PRIESTHOOD AMONG THE MAKUXI

A journey of friendship

By Fr. Ron MacDonnell, S.F.M.
March 2002

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The morning air was still cool at six o'clock as I walked along the grassy plain by the small lake to José's place. When I got there, some men were sitting around an outdoor table having breakfast. José's wife, Alicia, served fried fish with manioc flour and fresh milk. José as the community's 'cowboy' and he took care of their 25 head of cattle.

I had asked the men of the village if I could accompany them to the manioc field to see how they worked. After our breakfast, amidst much bantering and laughter, we headed off. On the way, we stopped at another house where I witnessed a custom practiced by the Makuxi. Two men underwent several rapid knife cuts on the calves of their legs, just lightly enough to draw blood. Then a lotion made of lemon juice and hot peppers was applied, staunching the flow of blood and stinging the cuts. The two men hopped about. No wonder!

"We getting rid of our bad blood," they told me. "Now we'll get new blood. It makes us stronger and lighter; we'll be able to work more." When asked if I wanted "new blood," I politely declined. "Next time," I said.

At the manioc field, I worked along with the men, cutting weeds around the manioc plants with a machete. One of the older men, Roberto, worked beside me. "This is the first time a priest has ever come to work with us!" he beamed. He proceeded to tell me a tribal story about the jaguar who lived in the nearby lake.

At mid-morning, we took a break. Carlos made a small fire and picked some corn from the field to roast as a treat. Another man, Pedro, found a small scorpion. Its poison is medicinal and Miguel, who had a sore foot, underwent several scorpion bites to make it better. I watched in amazement as the men told me of other natural medicines.

By noontime, I could no longer stand the hot tropical sun and headed back to the village. There I sank into a hammock, exhausted but enthralled by the world of the manioc patch.

Certainly, it was not a typical day in my work as a priest during the two years I spent among the Makuxi indigenous peoples of Brazil. Usually I did pastoral visits in the villages, celebrated the sacraments and gave short catechetical courses. Another part of my work was linguistic, studying the Makuxi language and working on a Makuxi-Portuguese dictionary with the village catechists. The Makuxi want to preserve their language and their traditions, and the diocese of Roraima has made this cultural task a priority.

The Church also has taken a stand in solidarity with the Makuxi in support of their land claims. But all of these larger issues can only be possible if we, as pastoral agents, whether priests or lay people, opt to walk with the people in their daily lives. We gather around the Eucharistic table at mass; we also gather around many tables each day, to share our daily bread before heading off to work. Jesus calls us to be friends, to walk with each other in all aspects of our lives.

As a priest, I feel it is our fundamental call to be friends with people. Jesus says to us: "I do not call you servants, but friends."

I eagerly await my return to the Makuxi, to journey again with my new friends. Maybe the next time I go to the manioc field, I will undergo the ritual of seeking new blood.

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