Dressed in grey trousers, black sandals, and a soft navy-blue sweater, Fr. John Kilcoyne sinks into a couch in a sunlit common space of the SMA Generalate at Nocetta. His posture is relaxed, but his eyes hold the weight of three decades leading missions across Africa—and the quiet significance of the moment. Just weeks earlier, in July 2025, this son of County Mayo farmers was elected Counsellor of the Irish Province, marking a poignant return to the land that first sent him out as a young missionary 50 years ago.

As he leans back, the textures of his journey seem to fill the room: the echo of Liberian gunfire, the taste of Tanzanian chicken-and-rice shared after Mass, the resilient faith of communities from Cape Town to Mwanza. Yet when he speaks of home, his voice softens. He paints a vivid picture of 1960s rural Ireland—a world where the Angelus bell froze farmers mid-furrow, where nightly rosaries outlasted the arrival of television, and where his ordination in 1983 became a village triumph still celebrated in parish magazines four decades later.

“The whole community turned out that day,” he recalls, the memory warming his words. “Many in that photo are gone now… but their pride remains.” That same pride now greets his election in Ireland—a role that deepens the symmetry of his life: the farmer’s son who carried Ireland’s faith to Africa now brings Africa’s lessons home.

Between chapters of leadership—from war-torn Liberia to apartheid’s shadow in South Africa, to nurturing Tanzania’s rising Church—Fr. John’s humanity anchors him: his love for fufu’s fiery pepper soup, his confessed inability to “hammer a nail straight,” his dog-eared history books, and the Gaelic football matches that still quicken his pulse.

In this exclusive interview, the veteran missionary reflects on homecomings both physical and spiritual—and why stepping into Irish leadership feels like closing a sacred circle.

What inspired you to join the priesthood 42 years ago?

“Well, I actually joined the SMA (Society of African Missions) 50 years ago, in 1975. What inspired me were local men who had been missionaries—both SMA, Columbans, and others. Around 1974 and 1975, I attended vocations workshops where I met SMA students and priests. They further inspired me and deepened my interest.

I already had a strong interest in mission work. We used to receive missionary magazines and hear people talk about missions. I would read about Asia, Africa, and different countries around the world. Gradually, I found myself particularly drawn to mission work in Africa.

So, I joined the SMA in 1975 and was ordained in 1983. My first appointment was to Liberia, where I arrived that same year. I stayed there until 1997.

The first seven years were what you might call ‘ordinary’ pastoral ministry, mostly development work among the Bassa people in central Liberia. But from 1990 to 1997, Liberia was torn apart by civil war. During that time, my work shifted to relief efforts. I worked alongside my colleague, Fr. Tony Jennings, and the Consolata Sisters, doing whatever we could to help.

After the war ended in 1997, I was able to go to London for further studies. Then, in July 1999, I was sent to South Africa, where I worked until 2010. I served as Superior there for nine years.

After that, I took a sabbatical year. Then, in February 2012, I arrived in Tanzania, where I have been ever since. I became Vice-Superior in 2014 and Superior in 2019. That is why I was present at the recent General Assembly—as the Superior of the District of Tanzania. And that brings me to where I am today.”

 How has your understanding of vocation evolved over the years?

“Well, the whole SMA has changed drastically since I joined. Back then, it was mainly composed of members from Europe, America, and Canada—the so-called ‘original sending countries.’ But the year I was ordained, in 1983, was also the year the African Districts in Formation (ADFs) and the Indian District in Formation were founded. That marked a major shift.

To give a simple example: when I arrived in Liberia in 1983, I was welcomed by an Irish Superior. But at the 2007 General Assembly, most of the leaders and participants were still from the original sending countries. Now, at the most recent Assembly in 2025, of the 55 participants, only 11 were from the original units—that’s just one-fifth. The other four-fifths came from the newer units in Africa and Asia. That is a dramatic change.

Africa, in particular, has gone from being a continent primarily evangelized by missionaries, to one that still receives missionaries, but also sends missionaries and participates in the re-evangelization of the former sending countries.

