By Fr. Efren de Guzman, SVD

Eventhough it’s Christmas, the tragedies of Angola continue. But it’s because of a Mother and her Baby, that Fr. Efren sees hopes and struggles on. Please red his diary and asked yourself how you can help him and his companions.

PEACE

Peace to you his Christmas! I don’t have anything to give you in the material sense; what I’m offering you in my own self. Allow me to start my sharing by telling you some recent events and experiences here in Angola.

OCTOBER

Oct 4 (Wednesday) Tres Caras: 35 kilometers from the capital Luanda. Some drunk soldiers fired on four farmers, while that latter were sleeping in their houses. I attended their funeral. My Pastor –friend said during the funeral: “Today is a new day. With God’s help we can begin again. For we are in the land of a new beginning: ANGOLA. A new dawn of God’s light will shine on our path.”

Oct 7 (Saturday) Casas Novas: 30 kilometers from Luanda. An accident occurred in which 47 men and women were injured, but no deaths reported. We brought the injured to the hospital. It happened where the truck, running at great speed and bearing some 60 passengers, flipped over three times on the on the rugged highway. None of the babies got hurt! It’s miracle! One mother-catechist said, “Through this miracle our lives are enriched by the experience of God’s love to the little ones.”

Oct 10 (Tuesday) Evening: An encounter took place between the police and government soldiers in Kitangondo. After the fight, they immediately buried the fatalities – and some say, even the wounded – so that nobody would get to know about it. One of our caretakers named Silva, an orphan, was wounded, but not seriously. He said, “I can live with this wound for this blood is preparing me to meet my Maker.”

Oct 18: We, the catechist and teachers, celebrated the birthday of a Filipino Holy Spirit Sister, Sr. Evelyn Jose. We remembered her words: “For everything we should be grateful to God.”

NOVEMBER

Nov 5: While driving by car at the 5th Avenue, near the Convent of the Holy Spirit Sister, my mind suddenly went blank, losing track of time and not knowing where I was. I think this sudden experience of a black out of the mind is one of the debilitating effects of malaria. Good thing I knew, I still managed to stop the car and park it on the far side of the road. Next thing I know I was, weeping and many people were gathering around me, asking me what’s wrong, what happened. And then suddenly a thought just came over me: “Remember those people who love you.” You are one of those I thought of during that moment and inspired me to get hold of myself again.

Nov. 1 – 14: Our team continued to hold formation programs for the new and old catechists in Cacuaco, there were sixty-four participants who attended this activity.

Nov. 10 (Friday) we heard the sad news that Sr. Paula, one of ours sisters in Huila in the Southern part of Angola, was killed by the bandits in their retreat house. Three times I gave a retreat in their house. She was one of the most supportive and kind people around. We remember her in our prayers and reflections.

Nov. 15 (Wednesday): The representatives of the seven communities of farmers held a meeting in Kanangga (around 67 kilometers from Luanda). We discussed two main points: (1) The rampant attacks of the soldiers on the village, taking away with them the hard – gained harvest of the farmers. (2) The challenge of continuing to work after harvest. “A quitter never wins, a winner never quits.”

Nov. 16 (Thursday). Around eight o’clock in the evening, drunk soldiers entered our Leper Colony, disarmed the guard and terrorized the lepers and orphans. Because of this incident, I thought it was necessary that I myself, with the help of the volunteers, would guard the place at night. I then filed my complaint with the commander of the soldiers who were stationed in the area of Bengo. As usual, what I got from him was a promise that this thing would never happen again. It’s not the first time that the leper colony was terrorized by the soldiers, who are always drunk.

DECEMBER

Dec. 3 On our way back to the Parish of Santo Antonio in Kifanggondo (25 kms. from Luanda), after taking a Holy Spirit aspirant sister to their convent in Funda (40 kms away from Luanda). We were already halfway between Kifanggondo and Funda, passing our Leprosaria, when we encountered two soldiers on the road (one of then was in the middle of the road, the other on thee far right side facing us), with their machine guns (AKA) aimed at us, they were already so close to us when we saw them that we didn’t have time anymore to avoid them or back off.

Attempting to elude them, I wheeled the Toyota Land Cruiser to the far left side of the road. That exposed the right side of the car to fire. At that moment, one of the soldiers (the one in the middle) took one step forward, lowered his AKA, and started shooting at us. Instinctively we ducked. For five seconds or so bullets were all over us. Shattering the side-window, bullets whizzed past just inches above our heads; two or three bullets slightly touched my head; one gazed the upper bask of Raymun. Since the firing was done indiscriminately, the bullets ricocheted in all directions. One bullet coming from behind on the right pierced the underside of the chassis of the car and hit Raymun in the foot. With the car now further on, from his AKA one of the soldiers launched a grenade, fragments of which hit the right and underside of the vehicle. A splinter slightly grazed my thigh, and broken pieces of glass landed on my head.

Allow me to close by saying that no matter how difficult and challenging our work and service for God’s people, let us always look for reasons to give thanks to the Lord. Let us look forward and move ahead, knowing that God’s grace will always be with us. Let me thank you for your continual support in our mission work. You are always in my prayers.
Merry Christmas and a Blessed New Year.

