A Special Seminar for Balikbayan Missionaries

By Fr. Leonardo Mercado, SVD

Missionaries have the temptation to overwork -- add to that the shock of a new culture and maybe a new diet and climate and you have the perfect formula for BURN OUT. The Divine Word Missionaries are trying to do something about this. They offer a special program for Balikbayan Missionaries several times a year at their retreat house in Tagaytay City. Here we have some of the comments or returning Filipino missionaries who have done this one-week seminar organized especially for them.

• The seminar was truly an answer to a prayer: the solution to the alienation of a returning Filipino missioner.
• One important feature is the sharing of mission experiences, especially our woundedness and frustrations.
• The seminar has been God’s way of telling me that He keeps on caring for my growth as a Filipino missionary. I was deeply touched by the sharing of our fellow Balikbayan missionaries. We have here probably more than 100 years of total missionary experience, unique, enriching, encouraging, spirit –filled.
• The seminar has answered my need for: 1) an open heart, honest trustful, loving, joyful environment to share and process my missionary experience; 2) actual, personal, broad knowledge of the Philippine situation; 3) a course to refresh, renew and strengthen my missionary spirit and commitment.
• The sharing of experiences of the balikbayan missionaries was very enriching for me and enlightening. The experiences were encouraging even without forcing us to be interested in their missionary activities.
• The seminar encourages the participants to have liturgies according to continents. For example, the African would bring in their drums, song and similar inculturated features. The celebrations of the Holy Eucharist in different cultures gave me ideas for being creative in the missions.
• Although the seminar is meant for balikbayans, the program has accepted a few departing missionaries (alisbayan). These were not able to wait for the program (Missionary Orientation Course) meant for departing missionaries which is held every May in Tagaytay.
• A Don Bosco seminarian assigned to Papua New Guinea who joined the program wrote in his evaluation: “The seminar is not only helpful for balikbayan missionaries but also for all the Alisbayan Missionaries. By hearing the experiences and reflections of Balikbayan Missionaries, I have become more prepared psychologically for the mission.

By Fr. Eugene Docoy, SVD

Fr. Eugene was born in Bohol in 1961. He studied at the SVD Seminary in Tagaytay and was ordained in 1987. In 1989, he went to Korea to work in the Diocese of Suwon near Seoul. He speaks fluent Korean which is a great advantage when he was to mediate between Filipino Workers and their Korean employees. It is estimated that there are 30,000 Filipino workers in Korea.

One year ago Ali Sher came to Korea legally as a ‘student trainee’. At 38 years of age, he is in reality neither a student nor a trainee. He came to work and earn to support his wife, three children and a jobless uncle who lives with the family.

Ali Sher landed in a small factory where I am presently based as formator. Indeed, he got good pay, good working condition and a desired treatment from the employer. But this time his work was dangerous – operating a deadly press machine. Also as a worker he is illegal.

Accident!

One day bad luck came his way. A day which he will never forget for the rest of his life. While operating that dreaded machine he accidentally cut off the fingers of his left hand. For him, it was only like a dream. It could not have happened to him. But it’s real. He could see it. He could feel it. He felt like the whole world fell on him. With only a thumb remaining on his left hand he could no longer work, he remembers his family. He tries to imagine his future but it’s not there. It’s all darkness. He is now a handicapped person – disabled.

Depressed Myself

When Ali Sher came to our Diocesan counseling center for foreign workers for help. I could not help but really get depressed. In as much as I wanted to help there was only very little I could do aside from sympathizing with him in this traumatic moment.

New Strategy

I used to analyze the socio economic system that may be behind these problems in a hope of finding ways to better serve these people. But now I have stopped being an analyst. The thoughts on exploitation, cheating, manipulation, deception and the like only make me angry. I have stopped pretending to be the messiah who can solve their problems whatever they may be. That only makes me frustrated and depressed. Instead I turn towards myself to listen to what’s going on inside me every time they come for help. In this way I can be more peace and serene no matter what the nature of the problem is. This process enables me o to better understand myself which in turn enables me to better understand the migrant workers as well. Surely that will make me a better apostle to the workers.

Ultimately Up to God

When I first came to Korea in 1989 it never dawned on me that I would be working with people other than the Korean nationals. I n the first place I was invited to Korea to work for the local Church. However, working with migrant workers gives real meaning to my life. It’s a job really worth doing! And I know that God sees my faltering attempts to bring a little grace and hope. After all he called me to do just a little so that He can do a lot.

