By: Fr. Orlando Cantillon, CMF

Fr. Orlando Cantillon is a Claretian Missionary in Kupang, Indonesia Timor. Not to be confused with East Timor which is a former Portuguese colony and is recognized by the United Nations as independent.

Here in Nusa Tenggara Timur Province which includes West Timor, Flores, Sumba, there have been systematic provocations to hurt the feelings of the Catholics. It started in the Island of Flores where the majority of population are Catholics, about 56%. Almost a weekly occurrence, in one parish church or chapel, a Christian fundamentalist or a Muslim youth will attend the Eucharistic celebration. During the communion rite, she or he will receive the Sacred Host and then perpetrate a sacrilege either by smashing the Host until it is broken into small pieces or else throwing the host on the floor and stamping on it. And this is done in public to be seen by all.

Beaten to Death
These events naturally angered the Catholics especially the youth. There is a clear pattern in all these events. First, there is money involved. In most cases, a young girl or boy from the barrio is taken to the city, where she or he is promised a job. They are given a substantial amount of money ranging from Rp 50,000 – 500,000 ($25-250). After the fellow is caught, he will not identify the person who paid him. The tension rose to a climax when in the Cathedral of Ende (Flores), they caught a Muslim. The priest tried to calm the people but the emotions were already high. The man was beaten to death outside the Cathedral. A horrific tragedy! The Eucharistic sacrileges spread. They even spread to Kupang, the Capital of the province and lately to East Timor.

I will Stop Coming
I went to celebrate the mass in Lasiana Chapel just a few kilometers outside the city. This chapel was entrusted to the Claretian by an SVD parish priest. The mass started as usual at 8:00 in the morning. During the communion, a young fellow approached the altar. But I noticed something strange. He came to me smiling and wanted to take the Sacred Host with the only two fingers. It is our custom here to receive the Host on the palm of the hand. Seeing this, I did not give him the Host but asked him twice  if he was a Catholic, on both occasions he did not reply. Lay leaders approached and brought him to the sacristy. Immediately, the people reacted with murmuring and I felt the tension heating up. I made an appeal for calm so that we could continue the mass. Before giving the final blessing, I made an appeal again for calm saying that the boy has not done any sacrilege. But we will question him so well know the truth. Remembering what happened in the Cathedral in Ende, I even threatened them that should anything happen to this boy, I will stop coming to this chapel to celebrate the Mass. I asked the people to go home but nobody went home, everyone was eager to know who exactly this boy was.

Just Kill Him
I gave the final blessing and then we started to question the boy, and we learned that he was taken from a barrio about 100 kilometers from Kupang and that he is a Christian Fundamentalist. Somebody paid him to make the sacrilege but no matte how much we questioned he could not or would not identify the mastermind. During the interrogations; he was contradicting himself many times because of this he received many blows especially when I was not around. The people outside after learning this became more emotional. May where shouting: Just kill him, just kill him. We will teach then another lesson. We are ready to go to jail, just kill him! One was so emotional that he broke the church stained glass window. I made a appeal telling then that killing this boy will not solve the problem, he is also a victim, we have to catch the people behind this. Besides, we cannot kill in the name of God who is life-giving, and this is the exact opposite of the meaning of the Eucharist. In the Eucharist Jesus allowed himself to be broken and to die so that we’ll have life? Eucharist is meant to be life giving not death giving. But nobody was listening. So I called the police.

Police Arrive
It was already 11:00 am when 5 police came. They tried to negotiate but to no avail. The police suggested that we’ll have to take the boy to the police station in my car. When the people knew about the plan, they placed big stone in the front of the car warning me that they will destroy the car if I tried to save the boy. So that attempt failed.

Military Arrive
About 3:00 in the afternoon about 25 military men with guns led by a senior officer came to negotiate and finally they were able to persuade the people to hand over the boy  to them on condition that the boy will be out in the prison in the meantime and be charged according. I came home to the Claret seminary at 4:00 pm, very tired, angry and hungry. But the feeling thankful because I was able to save the boy from harm perhaps even from death.
 
