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The Danger of a Nuclear Nightmare.

The development of nuclear technology to power electricity generation was hailed as a triumph of modern technology.

We can never forget and not be on our guard from the history that nuclear power was first used in the atom bomb that wiped out two Asian cities in World War II. The horrific death of almost a million people in Hiroshima and Nagasaki made the world realize that nuclear war is one that no one can win. It gave rise to the MAD doctrine that a nuclear war would be a war of “Mutual Assured Destruction” that would result from an exchange of nuclear missiles with nuclear warheads. The bombing of Japan by the United States immediately brought about the capitulation and unconditional surrender of Japan.

President Vladimir Putin of Russia is making a similar threat to Europe over Ukraine. What’s his game plan to threaten Europe to get Ukraine to surrender, lift sanctions and stop supplying arms to the Ukraine military?

Russian troops are occupying the Ukrainian Zaporizhzhia nuclear power plant in Europe and shelling the areas close to it and blaming Ukraine. It’s absurd that Ukraine would destroy its own nuclear power plants and contaminate Europe. Russian shelling even knocked out the power line that fed electricity to the plant to maintain its cooling system.

The backup generators kicked in just in time to prevent a very dangerous situation. If the cooling fails in a nuclear power plant, it explodes. Nothing can stop it. The International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) last month arrived at the plant recently and made a safety inspection, it is hoped that this UN agency has the influence to bring about the demilitarization of the plant.

Nuclear power plants are very dangerous and it takes 100 thousand years for the dangerous cancer-causing radiated waste material to decompose. Human error, conflict, terrorist attacks is what causes disasters. Enemies could capture one plant and hold the nation
to ransom.

This is a reminder that humans can do the most horrific acts of destruction without respect for human life. That is the extremist thinking, or non-thinking, of Vladimir Putin. His forces cannot defeat Ukraine so he has unleashed the most horrific shelling, bomb and missile strikes at civilian targets all over Ukraine. He has no respect for human life and the human suffering it is causing. He is a leader with great power and no empathy.

Such a human is a very dangerous one and threatening to unleash nuclear radiation in desperation for him to win the war by shelling the Zaporizhzhia Nuclear Power Plant bit by bit until he achieves surrender is madness.  He would be like a petulant child holding the dinner plates and smashing them one by one until he gets what he wants. It would be like what happened at Chernobyl, a cloud of deadly destructive radiation could blow across Europe.

When power stations fail, they can bring widespread death and destruction and nuclear radiation that goes on killing people and animals for decades. The Chernobyl Nuclear Plant that exploded when the cooling failed has left a vast area uninhabitable. The power plant in Japan also exploded due to a tsunami. All nuclear plants are susceptible to catastrophic damage from natural causes such as earthquakes, typhoons and human terrorism.

The threat of a limited nuclear strike by Russia in Ukraine is real. There is greatly increased tension between Russia and the five nuclear nations US, China, Russia, the UK and France. The UN’s five permanent members of the Security Council said clearly in 2021 that “nuclear war cannot be won and must never be fought” and yet they are all upgrading their nuclear weapons stockpiles, which reached a total of 13,000 worldwide.

That is down from about 236,000 during the Cold War. Thanks to a treaty that all agreed to reduce the number. The Federation of American Scientists estimates the UK alone has 190 nuclear warheads of which 120 are ready to fire at any time. Imagine that, they are all at ready for MAD, primed to unleash a nuclear war.

That treaty was due for renewal at last month’s UN meeting in New York at the UN Security Council but after years of negotiation, Russia blocked the final document of the critical and urgent treaty because it mentioned the danger of the Russian troops occupying and the shelling of areas around the Ukraine Zaporizhzhya Power Plant. Australian Foreign Minister Penny Wong said she was “deeply disappointed” at the lack of agreement. “Russia obstructed progress by refusing to compromise on a proposed text accepted by all other states,” she said.

Not only does Putin threaten Europe by shelling around the Ukrainian Zaporizhzhia Nuclear Power Plant as we write but he has spoken of a possible nuclear strike “if provoked.” In response to this, UN Secretary-General Guterres spoke out. “Following Russia’s unprovoked and unlawful war of aggression against Ukraine, we call on Russia to cease its irresponsible and dangerous nuclear rhetoric and behavior,” he said.

President Vladimir Putin insisted that Russia remained faithful to the treaty’s “letter and spirit” and that there could be “no winners” in a nuclear war, according to the Kremlin. Guterres said at the 10th review conference of the Non-Proliferation Treaty, an international treaty since 1970 that is designed to prevent the spread of nuclear weapons: “Today, humanity is just one misunderstanding, one miscalculation away from nuclear annihilation.”

“We have been extraordinarily lucky so far. But luck is not a strategy. Nor is it a shield from geopolitical tensions boiling over into nuclear conflict,” he added. He challenged all nations to wake up and “put humanity on a new path towards a world free of nuclear weapons.” “Eliminating nuclear weapons is the only guarantee they will never be used,” he said.

Most people live in ignorance of the terrible dangers that the powerful and intellectual humans have wrought in the world. We don’t know what nuclear radiation can do to life on earth, it can eliminate it. A nuclear war would cause a nuclear winter, the resulting black clouds would block the sun for months or years and all life would die. That’s just how bad it is.

We have to work for sanity, peace, rational dialogue and reach a consensus of nations to live with mutual respect for all life and especially human life on planet Earth and not Mutual Assured Destruction. (Photo 123rf.com)

Fr. Shay Cullen – Philippines

 

 

Mission. Walking Together.

October Is Missionary Month. Three Young Comboni Missionaries Share their Vocation Journey

My name is Brother Alberto Lamana. I was born in 1971 in Zaragoza, Spain.  I came to know the Comboni Missionaries during my secondary school education. The Comboni community of Zaragoza had started a youth group. I joined the group.
The group became a springboard for my vocation discernment. Little by little I began to imagine my life as a missionary.

Meantime, I had to choose between becoming a priest or a brother. The Comboni missionaries offer their candidates these two possibilities.  Thus, after much prayer and consultation with the vocation promoter, I felt that my call was to be a Brother.
The service of the brothers that emphasises human promotion and social ministry attracted me.  Consequently, in 1994, I decided to enter the Comboni postulancy as a brother.

Later, in the novitiate, when I read the writings of St. Daniel Comboni, the founder of the Comboni missionaries, I confirmed the same reality.  I was impressed by Comboni’s courage and absolute dedication to a cause radically founded on the Gospel. I see my vocation as a dynamic process that is cultivated day by day.  It is a gift that develops and grows. Throughout my missionary life, I have had important experiences that have helped me to reinforce or live my vocation.

In 1997, during my time at the Formation House for Brothers in Nairobi, I did apostolate with the St. Vincent de Paul group in the slum of Kibera. Frequent visits to the most disadvantaged people in that marginalised context made me discover the harsh dimension of poverty: women, men and children struggling to survive and to get by on so little money! Their witness of faith and inner strength was for me a real school of life.

After completing my formation journey in Nairobi, I was assigned to the mission of Mapuordit in South Sudan. There I had to enter a new culture and language. Initially, the adaptation process was difficult. But I soon felt fully welcomed and accepted. That experience taught me to walk more slowly, at the pace of the people, accepting so many limits that are imposed on us and that we cannot control. This helped me to grow in an attitude of surrender knowing that not everything is in our hands, but that the Lord continues to realise his Kingdom despite our difficulty in seeing the seeds of life.