By Fr Joseph Panabang SVD

Royal Taster

Fr. Augustine Villanueva, SVD from Baguio City, and our Acting Provincial Superior stopped at Kintampo. During breakfast, we were not sure whether the cheese was still good or not. “Let me taste it first,” I asked. I took first one piece, then another bigger piece, to which Gus remarked, “And what is that second piece for?” “The first is to taste it; the second is to confirm it.” Seeing how much the cheese had diminished, he raised an unbelieving eyebrow.

Chief of Yabraso

When I started developing a waterfall trying to convert it into a prayer park for private recollections, seminars, excursions, and the like, the Chief of Yabraso village to where the land belongs called me to a session of the elders. Aware I did not seek his permission, I brought drink to pour libation which by custom I should have done before I started the project. I knew well my offense but I was ready for it. Arriving at the meeting at the appointed time, we were waiting and waiting for the chief. I was getting uneasy. Finally the chief’s interpreter came carrying on his head the golden stool of the Odikro (Chief or land owner). He set it down and said, “The Chief told me that I should tell you, you may sit on it.” Really shocked, I urged the catechist to ascertain if they were kidding or not. No, they were serious. The interpreter explained that since the Chief could not come, I can use it. Honestly, as soon as I sat on it, the whole situation changed. It was completely reversed. I am now the judge not the culprit. Our old catechist who was my linguist was more surprised than me though he is an expert in their traditions. So, relaxed and with full confidence and control of the situation, I opened the session by asking why they want to see me. In the end, all they wanted to know was why I was taking an interest in developing the falls. We poured libations to ask the intercession of the good ancestors whom in the Church we call Saints. St. Joseph, St. Peter, St. Mary, et al were called upon to help.

Donations Please!

A medical Mission Sister from Kenya impressed by what she saw at the Water Falls which I have converted into a prayer park asked: “Fr. Joe, where do you get all the money for this?” “Well visitors, especially Sisters like you, come and they donate money,” I said to her. She stared at me as if she did not hear.

Crucifix Motivation

Though I brought enough food to motivate my co-workers, they were still showing signs of discouragement at midday for they kept looking at the big trees to be cut. Then below the cliff, one worker stealing a rest shouted, "Father, I saw something.”  “What?” “Look, there is a cross formed crudely by a branch,” he continued solemnly. Indeed it was a beautiful wooden-cross formed. After cutting it to my likings, I said” “Behold! This is a clear sign from about that what we are doing is God’s will. He wants us to open this falls that people may come to praise and give Him glory.” After a hushed silence, my co-workers who discovered the cross shouted, “So then lets work”. And gee, I never saw men so inspired, working as if they were a hive of busy bees.

Pintado

After erecting a concrete cross at the Water Falls on top of a cliff, I set up two long benches on top of each other as scaffolding for me to stand on while I was painting. I painted first the back of the cross facing the mountain then I turned to the front facing the high cliff were the water flows gracefully into the depths below. It was almost finish when suddenly the benches shook little. So lest I fall, I embraced at once the whole cross forgetting completely that it was newly painted . when I stood back, my whole torso, face, arms, feet were all glued to the white paint, in fact, I looked as if the cross was painted one me. A new tribal decorations.

A MISSIONARY died recently in Manila. This missionary was famous for two things -- his personal devotion to the Eucharist and his dedication to the poor. Here Fr. Al Schwartz reflects on how easy it is to believe that Christ is present in the Eucharist compared with believing that Christ is present in the poor. Yet both doctrines are central to our Catholic faith.

Let me give an example to illustrate how easy it is to believe Christ’s presence in the Eucharist, yet at the same time ignore His presence in the poor. Suppose for the sake of my illustration, someone – say a Satanist – broke open a tabernacle, stole a ciborium, went to the local dump-site, and threw the consecrated hosts on the garbage heap of the city. A believing Christian secretly witnesses this sacrilegious act. He runs to the chancery office and informs the bishops the bishops and his assistants. One can easily imagine what the creation would be. It would be one of outmost surprise, shock, and scandal. Most likely, one of the priests, or even bishop himself would the dump-site, gather up one by one the consecrated hosts from the mud, muck, and the garbage; brush them off, put then in sacred vessel, and then return them to the to the tabernacle of the Church. Probably, public prayers of reparation would be called for. The story of the incident would be written up at great length in the Catholic press. People would read the account with horror, shake their heads and wonder what this world was coming to.