Two Reasons
Why are these events happening? We don’t really know. Many explanations are given. One, there is a fundamentalist group (Christian/Muslim) who are behind these sacrileges because they are afraid to the fast growth of Catholicism especially in Kupang, which was formerly their stronghold. Secondly, somebody is orchestrating these quarrels among religions so as to hide the real political and social problems. May both reasons are true.

Besides, we cannot kill in the name of God who is life-giving, and this is the exact opposite of the meaning of Eucharist

By: Fr. Joseph Panabang, SVD

Rev. Fr. Joseph Panabang, SVD St. Joseph’s Catholic Church Kintampo Brong Afaho Region Ghana, West Africa.

Savagery

Connecting Northern Ghana to the South is the famous Buipe Bridge over the Black Volta River that flows into Akasombo Dam, the world’s longest man-made lake. At the height of last year’s tribal war, mainly between the Gonja and Konkomba tribes, the bridge became a monument to the worst of human savagery. People both children and adults were mercilessly killed and thrown like dead rats into the river. Pregnant women were sliced like cakes and their fetuses forked out and hurled into the river. Infants, if they were male were plucked from the back of innocent nursing mothers and flung into the swirling river; thousands drowned. Whole villages were burned. Finally the government announced that the fight between Konkombas and Gonjas was over, that peace in the North was restored.

Ordeal Begins
Naively believing this propaganda that peace was restored, I brought my catechist, a Konkomba tribesperson to Allasan Kora village to drop off twenty bags of cement for the school. Also with me was a photographer and two other companions. Since the village is just a stone’s throw from the Black Volta River, we went to take a photograph at the famous Buipe Bridge. After taking the picture, a man riding on a bicycle came by asking us to which tribe to we belong. Sensingly something wrong, the photographer said “Father, go and park the car properly.” This startled me for the car was already well parked. Meanwhile he was prolonging the shaking of hands with the man on the bicycle and talking of many unrelated things. The catechist and I started moving away towards the end of the bridge. By this time, more people were coming towards us talking to one another in their own Gonja language. Fortunately my catechist understood what they saying: “go ahead and we shall catch him at the end of the bridge”. Thereupon the catechist ran and the chase begun.

Bitin sa Liog
As the Gonja people were running after him, I was also running and shouting at them to stop. Then suddenly, with the catechist now safe in the bush where the Gonjas could not follow him because this land was neutral (that is, the land belongs to the Mo people, another tribe, who are close friends of the Gonjas. If the Gonjas were kill the catechist in that land, it would spark another tribal war between the Gonjas and the Mo), so the Gonjas turned to me, grabbed my shirt at the back of my neck so that it’s first button was choking my throat. Small as I am and big as they are, they were lifting me like a rabbit hauled from a hole. Fortunately I could still walk with the tip of my toes barely touching the ground though I could hardly breathe. Then came the first hard and strong blow that shook my head and put my right ear out of action. Then another and another,... my head was like a punching bag knocked left and right. There was nothing left except to cry for pity but the tears that rolled down my battered cheeks did not draw mercy from enraged hearts.

Cut- Off His Head
In a moment, as the few people turned into a group and the group to a crowd and the crowd to a mob, they begun shouting, you wicked white man, helping the Kokombas to fight us; we shall kill you; cut off his head. Throw him into the river! Cut off three of his fingers!” I was horrified and was asking my self which fingers would I offer them. My companions too were crying and begging but they simply pushed them away. Who could stop the mob now lawless and impervious to reason? “Get from him the key of the car,” someone shouted above the mob. “This is it, I told myself aware that a number of cars were burnt on the same bridge at the height of the fight last years.

The Gonja Chief
They threw me into the open back of my Nissan Atlas pick-up. I wanted to stand up so that my own people could see me what was happening but the Gonjas forced me to sit down amidst continued shouts, sneers, and jeers with a chorus of “you wicked foreigner” to every shout. My companions helplessly shoved away, I really felt alone and abandoned being stripped of my would be witnesses. I could not help but break down and cry for the pain was both psychological and physical. But call it instinct or whatever, I still had the nerve to shout to my companions, “Follow us to see how they kill me and report to it to my superiors.” Then they drove off with me pinned down in the back to the palace of the Gonja chief.

