This past weekend, Kathy and I traveled to Subukia for the National Day of Prayer. Subukia is about 450 miles from Mombasa and is north of Nairobi. The National Day of Prayer is an annual event organized by the Kenya Conference of Catholic Bishops. The date and location of the event was announced several months ago. Kathy immediately expressed interest in going. I was a little more tentative given the distance. I assume this what also dissuaded any of our fellow missioners from wanting to go. Even though the travel there was challenging, I’m so glad that I went.
The day of prayer was held at a beautiful shrine in Subukia. The shrine is dedicated to Mary the Mother of God and is the national Marian shrine of Kenya. However, the shrine also attracts many non-Catholics and even many non-Christians. Given the beauty and the sense of peace that surrounds the shrine, that is not a surprise.
Catholic parishes from all over Kenya organized busses to go to the event. Mostly every parish sent at least one bus, but many parishes sent multiple busses. The way most of the trips worked from the Coast, where Mombasa lies, is that the bus would leave on Friday, arrive in Subukia either late Friday night or early Saturday morning, leave Subukia on Saturday afternoon after the day of prayer concluded and arrive home on Sunday morning.
By now you can probably understand my initial hesitance in making the pilgrimage. There is no stopover on the trip. You travel the long distance, attend the event, and immediately travel back home after the event. Not only is there no lodging in the area that could accommodate even a tiny fraction of the visitors, but there are very few people who would be able to afford the cost of a room for a night even if there were.
Once Kathy and I made up our minds that we were both going, the next decision was who to travel with. Kathy and I belong to different parishes. Kathy lives on the island of Mombasa and I live on the mainland, which is over the causeway from the island. As each parish was responsible for making its own travel arrangements, the busses from each parish were leaving at different times. Neither of us wanted to leave early on Friday. It made no sense to us to arrive in Subukia on Friday night and then have to spend the night in the bus there. Kathy’s ministry is at St. Patrick’s Dispensary, which is located in the Bangaladesh slum. The dispensary is part of St. Patrick’s parish, which was built and is run by the Kiltegan Fathers, a missionary society based in Ireland, who Maryknoll has known and worked with in Mombasa for a number of years. The bus from St. Patrick’s was scheduled to leave at 2 PM, which sounded much better than 8 AM to us, so Kathy and I decided to go this route. We paid our fees and made our reservation.
About four days before the event, we are told that the bus is now leaving at 8 AM. The archdiocese wants all the busses from Mombasa to form a caravan and drive up together. It didn’t sound too practical to us. Can you imagine a caravan of busses travelling 450 miles together? Additionally, the whole reason we chose to leave from St. Patrick’s is because their bus was leaving at 2 PM. If we knew that we were leaving early in the morning, we could have left from one of our own parishes, slept at one or the other’s house and walked to the church to catch the bus as both of us live within very short walking distances to our parishes. Now we both would have to travel to St. Patrick’s in the morning to catch the bus. As I’ve written about many times in the past, commuting here is not fun, especially during peak hours. In Kenya, you just have to go with the flow.
A few days later, which is now just two days before the trip, we are told that the bus is now leaving at 11 AM, not 8 AM. As it turned out, the cost of the trip, which was the equivalent of about $40, was too much for many of the parishioners. As I mentioned early, St. Patrick’s serves the residents of the Bangala slum. The parish also has an outstation church, St. Francis of Assisi, which is not too far away, located in another slum called Kibarani. A number of parishioners form Kibarani were also traveling on the bus. This is a huge amount of money for them and a big financial sacrifice, if they can afford to go at all. Given this, the parish decided to swap out the bus and reduce the cost of the trip. We were originally supposed to travel in a coach bus, but now we would instead use a school bus. This would obviously not have been my first choice, but I certainly wanted people who wanted to make the pilgrimage to be able to go. The good news is that we got half the cost of the original trip back, but we would pay for it later in other ways.
Kathy and I decided to meet at St. Patrick’s at 10:30 AM on Friday. When I arrived at about 10:15 AM, Kathy was already there. Fr. Nicky invited us to come have tea and juice with him. Before we went up, we decided to put our bags on the bus to reserve our seats. Not surprisingly, although no one was on the bus, there were already bags on most of the seats. The only seats we could find were way in the back, the next to the last row of the bus. Argh!
After spending about 15 minutes with Fr. Nicky, we headed down to board the bus. Fr. Nicky was not going to the National Day of Prayer, but another priest from the parish, Fr. John, a Nigerian priest who works at the parish, was going. When we got down to the bus, we were told that we would sit with Fr. John and were given front row seats right behind the driver. From a comfort point of view, I’m not sure we gained anything, but at least we weren’t in the back of the bus.