However, the poor of the world live day and night in the muck, the mud, the garbage, and the degradation of dumpsites, garbage, and the degradation of dumpsites, garbage heaps. Squatter settlements, slum areas, and relocation districts through out the world. Everyday believing Christians see them, but they simply shrug their shoulders and pass the other way - as did the priests and levites in the parable of the Good Samaritan. If the Christians really believed that Christ was present in the person of the poor they would be more disturbed shocked, and settle by these settled by these than by the thought of consecrated hosts being scattered among the debris of the dump-sites and garbage heaps.

Christ present in the Bread of the Eucharist is in no way a threat to us, nor does he offend us in any manner. For example, the Eucharist does not smell, nor does it have a disagreeable taste. The Eucharist never insults us, hurts us, or robs us of our prized possessions. It does not deprive us of our rest, our leisure, and our free time but if you are with the poor and serve them, you quickly discover that they are either heroes or saints, nor - in many cases – even very attractive people. Frequently they smell. They offended us with their. They go against our will. They rob us of our possessions. They devour our time, and take away our leisure.

In the Sacrament of the Eucharist, we approach Christ as beggars with outstretch hands and pleading eyes. We say, “Lord give me to eat, I am starving and dying for lack of drink.” Christ takes pity on us. He gives us His flesh to eat. His blood to drink. We are refreshed, restored, and reinvigorated.
We go out and the roles are now reversed. Christ, in the person of the poor, now approaches us with outstretched hand and pleading eye, He says, “I am hungry, give me to eat. I am thirsty, give me to drink.” We in turn, give Christ in the poor, our flesh own flesh to eat. His own blood to drink, because this is what we have received in the Eucharist.

True faith in Christ’s presence in the Eucharist should lead to self sacrificing service of Christ in the poor.

By Sr. Rebecca G. Macugay, MM

Cecilia Wanjiku, at trainer with whom I work in the community Based Health Program in our parish, was just wrapping up the morning lessons on immunization of children when the rain clouds hovering above the halakesa tree (a variety of thorn tree) where training seminars were held released a gentle rain. Abashira, one of the community health worker trainees, directed us to her hut for cover. We huddled inside her “min”. (The min is the name of the small Orma house made of long thin poles bent to form an igloo-shaped structure, covered with palm and other kinds of grass and held together by colorfully dyed strips of bark). Abashira gave us an update in her home visiting activities. These seminars-under-the-tree or in a make-shift “min” are a recently developed feature of our health ministry.

Training health workers has been part of the health care program in our parish here in Bura. I work with another Maryknoll Sister, Anastasia Lott. We believe that a health education program for endemic diseases is essential.

Grazing Land Gone

The Orma are nomadic pastoralists. They wander with their cattle as they seek pasture. They are an ethnic group akin to the Somalis who’ve lived and roamed the vast semi-arid northeastern frontier plains of Kenya for hundreds of years. When an irrigation and settlement scheme was established in the late 1970’s, the Orma were cut off from their traditional land. Although some have participated in the irrigation scheme and have become farmers, most continued as pastoralists. However now due to their limited access to grazing land (as Bura gets pegged as agricultural land) and the drought which has ravaged the land in recent years the Orma are forced to “settle” the very apposite of their age old culture. With the ‘settling’ came the health services they are indifferent, confused and even resistant.

Difficulties

Many of the womenfolk attend ante-natal and well-baby clinics but sometimes with little understanding. Sometimes antibiotics capsules were shared by both sick person and livestock! When the family or clan moves on to a new place that wrecks our immunization and other medical programs because they do not complete them. Something had to be done.

Form Local Leaders

So we held several meetings with women leaders and elders about training health workers of their own. We deliberately chose the women because they are available and they hold the main tasks of care-giving and child –rearing. Also they can enable the community to prevent diseases through health programs. The enthusiasm of these health workers has been encouraging and hopeful.

Women to the Rescue

Late last year, there was an outbreak of cholera which started in some “manyatta” near a town south of Bura. After going through lessons about the disease and basic hygiene needed for its prevention and initial treatment, the women health workers mobilized their communities to dig emergency trench latrines and followed-up on the families with suspected symptoms. In the maternity and child health care clinics run in the Maryknoll dispensaries, they work closely and convivially with other health workers of different ethnic groups which was a breakthrough.

