by Sr. Christine Gill, MMM Ireland 10.01.2026
Soon after my First Profession of Vows, I was on my way to Nigeria. I was in my late twenties and had no experience of Africa at all, so everything was new and exciting. Leaving Ireland I thought I was going to a hospital in Obudu, but I was met at the airport by my new Regional Superior and was told, no, not Obudu, but Nkalagu.
I had never heard of the place – was it an MMM mission? No, I was told, it was a cement factory which had its own hospital and MMM had
been asked to administer it in 1962. It was totally Nigerian, set up and administered by Nigerians, but the top engineers and technicians were international, mostly from European countries. They had their own hospital, which was bright, modern and equipped to a high standard. All the treatments were free for the employees of the cement factory, and the local people could be treated at a reduced rate.
I liked it in Nkalagu, and we were kept busy. We were four, Srs. Madeleine Canno, Oliver Murphy, Áine Lucey and myself. I remember one occasion when a local chief brought two of his wives to the hospital. The second wife was in labour and had a prolapse of the uterus during childbirth. Fortunately, we had a wonderful Spanish doctor who cared for her, and she recovered. The chief was so grateful he brought us a big fat ewe as a present!
However, we began to hear rumour of war. No, no, it will never happen, some said. But there were skirmishes, and injured soldiers began coming for treatment. One of the local army Coronels was friendly to us and began warning us to be ready to leave. So, we had our suitcases packed but continued on with our daily work in the hospital. Then, one day the Coronel came. “You must leave now! The troops are only three miles away and are coming in this direction.” But we were also warned not to leave before nightfall. At night we would not be visible for sniper fire. Just before leaving, our watchman called us to look at the fat ewe we had been given – three little lambs had appeared! But in spite of the rejoicing, we knew we had to leave.
It was a three-hour journey to the nearest MMM house, Abakaliki, but it took us several days as we had to take refuge in an abandoned priest’s house. But the story of the journey from Nkalagu is another story.
And the cement factory? It was taken into federal control and eventually closed in 2000. This year there are whispers to re-open it again, but MMM will not be returning.
by Sr. Sheila Devane,MMM Ireland 07.01.2026
I have heard many sermons- maybe too many? I only remember a few. Those I do recall were built around stories. The story carries the message. Let me tell you of one sermon I remember and which I use from time to time in my own life when things have gone off kilter and become unbalanced – again!
The priest was Ugandan preaching in Swahili in Tanzania to a local audience. The people there often asked: “Who is saying the evening mass in Ulenga Parish?” When it was Fr. Rudi the community of Christians, of whatever denomination, tried to attend as his sermons were so practical. He was a storyteller, and it was clear that, like Jesus, he was telling a story not narrating an historical fact in every single detail. The gospel that evening talked of hypocrisy and pretense so we knew Fr. Rudi would not disappoint. He did not!
A couple living around Lake Victoria in Uganda went on a date one sweltering day; it was a great area for fishing, so they duly called into a local shack to buy themselves fish and tasty chips made from plantain for the picnic they planned. They walked around the lake admiring the scenery and eventually found some beautiful rocks to sit down on and enjoy their food. Pauline gracefully carried the load on her head wrapped in her colourful cloth which hopefully kept the food fresh in the tropical heat. They were so hungry and thankfully too they had brought along sodas to quench their thirst!
To their utter shock when they opened the inner parcel carefully wrapped in newspaper, they found money – all the poor fishmonger’s takings in notes and many coins. No wonder the load felt so heavy for Pauline. What to do? They were really starving and although they were surrounded by fish swimming in the lake, not one was ready to be eaten! Charles thought for a few minutes and then they decided they would head back to the fishmonger before dusk with his money – far, far more than they had paid and return it all to him. Certainly, a noble, just, and honorable thought. Back they both trekked and this time the journey was far less pleasant as they were tired, hungry, hot, and fed up with themselves and the load felt even heavier.
