July 1985 Print

HAVING RETURNED from South America on the Vigil of the Consecration of the priestly Society of St. Pius X to the Immaculate Heart of Mary, His Excellency Mgr. Lefebvre, after staying a brief while in the midst of his family on the occasion of the Feast of the Nativity, departed right after the Epiphany on a new journey. One might think that, being "retired," the Archbishop might be able to get some rest . . . but that would be not to know him at all and if we were to narrate all his activities in detail all these pages would not suffice.

Monseigneur, you have just returned from a journey which enabled you to renew your acquaintance with Black Africa—so dear to your heart—and in particular to return to your original mission territory. How many years had you been away from Gabon?

Archbishop Lefebvre: I had been in Africa very briefly, but I had not really gone to Gabon since 1945 . . . and it was not without emotion that I was reunited there with some of my former students and parishioners. But Father Patrick Groche, who accompanied me, will relate all that to you.

Without any doubt our readers will be delighted to follow the Archbishop along the footsteps of the "Father Marcel" of old . . .

Father Groche, you have been in Africa several times, but on this last occasion you had the privilege of accompanying the Archbishop. Everyone is familiar with the missionary "career" of Mgr. Lefebvre who, from a simple Holy Ghost Father, became the Bishop, then the Archbishop of Dakar, and Apostolic Delegate for all of French-speaking Africa. That is to say that if the Archbishop consecrated the ardor of his youth to the apostolate, this took place in black Africa and that, naturally, he left there not only numerous and remarkable works but also a part of his heart. How many times have we not heard him say: "If France had not betrayed her mission, if we had stayed there twenty or thirty years more, black Africa would be entirely Catholic!"

Fr. Groche: We made our first stopover in Senegal, at Dakar. It was 82 degrees outside whereas we had just left Rome with four inches of snow and fourteen degrees. Sixty-eight degrees difference, that's quite a change.

Except for a brief trip in 1964 when he was still Superior General of the Holy Ghost Fathers, the Archbishop had not returned to Senegal since he resigned his duties as Archbishop there, more than twenty years ago.

It was with a white cassock with purple buttons, wearing a purple cincture, that the Archbishop made his return to African soil. He was received very warmly by his successor, Cardinal Thiandoum, whom he had ordained a priest years before. The latter gave witness of his affection for Mgr. Lefebvre and they discussed the state of the Church.

Did you go to the Carmelite convent where you had celebrated Mass several times in the past?

Of course! The Carmel is at Sebikotan, before Thies, on the route coming from Dakar. When His Grace was named Archbishop, one of his first concerns had been to bear up his missionary work through the prayers of a group of Carmelites he had brought from the Carmel of Emmanuel, of Cholet.

Those of our dear Carmelites who had known the Archbishop at that time were so happy to see him again, to assist on Saturday and then Sunday at the Holy Sacrifice which he celebrated in their chapel. It really was a great joy for them to welcome the founder of their community, whose picture still hangs on the wall of their parlor.

We then visited several other communities. During these travels I remarked that the Archbishop, using a little foresight, protected his cassock with a sort of khaki coat which he called his "dust-buster" . . . thus he always arrived impeccably clean while my own cassock was no longer exactly snow-white!

It was the same with his hat, an extraordinary hat which he had taken out of his old trunks: a sort of bushman's hat to protect himself from the sun or the dust . . . this astonishing headgear can be stuffed in some traveling bag or left forgotten on the seat of a car to serve as a cushion. Anyhow, in wearing it, it gets back its old form.

Reunion at Fatik with the missionary Sisters.

Then we went to Popinguin, a center of Marian pilgrimages at Senegal. Over there is a miraculous statue of the Most Holy Virgin. Carried in procession by a priest, it is the object of great veneration and of a pilgrimage which brings together the Senegalese Catholics on August 15. We prayed there that the Holy Mother of the Savior deign to bless our voyage.

There is at Popinguin a novitiate of Senegalese nuns, the Sisters of the Holy Heart of Mary, who received us very well. Some of them had known His Grace when he was still their archbishop. Everywhere we were very well received. That's partly because of African custom, but mostly because it was Mgr. Lefebvre!