A joy to be with Them

The experience of working with these Orma women has been special for me. Being one of the few groups here in Kenya who are still very traditional (perhaps their being Muslim greatly influences this state) their oral tradition is still pretty intact. I find it a delight to be in the company of folk for whom story-telling is very much an art. Listening to Halima describe the birth of a baby is like listening to poetry and Yaroi’s commentary on the relationships between family members, especially the role of men in household affairs, is akin to watching a stage play. As I continue to listen to traditional health practices which they share, I discover and appreciate the wisdom of folk medicine which unfortunately has been damaged by our pill popping culture.

By Fr. Ignacio de Moreta, SJ

IGNACIO DE MORETA is one of 15 brothers and sisters. He was born in Manila (mother from Goa, Camarines Sur). His first mission was a twelve-year stint in Culion Leper Colony in Palawan – “That’s where I learned to be in a missionary.” Needless to say, that was quite exhausting. He was glad of a period in Venezuela. From there came the call to Ecuador where many priests had left the ministry. So it is from Equador now he writes to us and shares how the church is struggling to alleviate the poor. Ignacio has four brother priests and two (Assumption) sisters here in the Philippines.

Like in so many countries in Latin America, the Church in Ecuador must grapple with the problem of poverty. The Lord, of course, calls us to a simple lifestyle but that is far from the destitution that we see in Ecuador. This destitution cries out in heaven. We have in our own way tried to become a voice for the people. What we did was to set up a Foundation to help the poor in the suburban areas.

Results

We have at present 1,200 scholarships for the poorest children. We distribute 2,400 breakfasts a week for these poor children. A dispensary with medical and dental service as well as laboratory and medicines runs five days a week. More than 2,300 patients pass in a month. All poor people. Our scholars are free from charge. We also have a housing project for those working in the ‘smokey mountain’ and other poor people. At present 67 houses are being built. This year we plan to reach the hundred houses. The plan is for rehabilitation.

Nothing to Lose

Life for these poor people means very little. Many of them prefer death. Their only ideal is to live free -- in all senses, good and bad. Nobody cares. They have nothing to lose. That is why young people from the Charismatic Renewal work in their spiritual growth. Every week they are present giving adult formation and catechism to the children.

Mother Volunteers

The wonderful thing about this foundation is that it is run by Mother Volunteers from our high school JAVIER. This foundation has given them and the students a Christian social conscience to build a new society in love. A simple example: Students are asked to sacrifice two cokes a week for these poor children.

 We don’t claim that our foundation is the complete answer, but right now through it we are touching many wounded spirits and bodies and healing ourselves in the process.

By Nelda Natividad

NELDA NATIVIDAD is a member of that extraordinary apostolate: The Legion of Mary whose members believe that through the gentleness and tenderness of Mary the world can be brought to healing in Christ.

My job in the Tourist Hotel had afforded me the opportunity to meet missionaries who passed through Madang and my favorite query to them was. Do you have the Legion of Mary in your area?” Thus if they answered in the affirmative, we immediately has a mutual subject to share. If the Legion of Mary was still not existing then briefly I introduced myself as a Legionary from the Philippines and an Incola Mariae here in Madang. As such, I could help in organizing units. Once won over, I would furnish the Priest with the Legion Handbook, a translated edition in Pidgin. I have enough Legion of Mary handouts handy in my desk for this purpose.

Fr. Jojo

One day Madang Airport was full of clergy on their way back to their respective mission territories after attending the retreat in Madang. Thus mixing that day at the airport with the clergy was an opportunity too great to miss. One of those I met was Fr. Jose Maria 'Jojo’ Maximiliano, a Filipino. After introducing myself as a Filipino Incola, he overwhelmed me with his own Legion of Mary involved and dedication. Way back during his seminary days, he had served as the Spiritual Director of the Regina Angelorum Jr. Curia of the Senatus of Northern Philippines. Before he was ordained (early 80’s) and everywhere he was assigned, he would find himself as Spiritual Director of his parish praesidia or a nearby Curia. He had been in Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea for just a year and he hope I could work in his area in Waigani. He mentioned that just before leaving Manila in 1992, he established a praesidium at the Greenbelt Chapel.

