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CHAPTER 5 5th April 1935 We began
by calling on the Native Clergy, four of them, who are in charge of the
Mission itself. They have the care of some sixteen thousand Christians
living over an area of perhaps seven hundred and fifty square miles. At
the mission itself there are very large elementary schools for boys and
girls, and there are three other schools with certified teachers in outlying
places. The bush-schools, with a catechist in charge of each, number twenty,
and the mission employs over one hundred catechists. I was
intensely interested to find at Villa Maria mission a number of White
Sisters working in co-operation with the Native priests. The Sisters,
helped by Native Nuns, have charge of the girls' schools and a first-class
hospital. At the
hospital I was shown into a private room with pictures of decrepit insects
painted on the walls. These insects looked like broken-down old men, and
the room was for sick White Fathers. The paintings had been executed by
Sister Hubert, who one felt must be a 'character.'
She is. I am
writing this in 1935 after visiting a perfect dispensary where some twenty
thousand out-patients are cared for every year; a maternity ward in which
I saw twenty new-born babes (and was told that there are usually the same
number present); two large wards holding, I judged, some thirty beds each,
and numerous isolation wards, each of which is a separate concrete building. All these buildings are new, and a priest said
to me, "When I came here in 1932, this hospital did not exist."
In three years Sister Hubert had created it.
Created is almost the right word. She had nothing to start with,
received no government grants nor any help from the Bishop or anyone else
in authority. She is a highly qualified nurse, and her skill soon won
the confidence, not only of the natives, but of the many Indians inhabiting
this district. The Indians pay her for whatever she provides them with,
and it was with the money thus received that she, with the help of old
Brother Martin (age 77), built Villa Maria Hospital. To assist her now,
she has native nurses, both male and female. The Medical Officer, who
makes a weekly visit to the hospital from Masaka, ten miles away, remarked
to me that, "Sister Hubert
is one of the great wonders of Africa." The
Regional Superior of the White Fathers said to me, "If you die in
Uganda—and if it is in a bed that you die—you will most probably
die here." I felt that it would be a pleasure. One
mile from the Mission Church at Villa Maria stand both the Junior and
Senior Seminaries. They are separated from each other by a long avenue
of tall trees, and are called respectively Bukalasa and Katigondo after
the villages in which they are built. At Bukalasa,
I saw a hundred students in the long white kanzus of the Baganda,
with small crucifixes hanging on their breasts. They were issuing from
the Chapel, a fairly large building which was the gift of the missionaries
of Uganda to Mgr. Streicher, then Vicar-Apostolic, on the occasion
of his Silver Jubilee in 1912. Presently twenty or thirty boys formed
a circle and regaled us with music which proved that the Seminary has
every right to be proud of possessing, except for the Military Band of
the King's African Rifles, the only brass band in Uganda. The
buildings form a square opening on to flower gardens. The whole of one
side is filled with a dormitory ninety yards long without any partition
whatsoever. It was a sight not to be forgotten to walk into that long
room last night and to see the boys, dressed in white shorts and singlets
(African pyjamas ), each sitting on his little wooden-legged bed, and
rubbing his white even teeth with a piece of wood. That is the last thing
they do before turning in. The next to last thing is to take a shower
bath to which they need no coaxing, for the Baganda are very clean. The
boys are chosen only from amongst those who obtain Certificate A (the
highest) on leaving their elementary school at the age of fourteen. They
themselves, of their own free will, of course, apply for admission to
the Seminary through the Superiors of their respective Missions. They
are then subjected to an interview and an entrance examination. They
follow a six years' course of study, special attention being paid to Latin,
in which language they become astonishingly fluent. (Cardinal Hinsley
has written of his own amazement at this fluency, and more than ten years
after his visit to Uganda, an Official of the Colonial Office declared
to the Author, that to hear the boys at Villa Maria speaking Latin so
thoroughly well was one of the greatest surprises of his life.) We
attended a football match at Bukalasa this afternoon which was played
with great speed by the boys with bare feet. Each time one took a hefty
kick at the ball one felt sorry for his toes; they, however, showed no
signs of pain. The
Rector of the Seminary is Father Henry le Veux, who was my Novice
Master. It was not his fault
that I still felt a novice in his presence, although I am told that all
Masters of Novices never cease to look upon those they had the pleasure
of moulding as so much clay, even though the clay should become a Bishop. I saw
Brother Martin cycling home from a new Church which he is building
at Kasabali, the Seminary holiday house, five miles away. He is seventy-seven
years of age, but sat his bicycle as uprightly as a hussar sits his horse,
and when he dismounted he walked as straight as a guardsman, with a step
that devoured the ground. He was
seen a little later whitewashing the outside wall of the Staff's house,
and a small monkey, which the boys had caught at their holiday house,
approached. Suddenly the monkey took a brush from the bucket of whitewash
and joined in the good work on the wall. Then, taking fright at the Brother's
exclamation, it knocked over the bucket of whitewash and
scampered away. That monkey was very much at home in the Seminary,
