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Tribute to Vic – Slideshow in Eulogy

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Extract from NOSSEF Director Fr Hyoe’s Cover Letter

To our Friends and Benefactors,

Pope Francis Visit to Timor-Leste

This year, from September 9th to 11th, Pope Francis visited Timor-Leste. The theme was “Que a vossa fé seja a vossa cultura” (Let your faith be your cultural identity). More than a hundred of our teachers and students went to Dili (Tasi Tolu) to attend the Papal Mass spending two nights in camping. About half of the total Timorese population (700,000) is reported to have participated in that Mass. Many people cried with tears of joy and gratitude.

 Student Scholarships at NOSSEF

 When I see our graduating students, I recall the three-year life they spent in our school. In 2024 we had 104 scholarship recipients, and about 60 of them were need-based scholarships. We chose them based on their own desire, commitment, and the needy financial situation of their family. They enjoyed friendships and learning like all other students. I imagine that if they didn’t receive scholarships they wouldn’t be able to complete their student life at NOSSEF. They came to school on Saturdays to do some cleaning and gardening as part of scholarship students’ activities. In 2024, the 108 12^th graders of NOSSEF passed 100% in the National Exams.

Master Plan for NOSSEF to address not only infrastructure but education ‘that can transform society’

Our Master Plan process is still ongoing. From 2023, we have been planning to renovate all school buildings and include an elementary school, maximizing the use of our current land. It is essential to address the poor condition of basic education in this country. This has been caused by a poorly organized and outdated educational system and insufficient parenting education. This is causing even poorer learning achievement and a neglected school culture in most public schools. As the government’s myopic vision and party politics fail to respond to the need for educating the growing population and the fragile job market, the climate of disappointment has caused disordered expectations for school discipline (factory and military-style education) and little interest in formal education (“Education is meaningless”). Therefore, many people push their children to earn more money faster by working abroad, in Korea, England, Australia, etc.

It is imperative to have a visionary plan grounded in integrity and faith and generating realistic hope and further dreams. Authentic education gradually creates true freedom and maturity to adapt to changing times without losing sight of unchanging values. I don’t oppose producing results with calculable effectiveness, because it is still important to However, it is also essential to yield fruits, to “educate persons who can transform society,” which is compatible with effectiveness or efficiency.

 Focus on forming Staff

Although it seems almost overwhelming for me as a priest to cover all of the following issues, NOSSEF needs to establish a good induction program for new employees, a better training program for all employees, a better salary system, a creative and visionary insight about future curriculum designing, a solid work ethic and an understandable culture of commitment and collaboration. There is a Yiddish proverb: “God gives burdens, also shoulders.” In spite of all these challenges, God is with us (Mat 1:23), and hope does not disappoint (Rom 5:5). We never forget the generous donation and encouraging messages from our friends and benefactors, especially at St Canice’s. We thank you for yourself-giving charity to shoulder our burdens. Continue to include us in your prayers and hopes. May God unite us all in hope. “form useful individuals for society.”

Fr Hyoe Murayama SJ, Director of NOSSEF school (2021~2025)

CLICK HERE to read Fr Hyoe’s full Report.

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in 2013, I visited the Holy Land with an introduction to meet-up with a South African-born, Jewish, Catholic Jesuit priest, David Neuhas SJ.

This is this is my story from that time.

Michael and Fr David Neuhas SJ

And Now, in 2024, I find it very interesting to read what that same Jesuit has to say about the situation between Israelis and Palestinians in the current situation in the Holy Land.

Father David Neuhaus SJ, who is superior of the Jesuit community at the Pontifical Biblical Institute in Jerusalem, urges Christians worldwide to stay connected. “Do not forget us. Pray for us constantly; your prayers give us strength. Advocate for justice and equality, and challenge your governments to address the injustice here,” pleads the priest who grew up during the apartheid era in South Africa, part of a Jewish family of refugees that had fled Nazi Germany. In 1988, he was baptized into the Catholic Church and in 1992 entered the Society of Jesus.

In this interview with La Croix, Father Neuhaus, who has lived most of his life in Israel, and is an Israeli citizen, calls for solidarity, emphasizing the resilience of faith and the shared responsibility of all Christians to bear witness to hope, even in the face of despair.

La Croix: On a land plagued by destruction for more than a year, does celebrating Christmas still hold meaning?

