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Maria Ressa. Information that gives hope.

“We want to create a federation of international journalistic organisations that collaborate in this effort, starting from the global South,” says Filipino journalist and 2022 Nobel Peace Prize winner Maria Ressa.

Sixty-one years old, a former investigative television reporter for CNN from Southeast Asia, since 2011 she has been the soul of Rappler, a Philippine information portal that has become the symbol of a free press in a country where family dynasties and their interests have
always dominated politics.

Maria Ressa repeatedly reminds us of how, in recent years, social networks have been increasingly used to spread fake news and attack opponents. This transforms the violence of social networks
into physical violence.

“It was still 2016 – she says – when we at Rappler published the results of an investigation showing the existence of 26 fake Facebook accounts capable of influencing 3 million profiles alone. They had started by attacking journalists, activists, opposition politicians. And through the mechanism of social media, this fake news spread everywhere. Two years later, MIT in Boston confirmed it with its own study: ‘Fake news travels six times faster online than other news’”.

From there to violence, it was just a short step: “Social media do not work on rationality but on emotions” – she continues -. When I started working as a television reporter, 39 years ago, they taught me that the first 10 seconds of my report would be crucial to capture people’s attention. Today some studies say that the audience we address has an attention span similar to that of a goldfish: less than 3 seconds”. And it is in this context that having all the data available to reach us can become a terrifying weapon in the hands of the powerful.”

“Every time we published an investigation on Rappler, the response was to attack me for my eczema, a physical weakness of mine – says the journalist -. They started circulating memes in which they depicted me as Scroto Face. A sexist insult, to discredit me and even more to dehumanize me, the premise that paves the way for all violence. Judicial investigations and arrest warrant only came at the end of this journey. And it happens even more often if you are a woman or if you belong to a minority: a UNESCO survey found that 73% of female journalists have experienced some form of abuse online.”

After the Nobel Peace Prize, Maria Ressa published an international bestseller, entitled “How to Resist a Dictator”, where the reference is to Rodrigo Duterte, president of Manila from 2016 to 2022, the man of the death squads in the fight against drugs. But her battle is not just
for the Philippines.

Since the speech given in Oslo, at the Nobel ceremony, she explained in no uncertain terms that the problem is not the dictators of the moment, but the masters of the algorithms, the large companies that, having access to all our data, place weapons as powerful as the Hiroshima atomic bomb in their hands.

“The book came out in November 2022, the same week ChatGpt was launched – she recalls -. It has been translated into 25 languages, and it is interesting to see how its title also changes in the different versions. In Japanese, for example, they focused much more on the power of social media, which is the issue that concerns us all. It was recently released in Georgia and it was touching for me to see the people who have been protesting in the streets for weeks against electoral fraud taking it with them to the demonstrations.”

“What happened to us is happening even more rapidly in other parts of the world” – Maria Ressa continues -. Last year we had elections in 74 countries, but what kind of elections were they? This year, we will see the effects. The information war, the geopolitical power games, are increasingly shamelessly exploiting the mechanisms of the platforms. Their goal is not to make us believe in something, but to make us doubt everything. It is the most effective way to paralyze people and move forward pursuing their own interests.”

If this is the scenario today, for Maria Ressa it is not true that nothing can be done to stop it. It is precisely the determination to move forward in the battle for truth in information. Rappler in the Philippines is now a company in which 120 people work. But she thinks much bigger: “In 14 years of lies and disinformation against us, we have understood that if you let them do it, they will destroy hope,” explains its founder.

She continues: “But we have also understood that the alternative exists: we need to get organized and build platforms where real people can go back to having real conversations with each other, without being manipulated for power and money. At Rappler, we have started to do this: last year, we launched an app that has a space for conversations and comments in chat where we guarantee that your data will not be manipulated by the algorithm and sold. What we are seeing is that investing in a tool like this improves communication: there are very few cases of people who have had to be blocked for offensive
comments towards others.”

Maria Ressa points out: “We want to create a federation of international journalistic organisations that collaborate in this effort, starting from the global South. We are already working with partners in Indonesia, South Africa and Brazil; in the coming months, they should also start using our app. Collaborate. Journalists coming together to reaffirm their role in society. But this commitment alone is not enough. We no longer have control over distribution as we did in the era of traditional media. Precisely for this reason, collaborating also means recreating
networks in society.”

“One of Rappler’s strengths, for example, is fact-checking, that is, verifying the news that is circulated online. We have 16 people who do this. But it would be useless if there wasn’t another level above them, made up of 116 associations, civil society entities, religious groups that spread the results of this fact-checking in their communities, from person to person, giving life to information campaigns. And then 8 university centres that produce analyses on how lies are spread. And also six law firms to defend themselves from the attacks of those who
don’t want all this… ».

“Without facts, you can’t have the truth. Without truth, you can’t have trust. And without these three things, we do not have a shared reality, much less can we solve the problems that afflict us.” Because this, in the end, is what information and democracy are for. (Photo: © Rappler)

Georgio Bernardelli/MM

African Culture. The Elders; they are a blessing.

Respect for elders is a core value in the African culture. It comes from the mentality which values the past more than the future. Some people call it a mythical mentality that looks towards the past more than towards the future. In this mentality, things that happened in the past are held in high esteem.

The present depends on the past as the future depends on the present. Likewise, the young depend on elders. The elder par excellence is God Himself. In Luganda language in Uganda, the elder is called Ssewannaku, the equivalent of the Biblical ‘Ancient of Days’. The Zulu people in South Africa refer to God as ‘Unkulunkulu’, using the Bantu root – kulu, which means both great and old. Moreover, the duplication of kulu points to the fact that God is greater and older than all. The Baluba people of The Democratic Republic of Congo call God ‘Mvidie Mukulu’, the Great Spirit, the oldest of all. Greatness goes together with age. Traditionally, Africans worship God through divinities, ancestors and lesser spirits because God is considered to be too great to be approached directly.
He is far away from us as some myths point out, far away in greatness, distance and age.

The elders are the pillars of society. File swm

After God comes the ancestors. These are the elders of humanity. They somehow share in the ‘ancientness’ of God. It is from them that we get our land, traditions, language, political systems and culture in general. Although they lived long before us, we participate in their life, i.e. we live today what they lived in the past. For a young man or woman who undergoes initiation into adulthood, it is not enough to imitate his/her parents or grandparents; one must participate, in a personal and ritual manner, in the life of the ancestors by repeating what they did.
In Africa, we depend on our ancestors for many things and we owe them obedience if we are to live well.
Life and blessings come from God through the ancestors. This is why most of African worship is directed to the ancestors.
Sacrifices and libations are given to them as a token of reverence and love. Quite often, diseases, calamities, misfortunes and natural disasters are interpreted as consequences of the neglect of the ancestors. The wisdom of the ancestors evident in myths, proverbs, wise sayings, riddles, etc. is considered to be a treasure. Through it, our ancestors continue to instruct and advise us.

The elders participate not by doing but by being. File swm

Some African societies have gerontocracies, i.e., the rule of the old. Power is diffused among the elders and no single individual can claim to have authority and power over the others. These are societies that have a class of warriors who defend whole villages from external aggressors under the direction of the elders. They are always armed but submit to the elders who can punish them for wrongdoing. The power of the elders is not in weapons but in their capacity to curse those who create disorder in the community. A curse is believed to cause misfortunes like barrenness, sickness, failures in undertakings and even untimely death. While the young warriors believe in the divine power and wisdom of the elders, they dread their curse.The African saying that you cannot construct a new hut without using old poles points to the importance of the presence of the elders on several occasions. People seek blessings from the elders before marriage, on long journeys, when looking for jobs, or any important undertakings. Moreover, they are the ones who saw the last ancestors alive. During marriages, funerals and feasts, the elders are asked just to be there. They may be somewhere in a hut, eating, drinking and talking among themselves but their presence is felt and appreciated not for practical work or economic production but presence. It is their presence that guarantees the validity and success of every important ceremony. In this way, they are the living ancestors.

