On 5th October 1995, a group of young men from Kolping Vocational Training Centre at Kilimambogo (Thika, Kenya) were sent to Nariokotome Mission (in Turkana) to build some houses and I was among those who were selected for this work experience. I never thought that in my life-time I would leave Thika, my home place, and find myself in this semi-arid land which I had only learnt and heard about in school. I remember vividly my first night at the mission; I could not sleep because of the tremendous heat that had me almost surrendering and heading back to Thika. Only the lack of means of public transport made me change my mind and stay! 

A year later, in 1996, I found life totally different mainly because of the people working at Nariokotome Mission. For instance, Patrick Cheseto and Julius Wanyama together with their families were signs of humility for me and this made me feel quite at home. I also had several encounters with Frs. Avelino and Fernando. Through them I discovered that a priest can also work in the garden and irrigate the plants! All these experiences touched my heart and I found myself accompanying them whenever they would go out for masses on Sundays or any other activity. 

I was always silent simply because I could not express myself well in English, like most of my colleagues. This, however, did not keep me away from Avelino and Fernando, after a busy Sunday with masses at the outstations, they would give me a loaf of bread and a packet of milk to carry back to my room. They would also invite me to go for a swim whenever the opportunity arose. My relationship and attachment to the mission and the two priests grew stronger and it is through this that my vocation began. Eventually, I stopped working in the construction site and declared my desire to become a priest. 

My journey towards the priesthood started in January 1997, when I began studying Philosophy and Theology, and ended on 8th December 2008, when I was ordained a priest at St. Mary’s Catholic Parish, Tombura County in the Catholic Diocese of Tombura-Yambio in South Sudan. This was one of the happiest moments in my life. I shed tears of joy. I could not believe that my long and winding journey to the priesthood had finally reached its course. I shared my joy with those who spent seven days on the road driving from our different missions in Turkana to attend my ordination in South Sudan that is one moment I will never forget. 

Many people keep asking me: Why South Sudan and not Kenya where I discovered my vocation? My answer is al-ways the same: “God calls and sends, as we read from Scripture.” In this context, I therefore believe that He called, and later sent me to South Sudan in order to continue with His mission; I have no doubt about this. 

I only knew Sudan through the news about the war that was raging there and truly it was not easy for me to gather the courage needed to enter this country. But, as the saying goes, where there is a will there is always a way! And after crossing the two borders of Uganda and Sudan (before the South separated from Khartoum), the late Bishop Joseph Gassi, the first Bishop of Tombura-Yambio, received me. He thought I was mad when I told him that I wanted to remain in Sudan. I spent two years in the Catholic Diocese of Tombura-Yambio learning the Zande language and culture. This was the moment when I decided to leave everything and make my final leap towards the priesthood. I did not know anybody save the few seminarians I met in Uganda during my theological studies and the Bishop who accepted me as a candidate. That period of my life’s journey unfolded during the time when war raged between the two tribes in the region as well as the invasion by the LRA (The Lord Resistance Army) rebels from Uganda. 

When I shared about my going to Sudan with Avelino his feedback was positive and encouraging. It was then that the official settling down and taking root in Sudan began, in May 2005. I also thank Fr. Paco who neither objected nor raised any doubts about my going to this strange country. His acceptance was a sign of blessing to me. In one of our conversations over the phone, he gave me strong words of encouragement and he kept doing so whenever we met; this happened continuously until the day he left us. I realized about his passion for the mission in Sudan because of his insistence and optimism that he would be brought to visit me in South Sudan, even though he was sick and weak. May his soul rest in eternal peace! 

Some of my brother diocesan priests thought that I only came to be ordained and then leave the country. But after their visit to the mission where I had been assigned, and seeing the effort and work that had been done, they now realize that I came to stay as a missionary and not only to be ordained. This is Ave Maria Mission, the second oldest mission founded by the Comboni Missionaries in the diocese in 1922 after Mupoi Mission. Though little and with still a long way to go, we are happy with all that has been done and still being done in the mission. 

Agriculture is one of the ways through which our mission is growing and becoming self-reliant. Within the last two and a half years, the mission has supported the returnees of the LRA war and displacement with tools and seedlings, and by drilling 7 water points with the help of our partners: Adrian from IRT and Anne and Jeff from JUM TRUST, both from the United Kingdom. They also built a school for the children in the village of Ave Maria in order to promote early stages of education before joining primary school.

Accepting the call and leaving everything in order to follow Christ is not an easy task. Whenever I look at my background, I see many things that would have made it impossible for me to reach the priesthood. 

I knew that one of the requirements to become a priest was a high qualification in secondary school, which I did not have. With time, and after the doors were opened for me to begin my studies for the priesthood, I came to realize that when God calls you, He does not consider a grade or qualification. The first apostles of Jesus were men without academic grades, and this thought gave me courage during the time of my studies. The key I am totally convinced to this journey is the deep awareness that the mission I am carrying out is for Christ. He uses me as an instrument to accomplish his mission and therefore provides all that I need for the effective fulfilment of this very mission. 

I joined the Missionary Community of St. Paul the Apostle (MCSPA) family without the grade that could allow me to begin my studies for the priesthood in any other religious congregation or diocese. The MCSPA, through Avelino, put their trust and confidence in me and that is why I am what I am at this very moment. The seed of my vocation was discovered, planted and nurtured and for that reason I consider myself fruit of the work of the MCSPA. 

Fr. Joseph Githinji, MCSPA 

In 1981, I found a new way of life and I still think of it as a dream from which I do not want to be awakened. Before that, I remember having a feeling of quiet-ness, of a happy and peaceful family, but at the same time a feeling of impotence when seeing what was going on in the rest of the world. For as long as I can remember, I recall my mother giving sandwiches at the door of our house to a gipsy woman, Tomasa, and her six children (I believe that my mother paid the education of three of them). As a child I would ask my mother, ‘why are this people so poor?’. I grew up and things were going well for me, but I continued having a sense of dissatisfaction. “Is there something else?” I would think. I liked many things: my studies, the group of friends from my parish, boys… but nothing was enough. Until one day I was forced to attend, I have to admit, a Mass celebrated every year in my town, in the ruins of a castle. To my surprise, the priest celebrating the Mass was not the usual person who was there every year, but a priest from out of town, with a beard: his name was Paco, and people said that he was the new parish priest at Saint Nicasio, a church in a marginal neighbourhood in the outskirts of town. As I had been born in the downtown area, I did not even know it existed. After the celebration, something inside me, I am not sure what, pushed me to greet him. I think I told him I was happy for his visit or something like that. He was accompanied by a group of young men and women that reminded me of the actors in “Jesus Christ, Super Star”, a movie that was popular at that time. I went to him with two friends from my “scout” group. I thought that he would not pay attention to me, but to my surprise they invited us for dinner the following Thursday at 8 p.m. That day at 6:30 someone called on the phone, on behalf of the priest, asking if I liked lentils…

When I went with my two friends, everything seemed as if we were in a movie: we found a group that worked together and got along well with each other.

