From a Missionary Silver Jubilation

By: Sr. Julia Yap, OSB

“Lord you called us graciously to go your way,” was the verse of the song we sing twenty-five years ago when seven of us made our first profession. The above verse is still ringing in my ears now that I am preparing for my silver jubilee of profession.

Without My Father’s Consent
I might well begin this story with my simple call to the religious life which I have heard a faint voice calling to follow Him way back thirty years ago . For a time I ignore the voice, but later on I could not resist Him and ended up with my radical, “Yes O Lord, I will follow you.” A year before I entered the convent of the Missionary Benedictine  Sister of Tutzing in Manila I attended a vocation retreat which was conducted by a Jesuit father from Ateneo. He opened the eyes of my mind and the ears of my heart to listen to the call. That was a radical change of my life to leave home even without the consent of my father; to leave everything and begin my search for God.

Before Africa
Here is the short personal history of my life as a sister before I was sent  to the mission in Africa I have worked in the field of education and science such as teaching, doing research work and administrative jobs in the different levels of education from grade school to graduate school. I loved and enjoyed my work for His honor and glory.

Drastic Change
1989 was the time for uprooting from my sedentary though active life with this motto of the Benedictine, Ora et Labora. This was a drastic transplanting from the more the seven-thousand islands to the vast mountain ranges of Africa. This was like a flash  of lighting to me. In a matter of three months I had to give up my post, pack my things and leave my native land. I had first a stop over for a few months in Rome and Germany in order to learn the German language and to see the historical roots of our congregation; then I flew to Africa.

Jubilee- Still Searching
Nineteen-ninety two marked my fourth year of mission life in Africa which meant a lot of adjustment coupled with joy and sorrows, seasoned with loneliness and homesickness for my native land. All this mixed emotions and unknown feelings surfaced in myself which I dealt and processed as they came until I really reached the deep part of my real-self, the ‘me’. On May 10, 1992 was my first silver jubilee of profession which urged me to write this short reflection and let others know how deep in this search for God whom I am still seeking.

 

Rule of St. Benedict
At present, I am working in the school and in the formation of our young missionary Benedictine sisters. Most of my time is devoted to teaching the different academic and religious subjects. As a Benedictine I work and pray which is the motto of the congregation. Our religious life is a particular way of the living the gospel and is rooted in the Rule of St. Benedict. The fundamental characteristic of this way of life is seeking God in community through humility which unites us to God under the rule and a superior. Our common life finds expression in praying and working together, in sharing our goods both material and spiritual, in mutual service, support and encouragement.

Special Relationship
My perception is that the people whom I am working with have accepted me and I in turn am loving them. This is what we call, a symbiotic relationship.

Learning New Language
As jubilarian, it is not an easy task to shift to a new outlook in life, to do things differently, to speak and to learn new languages to accept life in its new events and happenings. I sometimes make differences to the past which needs full awareness in order to turn it about. Faith in god and self-knowing make life bearable, and relying on God’s grace and goodness makes life possible.

Search
My purpose in life as a missionary Benedictine sister is not just to do the will of God but most of all to SEARCH FOR GOD in the mission of Africa.

 

 

By: Sr. Marcelle Bual, SPC

Sister lived through the tensions of the INTIFADA- the uprising of the Palestinians in the Israeli occupied West Bank. She also witnessed the Gulf War and tells us how, hiding in a sealed room as the Iraqui scud missiles skimmed across the sky, her thoughts often strayed to a certain faraway place...

I am a Sister of St. Paul. My first foreign mission assignment was in Bethlehem University, first teaching the Palestinian students Business Administration and then, at the start of Intifada, working as the accountant of the university.

