Celebrating Catholic faith in Uganda
Andrew DeBerry
"Thirty-two Catholics and Protestants were led 37 miles away to a place called Namugongo to be burned to death in a literal holocaust. Three were killed on the way.
"One of these, a district judge named Matthias Kalemba, declared, `God will rescue me. But you will not see how he does it, because he will take my soul and leave you only my body.' He was cut into pieces and left to die slowly by the roadside."
How have stories such as these inspired a passionate faith in Uganda?
Every year on June 3, thousands in Uganda gather for "Ugandan Martyrs Day," which celebrates the martyrdom of 32 Christians in 1886. The East Africans pack white vans, fill the beds of trucks and take day-long walks for an annual pilgrimage to Namugongo. The pilgrimage itself is special as a time of suffering that gives value to the journey.
My trip was quicker, and it took the priests I was living with only two hours to reach the shrine. A dynamic group of leaders from Notre Dame, Kings College and the University of Portland traveling through East Africa to engage its social issues also journeyed to Namugongo. Along the way we passed several large groups of standing men packed in the backs of trucks bumping along the red dirt roads.
The events leading to the 1886 massacre began in the 19th century when Catholic and Protestant missionaries introduced the Christian faith in Uganda. Threatened by this new faith, chiefs and witch doctors incited the nation's young ruler against the Christians. Charles Lwanga was leader of the royal pages, many of whom he baptized into Christianity. In heroic fashion, Lwanga and his friends were adamant in their faith. Their deaths were a precursor to a rapid spread of the Christian faith in the years shortly thereafter.
The site at Namugongo was remarkable as over 25,000 people filled the valley around the lake there for the Mass celebration. The scene could remind one of the Gospel event when so many flocked to Jesus that he got in a boat and preached from the sea.
Over 30 saints come from Uganda, which is smaller than Oregon. Thirty-three percent of the country is Roman Catholic, 33 percent is Protestant, 16 percent is Muslim and 18 percent have indigenous beliefs. The Christians in Uganda rejoice in their country's testament to faith.
The Mass reflected the spirit of Ugandan people. For the presentation of the gifts, the congregation brought a live goat, pineapples and large bunches of bananas to the altar before leading them back across the bridge because there was no place for them in the sanctuary surrounded by the lake. The musicians beat out a reverberating rhythm on the drums as the choir sang songs in Luganda.
While Ugandans speak different native languages, the official language is English. The bishop's homily in English was direct as he spoke out against violent rebels in the country. He also reached to people at their level by asking about their sins before concluding on God's infinite love for them. Many in the congregation listened wholeheartedly with their heads bowed, their hands covering their faces.
During the reenactment of the Last Supper, the crowd clapped when the bishop held up Christ's body and blood. For the sign of peace, men in button-up shirts and slacks and women dressed in colorful dresses shook our hands. Priests were sent throughout the crowd during Communion, and the masses crowded around them, stretching their hands out before them to touch and receive Christ's body.
When the three-hour celebration was over, our group meandered through the congregation. We stood out against the rich, dark color of the Ugandans who watched these mzungus wade through the crowd.
Despite being on the equator, Uganda is called the Pearl of Africa for being a lush country. While many are dissatisfied with the stagnancy of their position in society, others are happy in their simple joys. Children are very well-mannered, and I seldom heard any children crying during the stay there.
The masses completely filled the streets after the ceremony. Street vendors cut fresh pineapples, sold stalks of sugar cane and cooked meat on grills. The food is plentiful and cheap. It was ironic to hear a radio strapped to the back of an "ice cream bicycle" playing, "It's a Small World After All."
I knew I would stand out and be a source of entertainment before going to Uganda. But at Namugongo I wished I could know what it was like to be the woman holding a baby or the man with a wooden leg who both asked me for money through our van window on the slow ride home. I wished I could just fade in to be one among the crowd.
Despite my differences, I was able to find a link among them through shared convictions in faith. During the next two months I would connect at heart with them to gain the same inspiration they do from the Ugandan martyrs and their leader, whose last words were, "I am happy to die for the true faith. My friends, goodbye. We will meet again in heaven."
Andrew DeBerry is a senior engineering major. His column appears every other Thursday. He can be reached at adeberry@nd.edu.
The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.
All Viewpoint Stories for Thursday, February 6, 2003
