Jorge Mario Bergoglio may not ring a bell to you but Pope Francis will.
One of the books I consumed in March was HOPE –
The autobiography of #PopeFrancis whose name I found out was #JorgeMarioBergoglio
The book began with how Jorge was almost not born.
In 1927 his Italian father, Mario Bergoglio and grandparents, while escaping from the fascist dictator #Mussolini, joined the mass exodus and planned emigrating from Italy to Argentina aboard a transatlantic vessel.
Unfortunately, they were not able to sell off their possessions in time so they missed the trip.
That ship capsized, taking 314 passengers with it.
Four years later, the Bergoglio family made that trip. And that was how Jorge came to be born in Argentina.
As a non-catholic who knows next to nothing about him, I found the book very educative as it delved much into his poor immigrant background and rich diverse multicultural community of other immigrants.
I found out he was a #Jesuits and eventually an activist.
I learnt about the #desaparecidos women movement and the famous protest march to Madres de la Plaza de Máyo, Argentina in 1977.
Mothers who stood up against the military dictatorship and demanded to know the whereabouts of their disappeared family members (March was Women’s month, remember?)
Another story which stood out for me was how Jorge had befriended a very notorious neighbourhood prostitute.
Later, as Pope, he kept in touch as she wrote him steadily. He would later perform her burial rites ensuring a prostitute got a decent funeral.
The book trailed his story from Argentina to the Vatican. Describing the process of electing a new pope and that famous white smoke which I recall witnessing for the first time, back when Nigerians were eagerly hoping #cardinalarinze got elected as Pope.
Then this morning as I see notice of his death, I can only think of the next few days and the frenzy as we await that white smoke and the emergence at the balcony.
Adieu Jorge Mario Bergoglio.
