An Interview with Domino Frank, FSJ

by Gordon Nary

Gordon:  Tell us something about your early childhood.

Domino;  Though I was born in Nigeria, I consider myself a citizen of the universe, and I spent my early years immersed in West Africa’s incredible cultural richness. By the time I turned 13, I could speak three languages, and by 21, I had travelled to 14 countries. My mother, a university college teacher, instilled in me a deep respect for learning. But it was under my grandmother’s mango tree, during her quiet mediations, that I first understood what peacebuilding really meant—it starts with listening.

Moving constantly between cultures opened my eyes to both the strength of communities and the shared experience of injustice. Those early experiences shaped one of my core beliefs: real change begins when we honor every voice. My humanitarian journey today builds on those childhood lessons—bridging not just physical divides, but the emotional and spiritual gaps between suffering and hope. Childhood taught me that borders are man-made, but human dignity is not.

Gordon: You have attended several colleges and universities. Please summarize the ones that you attended, primal studies and any degrees or other awards that you received.

Domino: My academic journey has been anything but conventional—each step rooted in a deep sense of purpose:

• Ateneo de Manila University – Diploma in Pastoral Theology & Steward Leadership. This laid the spiritual foundation for much of my work.

• Asian Institute of Pastoral Studies – Certificate in Clinical Pastoral Care, where I learned the healing power of simply being present.

• Ahmadu Bello University – Diploma in Biomedical Engineering. This was really my mother’s dream for me; I never practiced it professionally.

• Chulalongkorn University, Bangkok – Professional Diploma in Conflict Resolution, equipping me with practical peacebuilding tools.

• McGraw University (Online) – B.A. in Sociology, a personal choice to strengthen my humanitarian practice.

• UN Staff College / Fordham University – International Diploma in Humanitarian Assistance, which changed the way I approach crisis work.

• World Peace Academy, Basel – MAS in Peace and Conflict Transformation. I gained more than knowledge here—I also met my life partner.

Gordon: You have volunteered to work on special challenges. Please provide an overview of your volunteer work.

Domino: I’ve always believed in showing up where most wouldn’t dare to go. My volunteer journey has taken me to the edges of conflict and compassion, and every moment has taught me something sacred:

• Leadership with Jesuit Refugee Service (JRS):

  • Liberia (2003–2007): Built JRS operations from scratch in a post-war landscape.

  • Beijing (2003): Operated as an underground Jesuit, quietly recruiting students to study in the Philippines.

  • Central African Republic (2008): As Chef de Mission, I helped launch JRS operations, building 8 schools and training 350 teachers in collaboration with UNHCR in one year.

  • Chad (2009–2011): Designed and ran a Disarmament, Demobilization, and Reintegration program for former child soldiers.

  • Golden Triangle (2010): Disguised as a pseudo sex tourist to help crack down on child traffickers and paedophiles.

• Direct Humanitarian Work:

  • Cambodia (2001): Rehabilitated 5,000+ landmine victims through mobility aids and livelihoods.

  • Philippines- Manila Streets (2000–2003): Developed “edutainment” for 800+ street children.

• Advocacy for the Marginalized:

  • Prison Systems (1996–2000): Worked to transform the lives of 750+ inmates across West Africa.

  • Sahrawi Refugees (2022–2023): Helped secure residency for persecuted families while honouring their culture.

• Crisis Response:

  • Swiss / German Border (2014–2018): Built trauma support systems for 500+ asylum seekers.

  • Afghan Evacuation (2021): Helped coordinate emergency relocations of women activists.

The deeper impact?

These weren’t just "assignments"—they were sacred human encounters that taught me how peace can be forged in the most unlikely places. Like:

• Watching a trembling ex-child soldier use his first carpentry tool.

• The silence of recognition in a prison when someone feels truly seen.

• Sharing bread with people who reminded me: service is just love in action.

Gordon: When and where did you serve as Programe Director at Jesuit Refugee Service and what were your primary responsibilities?