Paco invited us to work at his parish, where the church was a garage and where the poorest people of town lived. This filled me with great enthusiasm. Finally I could do something for the world that brought so much sorrow to my heart.

Thus began a fascinating story. We provided food for the gipsy children that came to the parish looking for help (sometimes they would steal the purses from the women who came to Mass). We took them on weekends to the beach, the mountains; we looked for doctors for them, and got milk for the poor schools in town. We also prepared the Sunday masses: we planned the liturgies and practiced the songs. In order to take the children out during summer we needed money to pay for transportation and food, and to our surprise people began to help us. We… a bunch of young, long-haired people! Since then I started to live with the certainty that God was there, giving me energy, strength, and showing his providence.

Paco would talk to me about the women in the Gospel and I thought: ‘how is it that I had never noticed that there were women in the Gospel that left everything to follow Christ?’ “The women who had come with him from Galilee” (Lk 23:55). Why had no one explained all this to me? How interesting! I was more and more convinced: this was what I wanted for the rest of my life. 

I had always done well in my studies and in everything I set out to do. Now, finally, I had a plan that was beyond me: God, through that priest, was challenging me to do what had been a constant challenge in my life since then, to try to be like the women in the Gospel, brave and generous, witnesses to the Resurrection of Jesus and bearers of life to the ends of the world. 

Things started to get difficult because not everybody saw things the way I did, especially my friends and family. However, the more difficult they made it for me the more sure I was about what I wanted (I have to recognize that back then I was not very good at dialogue).

I was going to University to study philosophy and dreamt about being completely free, to leave my current life behind and live in the community Paco had started with some young people from his previous parish. When I visited they would let me cook, iron; we would talk for hours. The women talked about going to Africa. It was 1983 when the first women left for Kenya. I thought it was intriguing: to live together, study, travel and help people who suffer, improve the world… that was what I wanted.

When I finished my studies in philosophy, I had already visited Kenya and started to study nursing, a requirement they asked in order to obtain work permits in Africa. Besides studying, we worked in strengthening the civil association we had established, looking for collaborators and gathering funds to help people in Spain and Kenya. During those years we signed the first contract with the European Union for a health project in Turkana, Kenya… us! We were aware that we were starting the greatest business of all: making the world a better place. We also had the best boss, our Father, who leads us to participate in his humanity and divinity. 

Not everything has been easy in all these years. I felt unhappy seeing so many people of the world suffer, and I’m still saddened by the fact that the world will not treat well those who try to stop the suffering. Quite often we do not receive the support and understanding we need to continue fighting for a better world. 

In the years that I have been part of the community, I have lived in several countries: in Kenya, Germany, Ethiopia, Mexico, back in Ethiopia… always trying to feel compassionate with the ones who suffer, always with the certainty that I have a strength that is not mine. The challenges and surprises continue, the call I received is still present, Paco’s authentic and strong proposal continues there, and other young people have decided to follow this path of the Gospel through me. Isn’t that a surprise? I dream everyday of those who will come, those who will add to the group of women and men that follow Christ’s light, that go from one place to another being witnesses to something big. I thank Paco for paying attention to me, inviting me to live this life; to my brothers and sisters in faith, for this adventure of loving each other till the end; and above all I thank Him who sees everything, for being there.

Here I am now, knowing that I am unworthy of being a part of this human and divine story, which is like a dream I do not want to be awakened from… it feels like the Kingdom of Heaven which begins on this earth, though still full of suffering and misunderstanding. From here we catch a glimpse of the future, a glimpse of God’s pale shadow that awaits us with open arms.

Lourdes Larruy, MCSPA

The endless horizon seemed to be ablaze with the fire from the sunset and the Naita Mountains appeared as a dark and remote silhouette. Wherever you looked, there were no obstacles to mark the view, the senses; we had the impression of being the only souls for many kilometres around. We were surrounded by nature in its purest form. Now in the diminishing light of the evening, we began preparing the camp in this remote but magical place, halfway between Nyangatom and Surma in Ethiopia. Before dinner, we celebrated the first Catholic mass in this corner of the world together with Rt. Rev. Dominic Kimengich, Bishop of the Diocese of Lodwar, where the Missionary Community of Saint Paul the Apostle (MCSPA) had been present for the last twenty-five years. 

It was the first night of a long trip from Turkana (Kenya) to Ethiopia that would make history: never before had a Kenyan bishop visited another bishop in Ethiopia by land, at least not through these vast regions of south-western Ethiopia, where the Catholic Church has never been present. At mass, we prayed for Paco, who had passed away about two weeks earlier. We felt him very close as we were realizing his dream, a dream that he had passed on to us and with which we had fallen in love. It is the dream of building missions “from Turkana to Alexandria”, centres of life for the people around them, just as Nariokotome has been all these years. 

Thanks to this dream of Paco, we have been embarked on this missionary adventure of founding a new mission among the Nyangatom that live in southwestern Ethiopia, for the last five years. 

Who could have known that I would end up here! Nobody would have thought it possible as I come from El Prat de Llobregat, a village in the “red belt” of Barcelona, from a good though non-practising family, from an environment in which being Christian was almost a “sin” and being a priest was categorized as sheer “madness”. 

That is how I got to know the people who, by fixing their gaze on me and believing that it was possible, were going to gradually change the course of my life: Lourdes, Paco and all my brothers and sisters from the MCSPA with which I now share my life and my dreams. 

I met Lourdes when I was pursuing a certificate in multimedia. I loved photography and communication as means for capturing both the beauty of the world but also its cruelty and injustices. 

It was a time of great changes in society, of demands for freedom such as the World Tour of Bruce Springsteen on Human Rights, the fall of the Berlin Wall, the freeing of Mandela and the end to apartheid. On one hand, I wanted to contribute to change the injustices of the world, but, on the other, I only dared to be “behind the camera”. 