In South Sudan, I also had the grace to collaborate with other Comboni Missionaries and Comboni sisters, in the establishment of the Catholic Radio Network (CRN).
This was an initiative aimed at creating a network of radio stations in each of the dioceses of South Sudan and the Nuba Mountains.

My missionary life and work took a twist in 2015.  I was elected General Assistant in our Institute. The Institute was asking me to be part of the General Council of our Congregation in Rome. It was a new phase of missionary service for me.

When I look back over my life, I realise how my vocation has evolved. I see that at the beginning I felt a deep desire to be useful, to serve, to help others. Over time I have discovered my vulnerability and weakness. This makes me feel more in communion with the disadvantaged, growing in mercy, aware that they are sisters and brothers who invite me to walk with them. I feel more and more the need to grow in the ability to read the reality around me with the eyes of faith and not so much with my own reasoning. God continues to mould me and to strengthen my vocation so as to follow him more closely.

Simon. “My dream is to share the word of God”
I am Simon Yomkuey. I was born in 1988 in Mayom County, South Sudan. In 1993, I moved to Khartoum with my brother.
We had a house in the area of Omdurman and I attended the Comboni primary school in Bahry.

During secondary school, I started showing more interest in the Comboni Missionaries. When I finished school, a diocesan with whom I used to share my queries, advised me to continue studying.  So, I proceeded to the School of Management in the Department of accounting and finance. In 2011, the independence referendum of South Sudan was celebrated, and the university was transferred to its original place, Juba. I moved there where I graduated in 2013.

When I was in Juba, I met a Comboni Missionary and I told him that I was interested in meeting the Combonis. He invited me to a one-year programme called ‘come and see’, during which we used to meet many aspirants, boys and girls, every last Saturday of the month. They would explain to us about vocations, providing booklets on the life of Comboni, and other material.

After a year, in 2014, I was admitted to the six-month pre-postulancy, followed by an experience in a parish. Then, I moved to Nairobi for the postulancy, where I did a three-year philosophical course, followed by a two-year novitiate in Namugongo, Uganda. I professed my first religious vows, on 23 May 2020.

After the novitiate, I was assigned to the scholasticate of Pietermaritzburg, in South Africa. I could not visit my family—I had not seen them since 2018—because South Sudan was under Covid lockdown. While waiting, I took the opportunity to stay in the Comboni community concerned with assisting the South Sudanese displaced in Uganda. When the borders eventually opened, I returned to Juba and, before South Africa could close them again, I entered the country.

Why did I decide to become a Comboni?  A vocation is a mystery. I really admire some priests whom I have encountered. When I was at university, I had a strange feeling, as if I was forgetting something, or something was missing in me, though I couldn’t name it. I used to prepare my schoolbooks, clothes and shoes for the following day, yet my mind kept telling me that something was missing.

When the idea of joining the Comboni Missionaries came, suddenly, that strange feeling disappeared.  What inspired me, from the few Comboni’s whom I knew in my parish, was their simplicity and kindness, their sense of belonging and especially their way of welcoming people, listening, and trusting them. No one considered himself greater than the others; there was an element of equality. I also learned from their sacrifices. All this motivated me to join them.

My dream is to share the Word of God with those who have not heard it. It can be done physically, or through the mass media. Technology allows us to reach far beyond our surroundings. My aim is to reach those who are abandoned and disowned.

Brother Mwangaza : “My trust in God has no limits”
My name is Mwangaza Kabale, I was born in 1985, in the town of Butembo, in the eastern part of the DR Congo.  With my parents, we led a quiet life. As a young boy, I joined the youth group of the Eucharistic Crusade. I am sure that it was from this experience of a life of faith that the desire to serve God as a priest or a religious was born in me very early on. My school life went smoothly. After primary school at Vutetse Primary School, I attended secondary school in Butembo.

Meanwhile, the idea of becoming a priest had become increasingly clear. In 2006, at the end of secondary school, I spent some time in the vocational group of my parish to deepen my motivations. Eventually, I plucked up my courage and told my parents that I intended to enter the diocesan seminary. Surprisingly, they told me no. Not because they were against the idea, but because they wanted me to improve my knowledge.

“Attend at least three years of university courses. Then, you can decide what you want”, was their request. I obeyed and enrolled at the University of Agriculture in Butembo. When, in 2009, I presented them with my degree, they smiled at me and said: “We did what we thought was a duty for us and good thing for you. Now you are old enough to decide your own future. Go where your heart takes you”.

During university, I became friends with the Comboni Sisters working in my parish. They introduced me to priests and brothers of their own religious family, and I began to frequent and observe them, at first with curiosity, then with fascinated eyes and heart. It did not take me long to understand that this would be the life God wanted from me.

The desire to answer ‘yes’ to God was pushing me. Finally, in 2009, a few months after graduating, I entered the Comboni Postulancy in Kisangani. This step helped me to better discern my vocation, clarify my motivations and identify with the Comboni charism. After Postulancy, I was admitted to the Novitiate in Sarh, Chad. On 13th May 2012, in a ceremony that touched me deeply, I made my first religious profession and I became a member of the Comboni Institute.

Soon after, I was sent to Kinshasa (DR Congo) to complete my agronomic training with a master’s degree in Agroforestry. In 2015, I went to Nairobi, Kenya, to attend the Scholasticate at the Comboni Brothers’ Centre. After an English language course, I enthusiastically threw myself into the various courses to acquire a master’s degree in Sustainable Development. In Nairobi, I spent four unforgettable years.

In 2019, I was destined for the mission in South Sudan, in the diocese of Rumbek.  I find myself surprisingly willing to get close to people, especially young people, and to share their lives, their concerns, challenges, sufferings, joys and hopes. Living for them and of them is my life. And what a life!

I run three schools in the Rumbek diocese. Our vision for these schools is to turn them into financially and administratively self-sufficient institutions. Life here is certainly not rosy. I often find myself taking one step forward and two steps back.

But I am not discouraged. I know that there will still be difficulties, but this people will overcome them, and I feel over the moon when I think that I have the opportunity to make my personal contribution to this miracle. My trust in God has no limits. I firmly believe that he has the destiny of this people in his hands and that he will not let them down. (swm)

 

Africa. The World of the Albinos.

Fierce superstitions marginalize those who have inherited the lack of melanin and sometimes endanger their lives. Even if something is changing. Like in Ukerewe, a small island on Lake Victoria.

The ‘Tribe of Ghosts’. This is the name given to the albino people in Tanzania, the largest ‘black-white’ community in the world and one of the most persecuted. Often, it has become a valuable commodity for superstitious rich people, Africans and non-Africans, who believe that having bones or organs of these people brings money and luck. Or that the ashes of their bodies, mutilated and burned, can heal diseases. Or even those who think of curing AIDS with the rape of albino women.

There is no end to the horrors to which these human ghosts are subjected. But something is slowly changing. In 2013 a UN declaration condemned all these cruelties while a few years earlier, in 2010, an albino,
Salun Khalfani Barwani, was elected to the Tanzanian parliament and certainly influenced the choices made by President John Magufuli (who passed away in 2021), with the creation of local special teams to combat violence against the white people.
And so regional protection associations began to spring up supported by international ones which bring about a real improvement in the situation. Now, especially in the cities, you can see them, these whites of Africa with dreamy eyes, going out, working, mingling in the chaos of the great mother. With their dark glasses and exotic wide-brimmed hats.
Because it is not enough to have one’s fellow men as enemies, in these latitudes, there is also the sun which here is no joke even for those
who have melanin.

