It was Sunday, February 2nd, 1997, just after midday. The congregation of Clontarf Methodist Church was listening to a sermon in preparation for the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper, totally unaware of the imminent events which would lead to their intimate involvement in ethnic conflicts thousands of miles from these shores.
The door opened quietly and two well-dressed African men, one wearing a clerical collar, came in and sat down in a pew. Several pairs of eyes glanced briefly, questioningly, in their direction.
As I announced the next hymn my mind was rationalising the situation. I knew that two Africans, whom I had not yet met, from our Theological College in Belfast were due to speak at an Overseas Missions service in another Methodist Church in Dublin that morning. They must have lost their way and had arrived in Clontarf by mistake, I thought.
I was wrong. This was our first contact with refugees from Africa.
At the close of the service I went to greet the two visitors, only to discover that they had hardly any English. Switching to French, which I had taught for 23 years before entering the full-time ministry, I heard their story.
They had arrived in Ireland about two months previously, the older man from Zaire, the younger from Angola, and were housed together on Clonliffe Road by the Government while their applications for asylum were being considered.
They had set out that morning to walk through Fairview in search of a church, and our Methodist Church at the corner of St Lawrence Road was the first one they had found open. So they came in.
I was intrigued, for my father had been a missionary in what was then the Belgian Congo in the early years of this century. I had been aware of the tragedy of the Simba rebellion of 1960-64, but knew little of the conflict with the Mobutu regime. It was largely unreported in the western press, as remains the case with the ongoing programme of ethnic cleansing in so much of central Africa today.
It continues throughout the whole region at a level similar to Kosovo, but much more prolonged.
One week later, when the two visitors came to share a meal with us, both were quite ill, partly from heavy colds contracted as a result of the rapid transition from the heat of the tropics to an Irish winter with only light clothing to protect them. There was also the trauma of their escape from death threats in their homeland, and the enforced change of diet.
At that time in my Sutton congregation I had a Kenyan family in which the husband was a doctor. He diagnosed the exact problem by conversing with the Zairean in Swahili, for although our understanding in French was good, it was his fourth language.
Over the last two years the numbers of refugees from Africa associated with North Dublin Methodism has grown to 25 to 30 in regular attendance at Sunday evening worship. They come mainly from Angola, the Democratic Republic of the Congo (formerly Zaire), Congo Brazzaville and Nigeria, but we also have contact with others from Sierra Leone, Togo and southern Sudan.
The members of our church have welcomed them into their homes for meals or have organised meals on our premises, while members of other local churches of different denominations have also shared in the hospitality.
As the refugees have begun to learn English, the level of understanding and communication has increased and they have been accepted as members of the church family.
Our services have been greatly enriched by their singing, the African rhythm greatly enlivening our worship. On several occasions the gentleman with the clerical collar, who is a pastor with the Kimbanguist Church in Congo (associated with the Baptist Church) has preached in French and been interpreted into English. The new insights into Scripture have been refreshing and challenging.
They also take part freely in prayer, where there is no restriction on language and all talk to God in their mother tongue, whether English, French, Portuguese, Swahili, Lingala or Ki-congo. It is almost like the Day of Pentecost all over again!
AS they have learned to trust us, so they have gradually been persuaded to share some of their trauma with us. Some have seen family members shot or hacked to pieces before their eyes; women have been viciously raped; children have had to be left behind with members of the extended family as parents have fled from danger.
For many, the pain of separation from loved ones has been increased by lack of news, for in many places the whole infrastructure has broken down, documents have been destroyed and the lines of communication are down. Like some families of the "disappeared" in this country, they do not know whether family members are alive or dead.
Contrary to popular belief, the vast majority of African refugees here did not choose to come to Ireland. Some thought they had been brought to France, Belgium, or even Canada, and were surprised and confused when they landed in Dublin.
The only thing they had heard about Ireland was of the conflict in the North. Of the Republic they knew nothing and they had no desire to leave one war for another.
In stark contrast with the response to the refugees from Kosovo, their reception in "Ireland of the Welcomes" has been most unfriendly, with slogans urging "Niggers Out" and "Blacks Go Home" painted in the areas where they have been housed, as well as verbal and physical attacks in the streets.
Dependence on welfare rather than being allowed to work is not only foreign to them but removes their dignity. We have tried to help them to overcome their problems of race, colour, language, culture, food and fear, and cannot understand why they are not allowed the same basic human rights as others who have come here to seek freedom and peace, when so many Irish people have been welcomed throughout the world for similar reasons.
How can we morally justify these hostile attitudes in a so-called Christian land? They have much to offer us in developing a true multi-cultural society in Ireland today.
The Rev Noel Fallows is a Methodist Church minister on the Clontarf, Sutton and Skerries Circuit in Dublin.
