Growing up in Kilbeggan, County Westmeath, my only early memory in connection with South America was hearing that a relative of our neighbours had an aunt, a nun, who had gone from Westmeath to a convent in Argentina many years previously. I was also told that there were a number of other people from Westmeath, Longford and Wexford who had migrated to Argentina. It is only in recent times that I have read about a Kilbeggan man named Duffy who also emigrated to Argentina many years ago. But my story relates to the Andean country of Peru.

A chance meeting in Rome

I first heard mention of Peru in Rome in 1962. I was studying theology at the Carmelite International Theologate within a stone's throw of St. Peter's Square. The Vatican II Council convened by Pope John XXIII had brought all the bishops to Rome. Among them was a Carmelite bishop, Nevin Hayes, a native of Chicago and Bishop of the Prelature of Sicuani of the Department of Cuzco in Peru. He spoke to us as a student body and showed us slides of Sicuani. I was impressed, but did not for a moment consider the possibility of going there as a missionary priest. Bishop Hayes belonged to the Chicago Province of Carmelites, whereas I belonged to the Irish Province whose only foreign mission at that time was Rhodesia, present-day Zimbabwe.

I was ordained in July 1963 and returned to Ireland to my first assignment as a secondary school teacher at Terenure College in Dublin. I subsequently discovered that Bishop Hayes had spoken to the Irish Carmelite Provincial requesting help in his mission work in Sicuani. The Provincial then sent out a letter to all the Carmelite houses in Ireland inviting members to volunteer for work in Sicuani, Peru. I jumped at the chance to work in Peru, together with six other Carmelite priests. For some reason I was more attracted to South America than to Africa. Then one day the Provincial called me aside and told me he would allow me to work in Sicuani. I had assumed that two of us would go, but the Carmelites in Zimbabwe were pleading for more men. The basis on which he allowed me to go was flexible: he said, 'Des, why don't you go for three years and see if you like it?' Little did I realise then that I was to spend thirty years of my life in Peru.

Lima via New York

I left Ireland for Peru in October 1964 travelling via New York, where I visited my uncle Willie and his family in the Bronx. My father's brother from West Cavan had left his native place for Cobh, County Cork in 1924, without telling his parents or siblings. During the Irish War of Independence (1919-1921), he had been a highly regarded officer. He wrote a letter to his family from Cobh before boarding the ship for the USA, telling them in the letter of his decision, asking their forgiveness for not telling them beforehand as he had feared that it would break their hearts. Several times in the letter he assured them that he would only be away for a time and would return. He never did. Meeting him in the Bronx, I noticed that he had never lost his Cavan accent. I remember meeting other Irish people there on that occasion and hearing them express their anxiety about all the Puerto Ricans who were moving into the Bronx, which had been until then an Irish stronghold!

I arrived in Lima on 15 October 1964, the feast day of the Carmelite Saint Teresa of Avila. In Lima, I was received by the American Carmelites who had a parish, and a primary and secondary school in San Antonio, Miraflores, Lima. I immediately commenced an intensive four-month Spanish course in Cieneguilla, twenty kilometres outside Lima. I was in a group of some forty students of Spanish, priests and nuns from various countries, mostly the USA and Canada. We were all in the same boat, grappling with a new language with the frustrations that one experiences early on at not being able to say all that one wants to say. I remember a Peruvian friend saying to me one day early on as I tried to speak to him in my hesitant Spanish, 'Des', he said in Spanish, 'no te preocupes, poco a poco se va lejos' (don't worry, little by little you'll go far).

My destination, Sicuani

Having completed that course, I set out for Sicuani in the Andes, travelling by plane to Cuzco on Saint Patrick's Day 1965. I was now in the 'navel of the world,' as the word 'Cuzco' signifies in Peru's native language Quechua. I downed a few Pisco Sours, Peru's typical drink, in honour of Patrick, and wondered what I was getting myself into as we travelled out the dusty dirt roads towards Sicuani through narrow adobe-lined streets, as darkness fell.

Sicuani, at 3,500 metres above sea level, lies two hours' drive directly south of Cuzco. In those days as a town it had a population of 12,000, but as a parish it had a number of outlying communities called in that area 'parcialidades,' where most of the population was indigenous. These people were referred to as 'campesinos', and were more at home speaking their native language Quechua rather than Spanish. I quickly saw the need for Quechua for myself so within a year I was off to Cochabamba in Bolivia for another four-month intensive course. I found it to be a very different language from Spanish, though not too difficult as regards pronunciation. The structure of the language posed problems however, a language of suffixes that are appended to the root word. With one long word you can say a lot!

I engaged in a marvellous variety of work during my first eight years in Sicuani. I worked in the education of campesino leaders; I was chaplain in the local prison and hospital and eventually became more involved in youth work, even helping to start a Boy Scout group. I was always keen on sport and had regularly played football in Ireland and soccer in Rome. I got involved with local soccer teams in Sicuani and played for various teams over the years in spite of the altitude. The manager of our team used to say to me before mass on a Sunday, 'hurry up Father, we have a match after mass!'

Church of the South Andes

On a pastoral level I consider myself very fortunate to have worked for seventeen years in that section of the Peruvian church referred to as 'la iglesia del Sur Andino', the Church of the South Andes. Between Dioceses and Prelatures, there were seven jurisdictions where the bishops, pastoral agents, priests, nuns and committed lay people all worked together with great enthusiasm. For years we followed an agreed pastoral plan for that whole region with a view to implementing Vatican II and Medellín. It was a very exciting, challenging, and at times difficult period in the Peruvian church. Because these Bishops were outspoken in defence of the poor, and courageous in denouncing injustices and corruption, they experienced much criticism and constant attacks from both conservative elements of the Church and right-wing politicians. For many it was a prophetic part of the Church, for others who did not want to rock the boat it was looked upon as dangerous, left wing and too involved in what they would call 'politics'.

Then something very tragic happened. Within a few short years, four of the most conspicuous and courageous bishops of that region were all killed in violent accidents. They were the bishops of Cuzco, Ayaviri, Puno and Juli. To this day many people refuse to believe that their deaths were accidental. The truth is that from that point on the vibrant prophetic voice of the Church of the South Andes has been greatly silenced. It is replaced by rigid structures and pastoral guidelines imposed upon the region by bishops installed by Rome, most of them from Opus Dei and Sodalitium Christianae Vitae, the most conservative and reactionary elements in the Catholic Church.

I ministered in various parishes in the Prelature of Sicuani over the seventeen years I spent there. I got more at home with the Quechua language, understood the people more and more, particularly their customs and beliefs, loved their music and dances, their capacity to celebrate life in spite of harsh conditions and their constant struggle against adversity. I admired their willingness to share what little they had. I feel that I grew up there. I did not learn much theology during my four years in Rome. I did learn theology in Peru, in the South Andes.

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