Real Fun while out Shopping in the Congo

I remember that shopping in the Congolese Provincial cities was never easy and sometimes it was nerve wracking for the faint-hearted. We were in a big African Market and Esther had her bag wrapped tightly under her arm. This place was notorious for petty thieves.

One Misso had had his Aussie Acubra hat stolen off his head and the rugby front-row sized son had chased the thief and rugby tackled him into the tables of the shoe stall sending shoes and shoppers flying in all directions.

While Esther was looking she felt a faint tap on her left shoulder and turned to see who touched her. She did not realise that at that very moment her good leather bag had been slit with a razor blade. She only found out when she put her had in to get some money for a purchase. Her hand went straight through and out the big hole that had been made. Luckily, her money was in another special compartment and they got nothing for their clever effort.
The devil is a thief. He steals girls of their virginity. He robs young men of their purity and clarity of purpose. He wants you to kill yourself by suicide or take another precious life. He is fixed on your destruction, eternal destruction with him in Hell. But Jesus came to give us LIFE, abundant overflowing blessed LIFE.

On another day in Lubumbashi, Esther was sitting in the 4x4 looking after the vehicle while I was shopping. It was so hot that she could not keep the window up all the time. So she had it down to get some fresh air.

There was a sudden knock on the car on the opposite side to where she was in the passenger seat. She turned her head and while she did a hand went through the window and down between her legs trying to get her purse hidden under her legs. So the next time she went shopping she decided that she would wrap the shoulder strap around her leg thus hindering a quick getaway of a thief. It worked well until she wished to get out of the vehicle. She forgot the strap and nearly tripped onto the ground because of the strap around her leg.

What about the thieves who tried to break-in to a Land Rover back door in the centre of Lusaka, Zambia. The woman missionary left the front passenger seat to see what was going on and had her handbag stolen while she was round the back. She saw the thief, kicked off her shoes and began the chase down the main street. She had been a sprinter and high jumper in her youth and she caught the African in the crowded street. The crowds were amused with this white missionary having a tug-a-war with the local for her bag which eventually he surrendered. She was cheered and cheered as the conqueror.

Not every missionary gets off on the best side of things. We are TOOOO TRUSTING or gullible.

While in a West African Capital and just ready to head out with a huge load in the back of the Mitsubishi 4x4 Twin cab, I climbed out to check the ropes tying on the load. While I was out I had my purse stolen from under the front seat with all my money, Driver’s Licence and car papers in it. It took me some time getting temporary papers from the Police. About two hours later, I said to Esther as we travelled into the interior. “Well what does it matter anyway. God is still with us and we are unharmed.” We eventually replaced all the lost documents.

Another day they tried to get me out of the car by rocking the car and attempting to break-in the back door. On one occasion I had reversed very quickly and nearly run my tormentors over. On another day they tried to get me out by letting the air out of my tyres. Unsuccessful, they then stole my cap off my head through the open window.

I yelled out in French. “Oh look, you’ve stolen from a bald-headed old man, now he has nothing to protect him from the sun.” They kindly came back and gave me my cap. How gracious of them.

Are you security conscious and do you have your wits about you. Be suspicious and think African and then you won’t be an easy target. Try not to put yourself into places where you will be vulnerable; but don't get paranoid about it. You need to be vulnerable sometimes, and take some risks. Otherwise you will go nowhere and accomplish nothing.

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A lion story from a small African Hut on a Rainy afternoon

Forty-five kilometres to the east of Kipushya Mission is the village and Christian centre of Kabula Lusala. I have forgotten the reason for travelling to this Village  where there was a vibrant village church with school and dispensary/maternity all built by the local population.

The village where the Rains did not come.

It was in this area in a nearby village where the church needed to be rethatched during one dry season in the 1940s and the villagers had not made the time to do it. It was becoming urgent as the rains only stop for four months in that part of the Congo, in East Kasai, usually from mid-May to mid-September. The Missionary came on his bicycle to see how things were progressing. Nothing had been done.

He was a man of prayer and had seen many miraculous interventions from God. He’d built a special prayer hut at the mission where He could give Himself to fasting and prayer and he’d seen God move in Revival Power on two different ocassions in the early years.