Due to my personality, I had always preferred to be a mere spectator in life, protected from the dangers that could come from the world. Getting to know the Community helped me start losing the fear of being “in front of the camera”, and to be the protagonist of my own story, of what was happening before me, becoming gradually more conscious of the fact that God was calling me to come out of my refuge and to seek my happiness by giving myself to others. 

One of the most beautiful things I remember when I first met my new friends was the feeling of being able to trust them in the long run. I was not only able share from 8am to 2pm or over weekend drinks, but I could count on them for life … When we talked or discussed something, we would get to the very bottom of it and we could speak of our attitudes, of what we could change, and of improving ourselves, the world and the people around us. 

I heard about Jesus of Nazareth for the first time in my life and it was to me an incredible discovery! 
Step by step, I started helping my new friends to take care of children from marginalized families. 

Hearing them speak every now and again about Africa, about Turkana, talking, sharing and getting to know those that were coming and going to Africa, I slowly fell in love with these friends, their lifestyle, their constant fight to improve the life of those who were suffering wherever they were and so I answered their invitation to leave everything and follow Christ. During all these years, I learnt first to be a person, to see the needs of others before my own, to be compassionate, as others were many times more compassionate with me, to be constantly available for others what we call a “permanent flexibility”. This is a great treasure that we owe to Paco. 

There were also dark moments which taught me to always look at tribulations, our limitations and even our human relations with a supernatural eye, looking far beyond them and accepting that everything has a profound meaning if only we were to transcend them and perceive in these things the hand of Jesus, of God. And then came the springtime, our priestly ordination sixteen years ago! Going out to the field, breathing in and savouring the gift of ordination. And soon after, marching into the arena to fight the bull; that is how we learnt that helping others was not so easy. With Albert, I began my floundering steps as a young priest; I learnt dedication to the faithful, to make homilies that entertained but stuck, to build dams, to deliver the hope and healing power of Jesus to the sick. All these, helped me to get closer to the Lord: taking care of the widow, the orphan and the foreigner. Especially, taking care of Gregory, (who had become an orphan and is now 20 years old). Pablo (who suffered from osteomyelitis in the femur and almost lost his life but, after years of battling it, is now healed and is 21years old), and little Joseph, (who is 13 years old and suffers from a severe juvenile rheumatoid arthritis). 

Unknown to them, they have been the ones who have given me the chance of meeting with Jesus and of strengthening my faith, just as the Gospel tells us about the people who bore the stretcher for the paralytic so that Jesus could heal him (Lk 5: 17-26). 

Some new challenges arose after that: working in Saint Augustine’s Cathedral in Lodwar, and there, together with our Emeritus Bishop Rt. Rev. Patrick Harrington, starting Radio Akicha (which means “light” in Turkana). This station was the first Catholic radio station in the whole of northern Kenya and is still functioning and trying to deliver “light” to the people of Lodwar and its surroundings. 

Then I found myself returning once again to my dear parish at Lokitaung, before crossing the final frontier towards the new mission at Nyangatom, still trying to deliver real and specific Good News to those that have been forgotten by the globalized world and are enslaved by hunger, thirst, sickness and ignorance. 

Then five years ago, my colleague Fr. David Escrich and I, left everything behind again and took a journey to the unknown. We arrived to Nyangatom with very few resources, and set up a mission camp in one of the remotest villages in Nyangatom, among the pastoralists. We concentrated our efforts in giving water to people, and so far we have drilled 13 boreholes in the area. We have also given assistance to many sick people who had no access to medical treatment. Five years down the line, we are now settled in the mission of Prince of Peace, a beautiful hill called Naturomoe, from where we wish to continue being a light for the people around.

Fr. Ángel Valdivia López, MCSPA 

I left my parents’ home in Malaysia when I was 14 years in order to go to study in Singapore. I got a scholarship from the government of Singapore and I eagerly left to live on my own in another country. One might say that I tried to live intensely … wanting to do as many things as possible, to try out and experience all things possible, to fall in and out of love, to question my religious beliefs and to test my relationship with God.

After Hwa Chong Junior College (senior high school for A-Levels), which was – and still is – one of the more prestigious educational institutions in Singapore, like several of my fellow classmates, I went on to read law at the National University of Singapore (N.U.S.). Again, I lived life intensely in the positive and negative senses! It was the two years at NUS that I entered into spiritual and emotional turmoil. It was a time of “disenchantment” with everything. In my first year holidays, I travelled to Turkey and spent a great deal of time there and hitch-hiked across Europe – times were so different then – from Diyarbakir in Eastern Turkey to Dingle in Ireland. Then the second year, I went alone to trek in the North West Frontier Province of Pakistan. I was opened to the world and its peoples. I found it hard to return to a life enclosed by four walls. The routine and the mundane killed my spirit. I questioned many things that I had taken for granted all my life – relationships, goals in life, God. I longed for the freedom and open spaces. I felt a great and deep emptiness in my life, and yet I could not put my finger as to what exactly it was. It depressed me, and made me lose interest in my studies and in the prospects of a life as a lawyer. I was 21 years old.

Then came the great famine in East Africa with Ethiopia being especially hit. Bob Geldof was mobilizing food relief with “Feed The World”. Even at the N.U.S. we did our part to raise funds to send to Ethiopia. Some of us from Law Faculty actually danced at a concert! While it was good to be doing something for a cause, I felt that it was insufficient … I had to do something more. What hit me most was the famous photo of the emaciated child with a vulture standing nearby. 

It was then that I decided that I would travel to Africa. That second year of Law School was especially turbulent for me. I had almost lost all interest in studies. Instead I became more and more interested in Africa. I would spend hours in the libraries of the university, looking up books on Africa – its geography, politics, history, anthropology etc. I read widely and took notes of the countries on the continent. And I began to plan for a trip there.

Naturally, when the final exams for 2^ndYear came, I failed impressively. All my friends extended their condolences, and my parents were devastated. But I lost just one night’s sleep because the next day, I decided with all clarity of mind and unity of purpose, that I would leave the university and go to Africa to discover something … what, I still did not know!

Then the movie The Mission hit the screens, and this moved me even more to question what I was doing with my life. How could I be content with what I had around me without doing anything for the many who had less. After I happily dropped out of the university, I went to help at the camp for the Vietnamese “Boat People” at Sembawang that existed then. I found deep satisfaction in that. 

I realised that I had to earn money to sustain me if I were ever to make it to Africa. My father would not support me financially for obvious reasons. I had to give private tuition for many hours each day to earn and save the money I needed. I began to work out a plan: I would spend two years travelling across Africa and enter Europe through Spain and end up in Belgium to study journalism. And along the way, I would work as a volunteer at a mission for some months. It all sounded fantastic!

