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Question 2.27

2.27 Was the year 1978 a radical turning point in your life?

On the night of April 18, 1978, Monsignor Louis Barry, who was then serving as the apostolic administrator since the imprisonment of Archbishop Tchidimbo, arrived unexpectedly at the seminary in Kindia. During the meal he told us about the surprising adventure that he had had that same morning.

By a most unusual coincidence, he had met emissaries from the Holy See. In fact, Louis Barry was scheduled to travel to Kissidougou, and while going past the airport in Conakry, he had seen a small private airplane from which “purple belts” were getting off. Surprised, he stopped and made a U-turn to follow the car into which two bishops had climbed. Monsignor Barry had then seen the vehicle enter the palace of the president of the Republic. Increasingly astonished, he decided to stop by the Sisters of Saint Joseph of Cluny, whose house was a few dozen yards from the presidential palace. A little later, the emissaries left President SĂ©kou Touré’s residence to call on the Sisters. Monsignor Barry welcomed the two bishops, telling them of his joy and surprise at seeing them in Conakry. The two bishops were Archbishop Simon D. Lourdusamy, secretary of the Congregation for the Evangelization of Peoples, and Archbishop Luigi Barbarito, apostolic nuncio of Dakar. They came to take Archbishop Tchidimbo with them. But some journalists who were too well informed had anticipated the news of his release. And so President SĂ©kou TourĂ©, furious with this indiscretion, decided to postpone the release indefinitely. This was a new failure in the negotiations between the Holy See and the Guinean government.

Even more serious, the president had vehemently opposed the Holy See’s choice of the new archbishop of Conakry. In spite of the Guinean government’s position, Archbishop Lourdusamy secretly gave Monsignor Barry a mission; he was supposed to ask Father Robert Sarah if he would agree to become the next archbishop of Conakry. 


When he told us his story at dinner, Louis Barry said nothing about the mission that had been given to him, because my two assistants from the seminary, Désiré Roland Bangoura and Apollinaire CÚcé Kolié, were present. After dinner he asked to speak with me privately; we went to my room. Louis Barry then told me that Pope Paul VI had appointed me archbishop of Conakry and that I must give my response as quickly as possible. I was utterly frightened by this news. At first I protested by refusing the appointment, aware of my obvious inability to assume such a responsibility. The difficulties in the diocese were immense, and tensions between the Church of Guinea and the State were almost constant. My pastoral experience was truly inadequate, and most importantly I had not yet reached the age of thirty-three.

But Monsignor Barry immediately retorted, “I will be back for your written response in three days. In any case, if you refuse, Archbishop Raymond-Marie Tchidimbo will remain in prison, because SĂ©kou TourĂ© set as a condition for his release his immediate replacement in the Episcopal See of Conakry through the appointment of a new archbishop.” Archbishop Tchidimbo had already submitted his letter of his resignation from the office of archbishop of Conakry. Therefore, the archiepiscopal see of Conakry was now vacant.

Monsignor Barry’s second argument was as follows: “You cannot refuse to obey the pope, who trusts in you. He speaks in God’s name; you absolutely must obey him as a son obeys his father.” He then ended our conversation by saying to me: “The service and the mission that God is entrusting to you through this office necessarily involve the cross. But God will be with you to support you.” Needless to say, I was completely dejected.

I could not understand why Paul VI chose a simple, unknown young man like me. Why did the Holy See not nominate Monsignor Barry, who had all the requisite maturity? I felt as though I had been caught up in an unbelievable tempest, and I understood nothing about this decision. I was willing to suffer for my Church, but still I was petrified by this choice which seemed to me particularly grave.

Although I could understand that Monsignor Barry wanted to forward a rapid response to the nunciature, I was literally crushed by the short time that he gave me to reflect. I remained prostrate for three long days. Finally, I wrote a letter to the pope telling him that I was unworthy and incapable but that I accepted his decision. That same day I chose my episcopal motto: “Sufficit tibi gratia mea” (My grace is sufficient for you), from the Second Letter to the Corinthians (12:9). The apostolic administrator came to get my letter, and, for an entire year, negotiations were pursued between the Holy See and SĂ©kou TourĂ©.

In September 1978, Monsignor Barry asked me to leave the seminary and become his private secretary. He intended to help prepare me in this way for my heavy responsibility and to allow me to experience the ambiance of the city of Conakry, with which I was not well acquainted.

