As soon as I woke I rushed to the toilet and looked down into the pit. No red zip sat neatly on top of the pile, which appeared to be a heaving mass of maggots. If it had been there, it was gone forever now. Naturally I had not considered how I would have retrieved it, but now I was sure that it was a case of what goes down, never comes up.
After our regular breakfast of onion chapatis, egg and tea, we set off in good time because today I was going to take an early lesson for the other double group of form twos. There were the regular greetings to everyone along the way, in which we addressed older people with the respectful, “Shikamo” and they replied, “Marahaba,” and the reverse happened when younger people greeted us, except when people used very formal English to us. We were often bid, “Good Morning, Teacher,” at any time of the day.
Primary school students were on their way down the hill, with some balancing tied bundles of firewood sticks on their heads, to be used by the school cooks in preparing lunches for the students. Other small children, presumably under seven and too young for school, were playing unsupervised at their homes or round about, with the responsibility for babies who can sit up being turned over to quite young children, while parents are doing tasks and older siblings are at school. The only time I saw a two year old being uncooperative for her sister, who was trying to tie her onto her back to carry her, she was just left on her own. The sister didn’t go far but she and her companions weren’t making deals with the little one or offering inducements for her to ‘behave’, they just got on with their own interests. The lack of traffic obviously makes it possible for young children to be without adults, along with the closed and close nature of the community. Children’s assistance with the jobs that are necessary for the family is essential and we constantly saw them helping out. One tiny tot of only about three was walking down the road alone with a bucket half full of water, her little back twisted to one side as she took about five steps and then had to stop and rest before starting off again. There could be no question here about children having the chance to feel valued for their contributions to the family, for their contributions are many and vital.
I was on such a big high after my first session, an oral presentation with supportive vocab and sentence constructions on the board, and a little task for the students to remember and write down five or more things that they had learnt about me and my life in Australia and then presentations of their work to the class. Plenty of opportunities for Madam Simbee and me to bounce off each other, to have some light hearted moments with the students, to develop a bit of rapport, and for some questions from the students too. For those who finished early there were a couple of challenging questions that required the students to find out information from me before they could develop a theory for an answer. Some students really relished that task, in which they had to think logically and use their English for questions. The hour and a half whizzed by.
This time our morning tea, known as breakfast here, was boiled milk and boiled eggs, with Madam Simbe having bought milk from her neighbour who has a cow and collected eggs from her own hens. I was a little anxious since the ‘breakfast’ was at nearly the time of the scheduled parents’ meeting, but Madam Simbee said that people needed time to arrive, so the meeting would not start at the nominated hour. She was right, with groups dribbling in slowly and the 10 o’clock meeting starting at 11.
This meeting was with the parents and representatives of the scholarship students, and was being held at this time specially because Rosie and we would be there. We felt a bit like frauds, with our contribution to the running of the scholarship scheme so far being only as sponsors, and yet we were being thanked by one and all for everything. We needed to adjust to being representatives of the scheme, as well as individual sponsors, and to see that our role was as much to be conduits for all those in Australia with all those here. In that light, I began to feel a bit like Princess Margaret must have done, as royalty even if not the queen.
We sat out the front and the parents were sitting at desks rigidly arranged in lines in one of the classrooms.
The Head Master, Mr Chalala, asked for a chairperson to be chosen and Mr Costa, the village chairman, was selected for the role. Each person present introduced himself or herself and said the name of the student they represented and where they came from. Some people had walked or cycled for up to 20 kilometres. Items covered included reports from each area, problems associated with responsibility for students living away from home, alcohol consumption, reasons some students drop out of the program, problems with half scholarships, parental support for study versus need for students to do jobs when they go home on the weekends, lack of teachers (raised by Rosie), and other reasons for students failing. Parents spoke up well, with the really big issue being what happens at the end of form four.
