I am writing something I remember about the late missionary to Africa. Before Father Chrysostom set out for the brothers of the blessed black country in 1958, he went to Patmos to seek the opinion of the Holy Elder Amphilochius Macri. He laid out his plan and his programme with unstinting enthusiasm. He wanted to work in Africa for ten years and then return to Greece to die. Such was the joy of Elder Amphilochios, who had spent his life for the Home Mission, that he not only approved of Father Chrysostom’s departure, but with a heart full of the pulse of youth, he said to Father Chrysostom, “How I would like to go to Africa! But my age and my illness prevent me, I would be a burden and would not be able to fulfil my duties. What a shame I have come… I envy you, Father Chrysostom. And the African missionary, with the blessings of the Angel of Patmos, the great Apostle of love, set out on a labor of love for the black brothers.
After eight years of Father Chrysostom’s laborious work in Uganda and Kenya in East Africa, the Office of the Foreign Mission of the Church of Greece wanted to assist in his work and then after an appeal from the official missionary center of the Greek Church, I, together with Hieromonk Amphilochion Tsoukon, George Patron theologian and my sister Miss Ekaterina Nikitaras, arrived in Nairobi, Kenya, in the summer of 1968, with the aim during the months of our summer holidays to work as much as possible for the Orthodox centre of East Africa. Oh, what the joy of the late Father Chrysostom was when he received us into the Church of the Holy Anargyroi cannot be described. He chanted it himself: “Glory to thee, O Lord, to him who has shown the light, glory in the highest…” His manifestations will remain indelibly imprinted on our minds.
And the tireless black missionary was right, for he saw his weak flesh protesting the heavy burden he had undertaken, and now the hopes for the future of his work began to take shape. We found ourselves in Africa in the dead of winter. For three months we had not seen the blue sky of Greece, nor the stars by night, nor the sun by day, and our breasts were shaped by the black gloom of the country. By the way, how did he live all these years alone? Did any man appreciate this offering for the love of our Christ? Only one who has lived in Africa can possibly comprehend the magnitude of the sacrifice of a weak flesh like Father Chrysostom’s. The neurosis of his stomach tormented him, his salivation became troublesome many times and yet he did not succumb. We made our plans in the evening and the next day we made our excursions. He did not want to miss any excursion.
Mrs. Kacea, Miss Katsigeraki and Miss Nikitara, apart from the responsibility of the cooking of our Centre, had taken over the civilizing sector of the Orthodox. They taught them practical cooking and cooking without missing the Sunday school lessons. The priests were engaged in the celebration of the sacraments, the divine services, baptisms, the foundations of churches and schools, sermons and even the distribution of the clothing sent from Athens and the sacred amphorae distributed to the poor priests of our indigenous brothers and sisters. We once set out for the western Kenya of Akuro, Adonai, Kisumu, in the Centre’s land rover. With us we had old Father Obadiah, one of the pioneer indigenous Orthodox who found the true faith of the Apostles and the Great Fathers of the Church… In the tropical climate, rain is not uncommon. We’ve come about 300 kilometers and it starts pouring rain. Our vehicle was impossible to move. The deceased kept his composure and with a youthful pulse he sang Veritas’ lyrics “neither the rain nor the hail shadows us…” and when soon our wheels got stuck in the mud and we came to a complete standstill while passing a stream, the old man seemed stronger than the young. We picked up the car in our hands, got it unstuck and continued on our way. And we thought, “Where did the old man find the strength?
With the support of Father Matthew, we visited the Orthodox churches, we founded schools and churches. We distributed aid to our needy priests and by our presence we strengthened the spirit of the Orthodox natives. It is true that the harvest is long and the workers are few. In the tours even in Tanzania, in Arusha, Moses, Tomka, I admired the endurance of the old Father Chrysostom, and that because his joy was the missionary work for the glory of our Christ. Above all, it was the sacrifice for our Lord.
Now that he sleeps the sleep of the righteous souls and rests in the land he so loved, we all must consider our responsibilities to the Lord. Shall we forever turn a deaf ear to the call of the African missionary and to the command of our leader, “Go ye, make disciples of all nations…”? He did not forsake his life and forsook all things for the love of the Saviour, so we should imitate him. From his grave he calls to us: “Beimitatorsof me, asI am ofChrist“and for the good of our Orthodox Church we should honour the brave athlete. He showed such self-denial as no other priest of Greece. Our black brothers called him “muse”, i.e. old man, and loving him as he loved them, surely now he occupies a glorious position among God’s chosen ones and should be declared a saint on behalf of our Church. He deserves it. It is our duty and we must do so.
Archimandrite Paylos Nikitarlet