Father David Neuhaus: Preparing for Christmas has become a struggle. This celebration requires a lot of faith, hope, and joy—qualities sorely lacking in the Holy Land, where death is a daily occurrence, destruction is ongoing, hostages remain captive, and displaced people are left destitute. But we must try! Because Christ came into a world much like ours—a world under occupation. Christmas reminds us that God is with us in the darkness and that He came to bring light. The challenge of Christmas is to look at the world through this light and to share it.

Our duty and testimony as Christians are clear. We are here to remind others that God is faithful and that death does not have the final say. We must repeat this to ourselves and to those around us, whether they are Christians or not. In an environment of death, we bear witness to life! Of course, this is a tremendous challenge for Christians. To remain steadfast in faith, we must meditate on the Scriptures and come together as a Church. Isolation and the paralysis of fear are devastating. Building connections among Christians—and with others—is vital.

What do Christians in the Holy Land expect from Western Christians?

First and foremost, do not forget us. Pray for us constantly; your prayers give us strength. Next, speak on our behalf. Tell others that an injustice exists at the heart of the Middle East, imposed by the West of the past. The Palestinian problem, triggered by the creation of Israel in 1948, has its roots in the terrible tragedy of the Holocaust, which unfolded on European soil. Advocate for peace, yes, but not without justice and equality. Demand this equality for all residents of the Middle East.

Denounce war and violence in all forms, stay informed, and share this knowledge with those around you. Challenge your governments, which hesitate to take clear positions against injustice. We also hope you will visit us. This requires great courage, but we need to strengthen our bonds of communion, as our holy sites are empty! It is important for you to witness what is happening here. Lastly, although the war is not over, our needs for reconstruction are immense. Your humanitarian and financial support is already crucial to us, but the demand continues.

You navigate between the Palestinian Arab people and Israeli Jews. How have you experienced this year of war, and what are your thoughts on the future?

I do not have one foot in each community; I am deeply rooted in both Israeli and Palestinian societies. This stems from my love for both peoples and my knowledge of Hebrew and Arabic. My flesh is theirs: I carry their wounds as a deep pain within me. It is a privilege, a gift from God that allows me to listen, to speak, and sometimes to mediate. Thank God, I am not alone! While there is a strong, widespread refusal on both sides for coexistence, I also find, among Israelis and Palestinians, partners who dream and work together to create small oases of hope.

. . . highlighting the ‘I’ in Michael

My sense of adventure is taking hold again. Returning from Europe earlier this year I chose to return home via Mongolia, because I could. Finding a business class seat on Turkish Airlines from Brussels to Ulaanbaatar for a reasonable number of miles made the decision easy for me.

An invitation to spend Christmas in Ho Chi Minh City with a small family we’d met on the Antarctica cruise last year presents another opportunity to travel via a new destination, this time to a Southeast Asian city. For no particular reason, Phnom Penh in Cambodia has always held appeal. . . . Read on 

Click on this link to see Photo Story

I’m in Timor-Leste to visit the Railaco Jesuit Mission, which has been supported by St Canice’s Parish in Sydney for the past twenty years. This little rural parish is located in the mountains and – depending on your choice of vehicle and driver – about an hour away from Dili. On this trip, I’ve also been invited to participate in the special celebrations in Soibada – about three hours from Dili – to mark the establishment of the first Jesuit Mission in the country 125 years ago.

CLICK HERE TO READ

CLICK HERE to read a very interesting article on historical aspects of Timor

While small as a nation, East Timor is in fact the most Christian country in Asia, with around 90% of the population professing Catholicism, which could explain the September trip of Pope Francis.

But a look at the recent history of the region shows that the connection between the Church and the East-Timorese goes much deeper than simple demographics.

Click on KIMBERLEYS link below to read my story on a day of heli fishing in the northwest of Australia.

I open my bathroom window here in Rome, and see this old orange, still hanging on. And I think of me, with skin once resplendent and firm, now discoloured and marked with creases of time.

It draws my eye because on this first trip abroad since the pandemic, I’m realising that I’m not invincible. Time is catching up. As Andrew Stuart reminds me in a message, “You are 80. We are fading”.

Health issues don’t worry me when I understand the cause and the outlook. However, the clobbering of my old body in excessive heat is something else. It goes beyond drinking sufficient water, and leaning on a walking stick that I bought in the souk in Algeria. On occasion, when I’m sitting enjoying a meal, out of the blue I feel a vertiginous wave.

What the hell is going on? This is new. Episodes of vertigo might be as simple as adjusting to land-legs or vestibular from recent ear problem. I’m not happy not knowing.

And, it’s not so much the fading but a confidence-hit. Reality is dawning. I’m not as young as the people I’ve been working alongside feeling no difference in ages.