The elders are not burdens to society; they are a blessing. File swm

They are the pillars of society and their participation in important occasions is not pragmatic but ontological, that is, they participate not by doing but by being.Now that modern life has made some people forget their history, customs, taboos, rituals and even the correct way of speaking their language, the elders are a great source of information. This is why we say: “When an elder dies, it is a whole library that is burnt”. Therefore, traditional Africa does not depend on literature for wisdom; it depends on those who have lived longest and whose experience has made them wise.
It is important to note that the living elders are not burdens to society; they are a blessing. It will therefore take time in Africa to build houses where elderly people are kept and looked after away from their families and relatives. Thus, the fact that they are of age shows that they are blessed by God. They can transmit this blessing to members of their community. (Open Photo: 123rf)

Edward Kanyike

The Catholic Church. The repression goes on.

A ferocious campaign against the Catholic Church. Priests imprisoned and tortured. Bishops, priests and religious expelled. Nationality revoked. Christian communities deprived of their popular devotions.

On Sunday afternoon, our meeting place is the Plaza Inter shopping centre, in the food court near the Hugo Chávez roundabout, in the centre of Managua. I see him arrive, he looks around and walks with his head down. He is young. He has only been a priest for a few years. His parish is not far from the capital. He sits down, but continues to look around. “We are afraid. We are followed everywhere. Our homilies are recorded and our phones are tapped. At any moment we can be stopped and arrested,” he says as if to apologize.
The young priest tells a sad story: “I was not yet a priest when it happened. I will never forget that day: it was July 13, 2018. I was in the Church of Divine Mercy, which is located behind the National Autonomous University. The police and paramilitaries attacked the students barricaded inside the university, and some managed to escape by taking refuge in the church. The police and paramilitaries opened fire on the church, the windows were broken and even the tabernacle was pierced by bullets. For twelve hours, fire and bullets rained down on unarmed young students.

The walls of the Church of Divine Mercy riddled with bullets. At least one student was killed and several were injured. Photo: Social Media

Inside, some of them were crying, others were recording their last messages to their parents, which is what I did too. So much anger towards these kids. Only after the intervention of Cardinal Leopoldo Brenes, Archbishop of Managua, and the nuncio, Waldemar Stanisaw Sommertag, after a long negotiation, did they come to get us. This prevented a massacre.”And he continues: “Some of these kids were later arrested. Others managed to escape and take refuge in Costa Rica.” In the past seven years, the violence of the Ortega government has manifested itself through expulsions, arbitrary arrests, direct attacks on religious leaders, stigmatisations and hate speech against freedom of worship.On March 12, 2022, the Nicaraguan government decided to expel the nuncio, Monsignor Waldemar Stanislaw Sommertag. Nicaragua is the only country in America and the 13th in the World to have frozen relations with the Holy See.
Lawyer Molina Montenegro has documented the systematic attacks on the Catholic Church. The report lists 870 attacks on the Nicaraguan Catholic Church, in its various expressions, between April 2018, when the popular demonstrations began, and 2024. These are facts listed one by one and verified by the author, divided into different categories.

A patrol car with riot police stationed outside the church of San Miguel in Masaya. A systematic attack on the Catholic Church. Photo: Social Media

There were approximately 313 impediments and threats to priests and religious, including arrests, trials and deportations; 219 attacks, “sieges”, and bans on churches and religious structures; 95 thefts and profanations; 91 episodes of threats and repression against lay faithful; 86 hate speeches and messages; 47 closures of mass media or charitable projects and works, with 14 religious congregations having to cease their activities in the country; 19 confiscations of property linked to the Church. Not to mention the 9,688 processions in public spaces prohibited by the police, for example during Holy Week. Sometimes, the rites were held inside churches, and many other times they were cancelled. Since November, the regime has prohibited priests from entering public hospitals to administer the sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick. The young priest comments: “People often look for us at night and ask us to go with them. Those who are dying desperately
ask for a priest.”

From the left: Mgr. Carlos Enrique Herrera Gutiérrez, bishop of Jinotega and president of the Episcopal Conference of Nicaragua, Mgr. Rolando Álvarez, bishop of Matagalpa, Mgr. Isidoro Mora, bishop of Siuna were expelled from the country. Mgr. Silvio José Báez, auxiliary bishop of Managua, also had to go into exile in 2019. File swm

More than 245 priests, men and women religious have been expelled from the country. Among them are three bishops: Mgr. Carlos Enrique Herrera Gutiérrez, bishop of Jinotega and president of the Episcopal Conference of Nicaragua, Mgr. Rolando Álvarez, bishop of Matagalpa, Mgr. Isidoro Mora, bishop of Siuna. Mgr. Silvio José Báez, auxiliary bishop of Managua, also had to go into exile in 2019.
More than 30 nuns of the order of Santa Clara, known as the Poor Clares, were expelled from Nicaragua on the night between January 28 and 29 of this year. The nuns were taken from their three monasteries in Managua, Matagalpa, 128 kilometres northeast of the capital, and Chinandega, in the northwest of Nicaragua, not far from Honduras.

More than 30 nuns of the order of Santa Clara, known as the Poor Clares, were expelled from Nicaragua on the night between January 28 and 29 of this year. Photo: Despacho 55

The diocese most affected was that of Matagalpa, the clergy consisted, before the persecution began, of 71 diocesan and religious priests. Currently, 13 priests are present in Matagalpa, the others have been exiled, and are supported by 9 religious to assist 615,685 baptised faithful, distributed over 6,804 square kilometres.
The real thorn in the side of the regime is Bishop Rolando Álvarez. The Nicaraguan bishop was detained for 17 months in his country, first under house arrest and then in prison, accused by Daniel Ortega’s regime of “conspiracy” and “betrayal of the homeland”, among other crimes, for which he was sentenced to 26 years and four months in prison. After a long negotiation with the Holy See, Bishop Rolando Álvarez was expelled and sent to Rome.
In a recent interview. Msgr. Rolando Álvarez said: “I arrived in Rome below zero, below zero in all my psychological, psychiatric, emotional, affective, sentimental, moral, spiritual, physical and somatic capacities. Now, a year later, I can say that I have recovered 90%”.

Mgr. Rolando Álvarez, bishop of Matagalpa. “I will continue to be bishop of Matagalpa and apostolic administrator of Estelí as long as God wants it”. Photo: EWTN

And he continues: “In the same week of my arrival I would have resigned from my diocese of Matagalpa and the apostolic administration of Estelí. I was ready to present my resignation to the Pope, but I was welcomed by the goodness of God and the Holy Father who wanted me to continue being the ordinary of Matagalpa and the apostolic administrator of Estelí, even though I was in the diaspora. I do not call it exile because I am not exiled, I am liberated. I do not feel exiled, but liberated. In the diaspora faith always grows and hope is strengthened. I have always believed in my liberation. In prison, I learned two things: it is a mistake to think that a prisoner will never get out, just as it is a mistake for a prisoner to think that he will never get out. What sustained me was prayer, not only mine, but that of all the faithful people of God in Nicaragua and in the world. I love my people deeply. I will continue to be bishop of Matagalpa and apostolic administrator of Estelí as long as God wants it. May the Lord bless all the Nicaraguan people and Latin America!”
I look carefully at this young priest while he is drinking his coffee, and ask what will happen to the priests who are supporting the Ortega-Murillo dictatorship. He raises his head and with a deep gaze says: “We know very well who they are. We will have to arrive at a strong response. Many of our priests have been in prison and have been tortured while they ate and drank with those who decided to torture the priests. There is justice that is not only divine. We will have to arrive at a showdown. There can never be forgiveness or reconciliation without justice. And I am waiting for that day.” (Photo: Expediente Publico/Youtube)

Nohemy Ana Rocha

 

Africans in Israel. The difficult integration.

The intertwining of past and present tells of continuity and change at the same time. Many stories of African communities that have settled over the centuries in the Holy Land exist. Today, the challenge is the integration and inclusion of migrants.

The African presence in Israel is the result of a long and fascinating history, intertwined with the present, of a country in continuous transformation. African Jewish communities, such as the Beta Israel from Ethiopia, have contributed to enriching and strengthening the religious identity of the State of Israel. At the same time, recent waves of migration from Africa have brought new challenges and opportunities, adding further nuances to the already diverse social and demographic panorama of Israel. This intertwining of past and present tells a story of continuity and change, where ancient traditions meet the challenges and opportunities of modernity.

