by Nadia Ramoutar, MMM Communications Coordinator Ireland 21. 10.2026
A recent report from UNICEF alarmingly indicates that intimate partner violence starts early in the lives of girls. Globally, nearly 30 per cent of adolescent girls aged 15–19 years are estimated to have experienced intimate partner violence, non-partner sexual violence, or both at least once in their lives. This is about 43 million girls worldwide. There are more details of this report available for you to review if you would like.
I have worked for MMM for over five years now and my work in dealing with issues for girls and women has been very meaningful to me. I am fortunate to work in a matriarchal structure in which I feel valued and appreciated. The MMMs will celebrate the 90th anniversary of being founded next year in 2027. While I appreciate all the efforts we are making, I think that looking at this statistical report from UNICEF there is something staringly obvious and wrong here. What concerns me is the “who” of this report? The girls are being abused by someone.
Much of the efforts around girls and violence frequently include ways in which girls can avoid being victims of crime – but the truth is so little effort seems to go into actually breaking these cycles by focusing on the true issue here – how can we raise less violent boys and men?
I am the mother of two males. I know that raising a boy is not always easy in ways that can be challenging. No parenting is easy – but when you a mother raising boys into men you have to be very careful that you get your messaging right. At an early age I started to talk to my sons about concepts like “consent” – what does it mean, how does is impact them. Recently my youngest son found himself challenged when he lost his temper and raised his voice when frustrated in losing an online video game. Teaching boys how to deal with frustration and to be able to lose graciously is not an easy thing to do.
Many boys now lack positive male role models in their lives for several reasons and this is a global issue that we can see worldwide. It is important that boys get a clear understanding of what it means to grow up into responsible, compassionate and reasonable adults. They will not be able to get their way all the time. They cannot use their size and strength to overpower others. Girls are not lesser than them in anyway because they may be smaller or less able to defend themselves.
It is all our responsibility as communities to help raise secure, confident, responsible and decent men. Very bad things happen in our world when this does not happen. We need to find new ways to address an age old problem – what can we do to raise strong men who do not continue to perpetuate old and harmful ways in our world.
By Sr. Christina Gill, MMM Ireland 17.10.2026
Many years ago, I worked in Fuka, Northern Nigeria. It was a small rural village surrounded by nomadic herdsmen. We had a busy clinic. Shola our chief nurse would open the gates wide on a Monday morning for the patients arriving, usually walking or by bicycle.
This Monday was an extra busy day. We had a new group of infant vaccinations to organise, another group to continue their vaccinations and at the same time we has a group of pregnant mothers to be screened and cared for. Often, we had the problem of men not allowing further treatment for their wives. But Shona, our nurse was used to handling these cases, so when Fatima, a small woman with a large baby, presented needing referral to a larger institution, Shona sat down with Bola, the future father, to get him to agree with a referral for treatment. At first, he had been resistant. “There is no hospital bigger than Fuka!”, he exclaimed, seeing the bustle all around him. But Shona insisted and he agreed.
The clinics lasted long past lunchtime, and I was tired and decided to take a nap. No sooner had I stretched out on the bed than there was a persistent knocking on the window. It was Zach, Father’s houseboy. The priest was in difficulty and sent a note looking for help. “Father fallen in river, come help!” Zach insisted. What could I do? I was a new driver myself and knew nothing about cars or trucks. But after being encouraged to get a rope, I went with Zach to the river side in the clinic station wagon. There indeed was Father stranded in the middle of the shallow river, unable to drive forward or backward. Zach didn’t know how to attach the rope, so a local man from the village came to help and tied the rope, axle to axle. I was panicking, but Zach was insistent and confident. “Sister can do it!”, he kept saying.
Slowly I edged the car forward until the rope became taut. I put my foot on the accelerator and slowly the priest’s car was pulled out of the river. But where to get it fixed? I ended up towing Father past two villages until we reached the town of Minna. All the other cars were hooting and jeering – to see Sister towing Father, and not the Sister behind as is fitting for a woman!!
Listening to the world news at present, one could be forgiven for choosing not to read a short article with this title! However, let me reassure you that this could be titled simply as “Not My Turn”. This was something I was all too familiar with feeling, especially as a child, when asked to do some little household duty out of turn, or when I believed a sibling should really be doing it!By Sister Margaret Anne Meyer MMM USA 10.10.2026
At that time, in the early ninety’s, HIV/AIDS, was considered an East African Disease. The Minister of Health said that there were a few cases of HIV/AIDS in Nigeria. Few people believed it. I started to look for it. This was the same attitude as I found in Tanzania, other countries had it, but not us. After a few months, a doctor in Ikom asked me to see a patient who had Kaposi Sarcoma. She was found to be HIV positive. Her husband was a teacher and often visited villages in Cameroon. Ikom was close to that border. A doctor, from the Ministry of Health, was working in Calabar and told me she would test specimens brought to her lab. Because of what I had learned about clinically diagnosing HIV/AIDS in Tanzania, nearly all the specimens were positive for the virus. I began doing Health Education in the schools. Sister Jacinta Roche invited me to give a workshop on HIV/AIDS IN Mafoluku. It was well attended and the people were extremely interested in the subject.