For me, mission has always been a reciprocal experience. From the very beginning in Liberia, and later in South Africa and Tanzania, I could never have done my work without the help of local leaders and catechists. I learned at least as much from them—probably more—than they ever learned from me. But I also tried to contribute as much as I could, in line with the charism of our founder, to improve the lives of the people I worked among.

As they say in Kiswahili, mgeni—a visitor or foreigner—cannot truly work in another country without the full cooperation of the local community. I found incredible support from Christians in Liberia, South Africa, and Tanzania. Some people, especially during the war years, acted in unchristian ways, but at the same time, I encountered extraordinary Christians who lived their faith heroically.

Alongside SMA colleagues and members of other congregations like the Sisters of Our Lady of Apostles and the Consolata Sisters, I have always found inspiration and cooperation. For me, vocation has always been about reciprocity.”

Were there any pivotal moments that reaffirmed your calling?

“You see, I am deeply defined by my experience in Liberia, because it really was, to borrow Dickens’ phrase, ‘the best of times and the worst of times.’

It was the best of times because I felt so close to the people there. It was the worst of times because of the war. I witnessed real martyrs—people willing to give up their lives for their faith. Those seven years were extremely difficult, but also profoundly inspirational.

Every place I have served has shaped me in different ways—Liberia, South Africa, and now Tanzania. Each has formed me into who I am today.

Here in Tanzania, I feel no desire to leave. The Church is thriving and very different from the Church back home. Just recently, I spoke with Michael Eligi Kimario, one of our seminarians who was ordained a deacon in Ivory Coast. Several of our students also received the ministries of lector and acolyte in Nairobi. We are growing in Tanzania—not just as the SMA, but as a Church in general.

Tanzania’s Catholic population is about 28% of its 65 million people—that’s a very significant and vibrant Church. It is confident, unafraid to speak out, and full of life.

I feel a great sense of optimism for the Church’s future here. At the end of October this year, I will finish my term as Superior, and a new leadership team—mostly African—will take over. Please God, they will continue this great work.

So yes, I would say there have been pivotal moments throughout my journey, each reaffirming my calling in different ways. But Liberia, with all its trials and inspiration, was perhaps the most defining.”

What would you say were the most challenging and rewarding moments of your ministry, both in Liberia and South Africa?

To be honest with you, I remember in Liberia, going out to the villages and staying overnight. We used the Bassa language, which is a very complicated language. But what I found most rewarding was simply sitting with the people, being with them, and being made to feel a part of their lives.

For example, after celebrating Mass, we would sit together at night, telling and swapping stories in the local language, listening to their songs and music, and sharing in their culture. That sense of belonging and acceptance—of being part of the community—was one of the most rewarding experiences I’ve ever had as a missionary. And I’ve had that experience everywhere I’ve been, to greater or lesser extents, but mostly to a greater extent.

When I look back now, I still cherish those moments. At first, I thought I was going to Africa to evangelize. But in reality, one of the greatest blessings for me has been being accepted by communities and sharing life with them. That was true in Liberia, in South Africa, and also in Tanzania. Each country was different, of course—Liberia was early missionary work, South Africa was pastorally challenging though materially easier, and Tanzania had its own dynamics.

What I recognize most is that mission has a mutuality. We share, we grow together. I received at least as much, and probably more, than I ever gave. Spiritually, those who joined us and were baptized certainly received something special, but I too was enriched. I was only 25 when I first went to Africa. Back then, I imagined I might change the world. Later, I realized it was the world—and the people—I lived with who changed me. I do believe, however, that through the people I worked with, we managed to do some good things over the years.

In Liberia, the greatest challenge was the Civil War. From 1983 to 1990, we had years of growth and expansion, followed by years of watching so much of our work being dismantled. Civil war is something I would never want anyone else to experience. It devastates ordinary, innocent people.

We were displaced at times, though never forced to leave the country. We were hungry before food arrived, though not starving. Still, those years were extremely tough, and you could see the toll it took on us physically. Yet, in the middle of it all, I witnessed extraordinary courage, solidarity, and faith among the people. They helped each other, stood by each other, and even risked their lives for one another—and for us.

That was one of the most intense and inspiring experiences of my life. People held onto their Christian faith, refused to take revenge, and even became martyrs rather than compromise their values. I was only 32 when the war began, but with the support of colleagues on the ground and from home, we managed to endure. Looking back, what remains with me most is the incredible witness of the people.