Last Out of Tel Aviv
The year 1991 was somewhat of a turning point for me. Early in the year, when war in the gulf was imminent, the administration of Bethlehem University gave all the staff the option to leave the country with out disrupting their commitments/contracts and with the promise to call them back when things normalized. After serious discussion with my own community and consultation with my superiors in the Philippines and Rome, I opted to stay with our sisters in Rome. I left on the 13th of January, only three days before the Gulf War actually started. I was one of the last passengers trying to get into the plane for Rome before the airport in Tel-Aviv finally closed and all future flights were indefinitely cancelled. Although it looked like running away from trouble and trying to save my own skin, the sisters in Rome were relieved and grateful to have me there. As a matter of fact, all my Palestinian friends thought it was a wise decision. The university was indefinitely closed and the curfews imposed by the Israeli military government. On the West Bank made any kind of movement within the areas impossible, during that time.

Back to Bethlehem
While I was in Rome, and with absolutely no idea of when the war would end, my superior sent me to our sister in London with the view of helping the sisters across the water in Dublin, Ireland. However, while I was in London preparing for my travel to Dublin, word came from our Vice Chancellor in Bethlehem calling us back. The university had to function normally even in the abnormal situation! It was the 5th of February. Delay but with so much frustration and disappointment in my heart, I flew back to Palestine. By the middle of February, I was already working again in the accounting office of the Bethlehem University.

Gulf War
Meanwhile, my fascination with Dublin which I never saw, was almost haunting me. Somehow, in the short time I was with our sister in London, all of them former missionaries to the Far East during their younger years, I saw another need... thee care of the old of society. So while I was having a terrifying taste of the Gulf War during the second half of February-sleepless nights, sirens, donning of the gas mask , waiting in a “sealed room” while the scuds from Iraq came flying into Israel, not knowing whether where chemical or just conventional bombs until proper advice came through the radio and television – while I was having all these, consolation came into through the taught of the possibility of working with the old of Dublin. I had to talk with the Vice Chancellor about the possibility of leaving the university, quite an emotional one for after all, Bethlehem has taken a special space in my heart. He assured me that much as they needed people like me, he did not want to put any obstacle to my other plans in life; that six years of total service to the Palestinian people in the West Bank through the university, was great contribution to what the “Church”  is trying to accomplished there. I was further consoled quite an emotional one for after all, Bethlehem has taken has taken a special space in my heart. He assured me that much   as they need people like me, he did not

Dublin’s Fair City
Queen of Peace Centre is a retirement home catering to fifty two residents, women and men. It is conveniently situated behind the church of the Three Patrons in Rathgar. Twenty of the residents live in flats around the area, managing themselves. They came daily for lunch in the big common dining of the centre. The rest of the residents stay in one building which has a hospital like setting. They take their breakfast and evening tea in their rooms, and their lunch in the common dining room. At present an extension building is under construction, which when finished, will add ten more private rooms. We have a long list of waiting applicants. The care of the old seems to be a priority in this area and institutions seems to find their hands always full. We can do everything we can.

Keeping to the Left
My work here is mainly accounting, which is what I have been prepared for. However, I have learned to drive safely and with ease on the left side of the road, so I am also a driver here. As you very well know, when one is in the mission, anything good for the community is always welcome. In the beginning of the traffic here is total confusion for me. After a few months and faithful driving practice, driving around Dublin is just like in Israel or in the Philippines...on the correct side of the road.

Dublin and Bethlehem
I cannot compare my life here with my life in Bethlehem. Both have their own call of love. Externally one might say that Dublin is the complete opposite of Bethlehem: calm, green and cold most of the time. Still, it is a call to love and I must respond to that call with the same intensity I have given the call in Bethlehem.

By: Sr. Emma G. de Guzman, ICM

Sr. Emma, a veteran Filipino missionary in Cameroon faces the age old dilemma- how to help the poor without playing God and without damaging them. She shares the anguish of all missionaries with us...

Time for Vigil
I woke up early (4 a.m.) to join the end part of the Holy Thursday all night vigil in our parish. After our community’s morning prayers, I decided to spend this particular Good Friday in quit recollection and prayer, to be alone with our Lord Jesus in reliving His suffering and death. I also thought to be one in solidarity with our modern world’s anguish, pain and deaths.