Chief Decides
To my surprise, at the palace chief and his elders were all well dressed and already seated in their proper places. They thrust me onto the pavement in front of them and made me squat saying, “you do not deserve to seat.” Since I was in Gonja territory and unaccustomed to their practices especially how to conduct oneself in front of the chief, I greeted the chief  and his elders in Twi, a language generally spoken by the people I am working with  but understood nationwide. Anyway, the chief according to custom asked my mission or purpose in coming to the bridge. He also asked whether it was true that we the priest were helping the Konkomba tribe to fight the Gonjas.
I told why I came to the bridge and that the priests were not aiding either side. I also told him that “thou shall not kill” is the divine law and precisely a sacred command we priest come to preach. We come to preach. We come to preach love and not hatred. We are for all and for everybody...i could see in his face that he was convinced. My witnesses confirmed that I had said and the chief proclaimed his verdict: “the foreign priest is innocent; he came to the bridge with no evil intentions.” As the verdict was in my favor, the crowd outside which were already pressing against me and the chief and his elders rose up murmuring obviously against the decision and wanted to revise it. I couldn’t help thinking of that scene in Jerusalem when Pilate wanted to release Jesus but the mob shouted the louder. Finally there was silence. I was released together with my companions but the camera of my photographer was confiscated. The chief wanted to return it but we crossed the bridge safely, one of the sub-chiefs accompanied us with some warriors at the back of the car.
Now the Real Danger Begins
But the problem was far from over. The real trouble was the that catechist was from Portor, a town split between Konkombas and Gonjas. How could I report to Portor that their only educated, well respected leader Mr. Emmanuel Wage was Safe...but missing? Would they take it in a Christian way? Who would come with me to Portor? Those were the questions bothering me from 12:45 to 4:30 in the afternoon while under police custody where I had taken wise refuge.

I Don’t Believe You
Decision must be made and not just speculations. So at almost five o’clock we went to Portor. God is so wonderful. On our way, we meet Fr. Augustine Villanueva, SVD, Fr. Cashimir Gergont, SVD from Poland and Fr. Gus Hails from Baguio City. Relating to them the whole story, they advised us to be extra careful for it may not be as easy as we think. As they have predicted, just when we were fifty yards away from Portor, we saw the guns were out. One of our Catholics, a sturdy man with his shotgun strapped on his left arm met us. He wagged his head saying, no, no, no...” and left. Gripped by fear, my companions forced me to go back to the police station which I did.

Tribal War Looms
Looking at all the guns out, then and only then did I realize real danger. We were actually sitting on top of a volcano about to erupt anytime, for in Portor, on the left side of the road are the Konkombas and on the right are the Gonjas. So already the guns were pointed at each other. It was just a matter one trigger being pulled and we will have the whole nation again at war as is happening in Liberia, Burundi, Rwanda, and other African countries where tribalism seems unsolvable by any means excepts in terms of fallen  bodies and severed heads.

Calling in the Troops
Alarmed by gravity of the situation, I laid the problem before the police. Their man in command rushed personally to Kintampo Police Headquarter for reinforcements. By evening time, Portor was surrounded by armed police with our District Chief Executive (Mayor in the Philippines.) trying to cool down the tension. By that time I was hidden with my companions in the car cabin (screened by a thick curtain across the back) as were driven safely back to Kitampo.
At night while trying to get a little sleep in my room I woke at every slight sound or noise outside, I would peep carefully through my window thinking there’s a Gonja or Konkomba coming to shoot me. The Gonjas will shoot me for bringing a Konkomba man to the bridge which they claim is theirs and the Konkomba people may kill me for causing the death of their leader. So I was in danger from both sides.

Mental Agony
The following day, Emmanuel, the lost Konkomba catechist had not appeared yet, consequently, the Konkombas in Kintampo begun regrouping, mobilizing, their people to march to the Buipe bridge for retaliation against the Gonja; the rumor was spreading like fire. Tension was mounting in all the village side by side. While waiting for news from Portor I was agonizing imagining innocent people dying, babies slaughtered, pregnant women cut open, the villages burnt again just because of my naivete. This was slowly killing me inside. Though police in civilian clothes were around the mission for security’s sake. I was never safe. The consolation that kept me alive from beginning to end was the felling that the man (Emmanuel Waga) was alive. All four of us shared the same feeling. But one can not expect to go by mere feeling when we had no wisp of hard evidence which would satisfy the Portor people.