A Kessim explains to young Ethiopians the origins of his community and the journey to reach Israel. Photo: Irene Ramírez

The historic African communities linked to the Holy Land are distinguished by their cultural and religious diversity, but they share centuries of ties with this territory. Among them, the Ethiopian Christian pilgrims, the Muslim communities from Mali and Chad, and the Ethiopian Jews (Beta Israel) stand out. An emblematic example of the Christian presence is the monastery of Deir-es-Sultan in Jerusalem, in the care of the monks of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church. This place, located above the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, represents a place of worship and a symbol of Ethiopian cultural and spiritual resistance throughout the centuries. On the Muslim front, the community of Arab al-Mansuri, formed by pilgrims from West Africa during the Ottoman period, bears witness to the integration of African pilgrims into the life of Jerusalem. Although numerically small, this community still maintains its cultural and religious identity today.
Ethiopian Jews, on the other hand, have profoundly shaped the demographic and religious composition of Israel. Key moments in their recent history were the Moses operations (1984) and Solomon (1991) that brought thousands of Beta Israel to the country. Although their arrival was celebrated as a “return to the promised land,” their integration has faced significant obstacles, including systemic discrimination, economic hardship, and the lack of recognition
of their religious traditions.

Memorial to the Ethiopian community on Mount Herzel, Jerusalem. Photo: Irene Ramírez

The memorial on Mount Herzl is both a tribute to their struggles and sacrifices and a reminder to Israeli society to continue working toward greater inclusion and equality. The site is not only a space of commemoration but also a place of reflection on how Israel deals with the complexity of its multicultural identity.
An important African presence in Israel is that of the Mizrahim, a now obsolete term that indicated Jews from North Africa and the Middle East. Although now fully integrated into Israel, their experience represents a significant chapter in the history of migration to Israel. Between the 1950s and 1970s, Jews from Libya, Algeria, Egypt and; in particular, Morocco emigrated en-masse to Israel.
Many of them were relegated to refugee camps (Ma’abarot) and lived in conditions of severe marginalization. Moroccan Jews, among the most discriminated against, were often stereotyped and criminalised because of their skin colour and origins, earning them offensive names such as marochi-saqin (Moroccan-knife).
In recent decades, Israel has become a destination for economic migrants and asylum seekers from Eritrea, Sudan, Nigeria, and Ghana. Most asylum seekers, fleeing dictatorships and conflicts, have crossed the Sinai desert to reach Israel, overcoming extremely dangerous conditions. Concentrated mainly in the southern neighbourhoods of Tel Aviv, such as Neve Sha’anan, they live in a state of legal precariousness. Israel, although not a signatory to the 1951 Geneva Convention, grants temporary protection to many of them, but without full access to education, healthcare, or regular employment. Alongside asylum seekers, economic migrants from Nigeria and Ghana work in key sectors such as construction and domestic services.
Although less visible, these communities make a significant contribution to the country’s economy, while facing marginalization and difficulties in obtaining permanent residence permits.

African youth in Tel Aviv. Most asylum seekers, fleeing dictatorships and conflicts, have crossed the Sinai desert to reach Israel. File swm

Growing diversity represents a crucial challenge for Israel, which is faced with the need to manage an increasingly heterogeneous population. The contemporary African presence, intertwined with a history of deep ties with the Holy Land, forces the country to question the values of inclusion, acceptance, and equality. The new waves of migration are urging Israel, in fact, to reconsider its role as a multicultural and multi-religious state. A step towards greater inclusion could be represented by more inclusive policies towards African migrants, both by recognizing their rights and by promoting integration programs.
The example of the African Hebrew Israelites community could offer ideas for a more harmonious coexistence between historical groups and those of today. This is an African-American community that settled in Israel in the 1960s. Coming mainly from the United States, these groups define themselves as direct descendants of the lost tribes of Israel. Although initially not officially recognized as Jews by Tel Aviv, they have since established a well-organized community. Growing diversity, if managed with care and respect, can transform from a challenge into an asset, further enriching Israel’s cultural mosaic and strengthening the principles on which the country is founded. (Open Photo: File swm  – 123rf)

Matteo D’Avanzo

Central African Republic. Forgotten and invisible children.

When conflicts subside, children used by armed groups become the most forgotten victims. In an area in the south of the Central African Republic, some of them are trying to reintegrate in the face
of great difficulties.

Sitting under a tree, in a large courtyard next to a water pump where several women come to fill their jerrycans, 20 teenagers wait in silence. It is just before eight in the morning and the office of the NGO that called them to the Central African city of Alindao is about to open. They left their village 15 kilometres away, very early, before 5 am. The local chief, Arthur, gives them one last piece of advice before the social workers start calling them one by one.
The twelve boys and eight girls belong to the category of “children associated with armed groups”, a nomenclature that the institutions that help these minors describe as more accurate than that of “child soldiers”, as they have been known for decades. These are minors who have spent time in militias or rebel groups as fighters, or who have been forced to perform other tasks, such as porters, spies, cooks, guards or, very often in the case of girls, sex slaves.

‘Children associated with armed groups are young people who have spent time in militias or rebel groups as fighters. File swm

“When the militias came to our village, neither these children nor their parents had any choice,” Arthur recalls. “They selected all the children they thought could be useful to them and forced them to go with them.” As state authority gradually returned to the area, three years ago some rebel groups disbanded and the minors who were in its ranks returned to their homes. “Almost all the leaders of the various guerrilla groups were conscripted into the army, but the children returned traumatised, many sick or with unhealed wounds. Others disappeared or were believed to be dead,” Arthur continues.
Today, the NGO staff conducts an individual interview with each of them. Once their family and social profile are known, an attempt will be made to provide those who were unable to return to school with training courses in mechanics, bricklaying, commerce, sewing, etc., so that they can practice a trade that will facilitate their reintegration.

Village women with their children. “”When the militias came to our village, neither these children nor their parents had any choice”. File swm

The prefecture of Basse Kotto, in the south of the Central African Republic, was one of the most affected by the crisis that erupted in the country in 2013 when the Muslim-majority Seleka rebels took power. Following the intervention of international forces, the Seleka fragmented into several militias. One of these, the Unit for Peace in Central Africa (UPC), led by warlord Ali Darrassa, settled in the central and southern areas of the country including Basse Kotto, recruiting mainly young Peul ethnic groups, semi-nomadic shepherds who follow the Muslim religion. At the same time, anti-balaka militias, which emerged to fight the Seleka, and therefore the Islamic community, spread across the
area like an oil slick.

Anti-Balaka militia. The anti-balaka forced countless minors to join their ranks. CC BY-SA 4.0/Clementalline

The worst moment of the crisis erupted when, in November 2018, the UPC – supported by a group of young radical Muslims – attacked a camp for displaced people in Alindao, killing 120 civilians and wounding hundreds more. The conflict entered a spiral of endless violence, and in the surrounding villages, everyone was forced to choose a side, leaving no room for neutrality, under penalty of being branded as traitors. The anti-balaka forced countless minors to join their ranks, in a dynamic of relentless confrontation between Muslims and Christians.
A few years ago, most of the anti-balaka groups disbanded and today government soldiers, supported by Russian mercenaries from the Wagner group, exercise some control over the affected areas. But the UPC is still active in various areas, where it extorts money from the civilian population and carries out sporadic surprise attacks, often on the roads, where traffic is not without risks.

An uncertain number
Children associated with the armed groups have been the big losers of the crisis years. In the villages where the Anti-balaka recruited minors until recently, they have returned home empty-handed and with a myriad of problems. A community network, RECOPE (Community Child Protection Network), supported by several humanitarian organizations, works with local leaders to support these children. Its president assures that “it is almost impossible to know the exact number of minors who have spent years with the militias, because there is still a lot of insecurity in the area and many of the boys who were forced to fight are hiding, because they are afraid of possible reprisals from the other side, especially in the most remote villages of Alindao”. RECOPE members sensitize people in the villages to understand the problems of children who the armed groups have abandoned and to support them as best they can. They present lists of names to NGOs so that, after appropriate checks, they can access reintegration programs.