Hearing, memory, and balance of varying degrees is impacting old friends around me. This comes as quite a shock for me on this trip in particular, being so close to many I hold dear on the cruise.

I see so many young people of all nationalities doing things, simply laughing having fun, probably getting up to things that I would never of done at their age. Latest fashions, jumping in the water, stealing a kiss, taking risks. . . And, I realise, I have left those days behind. I am now firmly in the grandfather age.

‘Stay out of the midday sun’ is the only thought for my brief ‘Roman Holiday’.

So, when I receive the ‘“best pasta in Rome” message from my nephew Mark Schramm with the link to ‘Felice a Testaccio, Cucina Romana’, I have one thing to pursue.

On the restaurant’s Martedi Menu, I see my favourite pasta, Spaghetti con le vongole. I’m set. It pales compared to the roast baby lamb – the sweetest tender meat including the whole kidney sitting there on top of the pink flesh like a little fetus. (After all this, I realise I’ve dined here before.)

‘A marvellous roof terrace at the Hotel Eden’ is front of mind when I make my hotel booking. My late boss Juergen would tell me this when he would stay here when he was in Rome. Up on the terrace for breakfast, I understand why he liked it so much. I reminisce on things I’ve enjoyed with his family, starting with his wedding to Birgit in St Moritz, and being Godfather to Joya his daughter in a little chapel deep into the woods outside Lugano.

The marvellous roof Terrace has an excellent breakfast buffet. The cappuccino, fresh fruits and pastries are to be expected. The more than 180° view is a sightseeing tour without getting up out of my seat. I can see St Peter’s Dome at the Vatican and the towers of Trinità dei Monte at the top of the Spanish Steps all the way around to the Victor Emmanuel II National Monument.

The island of Gozo is half an hour away from Malta on a fast ferry. It’s relatively remote and has a simplicity about it that isn’t drawing the invading hordes of tourists who could turn Malta into another Ibiza.

With Gozitan Anne-Marie relating the authentic past, we relax in air-conditioned comfort taking-in the natural beauty – blue sea, cliffs, beaches and fertile valleys. The homes and buildings are clumped on higher ground, all made of the locally-quarried golden limestone blocks.

Our effervescent driver Charlie, (who went to Melbourne years ago and married Aussie Christine, and is now returned home to Gozo), ensures we see every house with an Australian connection. So many residents proudly returned to Gozo in retirement after migrating to Australia in the 50s in search of work and to raise families. The kangaroo is the message.

We stop at a local Pilgrimage site. the Basilica of the National Shrine of Ta ‘Pinu. Back in the 19th century, two different people heard a woman’s voice coming from what was a little chapel in the middle of nowhere asking them to pray. In the 1920s, Pope Pius XI issued a Decree confirming the authenticity of the message as from the Blessed Virgin. Earlier this year, Pope Francis visited the Shrine and added roses to the crown of the Virgin of Ta ‘Pinu

Anne-Marie relates an ‘alternative’ history that could be said to detract from the pious image and the good that the Knights of Malta still do to help people in the world today. My ears stand up when I hear of one of the Popes giving permission for the Knights to board Muslim ships, capture the occupants and sell them into the slave trade in North Africa. Or make them oarsmen in their own fighting ships . . all in the name of religion.

We enjoy lunch in a simple Bar Restaurant right on the water. Kids run and play throwing black seaweed in the air. Rabbit spaghetti does me fine. But a very fine sand borne in on the breeze from Libya only 200 km away to the south covers the table and our phones with a fine coating of grit.

Being masters of our own arrangements, we abandon more sightseeing and return  to Malta on the fast ferry to check into our hotel in the ancient capital city, Mdina. This hilltop area of limestone buildings, Palaces and Churches remains the centre of the Maltese nobility and religious, authorities where property continues to largely be passed down from families, and from generation to generation.

We walk the next morning to the adjacent, well-conserved old part of Rabat to visit the Cave where Saint Paul preached after being shipwrecked on his way to Rome in the first century. As I reimagine what must have transpired here two millennia ago, singing from Sunday Mass drifts down from the Cathedral upstairs.

On another level, further down below the cave is where the Maltese people used pickaxes to dig into the limestone and make rooms as air raid shelters for their families during the relentless German bombardments during World War II. Stretching further underground, are miles of catacombs from Roman times.

All of us have eyes for the local food. and who better than a local, Anna-Marie, our vivacious local guide, to know the best place – ta’ Victor Restaurant, under umbrellas, in a breeze, by the harour at the traditional fishing village of Marsaxlokk.