By Sr. M. Nenitas Derama, PDDM

This is my third Christmas in Germany, and it’s only now that I am beginning to understand the beautiful preparations that they make during Advent. At first, I found them all too hard and austere, especially on Christmas Day when no one could be seen on the streets and there is no sound. Everything is silent. ‘Wala man lang paputok at putukan.’

Advent

Christmas starts with the first Sunday of advent, and on that Saturday (the day before) at 4:30 A.M. all the bells of the chit churches are rung for 30 minutes. In Frankfurt the sound is do majestic, especially the bells of the Cathedral, which was once the seat of the Emperor’s Coronation. People came from far and near. They walk silently to hear the bells of the city. They meditate on the event that is about to come, as heralded by the bells. During the first week of Advent, they now begin to put up their Belen, adding different figures with particular messaged on them according to the liturgy each week of Advent, then once a week until Christmas, is the so-called Rasate Messe, which is similar to our Misa de Aguinaldo. After the mass their is breakfast with church people. During the breakfast we discuss different important issues in the church and in the world.
During these four weeks they prepare themselves thoroughly for the reception of the Word made flesh through a series of homilies, concerts, meditations; and also worked for the poor like the Christmas Weichmarths basar, the proceeds of which go to the Mission or to the homeless.

Magical Preparation

The people prepare themselves profoundly, and together with this preparation are the so-called Christmas markets in all cities, where in the evening families from near and far go to have their feast; they eat, drink and have merrymaking, like carnival time. But all these feasts happen an almost silent way, without yelling, shouting; you do not hear loud music. So, the feasting really is part of the preparation; come Christmas Day they no longer outside. They stay at home with their families and meditate on the event before the Belen. This year I have been truly enriched, for I now understand the meaning of their preparation, their Advent.

By Sr. Redempta Twoney

The baby who was born in a cave; the family who could not afford place in the Inn. We think of these at Christmas, but then sometimes we lose part of the message in the midst of the dazzling light of the angels and the sound of music. Sr. Redempta uses a gospel parable to explain the meaning to us Jesus’ call to stretch out to the poor.

There was once a rich man who, like many others, spent money on beautiful clothes and relished the gourmet dishes served him every day. Maybe it was the rich food or the high living, but in any case he died and went straight down to a place” where he was in torment.” in the hell of sufferings he look up, and who did he see far away with the great and holy Abraham but the poor smelly wretch who used to lie outside his place.

The shocking thing about this story which Jesus tells in Luke 16 is that the rich man is not accused of cruelty to the beggar Lazarus, of being violent towards him, of having him beaten up or thrown out. His sin was that he took no notice of him at all, that he was in different to his plight.

Maybe that man started off well. Did he listen to the Word of God? Bout then as life went on and he accumulated wealth, did he become choked by riches and pleasured and so fail to produce “mature fruit?” (Lk. 8:14). The story does not picture him as being cruel or oppressive, or tell that he was in any way a bad or evil man, he simply enjoyed a very comfortable life and left the rest of the would go by. “You go your way and I’ll go my way “could be his motto. His wealth insulated him from the misery which lay outside his door.

That kind of immorality, indifference to the suffering of others, is what we must struggle against today if we want to avoid the same fate as the rich man in the story. “The poor you have always with you,” (Mk. 14:7) our Lord told us, and we are undoubtedly more conscious of the millions of people who live on the margins of life today, who barely exist. Their numbers are overwhelming, and we can feel crushed by the enormity of the pain and suffering of people. Seeing the gaunt, emaciated faces of the victims of disease or famine of our television screens, w want to reach our and help them, but all too often we don’t know how. “Isn’t it terrible,” we say, and we leave it at that. But that is not enough.

“If you remain indifferent in time of adversity, your strength will depart from you. Rescue those who are being daggled to death, and from those tottering to execution withdraw not. If you say, ‘I know not this man!’ does not he who tests heats perceive it? (Proverbs 24: 10-12)” How many are being dragged to death today, because their chronic poverty deprives them of food or medicines? How many are being relentlessly executed by the World Debts? Don’t think you are uninvolved, that this is a problem of others. Read the text farm the Book of Proverbs again. This is a tie of adversity; it is the time of choice, may the Lord enable us to be His true followers and guide us in the way of justice and peace.

It is important we begin where we are, in our own locality. As we pray for guidance and read the stories of the gospel, we will grow in deeper understanding of our Lord’s great compassion and identification with the poor. We ask him to give us a heart like His. Real prayer will lead to action for justice. It will waken us up to what is going on, to the injustice pertaining society’s structures, the injustice which ensures that many are able to “be dressed in purple garments and fine linen,” able to “dine sumptuously each day,” because others are poor.

By Sr. Emma De Guzman, ICM

This a photo story of two Filipinos – one visible in the pictures one not visible – because she was holing the camera. These photos tell the story of Andy Gunzalo, CICM from Bauko, Mt. Province, and how he was ordained Deacon in Cameroon by Cameroonian Bishops Mons. Jerome Mimboe Owono. Behind the camera is veteran missionary Sr. Emma de Guzman (sister of Fr. Efren de Guzman SVD in Angola)

By Fr. Luis Sabarre, OMI

I remember the first Christmas I spent away from home in 1982, when I was sent to a small town to say the midnight mass. I thought that Christmas would be the same as I used to experience in my own place back home in the Philippines. I really missed the Christmas Carols I had learned and had sung when I was a small boy. I felt homesick for the first time.

