Sister Josephine Bakhita began her life as a sister with joy and a confidence rooted in her love for Jesus. She was still at the school where she had been baptized and had completed her training to be a sister. She loved its chapel, the sisters, the students, and the people who supported the Congregation and its ideals.
Now Bakhita was ready to receive her first assignment. Whatever it might be, she was willing to accept it as coming from Jesus, the Good Master. The word for master in the Venetian dialect is paron. Jesus, her Paron, would lead her on and would make it possible for her to do his will for the rest of her life.
In 1902, Sister Bakhita learned she was being transferred to Schio (pronounced Skee-oh). Schio was a beautiful town in northern Italy, situated in the foothills of the Alps. It was famous for its wool-making industry. The Canossian Sisters had arrived in Schio in 1886, sponsored by the generous owner of the large wool factory, Signora Luigia Rossi, who donated land to them. The sisters had used it to develop their missionary services for a town that grew to love them.
The Congregation started a kindergarten and grade school for the children of the factory workers. Gradually, a high school that focused on teacher training was added. Next came schools for embroidery and dressmaking, an orphanage, a boarding house, and a Sunday school. Each of these labors was very much a part of the Canossian Sisters’ mission.
In this busy community there would be plenty for Bakhita to learn and do. She was excited and full of enthusiasm to do the Lord’s work. Bakhita had shed a few tears when leaving her beloved school, Sister Maria, and the community of sisters in Venice. Of course, her journey of faith, Baptism, and novitiate training were precious memories that would follow her to Schio.
“I will very willingly perform any task I’m given,” she told her superiors. And she meant it.
Word spread, from family to family, that a new sister had arrived at the convent. This was not so unusual, of course. Canossian Sisters were transferred to various convents according to the needs of their apostolic work. The townspeople were always anxious to meet newcomers. But this particular sister was of even greater interest, because she was from Africa.
Information was coming out slowly, too slowly for the neighbors. They learned her name: Sister Josephine Bakhita. “Bakhita,” the neighbors repeated. They had never heard such a name! Those who had errands and business at the convent caught glimpses of her. They noticed that Bakhita was tall and slender. She walked gracefully, although with a very slight limp—a residue of her life as a slave. Her complexion was dark. “How dark?” curious neighbors asked those who had seen her. “Black. Ebony,” came the replies. Sister Bakhita became known as Sister Moretta, which simply meant “the black sister.” This affectionate nickname would stay with her for the rest of her life.
Bakhita was a lovely woman. Her dark complexion was smooth and her brown eyes were soft and gentle. Her full lips easily broke into a smile, revealing her beautiful white teeth. She had a calm manner and always seemed content to be doing what she was doing at any given moment. Because Bakhita wore the distinctive headdress of her Congregation, people could not see the tight black ringlets that hid underneath.
“She must have an interesting story to tell us,” someone said. “How did she happen to come to Schio all the way from Sudan?”
“Oh yes,” another neighbor agreed. “It must be quite an inspiring story. May we hear it soon!” Little by little, the population of Schio would learn Sister Moretta’s incredible life history.
It was time now for Sister Bakhita to put into practice all she had learned during her years as a novice. An essential element of the Canossian spirituality is the willingness to do whatever is required. Her first assignment at the convent in Schio was to help in the kitchen. She would be assisted by a group of younger sisters, who would rotate in turn.
This was new and different work for Sister Bakhita. She may have expected to continue the embroidery and beadwork she had learned at the convent in Venice, but that was not to be. Sister Bakhita happily joined the kitchen staff. She quickly grasped the importance of their work. Three meals daily for the sisters, the student boarders, and the sisters in the infirmary required energy and love.
Bakhita was sensitive and caring. She followed instructions from the doctors regarding the special dietary needs of each patient, and still had time to think up additional ways to make life more pleasant for everyone. The sisters and students quickly learned to recognize the gentle touch of the sister from Africa. The most striking example of this had to do with the long, icy winter months. In this northern Italian town, the weather was frigid, often with temperatures below zero. In those days before central heating, the convent rooms, including the dining hall, were drafty and cold.
Sister Bakhita devised a way to ease the inconvenience. She would hurry into the kitchen in the early morning immediately after community prayer and place the stacks of plates, dishes, and cups near the open flames of the fireplace to warm. Thanks to her, food and drink reached the sisters and students piping hot. And they appreciated it!
Five years later, Sister Bakhita was given full responsibility for managing the kitchen. Younger sisters in training were assigned as part-time helpers. Sometimes new, inexperienced helpers would offer their ideas and suggestions. Gentle Sister Bakhita never felt her authority threatened, but thanked each one and tried to put their suggestions into practice.
Bakhita always thought carefully about her words and actions as she carried out her duties. She was very particular about serving every meal on time. This was out of the love she had for the Lord, her Master. How could she tell him that a meal would not be ready on time? Her meals were never late!
In 1910 the superior of the Schio house, Sister Margherita Bonotto, came to Bakhita with a request.
“Sister, you have had such an interesting and unusual life. Would you consider letting us write down your story so the Congregation will always have a record of it?”
Sister Bakhita wasn’t sure why anyone would ever want to read such a story, but, always obedient, she agreed to try. She told the story of her life to Sister Teresa Fabris, who recorded it. This thirty-one-page manuscript, written in Italian, is still preserved in the historical archives of the Canossian Sisters in Rome. The account forms the basis for much of what we know today about her early life as a slave and the joy she found in her faith.
That peace of soul was what Bakhita prayed and hoped for the whole world. But beyond the convent doors, life was anything but peaceful...