Father Andrew Cuschieri; served Bolivia's poor (TERRIFIC)
Hyfler/Rosner
Father Andrew Cuschieri, 70: Mud huts changed his life
CATHERINE DUNPHY
OBITUARY WRITER Toronto Star
Three years ago, Father Andrew Cuschieri struck a deal with
God. Give this caustic, cigarette-smoking, coffee-swilling
priest some more time on this Earth and he would erect a
couple of churches, finish up a school and fine-tune a
vibrant community hospital.
He asked for three months. He got more than three years.
And when Father Andrew died of cancer June 12 at age 70, he
left behind a fully equipped 24-bed hospital, two schools
and three new churches in the Bolivian province of
Cochabamba. He also left The Human Family in Christ, a
registered charitable organization run by volunteers out of
Streetsville's St. Joseph's Parish who are determined Father
Andrew's work won't stop with his death.
Hundreds came to that church on June 15 to celebrate his
funeral mass, which was led by the Archbishop of Toronto,
Cardinal Aloysius Ambrozic, two bishops and 54 priests.
Solemn and regal, it was an appropriate tribute to a man who
had been made a Knight of Malta and a member of the Legion
of the Condors of the Andes, Bolivia's highest civilian
award.
But what he would have really appreciated were the simple
services held by the villagers of Colcapirhua, Quillacollo,
Sumumpaya and Capacachi on the same day - because, since the
summer of 1986, that was where his heart was.
"He saw people living in a series of mud huts," said Tal
Akermanis, a friend, parishioner and member of the Human
Family in Christ charity. "This thing had gripped his soul.
It ruled his life."
His brother, Hamilton educator Tony Cuschieri, describes it
as an "obsession." After Father Andrew's first trip to
Bolivia, he came back to Canada a changed man. "He was
visibly touched by the poverty of those people."
The eldest son in a Maltese family of eight, Joseph
Cuschieri joined the Franciscan order of the priesthood when
he was 16. He became Father Andrew when he was ordained at
age 25. A scholar, he gained a doctorate in canon law and
wrote several texts that are still used in seminaries. For
years, he taught at St. Michael's College at University of
Toronto, retreating to his book-filled room at the St.
Augustine Seminary on Kingston Rd. in Scarborough where he
would plow through dense texts written in Latin.
Even when he left the Franciscan order for the Archdiocese
of Toronto and the university to take up the duties of a
parish priest, his sermons could be somewhat "obscure,"
according to Akermanis.
"His homily used to be like a university lecture, with the
hypothesis or postulus first, then he would develop the
evidence or proof, then the conclusion," he recalled.
Father Andrew was a character, a man who loved to debate -
anything - as well as a man with a sly wit. He'd make a
point of assuming refills were free at the Second Cup, just
to get a reaction from Akermanis, if not from the coffee
shop staff.
But about 20 years ago, he was restless. His brother
remembers being asked to go in as a partner with Father
Andrew to buy a Piper airplane. The priest needed his
brother because his eyesight was limited. He had worn thick
glasses from an early age, so he decided Tony would take the
flying lessons. Tony Cuschieri said he thought about his own
young family and declined.
"He just wanted to go somewhere. He wanted a new challenge,"
he said.
Father Andrew found it when a letter arrived at the
seminary. Written by a nun in Bolivia and addressed to all
the seminarians, it asked for help building a school in
Bolivia.
"My brother was generous but no fool. He wanted to see for
himself," said Tony Cuschieri.
That's when his life changed. He had saved $50,000,
intending it to be the down payment on a retirement cottage.
It went towards the school, Collegio San Lorenzo. Then he
went to Malta to ask his parents for money and to England to
ask for a donation from another brother, Sir Alfred
Cuschieri, one of the pioneers of keyhole surgery.
Tony Cuschieri said he never knew how much money his family
gave his brother "but this may be the reason why the
hospital is known as Cuschieri Hospital."
Certainly, Father Andrew would never have allowed it to be
named after himself.
He gave 90 per cent of his $24,000 annual pension to pay the
staff at the hospital and 100 per cent of any money Tony
gave him at Christmas. Over the years he filled up 10
40-cubic-foot containers packed with medical supplies,
furniture and school supplies that all went to the
Bolivians. He was relentless, a "tormentor," his friends
agree, until he got what he wanted for the Bolivian
villages.
He was so frugal he wrote on used paper. When Ontario was
closing some of its hospitals, he made sure he got some of
the discarded equipment and hospital furnishings. Whenever
he'd receive a commemorative pin or plaque, he'd hand it to
Akermanis with the instructions to "see what you can get for
it" to turn over to the charity.
He hounded Tony to find flutes, clarinets and trombones for
the schools. "Tony," he said to his brother in Maltese,
"they have nothing. M'ghandham vign."
But they now had him. He oversaw the building of the
hospital with its emergency ward, dental and eye care
departments, operating theatre, palliative care and
maternity wards. He set up a hospital board, whose members
he picked carefully. During his final three years, he
instigated and oversaw the building of the churches as well
as the addition to the hospital of a water purification
facility, passive solar heating systems and an incinerator.
A shy man, nevertheless he would not brook shoddy
workmanship nor any unfair business practices.
He was a shrewd negotiator - he deeded the land for the
hospital, schools and churches in perpetuity to the
archdioceses of Cochabamba so it would never be expropriated
and he was a demanding taskmaster. He was also revered in
the four villages.
When he arrived in Bolivia for his twice-a-year month-long
visits, the television cameras would be there. Local
dignitaries filled the airport.
He endured them, along with the pomp and official greeting
ceremonies, because he needed to work with the bureaucracy
to ensure things were done properly.
The two schools operate - smoothly - as primary schools in
the morning and secondary schools in the afternoon. There
are 1,500 students at each. Father Andrew started a
$180-a-year child sponsorship program to assist the poorest
community, administered by the Human Family of Christ.
Although the charity has only about 40 active members, it
has 400 contributors. Few could say no to Father Andrew.
"It was his intensity," said Brian Morrison, who has
sponsored a child for the last six years. He is president of
the Human Family in Christ and his wife heads up the
sponsorship program. Like everyone else with the
organization, they are volunteers.
There's no overhead, but it is a registered charitable
organization, nonetheless. Father Andrew saw it as a way to
encourage donations.
"He must have raised $8 million (in goods), and at least
$247,000 in cash," said Akermanis.
On his deathbed, when a visitor asked if he wanted anything,
Father Andrew laughed. "A blank cheque."
What he got might be the next best thing: the satisfaction
of knowing that what he started will go on without him.