Sr. Maura O’Donohue gave my name to speak at an AIDS Seminar in Jos and from there I was invited to many places. In 1994, an American organization gave me money to give a workshop on AIDS. Sr. Therese Jane Oguh was a guest speaker because she had gone abroad at the Bishops’ request to learn about HIV /AIDS. She gave an exceptionally good presentation. Sr. Uche Oluoha from Obudu, also helped with the organization and visits to the outlying villages. At that time, we were seeing a steady increase in patients suffering from HIV/AIDS. We were able to send one of our Staff Nurses for training in AIDS Counseling and he helped many patients to deal with their condition. Sr. Doctor Leonie Mc Sweeney gave courses in behaviour change. Another of our Staff Nurses went for this training and was able to train about eight high school students in behaviour change methods. One of them continued to give talks at her University. We had courses for those who wanted to attend six weekly sessions, and they received a certificate of training afterwards. Over one hundred and fifty people were trained in HIV/AIDS counseling. Over the years it was heartbreaking to see so many parents grieve for their young adult children dying of AIDS. At that time, antiviral medicines were extremely expensive, and few could afford them. Now they are much more available for the people to obtain.
We also took advantage of all the natural herbal remedies which were advertised in the journals. The branch of the frangipani flower exuded a milk like substance which took away the pain and itch of a herpes zoster rash. Kola nut boiled in water with an onion and honey eased a hacking cough. Boiled guava leaf soothed the itch of a fungal rash. Iodine was added to a bland ointment to cure a fungal rash when we had no Whitfield Ointment. It was surprising how much natural remedies could help these suffering people. God was with us and with them, too.
by Nadia Ramoutar, MMM Communications Coordinator Ireland 10.10.2026
A young man working in a mission in Liberia asked me if I could help him by sending him a book. I have been mentoring this young man for some time in expanding his role as a spiritual leader with a purpose, so I was happy to help him. It was difficult for him to get this book in Liberia as it was published in Europe. I went online and I ordered the book for him. He gave the address of where he is currently studying and I sent it on to him. Seven months later, the package came back through my door. Unopened. Unharmed. Undelivered.
He was so frustrated and I don’t blame him. It was so disappointing. We don’t have a full explanation of how this happened but any of us who have been sending things like this over the years are in NO WAY surprised at this story.
Another young man who has five children under 12 years of age was also in contact with me and was desperate to get some support for himself and his family as they are trapped in Afghanistan and he is on a danger list because he previous worked for organizations affiliated with the Western world. He and his wife managed to get the five children and themselves across the border as refugees to Pakistan. One day he was stopped and searched – and it is not clear why but he was returned to Afghanistan, forced to leave his wife and five children in Pakistan. Unprepared. Unsettled. Unhappy.
There is very little if no support for families like this caught in the political web of Afghanistan at the moment.
Last year over 350 humanitarian workers in the world were killed. This is the second highest number of fatalities recorded since such things were tracked.
As a person committed to making a positive difference globally, there are moments when I question how all this is going? It seems like the problem with injustice is that it is so – well, unjust. While many of us have faced personal injustice in our lives, living with systematic injustice is a whole other level of challenge. It means that the institutions we might need to function consistently cannot be trusted or depended on to deliver when we might need them most.
And what does one do with one’s heart in such a reality?
It is not easy to answer or to comprehend how we might overcome so many inequalities that linger in our world. Some countries get help and some don’t. Some girls can go to school and some cannot. We live in a world of contradictions which makes navigating our course so challenging. This week amidst this irritation, I read the words “renew my heart”. I stopped. I stared. I surrendered. May I not give up. May I not forget those in need. May I not become cynical. May I simply, renew my heart.
by Sr. Sheila Campbell MMM Ireland 03.10.2026
Certain national and international disputes have been grabbing my attention these days. One approach is to say “Nothing to do with me! Too far away. No one wants my opinion.”. But somehow that doesn’t seem to answer the Christian call to protect the most vulnerable and to treat each person as the image and likeness of God.