The fishmonger having missed his day’s earnings, was totally bereft and in a state of despair when the pair arrived to return his money – and get some fish and chips for themselves! He was stunned beyond belief at their justice and kindness and called out aloud in prayer and praise of this couple. He jumped up and down, danced enthusiastically, threw himself on the floor and all in all had the best few moments of his life to the surprise and glee of everyone in sight! He immediately asked to take a picture of the couple as he needed to advertise this act of honesty to customers at his shack, in his local church and anywhere he could. He spoke of this being the true example of honesty he and his fellow workers needed in their little businesses as they were so often ripped off.
Pauline and Charles refused any photograph. He insisted; they refused, and back and forth they went like this for a while. The fishmonger could not understand why on earth they would not want the praise they deserved for their good deed nor why they were refusing him to spread this first-class example of proper Christian behavior. They were adamant and it ended there.
Pauline was married to another man, and Charles to another women. They were hiding and cheating. Publicity was the last thing they needed. Fr. Rudi invited us to look at the areas of contradiction and thus cheating in our own lives. I am trying. I remember. Amen.
by Sr. Margaret Anne Meyer, MMM USA 03.01.2026
Since Kilimanjaro Airport was near to the foothills of Mount Kilimanjaro it was decided that I would do a private retreat with the Contemplative Sisters who had a convent in that area, before returning to Dareda. It was an exceptionally enjoyable time in my life, having had the joy of my mother’s visit for three weeks and now being able to pray in such beautiful surroundings. I was very thankful to God for all His blessings.
Upon returning to Dareda, I saw many children who were admitted with burns. Because of cold nights, a kerosene lamp would be near their bed and somehow it would fall into bed. Many children required repeated skin grafts. This was an ordeal for the child and for the doctor. The Flying Doctors taught us how to make the most of a small graft by trying to thin it out like a fish net. This worked. Sometimes the burned area was very extensive, and I asked one mother if I could take some of her skin for her child. It worked the first time but not the second. One child developed tetanus three weeks after he was burned. He survived it all. It was touch and go for a long time. Some children did very well for three weeks and then died suddenly. I asked Mr. Michael Woods, who was the chief surgeon and founder of AMFREF, the Flying Doctor Service, why did this happen? He replied, the burn had caused a lack of plasma proteins, and this resulted in liver failure from lack of protein. We tried to give protein supplements from then on. It really did help.
Martin Woods, the brother of the surgeon, Michael Woods, and his wife had come to set up a workshop to train some local young men in carpentry, mechanics, and some electrical work. Martin was very skilled and produced a solar system barrel that could give one a very warm shower using a hose. I agreed to experiment with the process. Martin wore his bathing suit, and I held the hose. It is the closest I ever got to being John the Baptist. It worked! All were delighted.
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Soon Christmas came and the Church was beautifully decorated. Bishop Winters had brought Conamara marble for the pillars and the old cathedral was very impressive structure located at the foothills of the rift valley escarpment. Great pains had been taken to twist coloured papers in chains of circles up and down the pillars and across the aisles. These were interspersed with sprays of bougainvillea flowers of various hues. The nurses dressed to present a Nativity scene, complete with a Christ-like baby figure to be placed in the decorated crib. The choir chanted a K’IRAQ song, Mother. It was so touching. People came from all over for Midnight Mass. We had to get our seat at 11pm and afterwards from 2-3am enjoyed some refreshments with an English couple. Olivio and his mother came the next day. It was a joy to see them again.
A big sprig of evergreen was our lovely tinsel decorated tree. We opened some presents and went to bed at 3 AM rejoicing in the love and peace of the Lord and of each other.
by Sr. Sheila Campbell MMM Ireland 31.12.2025
Recently I was on retreat in a lovely country estate which had its own woods and even a lake with two swans swimming peacefully up and down. I had a great rest, and I will leave it up to God to tell you about how much praying was done! Certainly, I felt I slept a lot!
But I had a lovely experience one day I was out walking. I like to walk in the early morning, before sunrise. It was cloudy so there was no moon to shed its light on the road. I was walking along, staring ahead into the gloom. I could see that there was a bend coming up soon in the road, but because of the poor light, I could not make out if the road would bend to the right or the left. I wondered about that, unsure of whether to proceed or not. But I plodded on and when I reached the bend it curved gently to the left – you could hardly call it a bend at all!
I thought about that road – yes, it is just like life. We are called to journey along and our life will take unexpected and unforeseen turns. But in the end of the day, all we are called to do is to plod on and the God will guide us round the ‘bend’ when we come across them.
