Journey to Africa

by David P O'Regan.

I am often asked the question -- why Africa ? But the first question is why did you  become a priest ? I suppose my first thoughts on the priesthood came with serving Mass in the local Parish Church. We youngsters looked forward to serving on the altar and it was a great day when you first put on that black cassock and surplice. Those were the days of the Latin Mass and many months of preparation made sure we could come out with the proper responses and at the right time. And of course there were so many things to do as well. Moving the missal from one side of the altar to the other; bringing the wine and water to the priest. An important job was holding the paten under the communicant‘s chin while receiving communion

One of the jobs we enjoyed most was accompanying the priests when they went around the countryside to say Mass for the Stations.  (Maybe I should explain what the Stations were. Twice a year the priest went to different town lands of the parish to say Mass and collect the dues. It was looked upon as a great honour to have the Stations come to your house. The host (for the following year) would be announced after the Mass. The house would be painted from top to bottom and every place made spick and span for the great event. ) This was popular because you got a half-day off from school and a good breakfast. If you were lucky the host gave you a half-crown (12 1/2 p) as you left the house. That was a small fortune in those days. Some of the houses were so remote that the priest‘s car could not go all the way to the house and a ‘taxi ‘service was provided by the host. (This was a pony and trap or maybe even a basic horse and cart!)

So this association with the priest and church (or chapel as we called it) put ideas in a young boy‘s head. Most boys aspiring to the priesthood went to Maynooth. This did not come cheap. Students went to Maynooth from the Diocesan Colleges. At that time (1940s) there were many vocations. Only those who could afford the high fees could go to Maynooth. These would usually be sons of farmers. Anyway I somehow had no desire to study for the secular priesthood. My vision was to work on the missions. For some reason I had no desire to go to China and instead set my eyes on Africa. But where? One day after visiting my aunt Ciss who lived only a short distance from our house I saw a small prayer card over the room door. I looked closer and saw it was a prayercard for the Novena to St Therese and there was an address on it. The African Missions, Cork. I wrote off and was accepted without any interview or other meeting.

I was given full information and a list of things I had to get. My destination was a place called Cloughballymore near Kinvara in Galway. This was unknown territory to me. I had been to Cork and on one memorable occasion to Dublin to see an All Ireland Hurling final. I think my first visit to Cork had been on the occasion of the Cork Exhibition (about 1932?). My father and I traveled to Cork by bus and on to the exhibition ground on the Western Road by tram. I remember nothing else of that famous exhibition.

So now I was off to Cork again to buy the black suit, hat, biretta, bible etc. etc. It must have cost my family a lot of money and they didn‘t have a lot of that.  In fact I realized later that I need not have got all the items on the list. A tennis racquet and long white trousers were superfluous for one who had never played tennis!

It must have been the first week in September 1941 that the day arrived for my departure to Cloughballymore (known more commonly as ‘Clough‘.) Public transport not being readily available in those days we hired Jackie Roche (our local ‘taxi service‘). We arrived in the early afternoon and found that I was the first to arrive. The others probably came by train; most of them having previously been in Ballinafad and Wilton (these were preparatory schools) did not arrive until the last moment. Our journey through County Clare and Galway made it clear that that this was an altogether different country. Not so much the green fields of Cork but the stony grounds of the Burren. Those same stones were to provide much of our work during the next two years. We spent a lot of our outdoor work time clearing those rocks away.

Not only was the countryside different but this was a new lifestyle. A regular routine of prayer, lectures and work was to be the order of the day. We had not only the intake of my class but the previous class had spent one year already and of course stayed for the Summer. They had just finished their ‘thirty days‘ retreat (a Jesuit specialty! And not well suited for future priests who were not religious but secular. They had  suffered the loss of some of their classmates. Having a name like mine put me at the end of the line alphabetically. It assigned you your place in class, where you slept etc. We slept in dormitories. I can always remember that opposite me in the dormitory was a redheaded chap with very short sight. This was Bill Power. He was from Youghal and that meant we had something in common (being from the same diocese of Cloyne) and so become friends. In later years we often spent holiday time together. In July the senior class took the Oath (which made them members of the Society of African Missions) and went on holidays.  During that Summer we had a lot of free time until we started our ‘thirty days retreat‘.

STUDY HALL at Clough. I am the one on left with my head down

REFECTORY

img width=332 height=237 src="%20JOURNEY%20TO%20AFRICA_files/image003.jpg">Class group at Clough. Author front near rose bush.

We had to spend two years here at Clough. These two years were spent studying Philosophy. It was also a Novitiate where we were prepared to join the Society of African Missions. After Morning Mass all students had to do housework. This meant sweeping and polishing floors. After that we had breakfast and then studies. Twice a week we had outdoor manual work. Some of this took the form of clearing the many rocks in the local farm. At other times we worked in the gardens to produce our own vegetables. Every Sunday afternoon we had a long walk in the surrounding countryside. During the Summer we would walk about a mile to the seaside. There some went swimming and others went sailing with Father Nicholas Heffernan. He was an enthusiastic sailor.