And so, Alfred Kapore, responsible for the Mwanza region for albinos (he, too, is an albino), explains that with this hereditary genetic disease – the lack of melanin leaves the skin unprotected: in Tanzania, one new-born baby out of 1400 is affected – it can become difficult to work, to move, especially in small villages, where there is poverty and often what is needed to protect oneself from the natural enemy is lacking. Creams, glasses and hats. Where even these basics are lacking, those who are ghosts must behave like one, isolating themselves from real life.
And thus, wicked beliefs are fed. Ghosts are said to be demons and expendable beings.

The island of Ukerewe
However, there is a place, an island, which for a long time has offered refuge to these persecuted people. Like a promised land, the island of Ukerewe, in the middle of the immense Lake Victoria, still welcomes Kapore and his family. And many like him.
We embark, with a nostalgic look at the elegant and dying Vittoria ship, heading for Ukerewe,Eden of the albinos.

The island is large and hosts, as Ramadan Alfani, president of the local black-whites tells us, 82 people with albinism. And it offers relative tranquillity in the shade of trees that all have a person who takes care of them, on land that is not abandoned and in front of waters full of fish. The small milk-coloured children show us the pride of being able to go to school, where they are welcomed with enthusiasm by their classmates, and then, from their poor houses, they fetch creams, glasses, and hats (gifts from Canadian NGOs).

Here families have managed to stick together with humble resources linked to fields and fishing and, thanks to oversight by the community, dangers are fewer. But even here we must take good care of the children as they come and go to school and when darkness falls. Fear is in the DNA of African albinos, inside and outside them. Day and night. An island elder explains why they are afraid. People cut off arms and legs, or the genitals, and leave the corpse behind. A mother tells how her son is laughed at and excluded. There is even the desecration of burials and the fear of kidnappings. But in Ukerewe, they tell us, acceptance and integration are better observed and for this reason, many live there and form families. And there is also a legal office and a hospital, both dedicated to the problems of ‘Zeruzeru’ (ghosts).
Of course, Alfred Kapore says that “if there was a cream that made them black, he would be delighted”.

Donatella Penati Murè
(Text & Photos)

Why Zebras have Striped Skins.

Long ago before people started taking any other animal apart from the dog, it was said that donkeys could also be tamed. This rumour was told by one man who went to the bush to hunt.

After killing the animal, he had hunted he found that it was very heavy for him to carry alone. So, he decided to find a way by which he could carry his prey. And as he was thinking, he saw a donkey pass nearby in the bush. All of a sudden, an idea came into his head. He thought that if he took his prey and put it on the back of the donkey, it would help him carry his load. So, he went after the donkey. He put the load on its back easily, for it did not attack him or run away.

He led the way until they reached his compound. After unloading heavy loads. Donkeys did not know what was going on up to this time. They came to understand only after most of their friends had been taken away. They started to hide deep in the bushes. But all was in vain! People had realised that donkeys were very useful animals.

So, they made special efforts to hunt them down, wherever donkeys could be found. This problem really worried the donkeys. Many of their kind had been captured.
The rumours they heard were horrifying. Rumour had it that those donkeys which had been captured were working too much and they were given only food enough to keep them going.

This was indeed frightening. The rest of the donkeys decided to act quickly, lest they become victims of circumstance like their unfortunate friends. They therefore held an impromptu meeting. Here they discussed what should be done about the whole problem. One donkey suggested that they should seek help from Hare since he was known to be cunning and clever. All agreed that Hare should be asked for advice.

The next morning the donkey representative went to see Hare, who was only too willing to help. Hare asked him to tell all his friends to come to his compound early the next morning. This they did, and when they arrived, they found Hare with whitewash in a huge can, ready to act. As the donkeys were not fast enough in thinking, they wondered how whitewash could have anything to do with their problem. Hare tried to explain but they seemed rather stubborn. Nobody was willing to be the first one to be experimented on.

Finally, one donkey volunteered and stepped forward. Immediately, Hare set to work. He started painting stripes of whitewash on the donkey’s skin. Soon the donkey had black-and-white stripes instead of being plain black or grey. As the first donkey was painted over, the other donkeys admired him.
They all started wishing they could look like their friend. The moment that followed was full of struggle and scrambling over who should reach the paint first. The warning from Hare that they should be careful went unheeded. Hence, the struggling and fighting continued.

It happened that after a number of donkeys had been painted, one donkey pushed to the front with such force that he stepped in the bucket that contained the whitewash. The whole bucket overturned pouring out all the paint. This was the end of everything. The remaining donkeys were helpless because they were the unfortunate ones.

Hare told them that he could not help them anymore because the fault had been theirs. And so, although the aggressive donkey was cursed for this bad act, nothing was done for their betterment, for the spilt paint could not be recovered. Hence, those donkeys that had been painted were safe from people’s reach.

They were the lucky ones and changed their name from donkeys to zebras. This name set them apart from the unfortunate donkeys who after this were all captured by men, and taken away to work for them. They were less fortunate and that is why they continue to be known
as donkeys.

Folktale from Luhya People in Kenya

African Union. Twenty Years Later.

The supranational institution has worked to prevent conflicts but has not achieved the expected results. The decisions taken by the assembly of heads of state rarely affect regional situations, also due to the inefficiency of the operational bodies and the lack of economic resources. The urgency of reforms.

The African Unity started in July 2002 in Durban, South Africa, came out in a very different political climate. Africa was experiencing a wave of democratization and was living its historic moment after the shock of the Rwandan genocide. The governments of some key states – first of all South Africa – were going through a moment of strong popular legitimacy and international support. Even Ghedaffi’s leadership seemed to represent a guarantee of stability and genuine Pan-Africanism (as well as ensuring an appropriate injection of petrodollars).

African heads of state gather for a group photograph. (Photo: AU)

The model of the European Union – which was also at a good point during those years, between enlargement and the advent of the single currency – seemed successful.
The conversion from the ‘old’ Organization of African Unity – OAU (1963-2001) – the standard bearer of decolonization – to the ‘new’ AU, the advocate of pacification, prosperity and integration, was to represent the definitive liberation from the colonial yoke, the advent of a more assertive Africa capable of integrating itself advantageously into the networks of the world economy and politics.

Contradictions
In the two decades that followed, the project did not produce the desired results, either internally or in the international sphere. However, efforts to promote peace and prevent conflicts, including those related to coups, have been considerable.

Chairperson of the African Union Commission, Moussa Faki Mahamat. (Photo: AU)

The AU Charter affirmed the principle of responsibility to protect and also envisaged – and sometimes implemented – sanctions against governments born from unconstitutional coups, proving to be more courageous than its reference model, the EU, whose weapons to be used against member states that violate the principles of democracy and the rule of law were notoriously cut back.
But even in this, the practice of the AU is not without contradictions. The fact is that the numerous declarations that the supreme body of the AU (the Assembly of Heads of State) adopts, rarely really affect the internal and regional status quo. One reason is the solid grip and influence some states and political leaders exert over their peers.
Ethiopia, Nigeria, South Africa, the African regional powers, hardly risk embarrassment in these summits and indeed have ample room to influence decisions and appointments.

Danger of immobility
But another reason is that the AU has given itself a big head that thinks and decides, the Assembly of heads of state; however, its other bodies, including those that should implement the strategic decisions of the summit, are plethoric, weak, and underfunded.
As for the Pan-African Parliament, in addition to being just a merely consultative body, it has proved inconclusive and contentious on several occasions. The inadequacy of the operational bodies, and the lack of economic, logistical or leadership resources, have led most of the time to immobility. In 2018, the then president of the organization, Paul Kagame had commissioned a group of experts to identify the shortcomings and lines of reform of the AU. The excessive power of the political bodies in the face of the weakness of the technical and independent bodies (principally the Commission) was in the first place among the distortions to be reformed, as well as the lack of its own financial resources.