A huge ‘Maltese Platter’ – piled high with green olives, juicy capers, sundried tomatoes, tantalising pungent fresh herbs and a little fried onion and crispy garlic, on a bed of warm local bread (ftira) soaked in tomato paste. It’s is enough to make our eyes pop.

It’s accompanied by two other plates of typical Maltese food – fried Maltese sausage, crisp on the outside delicious inside. Dare I mention the bowl of baked Maltese new potatoes with wild fennel seeds, garlic and onion, AND, the local goats cheese (gbejniet), and beans paste (bigilla) to enjoy with the warm ftira (Maltese bread roll)?

Dennis is sitting back still licking his lips after our luncheon repast when two large plates of fried Lampuka, (a local seasonal fish like a young mahi-mahi) are brought to the table. Again, fragrant local herbs garnish and onion, garlic, capsicum and cherry tomatoes add to the piled plate of fish.

After all that, I follow the “ I love the cool of ice cream on the back of my throat, don’t you?” Pam Turner’s lead. I order the Maltese grandmother’s creamy ice cream with candied fruit and a slice of warmed fig tart and diced melon too.

The Temple of Concordia and Juno are walking distance from where we sip our Aperol spritz in the shade of spreading Fig and Pine trees. Such a relaxing setting in the cool, until the arugula arrives as a garnish on my appetizer . . . and the bees come buzzing.

The hotel menu suggests that ‘the Terrace is therefore a tribute to the Gods who want to give La Terrazza Degli Dei, (the place where we are dining), a show that is renewed every day and where it is possible to sublimate the food and wine flavors of the territory’.

I search out places like this in preference to confronting endless hours in the heat. Simple meals in pleasant locations with good company are what lasting memories are made of.

It’s difficult to imagine that one of the temples we’re viewing in the distance was built in the middle of the fifth century BC, and in period and in style belongs to the Archaic Doric period. It’s known as Temple of Hera Lacinia, or Juno Lacinia.

We’re about half an hour away from the ship near Agrigento in Sicily. It’s the end of summer, and the pink of oleanders, olive trees, pines and cactus add touches of colour to the parched ground. That smell of oleander in the summer sun is something that I associate always with Italy.

It’s good to be back! If only for a day.

Now, to face the chore of packing, and leaving the ship in Malta tomorrow morning, after three weeks on the cruise from Dublin.

Sousse – Tunisia

What a difference a red cap makes . . . to my photos.

Of even greater importance are bottles of water . . . and a walking stick . . . to my survival in blazing heat here in the souk in Sousse, Tunisia.

Do I care when an Arabian merchant (seeing me eyeing off his range of walking sticks), sidles over to me from his nearby shop and says, “we won’t bargain. I give you best price”.

My US$20 well spent for a smart-looking black walking-stick on which the paint was rubbing-off before I got back to the ship!

I take my hat off (red cap in this case) to personal trainer Joe, back in Sydney for enduring strength in my moving parts, but my ‘many’ physicians still have a little more ‘figuring-out’ to manage the effects of extreme heat on my 80 year-old body. Good fellow traveller Michael Inesta from Miami assures me that it’s mental, and merely fight or flight anxiety, fear of losing balance.

It’s pretty obvious with this post that’s ‘all to do about nothing’ that I didn’t join one of the organized tours from the ship. The most interesting museums (without air-conditioning in this heat) with the remainder of the tour walking for 4 hours, is not even an option for me.

“ i’ll never pass this way again“, Gerhard Haas, bravely embarks on an 8-hour expedition to visit the old Carthaginian town and Roman colony, Thysdrus, with its surviving amphitheater and now a World Heritage site.

I opt to go ashore independently mid morning with friends for a look-see and test my olifactory senses in the open souk. No baking smells or fish markets to report on, but a rare breeze in the souk does carry an enticing scent of spices.

This is the third port where it has not been possible to escape the organised tour and do my own thing. The surveillance might be all about protection. But, I wonder, when the local authorities stand watch and seem to control even the zodiac frequencies, and speed-up beside us in the water as we zip to and from the ship.

Magnificent edifices, French imports, neo classical and white, set-off with stately palms, surround the harbour. Aren’t we supposed to be landing in Africa on the edge of the Sahara Desert?

Yes, we are indeed. And it’s exciting. But we are also witness to colonialism with its vestiges of elegance, and like in so many parts of the world, to the erasing of local cultures in many respects. Any evidence of the city’s Berber and Muslim origins are tucked away behind all this grandeur. So, let’s at least get a taste of that. Come with me to the Casbah, in Algiers.

