“When I opened the door, suddenly there were two to three thousand people in front of our gate. Almost exclusively women and children. Fleeing the war.” That same evening, all hell had broken loose in the neighbouring town. The war in South Sudan was intensifying and people were forced to flee. “The town was about five kilometres from the Salesian community,” Tuli says. “Relatively difficult to reach, but that didn’t deter them. When they stood at our gate in their thousands, I knew I had to help them and provide shelter.” A small decision with big consequences. In just a few days, the estate was transformed into a refugee camp for nearly 20,000 refugees. Fr Tulimelli - better known as Tuli - came to be in charge. “It was a hard time,” he looks back. “I doubted a lot, but always thought back to my own childhood.”

For that, we have to go back to India. Growing up a Hindu, Tuli and his family were part of one of the lower sections of the population. At the bottom of the social ladder, so to speak. He attends a Catholic school and there he comes into contact with the Salesians of Don Bosco for the first time. “Next to our school was a seminary. That’s where I first saw the Salesians,” Tuli explains. “They were different from other priests, I saw that immediately. They were also concerned with the lower class, with the poor children. The Salesians didn’t look at social status or religion. They went beyond those boundaries. As children, we were always taught that there had to be a distance between the priest and the people. Suddenly, I saw Salesians playing with poor Hindu children. ‘These are different people,’ I thought then. The door was always open for the poor children.”

One of those salesians was missionary Jan Lens (+ 2014) from Antwerp. “Jan is still a kind of father, even a God to me,” Tuli believes. “He made me want to become a salesian and gave me lots of tips on how to be a good missionary.” For Tuli knew immediately that he wanted to be a missionary. “As a child, I heard many stories of missionaries and was especially inspired by Jan’s choice. He left all his comforts behind, learned our language, did Mass in our language and even ended up in jail. He left everything behind to become one of us. ‘We don’t choose where we are born, but we must do all we can to make the world a better place for everyone.’ Those words of father Jan I have always remembered.”

Exactly what Tuli wanted to do in South Sudan. “Father Lens helped me in the past and now was my moment to give something back. I followed my heart and let God guide me. I saw God in the poor people, as Jan also saw in me. I did not become a missionary to convince people of Christianity,” he explains. “During my time in South Sudan, I did not force anyone to be baptised or try to convert anyone. I do not strive for a world full of Christians, but for a world full of humanity. I want to be to other people what John was to me. Religion does not matter in that. The people in the refugee camp felt the same. At first they were suspicious: ‘Should we trust this Catholic priest?’, but soon they understood who I was and what my goal was: ‘He doesn’t want to convert us, but to help us.’“

Although that did not go smoothly, as the camp also united different cultures and religions. “The camp consisted of 90-95 per cent women and children,” says Tuli. “Women and children with different religions, rituals, cultures and so on. For many of them, there was a perception that their tribe and religion was great and the rest were bad. I wanted to address that as soon as possible. I am not striving for a world full of Christians, but for a world full of humanity. We are not tribes or religions, we are human beings. All these women had numerous traumas to deal with: the loss of their husbands, rape or even rape of their children. I tried to unite them from this connecting element. Trauma brought them together.”

What started with the distribution of food parcels soon grew into a structural entity where education was central. “Before I arrived in South Sudan, I had never seen a weapon,” Tuli explains. “So for me too, this was quite a culture shock. One day we played a little play with the children. All of them grabbed bamboo sticks to make weapons out of them. All wanted to be soldiers. War was central to this country. Then it dawned on me that we had to do more. We had to not only feed these people, but above all educate them. So, step by step, various initiatives emerged: sewing classes, jewellery making, a bakery, and so on. But above all, the children had to go to school. That was a priority for me. Children not going to school? Leave camp. Rigorous, but I tried to look at the long term. These people not only had to survive the war, they had to have something to start a new life after the war.”

Step by step, this vision became clear. So when Tuli left the camp in 2018, the thanks were great. “Some women had come together to buy shoes for me. I didn’t want to take them, but they obliged me. ‘What we were versus what we are now is because of you,’ it sounded. In 2021, I visited the camp again. One of the girls I had helped then had named her child Tuli. Later I learnt that there were at least some two to three hundred women who had named their child ‘Tuli’ or ‘David’.”

The ‘real’ Tuli looks back on his time in South Sudan with a warm heart. “All these experiences made me realise that God has His own plan for me. I heard tragic stories and experienced painful things, but also saw a lot of positive change,” he concludes. “I don’t look at colour, race, gender, position or weight. I look at people. When I was nobody, I became somebody thanks to Father Lens. Now I give back what I was given. For how long? As long as I live. I also pass that on to children: ‘My help you get for free, but do the same later.’ Jan Lens’ drop saved me, now I want to be that drop myself. And if all these children also become such a drop themselves, one day we can fill an ocean with goodness.”

Tim Bex

Source : Don Bosco Magazine

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