OneWorld.net (U.S.)

As the death toll from post-election violence in Kenya rises to an estimated 800, we have received a moving reaction from Father Gabriele Pipinato: "I do not want to tell you the horrors we have witnessed, but only say a few words about what our community is experiencing." Fr. Pipinato is a founding trustee of the OneWorld International Foundation.

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January 2008

Dear friends, Peace be with you.

I have been asked to write about what is happening in Kenya, after the presidential elections. I do so only now, after the fizzling out of interest by European media, because I do not want to tell you the horrors we have witnessed, but only say a few words about what our community is experiencing.

At the New Year’s prayer, John told us about his brother being killed and Monica reported her sisters being abused. Others shared their stories of suffering, fear and concern for their family members and friends who were being held in refugee camps and were not heard from for days. A long silence followed, until Njoroge broke it to tell about himself:

I am a Kikuyu, and since I was born, I have always been told that my tribe is better than others. I was born in Eldoret, where we are a minority, yet my parents have always voted a kikuyu person to represent them in every institutions, even in the parish. I followed their steps and I voted like them all through: somehow, I never found a person worthy to represent me out of my tribe. I have been taught to divide the world in “good” and “bad”, and I was among the good ones. The enemy was always supposed to be outside my own group. I recognise that this way of thinking creates division and separation among us, leaving a distance between people and making us blind to others’ reasons and sensitive only to ours. Now I have opened my eyes: evil is not outside me but it is inside. I ask for forgiveness. I am the one in need of change and my heart has to be transformed. I ask you to pray for me.

His words touched many of us, while others became indignant and considered him pliable, weak and ungrateful to his clan. Thus, we realised how much fear and tribalism is present in our midst.

I should not judge and learn to be patient: the people I meet do not have bad hearts, instead they have suffering hearts, fearful and terribly wounded by the events of these days. Asking them to open up and also understand the suffering of others can turn into a further act of violence.

I must learn from Njoroge not to judge my brothers and sisters, but rather to acknowledge that evil is in me: it is my own heart in need of a change. In these difficult days, I have been reading the diary that Etty Hillesum wrote before being cremated in a Nazi camp:

The rottenness of others is in us, too. I see no other solution, I really see no other solution than to turn inward and to root out all the rottenness there. I no longer believe that we can change anything in the world until we have first changed ourselves. And that seems to be the only lesson to be learnt from this war: that we must to into ourselves and nowhere else. All I really wanted to say is this: we have so much work to do on ourselves that we shouldn’t even be thinking of hating our so called enemies. We are hurtful enough to one another as it is. It is the only thing we can do, I see no other alternative, each one of us must turn inward and destroy in himself all that he thinks he ought to destroy in others. And remember that every atom of hate we add to this world makes it still more inhospitable.

I realise that I am in a privileged position: I do not belong to any of the two fighting groups. It is rather easy for me to speak.

There are times when we should not insist on words, but only leave a space to silence and prayer, to understand the mystery of suffering as Mary who treasured all these things and pondered them in her heart.

Mary was standing under the cross, in silence, and could not do anything for her son but keep hope alive in her heart.

After doing everything we can for our brothers and sisters and grow together towards justice and solidarity, we must also learn to stand under the cross in silence, pondering everything in our hearts, so that suffering can be turned into humbler and truer love.

We must learn from Mary who stands under the cross, but not with an empty heart. She stands beside her son, treasures hope in her heart and keeps the faith in her God and the trust in her brothers and sisters.

I am witnessing this hope through the dawn of civil society in Kenya.

Mass media, associations, clubs and representatives of all churches as well as representatives of many governmental and non governmental organisations are trying to persuade the two presidential candidates, for peace to be achieved in the country. They are pressing Kibaki and Raila into sitting at the same table and reaching a reasonable compromise for both, leaving their own interests aside for the common good.

I do not know what fruit this movement will bear, but the history of Kenya will always remember it as an extraordinary reaction and a sign of maturity in contrast with the violent folly of the last few days.

I am also witnessing this hope through thousands of refugees who are turning to us after fleeing from conflict areas. The current mobilisation is amazing: people are being hosted by their relatives, friends and acquaintances have created an extraordinary network of solidarity. Many people remain in the refugee camps created in the last few days. Our personnel and volunteers have devoted themselves to reception activities, leaving their everyday work to care for them. It is beautiful to see the generosity, the capacity of sharing and love of our people.

