Misyon

By Arlenne Villahermosa

Arlenne, from Talisay City, Cebu, has worked as a Columban lay missionary in Korea after which she served a term as coordinator of our lay missionaries in the Philippines. She is now in Myanmar (Burma), a country with which the Columbans have had ties since 1936.

‘Arlenne’, with a prolonged hold on the second syllable, was the way people at home called me when I was a child in order for me to do something. And then it was followed by ‘Marika’ (Come here) if it was my mother who called or ‘Dali diri’ (Come here) if somebody else. I would answer immediately saying, ‘O,’ which meant ‘Yes’, and then went to the person who called me.

Being an obedient child, I always followed what I was asked to do, sometimes willingly, and other times not so willingly.

This was one of my earliest memories of being called as I am, by my name.

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www.misyononline.com
Sept-Oct 2009 Issue

By Joy Rile

The author is editorial assistant of Misyon and interviewed Serafina when she visited us in Bacolod recently.

Serafina Vuda is a 46-year-old Columban Lay Missionary from Fiji.  She was on mission in Chile from 1997 to 2000 and in Peru from 2001 to 2007.  She came to the Philippines last May to take a course in Family Ministry at Ateneo de Manila but had to stop after one semester due to her being elected Coordinator of the Lay Missionary Central Leadership Team (LMCLT), taking office last January.

Way back then, brought up in a traditional Catholic family in a Columban parish, she became a teacher in a Columban parochial primary school for seven years, and taught at a school run by Missionary Sisters of the Society of Mary (SMSM) for four years. She was a sportswoman and once represented her country in an international netball competition.  Her life then was divided between sports and teaching.

Serafina liked sports, going out with friends, had a boyfriend, but found something more meaningful in lay mission.

She describes the Church in Fiji as ‘conservative, solemn, orderly, well respected and more religious orientated’.  Since the arrival of the first Marist Missionaries from France in 1884, all activities were under the care of the religious.  Although there are active parishioners, the laity still rely very much on the priests and religious as resource people to help them with their faith.  ‘But thanks to the Columban Fathers for promoting the missionary dimension of the Fijian Church by sending lay people to cross borders, boundaries, cultures, countries and languages in order to bring the Good News to others.’

Serafina was really attracted to the life lived by the Columban Fathers in Fiji: their simplicity and their closeness to people, as they always had time to talk to them.  They were human and liberal.  The needs of the people were very important to them.  Their commitment, love and dedication to mission really drew her to missionary life.  ‘Their Columban charism is indeed contagious.  Working closely with the Columban missionaries deepened my self-awareness, faith, and sense of commitment to mission.  Those Columban missionaries all shared in the people’s lives, joys and sorrows.’

One day while Serafina was still teaching in Stella Maris School, she met Sister Stella SMSM, then suffering from leukemia, who was out strolling with her dog. Sister asked her, ‘What do you plan to do with your life?’  Serafina answered, ‘To go and teach in the mountain villages’.  But the next question really struck her, ‘Have you ever thought about people in other parts of the world who may not know Jesus?’  Serafina was not able to respond but took it into her heart and pondered on it. After two weeks, just before Sister Stella died, Serafina told her, ‘Thank you and pray for us when you are with Jesus.”  Sister uttered ‘I will.’  As she jokingly says, Sister Stella is to be ‘blamed’ for her becoming a lay missionary.

Basically, she realized that we don’t have to be religious sisters or brothers in order to commit our lives in the service of the Church.  As lay persons, we can be such by being one with the laity.  ‘I simply would want to be identified with the people, to be one of them.’

There are three things that summarize her way of serving as a lay missionary:  
1.    active presence by listening and responding to the needs of the people;
2.    witnessing to the Gospel by taking on Jesus’ attitudes of love, compassion and forgiveness;
3.    service to the local church by promoting the participation of lay people there and also overseas as Columban lay missionaries.