The configuration of the bus is the typical school bus layout we are all familiar with – room for two people to sit on one side of the isle and room for three people to sit on the other side. When I say people, I really mean children. This is after all a school bus. There are not separate seats, but one seat that you all share – tight squeeze, no reclining, and no leg room. The bus held about 60 people. Every seat was filled and one person traveled in the stairwell that you use to climb into the bus – only in Kenya. Well maybe not only in Kenya, but certainly not allowed in the U.S. Kathy graciously volunteered to sit between Father and me, although to be honest, I’m not sure any other way would have worked. I took my place against the window (and when I say against, I literally mean against) and we left the aisle seat for Father.
The bus actually left at 11:30 AM. This was a complete shock to both Kathy and me. Nothing here in Kenya ever starts or leaves on time. Waiting an hour for someone to arrive for a meeting is not out of the ordinary (although it really bugs me). Neither of us ever expected us to leave St. Patrick’s before noon. We were told to bring food and drink for the trip as there would be limited places where you could purchase things to eat and drink. Yes, that means food to last from Friday when we left until Sunday morning when we arrived back. As Kathy lives much closer to a supermarket than I do, she graciously offered to pick up food for us to bring. She packed a bag for each of us containing chapati (flatbread), granola bars, dried mangos, peanuts, roasted chickpeas, which were spicy and crispy, water and a juice box. I made a few peanut butter sandwiches and hard-boiled eggs to bring with us, as I knew I would need a little more sustenance, but Kathy wanted no part of those.
We arrived in Subukia at 4 AM on Saturday morning with the trip taking a total of 16.5 hours. We made around five stops along the way to use the restrooms. As it turned out, most of the places we stopped were typical rest areas for travelers, which had small shops where you could buy coffee, tea, soda and snacks. Several of the rest areas even had fast food restaurants – no, no McDonalds, KFC or Subway. The amazing thing to me was that a single driver drove the whole way. I didn’t want to think about that too much. I got a little sleep along the way, but not much. Maybe a few hours total. It was just too uncomfortable for me to sleep. My knees were killing me as there was no way to stretch out your legs further than a ninety-degree angle. I had to keep standing up to relieve the pain, as did Kathy. Father had the aisle, so he could put his legs out a little that way if he needed to. Plus, he is younger than Kathy and me. Kathy and Father may have fared a little better than me in the sleep department, but I don’t think much.
One item of note about the trip. This was the first time I ever felt cold since arriving in Kenya. In Mombasa, I never wear a long sleeve shirt or jacket and never sleep with a sheet on top of me. We were told and I knew that it would be somewhat cold as we were traveling up country into the higher elevations. But I’m thinking, people in Mombasa wear sweatshirts, jackets, and even hats, when I’m perfectly fine in short sleeves. I’m from New England after all. So, for the trip, all I brought with me for warmth was a long sleeve t-shirt and a rain jacket. Once we got out of Mombasa, we had to shut the windows on the bus and I was fine during the ride. However, I have to admit, it was a little chilly when we got out of the bus at the rest stops. I checked my phone and the temperature was about 57 degrees F. OK, not exactly bone chilling cold. Maybe my blood has thinned living in the heat and humidity of Mombasa. Kathy also thought it felt colder than 57.
We arrived at the shrine in Subukia in the pitch dark at about 4 AM on Saturday morning. There were hundreds of busses parked in a large field near the shrine. Some people were walking around, I could see people on other busses, and some busses were completely dark – either everyone was asleep or else everyone left the bus. Other busses continued to arrive after we did and this continued all morning. There were no facilities, no water, no food, no place to wash. Just the busses. It was kind of like camping.
Some people on our bus, about half the bus, got off as soon as we arrived. Kathy and I stayed on the bus and managed to sleep a little more than 2 hours. We got up about 6:30 AM, ate, bushed our teeth and headed out around 7 AM. Kathy and I walked around the grounds of the shrine for about 2.5 hours. As I mentioned earlier, the grounds are very beautiful with awesome views. The focal point of the Day of Prayer was a large, outdoor Mass with the tens of thousands of people who attended. The Mass was supposed to start at 10 AM, but actually started at 9:45 AM. A pleasant surprise, definitely not Kenyan time.
We found out later, that the people who got off the bus when we arrived in Subukia at 4 AM, walked for two hours to a spring to collect holy water. They didn’t get back to the bus until around 8 PM, after we had left. We had no idea where they were going at 4 AM. The people who went to the stream claimed that they had to navigate hard, hilly terrain to get there. The spring water is believed to have miraculous powers. These people all returned with jerrycans now filled with holy water to carry home.
