In a quiet African village in Kenya, as the sun dipped below the horizon, the community gathered around the evening fire. An elder spoke, his voice calm but filled with the wisdom of many generations. He told a familiar tale, the story of the hunter and the lion.
In the story, the hunter always returned triumphant, recounting his cleverness, strength, and courage. The villagers listened, admiring his bravery. The lion, in contrast, was always shown as defeated, reduced to a dangerous animal that had been conquered. The elder paused, letting the silence linger, and spoke softly:
“Until the lion learns to write, every story will glorify the hunter.”
Dada, a young woman near the fire, looked up. She had heard this proverb before, but tonight it struck her in a new way. Her thoughts turned to her own life her children, her community, and her journey. She remembered the women and girls she had met, displaced by violence, silenced by injustice, or exploited. She remembered herself a survivor of human trafficking and gender-based violence. How many stories had been told about people like her, yet never by them? How many voices had been ignored? A quiet stirring rose within her a sense that the story was far from over.
Days later, during Easter, Dada sat in church as the readings were proclaimed. One passage struck her deeply. From the Gospel of John (11:25), Jesus said:
“I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, even though he dies, will live.”
The words settled into her spirit. They were more than a promise of life after death—they spoke of a life that begins now, a life rising from silence, fear, and hopelessness. For Dada, they opened a new horizon: a life not defined by past pain, a voice that could finally be heard, and hope that could be reclaimed.
As the service continued, she began to see the story more clearly. The tale of the lion and the hunter was not just a proverb—it lived in history, in faith, and in the world around her. On Good Friday, Jesus had been silenced, judged, and executed. Those who believed they controlled the story—the hunters—thought they had the final word.
Yet Easter morning revealed the truth. The tomb was empty. The one who had been rejected was alive. The Lion had spoken, not in vengeance, but through life. Not through domination, but through truth. God’s resurrection rewrote the story, showing that death, injustice, and oppression do not have the final word.
A new conviction stirred in Dada. Easter was not just an event from the past—it was happening now. It was a call to rise, to speak, to live fully.
Soon, she encountered the Pan-African Catholic Theology and Pastoral Network (PACTPAN). What seemed like an ordinary organization revealed itself as a place where voices like hers mattered. African theologians and grassroots pastoral agents were sharing their experiences, reflecting, and being heard. Faith was alive, expressed in research, storytelling, and lived experience. Slowly, Dada realized: the lion was learning to write not just through words, but through lives renewed by hope.
One evening, returning to the fire where the elders had once spoken, Dada listened to the story of the hunter and the lion with new eyes. She no longer saw only the hunter’s triumphs. She saw the lion’s courage, its struggle, and its dignity.
A profound truth dawned on her: the lion was already writing not just with pen, but through bravery. Not only in stories, but through lives transformed women, children, migrants, and refugees rising from fear into freedom.
In that moment, scripture came alive in a fresh way:
“I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, even though he dies, will live.”
Dada understood that resurrection was not only about Jesus it was about all of us being made alive. The lion had spoken, and through PACTPAN, it continues to write its story. What was once a tale of defeat has become a story of life, hope, and grace. We believe Jesus died and rose again, and in that promise lies the ultimate hope—the eternal story where life triumphs and Jesus reigns forever