Of all her missionary experiences, the one that truly marked her heart was when she was still starting her mission in Peru.  She was to choose one among the twelve chapels of the parish she was assigned to.  Walking around to see them, she chose the one made of thatched bamboo.  It seemed to be falling apart but entering into it she saw a picture of the Sacred Heart of Jesus that captured her heart.  She started visiting the place regularly and getting to know the people.  

She learned of a family of six whose single mom left to look for work then came home drunk and beat the children.  One daughter ran away from home.  Christian, an 11-year-old son, living in the same congested and unhygienic shelter, studied in the afternoons but after some time gave it up since he had to take care of his three siblings while his mother was away. Serafina asked him one day what he would like to be.  Christian answered he wanted to be a lawyer because he wanted to fight for people’s rights, persons like his mother.  Serafina often saw him washing, cooking for his siblings and taking care of them.

Days after his First Holy Communion, he disappeared from home.  He was found by the police walking.  When asked about his background, he simply answered that he knew nothing. So he was brought to an orphanage. When Serafina visited him one day, he told her that nobody knew what he had been going through while left to take care of his siblings and being beaten up by his mom when she arrived.

This was one of the stories that really pierced her heart. Back in Fiji, she thought, an 11-year-old is still very much dependent on his parents but here was a boy playing the role of a father. As she reflected, Christian was just one of many kids who are victims of poverty and of broken homes.  If we live to enjoy life, they live just to survive.  

Such experiences brought her to appreciate and value life more seriously; that life is so important.  She became more conscious that there are people living in abundance, while many more are living in nothingness; that we are lucky for we have many things, if not everything.

In accompanying her Christian community in Peru, she underwent many struggles.  Just when she formed a youth group as a response to the need for youth formation, gangsters from other barrios searched for victims at the chapel where they gathered weekly.  The inhabitants of the barrio blamed the presence of the chapel for causing chaos and danger in their place.  A conflict arose between pastoral agents and the neighbors.

In her third year there, Serafina woke up one day to see only the remnants of the chapel. What was left standing was just the huge statue of the Sacred Heart of Jesus.  She shed tears with the people in what she termed ‘this most inhuman and shocking incident’. But the young Peruvian priest decided to continue with the Mass that evening despite what had happened.  It was such a solemn and silent night.  Everybody was so emotional; tears flowed during the readings and hymns.  But what really touched her was when the man beside her said, pointing upwards, ‘Although we don’t have a roof, we still have Him.’

They moved to another corner of the barrio, constructing a new prefabricated chapel. After two years it was burnt down.  That place witness many tears shed in frustration, pain and anger. But Peruvians don’t give up that easily.

Serafina wrote about this experience in The Far East, the Columban magazine in Australia/New Zealand,  with the man’s quote as the title, which touched the generosity of many readers.  Their contributions enabled the people to buy a piece of land. Great as this was, it didn’t end their struggles. But they kept going and now have a sturdier, cemented church.  After what the community has been through, Serafina refers to them as the ‘pilgrim church’.

Being a missionary, Serafina recalled, has changed the way she sees things, a transformation where she sees God moving in all of her experiences. There was a season of pain that led to the season of gain; moments of death but most of all moments of Resurrection.

The big change that has happened to her as a Columban lay missionary is personal growth.  She has developed a deeper self-awareness, an appreciation of people from other cultures, and a deeper relationship with the Mysterious God.

Her faith continues to grow.  But the faith she describes is never full and never complete.  There will always be room for growth, the more she thirsts and hungers for the sacred presence.

Committing herself as a Columban missionary gives Serafina a happy and fulfilling life; her service is life-giving and makes her life joyful in spite of the many challenges.  It is the joy of sharing life and bringing God’s love to other people that makes the missionary experience worthwhile and fulfilling.

Living on mission in a country with people of different cultures is very challenging. ‘The most powerful way of attracting people to the missionary life is to live by example, to be coherent in what I say and what I do. One cannot give what one doesn’t have.  It’s in your own person; it’s the image that you portray. It’s how you are as a person and how you relate to others that touches and changes people’s lives.’