We now looked forward to the new intake in early September when we would become ‘seniors‘. It also meant that we could look forward to taking the OATH in the following July and become members of the SMA (Society of African Missions). That year seemed to pass quickly and after losing a few more classmates we took the oath on July 1st.1943. It was now off on holidays. I found it very strange living in a ‘normal‘ house again. Everything seemed so small. While I had been away, my father had died. I had not been allowed to go to his funeral. In fact he was dead before I was told he was seriously ill. I could now go to visit his grave and pray for him. I‘m sure he did not need prayers; he had led such a good life. He never missed going to daily Mass; he must surely have been my inspiration. My mother had been left to look after the pub which she hated. My brother had to give up his education when my father became too ill to look after things. My sister Mary worked in the Civil Service in Dublin. But for me it was good to be with my family again. I spent much of that holiday walking around the countryside. It was such a refreshing change from the rocky terrain of South Galway. One of my first trips was to Cork to purchase a bike. With poor public transport and not able to afford a car it would get me around the countryside.

But September came all too quickly. It was packing bags again for the trip northwards. My new home was to be Dromantine near Newry in County Down. There across the border I would begin my studies in Theology. This was to take four years. County Down was a world away from Galway. No stony terrain! Instead the rolling hills of the mountains of Mourne. Dromantine Castle as it used to be called was a beautiful building facing on to a lake. Around the house were beautiful gardens. Much of the grounds were soon to be taken over by American troops. This was wartime sot he grounds became a huge arms dump and the camp was run by black American troops.  They were not considered good enough for front - line duty. How things have changed! We got on well with them although they did not like to be told that we were in training for evangelization work in Africa, the home of their ancestors. That was before the time American black people took pride in their roots in Africa.

In those pre Vatican 2 days the rules were very strict. Every minute and hour of the day was regulated. From the time we got up at 6am until we went to bed at 10 pm we had our minds and bodies fully exercised. The day began with the ringing of an electric bell. In the previous college at Clough this meant getting out of bed as quickly as possible. A rush for the washroom where there were a limited number of washbasins. If you did not get one on the first rush it meant you could be late for chapel. I think we were allowed a shower once a week – a cold one! At least in Dromantine we had individual rooms and so could wash and shave without too much hassle.

The day began with meditation in chapel from 6.30am to 7 am. Masses began at 7 am. No concelebration in those days so there were many Masses going on at the same time at the numerous altars.   

Throughout our four years each class looked forward to receiving the various orders leading up to ordination. Being ordained sub - deacon was a highlight as it was the big step from layman to cleric. We could now wear the clerical collar. When we were ordained Deacon we had a much more relaxing regime. Much time was now spent preparing for the priesthood. I mean by that the practical side like learning the rubrics of the Mass. This great day arrived on June 18th 1947. The long journey was made by car by my mother, my sister Mary, Aunty Ciss, and my Uncle ‘Son‘ (Patrick). The ordination took place in Newry Cathedral. (This was a group of 17 all except one for the SMAs.) Unlike these post Vatican 2 days that was not our first Mass. This took place a day or two later when we got back to our home parishes. As we had a long trip home we broke the journey at Portlaoise where my cousin Sr Cecelia (Mary O‘Sullivan) was a Presentation nun. It was on the third day after ordination that I said my first Mass in St Mary‘s Church, Doneraile where I had been baptized twenty-three years before. My second Mass was at the Presentation Convent where I was to say most of my Masses after that. Visiting priests were not very welcome to say Mass at the Parish Church. At that time every parish had a surplus of priests. If a visiting priest said a Sunday Mass he was not expected to preach. I think they were afraid he might say something that would rock the boat. Now that priests are on the scarce side parishes are often given to religious orders to run. There was great jealousy between the secular clergy and religious at that time. I believe missionary priests were regarded as not quite in the same category as the seculars! Second class priests really.

