The Nuns Who Were Kidnapped… and Evangelized Their Captors

(ZENIT News / Guadalajara, 10.23.2026).- On the occasion of the centenary of DOMUND, celebrated this past October 18th under the theme «One in Christ, United in Mission,” the testimony of the Poor Clare Missionaries of the Blessed Sacrament has come to light. They experienced an attack by rebels on their home and clinic in Sierra Leone during the civil war in the 1990s. Their story has been shared under the title: «The Poor Clare Missionaries Who Evangelized Their Captors.»

Young Sister Josephine had known these missionaries — the Poor Clare Missionaries of the Blessed Sacrament — since she was a child; they worked in her community, running a school and a clinic. From the very beginning, the Order’s Founder encouraged the Sisters to work with young girls, aiming to improve the lives of their families. At that time, girls did not attend school; they remained at home, as their parents would not send them to study. The Sisters, however, were committed to fostering and uplifting life.

Sister María Soledad had always dreamed of being a missionary. Before serving as a Superior in Sierra Leone, she spent six years in Ireland, prior to her arrival in Africa.

In 1991, in Sierra Leone, I assisted at a clinic, helping to attend to the sick. At that time, the poverty within this community was palpable. The entire country was extremely poor; more than 200 people would come to the clinic every day for consultations, yet only one Sister was there to provide care. This Poor Clare nun had a great deal of experience: she had previously served in Indonesia and had trained as an anesthetist. A large clinic, complete with a laboratory, was eventually built.

Sister María Soledad recounts the most perilous event she experienced at that time:

“The new clinic was recently opened in 1993. On December 23, the rebels suddenly arrived. And we did not think they would arrive so soon, but on hearing  the noise of the people that were in the clinic, they told us immediately it was the rebels and flew, literally, everyone to hide. In one minute, there was no one in the clinic. Our first priority was to carry out the instructions given by our Superior General: in the event that the rebels arrived, one of us was to consume the Blessed Sacrament (the consecrated hosts), another was to gather the clinic’s documents, a third was to take charge of the Radio, and a fourth was tasked with finding gasoline for the pickup truck. Honestly, we never imagined we would actually reach such a moment, but when the day finally came, we all scrambled to carry out our assigned tasks. The Sister responsible for the Blessed Sacrament ran to the chapel, and we all received Communion. As we waited, wondering when they might enter, we stayed put in the building, bracing ourselves for their arrival.»

By that point, we had prepared to pay the teachers and the nurses, but we ran out of funds… I wondered, «Oh dear, what are we going to do?» Since we didn’t know where we would end up, we decided to split the money among ourselves so that, wherever we might land, each of us would have something to get by on. That’s what we did; as for what would happen later… well, God only knows.

An hour passed, and the rebels arrived. One of them went to the entrance and smashed the padlock with a single blow from a machete. They shouted, «Open the gate! Come out, or we’ll kill you, we’ll start shooting!» Naturally, none of us wanted to be the first to step out.

Finally, we began to leave, each carrying a small bag containing a change of clothes, malaria medication, a bottle of water, and our personal documents, that was all we had. As we walked out, each with our own bag, the person carrying the Radio was terrified because the bag was so heavy. She wanted to discard it right from the start, but I told her, «No, I’ll swap with you as soon as I get the chance.» We were walking in a line, so we couldn’t talk or do anything unusual. Eventually, the moment came when I was able to take her bag, which also had her documents, and I took the Radio. I carried it until we were finally taken to a place where a large group of people had gathered.

We arrived at a school, where they had us sit on benches. They remarked, «The Sisters have arrived; let’s play some music.» At that moment, one of the Sisters suggested, «No, it would be better to pray a Hail Mary,» and they allowed it. The Hail Mary turned into a full Rosary. They were a bit nervous, especially the one standing guard. Then, one of them asked, «Who has the Radio?» I decided it was best to say nothing. I actually had one, but just then, a Sister spoke up: «Yes, I have one right here,» and she pulled a small radio out of her little bag. They almost laughed, because what they had meant was a two-way radio –they wanted to know if we were communicating with anyone.

