510 - April 2011
March 10th, 2011 - April 7th, 2011

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AFRICA-MADAGASCAR

First perpetual vows in the mission

Every journey begins with a single step, and though one might walk for millions and millions of steps, the journey itself becomes joyful and full of life and enthusiasm when a significant leap that marks growth, development and change occurs. For the Province of OMI Lacombe, the recent occasion, when Gideon RIMBERIA and Joseph MAGAMBO made their final vows, was not only a joyful and a memorable occasion but equally one that marks a significant growth, small as it might seem, for the Kenya mission. They were the first Oblates from this mission to profess final vows. The multitude of people from all over Kionyo parish and quite a number of dignitaries that came to witness and cheer on Gideon and Joseph on their journey of life as Oblates showed the ‘grandeur’ of the occasion. A rough estimate of about 2,000 people attended the historic event. 

Gideon himself described his emotions at the Mass of Oblation: “I couldn’t believe my eyes. Though I was facing the altar, I glanced once in a while behind me to see the multitude of people gathered to witness our final commitment. Deep inside me, I felt that something was happening, something bigger than myself, something that I couldn’t explain by words then, but now I would figure it out as a way of letting myself be driven by the Spirit, like Moses, closer to the burning bush to discover in a deeper way God’s presence. I felt so peaceful, so relaxed. The singing, the ululations, the dances, the hugs, the greetings, the congratulations and above all the Holy Eucharist accompanied by a very inspiring homily delivered by our provincial, Fr. John M. MALAZDREWICH, made me feel that this was one of my most important transitions in my life history so far. When I made my vows, I knew that a way of being a witness of Christ in the presence of the same people that had come to witness my ‘crowning’ had begun. For sure, it wasn’t my first day in religious life, but I would say that at this step I feel mature; for the past few years, I have done much inner exploration and am more equipped to journey on with God’s guidance. With my little experience, I know that man’s search for the meaning of life is a built-in desire to find or discover his purpose and then to pursue that purpose with passion. For me, my purpose is to be a witness of Christ in our society today. 

“With Christ as our model, I also have as models some great men; these are the men that I aspire to be like in my own unique way. I remember in a special way the founders of the Kenya mission and a few deserve to be named for their heroic missionary zeal. I still remember Fr. Harold KAUFMANN whose missionary zeal was always an inspiration to many youths of my parish. May his soul rest in peace. Our great mentor and example of all times since our prenovitiate, Fr. Bill STANG, will forever live in my memory as a man of honour who leads by example and I am always proud of him. Then there were the formators during our prenovitiate: Bro. Harley MAPES, Bro. Roman ZAPADKA and Father Joseph JACEK. Father Ken FOSTER, the superior of the Kenya mission for quite a long time, is a man whose inspiration and foundational projects put the mission on a sound basis. 

“I also recognize the former superior, Fr. Alfred GROLEAU, whose commitment to formation and the mission of Kenya in general has been significant in so many ways. We equally salute all the efforts of the present day missionaries in Kenya whose endeavors are fruitful to the growth of the mission.” (www.omilacombe.ca



Cracked feet and blood shot eyes
I stopped by the traffic light as it turned red. I saw on the sidewalk a young boy. He wore a torn, checkered shirt; the black shiny grit on it suggested that it hadn’t been washed in a while. The short pants he had weren’t any better. His buttocks protruded from his backside, garnishing the holes on his pants. Dust clung to his long, stick-like legs and cracks covered his hard feet. He tapped on my window and as I opened it, in a cracked voice, through dry lips, he muttered: “Uncle, may I have R5 to buy some food?” The breath from his mouth was, at the least, repulsive. He smelled of the streets on which he lived: dry, rotten and ugly. His appearance was the personification of his surroundings. As he spoke to me I put on as best I could a pretentious smile, feigning welcome, and yet betrayed by my eyes which held him in judgmental disdain. I looked at him and saw nothing more than a delicate frame, enfleshed with mere scrapings of meat embedded onto a shaky skeleton. Something about the way he stood spoke of his tiredness no less than his great sadness. His body spoke of a weariness that embraced him and cut deep to his very soul. I looked at his feet. Those cracked feet told the story of a boy who has been through a lot.

They speak of the distant roads on which they had to walk, comfortable in shoes at first, which sooner than later had to be traded for food. They speak of gravel roads and spiky stones. They speak of bush paths and foot trails. They speak of long, winding, hot tar roads. They speak of hiking days and cold dark nights under starless skies. They speak of momentary relief in the back of a truck. They speak of dangers they had to flee from and dark, terrifying alleys in big city streets. They speak of suffering, hurt and pain. They speak of a journey in which a boy became a man. They speak of a journey they wish they never had to take. They speak of all the things his eyes have seen. 

I looked right into his bloodshot eyes and knew that the story of his feet was true. I saw in his eyes the pain that lay deep within. I saw the sleepless nights and the tears shed. I saw the land in which a son became an orphan and parents became a memory. I saw the fear within a boy as he crouched in hiding, afraid of the iron hand that crushed his squatter camp home. I saw the devils that razed his home and the inferno that gobbled it up as they ‘cleaned up the city’ and ‘took out the trash’. I saw his home burn and I saw him defeated and crushed; then I saw him cry his heart out. I saw him like at birth, pulled from his hiding place and shoved into a truck. I saw him in a reserve, sleeping in government tents with twenty other people. I saw hundred of tents with thousands of people. I saw soldiers bully him and I saw him hungry and in pain. I saw him run and run, tears in his eyes, pain in his heart, nothing in his mind and no future in his sight. I looked into his eyes and tears flowed out of mine. The light turned green, I rolled up my window and drove away. I left him standing there: open hand, cracked feet and blood shot eyes. (Scholastic Bro. John Nhlanhla MHLANGA in Networking Cedara, February 21-27, 2011)


Oblates Attend 2011 World Social Forum

Oblates from several regions participated in the recent World Social Forum held in Dakar, Senegal, February 6-11. Patti Radle, a member of the United States JPICcommittee, described her experience: “Itis very emotional and encouraging to be around thousands and thousands of people who are so sincere about making a better world and seeing beyond borders.” The World Social Forum is an annual summit heldby non-governmental organizations, civil society members and religious leaders working to create a more sustainable and equitable world.

At a Mass at the cathedral in Dakar, the local archbishop, CardinalThéodore-Adrien Sarr, gave a blessing and offered prayers for those attending the World Social Forum.

Oblate JPIC General Service Director, Fr. Camille PICHÉ, hosted an informal inaugural gathering for Oblate participants to convey expectations and a debriefing session following the forum to share experiences.Oblates participate in the World Social Forum in order to express solidarity with the thousands of participants meeting both to share concerns and explore effective responses to a diversity of issues,from globalization, ecological sustainability and trafficking of women and children, to trade relations of nations, extractive industries and indigenous peoples’ issues. The Oblate Delegation in Senegalprovided hospitality to the Oblate participants. (http://omiusajpic.org)



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