When should I stay silent, and when should I speak? Don’t actions speak louder than words anyway? Maybe I do not need to say anything. But I come from a background of liberation theology where we look at the word of God with the Bible in one hand and the local newspaper in the other! We are called to continue Christ’s work in our everyday lives.
All through my lines of thought comes the word “appeasement”. Appeasement is a policy of making political, material, or territorial concessions to aggressive power in order to avoid conflict. It was famously used about British politicians who tried to avoid conflict with Hitler. More recently I have heard it used about the German bishops in the same period who also kept silent so that they could continue with their religious practices.
So, one question is, “why am I keeping silent?” Is it just to avoid conflict, or by not confronting it, am I just pushing it off for another day when it could come back stronger and more dangerously. How should I face up to a bully?
I wish I had an easy answer. I try to hold my own in an argument but look out for aspects where I can agree with the other person. Is this peace-making or appeasement?
I have no easy answers to all of this, but in a historical period where there are quite a few bullies around, it seems to me that we need to be thinking about it.
by Sr. Liana de Jesus, MMM Brazil/ USA 30.09.2026
‘The Secret Life of Everything’ is a thoughtful book that encourages us to pay attention to the world around us and discover the beauty and meaning hidden in everyday things. The authors use simple English, poems, images, and meditations so that everyone can understand the ideas and take time to reflect and pray.
One of the things I like about this book is the sense of peace and quietness it brings to the heart. The images make it easier to meditate and help us focus during prayer. They encourage us to slow down and notice things that we might normally ignore because we are busy with everyday life.
This book reminds me that everything around us has a secret life and a deeper meaning if we take the time to look carefully. Sometimes we move through life without noticing the small and beautiful things around us. However, when we stop and look at love and attention, we can discover something special in ordinary moments.
For me, this is a book I would keep close to my prayer corner. It can help me create a quiet moment in my day when I can step away from distractions, reflect, and pray. I believe it is a useful book for anyone who wants to find more peace and develop a deeper appreciation for the world around them.
Overall, ‘The Secret Life of Everything’ teaches an important lesson: we should slow down, pay attention, and look at life with love. When we do this, we may discover that even ordinary things have something beautiful to reveal.
by Sr. Sheila Devane, MMM Ireland 26.09.2026
School has now started in Ireland after the long summer holidays for the children in the primary schools all over the country. The traffic is heavy again with families and buses ferrying the children whose school bags are bigger, brighter, and heavier than ever! After Mass one day last week the priest came down the aisle and greeted us all; he stopped at a family of young children to enquire if they had got their school bags ready; the two older boys were about to reply when a tiny girl from the next seat rushed forward to say she too had a school bag and was starting school! I remembered. I was once that very small girl. Let me tell you the story.
When I was three years old my twin sister and brother were born. We were living in a small town in the west of Ireland where everyone knew everyone and where the custom of visiting families with newborn babies was common, indeed it was expected. So, we had a lot of visitors saying immediately on arrival: … “We have come to see the twins.” Short visits became longer and there were oohs and aahs as they believed the baby girl was really the boy and the boy with his head full of curls must be the little girl! My father was the social welfare officer in the county, so he was a well-known figure though not a native of the area. Uptown one day he met Sr. Christina, a Sister of Mercy, and one greatly loved by the people. She stopped to enquire about my mother, called May, and her infant twins to which Dad replied immediately: “Well, they seem to be doing very well but our great wee 3-year-old, who was so self-contained up to now, has suddenly alarmed us: she stands at the top of the stairs and screams her head off when visitors arrive. At first, she only did this when they left but now, she is rushing upstairs to roar on their arrival. Poor May is at her wits end. ”
Sr. Christina didn’t seem in the least surprised and offered an immediate solution: “Maurice, we will bring Sheila into the junior infants’ class on Monday, just get her a small schoolbag and write her full name and date of birth on a piece of paper inside and we will give her a very low desk, a few crayons and a couple of pages from a jotter to keep her busy.”
When my older sister was getting her schoolbag out and ready for school, I was thrilled to see a bag being sown for me. Mammy was an excellent seamstress and had to quickly turn a small decorative cloth bag of her own into my school bag by adding two little straps and removing a few coloured buttons. I had a schoolbag; I was going to school.
Off I headed with daddy and my older sister, bag on back and skipping with joy on leaving the house and going to school. Sr. Christina was there at the gate, and she even showed me where to hang my coat on my own special hook beside my sister’s coat. I was then escorted into the most junior class with about ten other children all on their first day at school. I was at least one, if not two, years younger than my new companions.
