Mosul, Iraq, Jan 10, 2018 / 11:34 am (ACI Prensa).- When Iraqi residents fled their homes during the Islamic State invasion, they left behind their houses, neighbors, and day-to-day lives.
For the children who fled, leaving their home behind also meant an interruption in their education – in some cases for months or years.
While some refugee camps offer classes for children, challenges abound and students often fall behind.
Now, a group of Dominican sisters in one Iraqi town is working to help educate displaced children as their families return to their homes and work to rebuild their lives.
With the support of Catholic charity Aid to the Church in Need in Spain, the Dominican Sisters of Saint Catherine of Sienna were able to restore their convent, which had been destroyed by the Islamic State in Iraq. Today, they offer classes to hundreds of children who had been displaced by the war.
“We try to help the children, giving them peace: in our convent we offer them a safe place,” Sister Ilham told ACN in late December. Despite the expulsion of ISIS, security in the area remains unstable.
In May 2017, ACN funded the restoration of Our Lady of the Rosary Convent with a grant of $54,000. Located in Teleskuf, north of the plain of Nineveh, the convent is just over 20 miles outside of Mosul.
The sisters worked 12-hour days to prepare the convent to welcome the children, Sister Ilham said.
They provide daycare for children between three and five years old. In the mornings, they teach about 150 children between the ages of six and 12. In the evenings, they teach students 12 years of age and older.
Sister Ilham, 57, was working for a church in Mosul when the rapid advance of the Islamic State forced her and her community to flee. However, after the fall of the terrorist group, she returned to the area and today is helping those displaced from Teleskuf.
“None of us wanted to leave where we come from, but as the attacks continued, we had to flee to save our lives,” she said.
“In 2016 some 6,000 people had to leave Telskuf. When I returned to this area, all the houses were abandoned and many of them destroyed,” she continued. “In Teleskuf all that is left of many of buildings are the ruins. The school and the children’s home are destroyed, the doors of the convent were forced open and the sisters’ home was sacked.”
In addition to teaching at the convent, the sisters visit the members of the Christian community in their homes, teach catechism to the children, and prepare them for their First Communion.
Once the local school is rebuilt, the children will no longer need to attend the convent classes. In the meantime, the sisters hope they can help the children from falling too far behind in their studies.
“Before the Islamic State invasion, there were five sisters in the convent, while now there are only two of us. Fortunately, we are will soon receive reinforcements,” Sister Ilham said.
In addition to helping fund the convent reconstruction, Aid to the Church in Need is currently helping rebuild 13,000 houses and more than 300 church properties destroyed by the Islamic State in Iraq.
This article was originally published by our sister agency, ACI Prensa. It has been translated and adapted by CNA.
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Monica Biboso and her employer, Ester Rot, while celebrating Rosh Hashanah (the Jewish New Year) in the dining room of Kibbutz Be’eri in 2022. “I don’t feel like a hero because I saved Ester” during the Oct. 7, 2023, massacre, Biboso told CNA. “I would do anything to save her. I just treated her like my mother. Every child would do the same.” / Credit: Photo courtesy of Monica Biboso
Jerusalem, Oct 7, 2024 / 05:00 am (CNA).
One year has passed since Monica Biboso, a 36-year-old Filipino woman who has worked as a caregiver in Israel for over 10 years, was suddenly awakened by the noise of bombs and gunfire in Kibbutz Be’eri, close to the Gaza border.
In a conversation with CNA, Biboso’s eyes moistened as she recalled that day. Hamas fighters surrounded the house, shattered the windows, and set the home ablaze. She still has nightmares and jumps whenever someone knocks on the door of her room at the David Dead Sea Resort by the Dead Sea, where she has been displaced for the past year.
An outing in Sderot of the caregivers who worked at Kibbutz Be’eri on Sept. 5, 2023. Biboso and her employer were transferred to a hotel on the Dead Sea, along with the surviving residents of Kibbutz Be’eri, after the attack on Oct. 7, 2023. About 10 of Biboso’s colleagues joined them, while two died in the attack and five returned to the Philippines. Credit: Monica Biboso
During the Oct. 7, 2023, massacre in Israel that took the lives of almost 1,200 people, 101 civilians were killed in Be’eri and 30 hostages were taken to Gaza, 11 of whom are still being held in captivity.
Biboso not only survived, but she also managed to protect the elderly lady she was caring for — Ester Rot, who is 81 and has dementia. They were the only two survivors from their neighborhood.