Everything Just Right
The chapel in our formation Center is good for this: its far away from the gate and I thought, it will be where I will be most undisturbed. The skies were dark and gloomy...even nature is in state of mourning.
At about 8 a.m. two young boys from the public high school where we give catechism classes asked for me: Awossomo and Bela. Feeling my day slowly being robbed off, I softly asked the two what they need. Awossomo answered in a still lower voice: “Sister, do have work for us?” (This is the usual question some students ask on Saturdays when they want to earn a bit of rice and canned meat or sometimes a bible).

Work on This Day?
My voice gradually losing its softness, answered back: “Work on Good Friday? Do you realize what day it is? Why there are no classes today and why this is not a day of work? What did you learn last week in our Catechism class about Good Friday..?”

He Looked to the Ground
I asked the series of questions eyeing Bela who is the older of the two (each question gradually rising in pitch). With his eyes looking on the ground and without answering my question he said softly: “Sister its because we have not eaten for two days, and this will be the third day...”

A Lump in the Throat
I suddenly felt a lump in my throat and a sharp pain in my guts. My heart filled with pity and trying to control my emotions, I tried to ask: “Where’s your father?”  “He had an accident and is hospitalized, he couldn’t send money since almost two months now.” And I pursued: “And your mother?” “She left for the city to take care of our father.”

 

They Told their Story
And the boy told their story of coming from another village, renting a room in the house near the public high school; a house whose owner resides in the city and comes only to collect the rent...actually they are left on their on their own.

Threat of Being Cheated
Visibly, their looks were haggard and hungry, but I needed to ask the questions, typical question we often ask in our efforts to evade the constant threat of “being cheated” for money or whatever. But these two boys were not trying to cheat, they were hungry.

Morning Ruined?
I asked them in, gave them a bunch of bananas and sandwiches that easily found their way to hungry stomachs. Meanwhile, I returned to my quite chapel to retrieve my Bible, knowing the morning is finished for quit prayer and meditation as giving work means also supervision. When Bela and Awossomo had eaten, and the smiles back on their weary faces they asked for the machetes and I showed them the part of the garden that need’s tending.

No, Not Ruined
An area not far from my office where I am seated right now trying to capture in words this Good Friday experience...
This is your Friday for me Lord!
I desired to spend a day of quit intimacy with you and you sent me to your hungry children.
I want to spend the luxury of a day of prayer to revive my spirit and take a breather from our active lives but you want me to feel your dying in the poor today.
I longed to touch you in the silence and prayer but you touched me instead with the lives of your hungry children here in Okola.”

Tough Life for Students
The story of Bela and Awossomo is not rare. Of the 1,300 students in Okola Public High School, the majority suffer this fate: students left to themselves. They are in school from morning till afternoon. They must cook their own food, wash their own cloths, fetch their own water from the spring, gather fire wood; walk home to their parents homes (some 30 to 70 Km.) once a month for their food provisions and study to get that much desired diploma that can assure them of jobs and a place in a fast developing Cameroonian society.

Suicide
Bela and Awossomo reflect the lives of these students, their stories are too long to relate and sometimes too tragic. Last year a second high school girl had an abortion provoked by her own mother...her boyfriend committed suicide (from a third year class) by hanging himself on a high tree in the forest. His body was already decaying when it was found a week.

Sugar Daddie
Some students are lucky when they have relatives in town or kind tutor who adopt them like family member; or when they have parents who can afforded to put them to school or are also “lucky” when some girls find a ‘bigman’ who provides for all her needs in exchange of her body.

Search for an Answer
This is part of the life in Okola toady...often we had the idea of opening a student’s canteen to feed hungry students instead of a chaplain’s office; or a boarding house “safe for girls”...hand to mouth solution hand to mouth existence. But would be the best solution? What about the parents? The big African Family? What has happened to the traditional values of solidarity?