During those few months while awaiting appointment I was called to spend time at headquarters -- Blackrock Road. I do not recall when I received notification of my appointment to Liberia. Anyway the departure ceremony was a very moving event held in October when family and friends were invited to bid farewell to their departing missionary relations and friends. Due to war conditions still prevailing it was difficult to find transport to Africa. Eventually a ship was found. This was essentially a troopship transporting troops to the Gold Coast (now Ghana). It was to sail from Southampton. The usual port of departure was Liverpool. The ship which was to be our home for the next ten days was called the 'Almanzora'. I think there must have been a dozen or so of us. All were going to Nigeria except me. I was destined for Liberia. Three of my classmates, namely Bill Power, Joe Maguire and Tommy Drummond were going to Nigeria. We sailed from Southampton in January 1948.  Once we had passed the Bay of Biscay with it's usual stormy weather, we enjoyed our sea voyage. Before we reached Las Palmas we changed from clerical black into open necked shirts and slacks. Having obtained an altar box from the Apostleship of the Sea at Liverpool, we were able to celebrate Mass most mornings (weather permitting). Some of the priests were poor sailors and suffered badly from seasickness. In the days before concelebration we had to take turns saying Mass.  Amazingly only two of those (four classmates) at time of writing (January 2004) are dead. Many of the rest of my classmates are either dead or left the priesthood. So it was that our group left Dublin for Liverpool, where we would pick up a trunk of necessary supplies including sun helmets. At that time the SMAs had a house for that purpose in Liverpool. Being a troopship we were not given the freedom of the ship as would be normal. Instead of cabins, most of us were crowded into a 'dormitory'. We soon however settled into a routine. First thing was to arrange where we would celebrate Mass. The Bursar was very helpful in this and sorted out a lounge for us. Of course in those days each priest had to celebrate a separate Mass. Concelebration was not yet allowed!

The first few days were not very pleasant as the sea was rough and some were very seasick. But in a few days the weather improved and began to get warmer. When we got near the Canary Islands (our first stop) we changed into 'tropical gear'. Las Palmas, our first port of call, enabled us to step on land and see the sights. I think our stay was only for one day and soon we were on our way to Africa. Unfortunately we were delayed as one of the shop‘s engines broke down. Nevertheless we soon got our first glimpse of Africa, it was Bathurst - the capital of The Gambia. It was only a short stay and as there was no quay we could not land. On then to Freetown Sierra Leone. This was still part of the Empire. It was to be the parting of the ways for me as this was the nearest I could get to Liberia. I think there were one or two Holy Ghost Fathers getting off here as well as Bishop Kelly . They took me along with them and gave me accommodation.

On board "Almanzora" 1948

FREETOWN; SIERRA LEONE

One of my first trips around Freetown was to visit the grave of Mgr. De Bressillac the founder of the Society of African Missions. His story is told elsewhere. He contracted Yellow Fever and died within a few weeks. I prayed for the success of the mission he founded and hoped I would play my small part. After that I went to the shipping agents to find the first ship going to Monrovia. I found one after about a week. The trip is only about 24 hours. On arrival at Monrovia I was surprised to be met by Bishop John Collins. Since the new harbour was not yet open I would have had to get ashore by surfboat. Not the most comfortable mode of transport. I was lucky. The President had given the Bishop a lift in his yacht -- a large motorboat. This was luxury. I don‘t know how we got to the mission house, as the Bishop had no car. Maybe the President provided that as well. On arrival at the mission house I was met by quite a few priests. The main Mission House at that time was on Ashmun Street. It was at the foot of the hill  leading to the light-house. It was diagonally across from the Government Hospital; a place I was to visit many times. The conditions there were awful. 

                         Sacred Heart Cathedral Monrovia c.1948                                                          

 The priests had been there for their annual retreat, which was followed by a mini-synod. They   had been discussing whether to ask Rome to divide the Vicariate into two. As I was to learn later the decision was made to go ahead. The big problem was what priests were to stay on the Kroo coast and who would transfer to Monrovia. With such small numbers of priests the Bishop was anxious to keep as many priests as possible on the Monrovia side. However all that went over my head as I was new to the situation. Due to the large number of priests in residence I was given accommodation at the convent. This accommodation was not, I hasten to add, in the Convent itself but in a new building which was built to house a clinic. On the second floor there were a few spare bedrooms.

Mission House; Ashmun Street; Monrovia c.1948. "Bishop's Palace" top floor corner.