It is difficult to know the exact number of minors who have spent years with the militias. File swm

One of them, Thierry, 18, now lives with his parents in a suburb of Alindao, where he combines his studies with two small businesses: a kiosk where he sells various items and a stable where he raises pigs. Thierry recalls how, at the age of 14, the Anti-balaka came to his area one day and forced him to go with them: “They made me do military training, they gave me a rifle and I spent two years fighting the UPC,” he explains. He and other boys of his age also took part in attacks on villages of the Peul communities, almost always looting and burning their homes.”One day I managed to escape. I went back to my parents and since then I have stayed at home, I have not moved from here,” he says. Thierry has been supported with therapies to overcome the trauma he has suffered. The same NGO helped him to resume his studies and with the course in which he learned the basics of small business management.

Central African Republic. Kids playing football on the streets. An apparent calm reigns.
Shutterstock/sandis sveicers

Today, in Alindao, an atmosphere of normalcy and apparent calm reigns. Christians and Muslims meet at the market, at the same hospital, in the same schools, and even at football matches organized by young people.
Overshadowed by the wars in Ukraine and Gaza, the Central African Republic is no longer in the spotlight of the international community. Their low-intensity conflict hardly attracts attention. In most of its territory, the weapons have fallen silent, but in the hearts of the victims, the traumas suffered continue to damage people, especially the minors who have been used by the armed groups. Some will be able to find opportunities to move forward. Others, in the most remote areas, will remain invisible. (Open Photo: File swm – Pierre Holtz /UNICEF)

José Carlos Rodríguez/MTM

Mission. In the school of life and humanity.

Three young Comboni missionaries from three continents share their vocation stories and missionary experiences.

Fr Victor Cunanan Parungao from the Philippines reflects on 15 years of his priestly life.

As a child in a large family with ten siblings, I observed my parents, particularly my father, working tirelessly as a farmer and calesa driver, a local means of transport in the Philippines, to meet our daily needs. I, for my part, was a street vendor, selling corn and bananas in our village, a tricycle driver, and a canteen waiter, all to earn extra money
for my studies.

I can affirm that the uncertainties and doubts along my vocational journey have heightened my awareness of the abundance of God’s grace that has shaped me into a Comboni Missionary. My years at the University of the Philippines, my work experience—especially in the Department of Social Welfare and Development—my interactions with the indigenous people of my province, and my commitment to our parish have all led me to my missionary vocation.

In 1999, I embarked on my journey of discernment with the Comboni Missionaries. After one year, I joined the postulancy formation programme at St. Daniel Comboni Seminary. After two years in the Postulancy, I was admitted to the Novitiate.

This stage allowed me to deepen my relationship with the Lord and dedicate myself to the mission. As a newly professed scholastic, I was sent to Pietermaritzburg, South Africa, to continue my formation and pursue my theological studies.

During this period of formation, I came to appreciate even more the internationality and interculturality of our Institute. Theological studies, combined with practical ways of living my missionary vocation in an international context, enabled me to better grasp the radical nature of God’s call to me. Living my own culture while embracing the gifts of other cultures has enriched my understanding and appreciation
of community life.

On 6 February 2010, I was ordained as a Comboni priest in our parish in Pampanga. Shortly thereafter, I was assigned as an assistant formator at St. Daniel Comboni Seminary. After five years in this role, I requested our superiors to assign me outside the Philippines, seeking to gain experience in a pastoral setting.

In 2015, I was sent to Central America, specifically to Guatemala. This significant moment enhanced my missionary life, as I had the opportunity to meet and live alongside other remarkable Comboni Missionaries. My brief missionary service in the parish of San Luis, Petén, Guatemala, opened my eyes to the richness and diversity of each culture. It was a profoundly impactful experience that has significantly shaped my missionary life.

Now, I am back in the Philippines, serving as the Rector and Formator of our seminary.  I constantly pray to remember that every vocation story is a gift, and the underlying truth of all vocation stories is that they are meant to lead us into a relationship with God. My ‘yes’ to God’s call to the missionary life has been such a blessing for 15 years and counting.

I have been able to utilise my gifts to serve in various ministries and have met wonderful people along the way. I am immensely grateful for the gift of my missionary vocation, and I beseech the Lord to always make me a bearer of hope, mercy, and compassion to all.

Sr Eulalia: “To honour my name”

“Twelve years of missionary life in Zambia have changed my mentality and spirituality”, says Spanish Sister Eulalia Capdevila Enriquez.

From my childhood, I remember the hours spent with my sisters and my brother, and also my cousins, among fruit trees. We were farmers and my love for the countryside, plants and trees grew naturally.

From my mother, a migrant, a creative and enterprising woman, I learned to explore life and not to be satisfied with what I have learned, but to always look beyond and accept new challenges.

From my father, I learned as a child that there was a continent called Africa. He always told us about his experiences in Cameroon, where he spent some years as a lay missionary. I grew up in this environment where the narratives of Africa and those of Jesus were harmoniously intertwined. During my adolescence, the news showed the terrible famine in Ethiopia and, later, from other African countries.

I wondered how people could die while we had a place to grow crops and get food. For the first time, I felt that the world was unfair and that I had to do something. I wanted to lend my voice to announce the Good News honouring my name and also to lend my hands so that no one would ever go hungry.

That was the greatest challenge that a shy and fearful teenager could have chosen. I entered the School of Agricultural Engineering thinking that I would be useful one day somewhere in Africa, but the truth was that I still did not know where to go.

In 1997, together with the young people of my parish, I participated in the World Youth Day in Paris. There were more than a million of us young people and I will never forget the evening when John Paul II gave us a catechesis on John 1:38: “Master, where do you live? Come and see”.

That evening I realized that if I did not believe in the word of Jesus, I would not go anywhere. I had to take a big step. That same year, in October, I met by chance, at a prayer meeting, a lay Comboni missionary who invited me to meet his group.

I took the big step and for a year I greatly appreciated the missionary atmosphere and the formative process that we had, accompanied by the Comboni Missionaries. Before the end of that period, one of them said to me: “I think you should meet the Comboni Missionary Sisters”.

From that moment my life was transformed, because I found my place in the world by living my missionary vocation as a consecrated woman according to the Comboni charism.

My first missionary experience in Zambia shaped me in such a way that I feel “blessed”. I have been living my missionary vocation in Zambia for 12 years. The experiences are many, but I will tell you only three moments. The first was in a chapel in the rural villages, where I gave a group of young people three days of formation on faith and another, more practical, on agroforestry.

Young Christians in rural areas, almost all parents, depend entirely on fishing, livestock breeding and agriculture. One day a boy was caught stealing all the posters we had made in the local language. He confessed that he wanted the materials to be taken to other non-Catholic youth living in more distant villages.

Following this incident, the youth group leaders decided to respond and organized an expedition to visit those villages, so the formation began to open up to other groups outside our parish. The missionary leadership that these young Christians demonstrated was for me the best formation for the Mission I have ever had.

The second moment was when we undertook a project to develop a youth catechesis manual. We wanted to develop it in the local language with the participation of young people from the main parishes of the Diocese of Mongu. The response and commitment they showed exceeded all my expectations. We worked intensively for a year. Once the book was published, the young people volunteered to introduce it with great joy in their parishes and in the college of teachers.

The third moment was when we started to raise awareness among the local population about caring for creation, because the burning of trees for charcoal production was turning our area into a desert.

The initiative began humbly, but with the support of the local traditional chief, there is now a centre called Mother Earth that continues to raise awareness of the need to care for and manage natural resources wisely.

I like to think that such experiences have changed my mentality and spirituality. This school of life and humanity has allowed me to relate to all aspects of life. We must preach Jesus and at the same time try to alleviate the pain of our brothers and sisters.

Father Clement. Along the way

A journey of faith, trials and resilience. Fr Clement Mutie Mbithi from Kenya talks about his vocation journey.

