At times I look at where I am, what I do and ask myself; How did I get here? In my vocation life, the gospel values that I witness among the people of God in the Diocese of Lodwar (Turkana County) is propelled by the motto “For God and Humanity”. It is my maxim, it is the base that holds me and keeps me stronger even in challenging and difficult moments. All that I do, all that I am in my vocation and mission among the people of God is done “For God and Humanity”; that in my mission and works, God’s Kingdom may come to His people and that humanity may enjoy God’s mercy and grace through my little input!
Fr. Wycliffe Ochieng, MCSPA

The chance was too good to pass up. For the first time, our parish in Singapore – the Church of Our Lady of Perpetual Succour (OLPS) – was holding a visual exhibition to showcase its various outreach activities.

The event, which saw different ministries putting up display panels over two weekends, was prompted by Pope Francis’ designation of October 2019 as the Extraordinary Mission Month. 

My husband, Michael, and I thought it was the perfect platform to promote our ongoing collaboration with Fr. Francis Teo and his team in Manila. 

We had visited Nariokotome and other MCSPA Missions in Kenya in June 2017, and were moved to spread the word about the community’s tireless work after we came back. 

At a church camp later that year, we shared our experience and had people coming up to us wanting to find out more. 

Like us, most of them were keen to expose their kids to outreach activities that would help pave the way for an others-centred life in an increasingly self-absorbed world. 

Many children in Singapore are blessed with a comfortable life but not attuned enough to appreciate their good fortune.

A trip to Turkana, however, is neither an easy nor cheap one to make. Instead, Fr. Francis proposed a group visit to MCSPA’s Asian base in Metro Manila. 

When some of the potential visitors asked what they could do to help, he gave his standard reply: “Just come and see.” 

So in December 2018, five families from OLPS went and had a glimpse of MCSPA’s scope of work in a few slum areas. 

Over four days, we visited some of the homes, organised Christmas parties for the families and distributed food and presents.  

We didn’t do much. But the seven youngsters in our group of 16 learnt first-hand that applying their talents and resources  – no matter how meagre they might seem  – for the good of others brings much joy and meaning in life.

This is not a one-off, feel-good project though. We have scheduled another visit to the Manila Mission in December this year. This time, the group size has nearly doubled to about 30 people.

Through these annual visits, we hope to forge a long-term relationship with some of the families there and continue to support MCSPA’s work in any way we can. 

This is also the message behind our display panel at OLPS, which featured photos from our Manila trip in 2018, summed up what we did there and shared the ethos of MCSPA.

May we, like the missionaries of MCSPA, learn to put our faith into action and share the Gospel through personal witness and welcome. 

By Gemma Tee

Never in my youth did I plan on visiting Turkana, and even less did I imagine that I would be living here. I did not even think that I would be able to speak and write in other languages apart from English and Kiswahili. And this was an absolutely new world that was opened to me thanks to the Missionary Community of St. Paul the Apostle (MCSPA) and especially Fr. Francisco Andreo, the founder, and Fr. Francis Teo, who invited me to participate in their vision and experience. Thus I was able to see things differently and discover in my life the value of directing my gaze towards others and to help them, in small gestures, to discover Jesus in this way: “Because I was hungry and you gave me food; I was thirsty and you gave me to drink; I was homeless and you gave me a shelter; I was naked and you clothed me; sick and you visited me; in prison and you came to see me.” (Mt. 25:35-36)

In those times, travelling for two days by road was something unimaginable which only a few crazy people would have done. In addition, it was very adventurous to go to a place like Turkana taking into account that people from the southern part of Kenya, like me, do not know its history or culture, and that most of us find it difficult to recognize it as a part of Kenya.

I grew up in Nairobi and was fortunate enough to belong to a generous and very Catholic, middle class family (as they are described these days). My parents had to work very hard to make sure that their children enjoyed a decent education, have food on the table every day and that they grow to be good and God-fearing people.