Domino: I served as Programme Director for Jesuit Refugee Service across three crucial missions:

• Chad/Sudan Border (2009–2011):

  • Led a $3.5 million DDR program for nearly 400 former child soldiers.

  • Founded the Centre de Formation in Gereida, offering vocational training in conflict resolution, carpentry, and farming.

  • Partnered with WFP to provide meals for over 5,000 refugees.

• Central African Republic (2008–2009):

  • Travelled through from Abidjan to Bangui by road to launched JRS operations during an active conflict.

  • Built 8 schools and 7 community halls in one year.

  • Trained 350 teachers under UNHCR/UNICEF programs.

  • Advocated for school feeding across 35 local schools.

• Liberia (2004–2007):

  • Pioneered the first post-war recovery program for JRS / Liberia/ Guinea Conakry Border

  • Rebuilt 11 Camp schools and 7 vocational centres in IDP camps.

  • In Collaboration with IOM, accompanied IDPs return, built 5 Community Halls and Chapels in President Helen Sirleaf Village and Region.

  • Introduced night school and teen mother programs, serving over 5,000 Internally Displaced people.

Gordon: Tell us about your work in Nigeria.

Domino: My work in Nigeria touched many spheres—education, prisons, and rural development—all grounded in a belief that dignity and opportunity must be for everyone:

• Education Leadership (2013–2014):

  • As Dean of Students at Loyola Jesuit College, Abuja, I guided over 650 students and built interfaith dialogue programs between Christian and Muslim youth.

• Social Welfare & Prisons (1996–2000):

  • As a pastoral assistant at St. Joseph Jesuit Parish, I supported over 500 prisoners denied fair trials and helped 250 ex-inmates reintegrate into society.

  • I also served as chaplain to a leper colony in Ossiomo-Abudu, Benin.

• Rural Development (2014):

  • In Ebonyi State, I consulted on an Austrian-funded project, promoting sustainable alley farming and connecting 300+ farmers to wider markets via University of Agriculture Makurdi.

• Conflict Mediation (Ongoing):

  • Nigeria's diversity and tensions deeply influenced my peacebuilding philosophy. From the North’s interfaith challenges to youth unemployment, these realities continue to guide my work globally.

Gordon:  Please provides an overview of the current challenges to Catholics in Nigeria.

Domino: Catholics in Nigeria face a mix of persecution, marginalization, and internal strain—but also show powerful signs of resilience and renewal:

• Targeted Violence & Persecution:

  • In the North, Boko Haram and armed bandits have attacked churches—like the 2022 Owo massacre that claimed 40+ lives.

  • Over 30 priests have been kidnapped since 2022, many forcibly converted or killed.

  • In the Middle Belt, religious tensions in farmer-herder conflicts have displaced many Catholic communities.

• Political Marginalization:

  • Catholics face systematic exclusion in Sharia-influenced northern states.

  • Voter suppression and electoral violence, like that seen in Lagos in 2023, threaten representation.

• Economic Hardship:

  • Around 70% of Nigeria’s 35 million Catholics live below the poverty line.

  • Youth emigration is draining the Church of its energy and future leaders.

• Internal Challenges:

  • Ethnic and liturgical divides (e.g., Igbo vs Yoruba practices) threaten unity.

  • The rise of charismatic syncretism blurs doctrine and destabilizes faith communities.

• Yet there is hope:

  • Underground seminaries thrive in places like Kaduna, where 52 priests were ordained in 2023 alone.

  • Interfaith initiatives, like those led by Cardinal John Onaiyekan, offer bridges across divides.

• What’s needed now:

  • International advocacy to spotlight ongoing persecution.

  • Faith-rooted economic empowerment.

  • Community-based security solutions like the Egbela Ocha vigilante network.

This is not just a Catholic struggle—it’s a mirror of Nigeria’s bigger fight for justice, coexistence, and human dignity. When Nigeria get it, other African Nations will clue in.

Gordon:  When and where did you serve as Coordinator Jesuit Social Ministry and what were your primary responsibilities?