Every morning and afternoon, we would check in with the other missions, with all the priests and religious Sisters, to see if there was any news. As it turned out, they didn’t take the Radio away from us, and we continued on our journey. They took us along, and we walked for many, many hours.

Eventually, they brought us to a certain spot and began to speak. I gathered my courage and said, «I want to tell you something: do you know why we are here? We are here to help your people. We have left behind our families, our homeland, our language, our customs, everything, solely to come and help you. I don’t know what your reasons are, but we have come only to help.»

At that time, I happened to have some small medals of our Founder with me, and I said to one of the men — I don’t even know why I was holding them in my hand — «Look, whenever you have a problem, ask her for help… she is a Saint; she brought us here, and she will protect us.» He took the medal and even tried to put it on. Suddenly, his demeanor changed, and he said to us, «Everyone get out, we’re leaving!» And just like that, we headed back the way we had come, we were on our way back!

Earlier that morning, all the priests in the diocese had heard the sound of machine-gun fire, and they realized, «The rebels must have reached the Sisters!» They immediately contacted the police in Freetown via radio and said, «The Sisters are being attacked, you should notify the army.»

It was already late when the rebels made us walk, and I could just make out the clinic, the red-tinted windows and the perimeter fence. Then the shooting started; the army had arrived and began firing across the open ground. Many people died there. My only concern was for my Sisters; I saw the young people running back the way we had been brought. At that moment, I said to them, «Another of the senior Sisters is coming this way.» I waited for her, and just then, a young man walking ahead of me was struck in the head by a bullet. God spared me, I don’t know why, but it could easily have been me; I was right behind him.

This was the only way to get the rebels to leave; they retreated into the woods, while we remained where we were. The Sisters who had been with the American volunteers, along with two others, immediately threw themselves to the ground for protection; once everything quieted down, they arrived by a different route. We all eventually gathered at the clinic, from where we were later taken to another location.

The Bishop remained very attentive to our situation. A vehicle, which had been prepared to transport us to the next town, a somewhat calmer area, took us, along with the Sisters we had encountered along the way. The regional Superior came to collect us. It was December 24th, and patients began to arrive, some with machete wounds, so we started providing care. However, the police officers guarding us warned, «If the rebels show up, you must leave immediately!» We had no choice but to get out.

Along the way, we faced many harrowing experiences, for instance, encountering rebels who were posing as soldiers. At one point, near the site where a truck had been burned, we were nearly gunned down. Because some of the Sisters were from Nigeria — a country that supported the army in providing us with aid — the rebels were hostile toward us. Eventually, we managed to reach the regional house.

Sister Josephine concludes the interview: «I was at the boarding school in Nunsar. I was always struck by the way the Poor Clares lived and the care the Sisters showed us. I couldn’t understand why they took such good care of us, they were always attentive, and not just regarding our studies; they gave us all their time and taught us everything, even the smallest things. I used to wonder why the Sisters did all this. I didn’t understand why — it is out of love for God. Furthermore, they worked with great joy and treated us with such affection and respect. I never said anything until the end of my studies, when I told the Sisters: ‘I want to serve just as you do — with joy.’ Everything is done with love, and, above all, we focus heavily on the education of girls, because there is a very famous saying: ‘If you educate a girl, you educate the nation.'»

On the centenary of DOMUND (World Mission Sunday), the story of these missionaries serves as a reminder that a century of missionary zeal translates into thousands of lives dedicated to the service of the Gospel. «One in Christ, United in Mission» is not merely a motto, but an invitation to discover that evangelization begins when the love of Christ becomes visible in our actions, even toward those who cause us harm. For the mission of the Church is measured not only by the places it reaches, but also by the faithfulness with which it makes the love of God present.