I come from a large Christian-Catholic family and am the sixth of ten children. My late father, a devout Catholic and a man of unwavering faith, passed away in 2020. My mother, who continues to be a source of strength and inspiration, is a woman of deep trust in God. Growing up in this faith-filled environment was a profound blessing, shaping the person I am today and laying the foundation for my vocation
as a missionary.

During my childhood, I was drawn to the activities of the Church. Serving at the altar awakened in me a deep desire to become a priest. Although I kept my dream a secret, my determination to pursue it grew stronger. A pivotal moment came in 2009 when, during a casual conversation, my cousin told me, “You are going to be our family priest”. Her words echoed the deepest desires of my heart, even though I did not openly admit it. This encounter gave me courage and confirmed the path I hoped to follow.

An important turning point came two weeks before my final exams. A Comboni Missionary visited our parish for a vocation promotion. His visit coincided with a thanksgiving Mass in my school where he spoke about the work of the Comboni Missionaries in spreading the Gospel and serving the poorest and most abandoned. His testimony
touched me deeply.

After Mass I approached him with a mixture of fear and excitement and promised to contact him when I had my exam results. After the results I approached him and in 2011 I began my formation journey with the Comboni Missionaries in the pre-postulancy. A year later
I entered the postulancy.

In 2015 I entered the novitiate in Lusaka, Zambia. These two years were marked by intense spiritual growth, silence and discernment. After the novitiate, I was sent to the Scholasticate in Pietermaritzburg, South Africa, for theological studies.

The four years I spent there were transformative, deepening my understanding of theology and the Bible while exposing me to intercultural life within and outside the community.

However, this period was not without challenges. During the CO- COVID-19 pandemic, I lost my father. The inability to return home for his burial was one of the most painful moments of my journey. My father had been a pillar of support throughout my life, and I longed for him to witness the fulfilment of my calling. This experience taught me to trust in God’s plan, even in the face of profound loss, and to find solace in prayer and community.

After my theological studies, I was sent to West Pokot, Kenya, for my pastoral year. This time was a mixture of missionary service and preparation for priestly ordination. I worked closely with the local community, embracing their culture and sharing the Gospel in a way that resonated with their lived experience.

On 30 February 2022, I was ordained a deacon and on 11 June 2022, I was ordained a priest in the Diocese of Kitui. These moments were the culmination of years of discernment, formation and prayer, and marked the beginning of my life as a priest.

After ordination, I continued my studies at the Gregorian University in Rome, specialising in vocational formation. This academic journey deepened my understanding of how to guide and mentor others in their vocational discernment.

In June 2023 I finished my licentiate and returned to Kenya to work in the postulancy formation. Here I accompany young men from Kenya and South Sudan who are preparing to become Comboni Missionaries.

This role is both a privilege and a responsibility as it allows me to share my experience and support others in discerning their call to the missionary life.

Looking back, my journey has been one of growth, challenge and deepening faith. Each stage, from my early family life to my current role as a missionary, has been marked by God’s faithfulness. I have learned to embrace both the joys and the crosses of this vocation, always relying on God’s mercy and grace.

 

 

 

 

The River Niger. A meeting place.

In Mali and Niger, the lives of millions of people depend on the Niger River. Forced to live with the terror of jihadist attacks and military reprisals, and under the threat of an increasingly harsh climate, the inhabitants of the two Sahelian countries entrust their destinies to a river, an inexhaustible source of life, which continues to flow placidly amid the torments of men.

Old Ousmane Djebare Djenepo smiles as he watches the placid waters of the Niger flow around his wooden canoe. The 76-year-old man is one of many Malians who earn their living thanks to the river and the verdant wetlands that surround it. But Djenepo’s smile hides apprehensions. “Before, the river was deep and the fishing seasons were long,” he says. “Now there are far fewer fish and the river has too many problems.” Djenepo heads the association of fishermen in the inner delta of the Niger River, a vast area of ​​land in central Mali. Ecological problems threaten the survival of local populations, already hit hard by the violence of armed jihadist groups that have taken control of the region, governing its most profitable trafficking (drugs, weapons, migrants).

Armed jihadist groups have taken control of the region. 123rf

Since the Islamic militants launched their insurrection in 2012, terror has spread among the inhabitants who live on the Niger, and the repeated attacks on civilians – costing the lives of thousands of defenceless citizens – have emptied entire villages. Due to the insecurity, many farmers have abandoned the patches of land where they once grew courgettes, onions, tomatoes and aubergines. The armed raids by the jihadists, who travel on motorbikes armed with Kalashnikovs, are usually carried out while people are working in the fields, or along the roads on market days when the farmers go to the city with their carts to sell their vegetables. In an increasingly uncertain climate, those who remain can do nothing but entrust their lives to the river, which has always guaranteed daily food and in the event of an attack can represent an escape route. But the problems remain.

The climate change affecting the Sahel, increasingly characterised by prolonged droughts, is draining the Niger dry. File swm

Overfishing has depleted fish stocks in the Niger Inner Delta, and the Sahara Desert is also encroaching on the green floodplains. Concerned Boukary Guindo, director of the government fisheries department for the region, comments: “The situation is going from bad to worse.” The Niger Inner Delta is a complex ecosystem that supports fishing, farming and pastoral communities. During the floods of the rainy season, only pirogues can cross it. But when the waters recede, vast meadows of fresh grass emerge, attracting livestock from across the semi-arid Sahel. Today, this alternation is disappearing.

War among the poor
“The Sahara is ‘swallowing’ the Niger River,” is the blunt view of Hamidou Touré, head of the delta fisheries development office. “Every week, new sandbanks cut off the once productive areas of the delta, and the fish cannot survive in the pools, which evaporate under an increasingly harsh sun.” Also to blame are the dams built since the 1970s, which have altered the course of the third-longest river on the African continent and reduced its flow. Today, the climate of the Sahel, increasingly marked by prolonged droughts, is bleeding the Niger dry.
“The heat causes strong evaporation along the watercourse,” notes Hamidou Touré. “In Bamako, the river has a flow of a thousand cubic meters, but this halves after about 500 kilometres.” And every year, new negative rainfall records are recorded.

High tensions exist between Fulani herders, Bambara farmers, and Bozo fishermen. File swm

“The result is there for all to see: an environmental and human catastrophe waiting to happen,” says Ibrahima Sankaré, of the humanitarian NGO Delta Survie. “What was once the green heart of the Sahel is becoming arid and unproductive. And this is upsetting the fragile balance between populations, which for centuries have ensured peaceful coexistence between Fulani herders, Bambara farmers and Bozo fishermen.” With the progressive impoverishment of resources, tensions are increasing and the rules of customary law devised in ancient times and passed down orally for generations are being undermined. In the dry season, the level of the river goes down allowing small grassy islands to emerge in the middle of the river. The fishermen then move and build makeshift huts and exploit new fishing grounds.
Getting food from the river is a matter of survival, but every human activity in these lands causes environmental repercussions that can cause problems and conflicts.

We civilians are a target
“Our Bozo cousins ​​think fish fall from the sky,” Boukary Guindo says with a sad smile. “They don’t respect closed seasons and raid fish that are breeding, but in doing so they risk decimating the stocks.” Guindo’s work would consist of raising awareness among fishermen about the need to deal with the river responsibly, for example by encouraging them to use nets that spare the smallest fish. However, widespread insecurity in central Mali impedes fieldwork. Since al-Qaeda-affiliated jihadists advanced into this region, the area has become one of the bloodiest battlefields in the Sahel conflict, where the government has little control. “We are at the mercy of bandits and militiamen,” shouts in despair Barthélémy Ouédraogo, a farmer who lives in the red zone – an area considered highly dangerous where the authorities allow access only to the military.
“The problem is that we don’t even feel protected by those who should defend us. The French army and military soldiers who were once stationed in these parts have left the field to Russian mercenaries called to cleanse the area of ​​jihadists. But we civilians are often the ones who end up in the crosshairs of their weapons. We live in terror at the mercy of those who forcefully impose their law.”