How did you adapt to different cultures and communities while staying true to your faith?

Everywhere I served, I had to learn the local language and culture. In Liberia, I learned Bassa, which is a tonal language and quite difficult. But it was absolutely necessary—not just for preaching, but for confession, pastoral counseling, and daily life. You cannot rely on translators for such things.

I worked with local people to translate Catholic materials—Mass texts, catechisms, and the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults—into Bassa. That was a major step in making the faith truly rooted in their culture.

In South Africa, I had to learn Setswana. Without it, I would have found it impossible to minister in Rustenburg Diocese, especially as a European in a society still deeply scarred by apartheid. But the people welcomed me warmly, and the language opened doors to genuine acceptance.

In Tanzania, Kiswahili is absolutely essential. It’s the language of the church, the state, parliament, the market, and daily life. You cannot function without it—especially as a priest. Learning Kiswahili also gave me access to the deeper values and worldview of the people, which in turn helped me to adapt and serve more meaningfully.

So, adapting was never just about me—it was made possible by the people themselves, who welcomed me, taught me, and drew me into their culture.

As the outgoing Superior of the District of Tanzania, what accomplishments are you most proud of?

I see it as very much a team effort. I had two outstanding counselors: Fr. James Shimbala, my Vice Superior, who is now moving on to serve as one of the counselors to the new General Council; and Fr. Josephat Nzioka, who served as both counselor and bursar. They were a tremendous support to me.

Together, with our team of about 24 priests, six lay members, two Loreto Sisters from Poland, and a growing number of seminarians, we built a strong pastoral presence. We also established committees for vocations, promotions, and media work. Vocations, in particular, have grown, and we’ve invested much in recruitment and formation.

We transitioned from being a Region to becoming a District, which meant taking full responsibility for every aspect of our Society’s life. That required putting proper structures in place, and I believe we’ve succeeded in laying a solid foundation for the future.

We also built a new formation house, which now hosts our propaedeutic program and language courses. Just recently, our new chapel there—large enough to hold about 200 people—hosted a major gathering of RASMATA (Rafiki wa SMA Tanzania, or “Friends of SMA Tanzania”). It was full, with people coming from different communities, especially from Mwanza. That was a great success and a sign of growth.

So, what I am most proud of is not my own achievement, but what we have accomplished together as a team. We have prepared the way for the next leadership team, which will certainly be African, most likely Tanzanian. I am the last Irish member in Tanzania, so this transition marks a new era. Our greatest accomplishment has been setting a good foundation for the future.

What would you say was the most challenging aspect of your leadership in the past six years?

Change—particularly the change of personnel, I would say. Other units are also evolving, moving from regions to districts, and some have even become provinces. The movement of personnel, I would say, has been the single most challenging factor. The second challenge would be sustainability—trying to become more sustainable amidst financial difficulties. It is not a difficult country to work in, in terms of government support, as I find them very helpful. But in terms of stability—or rather, the lack of stability—the constant movement of members has been a challenge.

How have you seen the community evolve in the years that you have been working in Tanzania?

The biggest movement, in terms of growth and evolution, will really only manifest itself in the next three years. The numbers in formation have increased significantly, and, please God, in the coming years there will be quite a number of new local members. That is a very important step in the development of any unit of the Society. It is one of the biggest changes and the greatest sign of hope.

It is vital that the District of Tanzania, like any other district, has more local members. While, as a missionary unit, we naturally receive members from outside Tanzania, the fact that local vocations are growing rapidly is a strong sign of progress. We are rapidly reaching a point where we could qualify as a province. Of course, financial constraints remain, and it will still take some time before Tanzania becomes fully sustainable or self-sustainable.

Nevertheless, the rapid growth in vocations and the increasing number of people who stay and move forward to become missionary priests is very encouraging. Please God, that will continue. I can foresee Tanzania becoming a province in a few years, especially if our teams, with the support of the people, are able to strengthen sustainability. That, I would say, is the most substantial change.

You just mentioned earlier that this is your last term. What prompted your decision not to run again?

