Our patron was born around 1869 in the country of Sudan.

“My family lived at the very heart of Africa at the outskirts of Darfur, in a village named Algoznei, close to Mount Agilerei. Our family consisted of my parents, three brothers and four sisters. There had also been four others whom I have never seen because they died before I was born. I had a twin sister. I lived a very happy and carefree life then, without knowing what suffering meant.” (1) In these first years of her life, children of the village played together, the members of the community loved to dance, and the main occupation was breeding cattle and sheep. Life was good.

 

When she was 5, everything changed. In a surprise attack, slave traders ransacked her village and took one of her sisters away. As she later recounted, “I can recall vividly how bitterly my mother cried and how we all cried too. In the evening, when my father returned from work and learned of the tragedy, livid with fury, he immediately set off with his workers to search all over the countryside. But all in vain. My sister was gone forever.” (3)

At age 7, she was taken by slave traders and mistreated.

A few years later, the little girl herself would experience the same fate, being snatched away by slave traders, never to return to her home village or family again. The little girl was so shaken up by the whole experience that whenever those who captured her asked her name, she couldn’t answer because she couldn’t remember. Because she couldn’t remember, they gave her the name ‘Bakhita.’ Bakhita is Arabic for ‘lucky one.’

After spending one month locked in a small hut by the slave traders, Bakhita was sold and began a 600-mile march towards the city of El Obeid. With another young girl, she managed to escape for a few days as they tried to find their way back home but were soon caught by someone else and continued the march with a different master. In El Obeid, she was sold to a wealthy chief to serve his mother and wife. She lived in their household for 3 years and recounted, “I can say in all truth that, in the three years I spent in their service, there was not even one day when I was not dealt some severe punishment or other.” (7) After one such punishment, she was confined to bed for 2 months in recovery. Life was full of suffering.

Near the end of her time with this chief, she underwent perhaps the greatest form of torture towards slaves at that time, tattooing. In the process, 114 lacerations that turned into permanent wounds were created on her body. During the process, she had to watch others get tattooed before it was her turn. She passed out. She later recounted, “the scars are still evident on my body. I can really say that it was by a miracle of God that I did not die, for He had destined me for better things.” (9)

In her teenage years, Bakhita was taken to Italy.

Around the age of 14, Bakhita was sold again to an agent of the Italian consul in Sudan. Even though she was still not free, he was kind and there were no more punishments. Eventually, he took her with him back to Italy. In Italy, she was given to another family about to have a baby. Bakhita would become the baby’s nanny and friend in a new and foreign land.

In Italy, Bakhita encountered Catholicism.

“I am praying much for them, that the Lord who has been very good and generous to me may be the same to them, so as to bring them all to conversion and salvation… poor things, they were not wicked; they did not know God, or maybe they did not think they hurt me so much. They were the masters; I was their slave. If I were to meet those who kidnapped me, and even those who tortured me, I would kneel and kiss their hands. For if these things had not happened, I would not have been a Christian and a religious today.” (9) With these words reflecting on her early life, Bakhita’s life would take a different direction. She sought reconciliation with her fellow human beings.

 

Once arriving in Italy, Bakhita was inevitably immersed in the world of Catholicism, something she had never heard of before, let alone Christianity. Once in Italy, an Italian man gave her a little silver crucifix. Upon receiving it, she said, “when he handed it to me, I noticed that he kissed it with great devotion. He explained to me that Jesus Christ was the son of God, and that he died for us. I remember how, as I looked at the crucifix, I experienced a strange feeling which I could not explain.” (13) In the crucifix, she saw a savior who reconciled the world to God.

 

Even though her experience with Catholicism was new, Bakhita was also able to reconcile it with her past religious experiences. She said, “I remember how, as a child, when I contemplated the sun, the moon, the stars, and all the beautiful things of nature, I was wondering who is the master of it all? And I felt a keen desire to see him, know him, and pay him homage. Now, at last, I knew him. Thank you, my God, thank you!” (13)

 

To learn more about Catholicism and to provide some basic education to her, Bakhita was sent to a boarding school, which was run by the Canossian Sisters near Venice as an Institute for Catechumens. By the end of her time living with the sisters, she wanted to be baptized.

Bakhita was declared free and was baptized.

As she neared her baptism day, Bakhita still technically belonged to her master, a master who came to take her back home. At this point, a serious issue arose, one that had to be handled by a court hearing. Bakhita did not want to leave the Canossian Sisters, even after 3 days of pleading from her master. On November 29, 1889, the courts resolved the issue by declaring Bakhita free on the grounds that slavery was illegal in Sudan by the late 1860s when she was born and because it was illegal in Italy. Bakhita was finally liberated.

Bakhita’s first act of liberation was to say ‘no’ to her master so she could then say ‘yes’ to her new master, Jesus Christ the Lord. She was baptized on January 9, 1890. The priest who performed the ceremony was Cardinal Joseph Sarto, who would later become Pope Pius X. At her baptism, the cardinal gave her the baptismal name ‘Josephine’ in addition to ‘Bakhita,’ thus renaming her Josephine Bakhita. She recalled, “what an unforgettable day that was.” (15) One friend in attendance said, “Josephine was radiant…She was transfigured with joy.” (15)

Josephine Bakhita became a Canossian Sister herself.

After 4 more years of studying and praying at the boarding school of the Canossian Sisters, Josephine Bakhita said, “I could hear, more and more clearly, the gentle voice of the Lord, urging me to consecrate my life to Him.” (16) Her race made her doubt her religious vocation. She asked, “could a poor African girl be allowed to become a religious?” When the superior asked ‘why not,’ she replied, “I see only Italian sisters in the convent.” (16) Eventually, Josephine Bakhita found the freedom to express her desire to join the Canossian Sisters. Looking back on her decision, she said, “when people hear my story, they keep saying “poor thing, poor thing.” As a liberated woman in so many ways, she responded, “I am not a poor thing. I belong to the master, I am living in his house. It is those who are not wholly the Lord’s who are poor things.” (16) Her liberation led her to a life of holiness. For the rest of her life, Sr. Josephine Bakhita served as a cook in an orphanage, a sacristan for mass, and a porter at the convent doors. All these trivial positions became significant to her as she did them all with great freedom.

Sr. Josephine Bakhita died on February 8, 1947.

Sadly, as she became confused near death, some of her childhood trauma emerged in her cries. With the help of her sisters, in her final moments on earth, they reminded her of Mary and her last words were, “Yes I am so happy. Our Lady, Our Lady.” She died on February 8, 1947, at 8:10 PM.