Rome, December 19. Dear brothers and sisters, if the first three days of our pilgrimage to the source were of intense spiritual depth, the fourth and fifth days were even more so, a true crowning of 150 years of Mission, in the Maghreb of course, but also everywhere else in Africa and in the world. When a fireworks display is fired to celebrate an event – the French, for example, are used to it on July 14 – the last shots are particularly rich in colour, saturation and detonations and are called the apotheosis of the fireworks display. This is how I felt on Saturday and Sunday, December 15 and 16 in La Marsa, Tunis and Carthage. A grandiose apotheosis!

Saturday morning, the bus came to pick us up in La Marsa to take us to the IBLA (Institut des Belles Lettres Arabes) where we met those who were staying at the diocesan institute. I will not reproduce here the words of the IBLA Director, our colleague Bonaventura Benjamin Mwenda, because the content was almost identical to the article he wrote to us in Petit Echo n° 1084, which you will find here. While Bonaventura spoke mainly about the present and future of the institute, André Ferré (84) spoke mainly about the past, and particularly about the painful event of the IBLA fire, in which one of our colleagues died and a large part of the IBLA books were destroyed by fire or by the water used by the fire brigade. He recalled the radical questioning of our presence through this institute, which is mainly dedicated to intellectual dialogue with Tunisians and to the academic support offered to Tunisian high school and university students. The secretary of the institute told us about the IBLA journal, which has never ceased to exist since its foundation, even if today the editorial board is exclusively Tunisian. The other members of the community intervened here and there with great enthusiasm, even our brother John McWilliam, who had to leave the IBLA, which he loved particularly, to dedicate himself to his diocese of Laghouat-Ghardaïa. We enjoyed the very tasty pastries that made us lick our lips during the long talks of our confreres and then, in groups, we visited the house which was finally well restored after the 2010 fire.

We went down to the city centre and the Cathedral through the Medina. We were warned to stay together and be very careful with our bags, laptops and other cameras. Despite this, one of our confreres from Sfax had his mobile phone stolen. We had to hurry because a restaurant had been booked for a very specific time. I put this link found on the Internet to give you a little idea of the Medina.

After the meal, we returned to La Marsa where we had on the program testimonies about the Martyrdom of our four confreres who died in Tizi-Ouzou. The “panel” was composed of Sister Chantal Van Calck, who was a young WS profess at the time and who was supposed to start the Library project in Tizi-Ouzou with Christian Chessel, Brother Jan Heuft who had known our four confreres well, a (relatively) young confrere Vincent Kyererezi who is only connected to the four martyrs through his first appointment to Tizi-Ouzou, and finally, and certainly not the least, the Archbishop of Algiers, the Jesuit Paul Desfarges.  The testimonies were of an unusual density and extremely emotional. Interventions of a very high level, both on Saturday and on Sunday. It must be said that we had three bishops at all times: in addition to Bishop Desfarges, there were Archbishop Ilario Antoniazzi of Tunis and our colleague Bishop John McWilliam. The conditions under which I recorded the conference were not good, especially at the very beginning, but you should be able to follow it confortably enough… in French though!

The day wasn’t over yet. We were going to celebrate the Eucharist with Bishop Paul Desfarges, a very simple and holy man, as our main celebrant.

This is Bishop Desfarges’ homily recorded in French, and here is the text, translated in ENGLISH.

La Marsa (Tunis), 14th December 2018. Popular wisdom sees rain as a blessing. So we are not complaining. On the contrary, the rain will inspire us all along the way to imagine these men, women, young people and children, many of whom live in precarious conditions, and to pray that they may find more and more dignity, peace and joy in their lives. The journey to Thibar will be long, very long: 170 kilometres, with traffic jams at the beginning and winding mountain roads afterwards.

But what a joy to arrive in Thibar, this high place in our history! Many of our elders would have been happy to accompany us. Jean Fontaine is a privileged man, too happy to share some information and memories with us. As the bus approached the former scholasticate, I saw myself, barely a week ago, going through the photos in the archives. Thus, this scholasticate still exists, practically as it did at the beginning, at least in its external structure.

As we got off the bus, we were greeted by a man with an abundant smile, flanked by several colleagues and at least one policeman, who will supervise us throughout our visit. After all, we are not just anyone. We are White Fathers and White Sisters, whose ancestors created everything in the region. Very soon, we will realize that the principal and his school of agriculture and livestock breeding see themselves as the proud heirs of all this heritage created by our ancestors for the highest glory of God and the dignity of every man and woman.

We are welcomed in a conference room with water and fruit juices. The principal presents his school and his future development projects to us through a “powerpoint” presentation. He slipped old photos here and there into the presentation as if to show his attachment and gratitude to those who started it all here. There is even a photo of White Father scholastics. Jean Fontaine no longer keeps into place, approaches, looks more closely and declares turning around: “it’s Kalilombe”… the only African in this promotion of 1957, the year of my birth!

He then takes us through the main building, we pass through the corridors and climb the stairs where so many of our elders hurried to arrive in time for prayer or for class. That’s very impressive! We only see the upper part of the large chapel which has been divided in two in height and in several classes also on the surface.

We go out, it still rains. We therefore board the bus that will take us a few hundred meters further to the place called “La Cave” to which the wine cellar – the “Cave à vin” – has given its name. We enter the antechamber of a reception room in the centre of which we see a carved table and its heavy chairs, undoubtedly from the prime times. In the antechamber, a bottle of Thibarine is on display, as well as two bottles of wine, and in front of the bottles, ready for tasting, glasses half full of these precious liquids that continue to be produced since the White Fathers planted the vine over a hundred years ago. We see the eyes of the school principal and the person in charge of the Cellar sparkling with pride, rightly so. I ask one of the escorts if he drinks wine. He makes me understand in approximate French that he doesn’t drink it… today. It is true that it is Friday, the day of Prayer at the Mosque. But in Tunisia, people work on Fridays and rest on Sundays!

The rain continues its work and soaks the ground. It will be impossible for us to reach the cemetery, as we would risk getting the bus stuck in the mud. We will pray for our brothers and sisters Missionaries who died in Thibar, during the evening mass, presided this time by Didier Sawadogo. The latter will reflect so well what we all feel. We had to leave Thibar, but the Mission of “putting Human Beings upright” continues within the walls of the former scholasticate through this man with an abundant smile, so proud of a school that gives young people the ability to develop and live in dignity.

Sister Cécile could not be with us today, but she had prepared a booklet for the guide which you will certainly read with pleasure and interest.

Philippe Docq, M.Afr.