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s2smodern

Life took its normal course in Bujumbura. Belonging to the other part of humanity still "safe and sound", the ground for this ugly virus was growing with the wild hope of being spared. There was, unfortunately, no doubt that the Covid-19 epidemic was coming to the shores of Lake Tanganyika. The question was: when? and what would be the reaction of the public authorities? But not for a second did I imagine that such a small creature would come to take me away from my regency, my pupils, my dear hills of Burundi.

1 April: the first two cases of Covid-19 were detected in Bujumbura. Twenty-four hours earlier, Father Provincial spoke to me about the possibility of an early end of regency and a return, without delay, to France. The total shock. End of the line, everybody off!

It was a serious moment, but also filled with compassion for the sacrifice that was being asked of me. I felt the beginnings of the tearing within me. I was confused: nothing was officially decided yet, but the future was becoming blurred, a storm of emotions. Holy Week passed, with a painful heaviness. Was it possible that everything could end like that? So quickly, so brutally? I wished that "this cup" would pass away from me. . . Then a memory of the novitiate came back: when we studied the vows, we learned that obedience is not only lived in an act that conforms to what is asked, but must go as far as to love what is asked. In those same moments, a companion, confined in Paris, aware of the drama that was unfolding for me, never ceased to encourage me to trust and hope.

In the open air, the empty tomb of Easter morning did the rest ... and I finally obeyed.

In reality, I had never thought of disobeying, but I was not yet in Jesuit obedience. Even though the pain of departure remained, even though the heart was heavy, the eyes moist, there was the promise of something just and good in agreeing to love what was asked of me. On Easter Monday my return became official, I was ready (at least internally!). Obedience was a form of salvation for me. After breathing a sigh upon hearing of my imminent departure, a Burundian sister had only these few words: "Obedience is victory".

Then, everything went very fast: the luggage, the registrations on the repatriation flights, the business to be settled with my replacement appointed in extremis, and, above all, to say "Goodbye! "as much as possible ... The thorn in the flesh of this ordeal was not being able to say goodbye one last time to my pupils. I left Burundi on the eve of the new school year ... 

If all this was trying, and still leaves me with a strange taste, this sudden return cannot darken twenty-one months of joy and service. This experience of obedience finally brings its share of light and is now part of my regency. I remember, too, that Jesuit fraternity which does not care about distances and which has supported me every day. Finally, I can never thank enough for having been sent to Burundi where part of my heart has remained. A last image: that of friendship and celebration to end almost two years of football with the boys of the hills. It was the eve of departure. Beware, this picture may offend those who are sensitive to social distancing! In Kirundi, we say "turi kumwe" when we leave someone, "we are together" ...

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s2smodern