My recent
stay in Diego Garcia, a remote coral atoll in the British Indian
Ocean Territory (BIOT), was both pastoral and unexpectedly adventurous.
Shaped like an open horseshoe enclosing a vast lagoon, the island hosts a major
U.S. military support facility. There is no native civilian population;
instead, the community consists of U.S. Navy and Air Force personnel, civilian
contractors and workers, and BIOT police.
At its height, the Filipino workforce numbered around 2,300. Today, just over 1,000 remain, many serving under major contractors such as KBR. A Filipino chaplain ministers primarily to Catholic workers at the Sacred Heart of Jesus Chapel in Seabreeze Village, where I stayed.
Arrival and Community Life
I arrived
on December 19 to a warm welcome from chapel volunteers. My residence was a
simple standalone house near the chapel. Daily life quickly settled into a
rhythm: morning breakfasts at Seven Degrees South Café downtown, casual meetings with
base officials and Filipino workers, and evening Masses—particularly meaningful as the community had
missed several Simbang Gabi celebrations before my arrival.
Christmas
on the island was deeply moving. The 9:00 p.m. Christmas Eve Mass drew not only
Filipinos but also Kenyan and Indian workers. New Year’s Mass was equally well
attended, followed—as expected in any Filipino gathering—by generous food and
fellowship.
Beyond
the liturgy, the chapel served as a vital anchor for the Catholic community.
There were also Iglesia ni Cristo members with their own chapel nearby and an Hindu temple,
reflecting the religious diversity among the workers.
Despite
its military character, Diego Garcia is strikingly beautiful. I snorkeled at
the Marina and Mariano Beach near the Lourdes Grotto, cycled a 53-kilometer
route to the Plantation gate, and encountered red crabs, coconut crabs, and
even wild donkeys—descendants of animals left behind when the Chagossians were
removed in 1971.
Fishing
in the lagoon was a first for me; I caught a snapper and experienced firsthand
the technique of quick line-jerking at the slightest movement. Many afternoons
were spent biking through shaded trails past radomes, antenna fields, and
remnants of World War II defenses at Cannon Point.
Because
of flight delays—mechanical issues stranded me on the island longer than
planned—I was given rare opportunities to visit restricted facilities.
I toured
the Satellite Control Network (SCN) station operated by the 22nd Space
Operations Squadron (call sign REEF). The facility which controls satellites
circling around the earth, from government, military or commercial is open 24/7
with workers working on shifts. The SCN provides continuous, global
command and tracking services to manage satellite health and position
while ensuring the secure relay of mission data to ground processing centers. I was able to see two of the radomes, one was
said to be the second biggest satellite dish in DG. Then I also toured the GPS ground antenna facility—one of only
four dedicated tracking stations worldwide monitoring the 30 GPS satellites in
orbit. Data from these stations feed into Schriever Space Force Base in
Colorado.
Most
remarkable was visiting one of only three global Ground-Based
Electro-Optical Deep Space Surveillance (GEODSS) sites, alongside those in Socorro,
New Mexico and Maui, Hawaii. Using powerful telescopes, GEODSS tracks
satellites and space debris orbiting thousands of miles above Earth, helping
prevent collisions in an increasingly congested space environment. Its remote
location—with minimal light pollution—makes Diego Garcia ideal for this
mission.
Standing
beneath the massive rotating telescopes, I was struck by the paradox: on a
tiny, isolated atoll, humanity monitors the vastness of space.
Travel to
and from Diego Garcia is never simple. Charter flights transit through the Paya Lebar Airbase in Singapore, and delays are common. I was stranded for an additional week due to
aircraft maintenance issues and base scheduling constraints. Yet even this
inconvenience became providential, allowing deeper engagement with the
community and unprecedented access to facilities rarely seen by visitors.
Diego
Garcia is a place of contrasts: a secluded tropical paradise and a highly
strategic military outpost; a transient workforce community and a deeply rooted
faith life.
What I experienced there was not merely geography or geopolitics, but pastoral presence—celebrating the Eucharist, listening to the stories of overseas workers, sharing meals, biking along long roads under the Indian Ocean sun, snorkeling among vibrant coral reefs and vast numbers of fish, and glimpsing humanity’s watchful eyes turned toward the heavens.
In the middle of the ocean, amid satellites and surveillance systems, the quiet fidelity
of faith continues.
With Ryan Monforte, a chapel volunteer who was my occasional driver.
The front of the Sacred Heart Chapel in Seabreeze.
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