Invitation and Surprise

A few years after I had mastered the Spanish language a bit I was invited to celebrate Christmas Eve with Filipino community in the Ambassador’s residence in Buenos Aires. For the celebration I tried to recall some Christmas song in my local Filipino language, but, to my surprise, I could not finish singing even one. I was embarrassed at myself and, to top it all, I was supposed to say the mass in Tagalog. Seeing that the community came from different regions of the country, I tried my best to switch from Cebuano to Tagalog to Ilonggo in prayers, in my homily, and some songs that I could remember at the moment.

Filipino Food

In spite of the lack of preparation for a meaningful celebration in a completely Filipino community, we did not feel really away from home. At the reception, the table was filled with typical. Filipino food such as pancit, lumpia dinugoan – which I for one, had not tasted for a long time, we gathered around the table after the mass and shared the sumptuous meal, beautifully arranged food we all longed for.

Nostalgia

For a moment, I felt nostalgic. In the midst of our sharing, I remembered how on the same time occasion our family back home gathered together for the noche buena. A missionary away from home needs to have an open mind to accept the consequences of being away from home and to sacrifice his deepest feelings for his own family, customs and traditions.

Present and Future

After almost 14 years in this land of the gauchos (Argentian cowboys), being with married couples, young people in love, and family movements, I have learned to be come part of them. We get together to share our life, enjoy each other in free walks, caminatas, and support each other in pilgrimages and home visits. At this stage in my life, I feel happy at the way God has been leading me. I hope to continue the journey.

By Vic Apacible

The deal I made that Christmas led to my “accidental” vocation.

I had a normal childhood, adolescence and early adulthood spent in San Juan. Besides Sunday Mass I had no time for spiritual matters. I finished dentistry at the UERMA in Sta. Mesa in 1985 and passed the dental board exam the following year, after which my dentist-cousin offered me a partnership in a dental office in Legaspi Village. My family then transferred residence to a nearby village, I was not taking my profession as a dentist seriously though, because I was doing some business on the side – real estate, cars, fax machines – successfully rolling the money my mother has loaned me.

Unlike many of the young men I hung around with, I was not into gambling, alcohol, or drugs, though I was into marijuana for a short period of time. Our group’s main concern was how to be able to have girls and more girls “to play with”. We classified them into the “disente” (decent), whom we almost worshipped and did not dare touch, and those whom we treated as objects. As a result, I led a highly promiscuous sexual life. I’d start a typical day figuring out who I’d go out on a date with that night.

Everywhere I went I never failed to bring tablets for my migraine – and condoms! Getting infected with VD was a constant fear, even if I did have a couple of serious involvements that even to led to talk about marriage, I was never faithful to them; in fact, oftentimes I would get caught in my infidelity.
In 1987 I received the approval of the petition papers for being a US immigrant; my parents, brothers and sisters had earlier on become American Citizens. I left for the US to become a green card – holder.

Life in the Big apple overwhelmed me. And, inflamed with the spirit of exploration, and because I discovered and inexpensive way to travel, I shuttled back and forth between New York and different places. In Different places. In Europe, for instance, I would visiting holy and not so holy places, like when I proceeded to the south of France where the nude beaches are and then to Lourdes the next day.

Back in the US sometime in March 1988, I came across a book on Medjugorje. This had interested me a lot, and immediately after reading the book I phoned my travel agency to inquire if could still avail of those chief plane fares, I’d been using. Luckily I could; so off I went, all at a few hours notice.

There I did not get to witness any extraordinary event as the book presented, or as my companions did. But after this trip things got to be different. A devotion to our Blessed Mother was kindled; on the train from Medjugorje, I remember struggling to recall the rosary and the prayer after the “Hail Holy Queen.” But I wasn’t so conscious of what was really going on....

I went back to the Philippines soon after, where I became more prayerful and paid more visits to the Blessed Sacrament. I attended Mass more often. I purposefully had my new car not installed with a radio. It was for me a very good opportunity while driving between Alabang and Makati to pray all the 15 mysteries of the rosary as our Lady suggested in Medjugorje. Giving other people a ride came almost naturally; it was a wonderful experience to be of some help to others.

I engaged in sex less frequently. It might have been because of my love and devotion to Our Lady growing strong that my treatment of and respect for women greatly improved.

For some time my girlfriend has been harping on marriage, everything looked good, with both families agreeing to our choices for a lifetime partner. But I knew hat marriage is a permanent commitment, something I had been trying to avoid or felt I was not yet ready to face. Because of that and because I wanted to give her a chance to met others, just in case we would not end up together, we cooled off. Besides, here was something which was giving me a strange feeling of some lack- something incomplete.