Domino: I served as the Coordinator of Jesuit Social Ministry for West Africa from 1996 to 2000. My base was Benin City, Nigeria, but the work took me across Ghana and Liberia—regions wrestling with the aftermath of dictatorships and civil unrest.

But titles didn’t matter much on the ground. Most days, I was just the guy carrying a sack of rice into a prison, or the one holding a sobbing inmate after his HIV test.

Here’s what that time really looked like:

• Prison Work (Benin City, Nigeria): We weren’t just handing out Bibles. We brought Saturday meals, medicine, and literacy classes to over 500 inmates—some of whom couldn’t even write their own names. A few sat for their WAEC exams from behind bars. Some sang—songs they wrote in cells, turning the walls into choirs. In 1998 alone, with the help of volunteer lawyers, we got 87 wrongfully detained people out of prison. Some of them had no idea why they were arrested.

• Faith in a Warzone (Liberia):During Liberia’s civil war, we set up a secret corridor linking churches, mosques, and humanitarian actors. I smuggled Eucharist and antibiotics into Monrovia, hiding them under cassocks. We trained lay catechists to act as grief counselors in villages with more graves than homes. I saw teenagers carrying AK-47s ask for rosaries. We gave them both.

• Justice from Below (Benin City):In Obadolovbiyeyi village, we built the National Infant Jesus Pilgrimage Centre from scratch—bare hands, local clay, and hope. In the slums, we created Christian Lay Communities, zones where disputes between landlords and tenants were settled by retired judges over palm wine—not police. These were our ‘courts of peace.’

• Spirituality as Strategy:I led clergy retreats using St. Ignatius' Spiritual Exercises, not as a ritual—but as a tactical framework. See. Judge. Act. It meant nothing if it didn’t end in action. I wasn’t interested in prayer that didn’t sweat.

• Most of all: That job taught me that social ministry is the point where the crucifix meets the machete—not to glorify suffering, but to dismantle it.

• It wasn’t a job. It was a furnace. And it shaped the rebel peacemaker I became.

Gordon: When and why did you become a Jesuit?.  What were some of the challenges that you addressed while serving as a Jesuit?

Domino: Why I Became a Jesuit (1995). It wasn’t some grand moment of divine revelation. No thunderbolts, no booming voice from the heavens. It was a quiet, persistent fire that started burning within me as a young social worker in Nigeria. After finishing my degree in Sociology and Social Work, I found myself working in communities ravaged by poverty and suffering. One evening, I came across a quote by Martin Luther King Jr. that hit me hard: "If you have nothing to die for, you have nothing to live for." It stayed with me, not in a painful way, but in a way that made something click inside.

The Jesuits felt like the only place where I could bring together my passion for justice, my love for the poor, and my desire for a deeper spiritual life. Mandela showed me that true reconciliation is the strongest form of resistance. Mother Teresa taught me that love, if it’s real, has to be messy and raw—never distant or perfect. And so, in 1995, I joined the Jesuits. Not to find safety, but to be sent. To the margins, to the forgotten, to the places where dignity had been taken and God seemed to be hiding in plain sight.

What Shaped Me: Baptisms by Fire

The Jesuits didn’t hand me a neat guidebook to life. Instead, they gave me a front-row seat to human suffering—and human hope. My secret desire was to be missioned to the war fronts anywhere in the world.

Liberia (2003–2007)I arrived in Liberia from Asia during the height of its brutal civil war, where children had become soldiers, and killing was just a part of everyday life. How do you teach peace to a boy who’s beheaded his own uncle? You don’t. You give him a hammer. I set up carpentry workshops where victims and perpetrators worked side by side. The tools we used became a form of therapy. We started by teaching Child Generals how to play, we even turned confiscated AK-47s into crucifixes. It was redemption made of wood and steel.

Central African Republic (2008–2009)One night, on an assessment of the CAR /Chad border, we were surrounded by rebels—ironically, by one group to protect us from another. That’s the twisted logic of war. But under the shade of a sacred Baobab tree, I invited both sides to sit, dig a hole, and bury their weapons in the earth. That tree still stands today as a quiet symbol of enemies who chose to breathe over bleed.