Living in this environment, I grew up believing in certain values: there was need to study hard, get good results, look for a good job, help our parents and siblings so that they have a good life, get married and continue doing the same with our children, and they with their children. I did not think that I could see things from a different perspective. But this journey to Turkana helped me to undo the prejudices that I had, including towards my own family, like for example, that we were the poorest in the neighbourhood because we did not own a car or did not eat meat every week. It was only when I saw the poverty that was in Turkana, I realized that we were very privileged indeed!

I knew about the MCSPA through my cousin George Ouma, who in those days was living with the missionaries, with Fr. Francis in particular – and he wanted to be a priest like the other missionaries. He came to my home and narrated to us what he was doing in Turkana and from then on, I felt a great urge to go there too. This was only to know this interesting but strange place called Turkana.

The journey was very, very long. The two days of travelling appeared unending and I thought that we would never arrive. Fr. Fernando Aguirre was driving a 4-wheel drive vehicle. It was my first time to ride in a 4-wheel drive vehicle apart from only seeing them in movies! The car, filled to the brim with foodstuff, medicines, furniture, chicks, saplings with only a little space in which we fit four people in the pick-up. We travelled with some Turkana boys namely, Napocho, Ekalukan and Morita. They explained to me little details about Turkana. These stories gave me the morale and illusion to continue with the journey and slowly by slowly, I overcame the initial fear and prejudices about this very remote area.

I remember we stopped somewhere during the journey and Fr. Fernando, Natalia, one of the lay missionaries, and the boys brought out a basket, and all of a sudden we made a wonderful improvised picnic with Spanish omelette, bacon, mangoes and water – a complete meal! This was another small gesture that made me change my way of thinking and helped me look at things in a different way. I never thought of carrying food during a trip, I always thought that one could stop and go to the shop and buy it. To my surprise, Fr. Fernando told me: “Even if you had the money, where are the shops to buy? If you want to be a good missionary, you have to be prepared to think of others first before yourself.”

As we approached Turkana, I realised that the landscape had become very dry and sparse as we could only see some camels and goats crossing the road once in a while and small groups of huts made of sticks and branches. The boys explained to me that those were the houses of the people, and I thought to myself, “But where are they taking me? This appears like the end of the world!” 

Finally we arrived at Nariokotome Mission. There, after two days of travelling, I said: “Finally we are at home”. We offloaded everything from the car and I was taken to a house by one of the women missionaries who told me, “This is your room, please take a shower. We will have lunch in an hour’s time and later you will go to rest.” I gave a sigh of relief … and retired to my room!

Some few minutes later, I heard a call of “Emergency! Emergency!” When I looked out through the window, I saw Natalia, who was a medical doctor as well, running towards the car. I went out and inquired what was happening. She told me “Board the car and let’s go! We are going to see to a pregnant woman who is unable to give birth.” I went into the car and she drove – like one doing the Safari Rally competition – up to Riokomor in the mountains. It was a very bumpy ride. On arrival, we met a pregnant woman who had been in labour for two days without delivering; she was very anaemic and did not have much strength. Dr. Natalia took the “basket” of the car and prepared tea with a lot of sugar, gave it to the lady to drink, and we then put her into the vehicle and hurried back to Nariokotome Mission because the main dispensary is located there.

After forty minutes bouncing along on the track, those at the back of the pick-up shouted to us to stop. When we alighted to see what the commotion was all about, we discovered that the baby had already been born! I understood nothing at that time, but I was just very happy because the lives of the mother and baby were no longer in danger. When we arrived at Nariokotome, Natalia explained to me that thanks to the cup of very sweet tea that she had given the mother to drink and all the bumping around of the car, the mother was able to gather sufficient strength to muster the contractions and to give birth.

Since small details such as these occurred severally during my stay there, they definitely made me look at things in their proper perspective and see things differently from how I did before.

I was in the mission for two months helping in whatever way I could: in the kitchen, in the garden, at the mobile clinic and nutritional centre, cleaning etc. In summary, I was doing many things that I had not done before in my own home. From the first day, I felt more as one of the community rather than a visitor, despite the fact that they were people from different countries: Kenyans, Colombians, Venezuelans, and Spanish. There was something that united them: they all loved.

