Could you introduce yourself and tell me a little about yourself?
Well, I am a priest of the Congregation of the Mission, founded by Saint Vincent de Paul 400 years ago. We are celebrating that anniversary this year. He was a pioneer in serving the poorest 400 years ago in seventeenth century France, especially in forming young missionaries.
I was born in Argentina. My parents are of Slovenian origin. They had to leave after the Second World War because of communist persecution of Christians and of the faith. My mother and father were believers and had to flee. My father was meant to be killed. He escaped from a mass grave where communists had killed more than five thousand people. He was the only survivor. In that moment, he prayed, and he lived.
At the age of seven, I felt that Jesus was a powerful example for my life, that he was a man who was God, yet so close to the poor that he captured my heart. I said to myself that this was the one I wanted to follow. So, I followed him into the priesthood. At 20, while still in Argentina, I had finished my studies and was already in the novitiate with the Lazarist priests. Later, I did two missions in Argentina among the Mapuche people and in the north of the country. I saw with my own eyes how people are excluded. That experience shaped me.
I began studying philosophy with the Jesuits in Argentina. One of my professors taught me for six months. He later became Pope Francis. When I was 20, the Congregation of the Mission was looking for volunteers for the mission outreach work in Madagascar. I said I was ready. A Slovenian community supported me in becoming a missionary. From 1968 to 1970 I went to Slovenia, which was still under communist rule. I saw the country my parents came from, a beautiful and faith-filled place that also captured my heart.
When I finished philosophy, I asked not to be ordained too early. I wanted to spend a year or two in regency. I planned to go to Madagascar to get to know the country before becoming a priest, going simply as a young worker. My father was a bricklayer and taught me the trade during school holidays from the age of ten. There were eight of us children and I was the eldest boy. I learned masonry and said: I could pay for my trip by working. They agreed. So, I went to Madagascar from 1970 to 1972.
It was an extraordinary experience because I worked where white people usually did not. I learned to work as everyone else did. We worked together. In Argentina, I had played a lot of sport and, especially soccer, I was often the only white player in the team at the time. Between the age of 22 and 24, through soccer, I met my best mates because we were all equal on the field. We ran under the scorching forty degree sun, humid and windy. We threw ourselves into the game. We celebrated goals together as friends.
After two years, I returned and went to France to complete my theology studies at the Institut Catholique de Paris. In 1975, once I had finished theology, I returned to Argentina and on 28 September I was ordained in the largest sanctuary in the country. This year marks fifty years of priesthood for me. So that is who I am, a man, a human being, who has followed Jesus all the way, especially among the poorest.
So for you, the congregation you chose was really important because it echoed what you felt called to do?
Yes. I spend a lot of time in a Salesians parish in Argentina, but I chose the Lazarists because they were missionaries. Still, I learned much from the Salesians of Don Bosco and his charism of welcoming and caring for children and young people. Today, we have 21,525 young people studying, singing, dancing, playing sport and praying.
Could you tell me a little more about the second part of your life in Madagascar?
My first fifteen years in Madagascar were like any missionary’s. I served in the south east, about 800 kilometres from the capital. The people there were very poor, but dignified. Their faith was striking. People who had nothing would come to pray. That poverty made a deep impression on me. I saw starving children for the first time, many children dying, the sick unable to access care. Houses were simple, one room for everyone, no privacy. Water was far away and contaminated. Yet despite all that, there was great joy in living and sharing.
But you cannot say “no” and stand by doing nothing. Without missionaries in Madagascar and in many African countries, the situation would have been far worse. Religious sisters ran clinics and hospitals everywhere. Priests always built schools as well as churches, so that people could become more educated, become empowered and create a more certain future for themselves. The needs were constant. Population growth is huge and administration painfully slow, which is unacceptable for such a poor country. In a place like that, everyone must roll up their sleeves and work, not put everything off.
The people were forgotten. There was a dictatorship. Radio and television said everything was fine while I saw death around me. In the villages, people would say “Father, eat with us, have a coffee.” But the water was contaminated. I became ill with up to seven different parasites in my stomach, not all at once, but still debilitating. I could no longer stand properly. I had to stop. My community was looking for a director of spiritual formation for future priests in the capital. They chose me. I told them I had another plan. I wanted a sabbatical year, thinking I would never return. They said they would look after my health and asked me to stay three years, then take the sabbatical. I accepted.
A week later, arriving in Antananarivo, a sick man was looking for a priest. I went to see him, walking through the rubbish dump. I saw hundreds of children fighting with animals for scraps. It was a shock. That night I could not sleep. At midnight I knelt down, raised my head and said Lord, help me do something for these children.