Crisis
We have so many questions that year for answers in a society where values are in crisis, in a deep crisis. And we live this crisis, we are part of it.
“Lord Jesus, you are still crucified today, and the poor groan with your cry:
“I thirst...”
“Father, why have you abandoned me?” ...
Help Us Lord, We hardly Know what to Do
I know this Good Friday story is only one in a million of stories in our world where the poor become poorer, where power and money dominate, where profit and more profit become the new idols. Bela and Awossomo got help today, but what about tomorrow or next week, they still have 4 months to go before the school ends. I know it’s a drop in the ocean and perhaps that is why I fell I have to write their story: its for my own consolation as we try our best to share this drop in the ocean of poverty, exploitation, hunger...as the poor are still crucified everyday.

“Help us Lord to take you seriously in our preferential option for the poor.”

 

By: Gabriela Chin

Berulo is still very young. He became handicapped through an accident, three years ago. But he always keeps smiling and is very positive person. He is young. So he is always interested in women. When he meets me, he asks me many questions. You are a lay missionary? Can you get married? Do you like Filipinos?

Secret Love
One day, I talked about secret love during bible sharing. After that he always joked me, “Gabi you’re my secret love!”

A Carved Bird
One day, when I visited Kakayahan, (the house of the handicapped) Berulo was very sick. He had stone in his kidney. At that time, I couldn’t do anything I just stayed with him. Sometimes I held his hand. After that when he met, he seemed very shy; on my birthday he gave me a present a bird. He had made it himself. I was made of carabao horn. The bird had a flower in its mouth.

Avoiding the Question
One day, after the Mass, he was very serious and he asked me gently. “Gabi, if someone loves you very much, could you get married to him even if he is handicapped?” I was embarrassed and all I could say was, Berulo, hindi kita naintindihan.” (“I don’t understand.”) It’s my best way to avoid his question. I’m afraid because I don’t want to hurt him.

Special Smile
After two days, I went to the Kakayahan and I told him: “Berulo, I like you as a friend. I’d like to always remain your fried.” Later, when I visited Kakayahan for bible sharing, I thought he seemed to have a very special smile for me.

True Friends
I know when I feel very lonely or sad and someone is with us, we feel the warmth. I can understand Berulo a little more. I too have experience loneliness. And I too experienced the warmth. To love and to be loved is our natural desire. Agape, Eros. To love myself, to love people, to love God. I ask myself quietly “Gabi, what are you capable of giving the world?” Something, I hope. I can love and I can share.

By Fr Joseph Panabang SVD

Puti para sa Celebration
Hoping to motivate our candidates for baptism in my remotest village, I was telling the people that the best attire for occasions like weddings, ordinations, and baptism is white. True enough, during the baptism, almost everyone was in white and more beautifully, during the singing, they were waving in the air white handkerchiefs which according to their custom is a symbol of victory over satan; and of course, proud as a peacock, I was standing with my newly washed white shoes.

JuJu
Last year during Ash Wednesday, I gave the ashes to our parishioners. The line seemed endless which made me suspicious. After the Mass, I asked the catechist why there were so many people taking ashes. “Because even Muslims came believing that as is a juju” or anting-anting.

How to Terminate a Thermos
“If you want to serve your people long, take good care of your health,” advised an elderly Sister. That prompted me in my trek to bring a thermos flask for hot water. At the village, I told the cook, “please boil water for me” and handed her the thermos. A few minutes later, she came back, as if staring at me with furrowed brows and right hand pointing to the thermos, “shall I boiled water in it?” Good Lord, no,” and I explained. When the thermos came back, as if consoling a friend snatched from a gallows in the nick of time, I said, “you are lucky; what if the cook put you directly on the burning stove as she intended.”

Sobra Naman!
Like Asians, Ghanaians are so hospitable that if possible they would do everything for you. Once I was carrying a bucket of water to the bathroom which was just six steps away when my host who was just coming out of the kitchen saw me and said, “Oh no, please Father, let me carry you.” “No, thanks, I am too heavy,” I said. She laughed with me.