My stay there however was to be brief as once the 'synod' was over I was given my first appointment to Gbarnga about 150 miles north of the Capital. Soon I was on my way with Fr Alfie Love. As there was no car or truck of any kind in the possession of the Liberian mission it was a matter of finding some public transport.  There were no taxis or busses or trains. So the first step was to send one of the mission boys ('boarders') down town to find a truck that was going your direction. As there was only one road - from Monrovia going north - all transport was going that way. These were not passenger trucks. There main purpose was to transport goods from place to place. Passengers would have to find space among the boxes and bags. The 'white man' or 'Fadda' was not expected to sit in the back. Such first class passengers always sat in the front with the driver. There would usually be three such passengers. So finding two such seats was not easy. It might take days to find a seat - there was no choice. Even when you found your transport you might have to wait for hours before the driver found a full load before starting off. If you were foolish enough to ask the driver when he was leaving he would say -- 'when God say'. If the truck left late in the day you might go part way and stay at a mission station, if there was one. At that time there were none. In an emergency you would look for a mission of another church. We always helped each other out in that way. We might have very differing views on how we imparted our version of Christianity but hospitality over-rode every other consideration. As far as I remember on that occasion we made it in one day. Gbarnga was a provincial headquarters. In appearances it had not much to recommend it. Being inhabited by the Kpelle tribe most of the housing was in traditional style. The 'rectory' (or mission house) of the Catholic Church was not much better. It was built of mud blocks and had a zinc roof It was rectangular with two bedrooms in the middle and a larger room at either end. One was our dining/sitting room and the other a chapel. Between the chapel and dining room was a verandah. A kitchen and open-air bathroom at the back completed the 'Mission house'. In front of the house was a football pitch. At one corner was the church doing duty during the week as a school. The other building was a house for mission boys. Fr Love was at that time busy making bricks, which he hoped to use to build a school. I tried to help even though I knew nothing about brickbuilding. One day I was given the job of paying the workers. I think I made a mess of it as we had to use a mixture of Liberian and American dollars. Liberia did not have any paper money but used American silver dollars. I believe the silver content was worth more than the nominal value. No wonder so many coins were melted down! Within a few years that site was to be abandoned and a new bungalow and school built near the main road.  

 Many years afterwards a seminary was also to be built on that site. Unfortunately all these buildings were destroyed in a civil war. Fr Love initiated me into the art of making bricks. The clay had first to be dug out; made into bricks with the use of wooden moulds and then after a few days drying in the sun packed into the kiln. The kiln was then sealed with clay and a fire lit underneath. This fire had to be kept going for about three days. Somebody had to be there at night to make sure the fire did not go out. Then the kilns were allowed to cool and emptied. My time at making bricks was however coming to a close. I got a letter from the Bishop appointing me to St Peter Claver Teacher Training College. This was situated at Lower Buchanan, Grand Bassa County. This was about 50 miles from Monrovia as the crow flies. Unfortunately man cannot fly. There were two ways to get to Buchanan. Walk for two days or take a most uncomfortable surfboat, which could also take two days. Sometimes small steamers called at these ports along the coast. So I was going to shipping agents every day in the hope of finding such a ship. I thought I was in luck one day when the company told me that a small motorboat was going next day. However I was informed that there was no room on the boat. That turned out to be a blessing as the boat, which was carrying petrol as well as other goods burst into flames a few miles off shore. I think two passengers swam ashore; the others all perished. I would have died as I could not swim. God must have had other plans for me! I eventually got passage on a coastal steamer, which got me in one piece to Buchanan. I think Fr Joe Duffy was in charge at the time but he was soon replaced by Fr Mattie O‘Meara.

BISHOP JOHN COLLINS OUTSIDE ST PATRICKS ELEM SCHOOL

 

MYSELF

I believe I was replacing  Fr Francis Carroll who was going on leave. His assistant had been Fr Mattie O‘Meara who was to be in charge later after Joe Duffy left now.  Let me now try to describe this new mission. As usual a football pitch took up a large space in front of the house. One therefore got a good view of the house as a driveway went all around the playing field. It was a large imposing house. I believe it had been intended to use it as a Minor Seminary which never came to fruition. It was similar in plan to the Monrovia house. The living quarters were on the first floor. These comprised four large rooms. Again there was a veranda at either end. One was our dining room and the other a sitting room. On the front and back were wide corridors. Underneath was our church with two rooms at either end used as classrooms.

When looking out the back window the school was on the right and the boarders’ house on the left. The school was built of mud blocks with a zinc (corrugated iron) roof. The boarders’ house was a similar building. So it was here that I began my missionary work. I never in my wildest dreams thought I would be teaching prospective teachers. Each day  began with morning prayer at 6.30 a.m. Mass at 7 a.m. Then a quick breakfast and into school at 8 a.m. I think school finished at 1 p.m. But for us priests it was back to school again at 2.30 p.m. We gave extra lessons to our prospective teachers. We took it in turn to take the first or second session. If you had the second session you could have your siesta after lunch.  Probably better to have no siesta – but that was not easy. Later in the evening we would try to do some parish work. We would visit some people.  We did not get much pastoral work done. As in most of our work in Liberia most of our time was devoted to schoolwork. Was this a good policy? Maybe we had no choice with our lack of manpower. We did at least produce educated people who maybe later had influence on the politics of the country. Many of our students did come from the 'upper classes' and so even if our students did not become Catholics they were hopefully, sympathetic. At least one good result of our Teacher Training was that we supplied fairly competent teachers to our schools throughout the country.

