Question 2.25

2.25 After spending time in Jerusalem and Rome, you returned to Guinea to become a parish priest. …

After earning my degrees in theology and exegesis, I was appointed curate of Boké, which is located on the seacoast of Guinea. This ministry was the most beautiful priestly experience of my life. The parish was immense; the most distant parishioners lived on the Senegalese border. My vicar, Jean-David Soumah, and I had no car. …

I remembered the missionaries of my childhood who set out almost every day on foot to evangelize the most remote populations. From now on, I could imitate them in every way. I walked long hours, always accompanied by two or three catechists, with a traveling Mass kit on my head, under a blazing sun; sometimes I would run into a cargo truck, and the driver would offer me a ride. When I went to marshy areas in the middle of lagoons, I would take a canoe. Often we had to cross very dangerous torrents, like that of Kakoulkoul. We held our breath for fear of being engulfed by a whirlpool. . .

Often I chose to travel to the most remote villages because I knew those inhabitants had not had a visit from a priest since the expulsion of the missionaries in 1967. After almost a decade without a priest, the villagers continued to teach the catechism to their children themselves, to recite daily prayers, to pray the rosary with great filial devotion to the Virgin Mary, and to listen to the Word of God on Sundays. I had the grace of fortifying those people who had kept the faith without any sacramental support because of the lack of priests. I will never forget their unimaginable joy when I celebrated Mass, which they had not experienced for so long. How could I not feel tremendous gratitude as I observed the catechists who kept this flickering flame alive by walking long hours from village to village? Their sacrifice has always remained in my heart.

Very quickly I determined that most of my missionary work should focus on strengthening the formation of the catechists. They were the real builders of our parishes.

Very soon I understood, too, that I had been put under close surveillance by the men of Sékou Touré’s regime. For example, my homilies and those of other priests were systematically listened to by spies who reported all of our public statements to the regional cadres of the revolutionary party. I had to be careful not to question the doctrine of the State Party openly. At that time, Archbishop Tchidimbo had been in prison for four years, and the dictatorship was becoming increasingly harsh.

Thousands of Guineans tried every day to leave the country. All religious properties had been confiscated and nationalized; we lived in great poverty. In the name of national independence, following drastic orders from Sékou Touré, the Church in Guinea was totally cut off from the Catholic world, thus preventing the Holy See from providing any aid at all. This situation made our daily life difficult, but I considered that these sufferings allowed us, as priests, to live in the same destitution as the faithful. My meals were very frugal, as I had to count almost exclusively on the aid of the parishioners, who themselves lacked everything.

One day, while I was leaving for Zéroun, one of the most remote “Bassari” villages in the parish of Ourous not far from the border with Senegal, in order to celebrate Mass, I met a man who seemed to know the area. I asked him if he could give us directions. He offered to come with us. He turned out to be a militiaman disguised as a simple farmer who thought I was trying to leave Guinea. While letting me think he would help me find my destination, he made me walk for an entire afternoon, only to lead me to a military camp in Négaré. I had to spend a lot of time explaining myself, because the camp commander, too, thought that I intended to cross the border in secrecy! Little by little, I was able to appease his fears. But night fell, and I had no idea where I was. The commander finally ordered two soldiers to drive me into the village for which I was looking. Toward midnight, I arrived at the destination with my catechists.

The joy of the residents was indescribable. According to their customs, the sheep, goat, or any other animal that is going to be served is not killed until it has been presented alive to the foreigner. Only after the welcome and this rite of presentation did the women begin to make the meal. When the dinner and the dancing were done, I slept in the hut that was reserved for me, but the two soldiers who accompanied me stayed crouched in front of the door because they continued to have doubts. … The next day I was able to bless the small chapel that the Christian community had built as well as the hut in which I had spent the night, which they had named the “rectory”. From then on, this hut would be reserved for the priest who was visiting the village. After breakfast, the two soldiers went back to the military camp. With the catechists we walked for three days in the brush to meet those who were most isolated. When we returned, I insisted on returning to the military camp to prove that I was not trying to leave the country. The soldiers apologized and offered me a chicken as a sign of reconciliation!

How could anyone ever forget these men and women who had almost nothing, who dressed, ate, and lived according to local customs, but who showed, in the midst of their fellow citizens who were still animists, the radical witness of their faith in Jesus? They are still in my heart, as they are role models for the faithfulness and perseverance that Christ requires of us on this earth.

During those two years, I was able to observe how much Guinea was suffering under a dictatorial regime that offered it no hope. Lies and violence were the favorite weapons of a system that was based on a destructive Marxist ideology. The economy of the country had collapsed, and the inhabitants of the villages experienced extreme poverty. In the countryside, the mutual assistance between the villagers allowed them to provide for their most basic needs. Sékou Touré was obsessed with carrying out his messianic plan, but he increasingly fell into a paranoia that saw enemies of the revolution everywhere planning his demise. Guinea was battered, drained, and destroyed. Its very soul was being reduced little by little to a shell of its former self.