You may email Serafina at fina@columbanosperu.org and Joy at editorialassistant@misyononline.com

www.misyononline.com
July-August 2009

By Fr Joseph Panabang SVD

Our regular readers are more familiar with the author as ‘Joeker Pinoy’. He is from Gaang, a small village in Barangay Dangoy in the municipality of Lubuagan in the landlocked province of Kalinga in northern Luzon. The former province of Kalinga-Apayao became two separate provinces in 1995.

I boarded air-conditioned OA Travel and Tour bus no AS54392H in Accra, capital of Ghana, bound for Techiman on 29 October 2007.

Just a few minutes before we left at 9:45 in the evening, a stocky man in a red T-shirt standing in the center aisle, requested in full confidence all passengers to be silent. Then he started praying so fervently in a plethora of words that I could feel everyone was deeply moved. After a lengthy prayer, he finally ended, looking from the back to the front seats and again from the front to the back seats, obviously expecting donations or ‘love offerings’. Seeing no action, he reluctantly turned toward the door with a rather long face. ‘Did he really intend to pray for us or did he have an ulterior motive?’ I asked myself, thinking that the man had cut a somewhat pathetic figure.

Almost the whole night we were entertained with two video shows interspersed with blaring local music. The first was Abro ne Beyifie (‘Wickedness and Witches/Wizards’). The plot was an interesting confrontation between witches and wizards on one side and good Christians on the other.

Witches and wizards are a favorite and ever-recurring theme in Ghanaian movies. Their existence is almost unchallenged, especially in rural areas. It is perhaps no exaggeration to say that the people’s belief in witches and witchcraft permeates every fiber of their lives. Ghanaian belief in witches is a kind of astral projection, that is, the soul of the person (witch) leaves the body at night and assumes an existence in another sphere to engage in evil activity like harming others, eg, eating their flesh, sucking their blood and poisoning their plants and animals. They believe that the soul that leaves the body at night can assume different forms such as those of a dangerous spitting cobra, a raging bull, a wild antelope, and so on. After doing its evil activity the soul returns again at will to the body.  Some battles are clearly won by the witches and others by the good Christians.

The movie ended in a stalemate, illustrating one of the most quoted Ghanaian proverbs: Obra ye oko (‘Life is war’), meaning life is a continual conflict between good and evil in the world and in ourselves. Perhaps we can add the words of the late Scottish Presbyterian Scripture scholar, William Barclay: ‘Between God and that which is anti–God’. In that sense, practically every individual is a ‘walking civil war’.

As if to show that good takes the upper hand, the second movie, Nyame Nipa (‘Children of God’), was full of lofty religious discourses by a so-called sectarian priest and charismatic leaders with a sure-fire gift of discernment. But once again wizards suddenly intruded, bringing the story to the same ending as the first – an inconclusive outcome and an indecisive ‘victory’ for both.

Just a few kilometers before Techiman, at 5:55 in the morning, a middle-aged woman seated opposite me gently stood up and with eyes closed, hands upraised and heart pounding, suddenly exploded in glorious prayer thanking God for our safety. She was so focused, alive and vibrant that at the end of her prayer, unbounded joy and glory could be seen radiating from her face like marks of victory. Silently and slowly but contentedly she sat back giving no impression of expecting anything material at all in return. ‘Wow, after all, good always wins in the end no matter how the devils may seem to be winning the day’, I quipped.

Both persons who prayed voluntarily started without making the Sign of the Cross, but that’s another story.

You may write Fr Joseph Panabang SVD at PO Box 55, Osonson, ASESEWA, E/R, GHANA.

By Fr Donal O’Keeffe

The author is a Columban from Ireland and has served as superior of the Columbans in Korea. ‘Sou-Hwan’ used by the author here and ‘Suwhan’ used by Father O’Rourke in his poem are anglicized variations of the Korean personal name of the late cardinal.

