“After spending over two decades in Italy, despite my 78 years of age and the loss of my vocal cords due to cancer in 2000, I couldn’t resist the inner urge to return to the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC).” Father Fernando Zolli tells us his story.

In the 1990s and early 2000s, I lived for 12 years on the outskirts of Kinshasa and in the eastern part of the country. Those were times both of hope and disturbances. I shared with the people of the capital the initiative of the Sovereign National Conference (SNC) for the democratisation of the country. On February 16, 1992, I was among the thousands of participants in the March of Hope, which called for the resumption of the SNC’s work, interrupted by President Mobutu.

In the Congo, I experienced moments of anguish and anxiety due to popular discontent and uprisings, looting, and violence of all kinds. I lived through the outbreak of the so-called Great Lakes War in 1996, which forced most of the population into isolation and robbed them of their livelihoods. I witnessed the birth of a guerrilla war that still bloodies the eastern part of the country today, fomented by rebel groups like the M23, supported by Rwanda and other industrialised countries. Their concern is not with territorial stability, but with plundering precious minerals like coltan and uranium with impunity, destroying forests for valuable wood, intimidating the population with violence and murder in inland villages, or abusing and humiliating women, using them as weapons of war.

I returned to the DRC convinced that a missionary’s first duty is to be present in a humble, respectful, and silent manner. People’s expectations and reality itself would then dictate the agenda of my activities. On the day of my arrival in Kinshasa, June 6, 2025, along the road from the airport to our community, I noticed a huge billboard with a slogan that caught my attention: “Kin Bopeto,” or “Clean Kinshasa.” I immediately realised it was just a slogan, because the megalopolis is overrun with garbage, submerged in plastic, with nauseating streams and chaotic, unpredictable traffic.

If you ask people frantically walking down the street where they’re going, many will reply: “Nakeikobetilanga,” which means “I’m going to break stone.” This expression can be interpreted in various ways: overcoming obstacles to make it through the day and have something to eat, getting lucky, inventing some trick to earn enough to care for a child, or seeking help to pay school fees. This is my first priority here: to care for our common home and for the defenceless, those who, through no fault of their own, suffer the consequences of climate change caused by the greed of industrialised countries.

In these first months, I’ve also learned to purify my gaze to grasp the beautiful things and the potentialities that are taking shape, such as the commitment of Bilenge ya Mwinda (“Youth of Light” in Lingala), a Catholic youth movement dedicated to cleaning public areas and collecting plastic bottles that people throw into drains and streams.

Just then, I received a request: to become a formator for the young Comboni Missionaries studying theology at the scholasticate in Kintambo, one of the districts of Kinshasa, and who are about to complete their preparation for the mission. I must admit that the proposal surprised me, but the superiors in Rome insisted, and I accepted. In this community, there are 27 of us, from 18 different nationalities. Being here means experiencing the newness of Pentecost. I admit I feel a bit like Nicodemus, because I must be “born again.”

This is a wonderful challenge that pushes me to rethink my methods, renew my goals, abandon all certainties, and let myself be fuelled by the desire for a future and a fulfilling life for young people. I must also admit I’m fortunate. I’m living my old age in the Congo, one of the newest countries in the world, with an average age of 16, compared to 42 in the West. The strength of young people is like a raging river: nothing and no one can stop it. Their resilience and their desire to live herald a rebirth. Being in Africa is a great gift given to me: I hope I don’t miss the dawn of its rebirth, fuelled by all this youthful energy.