Surprise

Now I informed him that that is my own curia’s territory. What a blessing to talk with someone about our mutual legionary friends. He got the surprise of his life when I told him I was merely three years in the Legion when I became Incola in 1988, we continued our conversation in the plane with him coaxing me to move to Port Moresby and even informing me that he had invited the members of the Greenbelt praesidium to do a seminar in Port Moresby.

Now I am back in Manila. It is spiritual recharging days, I join my old praesidium, attend our Curia which is now a Comitium and I get invited to the Senatus to share my Incola experiences and to encourage other unattached members to give a year or two to mission. Sometimes I long to be back to this quite post by the sea where the people take time to stoop and talk, not to mention their eagerness to know more about God and Mary who loves them so.

By Hector Pascua

This is am extraordinary and beautiful story of how a young Filipino lay theologian is administering a parish in Austria. It opens up what a wonderful role awaits the Filipino Church on the day we wake up and hear the call.

I am Hector Pascua, journalist and theologian, working in a parish in Austria. The Diocese of Vienna assigned me to a parish where there is no priest. Presently I am working in the publication of the first bi-monthly magazine for the Filipinos in Austria called Mabuhay ang Filipino.

Crisis in Europe

Austria is predominantly a Catholic country with more or less 85% Catholics. The advent of modernization and secularization has contributed to the decline of churchgoers and believers in the past 10 years. Add to this some hot Church issues that raise question for the new generation of Austrians (and at a times other issues such as a Cardinal charged with immorality or priests having women). One can really observe the decreasing number of Catholics. Either they join other religions and sects or live without religious faith. Indeed the Church in Austria (and in Europe in general) is in crisis. Nevertheless I find people who are very much engaged in the re-evangelization of Austria, priests and lay people alike.

No Discrimination

I work as a layman in a parish without a priest though a priest from a neighboring parish comes every Sunday and on other festivities to celebrate the Holy Eucharist. In the parish I do everything except administration of some of the Sacraments. When I arrived in my parish, I felt the warm acceptance of the parishioners of my presence in their place. With the increasing rate of racial discrimination in Austria I thought I would become a victim of this reality. However, I was wrong. Despite of our racial difference the people have accepted me. (I speak their language, German.)

100 First Communions

I give Bibles Services three times a week. More or less 10 to 15 people attend the bible study. This school year I have 102 children who will receive their first communion in May. I prepared a 17 week catechetical program and asked the parents to share these to the first communicants. The parish also accompanies youths who will have their Confirmation.

Help for R.P.

CARITAS with their dedicated lay leaders in the parish sponsored a fund-raising campaign for typhoon victims in the Philippines last November. The donation for the victims was channeled through the central office of CARITAS, Austria.

Mission Awareness

I plan to promote mission awareness in the parish. The minds of the parishioners are still concentrated on their own parish. the thought of the Church being universal has not yet taken root in their lives. I am trying to instill this missionary ideal to the people. I would also like to build up a partnership between my parish in Austria and a parish in the Philippines.

Youth Ministry Needed

Though secularization in Europe is getting stronger, I still find people who are strong in their faith no matter what it costs. The future of the Church depends on the young generation. But this generation is the one being swept strongly by modernization and secularization. Thus a more defined youth pastoral should be put to work. I realize that as a lay person I can serve as an Evangelist and I try to convince others to follow this path and face the challenges that missions life brings.

By Sr. Teresita Bernad, SSC

Huavina, one of a cluster of small pueblos among the hills of Iquique in Chile, never had a source of water. Water was brought to them by truck.

Eureka!

One day they got electrifying news: a spring had been discovered in one of the valleys. If channeled it could bring water to Huavina. So the people started to work at once, and of course, they had to begin with a blessing. They invite Sr. Kathleen, who in turn brought Sonia (one of the our co-workers) and me along.

Bleeding Feet

It was a long journey over non-existent roads. Finally the truck stopped on the top of the of the hill, and the driver pointed and said, “The people are over there!” We could indeed hear voices but saw no one. All we could see were hills and more hills. But there was a faint trail and we followed that until it completely disappeared, we were lost, going around in circles. To add to our problems, the ground was strewn with small cactus plants that were very thorny. Sr. Kathleen and I wore shoes but, Sonia had only sandals and her feet were bleeding, we traversed two steep hills and several smaller ones, and finally we found the valley where the people were. It has taken us two hours of walking. It was now two o’clock in the afternoon. We were exhausted and hungry because not realizing how far it was, we had left our provisions at the mission house.

