50th Priestly Anniversary of Fr Albert Jacobse MHM

On the occasion of Fr Albert Jacobse’s 50th anniversary celebration of his priesthood, Today’s Catholic had an interview with him. The interview below is the original unedited one.

[Show as slideshow]

Father, tell us about your family life in Holland as a child.

I was born just before the 2^nd World War broke out (to be precise, on 29 December 1938) into a family of ten siblings. Only the last two years of the War can I remember as a time of fear, hunger and dreadful cold in the winter.

I have no idea how my parents managed – even though there were ten mouths to be fed, there was always something left for those who knocked on the door for help. The country was plundered and devastated. Lots of prayers were said at that time, storming heaven for an end to the war and to have peace.

Strange to say but I believe that was the time that the foundation stone was laid for my vocation. We were a strongly knit family, not overpious but faithful to witness to God’s love in spite of the problems that we encountered.

How did you get the idea of becoming a priest? Did you want to join the Mill Hill Missionaries from the beginning?

Thinking of being a priest came to me only after my Form 6 when I came in contact with a Dutch missionary who was working in Brazil with the tribal people of the mighty Amazon River. True enough, I had an uncle as well as my eldest brother working as missionaries in the Congo (now known as Zaire), but this particular priest who I met on one of my many bicycle tours through Europe really made an impact on me with his exciting stories. At that time I was not sure as yet what my future would be. I certainly did not want an office job; I probably was too wild for that, too adventurous. It was only then that I made up my mind to become a missionary deep in the jungles of Brazil.

What did your family say?

Mentioning this to my dad was not easy. Being the youngest son, I was, what you could call, his blue-eyed boy and how he wished me to join him in his business. He was generous enough to allow me to go my way but I am sure it must have broken his heart.

Then, what happened?

I completed my studies and was ordained in Mill Hill on 12 July 1964 and it was on the same day that I got my appointment … not for Brazil but for Borneo! That was of course a bit of a disappointment but I soon got over that and became enthusiastic for this new mission field.

 On 1 November 1964, I left Amsterdam by train for Genua and boarded an old freighter there that took six weeks to get across to Singapore. From there, I was told that there was a boat ‘The Rajah Brooke’ that was leaving within two days for Kuching, Sibu and Miri.

What was your first impression of Borneo?

Arrival in Miri was an adventure by itself. It was low tide and the mighty Rajah Brooke was unable to sail up the Miri River. No problem – four passengers at a time were asked to stand in the middle of a net spread out on deck and so we were hoisted up belly-to-belly onto a small fishing boat. With great laughter and lots of fun we came to shore where Bishop Galvin was waiting for us.

What were those early years like?

My first appointment was to Limbang but, after one year there, the Bishop came to tell me that he wanted me to go to Long San and asked me whether I was willing to do so. I had no idea where Long San was but it sounded an adventurous place and so I said, “Yes, let me try it.”

 So, in December 1965, I found myself in a longboat going up the Baram where for the first time I experienced rapids and the ‘fun’ of pulling the boat over them. I just loved it. Of course, the language in the beginning was a problem. Kayan, Kenyah and, on top of that, a bit of Punan thrown in.

 I remember my first trip further upriver from Long San to the end of the Parish. Temenggong Oyong Laway Jau was so kind to ask me to come along and so I travelled in style with the paramount chief of the Kenyahs and Kayans.

 One day, I was served some kind of soup with the head of a fish in it (ikan semah). Great … but in my country we throw the head of the fish away; it was considered not clean enough for human beings to consume. Here I was trying to learn to eat it!!! In the beginning, I just picked at it. How amazed I was that it actually tasted very delicious … finger-licking good.

 And so, there were many more things I had to learn to cope with. No tapwater … no toilets … the whole jungle was yours!! The kampung pigs that followed you when you were at your business and you had to keep a stick in your hand to keep them away. The river was your bathroom. I just fell in love with all these different ways of living. The little oil-lamps in the evening and night, the pressure lamps which were only used for special occasions. The story-telling, the dances … the whole way of living was so different and so beautiful. No newspaper or mail or TV.

