During my preparation for the priesthood in Cochabamba, Bolivia, I would walk from our formation house to the cathedral for the 7 a.m. Mass. I became familiar with many of the street vendors whose makeshift stalls and small retail shops lined the streets.
I noticed a curious thing. Whenever two or more people were at a stall, one would lightly pinch the other and whisper something as I passed. This happened with discernible regularity. I mentioned it to my language teacher, who explained that what was whispered was “suerte para ti” (good luck to you). This was done when someone of African descent was seen.
There was something spiritual about this Bolivian cultural response to those who are different. I was treading into the spiritual garden of a people.
John Siyumbu, M.M.
I>met Francis while in mission in Nyakato, a suburb of Mwanza, Tanzania, through our AIDS outreach ministry. He had left a good job in the police force after contracting HIV. His mother reached out to us. Her sadness was compounded three times — Francis was her third son to contract the disease.
Francis, whom we accompanied for over a year, had not been a practicing Catholic but began to receive the sacraments again. We would also take him to the hospital, six miles away. Soon, however, he developed a medicine-resistant fungus that left him bedridden.
One day, after months in bed, he said to me, “I know that Jesus suffered during his crucifixion, but my disease has caused me terrible pain. Why does this happen?”
We don’t know why, but with trust in God’s love, Francis endured his suffering until he died. Although burdened with unanswered questions, he trusted that the Lord “set my feet upon rock, steadied my steps, and put a new song in my mouth, a hymn to our God.” (Psalm 40: 3-4)
Iserve with the Deaf Development Programme (DDP) in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, which nurtures deaf young adults. Each student has their own gifts and interests, and as they enter job training, we start seeing their dreams take shape.
SreyVin was one of them. At 19 years old, she had already overcome many obstacles in her life. As a toddler she was abandoned by her father. In his eyes, she was not a daughter he wanted to take care of.
After previous schooling at another deaf school in Phnom Penh and two years of basic education at DDP, SreyVin enrolled in salon training. In her first month, the class focused on giving manicures and washing and straightening hair. She became confident in these skills and went on to more advanced work in hair and makeup. SreyVin, who now has hope for the future, plans to set up a salon to support herself and her mother.
It is my prayer that for many years to come, more deaf young adults will complete our basic education program, move on to job training, and find a path that will allow them to support themselves and their families.
While in mission in Tanzania, I was the Catholic chaplain at the national medical university in Dar es Salaam. There was a hospital on campus and a large slum not far away. News must have spread that Father Mike would help those in need, because a steady stream of people started coming to my door. When word also spread that Father Mike asked a lot of questions, the numbers subsided. One day, however, a woman stricken with AIDS came to the office. Her children and husband had died. She had no money to return to her parents’ home, 900 miles away. Her name was Rehema, which translated to English means “compassion.”
I gave her 50,000 shillings (50 U.S. dollars) for the trip. In tears, Rehema extended her hand and went down on one knee, thanking me. I took her hand into mine and prayed with her for a safe journey. It occurred to me that this was a precious moment. I had been in the presence of God. Jesus came to me as Rehema, asking me to never harden my heart to those who come in need.
Michael J. Snyder, M.M.
Featured image: Gregg Brekke/Tanzania