It was almost the Christmas of 1988 or 1989 when, for some strange reason, I attempted, for a change, to offer lord something I truly cherished, something of real value and significance to me. In all my previous Christmases, I was always petitioning the Lord for one favor after another; that particular Christmas was to be different, I was having great difficulty as to what to offer Him, but all of the sudden, it dawned upon me to offer a life of chastity for a period of time, at least before marriage or something of that sort. It was something like a contract renewable after a period of year. That seemed tough, if not impossible. Since this was a big undertaking, I thought it reasonable to make a “deal” with the Lord and so I did.

A very big test came a few weeks after Christmas. Who should come my way but this wonderful lady I had long wanted to go to bed with. After frolicking at the beach, we found ourselves alone, and one thing precariously led to another. To my great surprise, I managed to hang on to the deal! Very clearly it was not anymore my power at work, but surely a power of Someone else infinitely more powerful! My realization was: with His grace, it was possible after all to lead such a chaste life. On my own, it would simply be impossible...

It did not end with that, because many similar occasions arose. For example. I also got involved much later with a beautiful, former contemplative nun; at the moment that I was hungering for spiritual matters, she provided me with those which helped my friendship was developing. Again, one thing led to another but the deal was kept.

All these temptations were clearly a test, but the wonderful thing about it is that conquering these “test” made me stronger. As a further consequence, I was able to focus my energies on things more positive, worthwhile, and other –centered, instead of selfish and worldly ways. Very clearly all this was possible only because of the grace the good Lord had given, through the intercession of Our Lady. Otherwise I would long have stumbled. Because of that fantastic year, I decided to renew “my contract” for another year.

Things happened very clearly after that, I stumbled onto Center for Peace –Asia and met Fr. Reynaldo Lorredo, S.J., who became my spiritual Director. The next thing I knew, I was seriously considering the priesthood.

When my parent learned of this, they took off for America rather hastily thinking it would be that soon and not wanting to be left alone at home. They were really shocked about my life decision, my mom most especially. This left me all alone in our house in Alabang for a whole year. But that turned out to be a good chance to reflect further on my rather sudden decision to try to seminary.

Things feel into their rightful places, I was guided to apply to the Holy Apostles Senior Seminary and was accepted, I feel this seminary suits me perfectly. More importantly, it is here the good Lord led me. Adjusting to seminary life was both very difficult and at the same time fantastic. Here I learned to be focused to truly study, to be more responsible. I am not in a bed of roses; my struggles continue, but I feel and am quite sure that I an on the right path because of a great sense of peace and joy. I am slowly continuing to know and accept myself, to truly grow as God would want me to, to lice a meaningful, not shallow life. I found one more father in the person of my new Spiritual Director, Fr. Benjamin Carlos, SJ.

To this very date, I have managed to hang on the “contract” I made with the Lord. It is no longer a renewable contract but rather a perpetual deal; I have no regrets. It has become easier and easier to live such a life with His blessings. This has greatly changed my life for the better. It didn’t dawn on me immediately, but later on I realized that Our Lady in Medjugorje was really the starting point of my conversion, and perhaps my vocation.

By Fr Joseph Panabang SVD

Which Finger to Keep

When the Gonja people accosted me and wanted to kill me for helping a Konkomba man escape, one shouted from the crowd, “Cut off three of his fingers!” When I heard this, I could not decide which of my fingers to offer to the knife.

Hey!

After I shouted at the Gonjas who were attempting to kill my Konkomba catechist, naturally they turned and put the blame on me. at the Chief’s place, after the reinvestigation, the Chief decided to release me and my companions, but the crowd objected. As the rumbling in increased the Chief stood up, wave his left hand across the sky, and said angrily. “Hey!” And there was silence. I told myself, “Maybe this is the local version of ‘Rome has has spoken, the issue is closed.”

Eggs are Fragile

One week after my ordeal at Buipe Bridge from the Gonjas, I went to Soronoase Village for my thanksgiving mass. One catechist presented their gifts to me after the mass. He said, “Father, here are some tubers of yams and a crate of eggs, as our custom demands. When someone narrowly escapes death, we give him eggs to purify his soul.” The egg stands for the fragility of life. Eggs are fragile; so are we.

If He was a Ghanaian

While narrating my horrible ordeal at Buipe bridge in full and vivid details in front of my teary eyed sympathizers, my close Ghanaian friend interrupted, “Father, if he was a Ghanaian, he died of fear.”

Eloi, Eloi, Lama Sabactani!

At the seminary I could not quite understand why Jesus who is God himself should cry out: “Eloi, Eloi, lama sabactani!” (My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me? After my ordination, I carried the same problem until my close call to death by the Gonjas at the Bridge of Buipe. Now I understand a little.

Already weakened. I was forced to climb up on my big Nissan Atlas car. I looked down and saw the crowd pushing away all my companions who were trying to climb up. I couldn’t believer what was happening, accustomed as I was to exceptional Ghanaian hospitality. As they pulled away my last companion, I broke down in tears. I felt complete alone. Never before did I experienced such feelings. I was in the midst of people yet I was alone and completely abandoned. Now in hindsight, I believe as man too, in was indeed very possible for Jesus to cry, “Father, why hast Thou forsaken me?” at the height of His agony on the cross. If you have some doubts about our faith, better believer before the Lord Himself teaches you the hard way.