I have been in leadership roles in Africa for a very long time—and I emphasize in Africa. I served on the leadership team with the Superior in Liberia in the 1990s, and even in the late 1980s, I had leadership responsibilities. I was Superior in South Africa for nine years, Superior in Tanzania in 2014, and then again Superior over the last six years.

I have begun to feel, going to meetings, a little bit like the odd one out, so to speak. More importantly, I believe it is time for Tanzania—for an African, and especially a Tanzanian, to take charge of the unit. There are capable young men, now mature enough, who are more than able to do the job.

While I know some people would like me to continue, I feel strongly that I am no longer needed as the next leader of Tanzania. Reading the signs of the times, it is clear to me that leadership should now pass to a local priest. Personally, I would also like to take a bit of a break.

How do you see this transition, both personally and spiritually?

Personally, it will be a huge change. I have never worked at home—I have always worked in Africa. I am not leaving Tanzania permanently, but rather taking a break. I am very happy with the idea that a capable person will be taking over from me. I have no sense of regret about not continuing as leader.

Spiritually, I feel at peace and even joyful that I have helped bring the unit of Tanzania to the point where one of its local priests can become the next leader. That gives me a great sense of confidence and assurance that my team and I have done something meaningful over the past six years.

I feel very positive, very encouraged, and very uplifted by the thought that, please God, we will leave behind a leadership team led by someone from the local community. Of course, they may still be supported by members from newer units, since those of us from the older units are, shall we say, chronologically disadvantaged—we are getting too old for the role.

With the wealth of experience you have, what advice would you give to your successor or to young missionaries stepping into leadership roles?

We often speak about faith, hope, and charity. But I believe a missionary leader needs a fourth quality: patience. Patience with yourself, patience with your leadership team, and patience with the people you serve. Leadership should never be seen as a position of authority, but as a position of service.

If you have that mindset, you can truly help people, because leadership is not about power—it is about enabling others to do their work. That is your mission: to build up the unit, empower its members in their missionary work, and care for their individual needs.

The most important responsibility of a leader is the care of personnel—their physical health, psychological well-being, and being available when they need guidance or support. That, I believe, is at the heart of leadership. So, my advice would be: be patient, be caring, and always be there for your people.

May I add one more point that is very important? From the moment I joined the Society of African Missions in 1975, my local community has supported me tremendously. When I left to join, I had to visit every house in my village to say goodbye, and every family gave me something to wish me well. I have always felt like a missionary sent forth by my own people.

That sense of support has never left me. It has sustained me from my ordination in 1983 until today. Even though many of those who supported me early on have since gone to their eternal reward, my local community continues to be a source of strength.

In addition, the communities I have worked with, especially during difficult times such as the civil war in Liberia, have been profoundly supportive. That solidarity and encouragement have carried me throughout my missionary journey.

Three countries, three different cultures—what would you say are some critical needs or opportunities in the missions that the Church should address?

We need to look at the past, learn from it, build upon it, and move forward with an awareness of what has already happened. The goal is not to repeat the mistakes of the past, but rather to seek renewal. We cannot make everything entirely new, but we can certainly find better ways of doing things.f

I would also emphasize the importance of shared experiences. We have inherited a rich heritage, and as we move into the future, we should carry that with us. One thing that impressed me at the General Assembly was the energy, synergy, sense of purpose, and optimism present there. These qualities are very important and very encouraging. However, it is equally important to build upon the vast heritage that the Society of African Missions (SMA) has developed over the years.

What can the global Church learn from the African Church?

More than the global Church, I would say global society as a whole can learn from Africa. One thing that troubles me about some societies today is the prevailing mindset of individual autonomy— “I want control of my body, I believe I can do everything.” It’s not just my personal opinion; theologians have spoken about this as well, and it even came up during meetings in my own province. Many societies have, in a sense, forgotten God. They care deeply for the body, but they often neglect the soul. African people have not forgotten this balance.

For example, in Tanzania—and indeed across Africa—politicians, whether Christian, Muslim, or even adherents of traditional religions, will always begin by thanking God. In Tanzania, they say “Tumshukuru Mungu”— “Let us thank God”—for life and for everything. That spirit of gratitude is deeply ingrained.