but he was frightened away a day or two later. Some Indians were giving
an exhibition of excellent conjuring, in the open air, to the Seminarists
and European Staff. The climax of the show was reached when an Indian opened a sack and
a yellow and black snake some nine feet long came out of it. It stood
on its tail (has a snake a tail?) and smoothly wound itself round the
Indian. In less time than it has taken to write the above the native audience
had disappeared. Native priests, boys and servants took one look at that
"spawn of Satan" and fled for their lives. That was the end
of the show except for the monkey. One of the Brothers wanted to see how
the little pet would react to the snake. He brought it in his arms with
its face covered. Then still holding it, he allowed it to look at the
snake. The monkey spat fiercely, leapt from the Brother's arms and has
not since been seen. We walked
down a hill to a swimming pool to see the boys washing their own clothes
in a near-by pool. As we approached we could hear monkeys chattering in
the woods, and could see them stealing the tender plants from the kitchen
garden. Suddenly, while we were still a hundred yards away they scattered.
The strange thing is that there were a number of women drawing water where
the monkeys actually were. I was told that these monkeys despise women,
who shoo them off and throw stones at them to drive them away from the
garden, without any effect at all, but if only one man approaches
the monkeys flee. It is suggested that experience has taught them that
a man sometimes carries a gun, a woman never does. 6th
April, I935 Our
first visit was to the Seminary Chapel, which Cardinal Hinsley has called
"wondrous," and which a Government official with wide experience,
who was with us, said is the loveliest in Central Africa. It is the work
of a Brother who had no architectural training. He taught himself and
taught natives to build as the work went on. Facing
the chapel across a wide courtyard is the Fathers' residence, where my
old friend Father Prentice was awaiting us. A convert to the Faith,
Father Prentice joined the White Fathers at a time when the Congregation
boasted no British subjects, and he was in fact the only Englishman in
its ranks until 1925. He came to Uganda in 1904 and, except for a period
of seven years spent in teaching in Europe, has lived his priestly life
here. The reader might remember that it was he who began the "inkstand-school"
at Rubaga, but he has spent most of his time teaching Philosophy, English
and Music at Katigondo. He is held in veneration by every English White
Father. The
Rector, Father Dupupet, who is Vicar-General of the Vicariate,
is also a veteran of Uganda, and is, indeed, "blood-brother"
of one clan of natives, a very rare distinction for a European. The
college buildings of red brick are impressive for Central Africa, but
would not be considered very remarkable in Europe. The lecture rooms are
large, airy and well lit, and over them is a good hall. Another large
building contains the dormitories for the younger students and the rooms
which are occupied by deacons and sub-deacons. Everything at Katigondo
is spotlessly clean and the students have arranged their effects with
barrack-room precision. A new dining-hall and recreation room are now
being put up by natives under the supervision, and very active it is,
of a giant of a Brother with a suitably large smile. When finished the
Seminary would do credit to any diocese in Europe. It is
not inappropriate that I met Stanilaus Mugwanya to-day, here at
Katigondo. I have heard of him as the lay-leader of Catholics in Uganda
since 1897, when he was one of the Regents during the minority of King
David Chaw. I saw a very tall, well-built native being led into the
room by a friend, for the old Chief is now quite blind. He must have been
a fine figure as a young Chief, when he fearlessly continued to "pray"
during the persecution of Christians by King Mwanga in 1884. This cruel
king, however, was very fond of Stanilaus and, while he put to death others
who "prayed," he let Stanilaus go scot free, and gave orders
that he was not to be molested. Stanilaus
rose to be Native Chief Justice, and even to-day, blind though he is,
and probably over eighty years of age, he is the recognised leader of
the Catholic people. He said that fifty years ago, when the missionaries
insisted upon trying to make silk purses out of pigs' ears (priests out
of the Baganda), he had told them that they were wasting their time, energy
and money. "But, now," he went on, "I eat my words. We
have had priests of our own blood here for twenty-two years already; good
priests as everyone knows. Are they not here in the Buddu district in
charge of all the Missions? It is not impossible that I, who am a very
old tree, will see a Muganda wearing a Bishop's mitre." I stood
with Mgr. Streicher on the verandah at Katigondo and he said, "All
this had very humble beginnings." Then I learned the early history
of the Uganda Seminaries. It was
in 1893, only fifteen years after the arrival of missionaries in Uganda,
that a Father Marcou was appointed to start a Junior Seminary. The
first Seminary was a native mud hut ; the staff consisted of Father Marcou
and two natives whom the missionaries had rescued from slavery. Mgr. Streicher
said that there was nothing with which to support the few boys who joined,
and so they lived with Christian families in the neighbourhood. The missionaries
had only just returned to Uganda from exile, with practically nothing
but what they stood up in. Human prudence would have waited for better
days before trying to form a native clergy, but although he is not lacking
in human prudence, the missionary usually possesses another prudence in
large quantity. Being hopeless he is full of hope. Father
Marcou had no books at all, so he wrote out the matter for study, the
boys copied it, and before very long they had a number of manuscript books.
