Wolatemariam: A Quiet Witness to the Risen Lord

Gregory Stephenson pays tribute to a remarkable woman, Wolatemariam, whose life of humility, faith, and service left a profound impact on many within the parish community of Saint Augustine’s Cathedral in Gqeberha.

My wife first noticed Wolatemariam as we walked up the steep steps of St Augustine’s Cathedral — there she was, on her knees, gently feeding a homeless man. That moment spoke louder than any words ever could.

In time, we came to notice her quiet devotion. Each Sunday morning, Wolatemariam would light a candle at the Marian votive candle stand, lingering in stillness, wrapped in prayer. There was something deeply sacred about the way she carried herself. She would cover her hair with a mantilla veil—a headdress that took me back many years, to a time when women reverently covered their heads when attending Mass. It was so beautiful to witness, and she was the only woman in our parish to do so. Her head always covered, her long veils flowing—at first, I thought she belonged to some religious order, perhaps a nun. But as time passed, I came to see in her a reflection of the Blessed Mother, the Virgin Mary, clothed in quiet grace and deep devotion.

From time to time, we would exchange a simple acknowledgment—nothing more than eye contact and a gentle greeting between her, her husband Izak, and us. There was a quiet understanding, a shared reverence. We were fellow parishioners. One in the Spirit. One in Christ.

My wife and i privately rejoiced when we saw that she was expecting. It became part of our own prayer life, lifting her up with gratitude and hope. She was such an inspiration to us, and she never even knew.

Only after her passing did I begin to reflect more deeply on her name—Wolatemariam. Rooted in the ancient Christian heritage of Ethiopia, her name (Wolde Mariam) means “child of Mary.” In the spirituality of the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church and the Ethiopian Catholic tradition, names are more than identifiers—they are declarations of belonging, devotion, and identity.

In conversations with her husband, I learned that one of his favourite hymns is “Here I Am, Lord.” Its refrain—“Is it I, Lord? I have heard You calling in the night… I will go, Lord”—finds a living echo in Wolatemariam’s life. Through quiet acts of love and faithful devotion, her life became a response: “HERE I AM, LORD”.

Her passing in the early hours of Easter Sunday carries a profound resonance. It was women who first encountered the Risen Christ. In a grace-filled way, it seems fitting that one whose life reflected such devotion would be called home on the very day we proclaim the Resurrection.

On the day of her funeral, I arrived at St Augustine’s Cathedral just as the undertakers were bringing her coffin. I stood in silence, respect and deep devotion and watched as they carried her up the same steep steps where my wife had first seen her kneeling, feeding a homeless man. It was a profound privilege to witness—those steps that once bore her humility now bore her in honour. Her life seemed to come full circle, from quiet service to sacred remembrance.

Within the sacred space of the church—within the very place she had made her spiritual home, where she had prayed, interceded, given, and worshipped—the atmosphere was filled with reverence.

The church was filled to the brim, with members of the Ethiopian diaspora alongside fellow parishioners. There was a deep sense of loss, yet also quiet gratitude. For the first time, I witnessed our parish priest visibly moved, his voice breaking. Wolatemariam had touched us all.

In later conversations, I came to understand that Wolatemariam had been a generous donor to the CWL—a further testament to a faith lived not only in prayer, but in giving and in sustaining the life of the Church.

In a world that often overlooks quiet faithfulness, we are reminded that holiness does not always announce itself loudly. Sometimes, it kneels on cement steps. Sometimes, it lights a candle in silence. Sometimes, it simply responds, “HERE I AM, LORD”.

These are the saints among us.

In this month of May, the month of Mary, may we become more attentive to the Wolatemariams in our lives. May we recognise and honour them while they are still among us.

Wolatemariam’s life was a sermon. Her devotion, a witness. Her faith, deeply Marian. Her passing, a call to awaken.

Rest in the peace of the Risen Lord_Wolatemariam.