By Joseph Tek Choon Yee
A providential encounter: How we came to know Fr Albert
Recently my family hosted Fr Albert Musinguzi, a priest from Uganda who was on his sabbatical after completed his Licentiate in Sacred Liturgy at Sant’Anselmo in Rome.
Mary and I first met him in Rome during our family’s Jubilee Year pilgrimage – a chance encounter that felt divinely timed. (https://www.theborneopost. com/2025/06/07/a-familys-jubilee-pilgrimage-to rome/)
It was the day we came to bid farewell to Pope Francis. The Roman sun blazed mercilessly as we queued at St Peter’s for hours. Some pilgrims fainted but under it all ran a quiet resolve – reverence and a deep desire to honour the Holy Father.
Then came a stranger, Fr Albert, a cheerful, outgoing Ugandan priest. I offered to take his photo, he took ours, and then one together. We exchanged contacts. A simple gesture or so we thought. Strangely, we kept crossing paths all day, like a thread of grace woven into the crowd.
After four hours, we finally entered St Peter’s Basilica. But inside, something unexpected happened my wife and I got separated. Her phone was dead, mine almost so, our kids were waiting and our flight loomed. It was a moment of real panic in the grandeur of that sacred space. I searched every corridor, calling her name softly, worry mounting with each passing minute.
Then grace appeared, quite literally, in a clerical collar. “Mary is with me,” Fr Albert said calmly as he called me on the phone. He had found her near the entrance and stayed with her until we reunited. It wasn’t coincidence, it was divine choreography. In that moment, Fr Albert became more than a kind stranger. He was our angel in Roman heat.
We returned to Sabah, grateful and moved. That memory lingered. Then came a gentle prompting: what if we invited him here? He was to be on sabbatical before returning to Uganda, having just completed his Licentiate. His thesis? A Liturgical Hermeneutical Study of the Divine-Human Exchange in the Three Proper Prayers of the Mass for the Memoria of St Charles Lwanga and Companions. Yes, a theological mouthful. I needed a drink just reading the title!
We decided to sponsor Fr Albert’s first-ever trip to Asia, Malaysia and specifically, Sabah, as a humble gesture of thanksgiving. We had no itinerary, just faith that it would be a blessing to him, to us, and to all he would meet.
And God, as always, did the planning.
What unfolded wasn’t a holiday, but a deeply pilgrimage for all. Fr Albert arrived on Jul 2, 2025, and so began a journey of faith, friendship and quiet grace – of a Ugandan collar making sandalprints in the tropics of Sabah. Heartbeat of Catholic Priesthood
Before I continue sharing about Fr Albert’s sabbatical journey, I feel drawn to pause and reflect on something deeper. Hosting him didn’t just open our doors – it opened my eyes and heart to the quiet beauty, and often invisible burdens, of Catholic priesthood.
It reminded me that priests are not just spiritual leaders at the altar; they are profoundly human. They laugh, they ache, they grow weary and they carry silent loads that few ever notice. Behind the collar is a heart that feels, a soul that serves and a person in need of grace, just like the rest of us.
Catholic priests are shepherds of souls, living witnesses of God’s love in our midst. What sets them apart is not only what they do, but who they are: men who have said “yes” to God by letting go of worldly ambition, comfort and even family life to serve others with obedience and humility. Often far from home, they walk with us through life’s most sacred moments, baptisms, weddings, funerals, what I like to call “Hatch, Match and Despatch.”
But their vocation shines brightest in the ordinary: preaching faithfully, praying silently, listening patiently, walking with the lost and broken-hearted. They don’t just represent the Church, they embody Christ’s presence in a restless, weary world. They are called “Father” not out of formality, but out of deep relationship.
During Fr Albert’s time in Sabah, I saw him living this out with joy and authenticity. Whether blessing homes, praying with families or sharing stories over meals, he brought more than knowledge, he brought presence.
Yet, the sobering truth remains: our priests are stretched thin. In Fr Albert’s Archdiocese of Mbarara, Uganda, over 300 priests serve 500,000 Catholics. In Sabah, just 44 priests serve nearly 250,000 faithful, a staggering ratio of 1:5700. And still, they carry on: pastor, counsellor, administrator, spiritual father, all in one. We must never forget that behind the collar is a human heart. Priests feel, suffer and yes, sometimes break.
The recent tragic suicide of Fr Matteo Balzano, a 35-year-old Italian priest, is a sobering reminder of the emotional weight our clergy often carry in silence. As Fr Omar Buenaventura of Peru wrote so movingly, “Inside every priest there is a human heart. Yes, God is our strength. But we are made of flesh and blood.”
Behind every Mass, confession and quiet counsel is a man who also weeps, doubts and tires. Their cassocks may hide wounds no one sees, loneliness, fatigue, spiritual dryness, the aching weight of carrying many, while often having few to carry them.
We hear of the sad realities in parts of Europe where, after Mass, parishioners walk away to their busy schedules, no fellowship, no warmth. Priests, alone in echoing churches, sweep the floors, cook their own meals, and carry burdens that were never meant to be shouldered alone. It is heartbreaking. This is not how it should be.
So how should we respond?
Get your copy of Catholic Sabah for the coming issue and catch the Part Two of the story.