A close friend of mine was studying at the Royal College of Surgeons in Ireland at the time. At my request, she sent me a list of 23 missions in Africa that had some kind of health facility. Little did I know then that there were thousands of missions all over Africa! I wrote to all 23 and I was sure that they would be so keen to welcome a young man from Singapore to volunteer work there … but no one replied except one. It was the Bishop of Lodwar Diocese in Turkana in Kenya. I looked up the Collins Atlas that I had at home and “Lodwar” didn’t appear on the map of East Africa, and I thought, “This must be the place!” I still have this first letter from Bishop John Mahon, and I treasure it. He invited me over to visit Lodwar and to work at a mission called Lowarengak Catholic Mission in the north of the diocese on the border with Ethiopia. With that, I gave away everything I had; the few things that I thought were absolutely dear to me, I stashed away in a carton box. Thirty two years later, that box is still in the store of my parent’s home … 

My parents were concerned about me – where was I heading to, existentially and professionally? What future was I carving out from all this? They tried to advice and guide; they never pushed. They weren’t happy with my decision to leave the N.U.S. and go to Africa. There were so many reasons for objecting: a dismal prospect for the future; the dangers of traveling to and in Africa; all that wasted time etc. But when they saw that I was adamant, I think they realised that I needed the time to seek. 

I bought a large map of Africa, framed it and hung it up on the wall at their home so that they would be able to follow my movement across Africa, so I figured. I left Malaysia and Singapore in 1987 and went Europe, then to Cairo and finally into Nairobi, the capital city of Kenya. 

Throughout this initial part of the trip, I was alone but I never felt lonely. I missed my family but not my former life. I looked forward to the unknown in Africa with my whole heart and embraced each day and the surprises that it brought. I kept my parents updated about my movements. Phone calls were expensive. I had to write long letters and send it to them by snail mail! In those days, I could only receive mail from them by “post restante” at local post offices of cities where I passed by. My dad, I learnt many years later, looked forward to news from me, and he studied every word and every sentence carefully so as to glean a clearer picture of the circumstances that were shaping his son’s life. And my mother, I knew, kept praying for me throughout.

From Nairobi, I went up to the Turkana region about 1,000 km away to the north. Turkana land is a semi-desert into which I first entered hitching a ride on a lorry that was filled to the top with sacks of maize and beans. I was perched above those sacks together with a traditional Turkana man (dressed only with a blanket and a headgear with feathers) and his family – they were the first Turkanas I met. I still recall, as the lorry made its way across the yellow plains of Turkana dotted with scrub and thorn trees towards Lodwar town, the freedom and happiness in my heart because at last I was moving along in my dream to be in Africa.

I have never for a single moment regretted my decision to go to Africa, to chose a different path, to make that total change in my life. I could not and still cannot imagine how my life would have been if I had not dared take those steps. 

When I reached Lodwar, I made my way to “the Diocese” which was the hill where the bishop lived and the diocesan offices were located. It was the center of much activity as the Church was a key player in the relief effort and development work in Turkana ever since the 1960s. Bishop John Mahon, an Irish missonary, was a pioneer missionary to Turkana. He was surprised to see me standing in front of his door that day in December of 1987 – never in his wildest dreams did he envisage a young man from Malaysia actually making his way there. 

I was even more surprised at our first meeting: the good bishop was in shorts and boots, and constantly surrounded by children and workers. He was a canon lawyer by training and also a builder. All over Turkana, Bishop Mahon personally built schools, dispensaries, a hospital, churches, convents … In him, I learnt that Christ was to be found in the person, and not in all the laws and regulations and restrictions. We have so many of those in the Catholic Church that even a Pharisee would be proud!

Bishop Mahon’s favourite verse from Scripture was Luke 4, the part when Jesus reads quoting Isaiah: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to proclaim the good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour.”

He did this literally: feeding the hungry, educating the downtrodden, giving work to those bowed down, building a hospital to cure the sick and a school for the blind … I learnt that the gospels were not just mere words! Action was needed too!

After our first meeting in Lodwar, in December 1987, Bishop Mahon asked me to go to the mission of Lowarengak in the north. There was no public transport there – these were extremely remote places then and still are to this day. So I got a lift on a diocesan lorry bringing relief food to Lowarengak village. There, I met for the first time a Spanish woman who turned out to be a nurse belonging to a group of missionaries from Spain. Cecilia Puig and other members of the lay community were very welcoming, and I felt at home with them instantly. It was my first contact with persons who would eventually become known as the Missionary Community of St. Paul the Apostle. 

I accompanied them on their mobile clinics around and talked extensively about many things. Those conversations planted the seed of a vocation in me. A few months later, I met the priest who started this community, Fr. Francisco Andreo. People called him Fr. Paco or simply, Paco, as he prefered to be called. 

Paco was never indifferent to the needs and suffering of others. He moved those around him to find solutions to situations of need that other persons were in, to solve problems. And Paco constantly called others to leave everything behind and to follow a life of service. And I was included in that invitation which he made so passionately and intensely such that I couldn’t say no! But it was an acceptance that matured and grew more profound with time. It was through Paco that I began to understand the gospels, life in a community and as a family. I began to get a glimpse of what being a priest and a missionary was all about, but this understanding had to be deepened and widened with time. I was 24 years old then and already I had been drawn into a life of caring for others – the children, the hungry, the sick, the elderly, the youth – and looking after them from head to toe. 

And thus I began to live my life as a missionary with the Missionary Community of St. Paul the Apostle. Paco couldn’t stand to see a hungry child, and so all the day’s events and life in the mission was to see how there would be food – how to produce, to cultivate, to rear and grow … fruit, crops, animals. We needed water in that semi-arid land, and so we worked to drill boreholes, build dams … All this taught us to work to provide for the people who were thirsty and hungry. And thus our missions developed into centres of agricultural production, and water resource development.

Life was not easy, certainly. Conditions were harsh, back-breaking almost. Those were the early days when we were just establishing the missions, setting things up. Everything was a challenge … even making a phone call! But I took it all in and enjoyed life – the people, the work, the challenges, community life, the discovery of the gospels in relation to my daily life. It was like “a revelation to the Gentiles”!

I realised much later that my parents would object and oppose certain decisions of mine, but when they saw that I was certain of my decision, then they would relent. That I wanted to live in Africa already meant too many uncertainties for my parents, especially my late father. Now, their son wanted to be a priest IN AFRICA … goodness, that was too much! 