Nowadays we have child psychologists, family therapists, and special support staff to help parents cope with their young children’s temper tantrums and sibling rivalry. Long ago, back in the 1940s, we were so blessed to have kind people like Sr. Christina & her Sisters of Mercy with life experience, a practical solution, and the freedom to offer the positive help that was most needed – even though the schoolbag was very small, and the 3-year-old schoolgirl herself pretty tiny too!
by Sr. Margaret Anne Meyer, MMM USA 23.09.2026
I can still remember the warm embrace of Sr. Salette Mahon as she welcomed me to Ogoja, Cross River State, Nigeria. She was the sister in charge and had a lovely way of making you feel at home. She made sure there was tasty food on the table, and we had many a chat over a cup of tea at home or at the end of a leprosy clinic many miles away. She loved looking after the complaints of the old, discharged leprosy patients and giving them a small stipend and medicines as needed. She also loved to raise hens and knew each one of them. The little chicks were painted pink or purple so the hawks would not get them. One day when Sr. Eileen Morrissey was going over our account books, she saw the strange sight of their colors and could not believe it. The hawks probably thought the same.
Sr. Trinitas Mc Mullen was Matron of the Maternity Hospital which was originally built to deliver babies but eventually turned into a general hospital. Everything was well run and in good order. Sometimes, Sr. Trinitas would ask me to help out with an emergency. Two young women had been seriously burned when a bus collided with a van carrying four barrels of petrol. The petrol entered the bus, and it all exploded into flames. The women had been in Ikom hospital the previous night and were then brought early one Sunday morning to the Maternity Hospital in Ogoja. They were so severely burned that there was no place left to insert an intravenous infusion. I performed cut downs which enabled them to receive the fluids. With many prayers and expert nursing care they survived. Both had extensive skin grafts. One woman, Maggie, needed plastic surgery. She had been a Staff Nurse in the Maternity Hospital. A Mass of thanksgiving was celebrated in the Cathedral, and 10,000 Naira was collected for her to have plastic surgery in Enugu. Her husband was praised for standing by her throughout all her suffering. Her young children had screamed when they first saw her on her arrival home after being away from them for over 6 months. Her face was very distorted. It was an awful tragedy, but the plastic surgery was successful and the family’s love for each other got them through the ordeal. Before very long she was back working in the Maternity Hospital again. I was very thankful to God for all His help and guidance in this difficult situation.
Sr. Chinyere Anyaorah was staffing in the children’s ward. Sr. Agnes Essien was doing outreach clinics for the Maternity Hospital. Sr. Therese Bernadette Mc Aweeney was in charge of the TBL, Tuberculosis and Leprosy Hospital which was across the road from the Maternity Hospital. The earlier Sisters had planted trees. These made a lovely walk or a nice downhill bicycle ride to the TBL Hospital. Sister Doctor Cecily Bourdillon was with me for 3 months before departing to prepare for our Mission in Sudan. Sr. Cecily taught me how to combine business with pleasure, and we visited many of her friends on our way to various leprosy meetings and clinics. One of which was the opening of the VVF, vesical vaginal fistula, Hospital in Itam. I had never seen such splendid and colorful celebrations and felt immensely proud that one of our Sister Doctors, Ann Ward, could initiate such a project, which would restore so many women with damaging birth injuries, to health.
I had been asked to take Sr. Cecily’s place. Why was God asking me to do that? I soon found out. And that is another story.
by Sr. Berna Nakimuli Uganda 19.09.2026
When I first came to Kansira, here in Uganda. I felt peace in my heart. Kansira is a new and growing place, resting beautifully along Lake Kyoga. The land is open, the air is fresh, and the people are welcoming. It is a place with many needs, but also with great hope.
In Kansira, the Medical Missionaries of Mary have built a health centre. For many people, this has changed their story. Before, getting health care was difficult. People had to travel far, and some suffered quietly because the clinics are too far away. Now, healing has come closer to home.
What touches me most is how close the people are to the Sisters. The MMM sisters live among them, share their lives and stories. I love and am inspired by the MMM way of life going to people of different cultures where human need is greatest. Here, the need for health care, education, and transport is very great, but very hopeful.
The health centre is a sign of love. Slowly, it will improve the health standards of the people of Kansira. Mothers will worry less. Children will grow healthier. The elderly will be cared for with love.
The people lovingly call the clinic “London.” Each time I hear this name, I smile. To them, it means something special. “London” is a symbol of hope along the shores of Lake Kyoga.
Kansira is still growing, but something beautiful has begun. With the presence of the MMM sisters and the new health centre, Kansira is becoming a place where sickness meets care, where need meets love, and where hope has truly found a home.