Manila, Philippines (2000–2003)In overcrowded child detention centers, I saw AIDS patients chained to rusting metal beds. I carried morphine in communion kits, blessing the dying while the guards turned their backs. Some would call that disobedience. I call it pastoral judgement.

Why I Moved On (2011)

My decision to leave the Jesuits wasn’t about losing faith. It was about reconciling the fire burning inside me with the silence I felt within the Church—especially around women’s leadership. I had witnessed Nigerian mothers holding entire communities together, while the Vatican debated whether they could speak from the altar.

So, I did my tertianship BUT I took my own final  vow—though not the one written in Canon Law, but one that still fuels me today:"If your faith doesn’t terrify the powerful, it’s just pageantry."

I still carry the Jesuit DNA—the Magis, the call to always go further, deeper, truer. But now, I live it out through Corridors of Peace, in the dust of forgotten villages, in prisons no one remembers, and in refugee camps where faith still bleeds

Gordon: When after leaving the Jesuits did you serve as Project Director Jesuit Refugee Service, and what did find most rewarding about your work?

Domino: My Journey After the Jesuits – A Seamless Mission

Although I officially stepped away from the Society of Jesus in 2014, the most meaningful part of my Jesuit journey was already unfolding years earlier. From 2008 to 2011, I served as Project Director for Jesuit Refugee Service (JRS) in the Central African Republic and Chad. It was a time of deep conflict, but also a time when grace showed up in the most unexpected ways.

As a vowed Jesuit then, the most sustaining gift I received from the Society wasn’t just a theological insight or a spiritual routine—it was the sacred instinct to “find God in all things.” That compass never left me. In fact, it guided me to establish one of the proudest legacies of my life: Centre de Formation Guereida, a vocational rehabilitation center for former  child soldiers. What began as a humble act of service in my Jesuit years now lives on through Corridors of Peace, the organization I lead today. In 2019, the center was reborn through a Rotary Global Grant—proof that some seeds are strong enough to outgrow even the hands that planted them.

Three Eternal Rewards:

• The Alchemy of Transformation

  I still remember the first intake: boys who once held rocket launchers now holding saws and chisels. Over time, those hands—once instruments of destruction—became hands of creation. The first 193 graduates are scattered across the Sahel today, not as refugees or rebels, but as carpenters, welders, and mechanics. Some still send me pictures of their furniture and ask, “How’s the old center doing, boss?”

• The Ripple Effect What began as a joint project with JRS, UNICEF, and UNHCR didn’t end when the funding cycle did. Under Corridors of Peace, that same center has

• grown into something larger:– A women’s cooperative launched in 2020, now training over 150 survivors of sexual slavery in textile work, market gardening, and income-generating projects.– The only solar-powered vocational center in eastern Chad, thanks to Rotary support between 2020 and 2022.It’s no longer just a center—it’s a movement.

• The Unbroken Circle In 2022, I returned to visit the center and found myself watching one of the original child soldiers—now a proud instructor—welcoming new arrivals using the exact same protocols we designed together in 2010. No manuals, no rehearsals. Just muscle memory. Peace had become a skillset. A language. A habit.

The Deeper Truth

People often ask me, “So what do you do now, since leaving the Jesuits?” And I always smile. Because the truth is: I do exactly what I used to do. I just wear a different jacket now.

That center’s journey taught me that humanitarian work isn’t about ownership. It’s not about brand names or logos. It’s about planting seeds strong enough to outlive the planter. When Rotary funded that grant, they weren’t just funding a project—they were investing in a lineage of redemption, especially for women and girls who had lost everything.

I may no longer be a Jesuit on paper. But in spirit—in mission—I never really left.

Gordon:  When did you serve as Founding Director Dominos Remnant Services (DRS) and what was their mission?