On Monday 16 February at 6.12pm Cardinal Kim died in St Mary’s Hospital, Seoul. Within an hour the crowds were gathering at the Cathedral to receive the body which arrived at 9.30pm. Beginning that night and during the following three days over 400,000 people filed past the coffin to pay their respects. It was an unprecedented display of affection and respect for the man they called the ‘kun orun’ (literally the ‘great elder’). People of all religious persuasions, young and old alike, came to see him for the last time. The cathedral was full and the church yard was overflowing for the funeral on the Friday the 21st which was broadcast live on all the networks.     

Kim Sou-Hwan (Stephen) was born in May 1922 in Taegu in the province of Kyongsangdo to a fervent Catholic family. His grandfather Kim Bo-hyun (John) was arrested and martyred in Seoul in 1868 during the last persecution of Christians in Korea. His grandmother was also to be executed with him but was released because she was pregnant. The child born was Kim Young-sok (Joseph) who was to become the father of Kim Sou-hwan. Following his elder brother the future cardinal entered the minor seminary in 1933, the year the Columbans came to Korea. He was ordained in 1951 and in 1966 was appointed bishop of Masan - a small rural diocese. He was the youngest bishop in the country when appointed Archbishop of Seoul in April 1967 and was made a cardinal the following year by Pope Paul VI. In his own words the appointment was as ‘a bolt of lightning from a clear sky’ – totally unexpected. In his homily at the Mass of installation he set out his vision of a church for the people, especially the marginalized. Faithful to his word he began to speak out on issues of Justice. His Christmas Mass of 1971 was abruptly cut off the air when he criticized the government.

But he would not be silenced. During the following decades Cardinal Kim became the conscience of the nation and Myongdong Cathedral became synonymous with the struggle for freedom. But it was his actions which spoke louder than his words. In 1986 when Seoul city evicted people to make room for a new development in preparation for the 1988 Olympics the cardinal invited the families to live in the cathedral grounds. He set up two huge tents and there, in the heart of the business and tourist centre of Seoul, those families lived with meals being cooked in the church yard and children playing around the entrance to the cathedral. This continued for months until a settlement was negotiated.

In June 1987 students took refuge in the grounds after a rally for democracy and the police threatened to come in and arrest them. But the cardinal told the government: ‘If you come in you will first have to trample over me, then the priests, then the sisters and only then will you take the students’. Cardinal Kim was truly the voice of the people.

He was also a great friend of the Columbans. He was a young student in the minor seminary in Taegu when the Columbans first came to Korea in 1933 and stayed there for six months. I recall him sharing with us that he remembered ‘the foreign priests playing football in their cassocks’. In his book he mentions the inspiration of the Shilimdong ‘house of love’ where Columbans had moved in to work with the poor in a new way. He was always thankful to the Columbans for building so many parish communities in Seoul in the 1970s and 1980s when people were pouring in from the countryside.

The impact of Cardinal Kim was not confined to Korea. He was an influential church figure in Asia and one of the driving forces behind the establishment of the Federation of Asian Bishops Conferences (FABC). Cardinal Kim was one of four Asian cardinals who traveled to Rome to meet with Pope Paul VI to discuss the initiative. The result was formal recognition in 1972 despite misgivings by the Curia who were nervous of regional bishops’ organizations because of their experience with CELAM (the Latin American Bishops’ Conference).

In the days following his death, like people all over the country, we were sharing our memories, our stories of the man. Everyone seemed to have their favorite story. My own goes back to 1977 when I was a student at language school. That year the Brothers of Charity came to Korea at the invitation of the cardinal. So when trying to decide where they would establish their house they sought the advice of the cardinal. He suggested that they visit different parishes and inquire if they were any destitute persons living in the area. However, everywhere they went the reply was similar – ‘There are poor people but no one destitute or living rough - there might be people like that in India or the Philippines but not here’.