I went back to Nairobi and began to study. Six months later after my experience in Turkana, when I had already forgotten that way of life that I had experienced, my cousin George arrived again and asked me if I would like to go for a Mass in which the missionaries had invited me. Although I had already been for mass, I went again. There, I met again Fr. Paco and Fr. Francis. It was a simple Mass with a few persons. However, I felt something that I do not know how to explain. Something happened within me that took me back to the same happiness that I experienced during those first two months when I was in Turkana.

At that moment, I could not tell whether I had a missionary vocation. But this happiness, the importance of learning the concerns of others and directing one’s look towards the other were things that made me think again as to what I wanted to do and be in life. Through these small experiences that I have narrated, I discovered the treasure that was in Turkana with the Missionary Community of St. Paul the Apostle. The invitation to the Mass in Nairobi that weekday, the motivation from Frs. Paco and Francis to think of me and being concerned about inviting me, and later the spark that lit this flame inside me, and which slowly by slowly was fanned alive by people who thought not only of themselves, but rather wished to share their happiness with me and others. I believe that the combination of these small gestures, people and motivations ended up awakening this missionary call in me. If they would not have invited me to this Mass, I think I would have ended up doing what everybody else does: study, work, help the family, get married and have children. I thank Francis for inviting me to that Mass which eventually moved something in me!

This call within me, intensified by the people who have surrounded me during these 20 years, has been the motivation that made me into who I am and be where I am now, in the Mission of Nariokotome. 

I would wish that God illumines and gives me the strength to be able to share all that I have learnt along this road, as it is said in the prayer of St. Francis of Assisi: “Make me a channel of your peace.”All that I do is first of all to thank God for giving me life, to my family, to the Missionary Community of St. Paul the Apostle and also the support and help that comes from my friends in Spain, Kenya, Singapore, Malaysia, Germany … They support us with their friendship, prayers and material assistance in order to do all these works.

During these years I have lived a multitude of experiences, sometimes good and sometimes bad. I have visited and lived in many different countries (Ethiopia, Colombia, Germany) with different people. I speak different languages, and all these have made me into a humble and, I would like to believe, a better person. It has also moved me to try and share my happiness with other persons of encountering Jesus in others through small gestures. I hope that my experience will help others encounter this same happiness, always carrying God’s smile to all places.

Lillian Omari, MCSPA

It is always difficult to explain how one’s vocation was born. My case is not as striking as one may imagine. People often consider the missionary or the religious person as someone so special, almost describing them as extraordinary beings. However, it is not like that. We have so much to learn from others. What characterizes us is that we have a deep love for those who are marginalized, even when this is not always easy. 

As you can see by my name, I am Italian even though now I have little in me from Italy, because I have been living in Kenya for more than  28 years and, as you know, here we speak English and Kiswahili; in our community, we speak Spanish and English. In short, I do not know what language I speak anymore, probably a mixture of everything. 

Let me tell you how I arrived to this remote land. I lived in a small village called Pietraforte, in the province of Rieti, in Italy. At the time my town had around 100 people, and I am not exaggerating. Many people had left the town looking for jobs in the larger cities. The parish priest was from Spain. One day, he came to celebrate a funeral in the town and I went to see him, to request a certificate for one of my cousins who was getting married. I saw the priest’s car outside the church and two young women sitting inside. I got close, opened the door and sat with them. The young women were surprised to see me and I explained to them why was I there. They spoke to me half in Spanish and half in Italian. They were two lay missionaries of the Missionary Community of Saint Paul Apostle, who talked to me during more than half an hour about what they were doing in Kenya. I told them that I had always wanted to be a missionary, but that every time I approached the priest he introduced me to nuns, to see if I wanted to be a religious sister, and I saw that this was not for me. 

After a while the priest came and invited me to go with them to Rome, because Fr. Paco was arriving that day. I went with them. From the first moment Paco saw me, he invited me to go with them to Kenya. He seemed too determined, to me. It was the first time that someone who did not know me trusted me at first sight, and I told him yes, I would go. I was with them for two days, and even though everyone tried to talk to me in Italian I could barely understand them, and I did not speak Spanish at the time. 