A Moment of True Sadness
It was a burial Mass in Soronoase but I did not know it was the first time such Catholic burials took place. The deceased was sick for quite long but kept his faith in god, an extraordinary feat among people who, when pressed against the wall or under severe pressure, would loose t heir faith in God and go back to old pagan practices. So, by way of an obituary, I was praising the man, touched so much by his faith and courage that I wept and could not talk anymore. At that moment everyone was crying in the church. Coming back from the cemetery I overheard people saying, “I thought a foreigner cannot cry for one of us.” Honestly, that revelation made me more sad.

Since December 1990, the mission was blessed with many roosters presented as gifts. Our cook of course has to give them justice over the pot. Then came January 2, 1991. Our cook fell down and sprained her ankle badly. She was limping and one old man who must has been observing our kitchen closely said jokingly to her, “you killed so many cocks that is why they punished you.” Watch out!

 

By: Fr. Paulino C. Sarac.

A young Filipino priest tells the steps he took which brought him to Chile, in Latin America as a volunteer missionary working with the Columbans.

39 Steps
I’m Fr. Paulino C. Sarac. I was ordained in 1978, and belong to the Vicariate of the Mountain Province, Luzon, Philippines. In 1985, I went down to Pagadian Diocese, Zamboanga del Sur, Mindanao for a vacation. There, the Columbans as if I could take charge for sometime of San Pablo Parish. It’s a parish that was vacant for a while after Rev. John Wanaurny was transferred to Brazil. I accept and took care for almost two years. While there, Rev. Dan O’ Malley, who was the superior, asked if I was interested in an overseas mission. My reaction was yes, but first to ask the permission of my bishop. My bishop at that time was Msgr. Emeliano Madanggeng. The answer was positive, we made all necessary arrangements like psychological test, contract, passport, and visa. After these things, I flew to Australia for a Missiology course- a Latin America; then to Cochabamba Bolivia, for five months, to learn Spanish.

Desert and the Sky
After the language course, I was assigned to Iquique, a desert part of Chile, up to the North. Some say it’s the driest part of the world. It took me a couple of months to be accustomed to the barren land and mountains on one side, the blue roaring Pacific Ocean on the other side, and another blue but calm up in the sky. I was most consoled when I read the National Geographic magazine saying that even in a desert place there are more than 500 living species God’s creation. Among them of course are the amiable people whom we work with for.

Dancing
One distinguishing mark of the life of the people is their popular religiosity. They express their faith in dancing artistically, especially during feast days. The parish priest was Rev. Arsenio Redulla, the first Filipino volunteer priest to the missionary Society of St. Columban. He is now a permanent member of the society.

Home to P. R.
In 1990, I went home for three months vacation, very happy to see gain my folks, full of stories and photos of remembrance of Chile. Truly, the mission experience is enriching, even learning many more things that what one could share. I’m thankful for the opportunity the Missionary Society of St. Columban offered me.

Flowers and Snow
I returned to Chile after my vacation and towards the end of 1990, I was transferred to Vallenar, part of the Diocese of Copiapo with Fr. Patrick Egan. It’s still north of Chile, but a little bit green. It was in 1991 when we got a surprise three days of rain. Would you believe it, after a couple of months, kilometers of fascinating varieties of wild flower covered the valleys and lower mountains. Meanwhile, the high mountains turned white, I mean they became covered with snow.

Floods
The sudden extensive rain caused terrible damage everywhere as no one was used to such torrents. Houses roads, canals were not built for rain. Here, any good Christian would remember at once the parable of the wise and foolish builder, where one built his house on the rock and the other built his on sand.
Meanwhile I am in-charge of the Youth Ministry in the parish and I also look after some of the small communities. This missionary experience has meant so much to me that I feel a very special gratitude to the Society of St. Columban who facilitated me. Long live the S.S.C.