“I have never stopped praying because I have always believed that God was there,” Biboso, a Catholic, told CNA. “All the time, I prayed to God and asked him that if my time had come, he would at least protect my children. But God did not want to call me yet, and I survived.”
Biboso is married to a fellow countryman she met in Israel who had returned to the Philippines just a few days before Oct. 7. The couple has two children, ages 7 and 5, who are growing up in the Philippines under the care of Biboso’s sister.
Monica Biboso with her family in the Philippines in April 2024: her husband, Roberto; her daughter, Sofya; and her son, Clarence. In the first few hours of the Oct. 7, 2023, massacre by Hamas, she managed to stay in touch with them, then her cellphone ran out of power. “When I was able to turn my phone back on, I found video messages from my children, crying, kissing and telling me to take care of myself.” Credit: Photo courtesy of Monica Biboso
In the first few hours of being locked in the house’s safe room, Biboso stayed in touch with her family, her Filipino colleagues in the kibbutz, and Rot’s children, but then her cellphone battery died.
“When I was able to turn my phone back on, I found video messages from my children, crying, kissing, and telling me to take care of myself,” she recalled.
Biboso, who was locked in the shelter with Rot for 16 hours, has been trying to forget the experience, but from the start it was clear it would never be possible.
“All the time, I carry my bag with my documents and important things. I am afraid of losing them again. Every night before going to sleep, I need to check outside and lock the door.”
For the past year, Biboso has been undergoing psychological therapy, which is helping her cope with the memories, fear, anguish, and nightmares — and to talk about what she went through.
“When I heard the sirens, I woke Mrs. Ester up, changed her, and dressed her quickly. I gave her her medicine and something to help her sleep, and we took refuge in the safe room of the house. I understood that the situation was serious, as I could hear the gunshots getting closer and closer,” Biboso recounted to CNA.
The closed caption television cameras that Rot’s children had previously installed in the house showed Hamas militants coming and going until they managed to break into the house.
Screenshot of camera footage from Ester Rot’s home at 10:51 a.m. on Oct. 7, 2023, in Kibbutz Be’eri, where Monica Biboso lived and worked as a caregiver for the elderly woman. Two armed men can be seen in the lower left of the screen near the home. Around 11 a.m., Hamas fighters managed to break into the house by blasting a hole with explosives. Shortly afterward they set fire to the house. Credit: Courtesy of Monica Biboso
“For the entire time I was locked in the shelter, I kept praying and saying to God, ‘Help us, I know it’s impossible to save us, but I know you can save us.’”
Around 11 a.m., the Hamas fighters broke into the house by blasting a hole with explosives.
“Maybe God heard me because they couldn’t open the shelter door. I was holding the handle from the inside. He gave me incredible strength.”
The door to the shelter where Monica Biboso and her employer, Ester Rot, were barricaded for 16 hours during the Hamas attack on Kibbutz Be’eri, Oct. 7, 2023. The photo was taken by Biboso when she had the chance to return and check the situation in January 2024. “For the entire time I was locked in the shelter, I kept praying and saying to God, ‘Help us, I know it’s impossible to save us, but I know you can save us,’” Biboso told CNA. “Maybe God heard me because they couldn’t open the shelter door. I was holding the handle from the inside. He gave me incredible strength.” Credit: Photo courtesy of Monica Biboso
Then they set fire to the house.
“We could barely breathe, it was so hot. We had no water, no food, nothing. I thought we were going to die, but I kept praying.”
When asked how she was able to survive, Biboso said: “God saved me. No one was able to help us. I was weak, I couldn’t breathe, my body was shaking, and I was lying on the floor, but I kept praying. Because of him, I survived. I truly believe that. He was with me the entire time I was in the shelter. I could feel it. Without God, I wouldn’t be here.”
The living room of Ester Rot’s home in Kibbutz Be’eri, where Monica Biboso lived and worked as a caregiver for the elderly woman. The house was completely burned down during the Hamas attack on Oct. 7, 2023. The photo was taken by Biboso when she had the chance to return in January 2024. Credit: Photo courtesy of Monica Biboso
Biboso and Rot spent a day in the hospital, then they were transferred to a hotel on the Dead Sea along with the surviving residents of Kibbutz Be’eri. About 10 of Biboso’s colleagues were among them. (Two others died in the attack and five returned to the Philippines.)
“Together with my husband, we decided it was best for me to stay, at least for the time being. I could never have left Mrs. Ester or allowed her to end up in a nursing home after surviving all this. She is like a mother to me,” said Biboso, who lost her own mother at the age of 16.
