The challenging circumstances she faced during her childhood and youth led her to meet people and visit places that later influenced her decision to become a missionary. Sr. Francine Bodada Anyangoya, a Congolese Comboni Sister, shares her vocational journey.
I was born in Boma Mangbetu, a village in the northwest of the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) within the Catholic Diocese of Wamba. My father was a polygamist and had two sons and two daughters with my mother, of whom I was the youngest. I barely knew my parents because they both died when I was three. I lived with a cousin until I was ten. Then I moved in with my brother André.
I attended school from an early age, but at my brother’s home, we had financial difficulties paying for my studies, so one day I found the courage to introduce myself to an Italian priest of the Consolata Missionaries, who had a community in Bayenga. I explained my situation to him, and they helped me pay for my education. When I finished my first year of middle school, the Sisters of Evangelisation, a local congregation of religious women in my village, invited me to join them.
On several occasions over four years, I was asked if I wanted to become a nun, but I didn’t have a calling and didn’t even know what it meant. While I was in secondary school, I assisted with household chores, cooking, and other tasks. It was a very interesting experience. At the time, I was part of the parish group Bilenge ya Mwinda, which in Lingala means “Youth of Light.” It’s a very widespread movement in my country that follows the methodology of African initiation with a Christian focus and greatly helps young people come to know and follow Jesus.
One day, Bilenge ya Mwinda organised a retreat in Mungbere, another town in the diocese of Wamba, where we arrived after walking for four days. It was very tiring, but there was no other choice, because the road was so bad that cars couldn’t pass. The four-day retreat ended on a Saturday. Then it was time to return to Bayenga.
We asked the group leader for permission to attend the first parish Mass on Sunday and return afterwards. Only three young people remained for the Eucharist. After the celebration, I wasn’t feeling well. I had a high fever and didn’t feel able to make the return journey. My companions didn’t know what to do. Luckily, the Comboni Missionaries have a large hospital in Mungbere, near the parish. They took me there in a semi-conscious state.
My health deteriorated, and when I woke up groggy at 4:00 PM, I felt I was dying. Another Comboni priest who was recovering in the hospital kept me company during that time. Some of my companions from Bilenge and Mwinda also assisted me. Since I wasn’t recovering and was very weak, they took me to a community of nuns in Mungbere near the hospital. I didn’t know who those nuns were, and at the time, I wasn’t much interested. I remember there were six of them.
They treated me very well, and after four days, when I felt a little stronger, I returned to Bayenga. We returned by motorcycle, a long and tiring journey that lasted about six hours. I arrived in Bayenga in the afternoon, more dead than alive. The Sisters of Evangelisation then took care of me.
Over time, they gave me more and more responsibilities. When they went on retreat, I took care of their house. They were very happy with me and wanted me to stay with them, but my mind kept thinking about those nuns who had welcomed me in Mungbere. My heart told me there was something special there.
One day, I went to see the parish priest and asked him about those nuns. He told me they were Comboni missionaries. The name sounded strange to me; it was the first time I’d heard it. I remember that during those days when I was convalescing in their house, I never asked for anything, but they treated me very well. I asked the parish priest to help me get to know them, and he replied that the best thing was to meet them in Isiro, where they had another community, because the road and trail conditions from Bayenga to Mungbere were very difficult, as I well knew.
Determined to learn more about these religious sisters, I went to Isiro with a priest I knew to spend a few days with the Comboni missionaries. There, I met Sisters Stefania and Remedios, among others. They offered me some books, and I began to become fascinated by the story of Saint Daniel Comboni, whom I had never heard of before.
His story reminded me of my own. He had seven brothers, all of whom had died, and when his parents were old, he had the courage to leave everything to follow the Lord. I was touched by the fact that, despite his parents’ poverty, he had trusted in God to dedicate his life to the Mission, to dedicate it to others, and to die for Africa. I thought that, even though I loved my family dearly, I too could consecrate my life to God and give it to others. Even though these thoughts were swirling around in my head, I didn’t discuss them with anyone.
Before returning to Bayenga, the nuns of Isiro asked me about my studies. They had a house where they took in girls in their final years of high school. I left for Bayenga, packed up my things, and returned to Isiro to be closer to the nuns and get to know them better while I studied. It was 2011. At the time, Sister Remedios was looking after the girls in the house, but her mother fell ill, and she had to go to Mexico.
There were very few of us; some finished their studies, and others left because they had no interest in continuing, leaving me alone. The Comboni Sisters closed the house and advised me to go to the Padre Óscar Student House, run by the Consolata Missionaries, where they also took in students. That was a difficult time for me, but I stayed in touch with Sister Prado, a Comboni missionary who came regularly to greet me and check on me. She encouraged and helped me a lot during that time. I also went to their community from time to time to be with them.
During that time, Sister Prado developed a severe case of malaria. Since she was home alone, I went to accompany her and help her. Another girl from the parish was also with us. The three of us kept each other company while we awaited the results of the state diploma exams, which grant entry to university. We found out while I was shopping at the market. The joy was immense! I’ll never forget it. But I had decided I wanted to begin my vocational journey with the Comboni Sisters.
Sister Mellis arrived later in Isiro. With her, I deepened my vocational discernment. She came to my home to meet my family and find out what they thought of my vocation. My sister told her, “We have already offered Francine to the Lord. She can follow her own path. We will continue to pray for her.” Under those circumstances, I asked to begin my formation program with the Comboni Sisters.
I completed my pre- and postulancy in my home country. I did the first in Butembo and the second in Kinshasa, the capital. Then I went to Kenya to study English and to Uganda for my novitiate. I professed my first vows on September 14, 2020, and immediately afterwards, I was sent to Zambia, where I still am, but that’s another story. When I look back, I see much suffering in my life, but also many positive experiences.
I have never been alone; I have always had people at my side who helped and advised me. The Lord gave me a good character, and I was able to embrace all the good things they told me. I could never have imagined the paths the Lord would lead me down. I know that I am living the Mission in Zambia by the grace of God, and I am deeply grateful for that.