Uncertain present
The idea of ​​providing the AU with its own budget (financed by a share of around 0.2% of the value of the extra-African imports of each state, for example) has been discreetly put aside.
Until a few years ago, more than half of the AU’s operating costs were borne by external donors (mainly the European Union).

Ordinary Session of the African Union, Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. (Photo: AU)

Today it seems that at least 70% of the Union budget is provided by the member states, but its monetary impact remains insufficient and prevents the initiation of adequate measures in the numerous sectors in which the AU intends to operate.
The AU undoubtedly has a great future. As with other international organizations – including the EU – its problem is the present. The problem being working through these years in which more or less credible actors compete for world or regional hegemony in ways that we thought were ‘consigned to history’. But to be up to the tasks that await it, it will have to set itself more ambitious goals and tighter deadlines. Otherwise, its lethargy will degrade into euthanasia.( Open Photo: 123rf.com)

Paul De Stefani

 

Peru. The Asheninka Minga.

The Asheninka, are an indigenous ethnic group that lives in the centre of the forest in the district of Ucayali in the province of Atalaya in the northern part of Peru. Minga: not only communal work but also small informal tasks for the family.

The term minga comes from the Quechua culture mink’a meaning ‘asking for help by promising something’. Mink’a is a type of traditional communal work (chuqu), in the Andean communities, for purposes of social utility and community infrastructure projects. Participants are traditionally paid in kind. Mink’a is still practiced in indigenous communities also for minor jobs to be carried out in a family: relatives and acquaintances gather for mutually accomplishing a task.
Once a family has decided to ask the help of relatives, acquaintances, or neighbours, to carry out a small job for the family, they start to prepare food and drinks for the people who will arrive to work for them. Seven days before the gathering, the men of the family go to fish in the river or to mitayar (hunt) in the mountains, meanwhile the women prepare masato (fermented yucca drink). Once everything is ready, the householder asks relatives, acquaintances, and neighbours for their help about one day before the job needs to be done.

On the day of the minga, the mingueros: men, women, young people and even elder children begin to arrive at around 6:30 in the morning bringing with them machetes, axes and other tools to carry out the work. For his part, the householder welcomes them offering masato, coca and cigarettes. At 7:00 AM, they all start to work. The men and older youth do the heaviest work such as cutting down trees, while women and children do lighter works such as cutting bushes or rooting out weeds. The householder supervises the work of the mingueros; he collaborates with them and offers them masato. His wife and other people stay at home preparing the midday meal.
After six hours of hard work, which is done in a relaxed and merry atmosphere, the householder offers the mingueros a lunch, which could consist of a succulent Creole chicken broth, or a roast of bush meat accompanied by masato. While everybody is enjoying the delicious food and the masato, the householder takes advantage of the lunch break to thank all those that have arrived for helping, and at the same time, he reaffirms that he is always willing to help anybody who might need his collaboration, and encourages his guests to take advantage of the moment to announce another minga event.

After lunch, a recreational activity is organized for young people, a soccer competition, or a chengarito or a penalito.
While some play games, others dance to the rhythm of the local music, and still others drink masato, the typical drink of the Amazon. The entertainment lasts until 6:00 PM.
Minga is an example of the fraternal work in the Asheninka culture. The people who gather to help a neighbour or a relative do it in an atmosphere of fraternity, and then at the end of the work, they celebrate life and friendship all together. A minga event is also an occasion to meet other people, exchange experiences and strengthen relationships in a constructive way. (123RF.com)

Jhonny Mancilla Pérez

Illegal logging in Africa and its security implications.

Illegal logging is a growing feature of transnational organized crime in Africa, often facilitated by the collusion of senior officials, with far-reaching security and environmental implications
for the countries affected.

African countries are estimated to lose $17 billion to illegal logging each year. This is part of a global market with an economic value of $30 to $150 billion. The net profit from the illegal charcoal trade alone in Africa is estimated to be as much as $9 billion, “compared to the [$]2.65 billion worth of street value heroin and cocaine in the region.”
High-value timber species are in immense global demand, with the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC) reporting that Africa’s share of rosewood exports to China rose from 40 percent in 2008 to 90 percent in 2018.

Illegal logging also amplifies the effects of climate change by worsening deforestation and reducing biodiversity. This is especially apparent in the Congo Basin and peatlands, comprising one of the world’s largest carbon sinks. If disturbed, it could release the equivalent of 20 years of U.S. fossil fuel emissions.

Timber trafficking has also fueled security threats from organized criminal groups and violent extremist organizations. Trafficking networks based in Tanzania and the Democratic Republic of the Congo linked to the Ahlu-Sunnah Wa-Jama and other militant groups in Mozambique, for example, were making an estimated $2 million per month from illegal logging in 2019.

Illegal logging also accelerates corruption. In the Republic of the Congo, national legislation limits the export of certain rare hardwoods to just 15 percent of a logging company’s annual production. However, collusion between political and business actors has led to the rule often being flouted. Not only does this cost Congolese citizens the benefits of their natural resource wealth, the degradation of the forest also deprives local communities of a sustainable source for their economic livelihoods.

Illegal logging is part of a vicious cycle of opaque governance, exploitation, and insecurity that privileges the profit-seeking of select state officials and foreign actors. These patterns reduce the legitimacy of the government overall, further contributing to instability and violence.

Illegal logging is most prevalent in the tropical rainforests of Africa, where demand by foreign actors for rare hardwoods has dramatically increased. The most significant driver of illegal logging in Africa is the Chinese market for teak, redwood, and mahogany. China’s trade with West African countries for high-quality hardwood soared between 1995 and 2010. After exhausting that market, demand extended to Central and East Africa, and countries like Cameroon, Equatorial Guinea, Gabon, and the Republic of the Congo became major exporters.
Currently, Uganda is a transit hub for approximately 80 percent of illegal timber from the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) that passes through East Africa.

Illegal logging in Africa happens through both small-scale and commercial operations. The actors involved correspond to the four types of organized criminal actors tracked in the ENACT Organized Crime Index: criminal networks, state-embedded actors, foreign actors, and “mafia style groups” with well-known organizational identities and coercive control over territory.

Criminal networks are often aided and abetted by high-level state actors who use their positions to facilitate the illicit timber trade.
Criminal networks may, for example, secure control of and profits from the artisanal trade by purchasing commercial concessions through their government connections, acquiring fake permits, or reusing
legitimate permits.

Organized criminal activity can happen at any stage of the supply chain, during extraction, milling, transportation, marketing, or profit laundering. Artisanal or small-scale loggers are typically the extractors of high-value wood that supply trafficking groups, as their operations are more informal and have lighter regulations and oversight than those for commercial loggers.
Porous borders help traffickers to launder illegal timber across borders where they falsely declare the tree species to pass it off as legal.

Political elites collude with foreign actors, enabling illegal logging, and using the international financial system to move the profits they make out of their countries and into private bank accounts. This contributes to the public losing out on an estimated $88 billion in illicit financial flows that leave the African continent yearly.

Why Illegal Logging Matters for Security
First, the illicit timber trade can fuel conflict and instability by providing resources for violent actors and spreading corruption. During the civil war in Liberia, timber trafficking was one of warlord Charles Taylor’s prime means of financing. It also facilitated Taylor’s support to the Revolutionary United Front in neighboring Sierra Leone.