What I have learned, and what we should all learn, is faith. The Church in Africa, and African people in general, have an authentic, living faith. This is something that Europe, the United States, and many other places need to relearn.

Of course, not everyone has lost faith. In my home country, some communities remain strong in belief, and I have personally benefited from their support. But overall, my culture and much of Western Europe has lost that sense of faith. Often, it only resurfaces during times of tragedy.

The African Church teaches us a lesson of sincere belief. Their faith is not casual—it is deep and genuine. When an African person asks for prayers of healing, they truly believe those prayers will help them. That depth of conviction is something we can and must learn from Africa.

Ultimately, the greatest lesson is this: we cannot live meaningful lives on our own. We must recognize our dependence on God and rediscover Him.

Looking back, what would you say has been your greatest lesson from missionary life?

To be honest, I would say humility. I have come to realize that I could have achieved very little without the support of those I worked with. That includes my family, my home community, the Church that nurtured me, and the many communities I have had the privilege of serving.

Humility means recognizing that achievement is never about “I”—it is about “we.” It is about community. That has been one of my greatest lessons.

Of course, there have been difficult times—moments of great challenge and even suffering. But there have also been many high points, and I prefer to dwell on those. Through it all, I have learned to deeply respect the people I worked with, the communities that welcomed me, and the benefactors who supported our mission.

As missionaries, we achieve nothing on our own. First and foremost, we need God. We also need spiritual and material support from those who send us and from those to whom we are sent. Time and again, this truth has been impressed upon me: without God, and without others, we can achieve nothing.

You’ve just mentioned the importance of other people in your mission. What would you say is the role of lay people in your missionary life?

The role of lay people is absolutely essential, and it always has been. From the very beginning of my missionary work in Buchanan in 1984, I felt the need to collaborate closely with the local community, especially the Catechists. They played an enormous role.

In any parish or mission, priests are few, but we are surrounded by laity. We must work with them, rely on them, and support one another. Parish priests, for example, depend greatly on pastoral councils and local leadership.

In the Society of African Missions, especially within leadership teams, close relationships with lay people are indispensable. Their assistance is pivotal.

The role of lay missionaries is equally significant. Over the years, I have worked with many lay missionaries, mostly from our sending units. At present, we have six serving in the District of Tanzania—five from Poland and one from the Netherlands. Their contribution has been invaluable.

So whether at the level of Catechists, faith community leaders, or lay missionaries, the laity are vital to our mission. Without them, we could achieve very little indeed.

If you could speak to your younger self at the beginning of your priesthood, what would you say?

I would remind myself that I am not superior to anyone. Respect the people you work with. Be patient with them.

I would also stress the importance of growing gradually into the society you have come to serve—learning the language, understanding the culture, and immersing yourself in the spirituality of the people. Mission is not about imposing yourself but about walking together.

And I would remind myself that the Africa of 1983 is not the Africa of 2025. Times change, societies evolve, and the missionary must learn and grow alongside the people. Many of the churches we encounter today are already very developed. Our role is to support, accompany, and expand—not to start from scratch.

So I would tell my younger self: learn with the people you serve.

What is one thing you would have loved to say in this interview?

Honestly, you have asked me almost everything. But I would like to express my deepest gratitude to all those who have supported me throughout the years—my home community, the countries I have lived and worked in, and especially the people of Tanzania during my six years as leader.

Of course, there were occasional challenges—that is only natural—but overall, it has been a profoundly positive experience for me.

I wish God’s blessings upon the next leadership team in Tanzania, and upon the newly elected General Team of the Society of African Missions, as they undertake the challenging task of leading our Society worldwide. It has been an honor to take part in the General Assembly of 2025.

As our conversation draws to an end, Fr. John’s words return to the quiet strength that has guided his life: mission is never about one individual, but about God, community, and the people who walk beside us. From the furrowed fields of Mayo to the vibrant faith of African villages, his journey reflects a life of gratitude, perseverance, and relationships woven through prayer and shared trust. Now stepping away from leadership in Tanzania, he takes up a new role as Counselor in the Irish Province, bringing with him the wisdom of decades spent learning that mission is never an “I” but always a “we.” “It would be nice,” he says simply, “to believe that I have helped somebody.”

By Dominic Wabwireh