Some of the most memorable journeys are the ones we never plan.
My visit
to Diego Garcia came about entirely by surprise. While we were having lunch at
the CBCP Secretariat one December afternoon, someone mentioned that the
Episcopal Commission on Migrants and Itinerant People (ECMI) was urgently
looking for a priest who could celebrate the Simbang Gabi Masses and minister
to the Catholic community on Diego Garcia from Christmas until the New Year.
For several months, the island had been without a resident priest.
The
moment I heard about the need, I immediately volunteered. I was then informed
that I would have to leave the very next day, December 16. Since I was already
scheduled to celebrate a Simbang Gabi Mass that evening, I asked if I could
depart the following day instead. Thankfully, that posed no difficulty, and my
departure was moved to December 17.
My
journey first took me to Singapore. From there, I was to board a special
chartered flight to Diego Garcia departing from Paya Lebar Air Base. I soon
learned that the island is served by only two flights each week—on Tuesdays and
Thursdays—making travel to this remote destination highly dependent on military
logistics.
An
unexpected twist awaited me in Singapore. Upon arrival, I was informed that the
Thursday flight had been postponed because the aircraft required replacement
parts that had to be flown in from the United States. What initially seemed
like an inconvenience became an unexpected blessing, giving me almost two full
days to revisit and explore one of Asia's most vibrant cities before continuing
my journey.
My stay
in Diego Garcia, a remote coral atoll in the British Indian Ocean Territory
(BIOT), proved to be both pastorally fulfilling and unexpectedly adventurous.
Shaped like an open horseshoe enclosing a vast turquoise lagoon, the island is
home to a major United States military support facility. There is no native
civilian population. Instead, its small community is composed of U.S. Navy and
Air Force personnel, civilian contractors from various countries, and members
of the British Indian Ocean Territory Police.
At its
peak, the Filipino civilian workforce numbered around 2,300. Today, just over
1,000 remain, many employed by major contractors such as KBR. A Filipino
chaplain ordinarily ministers to the Catholic workers at the Sacred Heart of
Jesus Chapel in Seabreeze Village, where I also stayed during my visit.
For the
Christmas season, however, my mission was not to discover an isolated military
outpost but to bring the Eucharist and the joy of Christmas to Catholics living
and working thousands of miles away from their families. What began as an
unexpected request over lunch at the CBCP Secretariat became one of the most
unique Christmas experiences of my priestly ministry.
Arrival and Community Life
I finally
arrived on December 19 and was warmly welcomed by the chapel volunteers. My
residence was a simple standalone house beside the Sacred Heart of Jesus
Chapel, and before long I had settled into the quiet rhythm of island life. For
my transportation around the island, I was issued a pickup truck, which proved
especially useful for the daily drive to the downtown area, about four
kilometers away, where I usually took my meals and attended to other errands.
Mornings
often began with breakfast at Seven Degrees South Café in the downtown area,
followed by visits with base officials and Filipino workers. Evenings were
devoted to celebrating Mass, especially the Simbang Gabi novena, which became
particularly meaningful since the community had missed several of the earlier
novena Masses before my arrival.
Christmas on the island was deeply moving. The Christmas Eve Mass at 9:00 p.m. brought together not only Filipinos but also Kenyan and Indian workers. The New Year's Mass was equally well attended, followed—as one would expect in any Filipino community—by a generous meal and joyful fellowship.
Beyond
serving as a place of worship, the Sacred Heart of Jesus Chapel was clearly the
spiritual heart of the Catholic community. Nearby stood a chapel for members of
the Iglesia ni Cristo and a Hindu temple, reflecting the rich religious
diversity among the island's multinational workforce.
Exploring the Island
Despite
its military character, Diego Garcia is remarkably beautiful. Crystal-clear
waters, white sandy beaches, and lush tropical vegetation create an environment
more reminiscent of a secluded paradise than a strategic military installation.
I enjoyed
snorkeling at the Marina and at Mariano Beach near the Lourdes Grotto, where
vibrant coral reefs teemed with marine life. I also cycled approximately 53
kilometers to the Plantation Gate, passing stretches of pristine coastline and
encountering red crabs, giant coconut crabs, and even wild donkeys—descendants
of animals left behind after the Chagossian inhabitants were forcibly removed
from the island in the early 1970s.
Fishing
in the lagoon was another first for me. I caught a snapper and quickly learned
the technique of giving the fishing line a sharp jerk at the slightest tug.
Many afternoons were spent cycling through shaded roads lined with towering
coconut trees, passing radomes, communications antennae, and the remains of
World War II defensive positions at Cannon Point.
A Rare Glimpse into Strategic
Operations
Because
of continuing aircraft maintenance issues, my return flight was delayed,
leaving me stranded on the island for an additional week. What might have been
frustrating turned into an extraordinary opportunity, as I was invited to visit
several facilities that are rarely accessible to visitors.
One of the highlights was touring
the Satellite Control Network (SCN) station operated by the United States Space
Force's 22nd Space Operations Squadron, known by the call sign
"REEF." Operating around the clock, the facility commands and monitors
government, military, and commercial satellites orbiting the Earth. Its
personnel work in continuous shifts to ensure satellite health, maintain
orbital positioning, and securely relay mission data to processing centers
around the world.
I also
had the opportunity to visit two of the station's enormous radomes, one of
which houses what I was told is the second-largest satellite dish on Diego
Garcia.
Equally
fascinating was the GPS ground antenna facility, one of only four dedicated
monitoring stations worldwide that continuously track the constellation of 30
GPS satellites. Data gathered there are transmitted to Schriever Space Force
Base in Colorado, helping maintain the accuracy of the Global Positioning
System used throughout the world.
Perhaps
the most remarkable visit was to one of only three Ground-Based Electro-Optical
Deep Space Surveillance (GEODSS) sites in existence, the other two being
located in Socorro, New Mexico, and Maui, Hawaii. Using powerful optical
telescopes, the GEODSS system tracks satellites and space debris orbiting
thousands of miles above the Earth, helping prevent collisions in an
increasingly crowded orbital environment. Diego Garcia's remote location, with
its exceptionally dark skies and minimal light pollution, makes it an ideal
site for this mission.
Standing
beneath the enormous rotating telescopes, I found myself reflecting on the
irony of the place. On one of the world's smallest and most isolated inhabited
atolls, humanity keeps watch over the immensity of outer space.
Final Reflections
Diego
Garcia is a land of striking contrasts. It is at once a secluded tropical
paradise and one of the world's most strategically important military outposts;
a place where people come only temporarily, yet where a vibrant faith community
has quietly taken root.
What I
encountered there was far more than fascinating geography or military history.
I experienced the enduring ministry of pastoral presence—celebrating the
Eucharist, listening to the stories of overseas Filipino workers, sharing meals
with them, cycling beneath the Indian Ocean sun, snorkeling among colorful
coral reefs and schools of tropical fish, and standing beneath giant telescopes
that gaze into the farthest reaches of space.
In the
middle of the Indian Ocean, amid satellites, surveillance systems, and
sophisticated technology, the quiet fidelity of faith continues to flourish.
That, perhaps more than anything else, is what made this unexpected Christmas
mission so unforgettable.
With Ryan Monforte, a chapel volunteer who was my occasional driver.
The front of the Sacred Heart Chapel in Seabreeze.
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