During my time there I paid a visit to an outstation at River Cess. This was some miles down the coast and necessitated a 24-hour boat trip. When I arrived at River Cess I was able to stay the first night with OAC – a Dutch Trading Company. They were  the dominant trading company along the Liberian coast. Next day our teacher from the outstation came to meet me and took me to our mission. We were able to travel part of the way by truck but the rest was on foot. There really was not much to see. I examined the children in Christian doctrine and baptized a few of them.. Next morning I said Mass and then we set off back to River Cess. When the coastal steamer came back on its return trip I came back to Buchanan.

Sometime during my spell at Peter Claver's Mattie O‘Meara went on leave and I was left in charge. We had an American volunteer priest for a short time and he was replaced by Fr Eugene Melody. One day Eugene asked me if I could play Chess. It seems Chess had become an ingame at the seminary in his time. I told him I couldn't and anyway we had no chessboard. No problem he said! We will make our own – and we did. We did not get very far with our chess playing as sadly soon after news came that brought him back to Monrovia. There they told him his younger brother who was a student at Clough had drowned. Eugene went home.

During my time there Fr Mattie had a traumatic experience. He was asked by the local Commissioner to prepare for baptism two men who were to be executed.  These men probably had no intention of ever becoming Christians but it was the law that such men should be given this opportunity. After a few weeks of instruction the men were baptized. When the day of execution arrived Mattie set off on his bike to travel the four miles to Upper Buchanan. The executioner was not very skilled and when the men were dropped the rope was too short and the men did not die. Mattie had to wait until a second attempt was made. Only then could he anoint the unfortunate men. Needless to say Mattie was not in the better of that for a few days.

An interesting thing happened while I was in Buchanan.  One day we were informed that a German man had died at sea. He was a Muller. It seems he and his daughter had fled from East Germany in a small boat. I believe they were hoping to get to South America. Instead they were swept along the West African coast. It seems the father got very ill and died. The daughter managed to get the boat ashore. There she was helped by some Dutchmen at OAC the Dutch Trading Company. They brought the girl and her father's body to Buchanan. They asked me if I would do the burial. Even though the man was probably not a Catholic I agreed. The daughter eventually went to Ireland sponsored by I believe the IRISH PRESS. I think she wrote about her adventures for the paper.

So that was my first tour of Liberia. Towards the end of 1952 I was asked to take my holidays. This was in December and not the best time to go back to Europe. I managed to get a booking on a Dutch ship going to Rotterdam. The sea was so rough when we arrived that we spent the whole night going around in circles, as it was too dangerous to land. I went on to Amsterdam and from there got a flight to London. I will never forget getting out of that plane at Heathrow. Being early December it was bitterly cold. At least it felt like that to me!

My brother and family were living in London and I was to spend some time with them before going to Ireland. It was usual at that time to have a checkup at the Hospital for Tropical Medicine – so there I went after a few days rest. I got clearance from them. No tropical bugs! I think I must have spent Christmas in London. Then it was off to Ireland.

 This was not all holiday as you were expected to spend much of it at Blackrock Road. But even there you were pretty free and they were often quite sympathetic if you wanted to go away. I was asked to supply at the Charity Brothers novitiate outside Cobh. It was pretty boring, as you had nothing to do apart from daily Mass and Benediction in the afternoon. I had my bike with me but it was such a hilly place that if was difficult to get about. After a couple of weeks I asked to be relieved. I think it must have been during that first leave that I again met my classmate Bill Power. He had been doing a lot of Retreats in Nigeria and had lost his voice. He asked me to keep him company when we went out after lunch.

 We usually went to the movies where we did not have to speak. I think he had to keep silent for a few months to let his vocal chords recover.                                                                                                                  I went  by ship as I had been asked to buy various things and bring them back. One of these items was a papal flag, I also bought suitable cloth for making into cassocks etc.It must have been on that same trip that I brought back a BSA motorbike. I bought it in Dublin and had it shipped to the boat. I was worried about it all the time as I was not sure it was on the ship. I was glad to see it unloaded on the now completed quay at Monrovia Port.

I‘m not sure where I was appointed to when I returned. I may have spent some time in Monrovia. With our great shortage of priests we were always on the move; never being able to stay in one place very long. All I know is – that I spent time in every mission station in the country. At that time we had priests in Kakata, Gbarnga, Buchanan, Sanniquellie. Later we opened Voinjama, Tappita, Bomi Hills, Bushrod Island near Monrovia. We also had a mission at Yekepa near Sanniquellie. The priests I remember being in the country at various times were John Kennedy, Mick Rooney, John Donovan, Bob Wiseman, Tom Higgins, Gerry Higgins, Tom Cloonan, Martin White, Kevin McKeown, Larry Collins, Joe Duffy, Pat McGirr. There were certainly others but my memory is not too good now.