By Cyril C. Beltran, CICM

Along the ‘riles’ of the Sta. Mesa parcel in Manila, three CICM students prepare to be missionaries by leaving the protective walls of the seminary and living with the poor. Cyril Beltran shares his experience.

No Room To Swing the Cat

I was last June 16 when Betoy, Erick and I enthusiastically transferred to this place situated along the railway. Most of the people living here came from different parts of the country, specifically from Bicol and Surigao. We are renting a room that is rather small. in fact. We can only accommodate three chairs besides ourselves and other basic necessities such as a pail, cooking utensils, plates. It is around here our daily life revolves; we eat, study, and sleep in the same room. If we would have a table in this room, literally, we could not move anymore. So, in our life here creativity really plays a vital role. Writing, reading, studying, term and reflection paper are done sitting. Thus, the chairs have become very important in our life.

Precious Water

Surviving here demands a certain quality of toughness, while the formation I got inside the seminary is somehow the exact opposite of what I am now experiencing, Take for instance the fetching of water, if in other places you can comfortably use as much water as you wish, here you have to think twice about every pail; you really have to spend your time and effort before you can have it. Sometimes we have to wait up till midnight or the wee hours of the morning to get the two gallons which we would usually used for shower in the next day. Sometimes (more difficult still) you find yourself failing in line with individuals who are waiting in line for others to finish defecating! Indeed, I had a traumatic experience when I once got a stomach cramp and found out that I have nowhere to go, because somebody was still in the toilet. For your information, in our area here we only have one common C.R., a C.R. that doesn’t need flushing because everything droops automatically into the running water of the canal. Then, with the noisy train that keeps on passing by, disturbing even our cherished moment (siesta), and with the leak in our roof causing our world to become smaller and smaller every time it rains, we realized that we are becoming more and more in touch with the real lives of the poor.

Life is Cheap

On one occasion while we were drinking beer, a man about thirty told us how he manages to survive but merely depending on others ’resources, usually taken in a unlawful way. He was once the leader of a group responsible for the snatching and hold-up activities in this area. On another occasion a mother told me: “It is common here to see people fighting and killing one another” A few days later a cousin of hers, our neighbor, was stabbed five tine s and killed. such impressions were further intensified when n a few weeks after, I personally witnessed a direct confrontation between a father and a son, which after a serious argument resulted in a bloody incident. The father nearly killed his son for his disrespectful attitude towards his mother who at that time failed to cook something for there supper. Later I discovered that there was in fact nothing to cook, this family is very poor, depending only on the small income the father gets – mostly through casual manual work.

A Little Mystery No Wonder

There were moments when I asked myself: would I be able to survive all this and still manage other important matters, my studied especially? However, after a deeper reflection and more intense encounter with the people, I discovered that in spite of fall these inconveniences, my two companions and I were responding positively to the situation, for my part it was clearly manifested in my grades – excellent in comparison to what they had been before, and in my relationship with myself and with my companions. How did this happen? Sometimes I am inclined to believe that there are things in life that can hardly be explained by works alone. However, there is one thing which I am sure of: that my theology and understanding of life is know fully grounded in reality. For me, this is in itself a gift that empowers me to go on and be more committed to the man whom I want to follow – Jesus.

By Sr. Alice Lansang, ICM

The first law of colonization is: Get the gold – No wonder the original peoples, who were almost totally wiped put by colonists, are still suspicious of foreigners. So Sr. Alice Lansang, coming from a land itself colonized, knew she had to tread gently.

A Dream

When I entered the convent way back in the 60’s, I would often dream of living and working among our mountain people, after the example of our pioneering Belgian sisters. However, the congregation had other plans and needs. It dawned on me that Gods dreams didn’t exactly match mine. Or was it a question of timing? At any rate, I held on to this dream.

Has the Time Come?

Some thirty years later, while on a Youth Camp in Belgium, the theme happened to be: 500 years Renaissance of the Indigenous People. The conclusion of the reflections in the group I was accompanying was: “Alice, when you go back to Brazil, couldn’t you help the natives in the preservation of their cultures? You have seen for yourself here in Europe that humanity had need of their way of life and values.” That set me thinking” Has the time come for a dormant dream to wake up? I Aware that a long road lay between a dream on the one hand, and the task of discerning a specific call and living it on the other. So I whispered in my heart: “Spirit, blow where you will; show me the way.”

A Time Testing

Back in Brazil, my own Order was well aware that evangelizing among our indigenous people was a priority of the Church – that this mission lies at the heat of our own charism, precisely because these people are among the oppressed. The big question was: at 57, would I be able to cope with the rigorous demands of such a life? In fact I had never worked or lived in a rural area before, let alone in an Indian village in the Amazon region, the only way to answer the question was to plunge into such and experience, the coordinator of CIMI NII wisely advised me to test myself with a live-in among the rural folks of the region. So I l went to live with a group of indigenous people I shared all the activities of daily life - living mainly on, mandioc flour. Harvesting and preparing farinha this involved digging up cassava, grating, pressing and rousting it. Happily this proved that I could get along well in the hot humid, equatorial climate of the Amazon.