Domino: My First Step Beyond the Jesuits

Leaving the Society of Jesus in 2014 wasn’t a rupture—it was a release. But even before I formally departed, I had already begun testing the waters of independent humanitarian work. In 2011, I launched Dominos Remnant Services (DRS)—a modest, grassroots initiative that was less an organization and more a soul’s experiment. Looking back, I now see it as my chrysalis. The wings would come later.

Mission: Same Heart, New Structure

At its core, DRS carried the same heartbeat that powers Corridors of Peace (COP) today:

• Protecting the abandoned—refugees, ex-combatants, and persecuted minorities forgotten by systems and sealed borders.

• Healing through dignity—because aid without agency is just a softer form of control. We believed in skill-building, in advocacy, in voices rising.

• Bridging divides—faiths, factions, tribes, and the scars of old wars. We didn’t just enter conflict zones; we tried to listen where others preached.

Why It Transitioned to Corridors of Peace

DRS was never meant to be the final form. It was my trial run—noble but unrefined. Three things reshaped it:

• Academic RefinementMy Master’s degree in Peace and Conflict Transformation at the University of Basel turned a spotlight on the gaps DRS couldn’t bridge. It gave me the vocabulary, frameworks, and global lens I needed.

• Strategic EvolutionWith Corridors of Peace, I built upon the best of both worlds: Jesuit resilience and grassroots experience. We integrated Rotary partnerships, adopted UN-aligned standards, and embedded gender-based rehabilitation at the center—lessons born from both JRS and DRS.

• A Name That Could Travel“Remnant” felt noble, but also narrow—as if we were only serving what was left behind. “Corridors” spoke to something broader: a way forward. A network. A space where fractured communities might still meet, reconcile, and rebuild.

Legacy of DRS

DRS was brief, but it mattered. It taught me how to fail with purpose—and rise with precision. Our early pilot projects with displaced youths, local women’s cooperatives, and micro-vocational training proved something vital:

The mission was sound—it was just the structure that needed to grow.

To this day, I carry DRS with me—not as a memory, but as a foundation. It was the awkward first step every meaningful journey requires.

DRS was my chrysalis. Corridors of Peace became the wings.

Gordon: When did you serve as Consultant and Technical Adviser to Hon. Haroun Kabadi of the Transitional Chad ·Government ·and what were

some of the issues that you addressed?

Domino:  Consulting Hope: Designing for the Forgotten Corners

Consultant & Technical Adviser to Hon. Haroun Kabadi  (2022–2023)

In 2022, Corridors of Peace was invited to dream differently—for places most policy maps forgot. As Consultant and Technical Adviser to Hon. Haroun Kabadi, then President of Chad’s Transitional Parliament, I was tasked with one mission: bring sustainable development to the edges—Kyabe and Kanem—where conflict, climate, and poverty collide.

We didn’t arrive with blueprints. We arrived with open ears, worn boots, and the humility to learn from the women who had survived where governments failed.

Key Issues We Tackled

1. Grassroots Infrastructure (From Trauma to Trust)

We mapped over 3,500 women in both regions, many survivors of:

• Boko Haram's shadow in Kanem

• Climate-driven resource wars in Kyabe

• And the grinding grip of chronic poverty

Our response wasn’t concrete and steel—it was wisdom and presence. We proposed mobile counseling units led not by outside experts, but local grandmothers trained in somatic therapy—a healing revolution born from ancestral memory and embodied care.

2. The Sand-to-Soil Revolution

We piloted three techniques to fight desertification—Gabion dams, Zai pits, and half-moon trenches. The results shocked even UN observers:

40% faster land recovery than conventional approaches.

This wasn't just about land. It was about reclaiming dignity—a mother’s right to grow food on her own soil.

3. Shadow Economies into Livelihoods

We documented how illicit gold mining (Kyabe) and smuggling corridors (Kanem), often demonised, could become engines of peace if harnessed properly. Our solution?

• Women-run artisan cooperatives

• Cross-border peace markets—where trade replaces tension, and survival doesn’t mean silence.

