Saving One Another

A story about Rev. Mwibutsa (Fulgence) and Flaming Chalice International

This is a story about saying something when things aren’t right. I don’t know about your family, but my family often seems to be involved in that sort of thing. Yours might, too. Some of you might have experienced going with a parent to a march or to hold signs, or even been part of writing a letter or an email. Or saying something about something happening in front of you.

I want to tell you the true story of two children who did just that. I don’t know their real names, but their nicknames were Bukuru and Toyi. They were seven and nine years old, and they lived in Burundi, a country in Africa where there is too much poverty. They lived in a small hut of a few rooms with a grass roof, in a land that was always warm and green. They spent their days mostly running around outside, playing and taking care of the family’s herd of cows.

One morning a little over five years ago, they were out in the fields in the middle of the day and they saw a group of men arrive in cars. They had guns, and they also had a man with them who looked like maybe he wasn’t choosing to be there. Talking quickly, they ushered that man into a hut and closed the door.

That man was indeed their prisoner. In fact, he was a Unitarian Minister by the name of Rev Mwibutsa (Fulgence) Ndagijimana. We will call him Mwibutsa. Mwibutsa was the Minister of the Unitarian church nearby.

The Unitarian church had been doing exactly what so many Unitarian Universalist churches in North America do. They had seen things going on in their country, and they were saying something. They were going to demonstrations, just like so many congregations here do.

Now, in Burundi, the government responds more violently to demonstrations than they do here, and it became very dangerous. People were being seriously hurt. So the Unitarian church did something very brave. They bought some cell phones, and some vests that said “human rights observer” and they began recording what was happening. It was probably this that caused those men to take Mwibutsa as a prisoner.

The kids Bukuru and Toyi didn’t know any of that, of course. But they did know something wasn’t right. So, at lunch time, they went to the local police station and they explained what they’d seen. You can imagine, at seven and nine years old, how nervous they must have felt walking into the police station by themselves. It’s too complicated to get into in this short story, but going to the police for those boys in that part of the world was not straightforward. They didn’t know how it would turn out. It was a very brave thing for them to do.

The police were nice, and said they’d go see what was happening, so they boys went back to the field with their cows. But, at the end of the day before going home, they checked back at the hut to make sure things were okay. The police had not kept their word. They hadn’t gone to check on things. So the boys returned to the police station, and they said something again, and were able to convince a police officer to come.

The police arrived just as the men were taking Mwibutsa outside, saying they were going to kill him, and they stopped that from happening. They took everyone to the station, and sorted things out. Mwibutsa believes that if it weren’t for those boys saying something, he probably wouldn’t have survived.

It wasn’t easy for Mwibutsa after that day. Soon after, he was arrested and sent to prison. Again, people helped him. They wrote letters and made phone calls. People of all ages in other countries—kids too—wrote letters to Mwibutsa’s government to say that what was happening was not fair. Mwibutsa knew about this. He was allowed visitors, and those visitors brought copies of the petition, with hundred and hundreds of names.

At night, when the officials were done questioning him, Mwibutsa would sit in his cell for 12 hours, in the dark. He often couldn’t sleep. He would sit and think about all of the people working to get him free. Of course, he didn't know most of us, so he got to wondering why we were helping. What connected us to him? He came to the conclusion that it was our UU values that we share--that he'd stood up for what we all believe in, together, and so we were standing up for him.

This is where the chalice lighting comes in...

The symbol in Mwibutsa’s mind every night, of those shared values and that connection, was the flaming chalice: the symbol of Unitarianism and Unitarian Universalism around the world.

I think about that story, often, when I light a chalice. I think about my friend, Mwibutsa, lying in the dark and picturing the flame burning, using it to keep hopeful and to stay strong.

When Mwibutsa was released and made it to safety, the Flaming Chalice took on a new meaning. Now, it no longer meant that he wasn't forgotten--it meant that it was his turn not to forget. There were others who had worked alongside him, putting everything on the line for the values he, they, we, believe in--and they hadn't made it to safety yet. He created a charity so that he could help them, and he named it Flaming Chalice International. Over years, that organization has brought so many people to safety, and helped with so many development projects.

I think about that, too, often, when I light a chalice. About all those connections, that sustain us, and that we use to sustain others.

And I think about Bukuru and Toyi. Seven and nine years old. Who saw something they knew wasn’t right, and who spoke up.

Liz James, Mirth and Dignity President

This story has been updated to reflect that Rev. Fulgence Ndagijimana now goes by Rev. Mwibutsa (Fulgence) Ndagijimana.