We are endeavouring to involve our communities in assisting those who have lost everything, except their dignity. Refugees tell us about the horrible acts of violence they have been subjected to and our people respond to this by welcoming them fraternally and by caring for all their needs.

Opposites meet in the hearts of human beings, where rage, revenge and violence are counterbalanced by great generosity and the ability to share and love as far as to give one’s life.

I would really like to sing the praises of solidarity, which is the blossom of hope, grown in the wounds of this people. I entrust my song of hope to another page of Etty Hillesum’s diary. I often see visions of poisonous green smoke; I am hungry, with the ill-treated and the dying, every day, but I am also with the jasmine and with that piece of sky beyond my window; there is a room for everything in a single life. For belief in God and for a miserable end.

…my red and yellow roses are now fully open. While I sat there working in that hell, they quietly went on blossoming. They are just as real as all the misery I witness each day. Many say, ‘How can you still think of flowers!’ ‘There is a room for many things in my life, so much room, O God.’ As I walked down those overcrowded corridors today, I suddenly felt the urge to kneel down right there, on the stone floor, among al those people. The only adequate gesture left to us in these times: ‘kneeling down before you, my God.”

Yesterday, I stayed in my office till late at night and the night watchman told me that a child was standing at the gate. I went out and found Ndirango frightened, trembling and hungry. His mother is a Luo, while his father is a Kikuyu. His father was killed and his mother made him get into a truck, so that he could flee. He got out of the truck in Nyahururu and had been crying for two days. He was in despair.

He was hungry and I accompanied him to our centre for street children. I saw joy in his eyes, because he felt welcome and safe. How much time and patience will Ndirango need to heal the wounds of his small heart? Will we be able to follow him in his path, after having suffered ourselves?

Seeing Our Lord in Ndirango is so easy, as is feeling solidarity with his sad story and supporting him in his weaknesses. Yet, the Gospel requires us to see Jesus in our enemies too, recognise Him in those who persecute us and pray for them. Hate is too great a burden to bear.

Today, I have spent my time visiting those families where people with mental disabilities live. John gave us a warm welcome. He calls mother a woman, who seems far younger than him to me.

I ask for explanations and she told me her story.

Her name is Mary and she had to flee from Molo in 1997 because of tribal clashes, without so much as the time to bury her loved ones who were killed in the riots. After settling in a piece of land, which does not belong to her, she wanted to become a volunteer of our programme for people with disabilities. Her neighbours were John’s parents. One night they left their hut where they lived, leaving him to his fate.

Mary didn’t consider her own poverty and took him to her house. Mary and her children have been sharing the little they have with John already for seven years. She opened her heart and said:

I can not wish to anyone what I have lived in the clashes in Molo and the violence my family had to bear. When John was abandoned I understood that the Lord was asking me to transform my sufferance into love for him. Hate is too great a burden to bear and only love can dissolve it from our hearts. Our love could help John and welcome his solitude but we discovered his love also helped in the healing of our hearts. We are very happy to be together with him.

The joy I saw in this mother supports my faith and heartens me. I witnessed myself those acts of violence 10 years ago, and I would have never thought that such suffering could be turned into good in the heart of a hapless woman. I wish to learn from Mary to stand under the crosses of my brothers, to treasure hope and trust, and not to let any resentment in my heart, since hate is too great a burden to bear.

I wish to conclude with a excerpt from one of Martin Luther King, Jr.’s sermons:

I’ve seen too much hate to want to hate, myself, and every time I see it, I say to myself, hate is too great a burden to bear. Somehow we must be able to stand up before our most bitter opponents and say: ‘we shall match your capacity to inflict suffering by our capacity to endure suffering. We will meet your physical force with soul force. Do to us what you will and we shall still love you. Throw us in jail and we shall still love you. Bomb our homes and threaten our children, and, as difficult as it is, we shall still love you. Send your hooded perpetrators of violence into our communities at the midnight hour and drag us out on some wayside road and leave us half-dead as you beat us, and we shall still love you. Send your propaganda agents around the country and make it appear that we are not fit, culturally and otherwise, for integration, and we shall still love you.

But be assured that we’ll wear you down by our capacity to suffer, and one day we will win our freedom. We will not only win freedom for ourselves, we will so appeal to your heart and conscience that we will win you in the process, and our victory will be a double victory. (Martin Luther King)

I ask you to pray for this people, for it quickly to find the path of justice and unity. The country is at dangerous crossroads, but I do hope we will be brave enough to choose the path of peace. I ask you to pray for me too.

May God bless you all, Fr. Gabriele Pipinato