I perspire and nearly expire walking up and down potholed alleys in century plus heat and humidity in the Berber Casbah of Algiers. Uniformed and plain clothed police in number ‘walk shotgun’ and to Fr trail us to ensure sure our safe passage and security. I’m not too happy with the rather portly man in the green shirt whom I observe videoing every single one of us on his iPhone.

The cobbled steps up and down the alleys of the Casbah, between very ancient and dilapidated buildings of Berber and Moorish origins are steep, pot-holed and uneven. The step rises are of varying heights, angled, and often slippery. They are acutely hazardous.

With my eyes cast downward for fear of a fall, my opportunity to take-in the many architectural features, doorways and take snaps is limited.

Adding to the distraction and disorientation, not to mention the heat, are the seemingly endless stories of the local guide about the pre-French era and the ‘amazing’ Berber architecture that continue without stop through the voice pod in my ear. To heck with what anybody may think. I’m going back to my walking stick for the next time I’m in these situations of unpredictable surfaces. I’m very pro-life; my own!

There’s an Algerian welcome for us in the central courtyard of a combined family dwelling in the casbah. The family members serve sweet tea or scented coffee with local sweet treats and dates. What a relief to be out of the blazing sun and the hundred-degree heat. Out of the alleys, there’s scarce shade and nowhere to catch my breath.

The local people treat we presumed ‘Americans’ with curiosity. None really try to engage with us, but many are very happy to be addressed in that non-verbal language of a friendly smile and nod of the head.

Sadly, the police and security services appear to have unfettered power. This would extend to any one with authority, similar to many parts of the world.

Such inequality renders most of the population simply digits – without hope. The ‘rule of power’ rather than the ‘rule of law’. Human rights . . . ?

I lay the dilemma at the feet of the Good Lord. How can He have allowed this to be, seemingly forever?

PS
My ever-practical get-the-job-done friend from Florida sees only one solution.
“Relocate the population of Algiers and bring the French back to restore the infrastructure”. He dismisses my concerns about the displacement of people in the meantime as Jesuitical and without any progress.

Only yesterday while in Kazakhstan, Pope Francis insisted, “A greater distribution of power” is a “meritorious and demanding process. Every country in the world needs to implement measures to combat corruption”.

Edmundo Perez-de Cobos Paul OD

Algeria – Oran, shrouded in mystery!

Silver Cloud is the first cruise ship permitted to visit Algeria after a four-year shutdown.

At lunchtime today, we sail into Oran, Algeria’s second city to a water cannon welcome. An imposing Santa Cruz Fort 400 m up on a mountain top guarding the harbour, evokes a sense of mystery. The excitement on board is palpable. Then we are drawn to our balconies to listen to the band playing rhythmic Arab music.

We are in Algeria! We are in Africa.

And we go back to our lunch by the pool until it’s time to disembark and discover for ourselves. We’ll, sort of!

As we venture ashore, smiling young Algerians stand at the foot of the gangway bedecking each of us with a colourful Algerian sash.

The band of men in blue turbans play Arabian music with frantic drumming, clapping, singing and dancing.

Officials with epaulettes and white gloves stand around with a veiled sense of pride, and surveillance.

Our transport with hazard lights flashing is escorted by motor-cycle police, civilian brigade, special forces and plain clothes – with blue flashing lights and sirens to ensure ease of passage for our coaches to proceed without stops through heavy traffic.

Pedestrians and vehicles are halted in every direction! It’s an extraordinary military-style operation, just for us! We proceed up the incredibly steep cliff road to Santa Cruz fort and church … steep, hot and crowded. My ankles knees and glutes carry me well, but I nearly expire in the heat with so little shade and nowhere to sit.

Just below the fort we visit a Catholic sanctuary with a statue of Our Lady overlooking the harbour with our ship docked way below.

Exclusive access to the Alhambra for the couple of hundred guests of Silver Cloud M
makes for such a magical experience this evening. The history of Christian kings and queens of Spain coexisting with the Muslim Sultans in Granada is reflected with their imprint on the Architecture of the splendid rooms in the Palace.

Farewell to Seville
Silent as an air ballon in the early morning, we glide down the great-river from Seville to the ocean, through the massive locks and In the perfect breeze. The only sound is the waking bird life as we pass the irrigated farmlands and whitewashed haciendas.

Nothing as pleasant as a chilled Rosé with the seafood spread on the pool deck.

Michael Musgrave