Rosie spoke in Swahili and emphasised that the sponsorship gift is that of education, and that students should not be asking their sponsors for other gifts, although it is important that they send letters and let their sponsors know about themselves and their community. She underlined the importance of parents putting a priority on education if the students are to do well, explained about the computer being for the teachers and the students, with hopefully more in the future. It would give the students the opportunity at least to have a little experience with computers, which they may need to use in future jobs. Rosie urged parents to plan for the future for their children, and to put money aside now if they wanted them to go on with their education past form four. She explained that it is not an easy thing to find sponsors and administer everything, and that the scholarship scheme is not God. She gave an example of other pathways to good jobs and training with a form four qualification. Her talk was punctuated with Ticha calling her on the phone, which gave everyone a giggle. Parents thanked her, and a man presented her with a bag of tomatoes before she left, anxious about her children. Keith and Madam Simbee also left at that time, leaving me as the only member of the royal family still on deck. At the end of the meeting, the big question of the future after form four still lay before us. Mr Chalala introduced me to speak, so with no forethought and off the top of my head, I congratulated the parents for showing their support for the students and being there today, I thanked all those involved in the scheme in Australia and here – in the work and commitment that everyone has shown, particularly Joy, whose ears should have been burning with pride, and I reiterated the need for parents to look forward with their planning for their students. I finished by saying that I understood the anxiety that particularly the parents of this year’s form fours must be feeling, and that I would think creatively and learn all that I could about the situation.
To look into the eyes of parents who believe in what we believe in – that education is so important – but who really cannot imagine where the finances could come from, and so who know that the door will be closed on even the most promising of students, is very hard indeed. I was to find that to come to know some of the form four students, to work with them and see their potential, to walk up and down the road listening to their hopes and dreams, and their worries over their chances at completing secondary school, would make it impossible for me to walk away from this issue.
After a group photo, the parents went on their way and I raced home but Keith stayed at school to work on. 
The solar panel was up and running, but unfortunately the connections only allowed for the school computer to be powered, so our computer could still only be used on batteries. Bikes with two children on them flew past at incredible speeds, and girls passed with their arms free while their school books and water buckets were carried on their heads. Madam Simbee was my escort.
Poor Rosie was having trouble keeping up with the washing – the boys had diarrhoea. Keith had the keys to our room with him at school and had locked it, so I couldn’t have access to anything. It was a chance to do things with the children. Jarvah has an uncanny resemblance in my eyes, to Alan, his Australian grandfather. He is an investigator, playing with string, stools, leaves, a little puddle, my pen - making little communicative noises. He puts on a big cheesy grin with eyes nearly closed if a camera is pointed at him. Sebi is at that beautiful age when there is real understanding of stories and great enjoyment in hearing them again and in building on ideas. He likes to join in and to hear funny things. Life here is more complex for him than for Jarvah, because language and real communication is important at his age and can be frustrating as he is just regaining some of his Swahili. He is also wanting to join in with much older children, and that does not always work out exactly how he wants. He cries a fair bit, sometimes in frustration and sometimes in a kind of regression or to get his own way. There are plenty of cuddles and lots of attention for both children, but their mother’s knee is a much sought after place that they compete for. Rosie and the boys are missing Ticha, who is still in Dodoma. We sat in the shade on the steps and ate water melon, after first brushing off the ants.
The new house, slowly growing brick by brick, day by day, is having its roof beams put on. Two new kids were born in the goat maternity ward. Some teenage kids (goats) climbed the ladder on to the top of the pig pen and had to be helped down. Keith returned, and said he’d had lunch at school. School lunches have been paid for by donations organised by Joy, and the money will run out in October. It is absolutely so valuable for the students to eat to be able to learn well, and without lunch at school, the students would go home at one o’clock. The lucky ones would have some food and others would go without or be fobbed off with some alcohol to dull their hunger. On the days when there was a water shortage, and thus no lunch, school finished at lunchtime. The extra time in the afternoons, even without teachers in each class, provides a supported educational environment in which to work on application tasks with assistance on hand from fellow students and the teachers if required.
Father Godi sent a message to come over for power, but by the time we arrived, the carpenters had called it a day and wouldn’t be needing the generator on again until the morning. We met the sisters – two smiling, laughing and nodding ladies in blue habits and white veils, who run the kitchen, the hospital and dispensary, as well as supporting the community in other ways and serving God through devotion and action. I am not sure if they also have a role in the kindergarten. They were not fazed that we are vegetarians, but Father Godi was sorry that Rosie had sent an apology and would not be able to make it for dinner. Sister Anna Lydia speaks English, and she held my hand and chatted to me gently.
She was so pleased and amused by every one of my answers, and equally by her own very well expressed English questions and answers, as she escorted me all the way to Father Godi’s upstairs erie.
