This Time From Africa!

                                                                                                                   

            We are not oblivious of the reservations on the three of us be sent here. Much has been said and done. A friend even went on to say that if it would be him, he would rather pack his clothes and plant kamote. Yet, it is the characteristic of the young to be stubborn - at his heart’s desire. So five months ago, we did pack our clothes and went here. Not to plant kamote though, for it is already abundant here.                                                                                                        

Now, we consume ourselves for the purpose there is at the moment, i. e. to learn French language (with all the sidelines in-between, of course). I am glad that, finally, we have to live in a single place all these time. Since our first profession of vows last May, the three of us (Daniel Ocampo Jr., Jaymark Gutierrez and Me), had been hopping from one place to another, not staying in any of them for long, until we arrived here. While preparing the legalities for the program we are now in, we were on hiatal stays to the communities we now missed: the Provincial House, our home places, the AIFC-11^th Street. That remained to be so until things were done; we were sent off; and told to be faithful to our vocation (unfaithfulness, despite) by Fr. Rex Salvilla on his homily that day. Tough!

Belgian Segue and Inspiration Overflow                                                                                      

 It was the news du jour that the day we arrived at Brussels, registered to be one where there was a great number of airline passengers. It was probably because of those who caught some sun outside Belgium. It has been days then when it did not show up there. My worries as to what to do next after the airport were waved away by a familiar logo which greeted us at the waiting area. Behind was Bro. Jan van den Heuvel and we were told by him that it is part of his toil to fetch and accompany confreres at the airport. Sweet! At 17⁰C, it was a good time to go around the city, they said. Plus, there was the sun! A good sign, I thought.  Fr. Jacques Thomas, yes, the once Superior General, generously volunteered to accompany us to the must-see places around the city that same afternoon. “Tired” or “jetlagged” was for us a word non-existent that day.         

We stayed at our Mother House in Scheut for two weeks while we processed our visas to Cameroon. It was a grand time for us to delve into the roots and fruits of our Congregation. Sitting before the Chinese-made sarcophagus containing our Founder’s remains is almost imperative for one to fall on his knees. I was brought to gratitude for the good works our Founder has started and for the inspiration he spurred upon those who followed and are still following his footsteps. It was equally an overwhelming experience for me to walk along the gallery of photos of missionaries whose lives graced and still gracing the CICM Mission. There were more than three thousands of them, from that of our Founder up to the batch of the Indonesian interns who recently came to the Philippines for their English course.  The changing tides of our Congregation were somehow captured by those photos: from whole to half-body to head shots; from sepias to black-and-white to colored and to black-and-white again; the emergence of missionaries from different nationalities; the different hairstyles; the various postures; even the various accessories that ranges from crosses to breviaries to eyeglasses to smiles (or absence of it). Each according to his likings; each to his own time. Then all were assembled together to create a wonderful collage that is our Congregation.

Of Formation Houses, Caring Homes, and Retirees                                                                    In time for the celebration of the All Soul’s Day, Fr. Jacques brought us to Jambes, Namur, located southern part of Belgium. There used to be a formation house there for the French-speaking confreres. Every year, their families gathered together for a thanksgiving mass and for a convivial meal. We brushed elbows with some of them. Of course, we did not miss the chance to pay homage to some of our confreres who were buried in the area. It was almost eerie to stand before the graves where missionaries we studied and read in our history are buried.  That was our version of Undas.                                                                                                            We were also graced by the time Fr. Guido Everaert had with us. He brought us to his hometown in Ostend, on the coastal part of Belgium. There, we met his parents. He then brought us to Kortrijk, in the formation-house-turned-caring-home where he now serves as the rector.  It is a community of seasoned missionaries, numbering more than twenty, wrinkled and weakened by their lives in the mission. It was vespers when we arrived. Like obedient formands, they prayed together. Supper followed after, and it was a pleasure to see them doing their assigned tasks; leading the prayer, introducing visitors, and dishwashing. It was reminiscent to suppertime Maryhurst, only that instead of juvenile seminarians, there were gray-haired confreres.                                                                                                                                                

 We also went to another retirement home in Zuun. It is a bigger community housed in once-a-castle-turned-formation-house-turned-caring-home. There we met Fr. Jozef Waterschoot, famously known to us as Fr. Patat. He was on his wheelchair, paralyzed, and unable to speak. When we were introduced as Filipinos, he appeared glad, made gestures, as if trying to move his hands and trying to say something. He signaled to the framed photos surrounding the walls of his room. They were photos during his glory days as a missionary in Benguet. For whatever reasons why he mounted those on his walls, I was moved by it.  For me, it is the connection he feels, after all these years, for the people he served on his mission in Benguet.                                                                                                                                       

And then there was also Fr. Wim Goossens. This jovial confrere, who once also served as a Superior General, was welcoming to us. His sharp memory of the times he had and the confreres he knows in and from the Philippines was simply impressive.                          

Meeting some of our retired Belgian confreres somehow puts faces on the names that took quite a number of pages in our Elenchus. Belgium has really sent its sons to the mission! Now they are back, at least for those who managed tor, to the same houses that formed them. It’s poignant to see old confreres taking care of their fellow, almost as old as they are. I also wonder how it feels like to be together again with your contemporaries in the same formation house you were before. Then, tête-à-tête on benches, around tables or along walk-paths (as always the case) about mission - this time in the past tense. Nice, isn’t it?                                      

We also met the Filipino community there and shared table with some of them. We joined their mass one Sunday and it felt different to hear familiar songs being sung in an unfamiliar place and set-up. More so, inside a magnanimous European church, only a fraction of which was occupied.                                                                                                                                     

Our 2-week stay in Belgium, the Mother House in particular, was for me a grace where inspiration welled up. It all began there and being there had me a peek of the richness of our beloved Congregation’s past. We were almost filled with awe to the point of wanting to build three tents there, one each for the three of us. But we just have to move on to our Sea of Galilee. Our purpose was not there. Besides, our visas to Cameroon have been processed.