MONROVIA

 

When I first arrived in Liberia on that fateful day in January 1948 there was only one Mission house in Monrovia. This was situated at the end of Ashmun Street (adjoining Nelson Street –I think?) at the foot of the hill leading to the lighthouse. So let me describe it. It seems the style was invented in France and the materials shipped out from there. It was rectangular, two storied. The living quarters were on the first floor, which you reached by a wooden stairway. Halfway up you met the kitchen and bathroom. A veranda about three feet wide went all round the house. No windows but large shutters that could be closed by removing the piece of wood keeping them ajar. I think there were four bedrooms/ cum study. On one end the veranda became the dining area and on the other end was a sitting room. One bedroom adjacent to the dining room was the Bishop‘s 'Palace' comprising a bedroom and part of the veranda. The ground floor had four rooms but these were used as school – rooms until the new school was built. The `Cathedral‘ was next to the house and across the compound was the boys boarding quarters. Among the boys who lived there were children of government officials. One was Shed Tubman, son of President Tubman. Another was the son of Secretary of State Dennis. He was given to me to look after my room; keeping it clean, changing the bed etc.

In the Dining Room there was a "fridge" or as Americans say an "Icebox". It was really an icebox as a large block of ice had to be placed on top of the box. I'm not sure how long this lasted but not more than a few days, I imagine! These blocks of ice were purchased from the Firestone shop. Our diet was pretty basic. We usually had "paw-paw" to start and I think we had porridge. You were expected to drink coffee rather than tea. And the coffee was the local coffee brand. The bread was made by the cook and was pretty poor quality. It was many years later that refugees from French Guinea brought people who could make bread in the French style. Lunch or dinner was always eaten about one o'clock. Chicken and rice with local greens and plaintain was our staple diet. Newcomers got a few potatoes for a while if they were available. These came by ship of course and were often sprouting when they arrived. It took me awhile to get used to such delicacies as Palm Butter chop. This was made from newly harvested palm nuts and eaten with rice and chicken. Once you got used to it, it was a great favourite. After this meal a siesta was essential. A cup of tea at 4 p.m. was very welcome. Sometimes we took a walk to the Convent and the good nuns gave us afternoon tea with home made cakes. This was real luxury! The nuns had very little themselves but they always treated the priests like royalty. One of my first jobs in Monrovia was to walk to the convent every morning to say Mass. This was at 7 a.m. We had no transport so it was a walk of about twenty minutes. Not very pleasant in that climate. One of use, usually the youngest, had to go there in the afternoon at 4 p.m. for Benediction. When the nuns eventually got a revolving tabernacle they could do this themselves.

  

Eventually more progress was made in the Capital. St Patrick‘s High School was built on a plot of land in Sinkor near to the University of Liberia. We were very fortunate in obtaining a German national who had been interned in Ireland when his plane crashed during the War. He had been allowed to study architecture while in Ireland. So he came to Liberia. His first assignment was to build a bungalow where he could live while building the school. This house was later to be occupied by the priests who ran the school. The school he designed was a solid concrete structure. Building in any part of Monrovia was especially difficult due to the rocky terrain. Not having the necessary explosives to break up the rocks a more primitive way had to be devised. This was to build a large fire on a section of rock and after the rock had been well heated water would be thrown on it and hopefully some of the rock would have broken up. This had to be done repeatedly as the area to be built on was large. This was the problem both with the building of the first school near the church and now the new High School. But eventually the foundations were cleared and the foundations laid. As sections of the school were built pupils moved in. It was a big day for the Catholic Mission when the Bishop blessed and opened the school. I think the first head was Fr John Donovan assisted by Fr Bob Wiseman. The school was a great success and attracted many pupils. It was an even greater event when the Bishop managed to get the Holy Cross brothers of America to run the school.

THE CONVENT

The Convent School called St Teresa's was run by the Franciscan Missionaries of Mary from Ireland. I think they had begun their school about a year before I arrived in the country namely 1947. They were the only order of nuns that the Bishop could find who were prepared to be self-sustaining. They had so little money that I believe they were living in very poor conditions. Their Convent had been built shortly before they arrived. They had no school building so classes were held in the ground floor of the convent. Their first building apart from the convent was the clinic. It was in that clinic that I spent my first few nights in Liberia. The clinic was widely availed of by the local people. At that time there were very few Doctors in the country and the only hospital -the Government Hospital. This was close to our central mission. Visiting it was an ordeal as the smell was abominable. The first sisters to run the clinic were Sr Edana from Scotland and Sr Trea from Ireland. They worked extremely hard from 7 a.m. until 1.p.m I was very glad to avail of their medical gifts when I got a dose of food- poisoning – the result of eating some lobster at a wedding reception.  Sr Trea gave me one tablet, which relieved the symptoms. Some years later a hospital was built at Sinkor and run by Spanish Brothers of St John of God. This hospital was to be vandalized by the rebels who invaded from the north – but this was after my time in Liberia.

 

Building St Teresa's Elementary school.