Culture Shock

Prospective CIMI missionaries have to follow a year of intensive courses on anthropology, missiology, history of evangelization among the indigenous people, and the government politics regarding native peoples, especially the demarcation of their traditional lands. This theoretical input is complemented with exposure in an indian village. Thus, one is confronted with the inevitable cultural shock and the isolation, with its consequent emotional impact. Ii passed the screening norms of CIMI. For me another GREEN GO – signal.

Rejection

For a number of historical reasons, the only Indian nation open to CIMI missionaries in Maraba (where ICM had two communities was the Suruis. Even the, I was well aware that a lot of difficulties had to be surmounted, several employees of FUNAI and lay missionaries of CIMI before me had been rejected by this same nation. So, without faith and trust in Him throughout this process, I guess I would never have dared to enter ‘where angels fear to tread.’

Tension Between Government and Church

Because others had been rejected, I had to ask the whole Suri community whether I could live and work among them, only then could I present myself to the Regional Director of FUNAI to inform him that I had been accepted by the Suruis. His response summarizes the tense relationship between this government agency and the missionaries of the Church: “You are ther because the Indians want it and not because I will it. Let us be clear about that!”

Are You Not Afraid?

The new young cacique (chief) offered me the hot of his sister and brother – in- law. The young couple had just converted a kitchen into a house so as to live near the house of the father- in law. In many Indian nations young families tend to group around the paternal house. My hit was no different from the hits in the village; it was made of palm leaves, split trunks of paxiba saplings, with the beaten earth as flooring and three stones on the ground as my stove.

Wariness no Surprise

It was no surprise to me when I experienced their mistrust and wariness. After all, had they not suffered at the hands of the ‘whites’ who used subtle tricks, and sometimes outright brutality, to lay hands on their god: the gold of the Indians? After only a month I could see that there were still traders who paid for the harvest of Brazilian nuts and cupuacu (an exotic regional fruit) with cheap clothes. They were also quite aware that Christian consider them, the indigenous people, as savages wild and lazy. In fact the typical reaction of non-Indians of the region when informed that I was going to live among the Aikewars was: “Are you not afraid?”

No Way to Light a Fire

Slowly they realized that I was there to learn their ways, and that all I wanted was to be one of them. Cautiously they invited me to their daily activities and taught me how to manage and survive among them. “That’s no way to light a fire nor to fan the embers,” Saive said, she proceeded to give me my first lessons.
“Do you see that tree over there, Kumarakuso (white woman)? Well up on that thick branch is a honeycomb.” How Wawai knew that was beyond me. She also taught me how to find and dig out sweet potatoes.

They soon discovered that I was fond of fish. So the young boys, and sometimes the women, would call me to go fishing. Teapi and Arawi were proud to show me where to find rotten babacu nuts and break these open to pick out the white larva inside, which serve as bait. The boys gave loud guffaws when my line got all tangled up. The women had fun watching my awkward way of washing of my clothes and bathing myself in the stream and often would burst out in laughter.

Acceptance

Gradually I saw signs that I was being accepted and that I was winning ther confidence: “Kariru! Where’s your coffee! “Old Warini is my first ‘morning’ customer’. After him comes a steady stream of ‘coffee sippers’. Kariru” is a name they adopted for me.

The Tapir

“Malissa, here is a piece of tapir meat my father sent you” Two-year-old Ariru hands me the meat. He makes it a point to run this errand for his father, knowing that there would be coolies for him. After some time I must say that I had my steady supply of meat and firewood. Generally the meat from the hunt is divided among the families when the animal is big enough, if not only, relatives or persons who have done a favor receive a piece. 
Slowly they realized that I was there to learn their ways I learn and that in order to learn I would need to be one of them. The words of John Taylor came to mind:

Tread Gently

“Our first task in approaching another people, another culture, another religion is to take off our shoes, for the place we are approaching is holy. Else, we may find ourselves treading on their dreams. More serious still, we may forget that God was there before out arrival.” (The Primal Vision John V. Taylor)

Only after some time does one learn to dance to His rhythm.

Till the 1980, the government ideology was: IT IS THE DESTINY OF THE NATIVES TO DISAPEAR.

By Sr. Socorro Gumnad, MIC

Here are some of the photos taken during our National Teachers Day in Bolivia.

I am with two Grade 1 students and the mother of the girl dressed in black at the gate of the rural school. The boy wearing his apron at my right came to tell me tat he is participating in the acto civixo program to honor the teachers. All primary students wear apron in school.

The drapery with “HOMENAJE AL MAESTRO” is made of native cloth. The little girl shows me the school banner: Escuela Nixta Milivoy Eterovic Matenda. The bird on the emblem is the national bird called the CONDOR while Iquircollo is the name of the pace where the school is located (part of Quillagollo the district to which we belong).

Sr. Socorro Gumnad tells us a little of her life in Cochabamba, Bolivia, where she tries to share the Gospel of Peace.
During winter schools in South America and in Bolivia are on vacation for a month, this is to prevent the students from suffering in the cold classrooms. The Departamento de Cochabamba, where I am working, is in the center of Bolivia. It is interesting to note that the city of Cochabamba is a valley. Though we are 2,750 meters above the sea level, the effect of the altitude is not as dangerous as that of La Paz and Oruro which can cause heart failure or high blood pressure in most lowlanders.