Those who pay the highest price for the situation of instability and political uncertainty in the region are the communities. File swm

Security has certainly not improved with the coup d’état of July 26 that removed President Mohamed Bazoum and installed a military junta in power (as already happened in Guinea, Burkina Faso and Mali). For months, al-Qaeda groups have been exploiting the situation of instability and political uncertainty in the region to launch attacks on military bases, villages and gold and uranium mines.
Those who pay the highest price are the communities in the Nigerien area of ​​the so-called “Triple Frontier” (the Liptako-Gourma area) at the intersection of Mali, Burkina Faso and Niger: the ones most affected by the jihadist insurgency.
But Niger, despite the environmental alarms and the instability of the regions it passes through, maintains its charm unchanged. You travel at the slow pace of the pinnaces, with their sails made of cement bags sewn together. Enormous patches that intercept the tired breezes of the river, to push people and goods. On the banks, villages made of earth houses and straw domes seem to parade slowly by. The herds of nomadic shepherds are part of the landscape, as are the small pirogues of fishermen looking for a good place to cast their nets. It is that unchanged landscape that inspired Ali Farka Touré, the king of the Sahel blues, a Malian guitarist and singer who died in 2006, whose vibrant music was born on the banks of the Niger and drew strength from its waters. (Open Photo: File swm)

Amaury Hauchard and Pierre Yambuya/Africa

Herbs & Plants. Flueggea virosa. A wide range of healing virtues.

The plant is a cornerstone in traditional medicine across tropical Africa, revered for its myriad therapeutic properties. It is well integrated into the fabric of human life, healing, preserving cultural heritage and maintaining ecological harmony.

 Flueggea virosa, known for its dioecious nature, presents itself as a multi-stemmed shrub or occasionally as a spreading tree, reaching heights of 2-3 metres, sometimes up to 4 metres. Its distinctive reddish-brown to brown bark serves as a recognizable feature in its habitat. The foliage of this shrub is adorned with lush green leaves densely packed along the branches. The plant produces delicate, creamy green flowers, a characteristic feature of the species. These flowers, though small, play a crucial role in the plant’s reproductive cycle.

Flueggea virosa is a cornerstone of traditional medicine throughout tropical Africa. CC BY-SA 2.0/Ton Rulkens

Prized by humans and wildlife alike, the fruit has a delicious sweetness with a hint of bitterness, making it particularly popular with children.
Flueggea virosa is a cornerstone of traditional medicine throughout tropical Africa, revered for its myriad therapeutic properties woven into the fabric of indigenous healing practices. Every part of this versatile plant, from its roots to its fruits, is important in treating a wide range of ailments, with the root emerging as the quintessential reservoir of medicinal potency. The roots and fruits are prized for their purported efficacy in treating snakebites.
The roots are also used in many African communities as a contraceptive and as a remedy for a range of ailments including syphilis, gonorrhea, rheumatism and skin conditions such as rashes. An infusion made from the roots is also used as a palliative for malaria.

Flueggea virosa is prized for its therapeutic properties. CC BY-SA 2.0/ Bernard Dupont

The bark of Flueggea virosa is also prized for its therapeutic properties, believed to contain cures for common ailments such as diarrhea and pneumonia. The myriad contributions of Flueggea virosa, from its succulent fruits to its medicinal virtues, underscore its profound importance within ecosystems and human societies alike.
The root, revered as the pinnacle of pharmacological activity within the plant, embodies a wide range of healing virtues, from analgesic and astringent to ophthalmic and sedative properties. In addition, the root serves as a lynchpin in the treatment of a wide range of ailments, including liver, bile, kidney and urinary disorders, as well as providing relief from urinary and genital disorders, diuresis, kidney stones and schistosomiasis.
In addition, its effectiveness extends to alleviating rheumatism, venereal diseases, orchitis, dysmenorrhoea, frigidity and sterility, encapsulating a holistic approach to wellness.
The therapeutic repertoire of the root extends beyond internal medicine to external applications. Root decoctions or powders, whether taken orally or used in baths, show remarkable efficacy in relieving testicular inflammation, headaches, back pain, hernias, wounds, boils, ulcers, skin conditions and even candidiasis. In addition, when combined with fat, the root pulp makes a soothing ointment, underlining its versatility in topical applications.

The leaves and fruits of Flueggea virosa also significantly contribute to the pharmacopoeia of traditional medicine. CC BY-SA 2.0/Forest & Kim Starr

The leaves and fruits of Flueggea virosa also make a significant contribution to the pharmacopoeia of traditional medicine. The leaves, praised for their aphrodisiac and laxative properties, are used to treat fever, venereal diseases and constipation. Leaf macerations used in baths or massages invigorate the body, combat fatigue and relieve stiffness. Leaf decoctions are also an effective antidote to fever and are used for wound healing and in the treatment of epilepsy.
The fruits, though smaller in size, are no less important, offering relief from digestive disorders when eaten. They also hold a special place in women’s health, as it is believed that eating them promotes fertility.
Beyond its medicinal properties, Flueggea virosa permeates many facets of daily life and cultural practices.
The plant’s leaves produce a black dye that is used to dye palm fibres, while the fruits provide a red dye that is used to make ink. The bark is also used for tanning and as fodder for livestock.

Flueggea virosa is remarkably versatile beyond its medicinal uses. CC BY-SA 2.0/ Forest & Kim Starr

The fruits become a popular delicacy, enjoyed for their juicy sweetness with a hint of bitterness. Often eaten by children, these fruits also find their way into alcoholic beverages, enriching cultural traditions with their flavour.Flueggea virosa is remarkably versatile beyond its medicinal uses. Its twigs are used as natural toothbrushes, while its bark, rich in tannins, is used as a dye for matting and palm fibres. However, the black dye from the leaves is considered to be of low quality due to its irregular colouring. Fruit crushing extracts a red dye used in ink production. Wood ash cleans milk containers, while stem gum seals envelopes.
Crushed leaves act as insect repellent. The sturdy virgate trunks are made into a variety of implements, including beds, fishing poles and walking sticks. The reddish-yellow wood, though usually small, is tough and suitable for making chair legs, kitchen utensils and hut poles. It is also valued as a fuel and is used to make charcoal.
In conclusion, Flueggea virosa embodies resilience and adaptability, seamlessly integrating into the fabric of human life by healing, preserving cultural heritage and maintaining ecological harmony. (Photo:CC BY-SA 2.0/Ton Rulkens)

Richard Komakech

 

South Sudan. Bishop Carlassare. “We can be pilgrims of hope from wherever you are”.

Bishop Christian Carlassare of Bentiu in South Sudan shares four ways to get involved in the Jubilee from wherever you are.

 Pilgrimage is a journey – The first keyword about the Jubilee Year is a pilgrimage. Pilgrimage is a journey. Not merely a physical journey, but most of all a spiritual journey to encounter the Lord. Many people travel but it doesn’t mean that they are on pilgrimage.
The first way to be a pilgrim, therefore, is prayer, and especially contemplation. That means being able to see God who is everywhere and to listen to His message in the life events that we experience.
We can be in our homes yet set off on a journey because we are journeying with the Lord and with the signs of times and the call that the Lord has for each one of us.

“Protecting the dignity of life in all its stages”. File swm

Protect the dignity of life in all its stages – The second keyword that is specific to the Catholic Church’s 2025 Jubilee Year is hope. Hope is a theological virtue. It is a gift from God. But it is also an attitude we must learn to practice by strengthening our faith and love because hope is rooted in faith, and is nurtured in love.
We belong to God, and we are part of a greater plan of salvation. How do we look at the world? Sometimes we may live without aim, without hope. We also may be afraid and confused but hope tells us that we should not be afraid to live our vocations wherever we are.
The second way to be a pilgrim of hope is to offer our unique contribution to the world. We can do this when we answer to the call of God. When we are deeply the person we have been created to be with our specific gifts, with our values, with our dreams and desires, and when we are not afraid to express ourselves.
Also, when we are going against the grain of a society that dehumanizes people; a society that would not recognize the dignity and the gifts of the very person. The second way to be part of this pilgrimage, therefore, is by living our vocations and protecting the dignity of life in all its stages.Every life is unique, and nobody can perform in place of the other what hasn’t been designed for them to do.
This Jubilee is a time of renewal for each person, a time for personal conversion for each person, and a time of personal ‘Yes’ to the Lord and to the situations in which we are living.

