have been a missionary in Africa for about 30 years.
At first I was hesitant and perplexed: given my limits, I was asking
myself what I could do and give to this country – Burundi, in the heart of
Africa – which seemed to need so much. A
wise older missionary told me, “Just love them, and everything else will
follow,” and I never forgot it.
Burundi was my first mission experience (1969-1981). I tried to approach this people with interest, respect and love. I struggled much to learn their melodious, but hard for me, language.
I felt welcome and loved by the Barundi, as these people are called. Obviously, they were so different from me: their language, mentality and culture…, but I looked upon this diversity as a gift and as a source of mutual enrichment. Diversity seen as “one-completing-the-other” is a gift; seen as rivalry, it leads to conflict and aggression.
I lived with them, and with them I shared the tragic years of war between Tutsis and Hutus, all of them Barundi (early 70’s). The conflict between these two tribes witnessed many episodes of hatred, cruelty and injustice but also acts of heroism and of love: many chose to be killed rather than kill. They were the seeds of hope for a better future.
Should I look at mystery from a merely human point of view, I would see myself a failure. I was, in fact, expelled from Burundi; in the Congo, my mission was destroyed and the refugees I was assisting were dispersed or killed. Nonetheless, I choose to go back because I still hope for a better future for the Africans.
Care of the sick was another positive factor. As an improvised nurse in a time of emergency, I came in close contact with the other person and entered into a deeper dialogue with my neighbor. When you see a man or a woman closely and carefully, you can always begin to feel pity and compassion - that is a quality God’s image carries with it.
I also went through the painful experience of being expelled from the country in 1981. We missionaries were thrown out because we were defending the most defenseless people and because we were in the way of those wielding power. But our people wept as they saw us leaving.
My Africa experience, however, did not end there but it continued in Zaire, now the Democratic Republic of Congo. Still in the heart of Africa, it is a different Africa in customs, culture and traditions. A new challenge and a new people to know, respect and love. There I have known the simple life of villagers in the African forest, the great distances, the discomforts of traveling in a country where roads do not exist or have been destroyed. There I have witnessed the goodness of many African women capable of giving themselves daily to their community, matter of-factly and with a smile.
Africans have helped me to discover the value of the people around me, the value of hospitality, of listening to the other. In the Africa of the Great Lakes, torn by war and tormented by misery, I have found the Joy of Life!
From 1994 to ’97, I lived among the refugees from Rwanda and Burundi settled in immerse tent-camps near the border cities. The refugee tragedy has been badly handled because of conflicting political and economic reasons even of the big powers: their paw was always in the chow. So, refugees needed to be removed for security reasons away from the frontiers, and they were not.
Armed bands ready to attack and assault needed to be separated from the peaceful population, and they were not. Politicians and strongmen fattened themselves on the immense foreign aid received, and nothing was done to stop this. The international community sent abundant food and supplies for the refugees, but kept hands off when the same were being massacred by the hundreds.
Incredible was the number of the refugees, and many were forced to return to their country or origin, some 1 million and 300 thousand of them. We lost track of what happened to them. I do know that many chose to continue running for their life. Those caught by the rebels, of either side, were killed, including women and children… The common graves and the dead bodies scattered along the wayside and the paths in the forest will keep on crying out for condemnation against those responsible for such a tragedy, against those who, though knowing, did not speak out, and against those who could have stopped it and did nothing.
Should I look at mystery from a merely human point of view, I would see myself a failure. I was, in fact, expelled from Burundi; in the Congo, my mission was destroyed and the refugees I was assisting were dispersed or killed.
Nonetheless, I choose to go back to my mission because I want to be with my people… because I love them! I choose to go back because I still hope for a better future for the Africans. I choose to go back because I read my failures in the light of the Gospel. I choose to go back to my people because I want to tell them, a people tired and martyred by hunger, war, fear, misery and death, that there can be joy even in the midst of all of that, if Jesus is not missing.
(From Xaverian Mission Newsletter)