How did the local people respond to you?

The people were just great; their hospitality knew no limits; they gave the best they had. The other day I heard a story from a lady who was at that time a young child. Her parents told her and her siblings not to use a particular plate or cup because that was meant for the priest whenever he would come for a visit. “You do not let the priest eat from a chipped plate or a broken cup”.

Were the local customs and beliefs a hindrance to evangelisation?

At that time, there were only a handful of Catholics in that area of the upper Baram and it was still an uphill fight to make sure that the dayong or witch doctor would not have the upper hand.

 Education of the youth was the key for further development of the Church. It was in Long San that the Sisters of St Francis of Sarawak were indispensable in the educational field as well as in looking after the health of the people.

What were some of the other challenges at that time?

One of my greatest challenges was how to keep everything financially going especially after the Bishop decided that all the mission stations had to be self-supporting and that no grant would come forth any more from the Diocese.

 My bookkeeping consisted at that time of: on the credit side – Chicken received – and on the debit side – Chicken consumed – or something along that line.

 Another challenge was how to teach the people who could not read or write. They had to learn everything by heart and that was not easy for the older folk. Once they knew the Our Father, Hail Mary and the Creed and they had showed up every Sunday for six months on end to follow the Sunday prayer-service, they were considered to be ready for baptism. Pre-marriage courses and RCIA courses did not exist at that time and the prenuptial inquiry was done in public. Everybody wanted to hear what was being said. There were certainly no secrets in the longhouses. It was the longhouse community that kept the Christian families together. That was great but, of course, not perfect. It was a good beginning.

 Communicating with the people was not always easy. It was one’s presence that counted, being a witness to God’s love for everyone. Preaching or teaching was not the most important but the example one gave was a boost for the people to get away from animism and to become Christians.

 Yes, that was not always easy and many a time tears were shed when you were misinterpreted by the authorities at that time.

What did you think when you came to serve in Kuching in 1999?

What a different world that was! I had difficulty getting adjusted to these new circumstances. My body was in Kuching but my heart was still in the ulu Baram. I had the feeling that my missionary life had come to an end. It was all so different from what I had been used to. People were so well-educated; they had salaries, cold and hot water, air-conditioning, 24 hours of electricity, TV, and heaven knows what more, name it and it was there.

 Yes, I found it difficult; I did not know many people, maybe a handful. My faith was tested and I believe that it was my awareness that God never leaves people in the lurch, that He travelled alongside me and that He never let me wander out of His sight – these kept me going. His Spirit was there hugging me, pushing me through the parishioners in Kuching.

What was your most fulfilling ministry in Kuching?

The most fulfilling – and most difficult – ministry I experienced in Kuching was to help the less-abled, and to reach out to the migrants and their children. In short, to be there for all those who are so vulnerable. There are so few of us who would like to spend some time with them. Seemingly it is easy to give money but not so easy to give some of our free time.

Any other interesting stories to share with us?

Here’s one:

It must have been in early 1970. I had been travelling for two weeks and was to reach Long Moh where there were some Catholics but where the majority was still deep in animism. I just didn’t feel going there; maybe too tired or just fed up and decided to skip that particular longhouse and to push on to the next where the people had just been newly baptised. We had passed the mouth of the Moh River when suddenly I saw in the overcast sky the outline of a Cross, straight like a ruler and in blue.

 For me that was a sign from God … telling me not to pass by but to stay because these are also “My People”. I was shaken and turned around to go up to that longhouse. So I stayed there for two nights and, believe me or not, not very long after that experience, the people gradually became all good Christians. Truly God’s ways are wonderful.

Any message for us?

I would like to thank all the people: bishops, priests and parishioners who have helped me to be where I am now in life with the help of God’s grace. Let us remember each other in our prayers. Puji Tuhan (praise the Lord)!

Thank you, Father, and God bless you!