When the Seleka rebel coalition took over in Central African Republic (CAR) in 2013-14, international timber traders paid them at least 3.4 million euros in protection fees to continue their harvesting and exporting operations. This reinforced the rebels’ presence and also facilitated arms trafficking. After the Seleka lost power, Anti-Balaka militias were also reportedly paid to provide protection.

In the DRC, the Allied Democratic Forces and several other militant groups in the east have been involved in the illegal timber trade, which serves as a conflict financing mechanism.

In Senegal, where there has been a low-level insurgency since 1982, the Movement of Democratic Forces of Casamance (MFDC) has sustained its operations almost entirely through profits from illicit logging of rosewood. The Gambia’s former dictator, Yahya Jammeh, used parastatal companies to illegally traffic timber from both the Casamance and Guinea-Bissau, supporting an insurgency in the former and bolstering political allies in the latter.

Second, government corruption and illegal logging are mutually reinforcing. Given that logging involves heavy equipment and networks of forest roads, illegal logging relies on high-level government collusion to persist. Illicit financial flows from timber trafficking, in turn, further entrench these senior officials as well as provide ongoing incentives to abuse public power for private gain. The illicit flows represent lost tax revenue that could have been used for public services. This creates a vicious cycle that threatens the rule of law and fosters mistrust between governments and citizens.

Illegal logging, therefore, should be considered both an outcome and driver of government corruption. For example, in Equatorial Guinea, Teodoro Nguema Obiang Mangue, son of President Obiang, profited immensely from the transport and export of rare hardwoods. As the Minister of Agriculture and Forestry, he not only sold some of his country’s forests to private companies but also used a shell company linked to the ministry to charge fees for processing, loading, and transporting timber.

In Guinea-Bissau in 2013, crackdowns on security sector officials involved in drug trafficking—including the head of the armed forces and the navy chief—led other military officials who had been trafficking narcotics to deal in timber instead. In 2019, Gabon’s Vice President and Minister of Forestry were part of a rosewood trafficking scandal that allegedly led to their sacking.

In 2021, the Zambian Anti-Corruption Commission seized 47 trucks illegally laden with rosewood bound for the Namibian and Zimbabwean borders. This seizure is just one of the latest high-profile instances of illegal logging that has allegedly been facilitated by certain ministers and family members of former President Edgar Lungu.

Third, illegal logging diminishes livelihood opportunities for ordinary citizens. For instance, illegal logging contributes to deforestation, which exposes communities to environmental degradation and economic hardship. Without viable legal options to earn a living, communities may face stronger incentives to engage in illegal logging. Furthermore, the clandestine nature of illegal logging operations at the local level can increase vulnerability to human trafficking, systems of debt bondage, sexual exploitation, and child labor. Excerpts  – (Photo: 123rf.com)

C. Browne, Catherine Lena Kelly, and Carl Pilgram
Africa Centre for Strategic Studies.

 

Ancient methods.

Madj lights the flashlight on his head, tying hooks and lures to the ends of the lines. The space on board is narrow and the two fishermen work seated, to avoid dangerous jolts to the hull.

Crouching on the opposite sides of the dugout, one facing the other, the two men look at each other in silence and, in a dance of ancient gestures, they slide lines tightly between their fingers into the water. Rhythmically they raise and lower first one arm and then the other, making the lines crawl along the edges of the hull, which follows their swing. Wide grooves left on the sides of the boat testify to countless fishing trips like tonight’s.
Despite the handfuls of sand thrown overboard, another technique for attracting predators from the deep sea, the first abundant hour of fishing brings no prey. “Sometimes you don’t have time to throw the sand as they begin to bite. Others, on the other hand, spend hours without taking anything. Fishing is like that”.

“It seems like a lucky evening!”, says Madj

Madj, to keep up the morale of the crew, sings songs in Wolof. Bouba nervously lights yet another cigarette, starting to heat the embers for coffee on an improvised stove, made from an old, moped tyre and a perforated aluminium plate. The breeze blows crackling sparks of coal onto the surface of the sea. Even on the pirogues around, the fires of the improvised grills gradually light up.
Suddenly the young captain stands up, dangerously rocking the boat. In the rush to haul it aboard, the first squid escapes his grasp, splashing ink in his face. But it is only the prelude to an hour of abundant fishing, with several large squid (and a cuttlefish) caught one after the other.
The same good luck that night was also enjoyed by the other boats anchored in this bay, with young fishermen (some alone, others in pairs) who celebrate by sharing coffee, cigarettes, and laughter with the nearby pirogues. “It seems like a lucky evening!”, Madj rejoices, without stopping to bring to the surface fish which, before being thrown at his feet, twist on the hooks spraying black slime.

Tomorrow is another day
The night is far gone, and the rising wind penetrates under the numerous layers of clothes of the two fishermen, who pull the wax suits out of their backpacks. Madj tries to rest, perched in the bow on the wet top of the anchor, while his companion alternates teapots of coffee with toasted cuttlefish tentacles. On the horizon, moved by the rolling waves, persistent cold lights burst into the dark: “Those are the foreign fishing boats”, comments Madj, who is unable to sleep.

Upon returning to the port, Madj looks at the sun that returns to peep out behind the buildings of Dakar.

“We must be on our guard because if they arrive at full speed, they do not see us from up there and risk ramming us, as has already happened to many other boats”. Fortunately, the large boats flying European and Asian flags remain offshore tonight, without disturbing the fishing for the pirogues, which continues, with unusual success, until dawn.
Upon returning to the port, Madj looks at the sun that returns to peep out behind the buildings of Dakar, puffing wearily and pulling on a woollen hat. The tense features of his face break into a smile only when his bare feet and the bucket full of squid touch the fresh sand of the shore. All that remains for this exhausted man is to entrust the catch to the sellers of the Soumbédioune market, return home, wash, smoke, and rest for a few hours, before the next trip to sea. (Photos: Michele Cattani)

Andrea de Georgio

Music. Lido Pimienta. To the Rhythm of Cumbia.

Mention Colombia and one immediately thinks of cumbia: a rhythm, an atmosphere, a dance, a way of singing, a synthesis
of the essence of a people.

A people still struggling to find a balance and social pacification between modernist and traditionalist thrusts, between terrorist regurgitations, the ever-untamed violence of drug traffickers and a complex interracial coexistence, since the population is composed largely of whites and mestizos (85%), to which, however, must be added blacks and mulattoes (10%) and Amerindians (5%).
A difficult and bloody land, where there are those who try with difficulty to switch from the cultivation of coca to that of coffee, but who have to clash almost every day with an underworld obviously striving to maintain their power and to deal with situations of exploitation from which it is difficult to get free.

CC BY-SA 4.0/ProtoplasmaKid

This dualism between glimmers of light and the dark abyss is the main nourishment of Lido Maria Pimienta Paz, one of the emerging artists of the ‘new’ Colombia, even though she migrated to Canada at a very young age. Lido was born in 1986 in Baranquilla, a Colombian metropolis of nearly two million inhabitants, a stone’s throw from the Caribbean Atlantic. She did not have an easy childhood, complicated by the death of her father when she was only six years old. She migrated to Toronto but maintained ties with her country and it was there that she began to be noticed on the world-music circuits.
In fact, her voice and her expressiveness do not have much that is Western; on the contrary, her voice – at once persuasive, penetrating and rich in nuances – rather recalls the Afro-Caribbean tradition.