One day we will reach the end of life’s journey, but as God has been my faithful guide and companion on the journey, I am sure he will be just ahead of me on the path as I touch the gates of heaven.
by Sr. Anna Finnegan, MMM Ireland 27.12.2025
After reading Jo W. Doyle’s Blog on 6/12/25. I was reminded of one Christmas Nativity Play in Irele, Nigeria, in 1991.
In preparation for the Nativity Play we gathered the little children from around the parish and the hospital compound to practice the carols and to act out the story of the birth of Jesus.
I found a big doll, which I painted black and every time we came to gather to practice all of the children wanted to hold it, so as a result the colour on the doll wore off!
When the day came to celebrate Christmas, that morning the gardener made a lovely shelter from sticks. The children got together to decorate it with yellow and purple bougainville. Inside the shelter, the crib for Jesus was a big basket, lined with straw.
We had separate patches on the compound for Mary, kneeling on a mat, and Joseph resting with his lantern and staff, near by. Then the three Kings who were further up at the top end of the Compound waiting with Stella, who was a little daughter of one our kitchen staff. She held a large star on a long stick and was to lead the Kings down to the Crib. Then the Shepherds were beyond the shelter. there were about twenty of them, as we wanted all the children to be included. At one stage, while waiting for their parents and Staff to arrive, some of the children were getting impatient. One little boy came over and said, “The Shepherds are fighting !!” So, we re arranged them so that some Shepherds could go to the back and rest, and the other ten would keep clattering their sticks. as they said they needed to keep rats away from Jesus s Crib…
We had a throng of Angels with little crowns on their heads, and they were to begin singing in their Yoruba language after the Angel Gabriel would come to Joseph with the message to take Mary as his wife.
Just before beginning I had asked Shola, one of our caring staff, if she would slip her newly-born baby into the crib. She had delivered her child in our Maternity, just six weeks before then. She was very happy and she did it so discreetly, without anyone knowing about it
One of the nursing staff began with the reading of the birth of Jesus as the Angel Gabriel came to Joseph, but he did not respond as he was in a deep sleep with the heat of the day. There was a long pause…. Then someone summoned Gabriel to go back and give him a good shaking. It was funny as poor Joseph jumped up and ran over to Mary forgetting his stick and lantern and hardly knew what to do, but it was not long until he got help.
Then the throng of Angels arrived at the Crib, still singing and dancing. Suddenly the baby made a little whimper and there was pandemonium! The Angels started shouting and jumping around. They could not believe what they were seeing. Then all the children came running out from all over the Compound to see what was happening. Had Jesus come to life?? There was a great confusion and wonder. Everyone was happy and surprised.
We all rejoiced and celebrated together. That Jesus was alive ….and is with us.
by Jo Wardhaugh Doyle Ireland 24.12.2025
The starry night of the Incarnation, the unseen miracle, the 25th of December, the birth of Jesus, and the day Santa arrives, is full of noise, light, song, cheer, food, celebration of family and friends; But back in the day it happened with no fanfare or noise. Incarnation, like Resurrection happened in darkness.
So, I have to ask the question. Why is the darkness so important before light can be revealed.
I do love the story of the birth of Christ in Luke’s gospel. It was all so ordinary. People moving to their home constituency for the census, no room for outsiders, Joseph and Mary just unknown unseen people, not exceptional or remembered; but Mary knew something had happened nine months previous when she had said Yes, her Fiat. She had been touched. There was no certitude or intellectual discussion. She had just said yes, with no verification of what that meant. She held these words that had been spoken to her in her heart for the rest of her life, letting them unfold into a living light of love and loss, joy, and grief. She let these words unfold into love of her son. Born in darkness, with joy, born like an amazing miracle. She looked and gazed upon him like any mother wrapped in silence. This child, this cherished child was hers. Her life changed forever with a deep awning of love. She pondered all these things in her heart and wondered did every mother feel this way?