“I don’t feel like a hero because I saved Mrs. Ester,” Biboso added. “I would do anything to save her. I just treated her like my mother. Every child would do the same.”
“I knew that if I wanted to have any chance of healing and overcoming this trauma, I could only do it here,” she said. “In Israel, psychologists could help me because they understand the context.”
Ultimately, economic reasons also motivated Biboso to stay. Currently, her salary is the only stable income for her family, whom she was able to reunite with for some weeks in April.
Life at the hotel follows a fairly regular routine. “When we get up, I help Mrs. Ester with breakfast, give her a bath, take her for a walk, and do exercises. After lunch, we rest. When I can’t sleep, I crochet. It helps me relax.” Sometimes the two walk along the sea, take a swim, and spend time with friends.
Four months after Oct. 7, Biboso visited Kibbutz Be’eri together with Rot’s children. “It was very hard. I couldn’t stay there for long.” The house was completely destroyed by the flames.
“All my things were burned, everything was reduced to ashes,” Biboso recounted, “But my rosary didn’t burn. I found it beside my bed. It was a little burnt, but the beads were intact, and the cross was still a cross. My husband gave it to me and I used to pray with it every day before sleeping. I know I’m safe because of it.”
Monica Biboso’s rosary, the only one of her belongings left intact after the home of Ester Rot, the elderly woman she cared for and where she also lived in Kibbutz Be’eri, was set on fire by Hamas fighters during the Oct. 7, 2023, attack. “All my things were reduced to ashes,” Biboso recounted, “but my rosary didn’t burn. My husband gave it to me and I used to pray with it every day before sleeping. I know I’m safe because of it.” Credit: Photo courtesy of Monica Biboso
To this day, every night, Bibosa prays the rosary before bedtime. “In the Philippines, when my mother was alive, every day at 6 o’clock we prayed the rosary together before having dinner. I kept doing it.”
After Oct. 7, a nun living in Tel Aviv called Biboso every day, and they prayed together. “She’s helped me a lot. If I can’t sleep, I call her, and we pray together over the phone.”
“Prayer is a big help to me in healing, lightening the burden on my heart, and freeing my mind from negative thoughts,” Biboso said.
Ester Rot, the elderly woman with whom Monica Biboso works as a caregiver, on the shore of the Dead Sea. After surviving the massacre carried out by Hamas on Oct. 7, 2023, the two were displaced to the David Dead Sea Resort along with the other surviving residents of Kibbutz Be’eri. Credit: Photo courtesy of Monica Biboso
In mid-October, Biboso and Rot are expected to move to Kibbutz Hatzerim, where new housing units have been built for the Be’eri survivors.
“First, you need to have faith in God and be thankful for everything,” Biboso said. “You just need to trust him, and he will make a way to save you. This war will also end because of him. He will find a way to bring good out of it all.”
Deacon Johnny Al-Daoud celebrates his release from captivity in Syria on March 2, 2025, with family and friends. / Credit: St. Michael’s Church – Maskana Parish
ACI MENA, Apr 5, 2025 / 07:00 am (CNA).
On the morning of Sunday, March 2, without any prior notice, Johnny Fouad Dawoud, a deacon in the Syriac Catholic Church for the Archdiocese of Homs, was released from a Syrian prison after a decade of confinement.
ACI MENA, CNA’s Arabic-language news partner, spoke with him after he was reunited with his family to discuss his ordeal of being captured by the Al-Nusra Front, his moments of faith and doubt behind bars, and the light that now shines in his life.
Friends and family gather around Deacon Johnny Fouad Dawoud as he returns home on March 2, 2025, after a decade in captivity. Credit: Photo courtesy of Deacon Johnny Fouad Dawoud
ACI MENA: Tell us first about your upbringing and journey in the Church.
Dawoud: I was born into a religiously committed family, and from childhood, I was passionate about participating in pastoral activities. At the age of 12, I joined the minor and then the major seminary in Lebanon, graduating in 2009 with a degree in theology and philosophy from the University of the Holy Spirit in Kaslik, Lebanon.
I returned to Homs to prepare for my priestly ordination, but as the date for the diaconal ordination approached, I felt unprepared to take on those roles and was not entirely convinced about celibacy. After much reflection and consultation, I decided to be honest with God and myself, and withdrew — a decision that surprised my family and friends, especially my uncle, Cardinal Patriarch Mar Ignatius Moses I Daoud.
