. It was also at this conference that she met Su'a, then the Kako'o president, and joined the group. Low is now its secretary.

"What I like about the group is we share our anxieties, our worries," she said. "We try to support each other, like a shoulder to lean on."

Roland Kauanui, the group's co-chairman, was released a year ago. As an ex-offender, he helps members by sharing his own insights about prison realities. And the group reciprocates with support for him.

"It helps me to keep my mind straight," Kauanui said.

Hula video drew callers

It all began with a hula.

Hawai'i prisoners who had been transferred to Prairie formed a hula halau and created a series of three videos about their troupe.

The videos found their way home when one of the men sent the tapes to a friend, Lynette Cruz, best known locally as a Native Hawaiian activist. She contacted –lelo, cable TV's community-access channels, and got them on the air; the tapes were broadcast starting in June 2000.

Then the phone calls started coming in, and Cruz served as a liaison to the fledgling group that started forming.

The video had touched a nerve. There were not only a few phone calls, Cruz said.

"Just from the first program I would say there were between 75 and 100," she said. "After a while I just stopped counting and started referring all callers to Anna Su'a, the chair of our support group."

Cruz had taught several of the men classes in film and ethnic identity while they were at Halawa Medium Security Correctional Facility. She felt a special bond to the men and then, by extension, to the family members who poured out their hearts over the phone after seeing the program.

"Mostly they had sons or husbands in prison," she said. "Every single person would cry. They have to get past the 'owie' part."

Inmates and their families have had other support groups, generally aimed at specific criminal histories (drug abuse or sex offenders), or at rehabilitation after release.

However, there had been no group offering general support for families of those now imprisoned as well as ex-offenders.

"Nobody thought about it," Cruz added. "And, who cares? Throw-away people, right?"

On the agenda

Su'a, Low and Cruz are among the members who meet regularly to discuss, for example, which corrections bills to support at the Legislature or what to include in an informational packet for new family members. The current project that has their attention is the establishment of a family center, at either OCCC or Halawa, that would reach out to families who are new to the whole process.

The center would be staffed by volunteers, who could meet with families on visiting days, normally the best way to contact loved ones most in need of support.

"I think a family needs information most of all," Su'a said. "There would be someone there with extra clothes. If they're wearing dresses, they shouldn't be above the knee. You can't wear see-through clothes, can't wear a low-cut top, no spaghetti straps. You can't even have ruffles, because these can always be ripped and used as a weapon.

"You can't bring in pens or watches, because they can be taken apart and used by the inmate. The only thing they would allow you is your wedding band, or if you're religious, you can wear a cross. Jade bracelets that can't be taken off with soap are allowed."

All of this is useful to know, but families also need advice on weightier matters. Sometimes relatives need to know how to help their loved one to avoid trouble after parole. Low finds herself in that situation with her son.

"It's helped me find out what programs are out there, how he can get back into society," Low said. "And when we have guest speakers" — from the parole board, prosecutor's office, public defender — "it gives us more knowledge on what our kids are doing wrong, what we can do to help."

Parents are filled with anxiety over how to get their grown children righted again, Su'a said.

"I had a phone call at 4 a.m.," Su'a said. "A woman called and said, 'What am I going to do?' Her son had asked for money. I just turned around and told her, 'Just say no ... if you send them the money, you're enabling them, you're not teaching them."

There are never any easy answers, Tsuji said, but it helps simply to have a place for asking questions.

"Just being in a place where you can openly say, 'My child, or my husband, is in prison,' that in itself can be cathartic," she said.