 

By: Sr. Perlita Ponge

Sr. Perlita is a Filipino Columban who worked in Peru as a missionary. Having been transferred to the Columban mission in Pakistan she describes her new beginning.

“OUR HOLY WEEK celebration started on Holy Thursday, when Fr. Brendan Kennedy brought Sr. Maureen Donhoe and me to, a Parkari Kohli village. We arrived at 6:00 p.m. and were greeted by the village elders. After drinking a welcome glass of cold water, we went house to house meeting the villagers. The men were busy  preparing a meal in huge pots while the women cleaned up around their homes.

Strange Mounds
The colorful clothes they wore stood out in sharp contrast to the dusty paths and mud walls of the houses. Outside each housed was a mound of dried mud. We were told that grains is stored inside the mounds. To make sure we had understood, one woman broke a hole in one of the mounds.

 Speaking with Signs
As the sun went down we sat with a group of women and children trying to communicate as best we could through signs. Here we had our first language class, picking up words from them and sharing in their delight when we pronounced them correctly.

Feeding the Five Thousand
As the darkness fell, everyone gathered at the centre of the village for supper. As we sat their on the path beneath the starry sky and looked around, the feeding of the five thousand seemed to be happening again as food was passed around everyone ate.

Adoration
During the Mass, held in the open air, sweets and flowers were offered as gifts and then distributed to everyone at the end of the Mass. This was something new for us. After the Mass we walked in procession in the moonlight to a house the Adoration of the Blessed Sacraments was to take place. They haven’t even a small chapel in the village.

Women don’t Attend Funerals
On Good Friday we visited a Punjabi community of people who work in one of the sugar mills. Before the service we were asked to pray for a woman of the community who had died. We followed others to the house where we found men praying and women crying and lamenting
We were surprised to find that the woman had already been buried. But then we were told that women don’t attend burials and so they continue to grieve together long after the burial.

 

Not Like the Philippines
On the Holy Saturday, we stayed in the parish. The Church was a blaze of colors. A small group came for the service. It was estranged to be with so few people after Holy week in Peru and the Philippines where large crowds gather for the services.

Intriguing Musical Instruments
Easter Sunday was quite a contrast as many came dressed in every color imaginable. It was really a festive occasion. We were intrigued by the musical instruments and the beauty of music and singing. Small children put rose garlands around Fr. Denis Carter, the celebrant.

Muslim Greets Christians
During the Mass a man walked up to the altar, gave flowers to Fr. Denis and placed a garland on the  Statue of Our Lady. He noticed us and placed rose petals in our hands. He then threw flowers into the Church. We discovered later he was a Muslim who had come to greet the people for Easter. After the Mass, everyone gathered and had a meal together.

A Beginning
This Easter experience marked the beginning  of our mission among the people of the Sind. It was challenging, surprising and life giving.

 

“I got on the bus and sat down. The seat beside me remained empty. When the conductor came he demanded I pay for the two seats –mine and the vacant one beside me. I was a woman, a foreigner, and in his eyes I had no right to be out on my own. Women in Pakistan are not the favored gender.”

-a Columban Sister

By: Fr. Ray T. Saber, MSC

All Sea Farers
The Apostleship of the Sea is a Catholic institution based in Palazzo San Calisto, Vatican City. In many major seaports of the world this institution has branches popularly known among seafarers as “Stella Maris.” The Apostleship of the sea aims to promote the pastoral care of the maritime people. The term maritime people, means “all those who go down to the sea in ships.” This includes all seafarers.

Inchon, Korea
In Inchon City, the Apostleship of the Sea got started on February 19, 1991. The bishops of Inchon, most Rev. William J. Mc Naughton, appointed me Fr. Raymond Sabio, as full-time chaplain of the Apostleship of the Sea. I am a Filipino member of the Missionaries of the Sacred Heart. Parenthecally, Stella Maris- Pusan started 4 years earlier. The chaplain is Fr. Pedro C. Arguillas, MSC.