Hard Evidence
At last time evidence arrived; at ten o’ clock in the morning Emmanuel appeared in Portor alive. He was brought to Portor by the very man (belonging to another tribe) who had hidden him in his safe house after taking him in from the bush at midnight.

Good News
I was at the visiting room with my friends who had come to sympathize with me when the man himself who hid Emmanuel came to report that Emmanuel was alive. The clarified all doubts and conflicting reports. Then suddenly, I found myself crying uncontrollably like a child who just found his lost his mother, it was out of sheer joy and thanksgiving. A strange silence followed while I was pouring it all out, my friends too were affected, they too were in tears. As they joked later, it was their first time to see a priest crying out of joy. We all burst in to praise of the Good Lord who had prevented a tribal war which could have engulfed the whole nation.

Emmanuel Waga-was the one whom the Gonjas wanted to kill. Thank God he was fast enough to run into the bush.

By: Sr. Veronica Origenes, OSB

Cooler Than Baguio
Through Kenya sits in the Equator. Nairobi, its capital city is naturally air-conditioned. Mount Kenya, the sacred mountain of the Kikuyu people is snow capped all year around. So all the surrounding areas are cool, cooler than Baguio.

Sitting Volcano
When I came to Kenya in August 1984, I say a political situation similar to that in the Republic of the Philippines in the late 1960’s: “a guided democracy sitting on top of a volcano; seething deep within.”

Prophets Need Help Too
Please pray for the prophets of this country that they be good listeners to God’s message and courageous in carrying out His will. Our Church leaders have spoken. We are the Church. Back in here too? We are four Filipino Benedictines here in Kenya. Sr. Lourdes Edissa who is at de La Salle University completing her graduates studies. Sr. Fidelis is subprioress and novice-directress. Sr. Pacita a junior-professed is guest-mistress in our priority hours.

By: Fr. Ching Espineda SVD

Fr. Ching Espineda comes from the Bicol area: Sorsogon. Sorsogon to be precise. He entered the SVD Seminary after Tagaytay and did some studies in Japan and Australia. Then he was sent off to worked in New Zealand among the Polynesians. We have called this article AOTEAROA because that is the old Polynesian name for New Zealand.

 Three of us volunteered to go the mission: Ghana, Ecuador, and New Zealand. We said then that were the “export” quality of the class. After some years, the missionary in Ecuador went back to the Philippines. The Ghanaian missionary, in the meantime, has become a world famous “Joker”. He is featured regularly in the Columbans Misyon Magazine, I am still here and have gotten used to the cold weather and marmite! (to me, our Bagoong).

Uprooted
I guess, there is always pain in being uprooted from your own culture and people. Dying...is a word that has become part of my life, it is no longer foreign and I am able to accept in with dignity. But, there is also joy in knowing that you are able to give birth to something new. And be challenged by something that is not familiar.

Hundredfold
The hundredfold is an experience I have encountered daily in my ministry. It is always a great blessing to be invented to homes and to sit at table for a meal. Much more, to walk-in and be offered hospitality... and a seat of comport after a day’s work.
What a grace to be called to a dying man’s bed... to be at the hospital, hospice, retirement home, school, park, gymnasium, and be entrusted with the lives of people. Happiness is when one chooses to give, to console... to be present...regardless of the cost.

Change
I have witnessed the face of Wellington and Lower Hutt changed. Buildings standing now are gone tomorrow. The money has also undergone a facelift. I have seen the change of governments in the last 8 years. And the arrival of food parcels in our church.

Cricket & Rugby
And yes, I have learned the mechanics of cricket and even find myself now glued to television when rugby is on.  Cricket and rugby are sports unknown to me prior to my arrival. Above all, the young boys and girls in the parish are now on their own, trying to live their lives and their Christianity out in the world. Some have grown much taller, and they “look down” on me now. they used to be altar servers. Now I look like the altar server! It has been beautiful and wonderful to watch them grow and to be part of their life and faith journey.