There began a joint lesson for Father Godi and his assistant priest, Father Abel, who was his contemporary in training since their secondary school days. Father Abel was unwell, suffering from malaria. I wrote my diary while Keith started his lesson. He was so patient and covered everything thoroughly. Father Godi was a keen and sharing student who asked to be able to stop at a certain point to check that he could repeat all that he had learnt without assistance. It was hard for me to concentrate amidst the non-stop talking and pleasant surprise at the computer’s ability to make a practice parish notice look so much better in colour and with different fonts. The large and dominating figure of Father Godi was pressed in beside the diminutive Father Abel who controlled the mouse. They discussed their task and laughed with delight at their achievements. Occasionally Keith’s unfamiliarity with the Open Office word processing program showed, and he had to back track on an instruction, but he took it all in his stride and continued patiently and with good humour. He spoke slowly and in short sentences. At one stage I couldn’t help laughing, when he, the atheist computer tutor, said in all seriousness, the words that belong to the priest, “If it is saved, it is not lost,” and Father Godi, without any sense of irony, replied, “Of course.” Throughout it all the choir was practising somewhere nearby, with their beautiful voices rising and falling in songs full of beat and energy.
Father Godi had some duties before dinner but it was late and there was no point in us going home. We sat on the upstairs verandah, looking out over the land beyond the compound towards the peach to mauve, sunset to dusk, changes in the sky. Soon the fathers joined us, and they told us of the long and arduous training that they undertook as priests and about the parish here and the changes that Father Godi and former priests have made. Reliant entirely on the collection and donations from abroad, even running the generator for the water pump was a colossal challenge with 1000 litres of water required each day. Developing the woodworking workshop and asking the Italian Catholic community to provide a tractor for the farms has generated some income to cover some costs. These activities and the tailoring training workshop have also provided employment for locals. A tailoring workshop, to teach locals job skills was also held here, and which Maria, Ticha’s niece, had attended. She had insisted on finishing off putting in the second zip in my camera bag for me, to show me her skills.
All the female students on scholarships board at the Mission and Father Godi is very much involved in the supervision of their studies and in their welfare. He spoke of his ambition for the students there to do well in their exams, as evidence that an educationally supportive environment after school hours assists students to make good progress.
We hadn’t anticipated sitting outside in the dark and we both silently hoped not to be bitten by any malaria carrying mosquitoes.
When dinner arrived, brought in by a student with a torch (since it was now quite dark), we moved to the dining table and it was only then that the lights were turned on. There had been no need to waste power just on talking. Father Abel was feeling most unwell, and explained that they are assuming he has malaria and he has started on the medication. If that doesn’t work he will take the bus to Dodoma on Monday to have a test to see what it wrong. It could just as easily be typhoid but there is no way of testing in the village at present. He once had both diseases at the same time and followed the same course of action, and after the diagnosis went on to take typhoid medication and then improved. I was astonished at the matter of fact way that the men talked about diseases that are each very serious in their own right. Children can die from them in days, and a diagnosis is six or more hours away on a four times a week bus and at a hospital where Gele had had to wait hours to be seen. The Mission hospital does not have a microscope to do the testing. Later we learnt that a local doctor has a microscope, but no-one has the expertise to do the testing. The list of basic needs here was extending.
After a very pleasant meal, a guest of the Mission who grew up as a son of this church, came in to join us. It was the local member of the ruling CCM party, Pasqual Constantine Degera. In impeccable English he answered our questions on education and the requirements to be met before the school here could be considered for adding forms five and six. Funding for education is increasing, with more teacher training and university places being in the pipeline. He explained that there is a gap in support for secondary education at present, with provision of primary education for all children taking priority. The widespread access to secondary schools to form four has been a recent big push.
On our way home, we stopped at the Mission study hall, where all the boarding girls were quietly sitting in a dully lit room, revising their work, doing homework and ‘studying’. It was Friday evening after nine o’clock! We were most impressed.
Father Godi told us how the Mission building and church were the best things to come out of World War II. Being at an Italian mission in a British Protectorate, the priests were considered to be enemy aliens when war was declared. They were given the option to be repatriated or interned here, so they asked to be interned at the Mission. Scottish priests of the same order came to take over and they were fairly harsh in their treatment of the Italians, who now could not carry out priestly duties and were put to labour. They built the main Mission building and the current Church, finishing just as the war did. For the Italians, it was a labour of love and devotion to God and the parish that he had called them to serve.
Father Godi finished with a plea for any assistance that we or our connections could give, and asked, with a smile, for a computer to make his lessons worthwhile in serving his flock. I suggested that he pray for assistance with that, and he said that he would, that he would pray that I would find a creative way to assist him. It felt as though we were being worked on, which we were, but given the plight of the people here, no wonder. He escorted us all the way home with his torch, to light the way in the pitch dark night in which all the stars seemed to stand out against the sky.