I remember my father pleading with me, “Be a priest here!” But I argued that my roots were in Turkana; that I discovered my vocation there with this Community, in the milieu of the Turkana landscape and people, and under the Bishop of Lodwar. I could not cut off my roots and be transplanted elsewhere!

When I was ordained a priest, my dad was with a full-blown cancer of the bone, and my mother had to remain at home to look after him. They could not attend my ordination which was on August 15^th, 1997, at Nairobi, Kenya. I was ordained together with Antonio and Manolo. A month before my dad passed away, my sister called me to say that his condition was worsening. But I still did not think it was necessary to return. However Paco insisted that I leave immediately and go to take care of my father. I did so and spent a couple of weeks in the hospital with my dad. One night, I noticed that he got out of bed slowly and with great difficulty and shuffled towards the mirror. He looked at himself in the mirror and then shuffled slowly back to the bed. I asked him if he was alright. But he ignored my question and delved into something more profound. Seated on the edge of the hospital bed, he said, “Son, if I had to live my life all over again, I would be a priest like you …” I was moved and tears welled up in my eyes. I muttered, “If you did so, then I wouldn’t exist”! And he went on to say that now that he was at the end of his life, he could look back and see that all that one has done has been in vain … except the good that one does. To me, that was a confirmation that my father was truly happy and accepted my decision to be a priest in Africa. When he died in August 1999, my father’s funeral was the first I ever officiated as a priest. 

Since 2012, I have been in Manila, Philippines, where we have set up our formation house. We have our seminarians and priests studying there in preparation for work in Africa. As they follow their study programmes in philosophy and theology and other civil studies, they also help out with livelihood programmes at the Parola and Payatas slums, and with children and families from a nearby slum area. 

I am very grateful to God for many, many things in my life. If I had to live it all over again, I would go through the same thing with the same people! If I love this life of mine, then I have to be grateful to my parents, who gave me life. I am thankful for this wider family that is the Missionary Community of St. Paul the Apostle that Paco began and which God placed before me. I am totally grateful for His gift of the priesthood to me – there has not been a single moment in these last 22 years as a priest when I regreted this important decision in my life. There have been difficult and trying moments, but never any doubt at all that this has been and is the way and the life for me. I thank God for the younger men and women whom I had invited to follow in this life as a missionary … Lillian, Brian, Ambrose, Timothy, Stephen and others; they have been a source of anxiety but also great joy in their journey of being formed into women and men to serve those on the fringe of society. I am thankful for the many persons and events that God placed in my path and which have helped mould me. 

The greatest lesson which I have learnt from this life with the poor and marginalised, I think, must be the indomitable human spirit to survive, to improve and to push on despite all the odds. They teach me not to take life – and all that comes with it – for granted. It made – and continues to make – me question why some people have it all and others nothing at all. What is clear also is the amount of good that can be achieved when there is goodwill and hardwork, when each of us brings his or her 5 loaves and 2 fish. And there is no doubt about the deep and existential joy that we find in doing good for others.

Francis Teo Kian Seng, MCSPA

This year, it will be my 31st anniversary as a member of the Missionary Community of Saint Paul the Apostle (MCSPA). I will try to go through how it all began and how these past years have been.

One fine day in 1983, some of my friends invited me to attend a catechesis in preparation for Confirmation at San Nicasio Parish at Gavá (Barcelona) and from that moment on, many circumstances came up that made me go regularly to that parish. In the first place, Father Francisco Andreo, who was the Parish Priest then, asked us to take care of a group of Gypsy girls who lived in a marginalized neighbourhood near the parish. We started by looking for schools for them and bringing them to the doctor; in addition, they usually spent weekends and school holidays with us. In the second place, 

Father Francisco also requested us to take care of an elderly lady with three very young grandchildren who depended on her. We helped her clean the house and gave her food, which we got, from our families and friends. It was there, helping others together with the youth of the parish, that I started feeling that I had found a group of people with whom I could do things that meant something to me.

When in 1988, Father F. Francisco and some youth decided to move to Turkana in the north of Kenya, I thought that I was going to lose that group of people with whom I could completely identify. I could not let them go and remain there without doing anything. Making a decision was hard, but I finally decided to leave everything and join this group of devoted persons who would afterwards become the MCSPA. Through them, I discovered Jesus’ call and concluded that He wanted me to follow him through these persons. 

Due to a chronic illness for which there is no cure yet, I could not go to Africa for too many years. However, I was lucky enough to be able to take care of Pau Bernabé, a Turkana child with brain paralysis who lived with me in Spain for nine years. Taking care of Pau helped me appreciate what I had, value what God gives to each of us and persevere in my vocation and in the commitment that I had acquired. During that period, I adopted Santa Teresa’s words – “Patience obtains all things” – and hoped that one day I would be able to go to Africa. 

A few years later and with my doctors’ approval, I moved to Nairobi for two years. After this period, I opened, together with other members of the community, a new mission in México: we established a Mother-Child Centre in the district of Ajusco and started taking care of children that for one reason or another were left under our care and to whom we tried to give a better life. I spent 10 years in Mexico 

And finally now in Ethiopia, in-charge of a mission located at the south-west of the country, where I will hopefully be until God wishes me to go somewhere else where there will be more need. 

I hope that while I am in Ethiopia I will be able to see the fruits of our presence: children and youth who approach us and hopefully would one day decide to leave everything and follow Christ through us. This already happened in Mexico where we met some young women who are now members of the MCSPA and they are now living in Ethiopia, some even who thought could never be missionaries like us but through our example we planted in them a seed which makes them become better and continue ahead. 

I would be lying if I said that it has been a bed of roses; there have also been moments of disappointment and helplessness. However, the outcome is definitely positive: there have been more moments of happiness than of sadness, and I have received more than what I have given. 

What I know for sure is that God’s call to me is clear and that despite my chronic illness

He wants me alive: I could be already in Jesus’ arms enjoying His Kingdom, but I am not. He wants me here, serving Him, so that with my small contribution I may alleviate the suffering of some of the many that He has put in my path. 

I would like finally to thank God for this call to follow Him through F. Francisco and the rest of the members of the MCSPA. I would also like to thank each one, from the first to the last, those who are still here and those who have left us, because each one of them has had a huge impact on my life.

