When a letter bomb was delivered to Father Michael Lapsley's house, it triggered a lifetime of healing.
Twenty-five years ago, Father Michael Lapsley's life changed irreparably while living in Harare, Zimbabwe.
Sitting down in his living room to catch up on correspondence he noticed he had been sent two religious magazines - nothing out of the ordinary.
One was in Afrikaans, and the other in English. As he opened the English one they both exploded.
Hands burning and unable to see or hear, he was thrown backwards, screaming and experiencing a pain he didn't think was possible. Then he was plunged into darkness.
His hands were destroyed, he lost an eye, and his ear drums were shattered, but it wasn't until he arrived at hospital that he realised the extent of his injuries and what it would mean for him. "I had accepted that I may die because of the side I had chosen, but not that I would have a major disability," he says. "There was a short time when I wished I was dead, I had never met somebody else who had no hands so I did not think I would be able to live an active life again."
Father Lapsley as a child in New Zealand
But as he began to physically heal he drew strength from those around him. "For me it was prayer, love and support from across the world that helped me to make good out of evil."
The "evil" he describes is not only the act of those who sent the letter bomb, but their reasons for doing it. Although never confirmed, Father Lapsley is sure it was sent from people working for the Apartheid regime. He had been speaking out in support of the African National Congress (ANC), and his visa had been withdrawn, forcing him to leave South Africa in 1976.
As a lifelong pacifist it had taken a great deal of time and thought before siding with the ANC and their use of arms. But when people were killed in the Soweto Uprising of 1976, Father Lapsley's theological and moral views of what is right and wrong were challenged to such an extent that he gave up his pacifism to lend them his support.
"I decided that in this context, as a last resort, people do have a right to defend themselves with weapons," he says.
Father Lapsley with Nelson Mandela shortly after his release
After his expulsion he travelled widely, spreading the ANC message, until he reached Zimbabwe, where he was staying when he received the letter bomb.
Twenty-five years on he likens losing a limb to losing a loved one. "If somebody close to you dies", he says, "grief will be a part of the rest of your life. It might not mean you are necessarily overwhelmed or consumed by grief, but it is a dimension of who you are."
He goes about his day-to-day activities fairly easily, using hook prosthetics that have become a part of his identity. "Twenty-five years ago there were only two options for prosthetics," he explains, "the hooks or the more lifelike arms, which are less practical. So I went for the hooks."
When it comes to accepting what happened, he credits a strong belief in God, which allowed him to forgive his attackers, whoever they may be.
"If I ever met them I would ask: What do you do now? Do you still make letter bombs? If the answer is no, and in fact I help out at the hospital, or I do something to benefit others, then I happily forgive them."
He believes in restorative justice for all, and is quite happy to see his attackers go unpunished.
It is for this reason that he now travels around the world, visiting people who have been left disabled, scarred or suffering mentally by oppressive regimes. He holds seminars and group sessions where he tells his own story, and encourages others to do the same. He believes by talking about a traumatic event, it can heal the person suffering.
"When people tell their stories, and when they are heard and acknowledged in an open space, that helps with the healing process. And when disabled people see other disabled people doing so it can make them feel empowered," he says.
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