Visiting a needy family. The little girl offers me her pet chicks as a token of gratitude for the milk I brought them.

From the left to right: Sr. Socorro Gumnad, MIC, Sr. Alicia Dotolfo, MIC, Sr. Alicia Alambra, FMM, and Sr. Rosario Salazar, MIC celebrate Pentecost Sunday.

Sr. Rosario worked in Lima, Peru, while Sr. Leticia is assigned in Huancarani, Potosi, Bolivia. Sr. Alicia and I stay in Cochabamba.

Three Filipino Maryknoll Missionaries visited Cochabamba for a meeting. From left to right: Srs. Norma, Teresa, Gloria and Socorro; seated is Sr. Alicia, Sr. Teresa Dagdag, MM worked in the Central Governing Board in New York, while Sr. Norma Valdemoro and Gloria Kintanar, MM are missioner in Santiago de Chile.

By Fr. Ferdie Samar, SOLT

Solt is a group of Filipino missionaries in Papua New Guinea, and Ferdie Samar is one of their priests. Ferdie tells us here about the terrible problem of tribal warfare and how it bedevils life in some parishes in PNG.

First SOLT Team

When our first SOLT missionary team left the Philippines a couple of years ago our port of entry was Port Moresby, the capital of Papua New Guinea. But our real destination was Mt. Hagen, at the heart of the PNG highlands, approximately an hour by plane from the capital city. Arriving in Mt. Hagen, we were only given a month to familiarize ourselves with people, places and culture. After a month of orientation, we were given our definite assignments. The bishop gave us two adjacent parishes in the Nebilyer District of Western Highlights Province.

Strange Processions

Relatively ignorant about many things and with a very limited knowledge of Melanesian Pidgin (the national language), I was assigned as parish priest of Koibuga (the other parish being Ulga where Frs. Gene and Tom were initially stationed) with Sem. Alvin (now Deacon). There are 5 big tribes, namely, Melikas, Nogobas, Palingas, Kokas and the Mamungas.

Woken by Gunshots

When the parish priest of Ulga, who is also our superior, left for the states to make a mission appeal, I was transferred to Ulga, which is one of the first parishes established by the early missionaries. Catholic missions came into the highlands less than half a century ago. Ulga parish church is one of the biggest in the entire Mt. Hagen Archdiocese and is probably the most beautiful. The Catholic population too, is one of the biggest.

Ulgas vs. Kulgas

Ulga Parish is composed of 3 big tribes who are allied to each other (Ugubugas, Kundulges, and Pingas) with an umbrella name Ulga. When I first came to Ulga, there was in fact an on-going tribal fight. One morning I was awakened by gun shots. The fight was between the Ulgas and the Kulgas (the main tribe of our neighboring Tabaga parish). Four from the Ulgas, the people of my parish, were killed.

This feud has been going on for many years now. There are many cases of tribal fights, such as land dispute, marital problems, car accidents and petty quarrels.
As I mentioned above, compensation is a way to avert the tribal fights. But sometimes a tribe is unwilling to pay anything, this was the case between the Ulgas and the Kulgas, it all started with a land-grabbing case, the case blew up and became a fulfilled tribes. Sometimes, there is a nonverbal agreement for a cease-fire, but there being no formal compensation ceremony, even minor friction between any members of the tribe can spark off a tribal war.

Life comes to a Half

What usually happens during fights? People usually burn houses of their enemies. As a result, seldom can we see concrete permanent houses in case they might be destroyed during fights. When the enemies attack they also cut trees, mostly in coffee gardens, and destroy whatever property they find, they also kill animals and livestock. So, when there is an ongoing fight, tribesmen remain in their tribal territory, ready to fight and defend their tribes. Result: People do not work, Students and workers in other places go home. They too are afraid that enemies (birua) may attacks them anytime

Guns Take Over From Bows

Tribal fights are more destructive and dangerous nowadays. Before, people used only bows and arrow, spears and other traditional weapons. People now use guns, both home-made and high powered, Tribesmen are only too willing to contribute money to buy guns, no matter how expensive they are, During tribal fights, the situation is tense, this was he general feeling here in Ulga when I first came. We were even informed that the ‘enemy’ lines were threatening to burn down our schools, the church, the pastoral center, and even our parish rectory. In fact, in our neighboring province, a whole mission center was burned to ashes during a tribal fight.

Diocesan Takes Initiative

To respond to the situation the Archdiocese put u a Justice and Peace office. The main job of the office is to negotiate with the police, and possibly arrange for compensation, when their is an impending tribal fight, this office must move quickly to prevent it, this is the office that I am in close contact with since I came to Ulga.

Stay with the People

The priest in charge of the office visits me regularly and I coordinate closely with him. In one of his visits, he himself was attached and his car hit my missile that caused some considerable damage, I also had an experience I can’t forget. One day when I was going to town, the road was blocked by a drunk man, and he threatened to kill me. Thank God I was spared. During a tribal battle, it is hard to control people. They can do all sorts of “rascal” activities. But a veteran missionary told me that I must stay with the people no matter what happens, even if it means being at risk. So despite some traumatic experiences and tension, I’m still here.