Golden Oldies
The number of our golden oldies and retired people has gone down during the years. I have been with them every month for their Eucharist, cup of tea, and fun raffle. I have been barred, on many occasions, from joining the raffle for my winning luck! We had enjoyed many bus outings and good speakers on interesting topics.

Grief
I experienced grief and sorrow when I buried some of them in the past. And yet, those who still with us continue to nourish our parish by their constant witness, prayer loyalty. Many are my good friends. To a few, I had occasions to pour out my tired self, my grumpiness, my frustrations...my family, my hopes, my dreams...

I Ask Forgiveness
This year marks the end of my ministry in New Zealand. In 1985 I landed in Auckland and was introduced to kiwi-life, in the parish of St. Anthony, Mangere Bridge. I have been in the country for 9 years, 8 of those in Wellington diocese and 7 years in Taita. It’s a good chapter to close.... to begin a new one.
I ask forgiveness for those I have hurt, wittingly or unwittingly.  in return I give forgiveness. In peace I came, in peace I go.

By: Sr. Francisca Talibutab, DC

We Daughters of Charity first came to Fiji in 1979 upon the request of the Archbishop of Fiji through the initiative of our brother Congregation, the Vicentian Fathers to help them in their mission work.

257 Pinoys
Fiji, as you know is a multi-racial, multi-cultural and multi-religious British Crown Colony in the Pacific, lying to the East if Australia and North of New Zealand with a population of just over half million people. About half of the total population of Fiji came from India bringing with them their very own cultural and religious valued and background. Most of them are Hindus, Muslim and Sikhs. A number of Europeans, Chinese and other Pacific Islanders also live there. During the recent gathering of Filipinos to commemorate the Philippines Independence Day last June 11; Fiji’s President and former Prime Minister Ratu Sir Kamiese Mara told us in his speech that there are 247 Filipinos  now residing and working in Fiji, mostly medical personnel and factory workers.

Philippines Connection
We are eight Daughter of Charity missionaries working here at present. We have adjust to a new way of life.... to Fijian culture, language, time, food, educational system. It’s interesting to know that we have similarities in some aspects. In language for example, there are Tagalog words with exactly the same spelling and meaning in the Fijian language. e.g. “mata” for eyes, “lima” for “five” “ulo” for head and “walo” for eight. Some of their customs are similar to the Filipinos such as “Utang na loob”, Pakikisama” and “close family ties.”

Yanggona Ceremonies
Yes, there’s much to know and learn from them. You might have heard that years ago Fijians were cannibals. They practiced human sacrifice but most have now become Christians. Others still observe some local customs like fire walking. Ceremonial kaka drinking is one of the Fijians most honored customs. Kaya or “yanggona” in Fijian is a strong but non-intoxicating drink made from the root of the pepper plant. They do this ceremony wearing traditional costumes and performing ancient dances on special occasions like weddings, ordinations, welcome and goodbye ceremonies for important persons or guests and at a time of Reconciliation for example.

Deeply Grateful
I thank Almighty God and the Daughters of Charity Philippine Province for sending me to Fiji. I am learning each day to appreciate and love God and others better especially the poor of Fiji. I pray that there will be more local people to continue God’s work in this small and beautiful part of the world.

 

By: Fr. Boy Toledo
Columban Priest Associate

On my weekly visit to Vila Nova- a very poor urban community in the parish of Vila Brasil, seldom do I miss to drop by the houses of Maria and Evans. In fact, they are the very first persons I usually consult if I want some information about recent happenings in the area.

Maria
She is a sickly elderly woman who was born in the area. She and her children live with her mother in a very small brick hut. Her inability to earn a living for health reasons I the cause of the perennial complaints of her mother about her church involvement. She is particularly involved with the youngsters Grupo dos Adolescents. Her dedication and fidelity to this group are quite impressive. That is, when she is in the hospital. At times I brought her to the hospital in my car and loaned her some money for medicine. once she visited the casa parpquial and fell in love with the chapel. Despite her condition, Maria is a sign of joy. She always has a ready smile as she extends her bony arm for a handshake. In spite of dire poverty, of hatred and criticism by those close to her, she is a sign of hope to everyone especially to the Gropu dos Adolescents.