The next day I returned. They told me: “get lost, white man, what do you want?” I said I wanted to talk, but not standing in the street. It was unsafe. The man had a small hut made of plastic and cardboard. We crawled inside and sat. I asked if there was a committee. Yes. They brought about ten people who sat in a circle on the floor. There began the movement we call “Akamasoa”, which means good friends in Malagasy. There, on the ground, in that hut, I said that if they loved their children, I was ready to help. I had no money and no reputation, but I knew God never abandons the poor. That was the beginning.
We chose to be permanently present. Before that, missionaries and religious of different churches would come for an hour a week on different days. I said we could not serve the poor one hour a week. We must be with them, care for them when they are sick, create jobs, work alongside them. I began building small, better houses. I asked help from religious communities in Antananarivo. With the first contributions we built small wooden houses with tin roofs. We welcomed people living on the streets.
For the first four years, I went out at night into the streets, saying you cannot stay here with your children, come with us. I invited them, never forced them. They came. We asked three things: Are you ready to work? Yes. Will your children go to school? Yes. Do you accept to abide by the rules and the order that guide our villages? Yes. Work, school and following the rules. Then, I said we will overcome poverty.
Very early on I asked the cardinal for his blessing, he gave me permission to baptise and celebrate the sacraments. From then on, all who came without a home were not just beneficiaries, but decided to also become parishioners, our brothers and sisters. At first, we were a few thousand. Today there are more than five thousand families, more than forty thousand people.
We began schooling under a tree with food and songs. Today we have 21,525 students, childcare centres, six primary schools, four middle schools, four high schools and one university. We welcome young people from across the country. We have never advertised and it is always full. Madagascar has 23 regions and we receive students from 22 or possibly 23 of them. At the university, there are about 1,400 students. It is a miracle I never expected. We have been fighting for 36 years and continue today. Five presidents have come and gone. Some have died and the latest was chased out by the crowd. We remain. It is the perseverance of God. I came to Madagascar in the name of Jesus. He is the founder. I am a servant.
I now have 950 teachers, all Malagasy, from across the country. More than half of them, over 500, are former street children from the dump site who are now teachers. The future is already growing among us. People often ask what will happen after you? Life goes on. It is God’s work. I started it, others will continue, hopefully in the same spirit. All I can do is give example. The charism comes from God and they must nurture it in themselves so the mission continues.
I am not afraid of killers because the name of God does not die. A work of solidarity and fraternity like ours cannot die because there will always be people who suffer and awaken that spirit. We must build hundreds of houses, roads, water wells and new maternity units. We have five maternities and four cemeteries. Who has five maternity wards and four cemeteries? It means we accompany people from birth to death. Not because we planned it that way but because the State did nothing for the poorest. God gave us the spirit, strength, faith, love and charisms to act.
Inside the country, there is much to do. Many mission and government schools ask us to take their students. We do. There is no shortage of projects or work. Madagascar is among the ten poorest countries in the world, yet the people are resourceful, and young people are gifted in music, singing and art.
When poverty rises, we must read the signs of the times and understand the consequences for the nation and its youth. Graduates like midwives have no work because there are no new hospitals, maternity wards or clinics build by the State.
The projects are huge and constant. I am here in Sydney for the third time, invited by Father Jan who has helped us for fifteen years. Because this work requires significant funds, I must travel widely.
Our Sunday Mass has become a gathering of people from around the world. Before Covid, on Easter Day, we had worshippers from 33 countries and all five continents. That day I danced before the altar to thank God. A place of exclusion has become a place of gathering through the power of God. Tourists come often. A woman told me in France last June: “Father, I will return to Madagascar just to go to your Mass.” There are between eight and ten thousand people, seventy five percent children and young people. That is where hope is. In many European churches I find a hundred people, few young, no children. Hope is alive among us, and we must not stop.
This work is God’s work and I do not fully understand it because it has gone beyond anything we imagined. As I said, we have five maternity units and four cemeteries. When people saw that we buried the poor with dignity, according to custom and with love, they understood. We welcome many who come from nowhere. Once you begin building a town, it never ends.
People ask about our projects. When you have forty thousand people and have begun a city, it is endless. At the start we did not take many photos because it was expensive. Young people born later do not believe what it was like before. I have photos and examples. We must never despair. We must continue and believe with the people of God. Our liturgy is alive. Our Masses last three hours. Tourists stay and say the time flies.
Right now, we face a difficult moment. Recently, the president was removed and left the country, and the Army has taken power for two years. All government projects are suspended. The poor will suffer even more. It will take time for international trust to return. We must pray that those now in power are genuine, transparent and serve the people. We forget easily that we are only passing through, whether in the Church or the State.