CC BY-SA 4.0/ Lawnya Vawnya

Moreover, she proudly claims her roots in the Wayuu, an indigenous people who have always settled in the area between Colombia and Venezuela.
Lido Pimienta debuted in 2010 with the album Color, and her latest album in 2020, Miss Colombia, from Anti Records, is establishing her as one of the most relevant talents in contemporary ethno-music. In this new adventure in the recording studio, Lido sings about her complex relationship with the motherland and with her origins, but also the female condition and the pain that it causes her to see her own country wounded by racism, still anchored to patriarchal and male chauvinists, and impoverished by corruption.
A frustrated and angry love overflows from her lyrics, while the music does not renounce references to the eternal cumbia, the inalienable essence of Colombian culture.

CC BY-SA 4.0/ Tsaorin

It should be noted that the record was mostly recorded outdoors: partly in her Canadian home, partly in the evocative setting of San Basilio de Palenque (a village about fifty kilometres from Cartagena), as a symbol of indigenous freedom, since there the first Colombian slave community managed to achieve independence from the Spanish empire in 1661, even before Colombia itself.
Certainly not a casual choice for a woman who has always made freedom, racial pride, and dignity the pivot of her being and her way of expressing herself through music. (Open Photo: Lido Pimienta CC BY 2.0/ Matthew Wordell)

Franz Coriasco

Setting Sail.

The sun is about to set behind the houses that, in the distance, appear on the opposite side of the bay from the small port of Soumbédioune, when Madj adjusts his hat and waves to his friend Bouba.

It is the signal to set sail. It is time to load the latest equipment on board and, with a tireless collective movement, slide the pirogue from the beach until it touches the Atlantic Ocean.
Many, like Madj and Bouba, hurry to leave the shore before evening falls. The crossing in the open sea, with its big long waves that lift the fragile wooden boats from below, takes only about ten minutes.

Madj and Bouba circumnavigate the island to reach one of the best squid fishing areas: the bay of the inlet that penetrates the southwestern side of the island.

The ancient engine, with Bouba at the helm and Madj at the bow, coughing over the whistling of the wind and the crying of the seagulls. The spikes of the rugged cliff of Sarpan Island appear before their eyes like the back of a dinosaur lying in the water. The Madeleine Islands are an archipelago made up of two volcanic rock formations, Sarpan and Lougne, which is only a few miles off the west coast of Dakar.
Followed on sight by several other pirogues, Madj and Bouba circumnavigate the island to reach one of the best squid fishing areas: the bay of the inlet that penetrates the southwestern side of the island.

“The colour depends on the moon. When there is a full moon, we put the red LEDs and create a shadowy space” say Madj.

After careful observation of the seabed, Madj drops anchor, trying to predict where the wind will rise from during the night. Meanwhile, Bouba, still aft, fiddles with a 12-volt battery, torches and electric cables. This type of traditional fishing is practised with the help of lamps lowered a few meters deep to attract fry and nocturnal predators, such as squid. “Once upon a time people used to fish with fires lit on boats. I saw it done when I was a child. Today, however, we use coloured Chinese LEDs”, says Madj.
In a matter of minutes, the last lights of the day give way to a disarming darkness. The sounds and glares of nearby Dakar are lost beyond the cliff. Under each canoe shaken by the current, the ocean lights up with blue and green lights. “The colour depends on the moon. When there is a full moon, we put the red LEDs and create a shadowy space”. A surreal atmosphere, accompanied by the powerful cry of flocks of birds perched on the wall of the island. (Photos: Michele Cattani)(AdG)

Laurenti Magesa. An Ancestor of the Church in Africa and the universal Church.

The renowned African theologian Prof. Fr. Laurenti Magesa died on 11 August, in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. “A giant of African Theology.”

He was known as the pioneer of African Theology. Laurenti Cornelli Magesa grappled intelligently and faithfully with African existential contexts. He shared this mission with other African theologians: Jean-Marc Ela of Cameroon, Bénézet Bujo of the Democratic Republic of Congo, Bernardin Muzungu of Rwanda, Charles Nyamiti of Tanzania, and Agbonkhianmeghe E. Orobator of Nigeria. Magesa heard the Christological question of Jesus in the Synoptic Gospels: “And you, who do you say that I am?” (Mk 8:27+; Mt 16:15+; Lk 9:18+) and he felt the need for an intelligent and sincere African response.

In his farewell words at the funeral of Prof. Magesa, Bishop Michael Msonganzila of Musoma diocese to which Rev. Magesa was incardinated, summed up Magesa’s life with the following words: “Magesa kept asking Africans: And you, Africans, who do you say that Jesus is?” Isn’t this the substance of Magesa’s numerous writings? How can we characterize Magesa’s Magna Carta as found in What Is Not Sacred?
And what can I briefly say in a few words about Magesa beyond what his books say about him?
In The Post-Conciliar Church in Africa: No Turning Back the Clock (2016), Magesa examines the reception and rejection of Vatican II (1962-65) in the African Church. He invites his readers to realize that “this Council did not see itself as the end of a process, but rather as a beginning. It opened, not closed, doors – whether doctrinal or disciplinary – for ongoing reflection, for the possibility of ever-improving knowledge and understanding.” Magesa’s robust Ecclesial vision offers a stimulus for African (Catholic) Christians to keep reflecting deeply and implementing the message and treasures of the Council. He invites his reader to grasp “the scope, meaning, and implications of the Council for the Church and people of Africa.”

African Spirituality
In one of his most notable and brilliant writings, What Is Not Sacred? African Spirituality. Prof. Magesa explores “the beauty of the spirituality of African religion and its enduring gift to Christianity as a light, not a shadow.” Magesa pays theological attention to indigenous African Spirituality and Christian Inculturation in Africa and this is his book’s greatest gift. He wrestles intelligently with important theological questions as they pertain to African life, such as the nature of God, revelation, and the meaning of life itself. Some scholars have taken Magesa’s What Is Not Sacred? as the Magna Carta of African Theology. Indeed, he makes it clear that “The African understanding of spirituality can be seen as human participation in the total, universal existence, the whole of human existential experience in the world” (p. 40).
He explains that there is no experience devoid of God’s self-communication, that is devoid of grace. Whatever exists, does so because of God’s grace. No one can live life without the experience of that grace. Here Magesa joins the German Jesuit theologian, Karl Rahner’s concept of “Uncreated Grace.”

Every human experience is an encounter with grace. In this Magna Carta, Magesa awakens Africans and all who read him from their dogmatic slumbers and enlightens them with the understanding of important themes in Africa’s spiritual patrimony. His major concern is to show how underestimating this patrimony “has weakened the impact of the missionary endeavor of evangelization on the continent … He laments the fact that the traditional African spiritual worldview, which should have been the cornerstone in building a Christian edifice, is deeply rooted in the culture of its recipients, was disregarded.” He exposes the treasures of African spirituality and relates them to the supernatural. He invites the African to enter into communion with the empirical world which is transcendental and sacramental.
He describes the different ways in which the traditional understanding of life shapes the attitudes of the African. For Magesa, “there is an inter-connectedness between life and the transcendental that forms the spiritual model of the African mindset.”
Magesa’s pedagogy, obvious in What Is Not Sacred, is to assist the reader to discover or at least to have a sense of what African Spirituality can offer to deepen Christianity rooted in the cultural heritage of Africa.  Magesa’ writings demonstrate with clarity that for anything to be considered truly Christian in African Christianity, it should be born and rooted in the African indigenous approach to God and to the message of the Gospel. Any attempt to circumvent this path by using one not born into the African cultural patrimony is doomed to fail. “Other spiritual traditions can inspire but cannot replace the basic shape of African spirituality” (What Is Not Sacred, p. 107).