The FMM‘s not only ran a school but also did much work in the parish through visiting the elderly and the sick in their homes. Each year when the school closed for the "summer holidays" in December the sisters through the good offices of President Tubman, who greatly appreciated their work, traveled north to Sanniquellie. The climate was less humid and therefore a welcome change from the humidity of Monrovia. While they took over the priests‘ house the priests slept in a house in town. During the sisters time in residence we made use of the hydroelectric scheme constructed by Fr Kevin McKeown. It was  a chore to go to the power house (about half a mile away) and close the water wheel. Being the dry season the stream was low and we had to conserve water. The Sisters really enjoyed their vacation in the country. They did not however look forward to their return trip. It was long and hazardous. It was always a problem if they could not make the return trip in one day. Once they had to stay a night in Gbarnga. The house there was tiny – just two rooms. As it happened they did not even use the two bedrooms. The reason being that the night watchman slept outside their door. As the doors could not be locked nobody went to bed and sat around in chairs. We the priests did not get much sleep either. Our beds were the hard wooden ones used by the mission boys. That event took place during my short 'first' appointment to Gbarnga. I took some pictures and one picture shows Michael Francis –then a child. He was to become the first Liberian Archbishop of Monrovia. His father a Lebanese trader had persuaded the nuns to take him in as a boarder. They needed the money.

Girls at St Teresa's School

It must have been about 1960 that it was decided that a Social Centre was needed for the parish. As usual Fr Tom Cloonan set to work on a site opposite the Cathedral. Sadly when the hall was finished it was decided that the priests needed a new home rather than social events for the people. So the building was transformed into a dwelling place. It was not a very successful transformation however. Instead of a large open space for the hall, rooms were built around the left and right side. Part of the centre area became a dining area. On the right was a kitchen and on the left a sitting room. A bathroom with showers and toilets was also fitted. At the front entrance there was an office and on the right a storeroom. In the back there was a basement area. Some rooms there were put to various uses e.g., temporary bedrooms. Later after I left Liberia this site was abandoned and the old “cathedral” and priests’ house demolished.

It must have been about the same time that a new church and presbytery were built in Kru-town on Bushrod Island (near the port area). Fr Patrick Juule was appointed the first Parish Priest. After some years there he was given a job he never wished for; he was made Bishop of Cape Palmas. Patrick Juule was from the Kroo Coast the home of the Kroo people who were the first to be attracted to the Church. In the early days of the mission when an attempt was made to open a mission in Monrovia, the Capital, the missionaries were very unwelcome to the Government of the time. The early settlers from America were staunch members of the Baptist and Methodist churches. They did not want any competition. The early Catholic missionaries were stoned on the street and finally answered an appeal from some Catholics in Sasstown to come and work among them.

GBARNGA

                   January 1948; Old mission house with boarders from St Teresa's School Monrovia. On the left Michael Francis (now Archbishop of Monrovia.)

I have spoken about Gbarnga before in relation to my first appointment. It was probably the largest town in the interior about 100 miles from the capital. The Kpelle tribe dominated here. When I later came back to Gbarnga the new house had been built. This was a very nice bungalow situated on the main road to Ganta in the north. It had of course been built by the renowned Fr Tom Cloonan. The design was simple. A small entrance hall leading into a sitting room with a dining area adjacent to the kitchen. There were two bedrooms and a bathroom. Later a school was built nearby. In later years a seminary was built here.

During my time here a steel mast was erected across the main road to carry the microwave telephone system. This was the first telephone system in the country. Sadly only two of our mission stations signed up for a telephone –Buchanan and Monrovia. Only a very limited number of lines could be carried.

VOINJAMA

This Mission was opened from Gbarnga. It was close to the borders of Guinea and Sierra Leone. This proximity was to prove fatal for one priest. While I was there a priest called O‘Connor –a Holy Ghost  priest -crossed from Sierra Leone to Liberia. He must have forgotten that traffic travels on the right in Liberia. He crashed into a truck and was killed outright. At the time I was in Monrovia. A White Father who had transferred from Guinea as a Fidei donum priest (volunteer priest) was there and let me know. I hurried back. There was nothing I could do. After some days the Bishop came from Freetown and took the body back.

SANNIQUELLIE

 

This town was the most northern town in the country. It was about fifty miles from the nearest mission Gbarnga. The predominant tribe was Mano. This was the same place mentioned earlier as a holiday home for the sisters. It had a hot but dry climate. It was therefore a desirable place to go to get away from the humidity of the coast. The mission house was a bungalow built of burnt bricks. It had three bedrooms a dining room and a small chapel. The ‘church‘ was used only on Sundays and during the week was the school. A proper school was built later. Fr Kevin McKeown spent many years there. I do not recall him being in any other mission. His great achievement was the building of a hydroelectric scheme. That sounds grander than it really was. He built a dam across a stream, which had a fall of water. The water was channeled into a water wheel, which powered a turbine. As I said  it never really proved practical, there was not enough water.The area became desirable when a Swedish company developed an iron mine at Mount Nimba about ten miles away near the border with Guinea. We eventually opened a mission there. The company built a railway line from the mine to Buchanan; from where the ore was shipped to Europe and America. This ore was of a very high grade. Another large town between Gbarnga and Sanniquellie was Ganta. We never had a mission there as the Methodists had a large mission and hospital there. I once had to seek hospitality there when my transport did not continue on its journey to Monrovia. They made me very welcome.

