Martyr in Congo

Chapter 4. Community Life in Baraka

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I will pay my vows to the Lord
in the presence of all the people.
O precious in the eyes of the Lord
is the death of the faithful. (Ps. 116)

Things are not going very well at the moment. Though we have not suffered hunger so far, it is now becoming increasingly difficult to find food. Milk, flour, everything is very costly. We eat rice with fish, and a little meat with pasta. As usual, we miss vegetables most of all. Much has happened in my first year in Africa and very little of it has been positive for the country. Communism is widespread and we must not be deceived about its true nature. I ask you all to pray for peace in the Congo. The soldiers are constantly roaming around and the civil population is terrified of them. Our letters are now being censored.

Until recently, the missionaries had always been respected, now our activities are limited. Prudence advises us not to stick our necks out. I look after the kitchen and the chickens in my role as provider for the needs of my community. Father Adriano is our mechanic and attends to the truck and the boat we use to cross the lake. Father Angelo Costalonga is our gardener. This disorder upsets us. We will have much work to do, especially in attending to the isolated Christians in the country whose only comfort is the recitation of the rosary. Here in Baraka, fighting broke out between tribes over a territorial dispute and two men were killed. It is incredible that such a thing should happen, and so much in contrast with how nice they are when we speak on friendly terms!” (January 21, 1961) 

The joy of suffering for Christ

I am writing this in Bukavu after an adventurous week which saw me “stay” in every prison between Fizi and Bukavu (which are 150 miles apart: quite an achievement!).

At midday on Thursday February 2, 1961, a United Nations helicopter landed in front of my bedroom window in Baraka. A soldier got out and approached Father Adriano: he spoke to him in English and asked if we wished to join them in escaping from the Congo. Naturally, we said no. In the meantime, all the children of the school had gathered round the helicopter to have a close look at it. The soldier bade us farewell and got back into the helicopter which soon disappeared over the horizon. At 3:30 pm, a couple of cars arrived at the mission. Some soldiers got out and questioned us about the helicopter and a letter. The children had mentioned to some unidentified informers that the UN soldiers had left us a document. Our house was carefully searched from top to bottom.

The soldiers found 50 gallons of gasoline which they immediately confiscated (it would be more accurate to say that they stole them). They ordered us to board a jeep and took us around Baraka. After an hour they drove us back to the mission. I went into the house and my first thought was to wash. When I came out of the bathroom I saw a jeep stop in front of our house. This time there were about 20 soldiers and they placed machine guns in various strategic points.

Suddenly, 2 soldiers opened the door of my room and signaled to me to come out. I resisted, explaining that I was dressing; they insisted three times before giving me time to finish what I was doing. We got back into the jeep and we were taken to a cramped and dark prison. We were meticulously searched before being confined in the cells. The conditions were very primitive and uncomfortable, but in my heart I rejoiced at the thought that I, though unworthy, was suffering for the faith.

Prison Time

At 6 am, I was taken to the lake where the soldiers ordered me to help them clean the jeep. Some of the school children, who had come to wash at the lake, directed some eloquent inquiring looks in my direction. Though they didn’t speak, it was as if they were asking me why I had been detained and why, above all, was I being forced to wash the soldiers’ jeep. When we had finished, I was taken back to the prison and there I learned that the Fathers had returned to the mission. I asked to be allowed to join them and receive Holy Communion. At first they refused, saying that I was an evil man.

After about an hour they allowed me to leave the cell and took me by jeep to the mission. I asked for something to eat. Once again, the first answer was a refusal then, afterwards, a couple of guards prepared some food and brought it to me. I ate, changed my clothing, and gave some instructions to a collaborator of the mission; I then got back into the jeep and was driven back to prison. Around midday, I was put into the jeep with the Fathers and we set out for Uvira, our final destination being Bukavu. 

Suddenly, two soldiers opened the door of my room and signaled to me to come out. I resisted, explaining that I was dressing; they insisted three times before giving me time to finish what I was doing. We got back into the jeep and we were taken to a cramped and dark prison. We were meticulously searched before being confined in the cells. The conditions were very primitive and uncomfortable, but in my heart I rejoiced at the thought that I, though unworthy, was suffering for the faith.
Br. Victor Faccin

At about 5 pm, we arrived at the mission of Uvira which is about 25 miles from the prison. We were allowed to eat in our own house, though we still had to spend the night in prison. At 8:30 pm, we were confined in a small cell which had no windows or toilet facilities. The guards mercifully left the door open. We were given a metal sheet for a mattress, a mat and a blanket to cover us. There were so many bugs and insects around that my hands, feet and eye were swollen by morning. We were allowed to go back home for something to eat and we also celebrated Mass and I received communion.

At 10:30 am, we were back in our cells where we stayed until midday. We were then taken by jeep to Bukavu, the capital of the province. We arrived at 6 pm, after a rather unpleasant journey, the details of which I will spare you. In Bukavu, we were taken by the commissioner to speak with the great chief Kashamura, but he was not home. We were taken straight to prison and we stayed there for two days until Monday 6 February. Compared to its predecessors, this was paradise. We found two mattresses and a UN soldier brought us food and two blankets each before we settled down for the night. Two kind Christian guards watched over us.

On Sunday we got to know the other prisoners in the nearby cells – there were about ten of them. They were highly placed people: directors, managers, etc. Today the good people are in prison while the real delinquents are free outside! Our case has been taken to the provincial Council and decided by the great chief Kashamura. The Interior Minister has always dealt directly with us. On Monday, at 9:30 am, he sent his car to take us from the prison to his office.

After half an hour, he gave us permission to go to the mission of Bukavu. Father Adriano, instead, was expelled from the country. Father Knittel stayed in Bukavu for some days and will later go to Europe for a period of rest. For the moment, Father Costalonga and myself have been given permission to stay in Uvira. We still await the arrival of a document authorizing our free circulation. The mission of Baraka is temporarily closed in the hope that the situation will improve before too long. Adieu to so much work and hopes! After so many adventures, however, we were never beaten, unlike other missionaries”. (Bukavu, February, 8, 1961)

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