That was how some months later I left my family. I had previously a brother, four years younger than me. He was born premature, six months into my mother’s pregnancy. He had to stay in an incubator for some time. Later was diagnosed with cerebral palsy and lived only until he was nine, when I became an only child. Fortunately, my four-year-old cousin came to live with our family after his father died and my mother raised him until he was 14, and went back to live with his mother. Then I really became an only child. Nonetheless, my parents did not oppose my going to Kenya. At the beginning they missed me a lot, but later they accepted it. 

Now, after many years, I understand well Paco’s determination to call me to leave everything and follow Christ, in order to go where there is nothing, where people are so poor that they live with “less than nothing”, in Turkana. 

When I came to Kenya I lived for a long time in Nairobi. I was the only Italian in the community and I only spoke Italian. Many times I felt odd, I wanted to go and live in Turkana, in the desert, and not in a large city. I remember that at the beginning I only wanted to be with one of the young missionaries whom I had met in my village, but she had to go to another mission in Bolivia and it was hard to adapt to the rest. My mother would call me occasionally for a minute to see if I was well, and even though I always said yes, she noticed that it was not true. I never told her, but it was very difficult to leave my family and my “small world” where I was used to do everything I wanted, to travel and to make my own choices. 

The first months were like this: “I like it, but…”. After some time everything began to change: I understood better the meaning of the life I had embraced. The love and, most of all, the patience that the community had with me were extraordinary. After some months I decided to stay. It was after visiting Turkana, after seeing how people lived, after seeing the work done there. I think that Turkana moved me, and the thought that I could be useful changed me. 

During the 28years I have been with the Community my mother has come almost every year to stay with us. She felt at home, teaching people to sew, embroider, and cook Italian pasta, sausages and other things. It is beautiful to see how one’s family can become a part of the Community, and at the end we all form one, big family. When they come they serve others, they learn to love our people in the mission and have a better understanding of the things I have explained to them. 

It was not mere coincidence that my small village had a Spanish priest. Everything came from God’s hands, who was there. I simply had the door open, and I hope that God’s hand will continue to guide me on the mission’s paths, wherever He wants to take me 

Patrizia Aniballi, MCSPA 

Pope Francis has declared this October the Extraordinary Month of Mission. Every 3^rdSunday of October, the Church celebrates World Mission Sunday. The theme this year is “Baptized and Sent”. These words commemorate Jesus’ exhortation to his disciples when he sent them, in twos, to go and preach the Gospel. And they set out, placing their faith firmly in God. A missionary is one who is sent out, he or she leaves country, family, friends and many other things. And yet we all know that we are never left alone, for the Holy Spirit will always accompany the community we serve and us.

I met the Missionary Community of Saint Paul the Apostle (MCSPA) in March 2001; I was in the final year of secondary school and preparing for the final examinations. I was busy and worried about passing the exams and being able to join university or college, so that I would be able to pursue my dream in life and have a bright future like most others. Two priests from the MCSPA – one of them was Fr. Steven Ochieng – were invited by a classmate of mine called Lillian Odembo to our school to give a talk to all the Catholic students on vocation. They spoke about the missionary life and what it meant to be a missionary. They also explained about Turkana where the missionaries were living and working. All that they explained sounded interesting to me, but during the talk I kept asking myself, Why Turkana and not other parts of Kenya that also needed our help? I gave my contact, so that they would contact me whenever the priests or any other member of the Community would come to Mombasa.

I come from Mombasa, which is in the southern part of Kenya along the coast where the climate is tropical. Fr. Francisco Andreo (Paco) used to go to Mombasa often to buy seedlings of fruit-trees, such as coconut, date palm and cashewnut for planting in Turkana along the shore of Lake Turkana where the mission had opened some small plantations of fruit trees. In one of his trips to Mombasa in August 2001, I had the chance to meet him. I remember Lillian Odembo coming to my house in the evening to tell me that Fr. Paco was in Mombasa and if I wanted to go and meet him. I went the next day with Lillian Odembo and other girls who had given their contacts. After this first meeting, whenever he came to Mombasa, he called us prior to his arrival so that we would look for seedlings of coconut and cashewnut at a good price. In one of his trips to Mombasa, Paco invited us to go to visit them in Turkana and see the work that they were doing there.