The Interrupted Legacy

By late 2023, we’d completed a comprehensive roadmap:

🟢 A 3-year Women’s Resilience Program💰 Budget: $3.7 million

🌍 Vision: from survival to sovereignty

But in January 2024, the journey stalled. Hon. Kabadi fell seriously ill, and with him went the political momentum. Our blueprint gathered dust, but the seeds were already sown—both in hearts and in the sand.

The Living Blueprint

Today, that very framework anchors CoP’s Chad Basin Initiative, a broader movement that refuses to let forgotten regions stay forgotten. We’re still chasing that vision—because the women of Kyabe and Kanem never stopped planting.

“The desert remembers what the palace forgets. Those women still plant seeds in war-scarred soil—our proposal just awaits its season.”

Gordon: You currently serve as International Director, Co Founder Corridors of Peace International, What is your mission and what are some  of the challenges that you are addressing” 

Domino: At Corridors of Peace (CoP), our work lives at the crossroads of humanitarian response, conflict transformation, and grassroots development. But we don’t just respond—we rebuild differently. Everything we do is grounded in three core commitments:

1.  Dignity Over Aid We don’t just deliver relief. We equip displaced and marginalized people to rebuild on their own terms. It's about shifting from handouts to handshakes—restoring agency where systems have stripped it away

2.   Radical Inclusion

We start where others stop. Our programs center people too often written off: former child soldiers, women returning from captivity, stateless nomads, and trauma survivors. If they’ve been excluded, they belong at our table.

3.  Unlikely Bridges

We create shared spaces where former enemies don’t just talk—they build together. Whether it’s herders and farmers co-designing water systems or ex-combatants forging tools, we replace division with co-creation.

Frontline Realities We Confront

1. The “Forgotten” CrisesIn Chad’s Kanem region, over 32,000 women still lack basic access to clean water. International awareness campaigns exist, but the water doesn’t. We build low-cost, community-owned sand dams (around $14,000 each) that outlast aid shipments and reach places UN trucks don’t go.

2. When Policy Fails the People

Demobilization programs often do more harm than good—especially when they reduce ex-combatants to a payout. These cash stipends make them targets, not citizens. Our alternative: vocational cooperatives where former rivals work side by side. In Liberia, ex-warlords now manufacture school furniture together.

3. Geopolitical Deceit

What appears to be religious violence in the Sahel is often about control of gold, diamonds, or more recently, lithium. CoP trains local mediators in resource awareness—so they can see how foreign interests fuel militias and learn to resist co-option.

4. Climate-Driven Conflict

From Nigeria to Chad, desertification fuels disputes over land and water. Herders and farmers clash where there used to be cooperation. We mediate not with peace talks, but with joint infrastructure—shared boreholes, rotating grazing rights, and co-managed gardens.

The Hardest Border to Cross

The divide we face most isn’t between nations, but between categories in donors’ minds: “humanitarian” vs. “development.” Our work refuses that binary. A child soldier doesn’t need just food or training—they need both, plus reconciliation.

We’ve seen it:

• A former rebel sells bread baked from flour milled by his victim’s family.

• A trafficker becomes a peacekeeper in a border market he once exploited.

• Sand turns fertile when enemies dig together.

Beyond Chad: Where This Work Continues

In Switzerland, we’ve partnered with municipalities in three cantons to embed over 300 refugees into local life. Some learned the language through farming apprenticeships with elderly Swiss growers. Others brought their cultures into town halls and festivals—like Sahrawi tea ceremonies alongside alpine yodelers.

In Afghanistan, before the Taliban’s return, we trained local youth in digital peacebuilding through a partnership with ASHNA. After the takeover, we worked quietly to help at-risk activists evacuate through networks of former students.

In places like Guereida, Chad, women who once fought now bake bread for those they once harmed—sharing flour during Ramadan, planting seeds during the rainy season.

This is our measure of peace: not in agreements signed, but in who sits down to share the harvest.

Gordon: What is your favorite book and author and why are they you favorite?