After our regular breakfast of onion chapatis, egg and tea, we set off in good time because today I was going to take an early lesson for the other double group of form twos. There were the regular greetings to everyone along the way, in which we addressed older people with the respectful, “Shikamo” and they replied, “Marahaba,” and the reverse happened when younger people greeted us, except when people used very formal English to us. We were often bid, “Good Morning, Teacher,” at any time of the day.
Primary school students were on their way down the hill, with some balancing tied bundles of firewood sticks on their heads, to be used by the school cooks in preparing lunches for the students. Other small children, presumably under seven and too young for school, were playing unsupervised at their homes or round about, with the responsibility for babies who can sit up being turned over to quite young children, while parents are doing tasks and older siblings are at school. The only time I saw a two year old being uncooperative for her sister, who was trying to tie her onto her back to carry her, she was just left on her own. The sister didn’t go far but she and her companions weren’t making deals with the little one or offering inducements for her to ‘behave’, they just got on with their own interests. The lack of traffic obviously makes it possible for young children to be without adults, along with the closed and close nature of the community. Children’s assistance with the jobs that are necessary for the family is essential and we constantly saw them helping out. One tiny tot of only about three was walking down the road alone with a bucket half full of water, her little back twisted to one side as she took about five steps and then had to stop and rest before starting off again. There could be no question here about children having the chance to feel valued for their contributions to the family, for their contributions are many and vital.
I was on such a big high after my first session, an oral presentation with supportive vocab and sentence constructions on the board, and a little task for the students to remember and write down five or more things that they had learnt about me and my life in Australia and then presentations of their work to the class. Plenty of opportunities for Madam Simbee and me to bounce off each other, to have some light hearted moments with the students, to develop a bit of rapport, and for some questions from the students too. For those who finished early there were a couple of challenging questions that required the students to find out information from me before they could develop a theory for an answer. Some students really relished that task, in which they had to think logically and use their English for questions. The hour and a half whizzed by.
This time our morning tea, known as breakfast here, was boiled milk and boiled eggs, with Madam Simbe having bought milk from her neighbour who has a cow and collected eggs from her own hens. I was a little anxious since the ‘breakfast’ was at nearly the time of the scheduled parents’ meeting, but Madam Simbee said that people needed time to arrive, so the meeting would not start at the nominated hour. She was right, with groups dribbling in slowly and the 10 o’clock meeting starting at 11.
This meeting was with the parents and representatives of the scholarship students, and was being held at this time specially because Rosie and we would be there. We felt a bit like frauds, with our contribution to the running of the scholarship scheme so far being only as sponsors, and yet we were being thanked by one and all for everything. We needed to adjust to being representatives of the scheme, as well as individual sponsors, and to see that our role was as much to be conduits for all those in Australia with all those here. In that light, I began to feel a bit like Princess Margaret must have done, as royalty even if not the queen.
We sat out the front and the parents were sitting at desks rigidly arranged in lines in one of the classrooms.
The Head Master, Mr Chalala, asked for a chairperson to be chosen and Mr Costa, the village chairman, was selected for the role. Each person present introduced himself or herself and said the name of the student they represented and where they came from. Some people had walked or cycled for up to 20 kilometres. Items covered included reports from each area, problems associated with responsibility for students living away from home, alcohol consumption, reasons some students drop out of the program, problems with half scholarships, parental support for study versus need for students to do jobs when they go home on the weekends, lack of teachers (raised by Rosie), and other reasons for students failing. Parents spoke up well, with the really big issue being what happens at the end of form four.Rosie spoke in Swahili and emphasised that the sponsorship gift is that of education, and that students should not be asking their sponsors for other gifts, although it is important that they send letters and let their sponsors know about themselves and their community. She underlined the importance of parents putting a priority on education if the students are to do well, explained about the computer being for the teachers and the students, with hopefully more in the future. It would give the students the opportunity at least to have a little experience with computers, which they may need to use in future jobs. Rosie urged parents to plan for the future for their children, and to put money aside now if they wanted them to go on with their education past form four. She explained that it is not an easy thing to find sponsors and administer everything, and that the scholarship scheme is not God. She gave an example of other pathways to good jobs and training with a form four qualification. Her talk was punctuated with Ticha calling her on the phone, which gave everyone a giggle. Parents thanked her, and a man presented her with a bag of tomatoes before she left, anxious about her children. Keith and Madam Simbee also left at that time, leaving me as the only member of the royal family still on deck. At the end of the meeting, the big question of the future after form four still lay before us. Mr Chalala introduced me to speak, so with no forethought and off the top of my head, I congratulated the parents for showing their support for the students and being there today, I thanked all those involved in the scheme in Australia and here – in the work and commitment that everyone has shown, particularly Joy, whose ears should have been burning with pride, and I reiterated the need for parents to look forward with their planning for their students. I finished by saying that I understood the anxiety that particularly the parents of this year’s form fours must be feeling, and that I would think creatively and learn all that I could about the situation.