At the end of November the same year after my final exams, I decided to go to visit Turkana together with other girls who were in touch with the MCSPA in order to see what the missionaries were doing in that semi-arid land. I was impressed with all that I saw and with the Turkana people as well. I also got the chance to finally see where Fr. Paco was planting all the tress he asked us to buy for him in Mombasa. We used to go out with him to the lake shore to work in the shamba(or gardens), look for places where to build rock dams and earth dams. We went for masses on Sundays in different places within the parish/mission territory. Whenever we went out, we used to prepare a big basket packed with food, especially bread and tea. Whenever he met a child or woman, Paco would stop and give a piece of bread. This impressed me a lot and I wondered how someone from far could come to help our people in Turkana. I felt challenged as to why I was not the one doing it and yet I am from the same country as these people. 

I went to Consolata Primary School in Likoni, a school run by the Consolata Missionary Fathers and all I knew about missionary work was what I saw in the work of these Consolata missionaries. I was also in the parish youth group and each month we would go visitNyumba ya Wazee (the home for of the aged) in Tudor, Mombasa. 

My days in Turkana went by so fast. After the Christmas celebrations, I travelled back to Mombasa. I had wanted in my mind to go return to Turkana whenever I would have holidays. I also had the idea of inviting other youth from my parish to organize and go to help as we used to do with the elderly in Mombasa. Upon arriving home from Turkana, I kept explaining to my family and friends what I had seen and done in Turkana. Back home I could not stop thinking and talking about the missionaries, the Turkana people and the work of the missionaries among them. In February 2002 I decided to forget all that I had desired to do after my studies, and made a firm decision to return to Turkana.

I first explained my decision to my elder sister but she could not understand why I would want that. Then I decided to explain to my mother, but she was completely against me being a lay missionary. I come from a Catholic family and I thought that my mother, being a good Catholic all her life, would not hesitate or have any objection to me following this vocation as a lay missionary and serving the Church. She refused to give me the fare to go back to Turkana; my elder sister helped me pay the transport and she told my mother to let her daughter do whatever she liked as she would come back in the end. That is when my mother cooled down, and I called Fr. Paco to say that I had decided to go back to Turkana to live there and be a lay missionary.

I first lived in Turkana, and then in Ethiopia, and afterwards I went to live in Mexico. This meant that I had to learn Spanish. It was not easy for me, but with the help of other missionaries like Lourdes, Rosa, Eleni, Pauline and others, everything became so much easier. I gained and learnt a lot all those years living in Mexico. We used to work in the outskirts of Mexico City in an area called Ajusco. The majority of families that live in this place are immigrants from other countries of South America. There are also other families from Mexico who come from rural areas with the hope finding an elevated lifestyle in the city but then the reality turned to be different and so they have no choice but to opt to live in this poor neighborhood. The reality in Mexico really impressed me. In Ajusco, we worked with children, young people and women and many companies as well as private people would always help by responding positively whenever we asked for support. People would donate for the smooth running of the nutritional centre. I also studied a three-year Diploma Course in Nursery School teacher, and it was very difficult for me to study in a foreign language but thanks to one teacher, Mrs. Maria Eugenia Roch, a music teacher, I was able to understand the course and finish it. After getting used to Mexico and its people, I had to leave and come back to Africa, Ethiopia in particular. This meant learning a new culture and new languages: Amharic and Oromo.

In my experience as a missionary, I have experienced several paradoxes in life: light and darkness, happiness and sadness, certainty and crisis, but most of all, a continuous transformation and learning. Missionary life makes one feel united with humanity and one discovers and learns to value everything, even when that which one does may appear insignificant in the eyes of the society.

I would like to thank everyone who helped me in my vocation, especially Fr. Francisco Andreo for inviting and giving me the chance to follow Christ through him. Also to all those with whom I have lived the many years in this missionary journey of a life: Lourdes, Rosa, Scholastica, Eleni, Pauline, Josephine, Luz Maria and the other women in the Community; to all my family, my elder sister and my mother for understanding my vocation. I thank Lillian Odembo too, who really encouraged me to continue in this journey, even though she eventually left to do something different in her life.

