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Giubileo Nuba Jubilee, Italian and English
Cari Amici,
in ritardo, come al solito, mantengo la promessa di far circolare
fra
tutti i partecipanti al giubileo con i Nuba, e ad altre persone
che so
interessate, i rispettivi indirizzi di e-mail.
Allego anche due articoli, uno in italiano per Nigrizia di
febbraio ed
uno in inglese per il Sunday Nation di Nairobi, gia' pubblicato tre
setitmane fa.
Fate circolare altre notizie, articoli e idee. Se avessi dimenticato
qualcuno per piacere aggiungetelo/la alla lista. Io non trovo solo
l'indirizzo di Giovanni di Torino ma Simone o Carlo gli faranno
avere
copia di questa nota. Agli altri che non sono nella lista (Cathy,
Hector, George, Stephen, Ramadam, Mahanna e Paolino) passo io una
copia su carta.
Cari saluti e un abbraccio
Dear Friends,
late, as usual, I keep the promise of sending to all Nuba jubilee
participants, and to other people I know are interested, all our
e-mail addresses.
I attach also two articles of mine, one in Italian for Nigrizia of
February, and one in English for the Sunday Nation of Nairobi,
already
published three weeks ago.
Put in circulation more news, articles and ideas. Had I forgotten
somebody, add him/her to the list. I do not have the address of
Giovanni from Turin, but Simone or Carlo will give him this note. I
will personally give a hard copy of this note to the others who are
not in the list - Cathy, Hector, George, Stephen, Ramadam,
Mahanna and
Paolino.
Best regards and an embrace.
Kizito
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| __ || ___|/ _ \/ ___\| ___| Fr Renato Kizito Sesana, mccj
| ___|| ___| _ | |___ | ___| kizito@maf.org
|__| |_____|__/ \__\_____/|_____| tel: +254.2.571072 or 576173
mobile tel: +254.72.516836
fax: +254.2.577892
Koinonia Community - Kivuli Centre - P. O. Box 21255 - Nairobi - Kenya
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Un anno fa, lanciando l'idea di un pellegrinaggio di condivisione con
le vittime della guerra sudanese, per riconoscere e venerare in loro il
Cristo sofferente, pensavo che forse una decina di persone sarebbero
state disponibili. Invece ho dovuto a malincuore rifiutare la
partecipazione a molti, e, nonostante cio", lo scorso 21 dicembre ci
siamo trovati in 27 sull'aereo che stava per partire per le Montagne
Nuba: italiani, canadesi, austriaci, tedeschi e keniani.
Il nostro viaggio aveva attirato anche attenzioni non richieste.
L'aereo con i pellegrini e il suo carico di zappe e sementi aveva gia
acceso i motori sulla pista di Loki, da dove in Kenya partono i
soccorsi per la popolazione civile sudanese, quando via radio abbiamo
saputo che proprio in quel momento un aereo governativo stava
bombardando la pista di Kauda che era la nostra destinazione. Altri
segni facevano pensare che qualcuno ci aspettava a Kauda con intenzioni
tutt'altro che positive. Non abbiamo avuto altra scelta che rientrare a
Nairobi e passare il Natale con i bambini di Kivuli, facendo circolare
la voce di aver rinunciato al viaggio. Intanto il governo bambardava
ancora, il 24 dicembre.
Il 27 abbiamo ritentato il viaggio, con successo. I Nuba, che non
desistono facilmente, avevano immaginato che non ci saremmo arresi, e
ci aspettavano. Ed abbiamo incominciato il pellegrinaggio vero,
mettendoci in cammino sul sentiero che da Kauda va a Kerker.
Sono stati giorni di cammino, di preghiera, di gioia condivisa con i
Nuba. La fatica del camminare, la sete, il vento, la terra, il dormire
sotto le stelle, ci hanno messo in contatto non solo con i Nuba, ma
anche con noi stessi. A Kerker avevano organizzato le preghiere
insieme e poi danze e lotte, con i giovani di due etnie che si sono
sfidati in un' arena sabbiosa incorniciata dalle montagne che in questa
stagione sono disseminate di fiori rosa. Soprattutto sono stati giorni
di incontri con persone e giorni di silenzio, favorito dallle lunghe
camminate. Volti di gente che che pur vivendo nella precarieta' piu'
assoluta sa essere forte e tenera, ospitale e col sorriso sempre pronto.
Una sera, al tramonto, mi sono appartato su una roccia da dove lo
sguardo poteva raggiungere una catena di montagne che lentamente
sfumavano nella pianura lontana. Niente faceva pensare alla presenza
della guerra. Ad un certo punto mi sono accorto che c'era accanto a me
un giovane con il mitra a tracolla. Non ha rotto il silenzio se non
quando ha visto che stavo per muovermi. "Padre Kizito, ti ricordi il
mio nome?" mi ha chiesto. Gli ho risposto di si, che mi ricordavo di
aver parlato con lui, Kafi, il giorno prima, quando mi aveva portato
nella sua capanna e fatto conoscere la moglie e i duei figli. Mi ha
detto serio e umile: "Non dimenticarti mai del mio nome, portalo sempre
con te".
Son rimasto senza parole. Mi son ricordato del Dio che ci conosce tutti
per nome. Kafi, affidandomi il suo nome, si affidava a me, sentendosi
troppo umile e povero per poter accedere a Dio in prima persona. A mia
volta mi son sentito portatore di una responsabilita' troppo grande.
Kafi, non ti dimentichero'. Nel tuo sguardo c'era voglia di comunione,
di pace. Mi hai fatto ricordare che se viaggiamo senza riconoscere nei
luoghi e nelle persone la presenza di Dio, il nostro viaggiare non ha
senso. Se ovunque vai non riconosci Dio e il fratello, non hai visto nulla.