Evans
Evan is a blind. He comes from another state. His family moved to Vila Nova four years ago. He is the second child of eleven children. He was born blind but seems to know his way around. Surprisingly, he is the youth coordinator, ever present in church affairs and ever ready to volunteer to do anything possible even to accompany me in my visit to the rural communities. He is jolly and seems very independent despite his blindness, he is loved and respected by everyone in the area. He hopes to see someday. He is hopefully expecting a response to his application for an eye-transplant.

Openness and Availability
Both of them are ever hospitable wanting to share their poverty at least through a cup of coffee. They are very open with me. Without fear and hesitation they would tell me almost everything positive and negative about myself as well as the feedback and needs of the people. They have lots of time to accompany me to visit families. They walk with me to the Invasoes-the new squatter area three times larger the Vila Nova, helping me to understand the people.

Objects of Jealousy
Our constant company and my frequent visit to their houses gave rise to jealousy among some parishioners. They also wanted the “padre” to visit them. While I try to visit other families too I maintain my contact with Maria and Evans. I know that my friendship with them adds meaning to their lives and sustain their hope. What they do not know is that likewise they are giving me hope in my own struggle. They are teaching me to be patient with my limitations. Their survival in their situations of poverty and disability shows me what it is to rely solely on Divine Providence.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

By: Fr. Dave Buenaventura

I’m Fr. Dave Buenaventura, a Salesian of Don Bosco. This is my 5th year in Papua New Guinea.

Warriors
If your were to ask any Filipino working in PNG to describe the highlanders of this country, I bet they would use adjectives like fierce-looking, short-tempered, revengeful, and war loving. Of course these descriptions are exaggerated but even still these highlanders are known as the “warriors of Papua New Guinea.”

Kerowagi
Well, I have just received the assignment to work at Kerowagi, a district in Simbu Province, the heart of the highland provinces and precisely where the warriors dwell.

Simbu People
According to many whom I have spoken with, they say that the Simbu people are much milder in character compared with the other highland peoples, but they can be very destructive if their demands are not met.

Face to Face
I am now face to face with the people whom many fear. When I arrived in Kerowagi Parish last May 26, and celebrated my first solemn Holy Mass for the people, two things struck me. First, their physical appearance. They really look fierce. Many of the men sported long beards and carried in their hand either a bush knife or an axe. I felt threatened by the sight, but I manage to gain my courage when I saw their face light up with friendly smiles when they were told that I was the “BIKPELA MAN” (Big boss) of the technical Training Center that the Salesians of Don Bosco will set up in their District. Second, their ability to pray spontaneously from the heart during the Holy Mass, when it was time for the Prayer of the faithful arrived, women and men came up to the altar and with all simplicity and serenity  poured out their needs to the Lord. Of course, I did not understand what they were saying but you could see from their looks and feel from what you hear that they were dead serious with that they were telling Jesus.

Great Hope
My conclusions with this experience is that if this people, fierce though they might be are able, to pray from the heart because they believe in God, then there is great hope working with and for them.

 

 

Youth Problems
Simbu province has a problem with their youth. This is the common belief. I contend, however, that for this particular case, it takes two to cause the problem. The grade 10 graduates (equivalent to the 4th year in the Philippines) are leaving their villages. They migrate to other provinces to look for jobs. Unlikely to get jobs because they lack technical skills, these youth end up in bad company. Consequently, they become a threat to the peace and order of the province where they have settled.

Can’t Go On to the College
But what has caused these young men to leave their province? The first reason is rejection by their parents and relatives who have financed their high school education. In a sense, they have fallen from grace because by failing to go to college, they will not be able to pay back what has been spent to their education. The second reason is the educational system of the country itself. The PNG government is very selective of the students who go to college or higher education of learning. In the year –end assessment of the grade 10 graduates they want to see the two extremes in the students: the failures and the successful   ones. Only one third of all the graduates nation wide are selected to pursue their college studies.

Can Don Bosco Help?
Will our Technical Training Centre bring these young men back to their province? More important, will be able to  instill in then their list self-esteem because they have been labeled as “Failures” in their province? Will they be able to regain their confidence with the conviction that, if given a chance, they too can become useful and productive agents of change in their own province? Your guess is as good as mine. But perhaps I will be able to share some answers in my future communication with MISYON.