Llama Sacrificed

What we saw was a festive scene. Thinking that we were not coming the people decided not to wait for us but to do ahead with the blessing in their own fashion. A Llama was killed at sunrise and its blood was sprinkled over the spring. This ritual had to be performed by the head of the pueblo and by all the owners of the places through which the channeled water would pass. Each one had to say certain ancient prayers in gratitude of God. Then the men began to roast the meat while the women were peeling potatoes. The men were on one side, the women in the other, with the spring in the middle, its water running in a clear stream.

Sister Gives Another Blessing

We joined the women peeling the potatoes, and when all was ready, Sr. Kathleen gave a talk on the significance of the event and she sprinkled holy water over the spring. Before the meal, drinks were served. Each one poured a few drops on the ground in gratitude to Mother Earth. After the meal what was left of the Llama was burned.

Home Journey

The return journey was hazardous because the hills were slippery, at one point my feet got stuck and I could not move. Sonia said, “Do something sister or we will be here all night.” So I took a chance and made a leap, landing in a little clearing.

People Blessing

Although the people are not very well instructed in Catholic Doctrine, they have a very strong faith in God and a deep sense of gratitude. They know that everything good comes from God as a gift and they respond by making acts of thanksgiving in their own way. After all, that’s why were in this earth: To say Thank You for creation.

By Sr. Teresa Joy F. Balais, DC

Ordinarily I walk from the Language School to our apartment after class. But one Friday, I was so in a hurry to reach home that I decided to take a public bus.

All the seats were already taken. I had not got a firm footing when suddenly the bus pulled up. Losing my balance, I fell sideways on the man sitting at my left, brushing his head briskly with my hand during the impact.

What we had learned in class that morning flashed to my mind. Our teacher told us never to touch anybody’s head because in Thailand it is against good manners.

Embarrassed, I awkwardly whispered “Excuse Me” to the man and without thinking, slightly brushed his head politely to erase the touch I caused a while ago. To my surprise, he looked at me opened mouth! Only did I realize how my erasure [Philippine Culture] has now doubled the crime in Thai Culture.

“Anemia”

After New Year, I met Sister Annie in a Seminar. That time, she was stationed in a small town about 21/2 hours drive from the city where I lived.

Sister Annie confided to me that she seemed to have Anemia because every time she dries herself after bath, she would notice her skin getting yellowish.

I told her that it also happened to me in my previous mission in Venezuela. What put up my hemoglobin was a daily snacks of fresh carrot juice.

After 3 weeks, we met again in Bangkok. “Have you gotten rid of your Anemia?” I asked eagerly. “Yes!” she answered sweetly.

“How?” I inquired. “Did you take the carrot juice?” No! She answered. “I just got rid of my yellow towel”.

“Sexy”

I was shopping one day when I met a lady whom I knew before was working in a Bank.

“Sister,” she said. “I have a boyfriend already and he is a farang.” [Farang is another word for foreigner.] But then, she said became worried when she receives his first letter from aboard. “It is as if he is only interested in my body”, the lady spoke sadly.

I got curious and asked her what made her think so. She searched her bag and took a pink stationary.
“Listen to this,” she asked me. Then she read aloud: “Ows ebrai thin darling! Ay owp yer in gud shape!”.

By Bro. Raul, FC

Pakistan is a country of extreme temperatures from fabulous snow up to a scorching 50 degree centigrade. Bro. Raul, FC tells us how he had and his companions manage to survive away from the Philippines.

On the Roof

Its summers time again in Pakistan. Since the heat and humidity make our room like and oven, we sleep on the rooftop. Nowadays we (brothers and novices) call ourselves “Sleepers on the Roof”. I enjoy being with my brothers and novices on the roof. When we are all on the rooftop we support one another and laugh together at this terrible summer. Its’ not easy though, but life must go on. We have to wake up early, so our prayers, studies and apostolate. We take a long rest after lunch. Nobody can go out at noontime when the temperature is almost fifty degrees centigrade!

Becoming Mature

May is the month when I landed for the second time in the “Land of the Pure” (Pakistan) I first came to Pakistan in December 1992. However I had to leave after two months due to a visa problem. It is in this land where I learned more of becoming mature, being able to stand on my own feet, making decisions, being detached and attached, becoming loving and forgiving, becoming broadminded, being able to laugh and cry when it is necessary and to become a good missionary.

