As I was on the last journey of my initial formation in the seminary, I was privileged to share a couple moments with my fellow brother in mission, Fr. Amini Ravuwai, who was a couple of years behind in the seminary but had a strong conviction to serve on mission as well.
At one point in time, we were sent to serve in a summer mission in the north of Lima, Peru, in the middle of the desert. A small village called Caceres near the city of Chimbote. After a hard day’s work of visiting the families in that area, we came back to the lodging house and sat on the street overlooking the endless mountains of desert lands.
We sat there for a while enjoying the cool breeze and the beautiful sunset; we were tired and satisfied with the day’s work. He turned to me and said, “Can you imagine how far we have come? From the day we accepted the invitation to serve our wonderful God and walk into the unknown, we have come from the tropical islands of Fiji to these desert mountains of Peru.” This reminded me of Joshua 1:9: “I hereby command you; be strong and courageous; do not be frightened or dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” It was there that I came to this profound experience of what it truly means to follow God into this beautiful journey into the unknown.
I was finally ordained in 2018 and was sent to serve in Chile, while Fr. Amini was ordained in 2020 and was sent to Peru. We would occasionally meet when I would visit him in Lima, and we would share about the joyful moments and the challenging moments we experienced in our mission journey, which was very encouraging and life-giving for both of us.
In May/June 2024, we had the Columban General Assembly in Lima, and part of the informal conversations were that some of us might have to leave our current places of mission to work in other countries and start from scratch, like learning languages and learning new cultures. I found it very difficult since it took a long time to even understand half of what people were talking about in Chile, since the Spanish they spoke was very fast and challenging.
I feared what this might entail for me, so I called Fr. Amini and asked him “brother, if you were told that for the necessity of mission, you had to leave Peru and serve in another country and learn a new language and restart from scratch again, would you do it?” he asked me what this meant and why I was asking him, I replied to just answer the question from the heart.
After a long pause, he finally answered, “I have followed Him this far, and after all that He has given me, I am willing to follow Him anywhere.” I Fr. Martin at Mass wiped the tears from my eyes and went back inside with my heart affirmed.
In September 2024, my brother Fr. Amini was diagnosed with cancer, which surprised and worried me, so I called him and asked how he felt. He said, “There are a lot of things going on in my mind, but one question that resounds stronger in me is, “Why? Why me, why now? I am only beginning my mission, four years on the journey and he has given me this.” I told him I couldn’t answer his question but that I would pray about it and call him every day to see if he was able to find the answer.
On January 9, 2025, my brother breathed his last and passed away. He never told me the answer to the question. I kept praying about it though, and for the first year of the anniversary of his death I decided to write a song about him.
It was there that I came to this profound experience of what it truly means to follow God into this beautiful journey into the unknown.
It took a whole year to bring the words into paper, as the whole song revolved around that question that my brother had asked me, and after so much discernment and prayer and with the help of Fr. Napa and Fr. Iowane (my fellow Columban brother priests on mission in Peru), we finally managed to compose the song, but the hardest to form was the chorus, but it was worth it as it answered my brother’s question, or so to what we believe.
The first part of the chorus to the song goes:
Why me? Why now? I’ve just
been anointed, why here? Why
now? Is all I am seeking?
And the second part of the
chorus is what we would imagine
God answering him, saying:
It is I who have called you,
from the womb; it is I who have
sent you, to be my voice to the
poor.
After all the roller coaster of emotions and this journey of accompanying him in mission, I realized that following Christ in mission to the unknown is a sacrifice and a life-giving journey where to serve the poor is to laugh with them, and cry with them, and if the necessity comes forward, to die with them.
Fr. Tony mentioned in his reflection at the cemetery before we finally placed his body to rest that Fr. Amini gave his life to the mission until his final breath, and he was willing to be buried in his land of mission, to which someone in the mourning crowd mentioned, “And now he is part of us as well.”
In the silence that followed his burial, as the desert wind carried the last prayers into the evening sky of Peru, I began to understand what my brother had lived so faithfully. The question “Why me? Why now?” was never truly about timing, nor about fairness. It was about trust. And trust, I have learned, is the deepest language of mission.
When we first sat on that dusty street in Cáceres, dreaming aloud about how far God had brought us— from Fiji to the deserts of Peru—we could not have imagined how far “wherever you go” would truly lead. Not just across oceans and continents, but into suffering, surrender, and ultimately into love poured out completely.
My brother followed Him this far. And in the end, he followed Him all the way.
In the silence that followed his burial, as the desert wind carried the last prayers into the evening sky of Peru, I began to understand what my brother had lived so faithfully.
Fr. Amini’s life became the answer he was searching for. He was called from the womb. He was sent to be a voice to the poor. And even in his illness, even in his dying, he remained that voice—preaching not from the pulpit, but from a hospital bed; not with grand homilies, but with quiet endurance and unwavering faith.
Standing at his grave, when someone said, “And now he is part of us as well,” I felt the truth of those words settle deeply within me. Mission had taken him from Fiji to Peru, but love had rooted him there forever. He was no longer a foreign missionary. He was a brother of the land, a seed planted in the soil he had come to serve.
And perhaps that is the mystery of this journey into the unknown: we never walk it alone. Not when we first say yes. Not when we are sent to new lands. Not when we face fears of beginning again. And not even when we pass through death.
The Lord who commanded us to be strong and courageous has remained faithful. He was there in the desert sunsets, in the laughter shared after long days of visitation, in the trembling uncertainty of new assignments, and in the hospital room where my brother wrestled with his final question.
I don’t yet fully understand why it was him or why it was then. But I know this: his life was not cut short— it was completed. Completed in fidelity. Completed in love. Completed in mission.
And as I continue my own journey—into new places, new languages, new uncertainties—I carry his words in my heart: “I have followed Him this far… I am willing to follow Him anywhere.”
Mission is a journey into the unknown, but never alone. Because the One who calls us walks before us. And sometimes, He also walks beside us in the life of a brother who shows us how to say yes—until the very end.
Columban Fr. Martin Koroiciri lives and works in Chile.