“When we experience the merciful love of God, then our lives are changed”. File swm

Mending broken relationships – The third keyword that we must explain is the Holy Door. We know that the Holy Father has opened the Holy Door at St. Peter’s Cathedral, and later on in the other Basilicas.The Holy Door represents a passage that allows us to enter the Church from the towns and villages where we live. This represents a passage to new life, a passage to the life of faith, the life of the Christian community.
The third way to be a pilgrim of hope, therefore, is conversion which is experienced in the Sacrament of Reconciliation. During this year, therefore, we can approach this Sacrament and live it deeply as a time of personal conversion. When we experience the merciful love of God, then our lives are changed. We reconcile with God, we reconcile also with ourselves, with who we are, with our past mistakes, and we look at the future with new hope. But we also reconcile with our brothers and sisters, especially those with whom we have broken relationships, or relationships that
still need healing.

“We must move forward together as a community”. File swm

Community activities… Make the environment more liveable – The fourth keyword is community. Every pilgrimage is communitarian. I never heard of pilgrimages where a single person did it. It is usually a movement of a group of people united by faith. A communitarian pilgrimage urges us to rediscover the community, and the beauty of journeying together; the community where we live.
Thus, the fourth way to be a pilgrim of hope is to commit ourselves to our local communities so that we don’t journey alone. We must advance together with the communitarian commitment. This is important in our parishes, in our chapels, in our small Christian communities, and our neighbourhoods.
We can also consider our commitment to the integrity of creation. In a society that is experiencing environmental degradation, we should improve our surroundings and make them more livable. (Open Photo: File swm)

 

Colombia. The Wayúu. The spider taught them how to weave.

In the northern tip of Colombia and Venezuela, an indigenous ethnic group has survived, proud of its artisanal tradition. From one stitch to another, this is the textile culture of the desert.

According to the myths and traditions of the women of the Wayúu community, settled in the Colombian department of La Guajira, on the border with Venezuela, it was the walker (the spider) who taught them to weave. It is an ancestral craft whose knowledge is closely linked to the initiation rites that adolescent girls of this indigenous ethnic group must perform to become women.
In the “confinement” ritual, to which all Wayúu girls adhere for months – and in some cases years – and which begins with the arrival of their first menstruation, they learn from their mothers, grandmothers and maternal aunts, the values of their culture and the tasks necessary for maintaining the home. Among these, the most important is undoubtedly the art of weaving.

A young Wayúu woman wears her colourful clothes. CC BY-SA 4.0/Neima Paz

The technique and designs with colourful geometric figures, characteristic of this traditional manual weaving, manifest Wayúu art that is passed down, from generation to generation, in this community with a matriarchal structure. Once they have learned the artistic craft and the principles and norms of their society, the young Wayúu women emerge as majayut (young ladies), ready to face adult life in their rancherias. These are located around the most important urban centres of the department of
La Guajira, such as Riohacha, Uribia, Barrancas, Nazareth, Maicao,
Manaure and Bahía Portete.
In their colourful kanás (drawings), the Wayúu textiles, made with needle and thread, represent what these indigenous people experience in their daily lives and elements of their natural environment: the universe, flowers, animals and, of course, their thoughts.

Wayúu bags. CCC BY-SA 2.0/Tanenhaus

The more complex and elaborate the figures, the more valuable the artisanal piece becomes. The Wayúu women make hand hammocks, backpacks, mats, and sandals. Chinchorro fabrics and the hammock are the most representative of this culture.
And although these pieces fulfil the same function, at a textile level they present marked differences: the first is elastic and loosely woven, and the second is heavy and compact, made of palletised fabric. But, without a doubt, backpacks – called susu in the Wayúu language – are today the most appreciated Wayúu product in the national and international market. They are crocheted or knitted in cotton or maguey fibre.
A single indigenous craftsman makes each backpack with their design and its fabric is circular and compact; it can take 20 to 30 days
to finish a backpack.

Wayúu women are dedicated to weaving as a traditional and commercial activity /CC BY-SA 4.0/galakuasth

Wayúu blankets, the traditional dress of Wayúu women, also enjoy increasing success. They are made with light fabrics such as cotton, silk, or printed terlenka. The traditional blanket is square or rectangular in shape, has an oval neck, and has a cord sewn from the inside on the front that holds it at the waist; this cord is knotted at the back, where the fabric is completely free. (Photo: CC BY-SA 4.0/AteneaSGP)

Pedro Santacruz

Witnesses of Jubilee. Fr. Stan Swamy. “Pay the price” for justice.

The life of Fr. Stan is a testimony to the defence of the human rights of underprivileged peasants in India. His sentence and subsequent death in prison raised an outcry all over the world, but his inspiring witness to righteousness keeps the flame of justice alive.

He was 84 years old. He had Parkinson’s disease, back pain, and impaired hearing. He had been in Taloja Central Jail on the outskirts of the Indian city of Mumbai on false charges for nine months. While in jail, Fr. Stan Swamy had a fall and then contracted COVID.Just a few days before his death on July 5, 2021, Fr. Stan had written to India’s National Investigation Authorities saying that he was willing to “pay the price.” He certainly paid it, and that price was high.The authorities refused him bail because there was no “conclusive proof of his ailments.” By the time he was admitted to the Holy Family Hospital in Mumbai, it was too late for any compassion from the State. The world was shocked.

Stan Swamy, S.J., pictured in a screenshot from a video. He died on July 5 2021, from complications related to Covid-19.

Fr. Stan had been arrested on October 8, 2020, along with 15 others, all intellectuals and social activists, charged with promoting violence. The Bar Association of India, a voluntary body which represents almost its entire legal profession, accused the State of “lacking in compassion and inhumane approach” by imposing pre-trial detention on a respected person of advanced age, weak health and fragile constitution. Prominent social leaders wrote to the civil authorities expressing “deep anguish” at the foisting of false accusations against innocent persons.
Fr. Stan, an Indian Jesuit had spent his final months acting as a beacon of light to his fellow prisoners. They say he brought cheer and joy, courtesy and optimism to this group of falsely accused campaigners.
His moral thinking, love for humanity and long-term vision of human realities inspired those heartbroken individuals to whom unfair punishment had been meted out. He wanted to make people experience God’s love concretely amid harsh situations.
The example he left behind will not be forgotten and his ideals will surely be discussed in institutions dedicated to human welfare and intellectual circles of social commitment.

Jesuit Conference of Asia Pacific call for the immediate release of Fr. Stan. Courtesy: Jesuit Global website

Fr. Stan Swamy was born Stanislaus Lourdswamy, in Trichy in the Indian state of Tamilnadu on 26 April 1937. He enrolled himself at St. Joseph’s School run by the Jesuits, and a little later joined them in their life of dedicated service.He was eager to serve the poor and the needy in their greatest hardship. His post was to be in the northern state of Jharkhand, an area of deprived and under-developed indigenous tribal communities.At Chaibasa, a mining hub, Fr. Stan and his students would discuss the happenings in their neighbourhood with the villagers. He would discuss and try to evaluate situations of unfairness and explore ways of being helpful in society in a constructive way. He visited homes and sought to learn more about the cultures and values of the smaller tribes such as the Munda’s or Ho’s. He knew well that missionaries become effective in their service only with a deep understanding of the tribal character of the community they work with. He understood that cultural immersion is central to apostolic fruitfulness.
The next stage of his formation was in Manila in the Philippines, where he studied theology, giving attention to sociological themes. He quickly recognised that Indigenous communities right around the world were being taken advantage of by more advanced societies. He realized that indigenous communities are vessels of inestimable wisdom, particularly in their relationship with nature and among fellow human beings.