My experiences in this country could never be bought with money. I have rally found my treasure in Pakistan, I can say that nobody can stay indifferent to Pakistan, it is like a watershed: this way or that way. Though there are no discos, no parties, no dancing, no night life; even if women are hardly visible in the street, no smiles, one would love Pakistan.

Land of Extremes

Pakistan is a country of extremes. It has the highest mountains and the deepest seas, it has the most fertile plains and the biggest deserts. There are landscapes of moonlike barrenness where the juiciest fruit grows. It has snow and it has 150 days of uninterrupted heat in a year. It knows the Seven Years of Drought – as well as monsoon floods that inundate thousands of villages most summers. Its holds ever increasing massed of hungry people as well as those who are – or become - unspeakably rich; the greatest materialist next to the pious, mystical souls in plenty. It can show the face of immense tolerance and, the next, the grimace of deadly hate. It has ht strictest code of honor and religious rules and commits the most heinous crimes. Pakistan is not a country for lightweights. Think of the majestic Himalayan Mountains at whose feet the country sprawls; this is its mood, even its beauty is grave or mighty.

Culture shock is certainly experience by all who visit Pakistan for the first time. The customs, climate, language and foodstuff are completely different from what they are used to at home. But with a little help and effort, you can adapt to what Pakistan has to offer.

I need to take an Urdu language course this summer because learning the language of the local people in Pakistan is essential to my mission, the venue of the language course is in the northern part of Pakistan – 345 kilometers away from Lahore.

Murree in the Mountain

A month from now I shall be moving to my new environment called “Murree Hills” (height 7,500 feet). Murree is in the mountains where people go during summer to refresh themselves, I am already looking forward to going to Murree. My flat in Murree is located in the highest part of the hills called “Pindi Point”. The flat is overlooking the Himalayan Mountains, what a lovely view! The owner of the house is a Muslim family, they are very friendly people. They love me and respect me. Indeed I have found a new friendly family whom I consider as my “extended family” in Pakistan which I consider as my “second home”.

By Sr. Juana Ma. Rivera, OSB

THE BENEDICTINE SISTERS have two foundations in Angola: One in Luanda and one in Menongue. The one in Menongue has a clinic where Sr. Juana Ma. Rivera, OSB found herself in the middle of civil war between the Angolan government and the Unita Rebels.

Would I see my native land again?

So bad was our situation that I thought I would never see my native land, the Philippines, again nor could I even imagine being at home for Christmas, united with my Sisters and with my family. But the grace of God gave us the courage to face the horrible bombings and made us persevere in our mission with the Angolan people as we tried to give hope to the hopeless, I can’t find the words to describe what we underwent during the nine months if isolation, but I will try to remember what and how it happened.

War Broke Out

One night in Menongue we were awakened by loud explosion, shots and bombings. Trembling with fear Sr. Monika, the aspirants and I gathered together. Looking out of the windows we saw flashes in different directions. This was the sign that war had broken out between the two opposing forces the UNITA (the rebels) and the MPLA government forces. That very night the UNITA soldiers were moving put of Menongue and the MPLA government soldier were pursuing them with bombs. The government soldiers were ransacking the buildings and looting all the properties of the UNITAS and even burning them. The people were confused about what to do. Many left their houses to live in far distant farms. Many went to9 the bush. Families were separated from one another. The United Nations people were soon airlifted out leaving all their cars and belongings while other neighboring their families also took refuge with us.

We Sheltered People

For months we became a sanctuary and we opened the underground area of our house so that we could shelter around a hundred people (women and children). This building is where Sr. Monika, the aspirants and I were staying while the other house, the convent, is where our Sr. Mechtild, Sr. Geny and the Portuguese families and some other refugees were staying. We even extended our help to the only doctor of Menongue. All the foreign doctors and foreign health organization were already out of Menongue by December.

People Dying

Then the prison cells were filled with political prisoners and Sr. Geny had to help them; they where sick, hungry and sometimes unjustly accused. The bishops started buying crops like cassava, corn, massango. He bartered then for clothes and soap to help those who were now suffering from hunger. Four or five months passed and people began to get very hungry. The crops became scarce and almost all the poor were coming to our house also the very sick and dying. The doctor and Sr. Mechtild organized help amidst the bombings.

