Martyr in China

Chapter 3. In the Western Mountains

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Fr. Caio Rastelli - Photo from the Western Mountains of China

Just six months later, Father Caio was sent to a mission in the Western mountains, more than 200 miles from the capital; on a plateau dominated by the Luliang mountains, at an altitude of about 5,000 feet, though some peaks were higher than 8,000 feet. To the west, the Yellow river marked the boundaries with the nearby Shanxi province. The mission included the prefecture of Fenzhou and eight sub-prefectures, and extended for 90 miles in length and a little less in width, with a surface area of about 14,000 square miles.

Father Caio left on November 1, full of joy and enthusiasm, in spite of the fact that the Apostolic Vicar had warned him that he would suffer much because of the climate, the food and, above all, the loneliness, anxieties and spiritual sufferings. He wrote to the Founder: “I am leaving for…Paradise! My joy is so great that this journey could not possibly lead me elsewhere except to Heaven. How happy I am to serve the Lord!”

He had taken with him just four chasubles, a missal, his breviary and a small book, a compendium of moral and dogmatic theology. He was accompanied by the Chinese priest Gabriel Suen, and by a 22 year old man who was to work as teacher and catechist. Their journey to Sie-kou, the Christian village that was to be their headquarters, lasted five or six days.

I am leaving for ...Paradise! My joy is so great that this journey could not possibly lead me elsewhere except to Heaven. How happy I am to serve the Lord.
Fr. Caio Rastelli

After he had settled in a little, Fr. Caio wrote the first letters to his family and the Founder. He lived in a grotto, probably a house carved out in the loess, and he felt perfectly at home there; it was the same living arrangements as the local people. He admitted that he did not eat very well: everyone ate millet, maize and oats, along with beans, pumpkins, lentils, turnips, peppers and a kind of cabbage. Rice was rarely seen. Meat was also scarce: many people died without ever having tasted it.

In his own words, the important thing was that food be “sufficient to keep hunger and illness at bay; that was my father’s philosophy and I have made it my own”.

The language became a nightmare: pronunciation differed from one village to another and he was unable to make head or tail of it. Nevertheless, he liked it: “It has an extraordinary delicacy and nobility”. It was a pity that he could not speak it well: “I suffer a lot because I cannot get deeply involved with the people; if only I could just speak to them, to work for Jesus and save souls”.

He looked upon his people with favor: they were good, docile, and animated by a sincere piety. He watched them work with rudimentary tools, but they were so industrious and tenacious that he was filled with admiration. It was a pity that there was famine in the country.

There were many painful and dramatic situations behind those words. Father Caio became familiar with misery, and felt the same hunger that his people were forced to endure; his impotence in the face of all this suffering wore him out.

In one letter he wrote: “Famine has fallen upon us in its most terrible form. Two years ago the harvest was down by a half, last year by a third; this year it was impossible to sow anything. There is no industry, no work, no food. Wolves prowl around looking for prey; unruly swarms of people roam around everywhere searching for a little food to stave off impending death; they attack wealthy families and take away anything edible; many of these die on the streets, and others, the most timid ones, wait for death at home. Those Christians who previously turned to the priest for help have now set up home in the Church. They have traveled from afar and amid many difficulties to wait for death. Resigned to their fate, they shut themselves up in their houses, and wait for hunger to consume them …”

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