It was a cold night, but the stars were twinkling so brightly it did look like the gods were talking to each other across the heavens; But all Mary and Joseph saw were shepherds coming closer to them, they had shepherded their sheep with them, five Shepherds in all, old and young, who wondered had their water being changed to wine. They wondered had they heard right. They wondered where they drunk. So, they wandered into town, with no certitude either. What on earth would they find with their sheep on that starry night, where they mad; When they fell upon the scene, the older man with the younger woman suckling her child, their donkey and a stray cow curious, like the shepherds as to what was going on. They were told to see their Saviour, a newborn helpless child, with poverty-stricken parents who had no place to stay. A Saviour?
But the stars had twinkled, and that voice had been so convincing with its unconvincing message. A Saviour!
Joseph welcomed them in, bewildered one and all. All of them had been touched with a knowing. It was like a secret knowing, given in darkness to them. The world had been stirring badly; these were dark times. But on this starry night, these eight people knew something unexplainable.
Do you remember the first time you saw a new life being born into this world?
I do. I was a student midwife at Our Lady of Lourdes Hospital Drogheda.
It had been a long, hard labour for the mother, and the pain of the last few pushes, well, everyone’s blood pressure rose! But that moment when the head crowned, the shoulders turned, and this amazing life fell out of the womb.
There it is. There is the light. The new life.
The cry. The declaration I am here! I have arrived.
On my first delivery, I had unpreventable tears roll from my eyes. The mother looked, wondering was everything OK. And I laughed and said everything was perfect. It is hard not to cry at watching this in front of your eyes. From the darkness of the womb to the light of new life.
Is this incarnation? The unremarkable miracle of life; And like the shepherds who went to tell the good news to all around them, we all call on our mobiles to everyone that we know and cry, do not worry anymore, the child is born, everyone is safe, everyone is healthy. All is well. The light is born and hope continues.
And the woman wraps herself in silence, pondering all of these things in her heart.
by Paul Campbell, S.J. USA 20.12.2025
“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in the land of deep darkness, on them has light shone.” Isaiah 9:2
I don’t know why, but I’ve been thinking about this verse for several weeks.
Those of us who live in the northern hemisphere find ourselves going to work and returning from it in the dark. Then there’s the darkness we encounter in a world where justice, mercy and compassion are sorely lacking. Finally, there’s the darkness within my soul. It comes from my willful ignorance of God’s goodness, my besetting sins, internal emptiness, and a spiritual void that sometimes feels crushing and hopeless.
But Advent isn’t about indulging my “dark night of the soul.” It’s about God’s promise to come among us in a way that finally shows that darkness no longer has the upper hand. Isaiah doesn’t promise a small candle but a “great light,” suggesting a decisive and unmistakable act of God that changes the landscape rather than just making the darkness a bit more tolerable.
Christians have long understood this “great light” as ultimately fulfilled in Jesus, the light of the world, who brings forgiveness, truth, and hope into our human brokenness.
Advent invites to trust that God can and will break into any darkness, so I ask God to let the light of Christ dawn in me in a way I can’t manufacture for myself.
Life is an on-going journey which its destination is achieved after death. Life is meaningless without love and peace.
by Nadia Ramoutar MMM Communications Coordinator Ireland 13.12.2025
This year I got an opportunity to write a Children’s Christmas play. It came about in the unusual way that someone else who was supposed to do it, didn’t do it and a friend of mine was left in a bind. She asked me somewhat desperately to help her back in September. I naively agreed.
Months later, the play is written and the children are almost ready for the main stage. It is a joy to see words that you wrote come out of a young person’s mouth but it also shows how vulnerable we all are. How we can find ourselves repeating from a script someone else wrote for us? What messages are we sending to the world and what messages have we internalised through the noise of culture?
And when it comes to the Christmas holidays, it does feel like things speed up in a less than positive way. It’s as if the world is caught up in a script that says “Buy more, hurry up, rush around, eat more, drink more, and be worried that nothing is enough.” The traffic is heavier, people are short tempered, the shops are full and the true meaning of Christmas seems to somehow have gotten lost in the marketing.
When we step back, we see that the unlikely gift of Jesus to the world is a story that we tell each year over and over. The joy of it illuminates us and brings us comfort. We can feel the hope in the small boys arrival amidst the least privileged of circumstances to a young and nervous mother who has been shunned by the world. It can’t have been an easy moment. Yet it is exactly in that imperfect scenario that the world was forever changed and the impact of that scene continues to impact our hearts and lives today.