At the same time, while staying at Rufisque, we stopped over with some Brothers who used to make the furniture for churches and sacristies, as well as beds, tables and chairs for religious communities. They even made the frames for some buildings. We visited one church—His Grace had long ago helped in its construction—and it was the Brothers who had made the frame with their own hands and lifted it up . . . a frame twelve meters wide.

But where would they find woods, and trees?

That is something of a tragedy . . . because Islam has invaded Senegal. The Moslems do not allow the trees to endure and their numerous flocks are fond of them. As soon as they see a shrub, the shepherds cut it down and give it to their animals, which devour everything in their path, or sometimes they cut it to make a fire and cook their food. This happens so often, so regularly, that it becomes a desert. No more vegetation, no more humidity retained. The heat absorbs the humidity and the clouds rain down elsewhere. So, there is drought, the desert, famine. We came across an immense flock of dromedaries that left nothing behind it. With Islam the desert engulfs everything more and more. One can follow their progression on a map.

Islam is against man, against nature, because their shepherds succeed only in desolating the land, favoring the progression of drought; they deliver man up to slavery. In effect, they peddle cloths, cheap items, and sell them to families who get into debt and can no longer pay. One day, with threats, they say to their debtors, "To free yourselves, give us an infant." And the family, seeing no other way out, gives in to pressure, gives up a child, which the musulmans take away and sell as a slave. If it is a girl, it's even easier.

"Father Marcel" Returns to Gabon

After our arrival at Libreville, the Archbishop went to greet Archbishop Anguile, and then Mgr. N'Dong, a bishop now in retirement, but who lives at the Archbishop's residence and who was a student of Mgr. Lefebvre. At the Archbishop's residence was another of his former students, Mgr. Obamba, Bishop of Mouila.

Did His Grace receive a warm welcome?

Oh yes, certainly. His Grace was invited to stay at the Archbishop's residence. He had not been this well received in a long time—he was no longer used to it! And as though it were Saint Marcel's feast day, the Archbishop of the place wanted to toast Mgr. Lefebvre with champagne.

Without losing any time, Mgr. N'Dong arranged a visit with Mr. Omar Bongo, President of the Republic of Gabon who received the Archbishop the next day at noon. The Archbishop told the President that he had come to see his former students —of whom three are now bishops—but that he doubted he would be able to meet the Bishop of Franceville, Mgr. Felicien Makouaka, because Franceville is eight hundred kilometers from Libreville. (It takes four days to go there by car.) Then the President protested: "But yes, Your Grace, you cannot come here without seeing him. You absolutely must go there." Then, after a moment of reflection, he said, "I am putting an airplane at your disposal."

Thus we borrowed the presidential plane to get us to Franceville.

Mgr. Makouaka was notified in advance by the President and waited on the airfield, where there was a very warm reunion with Mgr. Lefebvre. We went directly to the Archbishop's residence where His Grace stayed, along with Mgr. N'Dong, who accompanied us on our stay, although he was seventy-nine years old.

It was very nice . . . we found bishops in their soutanes, wearing the pectoral cross and purple shoes and stockings. Mgr. N'Dong also had a purple cincture. Here finally were bishops dressed like bishops! Indeed the majority of native priests wear their cassocks. Alas! It is not as frequent with the missionaries or white fathers.

We visited the city with Mgr. Makouaka—a very beautiful village which is also the home of the President who was originally from that region. It is a modern village, served by a network of roads such as we do not have in France, everywhere four lane highways, crossing the very uneven countryside. There is a multitude of hills, pressed one against another. The roads go around the sides or in between. The landscape has many valleys and the important people in the village have their villas on the hilltops. The bishop's residence is also on a summit which dominates the countryside.

Archbishop Lefebvre, during his visit to Libreville, with the students of Saint Mary's School.

The bishop had us visit his parishes, especially St. Hilary's where there was a missionary priest, Fr. Jean-Jacques, who was being visited by his mother. This lady—one of our friends—was happy to meet the Archbishop, for she had never had the chance to do so in France!