Tanzania. Two young maasai warriors in traditional dress are standing in the savannah and talking to each other. One holds a ritual horn. 123rf.com

The implications of this Spirituality are tremendous. For Magesa, particular attention to African Spirituality can further the promotion of justice, good governance and interreligious dialogue. Magesa uses the “Ubuntu factor” to stress the quality of relationships between humans and nature, to prioritize tolerance, respect and coexistence in those places where reconciliation is still unattainable. Our mutual dependence and cooperation must promote social inclusion as opposed to “unhealthy competition and obsession with individual accomplishments, which are often attained at the expense of the well-being of others or the environment” (150). What is Not Sacred is Magesa’s enduring legacy. Tolle et lege (take and read), if you desire to have some key glimpses of Magesa’s hopes and joys, pains and anguish in What is not Sacred? African Spirituality.
Of particular note is that some African theologians have equally named his Anatomy of Inculturation: Transforming the Church in Africa (2004) as the Magna Carta of African Theology of Inculturation.

For further insight into Magesa’s academic biography, let me also share, albeit in an illustrative way, his authored books which can inspire present and future readers’ attention. African Religion in a Dialogue Debate: From Intolerance to Coexistence (2010); Rethinking Mission: Evangelization in African in a New Era (2006); Anatomy of Inculturation: Transforming the Church in Africa (2004); Christian Ethics in Africa (2002); Le Catholicisme Africain en mutation: des modèles d’église pour un siècle nouveau (2001); African Religion: The Moral Traditions of Abundant Life (1997), translated in German as Ethik des Lebens: Die afrikanischeKultur der Gemeinschaft; and The Church and Liberation in Africa (1976). Prof. Laurenti Magesa also co-authored others books: How Theology Serves: Reflections on Professor Peter Kanyandago’s Contribution to African Theology. (2021); Democracy and Reconciliation in African Christianity (1999); The Church in African Christianity (1990); Jesus in African Christianity (1989); and African Christian Marriage (1977). What often stands out in his authored and co-authored works, which always focused on Africa, is that Magesa’s study of African Christianity is that “although religion in the African mindset provides solutions to almost everything that concerns human life, Christianity has not been presented and received that way. Inculturation is therefore not an option but a necessity.”
Magesa published over two hundred articles in various peer reviewed academic and popular journals and as a chapter-contributor in books since 1975 to his death on August 11, 2022. Magesa received numerous awards, notably PhD Honoris Causa from DePaul University, Chicago, USA in 2018; US Mission Award as Distinguished African Theologian in 1998; and Xavier Univeristy’s J. Bruegeman Chair Award in 1995.

A man of God
Magesa was not just an erudite author of books. He was a friend to many. He was recognized as a man of God to those who met him. He was a pastor for God’s people. He did not seek self-aggrandizement. He was a self-effacing man with unparalleled humility. He taught me that the true value of things is not found in ostentation, but in letting your work speak for itself. Magesa rejoiced whenever he learned of his students’ small accomplishments. He rejoiced as if they were his own and celebrated them with great joy and happiness. When I returned from Boston, USA after having completed my Doctoral Studies, Laurenti took me to a beautiful place to be at ease and relax. From there we went to Serengeti National Park. He did the same for many others. When I was invited to speak at the United Nations General Assembly Hall, Laurenti edited my speech and offered wise advice. His wisdom shared with me, will remain engraved in the archives of the United Nations.

I invited Laurenti to speak at a conference in Rwanda at which he presented a brilliant paper which will be part of a forthcoming book published by Georgetown University Press (2023). The title of his paper is “Learning from a Tragedy: Toward a New Evangelization after the Genocide in Rwanda.” He stated that for about three months in 1994 – between April and mid-July – a systematic massacre of upwards of 800,000 people, mostly ethnic Tutsis, took place in Rwanda in what has become known universally as the Genocide against Tutsi.
Magesa was clear that there should not be any form of moral equivalence between a civil war and a genocide, as many tend to do when it comes to Rwanda. These are entirely different and should be honestly treated differently. It is globally recognized as well that the Catholic Church at various levels was involved negatively in that drama: in its questionable historical methods of evangelization, which created and cemented unnecessary divisions among the Rwandan people, on the one hand, and during the tragedy itself by abetting the violence in some significant cases on the other. If this scar on the church in Rwanda cannot be wiped away completely, it is necessary to learn from it so that it should not be repeated. Such was the essence of his presentation. He emphasized the necessity of memory in acknowledging guilt and repentance for the role the church inadvertently or knowingly played in the sad narrative of the genocide. Most importantly, he suggested that lessons to be learned from the genocide experience should be a basis for a “new evangelization,” not only in post-genocide Rwanda, but for the wider Church in the African continent and, indeed, throughout the world. Here, he joins other theologians such as Emmanuel Katongole who writes that the ecclesial experience of the genocide in Rwanda is a “mirror” to the universal Church.

The challenge for the church in Rwanda at all levels is to discern what is of God, and to establish practices for evangelization and catechetical approaches that will support justice, foster genuine universal reconciliation and lasting peace. As Pope John Paul II said similar words in Pastores Dabo Vobis, “Today, in particular, the pressing pastoral task of the new evangelization calls for the involvement of the entire People of God, and requires a new fervor, new methods and a new expression for the announcing and witnessing of the Gospel.” For this, a new type of leadership is called for: among other things, it “demands … a fruitful cooperation with the lay faithful, always respecting and fostering the different roles, charisms and ministries present within the ecclesial community.”

His Legacy
In November 2021, it became clear that Laurenti could not be the keynote speaker for a webinar on the Synod on Synodality organized by the Symposium of Episcopal Conference for Africa and Madagascar (SCAM) and the Jesuit Conference of Africa and Madagascar (JCAM). This was because his excruciating cancer. Laurenti suggested my name to the conveners of the webcast and he also called me on his phone and said: “Fr. Marcel, you have to do it and I believe you can carry on this work.” Despite his pain, Laurenti followed my speech and he was the first to congratulate his student. In his final days, he urged me to publish a book about Rwanda which he prefaced and also proposed its title. He did this while he was dying from metastasized pancreatic cancer. The book Risen from the Ashes: Theology as Autobiography in Post-Genocide Rwanda will be available in November 2022. With all this, together with others who share my sentiments because of what Laurenti had done for them, we can safely say that we have lost a father, a brother, a friend, a mentor and a giant of African Theology. Our hope in the Risen Christ is that Laurenti is now interceding for us and that we carry on his legacy which is now left in our hands.

Among many enduring lessons from Laurenti and beyond his scholarship, he taught us that when you know what you are passionate about, few things will be a barrier if you really want to be of service to humanity. He was passionate about Jesus Christ not as an abstract idea, but as a person whose message must be rooted in hearts of Africans. For Laurenti, the place where western Christian structures have failed to tap into African religious values has been in the former’s tendency to see repentance and spiritual transformation as an almost exclusively “personal,” and “inner” endeavor, ignoring the role of the community which, for the African, is pivotal. Social processes of community building, especially across existing divides caused by human wrongdoing, are for the African family very much transformative, as important and as necessary as interior attitudes of repentance.