More than a little downhearted, they returned to Myongdong and told their story to the cardinal. He just asked them to meet him the following morning at dawn in front of the cathedral. When they arrived he was waiting for them dressed in civilian clothes and wearing a baseball cap. They set off together on a city bus until they came to a dried-out riverbed. Following the cardinal they got off and went down and, under a bridge, they came across a group of men sleeping rough.  After a simple greeting they went back up on the road and continued on their journey. That morning the cardinal brought them to some other similar places and on the way back to the cathedral he told them, ‘Do not believe those who tell you that we don’t have destitute people in Korea. They just do not know’.  That happened 32 years ago but for me it sums up the man – he was always in contact with the marginalized and reaching out to them.

After retirement in 1998 he set up his own home page and responded personally to all who wrote to him. Children knew him as ‘Grandfather’ – he always answered their mail. His last act was to donate his eyes. That gesture really touched many people. In fact in the aftermath of his death organ donation rates have soared thirty-fold in Korea. Then his funeral was so simple – his request that there would be nothing ostentatious was respected – to the degree that even the wreath sent by the president was returned with thanks.  

Korea is now mourning the death of a great citizen and the Church mourns the passing of a pastor and a prophet. And yet as I witnessed the genuine grief, the mourning and the funeral, I had an uneasy feeling that the process of domesticating the memory of the Cardinal was already beginning. In the funeral homily the focus was on the love practiced by him, how thankful he was to everyone, in particular the people who were around them in his last days. All churches in Seoul archdiocese now have banners over the entrances containing a photograph of the cardinal and the words ‘Thank you, let us love each other’. But the cardinal always spelt out the concrete meaning of love. He named the issue of the day, be it the rights of workers, or the rights of people to housing. He never flinched from mentioning the word ‘justice’ or identifying who was marginalized and spelling out the root causes of marginalization. But such prophetic proclamation is noticeably absent today. The old axiom comes to mind: ‘The one who controls the present controls the past, and the one who controls the past controls the future’. As always, the challenge to each of us is that we strive to be genuinely faithful to ‘the dangerous memory’.

You may write the author at: St Columban’s. CPO Box 1167, SEOUL 100-611, KOREA or email him at okeeffe.donal@gmail.com

http://www.cardinalrating.com/cardinal_126.htm

www.misyononline.com
July-August 2009

By Cecille Muhal

The author is the eldest of four sisters and graduated in 2006 from University of St La Salle-Bacolod with a degree in nursing. She is currently working as a nurse in the Operating Room, Delivery Room and Nursery Room of Mactan Doctors' Hospital in Lapu-lapu City, Cebu.

As I was only two at the time, I have only vague memories of my father being imprisoned together with eight other members of the ‘Negros Nine’ due to false accusations. Ironically however, they were happy ones, maybe because my parents made great efforts to be optimistic and hopeful amidst the situation. So, even if I did not fully understand, I felt everything would be fine.

While my father stayed in jail, my mother left my younger sister in the care of my grandparents while I lived in the home of a close family friend. Each visit to the jail was a reunion for my family, like a vacation to be looked forward to.

There was a time when I got to stay in the jail for almost a week, though I didn’t know why I was allowed to, and experience life in prison first-hand. My father and I would sleep in a small wooden bed at the corner of the cell where walls were covered with newspapers. There was a small bedside table with some reading materials. Our clothes were inside a bag placed under the bed. In the morning, we would share the food rationed by the jail management and my father would help me take a bath in a small comfort room-cum-washing area. Then, he would let me play or have a chat with other prisoners, guards, vendors and visitors. I made a lot of friends and even got a miniature boat place inside a bottle with the inscription M/V Cecilia from one of the prisoners as a souvenir.