Landmines

Bombs continued to droop killing many people, both military and civilians but our house was always spared. Tanks and cannons were also on the move. For months we always had exposition and adoration of the Blessed Sacrament at 3 o’clock in the afternoon. Many times we had to drive under the church benches or lie on the floor as the bombs were falling nearby. Shrapnels will either kill you instantly or make you suffer by staying inside you body because there is no surgeon available. Because of hunger, women and children went to far distant farms risking their lives to barter whatever they had for food. Many of them did not return anymore because of landmines or they came home mutilated by those landmines.

Rats A Delicacy

For us, sisters, to feel around 60 to 80 people we had to bartered all our clothes from packages, all our bedsheets and whatever we had just to have some supply of corn flour or cassava flour “fundje” which we ate day in, day out. For viands we gathered the green leaves and leaves which could be eaten since out vegetable garden was not producing enough to feed us all. Our rice in stock was only for Sunday and big feasts. By the month of July, our chicken started to lay eggs but they were too few and too small because we had nothing to feed then. Rats became precious costing from 8 – 15,000 kwanzas depending upon the size.

Hunger

If I remember right by July, parachutes were beginning to appear in the skies to bring food and ammunitions not to us but to the soldiers. Childrens at the hospitals were now starting to die in their last stages of malnutrition; streets children could not walk anymore because of bloated stomach, face, hands, legs. Ten to thirty children were dying everyday and Sr. Mechtild had to ask food from the military so that we could make a soup once a day for the children. Landmine victims and war victims were increasing in numbers at the hospital just as the adults were also starting to be bloated.

Escaped Death

We did not lose hope but continued to pray harder. Church goers began increasing in numbers. We continued to teach catechism. We even had weddings (for the first time after ten years), Baptism, First Communions and Confirmations.
Everyone got so accustomed to the bombs so that many did not hide anymore in their shelter and would just say “Let’s just wait for our time”. I became courageous, too. I could say “If it’s my time then.... “I escaped death twice. Once was during an attach when a stray bullet passed through the wall of my room and ricocheted back to the other wall then landed near my cross on the night table beside my head. The second occasion was when we had house to house prayer service with the youth and their families. On my way home I was crossing the bridge when the soldiers begun shooting at a man on a bicycle who was almost beside me. So I just lay down on the pavement with head as low as possible, then I ran for all I was worth, my heart pounding hard in my chest.

All men aged 15 and above were forced to do military service. Every house has a gun for defense, that very July 4 when the UNITA soldiers attacked a barrio, 20 children and women were instantly killed in a cave where they were hiding when the UNITA soldiers threw hand grenades in. what made me paralyzed with fear was the sound of loud wailing of friends and relatives of the victims being carried by the winds following an attack.

Death & New Life at the House

During the darkest moments we had one death in the house, the wife of one of the Portuguese refugees due to sickness. But we also had a blessing as one mother gave birth to a child in the basement of our house. Many pregnant women have never seen their children alive or if they give birth, the babies were pale and sickly for they were already malnourished in the womb of the mother. There where no more smiles from the people, children were no longer playing in the street, people where almost hopeless, deaths from hunger increased.

Then in September, the Caritas plane arrived unloading tons of food supplies – the first sign of hope. Almost seemed unbelievable. Packages started to come in and different health organizations came in to help the children, I took care of the kitchen in the hospital feeding 300 patients daily with three meals. I organized the kitchen personnel in distribution so that it will go directly to the sick without being diverted somewhere else because corruption and stealing had become rampant. Sr. Mechtild and Sr. Geny were in-charge of organizing the feeding centers in the different zones and Sr. Monika was in-charge of the store houses of the Caritas World Food Program and UNICEF. The church had truly become the living symbol of Christ the servant of the poor. The church had become the Church.

Ready To Die

“Ready to die” these words reminded me of the first requirement of a missionary to Angola. Confronted by these words in the actual situation I cried very hard once before the Lord, but submitting to His Will gave me the strength needed not only to accept physical death but to accept also death to myself. The difficulties and the volume of worked were simply tremendous, yet the service, love and compassion I received and gave to my small community of sisters made this heavy burden of service to the bigger community lighter. Not only by food are we made healthy and strong but by fulfilling our role in realizing God’s reign. God has been with us and has never left us. His presence sustained me throughout my mission years in Angola. Thank you for your prayers. Thank you Lord for making me an instrument of your peace.

Rats became precious-costing from 8 – 15,000 kwanzas depending upon the size.