(To be continued in the nest issue)

Translated by Fr. Bede Cleary

As Philip Bonifacio celebrated his first ordination anniversary in Japan, two Japanese, who had come all the way fir the ordination, recall their impression of the Philippines and Filipinos. We hope the memory will not make Philip homesick!

Yuma’s Story 
(3rd year elementary school)

After a three-and –a –half hour flight from Kansai International Airport, we finally arrived in Manila. The moment we arrived the warm humid air came surging towards us. (We had left Japan in the midst of winter.) Because the Christmas rush was at its peak, it took a long time for our luggage to come out. Next, we went to the Exchange Bank. I changed a thousand-yen note into pesos. The lady laughed, as if to say, “A Child indeed! With only one thousand – yen.” We boarded the cars which met our group. On the way into Malate, we pulled into a gasoline stand. The engine stalled, and the car refused to go. I was wondering how will the driver fix it, when he came out of the shop with a hammer and hit the engine with it a couple of times. Then everyone pushed, and off went and soon reached our pension. I thought the Filipinos were very clever.

Legs Like Water

On the morning of Fr, Philip’s ordination, I went to the church dressed in my hakuma. I was in the front pew, and when I looked back I saw the huge number of people. My legs became like water when I thought: how am I going to stand up in front and make my request to the Bishops that Philip ordained? Little by little my turn drew near, the first person spoke, and second person spoke, and it was now my turn, I went to the lectern, placed my paper on the stand, but couldn’t get my mouth up to the microphone. A mass-server pulled the microphone down, and I said to my words to the Bishop. The Filipinos are very good singers. I was surrounded by all these singing voices. I was overjoyed when Philip became a priest.

Dancing in Celebration

That evening at Fr. Philip’s house, there was a celebration party. As everyone begun to dance, Satoko and I got in and dance, Satoko and I got in and danced as well. When I saw even our gentle guide, seminarian Norman, doing shakes (shaking his bottom) and dancing I was amazed.

Hungry Children

There were many enjoyable times during or time in the Philippines. But there were many ramshackle houses beside the sea, and everywhere we went there were many children asking for money. Seeing these things. I didn’t know what to do. But I like Philippines very much.

Satoko’s Story
(3rd year high school)

When I went to the Philippines for Fr. Philip’s ordination, it was also my first time to leave Japan and see another country. The ordination was a wonderful experience. Philip became a priest, surrounded and blessed by all those wonderful people. And then he blessed us. Compared with when he was a seminarian in Japan, he now had become a very dignified person. Nevertheless, I was happy to see he was still the same easy going, calm person as ever.

I have Changed

We were looked after and our road was smoothed all the way by some many wonderful people: Fr. Philip’s parents, brothers and sisters, relative and friends, and the seminarians. Also Fr. Larry Pangan’s sister and friends helped us in many ways, and all this was not just outward hospitality, but a welcome that truly warmed and relaxed our hearts. Because of the time I spent with all these fine people, I feel that I myself have changed and became a little more docile and gentle. Because of their lovely disposition, many had the capacity to warm our hearts. They too have their worried and problems, no doubt but they go on with life, forward looking and honest.

Street Children

I have many other thoughts and feelings about my visit, I am thinking of the slum areas and those whom people call “street children”. I have seen much things on television programs, but they had never come home to me. Although I have left, I should do something about them, I was mainly satisfied with own life, in a word, just thinking of myself.

Cannot Forget the Faces

I say slums in the Philippines I saw a golf course and high buildings next door to slums. Also I could not forger the faces of those children who followed our car or pulled at ourselves, following all the time crying out, “Money, money,” with their hands outstretch. Although it is necessary for the livelihood, no one should be the cause of the look on the faces of these children. Even if nothing can be done about them here and now, it must be done; it must be change.

Dazzling by Material Things

After I returned to Japan, I felt that there is no true happiness in present Japan. Materiality and from the security angle. Maybe it rated high in the world. But there are many people here who are dazzled by material things, who are prisoners of outward show, who have lost sense of what is important in life. There is no real happiness in Japan. We Japanese have to admit this and try to change, starting with ourselves (maybe I am talking too big). I have been immersed in that Japan, but now I have changed. If I hadn’t had the opportunity of that visit in the Philippines, my life would be the same as ever. Because of my trip, I have begun to think about my life, about Japan, about other countries, and about the future. Although I’m lacking in faith and in strength, I hope to go on living my life, acquiring worthwhile knowledge as the opportunity presents itself, so that I may help in some way in building a peaceful world for all of us who share the same humanity.

I Will Come Back

Maybe my thoughts are naïve, but I thank the Filipino people who triggered these thoughts in me. And I thank God who gave me the gift of meeting them. It is good that I went to the Philippines. I learned a lot for my life from now on. I have many memories. I hope to visit Philippines again. I don’t know what the future holds, but anyhow I try to live uprightly, realizing what I have learned from the visit. I pray God’s blessing on all Filipinos.