For me the year 1978-1979 at the archbishop’s chancery was like a long retreat in the desert, a time of prayer, silent tears, and study. I wanted to place everything in God’s hands. At the same time that I served as Monsignor Barry’s private secretary, I also assumed the responsibilities of curate of the parish of Saint Joseph the Worker and chaplain of Saint ThĂ©rĂšse of the Child Jesus boarding school run by the Congregation of the Little Sisters of Our Lady of Guinea.

For a year and four months, I was alone with Monsignor Barry, carrying the weight of the papal secret and the terrible anguish it caused me. I could speak of it to no one, not even to my parents.

Then, as if by a miracle, Archbishop Tchidimbo was released and deported on August 7, 1979. . .

On August 18 and 19, 1979, a papal delegation came to meet once again with the president. Sékou Touré finally accepted my appointment, and time began to pass quickly. The Roman prelates asked me to organize within a few days a Mass of thanksgiving in the cathedral for Thursday, August 23, with no other explanation than the joy of having a ceremony on the occasion of the presence among us of a special envoy from the Holy See. 


I was living as if in a strange dream! God wanted me to become archbishop at the age of thirty-four, while the country was going through an unprecedented crisis and all the property of the Church had been confiscated. The Mass was celebrated at 10:00 A.M. in the cathedral, and the appointment of Bishop Philippe Kourouma, as bishop of N’ZĂ©rĂ©korĂ©, was made public at the same time as mine. On that occasion I was also named apostolic administrator of the Diocese of Kankan.

On that day in August, the few faithful who had gathered in haste wept with joy and emotion. Since that terrible day in December 1970, we no longer had a bishop in any of the dioceses in Guinea. I knew that the trials of Archbishop Tchidimbo were immense. During those long years in the camp where he lived, one of his cousins, Mother Louis Curtis, would come and bring to him, in total secrecy, some hosts that allowed him to consecrate clandestinely and consume the Body of Christ, before his cell companions had awakened. In his book-length testament, Noviciat d’un Ă©vĂȘque (A bishop’s novitiate), he wrote with the modesty so characteristic of him that “these brief Masses, celebrated in the utmost silence, around five o’clock in the morning, would be among the most moving ones of my priestly life.”

On August 7, 1979, Archbishop Tchidimbo was released and immediately driven to the airport to leave for Rome. I heard the news on the radio, and no one had obtained permission to greet him before he left the country. It was an indescribable emotion.

When my appointment was made public on August 23, 1979, two Holy Ghost Fathers, Robert Haffmans and Michel Legrain, were in Ourous. They heard the news on the radio by chance and ran to announce my appointment to my parents. Instead of joy and enthusiasm, they found that my parents were anguished: “You should be so happy that your son is called to such a high position of responsibility in the Church! Why are you sad?” the two missionaries asked. And my father and mother replied: “Do you know where his predecessor was?” They feared I would very soon have the same fate as Archbishop Tchidimbo.

After the Mass of thanksgiving, we asked to have an audience with the president, who agreed to receive us. At that time it was important to give the impression that we respected the work of the revolution. SĂ©kou TourĂ© did want us to be able to invite bishops from Africa and Europe to the occasion of our episcopal consecration, which was major news for the regime. On December 8, 1979, the day of my ordination, some bishops, priests, and clergymen returned for the first time to Guinea; Giovanni Cardinal Benelli, assisted by Archbishop Luc SangarĂ© of Bamako and Bishop Jean Orchampt of Angers and accompanied by twenty-s even other bishops, ordained me in the gardens of the archbishop’s residence in the presence of seven Guinean ministers led by the prime minister, Lansana BĂ©avogui, and AndrĂ©e TourĂ©, the president’s wife.

SĂ©kou TourĂ© had done all that he could to oppose my nomination, but from then on he seemed to accept my episcopate; the mobilization of the Vatican, of Liberia, and of numerous international organizations on behalf of the release of Archbishop Tchidimbo had greatly offended the regime. Moreover, the leader of the revolution did not want to open a new breach by continuing to reject Rome’s decisions. For me, however, it was the calm before the storm.

Very quickly I came to understand that the big problem of my ministry would be the relationships with my priests. The priesthood, families, young people, and the evangelizing influence of the Church were the four priorities for the beginning of my episcopal ministry.

In the beginning, I asked to be able to share my meals with all the priests of the diocese who worked in the offices of the archdiocese. I wanted to create a family atmosphere. But some laymen came to see me to warn me: everything I said was being reported to SĂ©kou Touré’s cabinet. With sadness I resigned myself to taking all my meals alone.