Tatay would tell stories for me to sleep at night and having a bed was a little ‘luxury’ as others had only a banig (local woven mat) on the floor on which to sleep. When people came to visit, my father would ask me to sing and dance for them, which I enjoyed very much. My uncle even bought a cassette player for a greater effect. I even get a prize if lucky. Sundays were special too as Mass is celebrated in the open grounds of the jail. I get to mingle with a lot of prisoners and their visiting families and it brought me into a deep connection with them and their predicament. In fact, when I was an undergraduate in BS Nursing, our group made a descriptive study on the common health problems and medical services available among the inmates of Negros Occidental Provincial Jail in Bacolod City, the same jail where my father had been imprisoned. I believe that medical attention should be given even to the outcasts of society, and not only within the confines of the hospital. I hope that our collected recommendations were taken into consideration by the jail’s management.

The experience of being locked in the cell made me realize and appreciate the value of freedom and how every visit of a loved one or of a friend was treasured, how every word of encouragement brought hope, how food being shared gave strength to face yet another day of the battle for justice for the lives of those in prison. It also made me and my family stronger. The separation and struggles made us closer and helped us value the times we spent together.

The things my father fought for and the principles he believed in still remain these many years after his release and that of his companions with the institution of Negros Nine Human Development Foundation, Inc. headed by Father Brian Gore together with the remaining living members of the Negros Nine and others who believe in their ideals.

Though my father left us early due to cancer in 1990, I get to see how he lived through the stories of people whose lives he touched and whom he inspired. I can never be more proud of being his daughter and a ‘Negros Nine baby’.

You may email the author at cecille_muhal@yahoo.com

www.misyononline.com
July-August 2009

By Nomy T. Muhal

Mrs Muhal is principal of Magballo Catholic High School, Kabankalan City, Negros Occidental.

On 10 March 1982 news broke about the murder of Mayor Pablo Sola of Kabankalan in an ambush. Many rumors were heard but we didn’t expect that three priests and six lay leaders actively involved in the building of Basic Christian Communities, Kristianong Katilingban, would be accused.

At first, I didn’t bother, for I knew my husband Conrado and the priests weren’t responsible for such a crime but I was surprised when a group of uniformed military men arrived and surrounded our house. Captain Tortosa, their leader, came near our door and asked where my husband was. It happened that he wasn’t at home and thus after a while the group went away. That day was the beginning of our sleepless nights for we didn’t know what would happen next. Everyday thereafter military men were seen in the vicinity which led us a sense of chaos. Fear was every where. I wasn’t certain whether we would still be alive next day.
I had two children at that time, Cecille, two years and two months, and Ellainne, three months old. Though I was young then, what was on my mind was, ‘I know God is with us, for what we are doing is for the good of His people’.

It was 6 May, the feast of San Isidro, patron of Inapoy, part of the chaplaincy of Tabugon where Fr Niall O’Brien was assigned, and Father Gore, the six lay leaders and company attended the celebration. When my husband told me that they were going to Inapoy, I told him to take the necessary precautions, for news of impending arrests because of ambush was already being heard. My concern was not so much at the possibility of losing a husband but rather because of our children, still so small.

Information reached us early that afternoon of the arrest of Fathers O’Brien and Gore and of Conrado and the other five lay leaders at Inapoy and that they had been brought to the headquarters of the Philippine Constabulary (PC) in Kabankalan. Wives and other members of the community panicked but later decided to go to Kabankalan. Since my parents were residing in Oringao, a barrio of Kabankalan, I left my children with them. When we arrived at the PC headquarters we found many priests there and we had discussions with them about what we should do. This in a way consoled us but fear engulfed me, knowing that many church workers had already been ‘salvaged’ (murdered by representatives of the state). The group was later released with Bishop Antonio Y. Fortich of Bacolod asking that they be let out on bail. The day was a holiday and the group were arrested again the following Monday.

A marathon trial was held in Kabankalan and the prisoners transferred to Bacolod where they were imprisoned for twelve months. Many more things happened but I considered them part of the journey towards salvation, towards the Kingdom of God.  As a wife and mother, I considered this a challenge to my faith and my strength. As the Bible says, Count it all joy, my brethren, when you meet various trials, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness (James 1:2-3). It is also through this that we become closer to God. Problems and trials make us weak but it is in our weak moments that we become strong for it is those moments that we remember our God.