Then we went to the mission school. It is a school for the formation of primary school teachers run by a layman now, an extremely devout European professor. He told us about the difficulties he had encountered in his work, his extreme disappointment to find that fewer and fewer young women were coming for courses. Very often, he said, after the fourth year, that is, when they are barely fourteen years old, they become pregnant. Sometimes, after giving birth, they take up classes again. Then it begins all over again! Thus there are fewer and fewer schoolgirls and that poses a serious problem because many teachers are necessary to educate the young children.

Are there still any schools where the nuns teach?

Practically all the schools issued from the Catholic missions, but as there are fewer and fewer vocations, there are fewer nuns and brothers who continue to direct, to give a formation to the staff. Thus the teaching staff becomes more and more laicized. At St. Hilary's it is a layman who directs it, lay people who teach, and there are no more brothers or nuns. The nuns still take care of the kindergarten. Evidently it no longer has the same character.

We visited other missions also, in other villages, where we met brothers, nuns and priests who had known the Archbishop—both Europeans and Africans. Everywhere we received an extremely warm welcome.

Then in Africa, the Archbishop is not "avoided like the plague" as in Europe?

Oh, no! On the contrary. It was touching, everywhere you heard people say, "Oh! Monseigneur Lefebvre!" Everybody remembered him, twenty, forty years later!

Is that perhaps because there has been a great deal of talk about him?

Everywhere there are traces of his apostolate, of all he had built up in Africa. Also, it's because of who Archbishop Lefebvre is. For many, he is still the "father of Africa."

That must have made him feel some emotion and perhaps did the Archbishop prefer that it be you yourself who related this extraordinary welcome?

Of course, he was moved, all the more because he had left young men and women whom he now found grandfathers and grandmothers with white hair.

The faithful clearly manifested their attachment to the Holy Mass, to the traditional liturgy. They were so happy to find the liturgy, the Latin, the Gregorian Chant, as in the old days! They don't like the new changes but many take whatever is given to them. Others, on the contrary, have deserted the churches . . . as in Europe . . .

Donguila: Good Memories

At an hour and a quarter's distance from Libreville we went to Donguila where the Archbishop had been a simple missionary priest for two years.

After his arrival at Gabon he had spent six years at Libreville as Superior and professor at the major seminary named after Holy Mary. He also taught at the minor seminary and at the novitiate of a community of nuns. The bishop from Libreville judged him to be very tired—many others would have been after less work that that—and sent him to the bush country to rest. At that time, they did not go back to France for a rest every year but every seven years—it was a long time.

Thus the Archbishop found himself at Donguila. But rest? Was His Grace usually in the habit of resting? Within two years he had left behind so many memories that his return, after so many years, is worth relating.

The schoolchildren had been dispensed from class for the occasion. Some two hundred little boys and girls, in their fine multi-colored costumes, were lined up under a mango tree in the courtyard, and gave His Grace a welcome he will not easily forget.

A chant with several verses had been composed to recall the various memories, and everybody in the choir took up the refrain: "Good day, Your Excellency, Alleluia, welcome to Donguila! Alleluia!" And they banged their hands and feet according to the African rhythms. Receptions like that really touch the heart.

Then the older ladies made a circle around the Archbishop. They had not seen him since his departure and they shouted: "Oh! Mgr. Lefebvre, Father Marcel, but you haven't changed! Eighty years old! You don't look it!" Everybody reached for his neck to embrace him.

Then there was the Mass, a "Mass like in the old days," a magnificent Mass! Twelve men and three women of Donguila and Libreville made up the choir. Without practising, they chanted the Mass of the Epiphany as if they had always chanted it: the Introit, Alleluia, Offertory, and the Kyriale of the Mass of the Angels. Everybody could see that they chanted magnificently. They brought to it all their faith, all their fervor. When they pretend that Gregorian Chant—advocated even by Vatican II—is accessible only to an elite, that is false! If indeed some of those assisting were well educated, above all they were composed of simple people, and young and old alike chanted very well.

