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Maryknoll stories from around the world

 

As a Maryknoll lay missioner in El Salvador, I assisted a group of women working together to earn a little income to help support their families. Some of the women had never attended school. Even the most educated of them had only a fourth-grade education.
In their homes, they made meshed beaded doilies to protect food and beverages from pesky insects or to use as tablemats. We worked to streamline the product line and explore marketing options. Most of the proceeds went directly to the women, with a portion going back to the group’s coffers. No one got rich, but every cent helped. That fact really came home to me when Santos Olivia received her share and exclaimed, “Now I can buy shoes for my son.”
Margaret Cambier, MKLM

The scattered atolls of the Marshall Islands, where I served as a Maryknoll Sister for 12 years, are surrounded by the great Pacific Ocean waters, yet there’s not a drop to drink unless it rains. In the outer islands we collected rainwater in cement cisterns, which we used for drinking and cooking for ourselves and for the students in our mission schools. Most of our neighbors could afford only empty kerosene drums and other small containers for catching rainwater. During times of drought we had to be very careful with whatever rainwater we had collected.
One day during a drought, not wanting to use our scarce drinking water, I tried to quench my thirst by getting a big knife to open a coconut and drink its water. But no matter how hard I tried, I could not open the coconut. Just as I was feeling sorry for myself, a young boy walked by. Seeing my struggle, he took the knife and with a few strokes, opened the coconut. With great thanksgiving, I understood the words of Jesus: “I was thirsty and you gave me drink.”
Aurora de la Cruz, M.M.

In India, most people get their damaged sandals and shoes cheaply repaired on the street instead of buying new footwear. Street cobblers are often lower caste “untouchables,” since working with leather, the skin of a dead cow, is viewed as impure.
One day I decided to visit the cobbler who had set up shop near my apartment in Bangalore, where I was working for an Internet company and volunteering for two years.
I handed the cobbler my shoes. He carefully stitched the leather to the sole and shined the pair. He charged about US$4 for the work, which took 20 minutes. A man behind me began to berate the cobbler for overcharging me simply because I was a foreigner. Not wanting to cause a scene, I paid the fee and left.
I walked past that cobbler almost every day for a year, and he always insisted on inspecting my shoes. If I was in a hurry, he would just put his hands together in blessing, bow down and say “Namaste,” the Hindu greeting recognizing the divine presence in each of us. Calculating the hundreds of daily blessings the cobbler gave me, I realized my shoe repair was worth far more than I paid.
Robert C. Carlsen, Maryknoll supporter

About 10 years ago Samueli came to our House of Compassion, where the poorest of the poor are welcomed here in Musoma, Tanzania. He had been a pushcart worker loading sugar, rice and wood to be carried to local stores. When he began drinking heavily, his family abandoned him.
One of our volunteers discovered Samueli in a hospital, where he had been brought after he was found unconscious in the street. Father Godfried Biseko, founder of our home, asked the hospital to release Samueli to come and live with us.
Recently he became too weak to walk and is now confined to a wheelchair. But he loves to go outside to greet the sun. At the end of the day, as I get him ready for bed and promise to see him tomorrow, he smiles. I smile too, having watched Samueli grow more content and self-confident as he has felt welcome.
The breastplate prayer of St. Patrick says, “Christ before me, Christ behind me, Christ around me, Christ within me.” I cannot help but rejoice in the presence of Jesus shining through a man called Samueli.
Michael Bassano, M.M.