Many Problems
Vital to this apostolate is ship visitation. Through this activity, the chaplain is in direct contact with the seafarers themselves. He acquires a first hand knowledge of the living condition as well as the problems (if there are any) on board. Some of the problems are: non-payment salary ( 3 or 4 months); insufficient food; lack of fire fighting equipment; un seaworthy vessel; absence of heating system in winter. Moreover, there are also personal and family problems that complicate further situation. When the going becomes very rough, a seafarer loses his sense of concentration. In this case, accidents could happen.

One Thing in Mind...Money
Pastoral counseling helps sort out the personal, psychological and family problems of the seafarers. Some could easily resolved; the others are somewhat serious. In one extreme case, a seafarer had to be repatriated after having lost his sanity. Time chartered ships demand a lot of work. Cargo should be unloaded as quickly as possible so that the ships could depart for the next destination. Once, a seafarer told me, “This company has one thing in mind...money. Our physical and mental health is not their priority.”

Loneliness
Visitation of hospitalized seafarers is also important. Being hospitalized in a foreign land is not the best thing that could happen to anyone. Some seafarers lost their limbs; others suffered third degree burns. The absence of an acquaintance and family members exacerbates not only his painful condition but also his loneliness, what with the language barrier present!

 

Shedding Tears
The celebration of the Holy Mass and other sacraments on board the ship is very much appreciated. I witnessed many expressions of deep faith. Some seafarers shed tears during the Holy Mass. Others expressed their feelings of gratitude, “Father, it is so good of you to take time out to be with us, and avail us with Holy Mass. We are spiritually refreshed. Our last Mass was 6 months ago.” I never heard such comments in my past years of priestly ministry to land- based Christian.

Big Day
Few months earlier, we set June 14, 1992 as the date for SEAFARERS’ SUMMER BIG DAY in Inchon. With the great assistance of the Harbor Workers’ Apostolate headed by Mr. Alex Lee and the United Seamen’s Service under the dictatorship of Mr. Charlie Wong, preparations were made.

200 Attended
On the date itself, the Bishop of Inchon, His Excellency Most Rev. William J. McNaughton, presided over the celebration of the Holy Mass, assisted by myself (parish priest of Yong-jong). The solemnity of the occasion touched the hearts of about 200 persons who showed up for the occasion. The subsequent activities of snacks, musical program, folk dance, singing contest and raffles made the day a very memorable one for the seafarers, their acquaintances and friends.

One Foot in the Grave
Seafarers deserve our respect, appreciation and whole hearted service. In order to bring the goods of the world to our doorsteps, they have risked their lives. As one seafarers said, “The moment a seafarers boards the ship, he has one foot in the grave.”

By: Bro. Bernard Collera, SVD Seminarian

Celebrate and Dance
I am an SVD Seminarian in Taiwan, but as a baptized Catholic, I am a missionary too, though I am still in formation my stay here in Taiwan is indeed a missionary experience. Taiwan has 200 million more people, and only 3% of these are Christian, half of these 3% are Catholics the rest are Protestants. I am fortunate to have lived with native Catholics here during my regency in Tefuyeh where our Divine Word Missionaries (SVD) are actively committed to the evangelization of the Tsou tribe. I enjoyed that short period, and was able to enter rather smoothly and happily as evidenced by my dancing with them during times of celebration. Indeed life is worth celebrating (despite the world class catastrophes we’ve been having these years) with a smile.

Filipinos: Fast Learners
My regency followed two years of Chinese (Mandarin) studies in the university’s language center where we Filipinos are noted to be fast and happy learners of the language, making it a plus for easy insertion into culture.

Inspite of Poverty
Fortunately, or unfortunately again, no Chinese would immediately think I am a Filipino. They often tell me I am either a Malaysian or Thai or Indonesian or Singaporean or Hongkong-ese or Cantonese due to many Chinese accent. (I am happy for this latter one). There is a certain pain when the fun