"Father Marcel" poses with new and old friends for a group portrait.

Then the Archbishop spoke. He called to mind the memories of former times, related some stories. He invited the children to follow the good examples of the older people. Everybody was very happy. His Grace said, among other things, that he hoped that one day, if it was the will of the good God, that a great seminary would stand once more at Gabon. The enthusiastic people applauded.

After the Mass, the whole village came out to the cemetery to pray at the tomb of a cousin of the Archbishop who had come to help him and who was called Father Paul, although he was not a priest. Having died of yellow fever, he was buried at the cemetery of Donguila.

Then everybody came back to the village for the meal—the family feast—which the oldest of the women had prepared. They served Makabo or yams, plantain (a large banana which they eat cooked), the traditional broiled chicken, broiled fish and rice with sauce seasoned with peppers. There were all sorts of good things carefully prepared by the ladies who were so happy to be reunited with their "Father Marcel." Some of the older folks proposed toasts, calling to mind the past, their attachment to the Church and to the person of the Archbishop, to whom his former parishioners offered a beautiful bust of the Blessed Virgin, finely sculpted in stone from the countryside.

They chanted and danced according to the African custom. But everything has an end . . . we had to tear ourselves away from such kindness, such emotions, such attachment, to proceed to N'Djole two hours from there. And it was absolutely necessary to arrive before the night! Two hours on the road across the African trails, that's no light business. Night falls quickly on the Equator, at 6:30 in the evening it was already dark.

Unfortunately, Fr. Jean-Marie, yet another former student of the Archbishop, had not come back from a round of visits in the bush country. Be that as it may, we were very warmly welcomed by his brother, President of the regional assembly, who invited us and put us up in the vestibule of the presidential building.

The next day His Grace celebrated Mass in the church of N'Djole where the faithful gathered, summoned by the bell. They had a well-trained altar boy.

As with every other place we visited, the bells had announced the arrival of the Archbishop and Mgr. N'Dong. All that was quite spectacular as the faithful hurried joyfully to the church to be reunited with "Father Marcel."

We came to the border of Ogooue, and crossed at that point where the width gets as high as 800 meters, by a very impressive metal bridge.

At one time, the Archbishop recalled, one could not make it to N'Djole from Franceville except by river. Mgr. N'Dong, who made the journey in a canoe, observed that it took twenty-one days to ascend up to Ogooue with canoers trained to cross the rapids, and avoid the falls, the cascades . . . it took only ten days to come back!

Mgr. Makouaka greets Archbishop Lefebvre.

His Grace showed us what remained of the mission such as he had known it, in the middle of an island, from which the bell emerges. It had to be crossed by canoe. There was no other way, with the current, and even then it was not easy for the inexperienced. The majority of Europeans did not know how to handle the canoes. They had to call specialists recruited, curiously enough, in the same village.

To move on was not possible except by river, or on foot, on land, across the bushland, the equatorial forest, often flooded, especially during the rainy season, when the vegetation would quickly devour the path so painstakingly traced by machete blows.

Today there is an iron road. It's not exactly top quality but it was done well. There are also some nice roads. There are motorboats on the river. Gabon is rich in oil, uranium, manganese, wood, especially Gabon, from which they make plywood.

Former Neighbor of Dr. Schweitzer at Lambarene, Mosquito Capital

We then left N'Djole for Lambarene.

Was the Archbishop at Lambarene during the time of Dr. Schweitzer?

Yes, in fact he had him for a neighbor. He knew and esteemed Dr. Schweitzer.

Celebrated in his time, people are now sometimes more restrained in their praise of Dr. Schweitzer. Above all they say that he obstinately turned his back on scientific progress.

Yes, it is true that he was against the installation of electricity. However they took advantage of a trip he made to France to install it, and when he returned . . . he pretended not to see it!

That said, he might perhaps have meant to keep up the customs of his own generation of settlers. If he did not always have an easy disposition, Dr. Schweitzer was a man of great goodness, great devotedness, who did much good.

