G like Joy
What language do missionaries “speak”? Theirs is an alphabet of mercy, with letters that breathe life back into words and generate works
“Bon bon padiri” (give us candy, Father).
It was the refrain of a small group of children who had seen me sucking a candy.
Sure enough, they thought they had more (I like them very much). So, I go back into the house and come out with a handful.
They line up, extending their hand and with two eyes telling you they would like another one (but I don’t have the factory). But they are not enough for everyone. So, the miracle happens.
Someone starts to break it up and gives a little piece to the smaller ones, and so everyone is happy.
I am left speechless. Usually, when I eat them (ah, gluttony!), I almost swallow them, instead they…!
However, I see them happy, full of joy, because they managed to please everyone, no one excluded. And that is the first thing to say.
Then, at the beginning of my adventure in Africa, when I was studying the language, I started to go and talk to them. I would sit on the little wall near the mission and they would walk around.
They would look up at me and wait for me to speak. I open my mouth and the first words come out a little bit cheated, then I freeze….
And they “Hodari, padiri (courage father).” I continue, but the words no longer come to me. They start to smile, then someone escapes laughing. I hide my face with my hands, however, I look between my fingers at what they are doing. I could see that with gestures they were indicating that ‘this white guy right here’ was a little clumsy.
Then one approaches. He takes my hands and looks at me, saying, “Usiogope, padiri. Pole pole utajifunza (Don’t be afraid father, slowly you will learn it).”
They take me by the hand and start dancing. I didn’t know how to do it (think of a sack of potatoes wanting to become agile).
One takes the drum and starts the dance. As if by magic, I too move with ease, as if I had been doing it all along. They start laughing in amusement. “Angalia, padiri, anacheza bien (look, father dances well).”
And so the friendship began. Every day they would greet each other, exchange news. Then they would accompany me to some houses to find the sick or the elderly. They too would smile (some teeth were already gone, but the smile was not).
Joy is something that starts slowly, then doesn’t stop. It involves everyone. And I have seen this many times at Sunday Mass: there is singing, there is dancing, there is joy in sharing together a little bit of life, a little bit of faith in the inventor of Joy: Jesus Christ.
He is always there dancing among us. We lend Him our bodies, our hearts, and everything moves, everything expresses something special. He takes away sadness, even if problems remain. It gives strength to face them with some serenity. In short you fill up for the whole week. This then continues, when you go through the villages to visit people.
You hear the women singing religious songs as they pile (crush) cassava. With this rhythm, the work becomes less tiring and brings some happiness, some hope for the future.
Or the fishermen who at night, while casting their nets, in the moonlight, give themselves strength and courage to make a good catch and bring joy home.
So many small gestures that put together build something new, something that lasts.
And where are the little friends hiding? They are always there. You don’t notice, when they pop out from behind a house and run up to you, saying, “Bon bon padiri.” Then you get smart. You always keep some in your pocket, because they know they can always ask you for them and you give them to them. Their big eyes
say more than words. Sometimes, touching their bellies, they add, “Ndjala, padiri”( I’m hungry).
This you can’t fix, but if you add another candy to them, they throw you an “aksanti, padiri”( thank you, father).
And you are happy too.
Source
- Father Oliviero Ferro
Image
- Image digitally created by spazio+spadoni