India. A poor family. Fr. Stan identified himself with people’s sufferings. Shutterstock/3 Travelers

Back on the sub-continent, Fr. Stan stayed at Badaibir, learning from village life, before going to Louvain in Belgium to continue his reflection at a theoretical level. In time he returned to the painful realities of village life in India.In 2006, he opened a centre at Bagicha, Ranchi, in Jharkhand to give support to social activists. Unfair displacement was his central concern. “Defend your land rights,” was the call. The people were “like sheep without a shepherd” and Fr. Stan became the shepherd, a truly motivating force. The indigenous communities looked to him for inspiration and guidance, and he emerged as an icon inspiring self-confidence in those who were too timid to assert their rights over their heritage. However, when people began erecting the traditional stone that affirmed their right over their land, the civil authorities began to arrest activists behind the movement.
Fr. Stan Swamy identified himself with people’s sufferings. He joined hands with men and women of all faiths and persuasions as long as they were genuinely committed to humanity.
There was no streak of violence in his character, only the love of humanity. He claimed to belong to a universal society.
Soon the authorities saw that his presence was a mighty force providing light and energy to the movement that he had set in motion. The powerful corporates, greedy for this mineral-rich land, wanted him moved out of the tribal belt–and so, he was arrested, with the authorities inexplicably associating Fr. Stan with the Bhima-Koregaon conspiracy case in another part of India. Why were those in power afraid of Fr. Stan? He had become a beacon for those struggling for justice, a role model for young people across the nation. All tribal rights activists looked up to him, so the state wanted to make an example of him. They wanted him out of the way. He identified himself with people’s sufferings. He joined hands with people of all faiths and persuasions as long they were genuinely committed to humanity.

People protesting after the death of Father Stan Swamy. Photo: TNIE

When he became ill in prison, he refused to go to a state hospital where the reports could be manipulated. By the time he was finally admitted into a Catholic hospital, COVID-19 had taken its toll. The end came even sooner than expected.
Fr. Stan had the habit of invoking silence from time to time in honour of the martyrs who had given up their lives for the cause of the deprived. The world paused in his honour briefly struck dumb by the insensitivity of those responsible for his tragic end.
Fr. Stan was certainly no silent spectator and paid a high price. He has not been silenced because his inspiration and his work live on. Others will continue defending the marginalized and vulnerable people, speaking out against atrocities and the violation of human rights. He networked with others who continue supporting many initiatives for the development of Jharkhand. He made sure that there were many trained to galvanize the struggle against the brutal dispossession of land.
In his quiet, well-mannered, gentle way, Fr. Stan wanted the people he so much cared about to have the right to a dignified life.

Thomas Menamparampil,
Archbishop emeritus of Guwahati, India

Carlo Acutis. “God’s influencer”.

The life of Carlo Acutis, short and intense, has been an inspiration to many people around the world. He will be canonized on 27 April.

“I am happy to die because I’ve lived my life without wasting even a minute of it doing things that wouldn’t have pleased God”.  A few days later, on 12 October 2006, he died at the age of 15 from leukaemia. Many young people remembered him for his cheerfulness, computer skills, and deep devotion to the Eucharist, which became the core of his life. Carlo was born in London on 3 May 1991, the son of Andrea Acutis and Antonia Salzano. He was baptized on 18 May 1991 at Our Lady of Dolours Church, Chelsea.  The parents had worked in London and Germany before Acutis was born. In September of that year, the family returned to their native Italy, where they lived in Milan.

Many friends from his school days remember him as a bright, happy and generous child. Courtesy: carloacutis.com

When Carlo was four years old, his maternal grandfather, Antonio Salzano, died. A few days before his death, Carlo was present when his grandfather received the anointing of the sick. It is said that the grandfather appeared to him in a dream and asked to be prayed for. Shortly after the grandfather’s death, while his grandmother was taking care of him, Carlo put on his coat and asked to be taken to church. When she asked him why, Carlo said he wanted to pray for his grandfather, who, the child explained, “had gone to see Jesus.” When Carlo showed an interest in Catholic religious practice, his questions were answered by the family’s Polish babysitter.
At the age of seven, Carlo received his First Communion at the convent of Sant’Ambrogio ad Nemus, Milan. He was a frequent communicant, and often attended Eucharistic Adoration. Once he said: “The more Eucharist we receive, the more we become like Jesus, so that on this earth we will have a foretaste of heaven”.  He was confirmed on 24 May 2003 at Santa Maria Segreta Church.
A typical teen in many ways, he grew up in what most would consider an ordinary family: his parents worked, he went to school, he played sport and he loved watching films and playing video games.

“The more Eucharist we receive, the more we become like Jesus, so that on this earth we will have a foretaste of heaven”. Courtesy: carloacutis.com

After school he volunteered his time with the city’s homeless and destitute, often using his own pocket money to buy sleeping bags for those sleeping rough. Many friends from his schooldays remember him as a bright, happy and generous child.
Carlo was growing up in a society experiencing an explosion of the Internet and the rise of social media sites, which radically changed the way young people accessed information and communicated with one another. Carlo saw this as a perfect platform to draw attention to faith and the Eucharist. He was skilled in the English language and had a natural aptitude for science and technology. Soon he learnt how to use the latest programmes for building websites, making films and networking with people on the other side of the world.
For Carlo, the Internet was “a space for dialogue, for getting to know others, for sharing and for mutual respect”. He encouraged the use of mass media as a means to serve the Gospel, to reach as many people as possible and to show them the beauty of friendship with the Lord. To this end, he undertook to organize an exhibition of the most important Eucharistic miracles that have occurred in the world.

He encouraged the use of mass media as a means to serve the Gospel. Courtesy: carloacutis.com

Carlo meticulously researched “about 136 eucharistic miracles that occurred over the centuries in different countries around the world, and have been acknowledged by the Church” and created a collection of virtual panels with text and photographs recounting each event in an online museum. Besides creating a website to house this virtual museum, he helped create panel presentations that have been exhibited around the world. He was convinced that this online museum of miracles, now translated into a dozen different languages, would attract young people back to the Church.
But, on 12 October 2006 his immune system collapsed. He developed leukaemia, the blood cancer that led to his painful death.

On the road to sainthood
Not long after his death, the first reports of miracles attributed to Carlo’s intercession were recorded. His friends shared stories and personal memories through documentaries and websites. In July 2018, Pope Francis declared him ‘venerable’, putting Carlo on the path to sainthood.
The first miracle recognised by the Vatican’s Medical Council of the Congregation for the Causes of Saints occurred in Brazil, where a mother, through her Internet searches, learned of him and requested the intercession of Carlos Acutis on behalf of her ill son Mattheus.

Santa Maria Maggiore, Assis, Acutis’s burial place. He developed leukaemia, the blood cancer that led to his painful death. CC BY-SA 4.0/Sottobosco90

Mattheus suffered from a severe pancreatic condition that made eating difficult. His mother, Luciana Vianna, asked Carlo to intercede and then took Mattheus to a prayer service.  When they went home, Mattheus was able to eat. His condition was cured. The miracle led to the Carlos’s beatification, which took place in October 2020.
On 23 May 2023, the Vatican recognised another miracle attributed to Blessed Carlo Acutis. This miracle concerned a woman from Costa Rica. On 8 July 2022, Liliana prayed at Blessed Carlo’s tomb in Assisi, leaving a letter that described her plea. Just six days previously, on 2 July, her daughter Valeria had fallen from her bicycle in Florence, where she had been attending university.

Carlo researched about 136 Eucharistic miracles that have occurred over the centuries in various countries around the world. Courtesy: carloacutis.com

She had sustained severe head trauma and required craniotomy surgery and the removal of the right occipital bone to alleviate pressure on her brain, with doctors indicating a very low chance of survival.
Liliana began praying immediately to Blessed Carlo Acutis, and on 8 July, Liliana made a pilgrimage to his tomb in Assis. That same day, the hospital informed her that Valeria had begun to breathe spontaneously. The next day, she began to move and partially regain her speech.
On 18 July, a CAT scan proved that her haemorrhaging had disappeared, and on 11 August Valeria was moved to rehabilitation therapy. She made quick progress, and on 2 September Valeria and Liliana made another pilgrimage to Assisi to thank Blessed Carlo for his intercession. On 27 April of this year, Carlo will be canonized in St. Peter Square, in Rome. (Open Photo: Courtesy: carloacutis.com)

Philip Chiba

 

 

 

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