Rosa Murillo – MCSPA

There are many ways in which God can call us to follow him. The story of someone’s vocational call is thus unique, peculiar, and different from all the rest. In my case, at the end of my primary school my parents sent me to the Minor Seminary of our diocese in Ciudad Rodrigo (Spain).  They wanted me to complete my secondary education there and perhaps later on, if God would call me, to study for the priesthood. In the Minor Seminary I received a good and careful religious, academic and human formation. When I finished the secondary school I decided to continue my education at the University of Salamanca, to get ready for the adventure of life. The time I spent in Salamanca went by quickly and after three years I had finished my studies of Management for Tourist Companies. I was ready to start my professional life.

However, upon completion of the studies in Salamanca, instead of getting a job right away I decided to go to London to improve my knowledge of English. As a result of various circumstances I ended up living at St. Joseph’s College in London, which is the Central House of the St. Joseph’s Missionary Society (commonly known as the Mill Hill Fathers.)

I anticipated that my time of study in London would be somewhat grey and monotonous. I was wrong. Those years became a crucial period for me, during which my life would totally change, taking on a surprising direction.

Two seminarians from the Missionary Community of St. Paul the Apostle studied and lived at St. Joseph’s College at the time; they were Francisco Moro and Fernando Aguirre. I began going with them during my free time to the different tasks they were doing. Together we visited many times the Spanish-speaking community in Fulham, we participated in the spiritual retreats at the Benedictine Abbey of Ampleforth, and I went along with them to the missionary talks they where giving in different parishes where they were invited. Slowly, the flame of a religious vocation appeared in my life, even though I kept saying that I was not sure about becoming a priest, much less a missionary.

It was during my first visit to Africa in 1991 with Fr. Francisco Andreo when I clearly saw that my place to follow Christ was with the Missionary Community of St. Paul the Apostle, and the way was as a priest wherever God wanted to send me. That first visit occurred a long time ago, and today I continue working in Africa. When I look back and see my initial fears and doubts I realize that we must have more faith and trust in the often-unpredictable ways which God uses to invite us to follow Him.

Fr. Manuel Hernández MCSPA

For twenty five years, my life has been linked to this community; twenty two of them in Africa, and the last thirteen years as a priest. It is not easy for me to look back and to try to summarize my vocational journey in a few lines. I cannot say that I was a very religious person at first. I “discovered” God gradually, through the evidences, through an endless symphony of people, events, challenges, joys and defeats, which, I would say, were orchestrated by God Himself. 

I come from a humble family that migrated to Barcelona in search of work. When I was around sixteen or seventeen years old, I went through a phase of disenchantment with what society had to offer. I used to dream, in the rainy autumn evenings about changing the world with my songs. It was not that I had many songs or that I was any good at music, but it was more an aspiration than a fact! I suppose that almost everyone experiences something of the sort at that age, but at the end of it all, crude reality always ends up imposing itself. Before we realise it, we are swept away by a flash flood of events indispensable for our survival: studies, finding – and keeping – a job agreed, the almost-compulsory relationships, getting a car and a house, starting a family, making friends … The beast ends up drowned in the troubled waters of social responsibilities, taking with it all those chimeras; they are left aside on the background, forgotten in the drawer of those pleasant and naïve teenaged dreams. I was lucky to meet certain people like Angel, Lourdes, Paco and others who offered me a saving hand and took me out of those raging waters, opening the gate of a new world where I did not have to exchange my dreams for a plate of lentils. God erupted in my life and offered me a real way of materializing my utopic unquietness.
The first thing that attracted me was the life in common; I liked it so much that I decided to remain. In Western societies, friendship has been relegated to a secondary role, below that of couples. It is not easy for us to accept as valid any type of love, outside the context of family that is not sexual. Learning to live friendship as a complete way of loving helped me rediscover the words and actions of Jesus, which then became alive and full of sense to me.
The Gospel became a reality and an interactive map for my daily life: “… And he will put the sheep at his right hand and the goats at the left. Then the king will say to those at his right hand, ‘Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.’ … And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.’” (Mt 25:31-46). The next logical step was to put into practise what I had read from the Gospel and to not be indifferent to the sufferings of others. This was what pushed me to go to the missions in Kenya to help. During the years that I was in Kenya, God erupted in my life and offered me a real way of materializing my utopic unquietness. 

The love, charity, compassion and generosity towards the suffering, brought me to discover Christ and my vocation in following Him – to be a “sheep”.
All this may sound too idealistic, but it is not. In the words of Leonard Cohen, “Love is not a victory march; it is a cold and broken halleluiah”. It is not easy to go out of ourselves and set the needs of others before ours; to abandon comfort zones, routines, plans and securities that one tends to create and to put everything at the service of an unknown person who comes to your door. This is a difficult task. It is usually a disturbing, burdensome, cumbersome and costly task. It does not flow out automatically from us, we need some- body to help, correct and admonish us. Thanks to people like Paco, I experienced that often we are the ones who put limits to reality, and that what we think as impossible is in reality possible; that God is a factor we need to take into ac- count. We fear dying to ourselves and sacrificing for others. Each sacrifice is a small death on the cross and that scares us. But even though it may look like a contradiction, after the cross there is life. It is precisely when you lose yourself to make others happy, that you find true happiness; you experience the resurrection (cf Mt 16:24-26). 

It was through Paco that I discovered my priestly vocation; that the Eucharist is nothing other than the celebration of the fact that Jesus sacrificed His life for us, that He gave us all that He had, His flesh and blood to feed, cure and free us. At the same time, the Eucharist is an invitation to imitate; it is the sacrament of love, charity, generosity and compassion. It is a sacrifice of giving food to the hungry, water to the thirsty, clothes to the naked, hospitality to the stranger, visit to the sick and the prisoners, opening the eyes of the blind, among other noble works of mercy. The Eucharist means going through, in our daily lives, the cross and the resurrection of Christ. 

I am still on this long journey of apprenticeship in love. It is a never-ending journey where every stretch is different, unpredictable, and never stops surprising me. If I had to choose a text that could define all this, then I would take one from our patron, Saint Paul the Apostle:
“If I have the eloquence of men or of angels, but speak without love, I am simply a gong booming or a cymbal clashing. If I have the gift of prophesy, understanding all the mysteries the- re are, and knowing everything, and if I have faith in all its full- ness, to move mountains, but without love, then I am nothing at all. If I give away all that I possess, piece by piece, and if I even let them take my body to burn it, but I am without love, it will do me no good whatever … In short, there are three things that last: faith, hope and love; and the greatest of these is love.” (1Cor 13:1-13).

