Off the coast of Darwin on the remote Tiwi Islands, Record journalist Mark Reidy met with Vietnamese-born priest Peter Nguyen who, against all odds, joined the priesthood to fight the forces of secularism.
Beating a crocodile on the head that dares disturb his day off or slicing a python with a machete pale in comparison to the sacrifices Bathurst Island priest Father Peter Nguyen has made for his faith.
Twice incarcerated in refugee camps and jailed for pursuing the priesthood, there was more to this softly spoken Vietnamese-born priest than I initially thought.
When he first picked me up in the sweltering conditions of the northern wet season, I learned Fr Peter does not use the air-conditioning in his car, nor at his humble presbytery.
This 61-year-old man has had to adapt to change and overcome challenges all his life and his five year stint on the Tiwi Islands, 80km north of Darwin, has been no exception.
With the generous permission of Darwin Bishop Eugene Hurley, I shadowed the energetic, humble priest who is the latest link in the chain of Missionaries of the Sacred Heart which dates back to 1911 when Frenchman Fr Francis Gsell first arrived.
From our first stop at the open church in the main street of Wurrumiyanga, the largest settlement on Bathurst Island, the challenges of this once thriving Aboriginal mission become apparent.
While Fr Peter points out the latest broken windows – the latest slingshot victims – he is approached by a young couple wanting to baptise their four-year-old child.
Adopting a tactic of firm diplomacy, Fr Peter explains to the parents that it is important for them to see him beforehand so he can explain the significance of the choice they are making.
The challenges faced by most priests across the globe of drawing people into the Church without compromising the fullness of the Sacraments is particularly challenging for Fr Peter.
He explains to me the Tiwi Islanders have only just begun to feel the impact of secularisation, as both the Church and the Aboriginal culture attempt to compete with the distractions of modern technology and the devastating repercussions of alcohol and drug abuse.
For a priest who did not arrive in Australia until he was almost thirty, with little understanding of the language or culture, it is a fascinating journey from a village in northern Vietnam to the isolated Aboriginal community of the Tiwi Islands.
Four years after he was born in 1950, Fr Peter’s family fled from the grasp of the Communist regime to southern Vietnam along with one million others, mostly Catholic.
Having already lost his father, the Nguyen family lived in a refugee camp near Saigon, now Ho Chi Minh City, for several years before moving to Vungtau from 1956-63 in what Fr Peter describes as the “golden times”.
The family’s peaceful existence, however, was disturbed by the eruption of north/south hostilities and the entry of US forces.
Amid the lingering presence of war, Fr Peter was able to complete and pass his secondary education – a fail would have resulted in him having to join the army.
He deferred from university for a year and spent that time working with an isolated tribe of nomadic hunters, “High Mountain People”, which sparked his passion for missionary work and ultimately led to becoming a missionary priest.
He began his studies as a seminarian in 1971; however, by 1975, Communism had taken hold and the seminary was forced to close.
Fr Peter discovered a clandestine seminary still operating in Saigon and was able to continue his studies there for three years until the illicit operation was discovered in 1978.
He was sent to a prison to be “re-educated” by communist hardliners.
For the first six months he lived in a crowded shed, three by four metres, with 60 other men.
He was only allowed to leave the confines for 30 minutes each day for stretching and to use the toilet. It was during these breaks, squatting side by side, that the two priests present would hear confessions.
“It was a very brutal time,” Fr Peter recalled as he gazed into the distance. “I do not really like to talk too much about it.”
In 1979, Fr Peter was released but was told he could not become a priest and could only live with his mother if he was going to marry.
Fr Peter remained in contact with the local Bishop through the “Veronicas” – women who took great risks in running messages between bishops, seminarians and priests.
His bishop told him to make a five-year commitment as a single man and then to reassess his position after this time.
Father Peter began living as a lay person, taking whatever job he could before deciding he could not delay his calling any longer.
He left for Indonesia in 1979 where he spent a year in a refugee camp before accepting a place in Australia.
He found himself in Melbourne and eventually at the Missionary of the Sacred Heart parish in Croydon.
With his past studies in Vietnam not recognised, Fr Peter was sent to Sydney from 1981–1989 to repeat his priestly training.
Finally ordained in 1989, he returned to Melbourne and pleaded with his superiors to allow him to move north and work as a missionary.
Instead, he spent the next four years in Melbourne and Adelaide before his superior relented and relocated him to Daly River, a small Aboriginal community 200km south of Darwin.
For 10 years, Fr Peter developed an understanding of Aboriginal tradition and culture and gained an insight into the social struggles of the community.
It was here he honed his “Crocodile Dundee” skills.
During my stay, I witnessed him use a machete to cut off the head of a snake he discovered outside his bedroom door.
He later described how he would smash the head of any crocodile which attempted to steal his barracuda when he went fishing on his day off.
In 2003, Fr Peter took a break from the harshness of the Australian outback and spent time at an overseas mission before returning to the Darwin diocese in 2007 where he located to the Tiwi Islands.
From his experience in Daly River, he was well aware of the challenges before him; however, he was also aware of the struggles of the New Guinean priest who preceded him.
“I knew when I first joined the Missionaries that you can never let your brother struggle.”
Despite the difficulties he has experienced during his time on the island, with the spiritual, cultural and social demise triggered by the recent invasion of secular influences, Fr Peter is adamant the deeply embedded influence of Catholicism on the islands has made it one of the Church’s most successful missions in Australia.
Before the influx of welfare, alcohol, drugs and social media, at its peak there were three priests, four brothers and eight sisters living amongst the community.
Fr Peter believes that the impact of his predecessors is still strongly alive today.
The time I spent with older female locals confirmed the positive influence received through the spiritual and educational influences of past missionaries.
These women make up the majority of the 60 or so parishioners attending weekly Mass and lament the falling away from the Church of the younger generations.
Similarly, Fr Peter lives in a different reality from those religious who have gone before him.
He lives alone in his presbytery, with only his radio and his chihuahua, “Trouble” to keep him company.
He does all his own cooking and maintenance and has to rely on support from the Diocese to supplement the $20 – $25 he receives in the collection plate each week.
But this does not discourage him in any way.
Despite the challenges and hurdles provided by his isolated and often lonely existence, Fr Peter remains positive and joyous.
He celebrates Mass at the local retirement village each week, as well as daily Mass, even if there is only one other in attendance.
On Sunday, I accompanied him to a smaller settlement on the other side of the island, a 150km round trip on a bumpy unpaved road – a commitment he fulfils every fortnight.
He is a man convinced that the presence of Christ he carries is the most important gift he can offer to the Aboriginal people.
He recalls how, during his pastoral training in Sydney, he developed his patience as well as his trust in God.
“There was an Aboriginal family I was asked to visit in Redfern,” he said.
“Each week, I would go to their house and knock on the door – I could hear them inside but they would never answer, so I would sit on their porch for an hour and then leave. I did this for three months before they finally opened up and invited me in”.
It is an understanding he has taken with him ever since. “I realised that my presence in their lives was important, even if I didn’t say anything.”
As long as there are men and women of the virtue and character of Fr Peter, willing to carry the light of Christ to the furtherest corners of the globe, the darkness of this world shall never overcome.