To look into the eyes of parents who believe in what we believe in – that education is so important – but who really cannot imagine where the finances could come from, and so who know that the door will be closed on even the most promising of students, is very hard indeed. I was to find that to come to know some of the form four students, to work with them and see their potential, to walk up and down the road listening to their hopes and dreams, and their worries over their chances at completing secondary school, would make it impossible for me to walk away from this issue.
After a group photo, the parents went on their way and I raced home but Keith stayed at school to work on. The solar panel was up and running, but unfortunately the connections only allowed for the school computer to be powered, so our computer could still only be used on batteries. Bikes with two children on them flew past at incredible speeds, and girls passed with their arms free while their school books and water buckets were carried on their heads. Madam Simbee was my escort.Poor Rosie was having trouble keeping up with the washing – the boys had diarrhoea. Keith had the keys to our room with him at school and had locked it, so I couldn’t have access to anything. It was a chance to do things with the children. Jarvah has an uncanny resemblance in my eyes, to Alan, his Australian grandfather. He is an investigator, playing with string, stools, leaves, a little puddle, my pen - making little communicative noises. He puts on a big cheesy grin with eyes nearly closed if a camera is pointed at him. Sebi is at that beautiful age when there is real understanding of stories and great enjoyment in hearing them again and in building on ideas. He likes to join in and to hear funny things. Life here is more complex for him than for Jarvah, because language and real communication is important at his age and can be frustrating as he is just regaining some of his Swahili. He is also wanting to join in with much older children, and that does not always work out exactly how he wants. He cries a fair bit, sometimes in frustration and sometimes in a kind of regression or to get his own way. There are plenty of cuddles and lots of attention for both children, but their mother’s knee is a much sought after place that they compete for. Rosie and the boys are missing Ticha, who is still in Dodoma. We sat in the shade on the steps and ate water melon, after first brushing off the ants.
The new house, slowly growing brick by brick, day by day, is having its roof beams put on. Two new kids were born in the goat maternity ward. Some teenage kids (goats) climbed the ladder on to the top of the pig pen and had to be helped down. Keith returned, and said he’d had lunch at school. School lunches have been paid for by donations organised by Joy, and the money will run out in October. It is absolutely so valuable for the students to eat to be able to learn well, and without lunch at school, the students would go home at one o’clock. The lucky ones would have some food and others would go without or be fobbed off with some alcohol to dull their hunger. On the days when there was a water shortage, and thus no lunch, school finished at lunchtime. The extra time in the afternoons, even without teachers in each class, provides a supported educational environment in which to work on application tasks with assistance on hand from fellow students and the teachers if required.
Father Godi sent a message to come over for power, but by the time we arrived, the carpenters had called it a day and wouldn’t be needing the generator on again until the morning. We met the sisters – two smiling, laughing and nodding ladies in blue habits and white veils, who run the kitchen, the hospital and dispensary, as well as supporting the community in other ways and serving God through devotion and action. I am not sure if they also have a role in the kindergarten. They were not fazed that we are vegetarians, but Father Godi was sorry that Rosie had sent an apology and would not be able to make it for dinner. Sister Anna Lydia speaks English, and she held my hand and chatted to me gently.