Domino: As a child, I devoured anything printed on paper—except science fiction. My world was too full of urgent, real struggles to escape into dystopian fantasies. Now, the question is: who are my favorite authors? The shelves in my room are more than just storage; they’re battle-tested guides, each one a map through the terrain of human pain and hope.

The Library of a Wounded Healer

My bookshelf is like a field hospital—each author a surgeon, tending to humanity’s fractures. I don’t read to escape reality; I read to better weaponize love against its ruins. My reading life feels like a refugee camp—each writer is a displaced soul, teaching me the grammar of survival.

Here are the voices that whisper through my work:

The Alchemists of Hope: A Peacebuilder’s Literary Compass

• Paulo Coelho – The AlchemistWhy: Coelho’s pilgrim’s journey mirrors our own. What often feels like detours—prisons, war zones—becomes the real treasure.CoP Manifesto: "When refugees walk, they’re not fleeing—they’re following their Personal Legends."

• Ben Okri – The Famished RoadWhy: Okri taught me to see ex-combatants as abiku spirits, endlessly choosing between worlds, never fully here or there.

The Architects of Justice

• John Grisham – The Innocent Man

  Why: Grisham exposed how legal systems weaponize poverty—this book became the backbone of our "Know Your Rights" theater in Nigerian prisons.

• Nelson Mandela – Long Walk to Freedom

  Why: Mandela’s 27 years of negotiation from a cage inform our work mediating between armed groups. His quiet resilience is a blueprint for our conflict resolution efforts.

• Kai Schumann (Tapestry of Time)

• Why: His quantum peacebuilding theory restorative justice—that past/present/future wounds heal simultaneously—validates our:

• Chad grain banks (atonement + nutrition)

• Sahel sand dams (climate repair + trauma therapy)

The Cartographers of Pain

• Uwem Akpan – Say You're One of Them

  
  

  Why: Akpan’s child’s-eye view of genocide birthed our "Trauma Alphabet" pictograms, helping us give form to unspoken suffering.

  
  

  (New York, my Village)—A tribute to the departed four Jesuits.

• Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie – Notes on Grief

  
  

  Why: Adichie shows mourning as active resistance, a lesson that’s become integral to our post-conflict rituals.

My Mystics

• Anthony de Mello – Awareness

  Why: His “wake up!” call fuels our 3 AM mediation teams in conflict zones. 

• Jon Sobrino: His crucified peoples theology lives in our prison ministries

• Walter Ciszek – With God in Russia

  Why: Ciszek proves that faith grows even in frozen soil—like our winter schools in Afghan camps.

  
  

The Unlikely Prophets or The Ancestors

• Achebe's Arrow of God: "When the moon is shining, the cripple becomes hungry for a walk."

• Roy's Capitalism: A Ghost Story

• Arundhati Roy – Her NGO critiques keep us allergic to savior complexes, reminding us to approach our work with humility.: NGO industrial complex as neocolonialism 2.0

• John Paul Lederach  Moral Imagination– He turned our sand dams into spiderweb peace treaties, teaching us that even the smallest projects can weave vast networks of healing.

• Paulo Coelho – Warrior of Light

  His “good fight” ethos guides our young peacebuilders, showing them that strength isn’t about winning, but standing firm in the right cause.

My Living Library

Some of my most treasured texts aren’t written down at all:

• The sound of a child’s bullet-casing flute in Mosul.

• The pause when ex-enemies first share bread.

• The ledger where my grandmother tallied and deleted debts each Easter.

• The scars on a Darfur woman’s back, her map of escape routes.

• The silence between a former warlord’s confession and our shared tea.

I don’t just read books—I autopsy them, searching for still-beating truths to transplant into dying communities. Each story I read isn’t just another escape; it’s a chance to build something real, something that can heal, rebuild, and transform.

Coelho's Santiago and Mandela's cellmate walk together in our work—one chasing dreams, the other forging keys. 

Gordon: Thank you for an exceptional, incisive, and powerful interview.