 

 

 

By: Jose Ricardo Guerrero CICM

Guatemala is a land of great sufferings especially for the indigenous Indian population. Fr. Jose Ricardo Guerrero, CICM is among these of his fellow CICMers asking what the Good News should be to these devastated people.

Conquista!
The Mayan Q’Eqchi people are part of the Indian nations that were conquered and colonized five hundred years ago. Since then, like other Indians in the Americas, and particularly in Guatemala, they never played a principal role in deciding their own future.

CICM Arrive
The CICM Missionaries in Guatemala first set the foot in the Mayan Q’ eqchi region in 1961. Presently, Father Melchor Villero, from the Philippines, three CICM interns: Arturo Querijero, also from the Philippines, Isidro Ndjibu from Zaire and Ven de la  Cruz, from United States and I from the pastoral team in the Parish  of El Calvalrio. The Parish has an area of 2,500 square kilometers with the approximately 96 Q’eqchi communities.

Fleeing Reign of Terror
Between the year 1978 and 1983- years of vigorous military offensives against the local; insurgents- most communities of the parish were violently affected. Scorched-earth policy was applied to those communities; community leaders and catechists were captured, tied like animals, tortured and executed, while the rest of the people were bought into concentration camps. Most fled over the border to Mexico, others to the cities while hundreds went in to hiding in the jungle. In 1989 the groups that fled in the jungle same under the protection if the Catholic Church. They had been in the jungle for five years suffering through cold, rain, hunger, malnutrition (especially the children) and various diseases. They were pale, lean and unkempt, a sorry sight to see. In January 1993, after long negotiation with the government to assure their security as a civilian population, and that their sights would be respected as such, the first groups of refugees returned from Mexico.

Trying to Resume
Slowly these people are integrating into communities and starting a new life. However, some still suffer psychologically from the effects of war. This is clearly seen in the difficulty they have uniting as one community. There is mistrust of one another. Some are still subject to military service. Men are obliged to patrol while young men are drafted or intimidated into military service for a minimum of three years.

 

Land Reform
The usual question of land tenancy goes on. This is the main problem, as it causes great injustice, poverty, violence and insecurity for the Indians. Moreover, the people are neglected by the government. Most communities do not have schools, or health and other social services.

Reign of God
In June, last year, catechists from the various sectors of the parish, and pastoral agents reflected on what the Reign of God should mean to the Mayan Q’eqchi people calling on their experience as a people, as they understand it and using their own words,
We raised the question: The Mayan Q’eqchi are an abandoned, abused, and neglected people, who have endured centuries of suffering. Is “Lis Nimajwal Wankilal li Dios” (which translates literally as “The Great Power of God”), the answer to their dream and aspiration? Would Jesus of Nazareth proclaim this kind of Kingdom this to the Mayan Q’eqchi people?

Sahilal Wank
Jesus proclaimed a kingdom of the love of God for all women and men, a kingdom of compassion, community, salvation, liberation...in contrast to the religio-political kingdoms-of-this world that the people of his time had hoped for. These catechists believed the answer to their dream to be the Kingdom the Jesus proclaimed... truly the Reign of God. The catechists retranslated the expression Reign of God as Sahilal Wank
Sahilal Wank means literally a state of delicious feeling in the heart. Sahilal Wank is that reposeful feeling of a woman who was in labor finally dropping it onto the ground.

A Parable
A group of catechists wrote this parable: A widow wanted to clean her field of weeds and bushes, cultivating it and sow grains of maize. But she was alone and weak. The neighbors came and took turns cleaning the field, cultivating it and sowing the grains for her. As an expression of gratefulness and joy, the widow prepared broth and tamales for a feast for the whole community. Everybody felt Sahilal Wank.
The catechists believe that God wants Sahilal Wank for the Mayan Q’eqchi people, especially to release then from all their sufferings, uncertainties, hopelessness, from sins committed against their neighbor, against their animals and mother earth, from evil people and external forces, from death and darkness. This is the will of God for them. This is the Good news