So when the time comes for us to celebrate Christmas can we carefully check what script we are reading from? Can we decide to slow things down and say no to the demands of a society out of control? Can we set aside the modern commercialism and pressure of perfectly wrapped parcels and ideal outfits? Can we overlook the food to see the faces of those we love around the table?
Because the greatest gift of Christmas without a doubt is just that – to be in the presence of love, whether we deserve it or not.
By Sr. Margaret Anne Meyer, MMM USA 10.12.2025
In October 1979, my mother Agatha, retired from school teaching, came to Tanzania to visit with me. We had a very enjoyable time together. Dr. Rijken’s mother-in-law also came, so I could not leave until they returned from Arusha. Mom had a chance to rest for a few days. She knew I was unable to meet her. She told me how glad she had been to see four MMM’s in Amsterdam, waiting for the same plane. She was not alone. She did not have a visa to enter Tanzania. Sr. Theresia Samati obtained a visa for her. She was incredibly grateful.
There was great rejoicing when Mom arrived. I was still working in the hospital until Dr. Rijken returned. Fr. John Mc Donagh took Mom on his village visits to say Mass. She enjoyed meeting the people. The nurses also came to a reception to meet my mother in our house. At first no one came at the appointed time, and I was worried. About a half hour later, they all came, decked out in their best attire. Mom was pleased to meet them.
Mom enjoyed meeting all our visitors. Many people appeared at mealtimes. One was Pastor Hoops. I asked him to come late to the OPD and then join us for dinner. My mother asked him were he a priest or a brother and he said neither, “I am Pastor Hoops. I am not a Catholic, but I like Catholic food.” My mother was extremely impressed.
Sister Doctor Marian Scena arrived around this time. We were glad to see her.
The following week, Mom and I went to Makiungu for a week and enjoyed visiting people there and seeing the sites. She loved meeting Sr. Christina and later shared a letter with me in which Sr. Christina told her about the terrible famine the people experienced in 1984 in the Singida region. The crops had failed from lack of rain and then at the last downfall the crops were flooded. My mother and Aunt Clare Twomey Torre used to send care packages of clothes and some food. Sr. Christina used the boxes of macaroni to thicken the soup for the hungry people. The food was distributed under the direction of the Pallotine Fathers. It was exceedingly difficult for the Sisters to cope with all the medical work and the feeding. The Sisters used to admit whole families to the hospital to care for them. I was not there at the time. I was on Sabbatical in the USA for 2 years and returned in 1985.
But now I am getting away from telling you about the exciting time I shared with my mother. Upon returning from Makiungu, we went to the game parks with Charles, a medical student who had come to Dareda for some medical experience. We enjoyed Lake Manyara where our hotel room overlooked the game park. We searched for lions who rested in tree limbs in the evening. It was delightful to be there with her.
In a few days we traveled to Ngorongoro Crater where we met a German couple and together, we shared the hiring of a land rover to travel down the escarpment to forty square miles of a game reserve. The lions were resting as we drove by. No one wanted to get out of the land rover. It was spectacular to see the wildebeest, hippos, deer, and giraffe. All were busy in their natural habitat. We stayed in a lodge that night and the next day prepared to return to Arusha. On our way to the main road, three soldiers stopped us for a lift. I told them we had a small car and could take only one. My mother was afraid they would harm us, but they understood our position and let us go on. I do not recall being afraid, just worried that the car would break down on the bad roads.
n Arusha, Olivio, a friend of the Sisters, offered to take my mother and me to the local hotel for a roast goat dinner dance. I had asked my mother to bring her evening dress, and she really enjoyed dancing with Olivio. Sr. Veronica Keaney came with us. We all enjoyed the evening. At midnight, Olivio said it was time to leave as he had to take his two children to the game park in the morning. My mother showed no signs of being tired of dancing.
Soon it was time for Mom to leave. She had stayed for three weeks and had put in her will that if she died in Tanzania, she would be buried there. I was extremely grateful that no harm came to her. What would my brothers and sister say? This time I could see Mom off and accompany her to the airport. It was difficult to say goodbye but we both shared a lot of happy memories of our time together.