She was so pleased and amused by every one of my answers, and equally by her own very well expressed English questions and answers, as she escorted me all the way to Father Godi’s upstairs erie.There began a joint lesson for Father Godi and his assistant priest, Father Abel, who was his contemporary in training since their secondary school days. Father Abel was unwell, suffering from malaria. I wrote my diary while Keith started his lesson. He was so patient and covered everything thoroughly. Father Godi was a keen and sharing student who asked to be able to stop at a certain point to check that he could repeat all that he had learnt without assistance. It was hard for me to concentrate amidst the non-stop talking and pleasant surprise at the computer’s ability to make a practice parish notice look so much better in colour and with different fonts. The large and dominating figure of Father Godi was pressed in beside the diminutive Father Abel who controlled the mouse. They discussed their task and laughed with delight at their achievements. Occasionally Keith’s unfamiliarity with the Open Office word processing program showed, and he had to back track on an instruction, but he took it all in his stride and continued patiently and with good humour. He spoke slowly and in short sentences. At one stage I couldn’t help laughing, when he, the atheist computer tutor, said in all seriousness, the words that belong to the priest, “If it is saved, it is not lost,” and Father Godi, without any sense of irony, replied, “Of course.” Throughout it all the choir was practising somewhere nearby, with their beautiful voices rising and falling in songs full of beat and energy.
Father Godi had some duties before dinner but it was late and there was no point in us going home. We sat on the upstairs verandah, looking out over the land beyond the compound towards the peach to mauve, sunset to dusk, changes in the sky. Soon the fathers joined us, and they told us of the long and arduous training that they undertook as priests and about the parish here and the changes that Father Godi and former priests have made. Reliant entirely on the collection and donations from abroad, even running the generator for the water pump was a colossal challenge with 1000 litres of water required each day. Developing the woodworking workshop and asking the Italian Catholic community to provide a tractor for the farms has generated some income to cover some costs. These activities and the tailoring training workshop have also provided employment for locals. A tailoring workshop, to teach locals job skills was also held here, and which Maria, Ticha’s niece, had attended. She had insisted on finishing off putting in the second zip in my camera bag for me, to show me her skills.All the female students on scholarships board at the Mission and Father Godi is very much involved in the supervision of their studies and in their welfare. He spoke of his ambition for the students there to do well in their exams, as evidence that an educationally supportive environment after school hours assists students to make good progress.
We hadn’t anticipated sitting outside in the dark and we both silently hoped not to be bitten by any malaria carrying mosquitoes.
When dinner arrived, brought in by a student with a torch (since it was now quite dark), we moved to the dining table and it was only then that the lights were turned on. There had been no need to waste power just on talking. Father Abel was feeling most unwell, and explained that they are assuming he has malaria and he has started on the medication. If that doesn’t work he will take the bus to Dodoma on Monday to have a test to see what it wrong. It could just as easily be typhoid but there is no way of testing in the village at present. He once had both diseases at the same time and followed the same course of action, and after the diagnosis went on to take typhoid medication and then improved. I was astonished at the matter of fact way that the men talked about diseases that are each very serious in their own right. Children can die from them in days, and a diagnosis is six or more hours away on a four times a week bus and at a hospital where Gele had had to wait hours to be seen. The Mission hospital does not have a microscope to do the testing. Later we learnt that a local doctor has a microscope, but no-one has the expertise to do the testing. The list of basic needs here was extending.
After a very pleasant meal, a guest of the Mission who grew up as a son of this church, came in to join us. It was the local member of the ruling CCM party, Pasqual Constantine Degera. In impeccable English he answered our questions on education and the requirements to be met before the school here could be considered for adding forms five and six. Funding for education is increasing, with more teacher training and university places being in the pipeline. He explained that there is a gap in support for secondary education at present, with provision of primary education for all children taking priority. The widespread access to secondary schools to form four has been a recent big push.
On our way home, we stopped at the Mission study hall, where all the boarding girls were quietly sitting in a dully lit room, revising their work, doing homework and ‘studying’. It was Friday evening after nine o’clock! We were most impressed.
Father Godi told us how the Mission building and church were the best things to come out of World War II. Being at an Italian mission in a British Protectorate, the priests were considered to be enemy aliens when war was declared. They were given the option to be repatriated or interned here, so they asked to be interned at the Mission. Scottish priests of the same order came to take over and they were fairly harsh in their treatment of the Italians, who now could not carry out priestly duties and were put to labour. They built the main Mission building and the current Church, finishing just as the war did. For the Italians, it was a labour of love and devotion to God and the parish that he had called them to serve.Father Godi finished with a plea for any assistance that we or our connections could give, and asked, with a smile, for a computer to make his lessons worthwhile in serving his flock. I suggested that he pray for assistance with that, and he said that he would, that he would pray that I would find a creative way to assist him. It felt as though we were being worked on, which we were, but given the plight of the people here, no wonder. He escorted us all the way home with his torch, to light the way in the pitch dark night in which all the stars seemed to stand out against the sky.
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