Question 2.32

2.32 Even after the coup, it seems your life was not calm and peaceful every day. …

Of course, there were some very difficult moments. I, too, had to carry what Saint Augustine called the sarcina episcopalis. This popular military term denotes the baggage of a solider, the barda, the cumbersome, heavy gear that he carried. Quite often, it is a particularly heavy barda that the bishop must carry each day on his shoulders, and it gradually becomes heavier and heavier as his ministry meets with obstacles-especially if they come from within the Church and from his closest collaborators.

I had moments of discouragement and even collapse. So it was that in February 1990, at the point of exhaustion, I drafted a letter to the pope, resigning from my position as archbishop of Conakry. I wanted to retire to a small parish to serve as a simple priest. Before sending it to the Holy Father, I wanted to inform Father Barry so that he could give me his advice and help me to think with discernment. I had also written this short cover letter that had a touch of bitterness about it: “Why have I written to you to tell you of my decision? It is not to flaunt my troubles or to complain. No! It is simply because eleven years ago, in April 1978, you were the one to whom I gave my affirmative response to Pope John Paul II, who asked me to assume the office of pastor of the Archdiocese of Conakry. It is also because I have always considered you a father, a guide, and an adviser. I can say, as St. Paul said, ‘What we are is known to God, and I hope it is known also to your conscience. . . [We have spoken to you frankly]; our heart is wide [open to you]’ (2 Cor 5:11; 6:11).”

He reacted negatively, retorting that the Cross is not the business of a day or a week but of a whole lifetime. He strongly dissuaded me from sending my letter to the pope. . . And he kept it. Not until 2010, after my Mass of thanksgiving for the cardinalate, did he give it back to me, in Ourous!

The almost constant underground struggle with the political authorities, from the dictatorship of Sékou Touré to the military regime of Lansana Conté, was undoubtedly trying. But these external difficulties were not what was gnawing away at my courage and determination to serve the Lord. Instead, it was the internal struggles that I had to face, that shattered me by showing me with increasing clarity that I was objectively incapable of leading the Church of Conakry.

In order to address the situation, I established a program of regular spiritual retreats. Every two months, I would leave, alone, for a completely isolated spot. I would subject myself to an absolute fast, with no food or water for three days. I wanted to be with God, to speak with him in private. When I left Conakry, I would take nothing with me except a Bible, a small traveling Mass kit, and a book of spiritual reading. The Eucharist was my only food and my sole companion. This life of solitude and prayer helped me to recharge and to return to battle.

I think that a bishop, in order to fulfill his role, must do penance, fast, listen to the Lord, and pray for long periods of time in silence and solitude. Christ withdrew for forty days in the desert; the successors to the apostles must imitate Christ as faithfully as possible.

My Christian experience and conviction were born through contact with the Holy Ghost Fathers of my village. When they encountered difficulties, the missionaries took refuge in prayer. The process of human birth takes a long time and is not a single act. It happens moment by moment. There were stages that gave my life a decisive orientation. But these turning points were the hours, the moments of the day when, one-on-one with the Lord, I became aware of his will for me. The most important moments in life are the hours of prayer and adoration. They give birth to a human being, fashion our true identity; they root our existence in mystery. My daily encounters with the Lord, in supplication and prayer, are the basis for my life. I began to be attentive to these moments even as a child, in my family, and through contact with the Holy Ghost Fathers in Ourous. When we must live the Passion, we have to retreat to the Garden of Gethsemane, in the solitude of the night.

Therefore I prayed once again, and I decided not to send my letter of resignation.