It was at Sanniquellie that I had another near encounter with death. We had a "cook" called Patrick who was an alcoholic.  I suspected that he was a thief. This was confirmed one day when I caught him stealing kerosene. (Paraffin). I lost my temper and gave him a kick on the rear end. To say the least he was not happy. I could see the mad look in his eyes and when he went towards the kitchen I knew I was in trouble. He picked up a large knife and I ran for my life. I managed to reach a teacher's house in time. Since he was the same tribe as Patrick (Kru) he was able to calm him down.

MYSELF AT SANNIQUELLIE CHRISTMAS DAY 1963

KAKATA

I have also mentioned this mission previously when it was my weekend job to go there to say Mass. Eventually a house was built there. It was similar in style to the other mission houses. It had two bedrooms with a shower room available to both. A sitting/dining room was at one end. Here also a school was built. Kakata became an important part of mission support in later years. When the Bishop was finally persuaded that the only way for us to raise finance was to plant rubber. Fr Tom Higgins was chosen to be the pioneer. He had contacts in the nearby Firestone Plantation. So he had plenty of advice and when the time of planting came he acquired some good young rubber trees. Five thousand acres of land was purchased. As the bush was cut down the trees were planted. Eventually after seven years the first crop was harvested.  The production of rubber necessitated the purchase of a pick-up truck. This enabled the processed bales of rubber to be transported to the Firestone factory.

RUBBER PRODUCTION

When the rubber trees reach the age of seven years they are ready for rubber harvesting. The trees are prepared by the tappers who use a special knife to cut a piece of bark sloping downward. At the end of the slope a small metal funnel is inserted and a wire support is fixed underneath to hold the cup into which the latex will flow. In the early morning the tappers go out with their buckets to collect the latex and cut a new strip of bark. The buckets of latex are brought back to a central collecting point. All the latex is poured into large concrete tanks and acid is added to help the latex coagulate. Next day the large sheet of rubber is cut into strips and moved into a nearby holding tank. When this tank is full the strips are loaded onto the truck and transported to the Firestone factory. There samples are taken for testing. On this test depends the price that will be paid.

When I took over from Fr Tom I had to get up at 4 a.m. I said Mass and after a quick breakfast set off to the farm. During the dry season this trip was uneventful. During the rainy season it was a different story. The roads could be impassable. The amount of rubber would be greater and this meant more frequent trips. Still it was good to get the cheque and bank it. It gave you a good feeling that more progress could be made with building of schools and churches. One day after I had returned from selling the rubber I had a nap. When I woke up it was dark and  I thought it was morning so I made my way to the church! Just as well nobody saw me! As the rubber farm developed a manager was appointed to run it. Also a tank was placed on the truck to enable the rubber to be transported as latex; that is liquid rubber. It brings a better price. This happened after I left.

 

Of course later the civil war brought disaster to the mission. Many missions were destroyed. I do not know how the Kakata mission fared or whether it too was destroyed.

CONCLUSION

 

For my final assignment it was back to Monrovia. I worked with Fr Mike Rooney in his printing establishment. This had started with a primitive flat bed machine. Type was set by hand. The two operatives who were there at that time were practically illiterate. We produced not only exercise books and other simple textbooks for our own missions but did contract work for among others the Government departments. Our biggest job was printing books of receipts for government departments. When Mike Rooney made a trip to the United States he purchased more modern equipment. This consisted mainly of a lithograph-printing machine. He also bought two golf-ball typewriters. Mike also had a wire recorder –predecessor to the tape recorder. These machines produced high-class work. I took over from him.

Can I say in conclusion that in my opinion Mike Rooney put the mission on a strong financial basis. He did this not only from his fund raising in America but in the farsighted ideas he promoted in Liberia. It was a great pity that he never became a Bishop.

I arrived in Liberia in January 1948 and left in May 1969. I did not know then that I was not to return. At the time I left it seemed that the mission was getting on its feet. Increased income, more priests, nuns and brothers had come. But then came the civil war. Missions were destroyed some of the priests captured and a group of nuns murdered. I‘m glad that I was not there for that day.

I hope that these few lines may be of use to some future historian.

 

   

ARCHBISHOP MICHAEL FRANCIS