“Let my prayer rise like incense before you, my raised hands like the evening sacrifice”

(Ps 141)

A formation course for new governments held in Tunisia became an occasion for the meeting of persons, of a culture, of a particular missionary style. The days spent in Tunisia were for me a time of grace: amid moments of formation, shared fraternity and unexpected encounters, I discovered a mission land different from the one I knew, capable of profoundly enriching my missionary life.

It all began with a smile. In the diocesan house in Tunis, a lady in charge of cleaning asked me my name. I answered “Djebba”, but she understood “Djerba” — and however much I repeated it, she continued to call me that. In the end, amid laughter, I gladly accepted the new name that accompanied me every day thereafter. From that small misunderstanding was born a friendship.

It is precisely such encounters, even the most casual ones, that change our way of seeing reality. They made me understand that being missionaries means, above all, being a presence in simplicity, like a lamp that is lit.

A fragile and luminous presence

Sharing daily life with our sisters, with the PIME Fathers and with the many persons met along the way, I grasped an image that has remained impressed upon me: mission here is like the smoke of incense, a fragile presence that disperses into the air, yet leaves behind it a fragrance that lasts long.

It is the image of a minority Christian community, simple, made up of believers who are rooted and conscious of the daily sacrifices needed to safeguard their identity of faith. And yet, beyond everything, what I breathed in was an air of communion and fraternity.

The Church in Tunisia appeared to me as a single family, where everyone knows one another. After the celebrations, people gladly stop to greet one another, to ask after one another, to welcome whoever is passing through — so much so that several persons, noticing that I was new, asked me if I had been transferred there. On Pentecost Sunday, I was present at the baptism of a little girl: it was moving to see the joy of the whole community gathering around her and her family.

A flower in the desert

In the South, at Gabès, I lived through a novel experience: I took part in the Mass as the sole faithful, together with two Fathers. During the week the students are not present, but the Fathers continue to celebrate daily, with joy and constancy. That eucharistic presence touched me deeply. Like a flower in the desert, the Eucharist makes its beauty shine forth even in arid contexts, it endures and continues to be a source of life. To think of missionary life as a true eucharistic presence is a challenge, but also a reality to be lived out each day.

The landscape, too, spoke to me of God. Thanks to the PIME missionaries, I saw the oases in the midst of the desert: in places so arid, water springs forth among the rocks and makes palms and dates blossom. A refrain kept coming back to my mind: “The Spirit of Christ makes the desert blossom, life returns…”. And I admired the resilience of those who live in that very harsh climate, adapting not merely to survive, but to live fully — as the traditional Berber houses bear witness, and above all, the warm hospitality of the woman who hosted us.

In Tunis, then, how could one forget Sidi Bou Saïd with its legendary blue doors? In the souk of the Medina, an impromptu guide explained to us the meaning of the colours: green, sacred to Islam, a symbol of Paradise and of the hope of eternal life; ochre yellow, the colour beloved of God; blue, symbol of the sky and the sea, which protects the houses; white, a sign of purity, peace and light.

With our sisters, alongside the women

The time spent with our sisters, engaged in Caritas work alongside the women, was one of the most beautiful gifts. I saw women who had arrived inwardly broken rebuild themselves little by little, thanks to the help received, weaving relationships that sustain them in their growth and learning a trade useful for their self-reliance.

I was edified by the bond that the sisters cultivate with families: when Sister Rekha took me to visit one of them, I was welcomed warmly even though I was a stranger to them. I also had the unexpected joy of meeting the Ambassador of Cameroon and his wife, who hail from my own village: a precious moment of memories and of sharing about the situation of Cameroonian migrants and students.

Another detail struck me: even without visible religious signs, in the streets and at the market many people greeted us with a “bonjour, ma sœur…”, as though they had known us forever. I wondered how they managed to recognise us with such spontaneity.

Thanksgiving

What edified me most was the community atmosphere: simple yet warm, made up of mutual help, silent welcome and spontaneous collaboration.

I thank the Lord for this opportunity, and with Him, the sisters of the Algeria-Tunisia Delegation — in particular the community of Tunis —, the PIME Missionaries and all the persons I met, Christians and Muslims. To all of them I promise to offer to God my prayer like incense. May Our Lady of Africa intercede for all of us and for the Muslims, as our sisters and the missionaries of Algeria and Tunisia invoke her every day!

Sr. Suzanne Djebba, General Direction