Fr. David Escrich, MCSPA 

More than 23 years ago, when our magazine In Itinere began its first publication, I wrote an article in this same section and gave an account of the feelings and thoughts that were in me when I had then recently received the grace of priestly ordination. “The Year of Grace”. Re-reading it recently, I asked myself whether this novelty that I had in me when I received my priestly ordination is still as alive and strong today. That joy of being a priest, which over flowed when I wrote my earlier article, was it still the crux of my life? 

This year, 2019, I celebrate 23 years in the priesthood: 23 years of joy, 23 years of grace.

It is a complicated question and I should be honest with you and more so with myself. I could get by with some superficial and sweetened eulogy or praise at becoming a priest; I have heard much of this especially during the past Year for Priests recently closed by Pope Benedict XVI. I could also be caught up in a pessimistic and gloomy analysis, with neither hope nor future, precisely in a year in which the priestly order is being questioned and the value of a priest in the western world is being undermined. 

Let me start with this conclusion: Yes, 23 years of joy and grace! I think I am being honest when I say so and not because I am forced to say so or because it is theright thing to say. Had they not been years of joy and a feeling of grace inmy life, I would have made some excuse not to writethis article! By saying so, I mean that this is the honest and concise answer that arises in me in response to this question. 

Happiness has a complex meaning although we use it banally and with a poor philosophical base. In short, I think the problem lies on where in our lives do we place the experiences of pain, suffering and of our human limitations in a limitless universe. That is why we are unhappy. In most cases, we are unable to internally transform our sufferings into moments of joy in our pilgrimage of God’s plan for us. And here is my poor summary that gives meaning when I say that I am happy. 

In these 23 years, I have gone through times of happiness as well as harsh experiences of pain and suffering. The day to day life of a missionary priest, in remote lands and at the first line of evangelization such as where I am currently in the northern part of Turkana, filled with life’s constant challenges: hunger, diseases, violence, ignorance… It is tough and it toughens one up as well. However one can find happiness in seeing that one’s little contribution could help to alleviate somewhat all this pain and this gives a double joy and softens one’s heart. Believe me, it is one of sublime happiness to see a hungry child eating; or to catch the contented smile of a woman who no longer needs to walk a long distance because she now has the water source nearby; or to detect the vital energy of the youth who feels useful because of work and not condemned to live in a spiral of violence; or to catch a glimpse of the look of an elderly lady when her face lights up at your visit, or the jubilation of a community that lives and dances the hope of their renewed faith … 

Other painful experiences come as a result of losing or being separated from our loved ones. Unfortunately, I have had these experiences as well and they call for a great effort not only rationally but above all emotionally. 

Trying to build happiness on what is absent is tough, but one overcomes this with the hope placed on new dreams, in seeing that Christ still knocks on the doors of many who are willing to follow him and in the joy of seeing that God’s plan is immense and definitely happy are those who have lived and experimented it until now. 

In the 23 years there have been times of crises and feeling low. I do not believe in those who say that they have never undergone an existential or a vocational crisis. Every change in the rhythm of life, each apparent created security; every pride or falsely acquired right may shake, at one time or another, our vocation. But it is like a disease plaguing a child: every flu or malaria makes the child grow some centimetres taller. Every fall, confronted by love, is an elevation in our pilgrimage; every crisis, an opportunity to better ourselves and of humbly accepting that He, who is almighty, demands but always sustains us. 

It has been 23 years of living at various missions, in different realities, and on two continents, and finally returning to Africa, to Turkana. It has been 23 years of trying to give all to the call received, and to extend this call to others with some success and without chaos. It is also of wanting to serve others and of seeing that Christ is in the lives of those who surround me. Now, more than tired, I am hopeful and strengthened by these past years, which make me stronger and more trusting that the love of Christ will penetrate the hearts of all those whom God sends to me.

Fr. Alejandro José Campón 

Eleni Tsegaw, a member of the Missionary Community of St. Paul the Apostle, describes her vocation that arose from leaving her home country of Ethiopia and the joys that have filled her life as a missionary.

I had just finished high school and I was thinking what to do with my life, whether to continue studying at college or perhaps start working. While pondering on this, I met Cecilia from the Missionary Community of Saint Paul the Apostle (MCSPA) for the first time. She had been a year in Ethiopia to carry out projects aiding the most needy in the Valley of Angar Guten. What she was doing seemed very interesting; I wondered why she was doing this, what moved her to come from so far. Why was she helping people with whom she shared neither bonds nor connections? But I kept all these questions in my heart as I did not speak English and Cecilia could not speak Amharic! 

Cecilia suggested to me to study English so that we would be able to talk and so that she could explain to me all the things she wanted to develop in Ethiopia. I studied English for six months so as to have some spoken foundation. Then I travelled to Angar Guten to see what they were doing and what they had there. I was very impressed by all that they were doing there: they had a dispensary and a mobile clinic.

Guten, at the time, was a small village that lacked electricity, water and many other things. Initially the Oromos and the Gumuz inhabited the Valley of Angar Guten, but with the famine of the 80s, the Ethiopian government brought in other tribes from northern Ethiopia, like the Amhara and the Tigray. This made the Valley a very special place to work in, as the needs of each tribe had to be catered for. I used to walk in the afternoons with Cecilia, and the children followed us all along the way. She suggested that I do something for these children as they could not go to any nursery as there was none around and so only a few of the children could go on to primary school.

In the beginning I saw clearly that something had to be done for those children. They were in need of many things. My intention was to stay for a short period of time and then return to Addis to continue with my studies and with my life. But God had other plans. It was for me to follow Him, not just for a short time but for the rest of my life. This was something I did not understand at that time.

That first trip was very special as I got to know regions of my own country for the first time. So I returned to Addis Ababa to study child-care. All that time I could not stop thinking about the children of Angar Guten. On finishing the course, I returned with Cecilia and we started there a nursery – the first one at Guten! In fact, it is more a Centre of Life than a nursery because there is a place for everyone: children, mothers, older siblings etc. There are even Muslim children; everyone has a place there.

We carried out different activities for the children and their mothers, and I eventually got more involved in it that, unknowingly, I even forgot the idea of returning home to Addis Ababa to go on with my life. My life was now at this place, with these people – Cecilia, Paco, all the members of MSCPA.

One of the many visits of Paco to Ethiopia marked my life until today. Then he said that it was necessary for me to leave my country, at least for twenty years. I thought he was joking! He also told me that no one is a prophet in his own country. Now I know it was a way of opening my eyes. He saw in me the possibility of flying, like an eagle and being free to do good.