Padre Kizito
*****************************************************************************************
There is no better way to spend time than to share it with the people
you love.
On January 1, 2001, I was in the Nuba Mountains, in central Sudan,
celebrating with my Nuba friends the end of the Jubilee year and the
beginning of the third millennium. It wasn't easy to reach the place.
On December 21 I was in an aircraft with twenty-six other people on a
Kenyan airfield not far from the Sudanese border. As we were tightening
our seat belts, ready for takeoff towards the Nuba Mountains, the news
came that a Sudanese government Antonov bomber was unloading its deadly
cargo precisely on our destination. We had no choice but to postpone
the trip. But we tried again. On December 28 we were able to reach our
destination, and stayed until January 1.
In the afternoon of December 31 we spoke with 14-year-old Rashit Adam.
He told us how the night before, not far from where we interviewed him,
he was woken up from a deep sleep by the sound of dogs barking and
muffled conversation from a nearby hut. He knew that meant trouble,
because dogs in this isolated village of the Nuba Mountains only bark
at strangers, and strangers are most likely to be soldiers of the
Sudanese government army.
As Rashit dove under his bed, trembling with fear, a group of soldiers
abducted five people next door. Luckily, they released his neighbours
after stealing their clothing and other possessions. "I was expecting
anything to happen," says Rashit. "They take young people like me,
because they see us as potential rebels."
This was the second time in a few days that Rashit has had to run for
cover. On December 21, while we had to abort our takeoff, the lithe
teenager was sitting under a tree, praying with his friend Abdul and
advising Abdul to turn to God in times of trouble.
Suddenly, a Sudanese government Antonov bomber swooped down low and
dropped nine bombs in the fields surrounding the tree. The boys ran. "I
thought I was going to die," recalls Rashit. "I was praying, God,
please help us and take the Antonov away. Don't let them kill us." The
Antonov returned on the day before Christmas Eve, dropping another 12
bombs that killed two cows and razed farmers' fields.
There is still fear in Rashit's eyes. But he has decided he will not
leave his village. This is his land.
Why did we go to Rashit's village to celebrate the Jubilee?
The idea came to me some time ago in Rome when I was part of a panel
giving a press conference on African issues. A journalist asked:
"Father, how will you celebrate the Jubilee?" I had not given a thought
about it, but the answer came as I started speaking: "The Pope in his
letter on the Jubilee has written that a worthy way to celebrate the
Jubilee Year is to go towards the poor and suffering, who represent
Christ in a special way. So I think I will go to celebrate my Jubilee
with the Nuba, who are victims of all kinds of oppression. I will not
go to preach or to do anything special; I will just go to stay with
them, as a brother among brothers. Sudan is not only a land of war,
slavery, famine and of all kind of injustices. It is also a place where
the suffering, crucified Christ is present in a special way. My jubilee
will want to be a sign of peace, a sign that a different Sudan founded
on justice and respect for human rights is possible.
Some of those present immediately said that they wanted to join me.
Others joined later. That's why we were twenty-seven in our pilgrimage
towards the Nuba: one Canadian, one Austrian, two Kenyans, three
Germans and twenty-one Italians, all eager to share a few days of their
life with the victims of the too long Sudanese civil war.
The initial failure and the difficulties did not deter us. We had a
promise to fulfil with our Nuba friends.
The culmination of our celebration was a Mass, at night, in an open
space. Two fire torches, held by the altar boys, gave enough light
around the improvised altar. Seated on the ground surrounding the altar
were successive circles of children, teenagers and grown-ups, who
created a wall of attentive faces lit by the fire. We heard prayers for
justice and peace. We never heard a single word of hatred from anybody
during the whole trip.
Yet the problems people must face are terribly difficult. "The strategy
of the government is to isolate the area from the outside so that
people cannot know what's going on inside here," SPLA Heiban county
commander Major Mohammed Tutu, a professional soldier with a reputation
of bravery, told us. "They don't want visitors to come and see our
situation. When they isolate us, they can do their own things. Every
year, when there is a big celebration like Christmas, they don't want
people to feel very happy and good in their homes; they bring the plane
and bomb them. They do not want people to celebrate."
Once more, we had proof that the issue is not a conflict between
Muslims and Christians. The two religions coexist peacefully within the
Nuba community; in Kerker the most enthusiastic welcome to our group
was given by a group of elderly Muslims. Mahmoud Jumula, a local
Islamic teacher, recounted how government troops burned and desecrated
a mosque in the village of Kauda three years ago.
"The Khartoum government says the Muslims in SPLA-controlled areas are
Muslims no longer," says Jumula. "They called them 'kufar.' Kufar in
Arabic means somebody who does not believe in God." He says that the
Sudanese government considers Muslims authentic only if they live in
areas controlled by the government.
Instead, the government is using its campaign of Arabization to break
the will of the people, says Yacoub Kaluka, training officer with the
Nuba Relief, Rehabilitation, and Development Organisation (NRRDO).
Kaluka recalls how he was beaten for "behaving like a Nuba" - striking
the drum a certain way, speaking his mother tongue, etc. - when he was
growing up in the 1970s. But this still goes on. "Using this policy the
government tries to cancel the identity of the people," says Kaluka,
who now as a NRRDO officer is part of a campaign to revitalise all
aspects of Nuba culture.
Matta Kuku, an elder of the Catholic community in Kerker, had no doubt
when I asked him the meaning of the Jubilee celebrated with so many
friends coming from so far. "It means that we all belong to the family
of the children of God and we have to go back to this simple truth.
Those who do not understand this are losers. They are fighting and
dying for nothing, they will lose the war and they will lose their
soul. May God have pity of them."