I feel and believe that I am stronger now than I was before for I was able to accept wholeheartedly the passing away of my husband four years after The Negros Nine were set free and was able to support and nurture my four daughters. Rizalee and Stephanie were born after my husband came home. I do believe they too have become strong through this experience.

You may contact the author at 0441 Burgos St, Kabankalan City, 6111 Negros Occidental.

www.misyononline.com
July-August 2009 Issue

By Father Brian Gore

Columban Fathers Brian Gore, and Niall O’Brien, along with six lay church-workers were released from jail on 3 July 1984. Fr Vicente Dangan, a priest of the Diocese of Bacolod, had been released some time before that. These men had become known as ‘The Negros Nine’.

In 1983 three priests and six lay workers in Kabankalan, Negros Occidental, were charged with multiple murder. Over the next 14 months of trial and imprisonment they became known worldwide as ‘The Negros Nine’.

These trumped-up charges were meant to stop the work of the Basic Christian Communities (BCC) in which the Nine had been among the forerunners in Negros. The goal of the BCCs or the Kristiyanong Katilingban (KK) was the non-violent transformation of Negros society through total human development.

The Negros Nine have also become a voice for the poor, as encouraged a few years earlier by Pope John Paul II in Bacolod City in 1981 when he said ‘the church should not hesitate to be the voice of those who have no voice’.

The Negros Nine Human Development Foundation, Inc was set up in the year of the Great Jubilee (2000) and bought twelve hectares of titled land in the mountains of Kabankalan at a place called Bantolinao to help the surrounding subsistence farmers, many whom were members of the ‘KKs’ started in the 70s.

Demo Farm

The situation of the farmers continues to deteriorate as their land becomes more and more eroded and unproductive. The poor cannot afford to experiment or take risks in their farming methods as it could mean certain hunger if they failed. The demo farm was set up to show that changes need to be made and that new and better ways are possible. The farmers are being introduced to sustainable methods of agriculture. Not only are these cheaper but because they are organic they are healthier for them and the environment. Sustainable agriculture uses local resources without endangering the needs of future generations.

Even if farmers are able to improve their production they can be at the mercy of the middleman in the selling of their products. The only chance to get a better price is through a cooperative effort. This is especially so if you are in a remote area.

Reforestation

The farm has a good water supply from a natural spring in a small area of forest on the property. In order to protect this valuable resource, forest land surrounding the farm has been acquired by buying the rights of the ‘owners’. This land has been mostly cleared and is not suitable for cultivating. Hardwood indigenous varieties, local to the area, are being planted to build the area into a mini forest of around 50 hectares. This will help prevent erosion, protect the water sources and bring back the native species of plants, birds and animals that have all but disappeared. The members of the co-op are undergoing seminars on agro-forestry and bio-diversity. They are also being encouraged to plant trees in their own farm lots, both for their personal use and for the environment.

The target for this year is to plant 10,000 seedlings. This will be done by the members of the co-op who have undergone training for this purpose. They will also be able to earn some money during the lean months and so help feed their families.

Money for the first part of this project has been given by the Irish Government as they move to meet the Millennium Development Goals set by the United Nations.

Fr Brian Gore is now in charge of San Columbano Mission House in the Diocese of Kabankalan, Negros Occidental. You may email him at fatherbriangore@hotmail.com
www.negrosnine.com

Background on The Negros Nine

You can read more about The Negros Nine on the website of the Negros Nine Development Foundation, Inc if you click on ‘Background’.
There are short extracts from the Australian TV documentary on Father Gore, White Monkey, here.

You can find some audio clips after the death of Fr Niall O’Brien here from RTÉ, Ireland’s national broadcasting service.

www.misyononline.com
July-August 2009 Issue