That Car in Red                                                                                                                                         

During his vacation last year, Fr. Nazario ‘Naz’ Caparanga had a session with us, novices then. He said that for those who will be sent to Cameroon, a red car will be waiting at the airport. Nine months on and indeed, there was the red car. With it was another car (not red) of Fr. Moise Tam, the Provincial Superior of ACO himself, who with Fr. Naz and a Chadian confrere-intern to Haiti, came to fetch us.                                                                                                    

So, welcome to Africa! We elongated our necks and stuck our noses to the car window as we were drove from the airport à la Maison Provinciale.                                                         

Of Ni Hao and Bonjour!                                                                                                                   We live here in our Pre-Novitiate house at Tsinga, Yaoundé, where we form part of the community with our pre-novices. There are nine of them. We are having our French language course at a rather exclusive school named Centre de Langue CICM de Tsinga, in the same house where we are. It is relatively exclusive that there are only three students, us! It is also a newly-established school where three professors alternately come during weekdays. Fr. Naz is the school’s director. We are the second batch to study here; the pioneers being Frs. Maurice Galasa, Wilfredo Sabarillo Jr., both missionaries to Zambia, and Fr. Anthonius Pasang, an Indonesian confrere assign to Congo. We had a great time with these young missionaries during their last month of French study before they went back to their respective mission assignments.                                                                                                                                                  French language is complicated with all its hard-to-determine genders, baffling articles, nasal pronunciation, and numerous conjugations. That not counting the amount of vocabulary we have to build. Yet, I am glad we can now utter more than Bonjour! and know beyond Bon Appetit! Every Tuesday, starting the first week of Lent, the three of us alternately share the homily to the community, in French!                                                                                                                       

We spend our weekends at the parish where Fr. Naz is the parish priest, a walking distance away from Tsinga. If not, we are in the parish where Fr. Rene Cabag Jr. serves as the assistant. It’s for us both a grace and an occasion to be with these dedicated missionaries as they plow on their field. Saturdays are alive in their respective parishes, as groups that ranges from children to adult, gathered to conduct their affairs. Masses are rather long and filled with dances and songs, especially during Sundays. At times, queues for offertory are longer than that of communion.                                                                                                                                               

One time, we joined a pilgrimage with the parishioners where Fr. Rene is. It’s an enriching experience to be with them. The car where we were was filled with songs on our way to and fro. Then we joined the faithful in supplications on a serene, elevated place, very much conducive for that event. When we were back, we were greeted with the thumping sounds of tam-tams and tambours in varying sizes. The pilgrims burst into dancing, a thanksgiving for a safe and fruitful trip. I thought I can’t imagine Africa without songs and dances. Even funerals and burials are filled with such gestures!                                                                                                 

 It is common for us to be mistaken as Chinese here. Children and some adults alike, are ready with their “Ni Hao” whenever we passed by them. Some children thought we knew Kung Fu and requested sample footwork at times, on which we jestingly yield to their great delight. Whew! They are equally elated with our hair. They brushed and played on them with such interest. I never thought simple things as such could bring so much joy. 

10 years, 20 years, 5 months 

On the 15^th of December last year, Fr. Naz celebrated his 10^th Anniversary of Sacerdotal Ordination. The mass was filled with parishioners and friends from far and nigh, who came to celebrate with him on that grace-filled occasion. Various organizations in the parish paid their tribute in forms of gifts, dances, and presentation to their beloved parish priest. It was just as moving. A simple salo-salo on a newly-constructed veranda atop the parish building, followed. Overlooking bright city lights, cold winds defied by warm greetings there were. It was a gratitude-laden event fitted enough for a man who shares his life to the mission.                                     

Then around the middle of February, some members of the Filipino community here in Yaoundé, which I could only count with my fingers – majority are religious, had an intimate despedida for Sister Mary Jovita Pe Benito. She is a missionary of Saint Paul de Chartes. She had been here in Cameroon for twenty years already and left for good. She’s going to take a new mission assignment after her vacation.                                                                                             

 I am humbled by all these events. We have our five months and what is it compared to their more than 10 or 20 years? It takes some time to take a fraction of their years, not to mention how much we can take from their works within those numbers of years. For now, it suffices to say there are a lot of things to look forward to. It is five months and living, more than counting.                                                                                                                                              

Not to forget that on our fifth month, we were visited by our very own Novice Master now General Councilor, Fr. Mike Reyes, for his canonical visit to the Province of ACO. Imagine how happy and how inspired we were for the reunion!                                                                                        

Five months has done a lot on our individual lives, and what a joy! Indeed, as Fr. Rex Salvilla prophesied on his homily during our sent-off, we already miss some people, going to familiar places, eating usual foods. We indeed encountered new challenges, language especially, difficulties in adjusting physically, entering into a new culture, living with people having different mentality, adjusting to the food, etc. Though difficult, these are the things we were prepared for on those formation years that have been. Moreover, how is a missionary be if without all these?                                                                                                                                       

Much remains to be said and be done and we are aware of some confreres’ reservations on us being sent here. Or is it just my conceit? Nonetheless, I am grateful for those who showed genuine concern. For those who exhibited confidence on us and on this program of ‘embracing the charism of our institute in this way’, despite how wanting we are or how experimental all these seem to be. Wherever we are matters, but not as much as our willingness to grow, take root, and bear fruit into following Jesus wherever we are does. Besides, in a Congregation like ours where there is a call to go beyond borders, let this be our share.                           

We are now closing our fifth month, and I believe we have a good start.