Additionally, Laurenti knew that he had received much from his scholarly mission, and in return for all he received, he gave generously of himself. He was convinced that, “If you hold on to your life, you lose it, if you give it away, it becomes ever lasting life!” (Mt 16:25). He understood that if we are going to exist, we must give ourselves away. There may be no better way of doing that than spending many years teaching and journeying with students, and forming men and women well for the future Society of Jesus and the Church. He himself did this perfectly.
He gave himself away. He knew his own limitations, but they did not become a barrier. When I accompanied him to Musoma, Tanzania on his last journey, after he retired from Hekima University College, I asked him: “What made you a prolific writer?” He responded. “I am not a great speaker like you, but I hope my writings are my speech.” Two weeks before he died on August 11, 2022, a day after his 76th birthday, I called him and he was with his brother, Prof. Evaristi Cornelli Magoti and very much at peace. He gave me several bits of wisdom and advice. Before I left for another meeting, he said this: “I conclude with a piece of advice. It is important not to be a burden to yourself as a priest, doing things simply out of duty. This will eventually crush you. But even more important: try not to be a burden to others on account of your own discontents in life.”
In his Tribute to Laurenti Magesa, which was published by The Tablet (August 20-27, 2022), Agbonkhianmeghe E. Orobator could not have been more right. “The belief is strong in many parts of Africa that the status of an ancestor is reserved for people who have made a transformative and enduring contribution of service to their community. By his life of service as a pastor, the depth of his scholarship and the example of his life as a Christian, Magesa now qualifies to join the ranks of ancestors of the Church in Africa and the universal Church.”

Marcel Uwineza, SJ, PhD
Dean, Jesuit School of Theology
Hekima University College
Nairobi, Kenya

Mexico. Missionary Dimension, Taking Off Your Sandals.

 The diocese of Ciudad Guzmán in the Mexican state of Jalisco has recently celebrated 50 years of its existence. Father Juan Manuel Hurtado López, a Mexican theologian, who spent 17 years in the diocese accompanying the indigenous communities of Tseltal, Tsotsil and Mestizo in southeastern Mexico at the Church of San Cristóbal de Las Casas, presents the missionary dimension of this local church.

Being a Missionary Church means leaving one’s home, one’s security, customs, habits, or ways of doing things and leaving like Abraham for an unknown place, to take another course in life. It means carrying a message that is not one’s own but that of ‘another’ who is the one who speaks, the one who gives the message, that is, Jesus Christ. It is the message of the Good News of the Kingdom. I believe that my experience in a Missionary Church can be described on the basis of five keys.

First key:  take off your shoes.
The problem for us mestizos is that we believed we were the centre of culture, of society, of what happens. We think we are always the required reference for doing anything. That just as we do things, so they should be done; this is the norm. We have always walked with the belief that Spanish is the language here in Mexico where things need to be said. Other languages ​​are ‘dialects’, so we think. In fact, this is what most Mexicans say.But there are 65 indigenous languages ​​in Mexico, most of them older than Spanish.
They have their own grammar, syntax, prose, and spelling. They have their own dictionaries, their own myths, and their own narratives. There are living peoples who carry these languages ​​as subjects.

In the case of the Mayan languages, we are talking about a universe of 30 languages ​​in southern Mexico and parts of Central America. And the Maya are one of the top civilizations of humanity that has lasted 1,000 years, from 50 to 1050 of our Era. The Maya have their own spirituality, their own rituals and their own myths. From that stream, they drink and feed to fight for their needs. They have sought God for 30,000 years or more and have expressed Him in various ways. God’s name has also changed. They express it as Heart of Heaven, Heart of Earth, Creator, Buyer and in other ways. We see this theology expressed in the Popol Vuh, in the Mayan Altar, in the planting of candles and in various rites and myths. Entering these peoples and that culture, for me, meant taking off my shoes to understand a little bit the human, spiritual and philosophical journey of their culture and civilization. It was to experience God but in a different way. A key element is the integrated and non-dichotomous nature of their philosophical and theological vision: there is no inside and outside, corporeal and spiritual, sacred and profane. Indeed, the very dimension of time has another connotation: it is not measured in hours. Things last as long as it takes to do them, even if they last many hours: a prayer, solving a problem, an encounter. The mass must not last forty minutes or an hour. It can last 3 to 4 hours if necessary.

The Second key: inculturation
A culture is like the rainbow in which each of its elements finds its meaning, interpretation, and explanation: language, time, person, life, death, God, man and woman, earth, sky and evil.
This requires a lot of listening, a lot of patience, walking with people for years, and learning their language. It requires the attitude of not asking for explanations in advance, first you have to walk with people, with communities, and on the road, the right time will come to ask the question or wait for the answer. Learn from their life and how they relate to it so as to deal with it.

This means moving towards the geographic and existential peripheries.
It demands on our part that we do not impose our Western culture, our way of understanding and building the Church, the way of assuming services and responsibilities but respect the time that communities need to find solutions.
This key of inculturation poses the challenge of thinking and starting from the conviction that one can live one’s life by incorporating elements of other cultures: in customs, ideas, thoughts, concepts, in the experience of God, in spirituality, in the way to live the Church, over time, in the organization.
You understand that you can drink from God’s unique wisdom, beauty and holiness, but poured into different moulds which, like rays of light, reflect the totality of sunlight, reflected through a crystalline polyhedron.

Third key: walking with a synodal Church of assemblies, of agreements
In the Church of San Cristóbal de Las Casas all heads and officers are elected by the Diocesan Assembly: the Vicar General, the Episcopal Vicar of the Pastoral Care, the Chancellor, the Vicar of Justice and Peace, etc. The bishop is offered a rose and then chooses one. Another example is the Third Diocesan Synod.

From the stage of awareness and awareness to making the Synod, through the Parochial Assemblies, the Teams and the Diocesan Assemblies, all the materials, themes, songs, rites, the main theme, the motto and the symbols have reached each member of the 2,500-strong community of the diocese. It was truly an ecclesiogenesis based on the six proposed themes: the indigenous Church, the liberating Church, the evangelizing Church, the servant Church, the Church in communion and the Church under the guidance of the Spirit. All the agreements and guidelines were made in a diocesan synodal assembly. This synodal experience has marked the diocesan pastoral plans, the plans of the teams and parishes and missions; it marked the plans of the commissions and of the areas.

Fourth key: walking in a ministerial Church
Arriving in the diocese of San Cristóbal de Las Casas, something that is immediately found is the ministerial Church, the servant Church.
There are the Presidents of the Hermitage, the Deans, the candidates for the diaconate, the deacons, the adult catechists, the zone leaders, the zone coordinators, the captains of the celebrations, the health workers, the promoters of Indian theology and the Agents of Pastoral animation
and coordination.

All with various and different responsibilities. This requires us to take off our shoes again from the model of the Church where the priest does everything and decides everything. It is taking another walk, sharing, participating, and respecting the different services and ministries.
This means that you are not the only one with ability, who knows, who decides; you are part of a whole; the others also contribute to the journey, to the pastoral process.
It is not a question of imposing a method, a line, or an agreement. The world of servers is contributing with their path, in their style, with their time, and respecting their culture.

Fifth key: walking with the Church, listening and discerning the signs of the times
I’ll just give two examples of listening to the voice of the Spirit. San Cristóbal welcomed 40,000 refugees due to the internal war that Guatemala was experiencing due to the military dictatorship of the 1980s. It gave them shelter, food, and land to work.
And the second example is the mediation of Conai (National Intermediation Commission), chaired by Don Samuel during the war between the Zapatista Army Of National Liberation (EZLN) and the Federal Government.

Bishop Samuel Ruiz of the Diocese of San Cristóbal de las Casas, Chiapas, from 1959 until 1999.

With this, Don Samuel avoided thousands of deaths and achieved a cease-fire twelve days after the start. And finally, the function of the believing people, its prophetic function in the line of Don Samuel Ruíz García who is attentive to all events and announces and denounces. With these five keys, we get closer to what we mean by a missionary Church. And this is what Francis proposes with the outgoing Church, a Church that goes towards the geographical and existential peripheries. So … you have to take off your shoes!

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