[Editor’s note: Dawoud later became a permanent deacon in the Syriac Catholic Church, allowing him to read the Epistles during the liturgy.]
What challenges did you face after that?
I got married and was blessed with a child. However, with the outbreak of the Syrian revolution, I lost my home in the Christian district of Hamidiyah in Old Homs due to clashes. Military service was the biggest challenge; I was moved between several fronts, the last being Abu Dhuhur airport, where we were besieged for months.
The situation was tragic; food supplies ran out, and we were forced to eat grass and leaves. The water was contaminated and not potable, leading to various diseases. In September 2015, the rebels stormed the airport, and only 38 out of 300 survived.
Deacon Johnny Fouad Dawoud gives thanks with his family and friends at Mass after his release from prison in Syria. Credit: Photo courtesy of Deacon Johnny Fouad Dawoud
After you were captured and taken to prison, how did you experience captivity?
We were held hoping for a prisoner exchange, but regime officials did not seriously cooperate with our case. At one point, their negotiators even said, “Kill them; we no longer care about them.” Throughout the 10 years, we were generally treated well and were not subjected to torture or insult, except during the initial investigation period. Yet, our suffering was immense, the hardest part being the complete isolation from the outside world, enough to destroy anyone’s psyche. Living in the unknown as if you were dead causes constant turmoil and devastating frustration.
We fell ill, including with COVID-19, which nearly killed us, and we didn’t even know it had claimed millions outside. Food and water were generally good, though the lack of washing and bathroom water troubled us, but we managed.
After three years of captivity, we were allowed one short call per year (during Ramadan) with our families, thanks to a meeting with Abu Mohammad al-Julani, leader of the Al-Nusra Front.
How did this experience affect your faith?
It’s very difficult for a captive to describe his spiritual experience in prison in a few words.
Muslims were interested in discussing religious issues with me, some of whom I avoided debating due to their blind fanaticism — they knew only words like infidel, polytheist, apostate, atheist, and hypocrite.
However, graduates from Islamic legal institutes and colleges were enjoyable to discuss with, as I had a margin of freedom to speak and defend my faith, which they accepted and understood.
I truly loved witnessing to my faith as if I were living among our saintly fathers and martyrs in times of early persecution. I always lived with Apostle Paul, saying with him: “We are ambassadors for Christ,” indeed being an ambassador for Christ and not just in words, in a place where that was considered heresy.
I prayed a lot, conversing with my Lord at night and calling upon him during the day. But it pains me to say that at the beginning of my captivity, as the years passed and my and my family’s suffering increased, my faith wavered. My trust in God began to shake, and I wondered: Why does my Lord not respond to me? Why is he punishing me? What sins did my family commit to deserve all this suffering?
Deacon Johnny Al-Daoud, pictured with family members, was released from captivity in Syria on March 2, 2025. Credit: St. Michael’s Church – Maskana Parish
What about the moment of your release and your reception in Homs?
On the morning of Sunday, March 2, without any prior knowledge, they called my name, asking me to prepare to leave. I stood outside the prison gate, unbelieving that I was free. I was transferred to the Christian village of Ya’qubiya in Idlib countryside, where Father Louai the Franciscan and the locals warmly received me, leaving a lasting impression on me. There, I contacted the pastor of our Syriac Catholic archdiocese, Bishop Jacob Murad, and my family. My brother Munther, who did not know I had been released, began screaming with joy when I told him, “Prepare dinner, I’ll be home this evening.”
When I arrived at my diocese in Homs, Bishop Jacob, along with priests, my wife, my son, and many relatives and friends, were there to receive me. We entered the church to give thanks to the Lord, and I received holy Communion from his eminence the bishop. After receiving congratulations, I headed to my village, Maskanah (in the Homs countryside), and we entered the village with a grand celebration.
Christians and Muslims, young and old, welcomed me, and crowds from other areas came. When I saw the joy of the people at my liberation, I truly and immediately forgot the suffering of those 10 years.
This story was first published by ACI MENA, CNA’s Arabic-language news partner, and has been translated and adapted by CNA.
Bamako, Mali, Jun 23, 2021 / 05:00 am (CNA).
A Catholic priest is among five people kidnapped on Monday in the West African nation of Mali.ACI Africa, CNA’s African news partner, reported that Fr…. […]
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Children are the future leaders of our Planet. May they be blessed with a happy present and a bright future.
Children are the future leaders of our Planet. May they be blessed with a happy present and a bright future.