Fada, Would It Be Better?

 In 1974, I arrived in the West African country of the Gambia full of enthusiasm and energy in a predominantly Muslim country. My first appointment was to a mission on the outskirts of the capital Banjul. Not alone did I not have the native language - in fact, there were seven totally different languages, not dialects, in the mission - I had no clue about the culture and way of life of the people.

Quickly, catechists - Philip Sagnia and Joe Mendy - entered into my life. Philip had three of the local languages, Jola, Wollof and Serer while Joe had two, Mandiago and Mankine. So five of the most populous potentially Christian tribes could be covered. They were the official catechists in the mission and I would have been totally lost without them. Looking back, I admire their wonderful patience with the new priest who thought he knew it all. I would prepare the Sunday sermon with their help and quickly became acquainted with 'Fada, would it be better?' This was their very polite way of informing me that big words like sanctity and humility did not mean much. 'Fada, please explain what you say.' They were ruthless on religious jargon such as sanctifying grace. Mortal and venial sins were outlawed - the words, not the reality. They taught me the need to talk in simple small everyday language and use images of the world around me in the Gambia, of the crops, the drought, the animals, the colours and the smells.

Philip and Joe became additional eyes and ears for me. I had a little amount of money from friends and family in Ireland to help needy cases for school fees and medicine. They would tell me the real hardship cases. 

Many times in preparing for funeral services I would hear 'Fada, would it be better?' They knew their people and their ways. Many times they saved me from making a total idiot of myself. They were always prompt and mostly right with their advice.

Five nights a week Philip and Joe would invite people to catechism lessons. It was never just about learning: they taught their people how important prayer was - before, during and after the class. They taught me how important prayer was: 'Fada, would it be better to pray first?' 

After a year, the bishop asked me to go to an up country central mission. Smaller mission stations radiated out from the centre like the spokes of a wheel. The area was approximately 1000 square kilometres. I tried to visit each small mission station at least once a month, but I had a person, normally a teacher, acting as a catechist in each of the main villages in my mission. This catechist would lead the prayer service on a Sunday and teach the few Christian children their catechism each night. He would pray with the sick and the dying and have a burial service if I could not make it to the village on time; bodies decay rapidly in the African sun.

In the central mission was the chief catechist, Harry Kujabi. Harry had seen various missionaries come and go. He was the permanent fixture, the source of continuity. He knew his people and they respected him. 

Many times in the first year, I heard the refrain 'Fada, would it be better?' I had to swallow any bit of pride left in me and realise that he was politely saying I was using big words, religious jargon, approaching a matter in the wrong way. I liked the brief meeting, the quick solution, getting down to business immediately but Harry taught me that this was not the African way. Respect comes before business. 

I remember my first Christmas. The plaster statue of the infant Jesus was dropped and broken. For me, this was regrettable, but not a major incident. Midnight Mass could proceed as planned. But not for Harry. One could not have Christmas without placing the infant Jesus in the crib. People had walked miles to view the infant. Harry dispatched a boy on a bicycle to go to a Muslim carpenter with the six pieces of the broken figure. Midnight came and the hymns began. One o'clock came and the hymns were repeated. At 1:15am, the carved figure came. It was only then that Harry allowed me to commence the celebration of the Mass. The response of the people told me that Harry was right. 

Missionaries throughout Africa, are totally dependent on lay catechists. They are the extended feet and words of the missionary. Missionaries have to cover vast areas, so resident catechists in a village are essential. Many of them are volunteers, some are helped with food and transport (a bicycle). The chief catechists are paid the wage equivalent to a primary teacher, which in many parts of Africa is not very much. The Young Churches need catechists, and World Missions, Ireland (continuing the work of the Pontifical Mission Societies) makes contributions form the Mission Sunday collection to catechists. These contributions enable their invaluable work to continue.

For further details please contact us on 00353 1 4972035 or at mission@wmi.ie