This week marks the centennial of the Sorokdo National Hospital... or Sorokdo Island...
once home to the largest leper colonies in the world.
One century later...
the roughly 540 former leprosy patients there have begun to see light at the end of the
tunnel.
This is their story... of finding peace and grace through abject sorrow and isolation.
The final of my two-part series.
"The church has an extra place for all those living in Sorokdo Island.
After generations of pain and suffering and disdain, it's only through their religious
faiths that they've come to find peace, hope, and forgiveness to carry on their lives."
After decades of isolation and brutality... today...
life for more than 5-hundred former lepers in Sorokdo Island is more or less serene.
Every morning, they ride their motorized scooters to church...
most spend time at the church praying and reflecting.
They attend mass, sing hymns and pray... the best way they can with their disfigured bodies.
Conducting the mass for the people of Sorokdo is Father Kim Yeon-jun, the only Catholic
priest on the island.
"The lepers here had no reason to live.
There were many suicide attempts which is why religion became such an important part
of their lives.
Religious faith is the reason for life itself.
It gives them something to look forward to - an afterlife that will compensate for the
dreadful sufferings in this life."
But, overcoming the indescribable anguish and dismay did not come easily, he adds.
It would not have been possible without the sacrifice and dedication of two extraordinary
"grannies."
"Most lepers here were abandoned by family in their teens... when they most need mother's
care.
That's what they were.
Mothers from Austria.
They never received a penny.
They came to Korea when they were 25, 26 years old and spent 40 years on foreign land as
pure volunteers.
Marianne and Margaret."
Marianne Stoeger and Margaret Pissar, fresh out of nursing school in Austria, left home
in 1962 to serve leprosy patients in this tiny island...
part of a country they only knew by name, Korea.
When they arrived, there were 6-thousand patients and 2-hundred young children, and little in
the way of medicines or staff to help them in their work.
"Granny Marianne?
I've never seen her because I'm blind.
But I miss her dearly.
Back then, life was very difficult here.
We rarely had anything to eat.
But, every morning, Granny Marianne would come door to door and spoon feed warm milk
to all of us.
Milk, clothes, socks..."
"Marianne and Margaret brought huge changes to our lives.
When no one else wanted to touch our wounds even with gloves on, they treated our bleeding
wounds with their bare hands.
They came and touched us, took care of us like no other had ever before.
One time, I was infected with tetanus and almost died.
Sister Marianne took me to her own care and nursed me day and night... and I lived."
And, one day in 2005... when they turned 70 years old...
Marianne and Margaret just picked up and left...
without farewells... only with the single suitcase they came with four decades earlier.
In memory and appreciation of the decades of love and service they received, the people
of Sorokdo decided to preserve the two grannies' house just the way they left behind.
For 40 years, they lived in this house.
So plain and simple.
This place has been preserved exactly the way it was left behind.
Love.
Humble-minded.
They carried on a very humble life.
Through the love and sacrifice of these "grannies" and decades of despair and sorrow... the lepers
here tell me, the days of isolation and fear are fading.
Years of neglect have been followed by peace and dignity.
"This 4-kilometer pathway circling the island along the seaside was built in 1938 by then
leprosy patients living on this land.
They had 20 days to complete this guardway with nothing but picks, shovels, and their
bare wounded hands.
It's a painful reminder of the agony and suffering that they had to go through but nearly eight
decades later, the islanders have named this pathway the 'Way to Healing.'"
"I don't think it's right to feel sorry for the people of Sorokdo... to look at them with
pity.
I hope they can be perceived as brave survivors who overcame their tremendous pain and sorrow
and found peace and grace... who can provide consolation to the rest of the world."
Because...
small wounds are healed when they meet big wounds.