Akamasoa reflects today’s vision of evangelisation in all its forms, spirit of service, participation and communion. It is an extraordinary human example you have described. How do you collaborate as a Managed Fund Partner with Catholic Mission and what do you see for the future?
Madagascar has 30 million people. Eighty percent live below the poverty line. It is one of the youngest countries in the world, with an average age of 18 to 20. We have done everything from nothing. Often we must create jobs because there are not enough investors. After what has just happened politically, many will leave. During the protests, shops and businesses were destroyed and burned. Some will never return. The poor will lose work. So, we must continue to create.
We employ three thousand people, including about one thousand in construction. We build our villages and schools. We have two quarries. One of them is called the Cathedral because it is carved by hand. It can hold twenty thousand people. Pope Francis blessed it five years ago. We celebrate Mass there three times a year at dawn for Ascension, Assumption and All Saints. It is beautiful.
Father Jan and his association here in Sydney help us. I have come for a Gala event to encourage others. I call on all who assist, including large organisations. I bear witness myself. That is why I go to Europe twice a year, to France, Belgium and Slovenia.
When I say we are forty thousand people, with 21,525 students, housing, roads, water and new schools, we need funds to pay three thousand workers every week. I do not say the amount because we have been attacked three times. The last time was in the middle of the night. We called our villages. Two thousand five hundred people came. Unarmed, through solidarity, we drove away the attackers.
Many come asking for help for everything. I tell them they are at the wrong address. They must go to the Ministry of Education or Health. But no one is there. When God does good, he does it for everyone. That is why the State has accepted us. Our work is uncomfortable for the State because it makes them ask how a missionary could unite so many. It is not me. It is Jesus.
To continue, we must not fall into excessive bureaucracy. Sometimes procedures become more important than the school or the house we need to build. We are transparent. Visitors see everything. A man once told me: “You did not tell the whole truth. You understated the scale of this little project.” I said “My brother, what you see makes you the witness.”
This work can provoke jealousy. There is nothing wrong with building beautiful schools for the poor. Beauty is not forbidden to the poor. Every person is made in the image of God. We do things well so they last a hundred years.
Australia has 26 million people. Madagascar, ten times smaller in size, already has 30 million. Here, with such abundance, we need to awaken generosity in everyone, Christian or not. I believe one day the world will need to be governed universally. The United Nations should defend the rights of children first: health care, food, education, clean water, a dignified home. There is so much wealth. We must awaken the sense of solidarity. Everyone should give something. We must persuade, not impose. When people know something is real, they want to help.
Where we live, no poor person will say I will die for lack of care or shelter. We treat and welcome. The poor die in a home with dignity. It is a human duty.
We must awaken our brothers and sisters. Some do not pray but are generous. If we are human, we can help one another. If we are believers and brothers and sisters in Christ, let us think each year of just one poor person and give to an organisation we trust.
The Malagasy people are resilient. In Africa, we have been exploited. The new authorities say they will restore justice and serve the people. Without faith, it would be very difficult. Life there is hard. Reality is difficult and people take advantages of the ruthless chaos or fall in problematic behaviour. But with time, prayer and meetings, things change. Among our forty thousand people, eighty percent have already changed. Twenty percent still struggle with drugs, alcohol, prostitution or theft. Now they have a goal. People have regained dignity and care for their children so they can have a better life.
Thirty six years of struggle, fifty two years living there. It is hard to summarise in half an hour interview.
Do you think that with Pope Leo XIV, who has been a missionary, the Church will grow in unity and solidarity, not only among believers but more widely?
I am convinced and I hope it with all my heart. If Pope Leo XIV was elected, it is because he spent twenty years in Peru among the poorest in the Andes. He will never forget that. I hope he never forgets his experience as a bishop among the poor. It will be his compass, his guide for supporting the poor and encouraging sharing. He has already emphasised missionary action. We had forgotten mission. Today we cannot go out with loudspeakers in the street. We need new ways. In our parish, even people who do not pray come to Mass. Two French atheists, on separate Sundays, told me after Mass that they were atheists but left feeling changed. I told them to sort that out with the One above. Conversion comes. Many say that if Masses were as joyful as ours, the churches would be full. Every Sunday we have newcomers, tourists from many countries. Easter was extraordinary. Ours is the only place where people applaud you when you go to pray.
We are doing mission. People talk about it afterwards. Even those who criticise the Church recognise the good they see. It rekindles hope and faith. The missionary energy Pope Leo XIV brings will be important for the entire universal Church.
A final word for Australians people?
Be generous, my friends in Australia. Be generous because, in the end, we will be judged only by the good we have done in our lives. Thank you.