Later on a printing press was sent from Europe, but it had to be small
enough to be carried on men's heads over one hundred miles from the railhead
to the New Uganda Railway. There
had been a war in Uganda and the boys found used bullets which served
as lead pencils; they made pens out of hollow sticks and ink from a native
dye; the "copy-books" were old envelopes from the missionaries
mail, bound in pieces of bark cloth. In the first year the plague killed half a dozen of the
boys, and to escape the epidemic the Seminary was moved to Rubaga, eighty
miles away. Here a second priest joined Father Marcou, and the Seminary
was given the title of "The Holy Family," which it still bears. But at Rubaga, which was near the King's kraal, the boys
were exposed to a very different, but not less terrible danger. The vicious
King Mwanga fixed his eyes on the smart boys of the Seminary, and being
all powerful over those who lived on Royal land he ordered some of them
to be sent to his court from time to time. This, of course, would mean
death to the boys' virtue, and the ruin of the Seminary. Mgr. Streicher
did not hesitate to send the boys and staff to Kisubi, where, according
to native law, the boys would be the property of the owner of the land
on which they lived, and the King would have no claim on them. Later the
Seminary found a permanent home at Bukalasa. At first these priests worked with the White Fathers,
then little by little they were given charge of some of the Missions,
and so well did they succeed that in 1932 the Holy Father decided to give
them a whole district, where, still under the European Vicar-Apostolic
of Uganda, they are learning to stand alone, while some are being prepared
to take part in the administration of a vicariate. Mgr.
Streicher also founded a native Sisterhood whose headquarters we then
went to see at Bwanda, which is also a village of Villa Maria. First we
met Mother Mechtilde, who saw the birth of the Bannabikira, which translated
means "Mary's people," or as we, perhaps, would say "Daughters
of Mary." Mother
Mechtilde of the White Sisters will certainly be in all the History
Books of Uganda. God has given her a long life during which she has used
her remarkable talents with very solid effect. She has reared the native
Congregation of Nuns from its precarious birth, when no one, not even
Mgr. Streicher nor herself, thought that it would live. The condition
of woman in pagan Africa was degraded; she was just a man's thing with
no soul of her own which anyone recognised. It is not surprising,
then, that the missionaries were of the opinion that not for perhaps a
hundred years could they hope to establish a Native Sisterhood. They did,
however, try to enlist some native brothers in the service of God, and
when the first of these was professed at Villa Maria, a priest explained
to the assembled Christians the meaning of the religious life—that
it meant serving God alone and so forth. After the ceremony a young girl
approached the priest and said, "Father, I want to be a Brother!"
When it was explained that girls could not be Brothers, she said, "Is
that so? And can only boys serve God alone? Is there nothing that girls
can do?" The
priest, who is now a Bishop, and who himself told me this story, was impressed,
and he communicated his impression to Mgr. Streicher. The Vicar-Apostolic
said, "Who knows, we may have been mistaken; there is no harm in
trying." So Mother Mechtilde was asked to do what she could. The
congregation of native Sisters has now over four hundred members with
its own Superior General and Council. The Sisters are working in nearly
every mission in Uganda and Rwenzori, teaching in the schools, caring
for the sick, instructing the children and women in religious knowledge,
and living a strict religious life in their own well kept little convents. 27th
July (midday) (One-o'
clock) Sister
X is dead. The car dashed into a river. What a loss! What a gain! The
other Sisters are only slightly hurt.
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