In Dhaka, Bangladesh, I was trying to reach the bus terminal to catch a ride home to the village of Srinagar, where I ministered to sick and disabled children. But the city was a confounded mess. Besides the normal business of people who come to shop in the jam-packed area, political demonstrations made all other activities difficult. By the time our local bus reached mid-city, I aborted my trip home and went back to where I had been staying.
Two days later, the traffic was still chaotic. Traffic in Dhaka is already heavy at 5:30 a.m., since drivers set out early to avoid the congestion starting around 7 a.m. Crossing the street, I was suddenly and shockingly confronted with a speeding three-wheel vehicle without headlights. The driver had been relying on the lights of the truck ahead of him. It saves his battery but nearly cost me my life!
Walking on the sidewalks of Bangladesh isn’t any better and, simply put, is dangerous for oneself and others. Narrow walkways merely encourage shoulder-to-shoulder collisions, which are so common among approaching pedestrians.
For adventure tourism, I highly recommend a ride at night through the city of Dhaka in a cold, dark, bumpy motorized rickshaw.
Robert McCahill, M.M.
When I was first assigned to the Philippines, I lived with some of our sisters who had been interned by the Japanese in concentration camps during World War II. The two superiors, who had been put in a special prison, were interrogated daily. Food was scarce for both the prisoners and the Japanese soldiers guarding them. Each night, after lights out, a young Japanese soldier would come to their cell and give the sisters two handfuls of cooked rice. If he had been caught, he would have been punished severely. In time, the sisters learned that he had been a seminarian in Japan and was drafted into the military. To give them a few handfuls of rice, he risked his own life.
Later, when teaching seminarians, I would find a way to include this story in every course to illustrate the Gospel question, “Who is my neighbor?” Each neighbor has a name and a face, even our so-called enemies.
Loretta Harriman, M.M.
Here in the Bolivian Amazon, where I serve as a Maryknoll lay missioner, we step across the small stream that runs by doña Francisca’s house. She’s too old and weak to make it to Sunday Mass, so we bring her Holy Communion every Saturday. We walk up to the house, which in its simplicity consists of wooden boards under a roof of metal sheets. Another lay missioner and I stand by while Maryknoll Father Michael Bassano calls out a greeting in Spanish. We’re invited in and make our way to her bedside. Doña Francisca and her daughter greet us, and we light a candle.
We make conversation, sing together, pray for her and her family, and give her Holy Communion. As we get ready to leave, each of us goes to give her a hug. When it’s my turn, doña Francisca, her eyes bright, pulls me even closer, and earnestly thanks us for visiting. It’s taken me a while to recognize Christ right in front of me, thanking me. We say our goodbyes and cross back over the stream.
Joshua Sisolak, MKLM
Four of us Maryknoll affiliates joined a pilgrimage to Assisi, Italy, to learn more about the nonviolence and peacemaking of Saints Francis and Clare. As part of the trip, we were led through a dramatization of the story of St. Francis making peace between a wolf and the city of Gubbio. Afterward, we talked about the lessons in nonviolence this story holds for us today. We thought about the wolves in our lives. Who do we scapegoat for our problems? St. Francis bravely stepped forward to acknowledge the wolf’s hunger. What wolves are we not willing to confront? Can we appreciate the wounds that our wolves have suffered?
St. Francis and the wolf arrived at a solution to the wolf’s hunger and violence. Solutions may not come quickly or easily to us, but we can try to better understand our wolf’s situation and think about what would help us build a future better for all of us.
Mary Ryan-Hotchkiss,
Maryknoll affiliate
Featured image: Maryknoll Father Robert McCahill (Paul Jeffrey/Bangladesh)