At the time it was very hard for me to understand the depth of this message. Now I see that it was providence: the hand of God inviting me to be part of the universal Church, to a wider, more bountiful and complex plan.

Leaving my country gave me the opportunity to travel to Bolivia and to live there for more than a year, at Santa Cruz de la Sierra and Cochabamba. There we worked at various development programmes. In Colombia I lived at La Calera, on the outskirts of Bogota, and worked in mother and child care. Afterwards I went to live in Germany with a group of young women from our community, all from Africa. In the beginning it was difficult because of the language, climate and culture. Eventually all that difficulty transformed into a gift for our lives. We learned how to move around the world, to find extraordinary friends who are still present in our lives and who keep supporting us.

During those years at Paderborn in Germany, we were never alone. Others from the community, such as Paco, would always come to visit us. They always encouraged us to push on. There we unrelentingly went about giving talks on Africa in parishes, schools and to different groups.

With each talk I realized how much I yearned to return to Kenya or Ethiopia, and how my vocation was becoming stronger. I also realized that when I gave another picture of Africa, people would fall in love with Africa and they would be ready to help. Not all in Africa is tragedy as is often portrayed in the media. It is a continent full of joy and with people who possess enormous potential, just waiting for someone to lend a hand.

Afterwards I went to live in Mexico and started from scratch once again – each new beginning was hard for me; now, I had to speak Spanish, make new friends … new house, new people. With the help of Lourdes, Rosa and the other women from the community, everything became easier and I gained a lot from those years. We worked in the neighbourhood of Ajusco, in the outskirts of Mexico City. There we worked with families who had migrated from other parts of Mexico without anything to find opportunities in the big capital.

We have always focused our interest on children because they are the most vulnerable. Hence we had a nursery, which later turned into St. Joseph’s Mother and Child Centre. I was impressed how each time we asked for help in the country, people would always respond positively and we never lacked support. Both, the Central de Abastosand private companies would donate their products for the smooth running of the Centre.

But the story does not end here. After getting used to Mexico and its people, I left once again but this time to Africa – to Kenya, to Turkana. And the story began again: new language, house, people …

When I look back, I can only say my life has been a blessing as it has been years of moving from one place to another, and it has brought me a lot of happiness. Today I want to thank everyone, especially Cecilia, because she stirred up my vocation and helped me to be strong and to follow Christ; Paco who pushed me to leave my country and showed me that I could move to anywhere, to be universal – to live anywhere with different peoples and feel that every place is home.

I now understand my vocation as a small seed that God placed in my heart, which even I did not know existed in me until I met Cecilia and she awakened it. Then others came: Paco, Lourdes, Scholastica and all the others who have helped me along this journey, who have made me strong, humble, patient, demanding … so many things that I would run out of ink in describing how much they have all contributed to my life. I would like to invite many other young persons who come to visit us in the missions to take that next step – that of staying here forever and living a fulfilled life of service for others. Because I discovered that this was the path to happiness.

Eleni Tsegaw MCSPA

I was 19 years old when I first met the Missionary Community of St. Paul the Apostle. During a Eucharist celebration, that was when I began to understand God’s immense love for us. I then realized that I didn’t just know, but at the same time felt God’s immense love in my heart. I was filled with joy!!!  I immediately felt a compassion towards all those that were in need and wanted to let them know that God really loves and cares for all of us.

I knew that proclaiming Christ is a call for all who are baptised, but the question that kept nagging me was; how was I supposed to do this? This is something many people neglect. All this should come from the heart and I believe that it is a call from God. 

My journey began as I took a walk with Patrizia Aniballi and other members of the MCSPA 19 years ago. I came to know them through Mrs. Esther Mwarabu who was working with the missionaries in Turkana. She had come to my village in Hola, Tana River County to pick one of my cousins who had earlier agreed to join the missionaries but changed her mind and refused. Esther Mwarabu then decided to visit our house so that she could talk to my mother and I about the missionary life in Turkana.  My mother agreed that I visit Turkana to see whether I liked or not and together with Esther Mwarabu we travelled to Nairobi to meet Patrizia Aniballi and then to Turkana.  Turkana was a place I only heard of in my History classes but I never bother to even check its location geographically.

I decided to be adventurous and embarked on a long journey towards Turkana. Through the journey I beganto understand that adventure is not only travelling around the world, but travelling down the roads of the hearts of people I meet every day. To me adventure is an encounter; it is a kind of love I want to lead.  Adventure is a conversion that lasts a lifetime, so incredible that it surpasses our greatest expectations.  Adventure calls for courage, which leads to hope and joy.  

Be courageous!  As St. John Paul the Great says:

 “Do not be afraid!  Open wide the doors to Christ!  Life with Christ is a wonderful adventure!” 

I remember about Esther Mwarabu’s visit to my village, I think of God’s call to live a missionary life, and my response. God issued the invitation, and I had the choice, to take it or to leave it. I will be forever grateful that I chose to follow.

When I first began considering missionary life in the beginning, I certainly wasn’t thinking about sitting it out or how I would eventually feel about the choices I would make. My questions majorly centred on what will my family and friends thought since I was not educated as Catholic but in the Methodist Church, What would my life be like as a missionary? And, finally, how do I know that Missionary life was right for me?

Some years after when I became a full member of the Missionary Community of St Paul, I went to give a missionary animation talks in one of the schools. During the talk a student asked me this question, “so Lenny, why did you became a missionary?’’ No matter how many times I’m asked this question, and in how many different ways, I’m never prepared for it. I then realized that’s because the answer has to come from the heart, not the mind alone thus it’s not easy to put into words.

When I began considering missionary life, I didn’t know exactly why I wanted to become a lay missionary. All I know is that there was an attraction inside of me that I could only express vaguely. Perhaps the reason can be found in a song called, “I hope you dance.’’ By Lee Ann Womack. It’s a song about loving, making choices to live life fully, to respond to the calls that are deep inside of us and to risk looking like a dancing fool in order to follow our deepest yearnings.

As I struggled to get in touch with my feelings, I responded, I wanted to love God as much as I could, and I felt the best way for me to do this was to be a lay missionary. My reason then and now is still the same. Love. Although it wasn’t without twists and turns, and many questions along the way, I’ve found my identity in being in MCSPA; serving God, especially towards the children, women and the elderly. I encounter each an everyday in Nariokotome Mission.

Lenny Jillo MCSPA