I would also like to invite all the young people to be open to the call of God, that they should not be carried away by the unnecessary storms of the world and shun the call of God. They should leave some space for God to enter into their life’s dreams. If they feel a call from God, they should not doubt it and, instead, realize that there are also greater opportunities in life as a follower of Christ!

Lydiah Obok , MCSPA

I am not entirely sure whether it was I who was seeking Jesus or it was He who found me… maybe both.

As far back as I can recall my own conscience, I remember a deep desire to never fall into the worldly race: university, a well paid job, start a family, all that lifestyle stood up like a huge mountain. Panikkar’s reflection works well here because he substitutes the more traditional fuga mundi (escaping from the world) by fleeing from the system. The system, the world, as it appeared to me, just was not my thing. And the Church would not have seemed it either, given the fact that I was the son of a militant communist.

Today, from the perspective acquired through the passage of time, I subscribe to Panikkar’s words: “Since my early youth I have always felt like a monk, but one without a monastery, or at least without walls…, without a habit, or at least without vestments other than those worn by the human family. Yet even these vestments had to be discarded, because all cultural clothes are only partial revelations of what they conceal: the pure nakedness of total transparency, only visible to the simple eye of the pure in heart”. But, where to go? Who to go with? I felt somewhat lost. 

In my case, I felt this need to change, when I was in high school. I was a bad student mainly due to a lack of drive, and, why hide it, also lack of wit. So when I failed three subjects at school my parents got alarmed and, I am not entirely sure how, against my wishes, I ended up in a parish with a group of students who met to review their pending subjects. It was there that I first met Paco and others, with whom we now form the Missionary Community of Saint Paul the Apostle. I remember that, in spite of my prejudices against the Catholic Church, mine was a love at first sight. This was what I had been seeking and I was staying put. Thus began a long adventure, taking me to Turkana, Kenya famously acclaimed in bold travellers’ books as one of the remotest places on the planet. There I stayed for nearly 20 years and now I am in Malawi the “warm heart of Africa”, where I assist to run a parish reaching to 49 communities trying to get involved in they personal and community development

What seduced me? I like the words of Cardinal van Thuan “I have left everything to follow Jesus, because I love Jesus’ defects”.  His first defect, he has a terrible memory and forgives the sinful woman who anoints his feet with perfume (Lk 7,47) and praises the father who welcomes the prodigal son after he had squandered all his inheritance (Lk 15, 18–24). His second defect, Jesus doesn’t know maths, he abandons the 99 sheep to look for the lost one (Lk 15, 4-7). Third defect, Jesus doesn’t know logic. The lady who lost a drachma spends much more in celebrating that she found it (Lk 5, 8–10). Fourth defect, Jesus is a risk-taker; he promises trials and persecutions (Mt 5, 3-12). Fifth defect, Jesus doesn’t understand finances: he pays the same to those who have worked the whole day in the vineyard as to those who came at the last hour (Mt 20, 1–6). But why does Jesus have these defects? Because he is love, “Real love does not reason, does not measure, does not create barriers, does not calculate, does not remember offenses, and does not impose conditions”.  

The Gospel is something that, if not shared, withers. If in some way Jesus and his defects seduced me, it was through the mediation of specific people. Along my way, I have met many others who at one level or another are also searching. I think that when we, the labourers, live in love, and strive to awaken longings which gush forth from the treasure of living the Gospel raw in the flesh, Jesus will then seek out many others who set themselves on the road. That is why I desire to love and keep going ahead till my days come to an end.

Fernando Aguirre, MCSPA

References 

1. Raimundo Panikkar. Elogio de la Sencillez. Estella: EVD, 1993. p. 148

2. Ibídem. p. 14

3. Francis Xavier Van Thuan Nguyen. Testigos de Esperanza. Madrid: Ed. Ciudad Nueva, 2001. p. 26

4. Ibídem. p. 25-31 

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