Bishop Martin Kivuva, my bishop, the Archbishop of Mombasa, was the main celebrant for the Mass. Mass lasted three hours. The theme of the Day of Prayer, the Mass, and the bishop’s homily was Baptized and Sent. Another way of saying this, which was used in some of the literature for the event, is Proclaim and Witness. Pope Francis has designated October as Mission Month, whose purpose is to focus on missionary outreach, and the theme of the Prayer Day echoed that of the Mission Month. As the pope tells us, we all have an obligation to share the Gospel. We are all sent by virtue of our baptism. Everyone may not be called to evangelize with words or to work in foreign missions. However, everyone is obliged to share the Good News through our witness and welcome. We are called to proclaim and witness in the everyday goings on of our lives and in how we love our neighbor.
The Mass concluded with almost an hour of speeches on corruption. Corruption is such a big issue in Kenya. The Catholic bishops call corruption the greatest challenge facing Kenyans and say that Kenya is doomed unless corruption is rooted out. They bishops accuse the state of failure to properly address this most important of issue and that cases of corruption are worsening, denying Kenyans basic public services such as health, education, and transport. In his homily, the bishop went so far as to say that although most Kenyans decry corruption, many when presented the opportunity, will choose the wrong path. Like all social evils, we all play a part. The onus is on each one of us to reflect on ourselves and our actions first. We all must be agents of fighting corruption, but it begins with each and every one of us. As a sign of their humility in seeking God’s mercy and in solidarity with those who have suffered and continue to suffer the dehumanizing effects of corruption, the bishops removed their shoes and walked barefoot.
Our bus left Subukia at 3 PM on Saturday afternoon. Not surprisingly, with all those busses leaving at the same time, there was a big traffic jam getting out. We arrived back at St. Patrick’s at around 9 AM on Sunday morning, making our return trip about 18 hours. As we stopped fewer times on the way home than on the way to Subukia, I think most of the additional time it took to get home was due to the fact that it took such a long time to get out of the traffic leaving the shrine. We didn’t really stop for dinner on the way home until after midnight. Luckily Kathy and I had plenty of snacks. The rest area that we stopped at around midnight had a sort of fast food restaurant. The problem was that the prices at the food place were a little expensive for the people on the bus. So about twenty of them decided to go on foot in search of cheaper food. Kathy and I asked each other where could they possibly find food to eat at this time of night as there appeared to be nothing else around. I don’t know exactly where they went, but apparently, they found a place and returned content and ready to proceed on the journey home.
Although I wasn’t really looking forward to the bus ride to and from Subukia, I’m really glad that I went. I had a really good time, I got to spend time with Kathy, and I got to see the beautiful shrine. However, most of all, as I have other times I’ve done things like this in the US (like going to Philadelphia in 2015 to see Pope Francis when he visited and said Mass for the two million people in attendance), I got to experience the universality of the Church. I’ve always loved parish life and being part of a parish. For me, that is the heart of the Church. However, every once in a while, it’s wonderful to see the bigger Church, which in its totality is the mystical Body of Christ.
As I mentioned early, St. Patrick’s has an outstation church, St. Francis of Assisi, in the Kibarani slum. Fr. John was scheduled to celebrate the 9 AM Mass there. Obviously, we didn’t make it back in time for him to do that, so they just told everyone that the Mass would now be at 10 AM instead. In Kenya, this is no big deal. People just stayed in the church and waited. The choir practiced, some people prayed, the children practiced their dancing for the offertory procession. Could you imagine showing up to Mass at a church in the US and being informed that the Mass had been delayed for an hour?
When we arrived at St. Patrick’s, they asked us if we would like to attend the Mass as the bus would drop people off there on its way back to the school where the bus came from. Even though we had been on the bus for 18 hours and I had been in the same clothes since Friday morning (luckily the weather was cool and I didn’t sweat at all the whole trip), I told Fr. John that I would like to go. I had not been to the new outstation church yet and since Fr. John was celebrating the Mass, I thought this was as good a time as any. I guess I had gotten my second wind. Fr. John had time to go into St. Patrick’s and wash up before Mass. He would drive over to Kibarani separately. There were only a few people on the trip who opted to come to the Mass. Kathy decided to go home, shower and attend the late Mass at her parish that evening. As the bus belonged to a school very close to where she lives, she was able to get a ride home on the bus.