He often came to the mission where the Archbishop was a missionary priest for three years. If somebody was sick, he would take care of him for free. His Grace says that he was a good-hearted man, in contrast with some of the deaconesses of his entourage, who often had a somewhat sour attitude towards the Catholic mission.

What a beautiful mission! A beautiful brick building in the "colonial" style, with galleries all around it to assure a natural cooling. The mission as well as the church had existed before the coming of the Archbishop. Everything was constructed by some brothers who made the bricks themselves. The church also is beautiful, but alas, the liturgical revolution has caught up with it! They have destroyed the altar and removed the communion rail and the pulpit; the church is no longer as His Grace used to remember it.

The Archbishop also went to see some nuns, in an area where there used to be some workshops. In the days of "Father Marcel" they used to make canoes from hollowed-out logs of wood and they would then equip them with small motors. The brothers themselves made these vessels, as they used to do the carpentry, the bricks, etc . . . It was a very important mission with priests, nuns and brothers . . . it is still important, but there is, alas, much less of everything except carpentry, and the workshops have closed. Will we perhaps see them open again some day?

We were received very kindly and stayed the night at the mission. The Archbishop was very surprised that everybody was able to sleep peacefully. In the old days the region was infested with mosquitoes, and in spite of the mosquito nets, these pesky little creatures would slide on there at the same time as you! When the Archbishop celebrated Mass, on each side of the altar they had to burn pharm on coals to drive them away. At the table they often made somewhat of a traffic jam: wham! Then you could heap up beside your glass a whole pile of cadavers. Since then the region has better sanitation.

The next day the Archbishop went to visit a parish on the other side of Ogooue where there were some old brothers and nuns he had known from the mission. As always, he received a tremendous welcome and they spoke of memories of former years.

The Return: Arcs of Triumph!

We again took up the road to Libreville, not without making a somewhat triumphal stop at Bifoug, right at the crossroads between N'Djole, Lambarene and Libreville . . . there we found Fr. Jean-Marie, cure of N'Djole.

After the reception of Mgr. Lefebvre by the President of the Republic, there were some television reports about the visit during the evening news, on the two channels. When we were dining with Mgr. Anguile, a former student of the Archbishop jumped right into his car and made a bee-line for the Archbishop's residence . . . he could not believe his eyes to see once more the Archbishop, "Father Marcel," that he really was back! Thus, by television, radio, the newspapers, telephone . . . and the tom-tom, all of Gabon knew that Mgr. Lefebvre was there! The proof is, Fr. Jean-Marie, who was making his rounds in the bush, found out about it and met up with us on the road, where he had gathered about a hundred of his parishioners. The faithful had plaited together some veritable little "arcs of triumph" with palm leaves decorated with flowers. The populace was there, chanting and dancing according to their custom . . . then everybody entered the chapel to pray. His Grace began the recitation of the Our Father and Hail Mary in Fan, the local tribal language. Then he addressed the faithful, still in Fan, and at the end conversed with them.

It was very curious to hear the Archbishop express himself in a language so unfamiliar to us and to hear the people say, "Oh, His Grace, he still speaks our language, he still understands us! Think of it, after forty years, he still hasn't forgotten!" One could make no end of speaking about it . . .

Well, in conclusion then . . .

Well, we must say that at Gabon, as in the rest of the world, the faithful, priests and even bishops, say to His Grace, "Send us priests, like the ones you train at Ecône and at the other seminaries of the Society, priests like you have always formed them, with the spirit of the Catholic Church. We want to keep our Faith! Give us priests!"

When the French were present, when the missions were flourishing, before the conciliar "hurricane" the Archbishop was persuaded that black Africa was on the point of becoming entirely Christianized.

Indeed the hope rises up again, for the traces of the Faith are still profound, the furrows are still open, the seed is not altogether destroyed . . . it would suffice, with the grace of God, the favor of the Most Holy Virgin Mary, such a small seed could suffice to overturn the actual tide.

When he returns next year to Gabon, Mgr. Lefebvre has promised to give an account of his trip himself.