When I arrived at the Kibarani church, the parishioners were so nice. They wanted to make sure I was taken care of as they knew I had just returned from Subukia. They offered me tea/chai, but I really didn’t want anything. I went into the church, found a spot in the back as I really wished I had the opportunity to take a shower beforehand, and sat down. While waiting for Mass to start, I not only got to reflect on our trip to Subukia, but also got to see how much the parishioners love their church as I observed all the things going on around me. I thought about how much sacrifice it took for all the people on the bus to make the trip to Subukia. It was as uncomfortable for them as it was for me. Even though the price of the trip was reduced, I’m sure the cost of going was a financial hardship for most of them. I’m sure many of them had to skip work and be away from family to travel to Subukia. Yet they came. And they sang and prayed. And they bore witness to the Good News. Everyone still needs to do their own part in their everyday lives, but hopefully others witness this event and see the love and commitment to ending corruption in Kenya that was on display by so many this day.
At the end of the Mass, Father called me up to tell everyone about myself. After introducing myself, giving a little background and talking about my ministry helping orphans pursue education, I tried to tie back my living and ministry in Mombasa to Fr. John’s homily, which focused on faith, which was the primary theme of the day’s readings. I told the congregation that I came to Kenya not knowing what I was getting into. Now that I’m here I feel that the needs are overwhelming and the problems insurmountable. I don’t even know where to start to make a difference. What can I do? Although I know that I’m useless on my own, I trust that the Lord will provide all that I need. I trust that if I sprinkle the seeds the Lord will do the rest.
As Fr. John said in his homily, you have to have faith. But what is faith. St. Paul tells us that “Faith is the realization of what is hoped for and evidence of things not seen.” (Hebrews 11:1) To me, faith and hope go hand in hand. There seems to be a lot of overlap. But perhaps, in one respect, faith is a starting point. Faith is the initial leap you have to take. However, I don’t think that’s all there is to it. Something I need to read and reflect on more. In any case, I can easily relate to Habakkuk in the first reading when he says “How long, O LORD? I cry for help but you do not listen!” (Habakkuk 1:2) How many of us have been there? But God answers Habakkuk, “For the vision still has its time, presses on to fulfillment, and will not disappoint; if it delays, wait for it, it will surely come, it will not be late.” (Habakkuk 1:2) This is the faith and trust part. If we had all the answers, could see into the future and see how everything works out in the long run, we wouldn’t need faith. Rather the Lord asks us to trust in Him and look at things through the eyes of faith. We need to trust in God and believe that in the end that everything works out for good. God will not disappoint. He answers all our prayers, but in light of what is truly best for us and at the right time. Wait, for it will surely come. This reminds me of the passage from Isaiah, where the Lord says “So shall my word be that goes forth from my mouth; It shall not return to me empty, but shall do what pleases me, achieving the end for which I sent it.” This is faith. Believe that the word of God does not return to him empty, but achieves the end for which it was sent. Believe this also about yourself. As theme of the Prayer Day and Mission Month states, we are sent. Believe and trust that you were sent. Believe that you were loved into being for a unique and individual purpose in God’s plan of salvation. Believe that God will not allow you to return to him empty handed, but rather he will shower you with graces to achieve the purpose for which he created and sent you. Does this automatic happen? No. God respects our free will and wills our cooperation. However, it we have faith and trust, He will give us all that we need to accomplish his will.
As I said in my reflection at the end of Mass, things can seem overwhelming and impossible. However, as Jesus tells us in the Gospel reading, “If you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you would say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.” (Luke 17:5-10) God has given us great gifts. We just need to believe and trust in him. Not easy, but there for us if we take the leap of faith.
After Mass, Fr. John drove me home. The next day, on Monday morning, we had our first Monday of the month Pastoral Center Mass and meeting. We learned that the Archdiocese sent 115 busses consisting of about 7000 people. Three buses broke down along the way and didn’t make it to Sabukia. One bus got in an accident, but no one was seriously injured. The Lord was with us.
After the meeting, since I was already in town and Monday is usually my day off, I went food shopping in one of the several supermarkets in the area. I was having my vegetables and fruits weighed – in Kenya a store employee does this at a separate station in the produce section before you head over to a checkout line. As I was standing there, a man using a cane walked up holding a few cucumbers. As I had a number of items left, I told the person weighing my fruits and vegetables to take care of the man first. As his cucumbers were being weighed, his wife came over and they asked if I were the one who spoke at the Mass at St. Francis of Assisi in Kibarani the day before. Small world.
Mungu ni mwema. (God is good.)
I confess that I don’t always read your blog posts, but each time I do I think to myself, “He’s having quite the experience.”
I hope that your faith is rewarded. Unfortunately, not every aspiration comes to a happy ending but perhaps even within the disappointment there is a measure of grace. While I have faith that God makes all things work together for good, I think God’s “timeline” sometimes extends much further into the future than a typical human lifespan. Still, we go on. In faith.