Basonge Thatching a school building.

He said in this village near Kabula Lusala, “There won’t be any rain on your crops until you have put the last thatch on the church roof”. Meaning the special thatch ridge-capping so beautifully done by the Basonge. They went on with their own work ignoring what the Pastor had said and they were busy getting their gardens ready to plant corn and manioc for the new season.

Well like Elijah of old who prayed that God would shut up the heavens and it didn’t rain for three and a half years so it didn’t rain. They were now already in October and there was very little thatching grass to be found and it need to be carried for many kilometres if it was found. The rains were just not coming and the winds were getting stronger and hotter.

All at once they realised that what the Pastor had said would cause them famine if they did’t oblige. They soon had the thatching done and as they finished down came the rains.

Now back to my story. WE sat in this very small hut on this rainy Saturday afternoon. In the one room there were four bamboo relaxing chairs; a bed made from Makadi, a tall bamboo which grows in swampy areas; and a grass mat on the floor.

The rain was dripping off the thatch onto the soft loamy soil. These pastors who had come with me were eager to tell me some African stories of Lions. There was the one about men turning themselves into two lions. Africans believe that through witchcraft they can change themselves into a big cat if they wish to kill someone. There was another one about the lion which came out of the bush and roared at the little group of men on the path. It then ran off down the path that they were taking.

Pastor Ngoie Shalumbo spoke of the day they were out on a hunt about twenty kilometres to the east of Kipushya Mission. They had their bunderbus guns over their shoulders, primed and ready with gunpowder and raffia and pieces of bike axle in the barrel as bullets. After hunting for about three hours, Pastor Ngoie and a friend were tired and leg weary. They decided to go into a clump of trees and have a rest. The others went on with the hunt.

While Pastor Ngoie and friend were cat-napping in the shade they heard the roar of a Lion nearby. As quick as jack-robinson they were high up a tree swinging in the branches. Apparently lions don’t like noise near them either and they will climb up a tree and pull a man down if you talk. They are cats anyway.

After some time the other group returned and came looking for their friends. They found their hunting gear on the ground but nobody nearby. As they looked up there they were riding high in the tree. Without making a noise they tried to tell them there was a lion nearby and to keep quiet and get up a tree as fast as they could.

Soon all the five hunters were swinging in the branches up in the tree. After some hours and weary of hanging there they quietly climbed down and made their way home not seeing the lion and not catching any prey. They arrived home with only a story of the lion that roared at them. 
"Watch out for the Devil and his tricks. he goes round as a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour"
More Stories from Africa 1

Some Lion stories from the Congo

African Pastors love to tell lion stories.

No 1. Here is one from the back of our truck as we travelled up to the north of Basongeland. Mpanya Edourd had been a student in the Teacher Training School at Kipushya Mission in Central Congo. He had a wonderful sense of humour and classes were always fun with Muzinga Emmanuel and Mpanya Edourd in them.

After graduating from Fourth Year Pedagogie he was assigned to the Primary School at Lubao approximately 125kilometres from Kipushya. He was carrying all his family’s goods and chattels on the carrier of his bike heading up the road to Lubao before returning to carry his wife and children. African bikes can carry a load.  He had waited in a village as he travelled North East because of a huge afternoon thunderstorm.

Art Propelled Goats on Bikes in Africa

Now it was time to get moving again. He was gracefully weaving his way around the huge puddles on the sandy road when he noticed the fresh paw-marks of lions. This soon made him wakeup. He lifted his head and there they were just standing on the side of the road looking at him. He was so shocked and afraid that he kept peddling straight past them. Then he lost control of the heavily laden bike. His legs would not peddle anymore and he was soon on the ground with the peddle sticking into his middle. He muscles just went to jelly.

He tried several times to get up but fear took hold of him. He lay there on the top of the bike and dared not look in the direction of the two wild beasts. Tambwe as they call them. He eventually had enough confidence to stand the bike up and begin pushing it up the road. He climbed on and started to peddle for all he was worth. He really sped along until he reached the next village exhausted. It was a frightening ordeal to be so close the King and Queen of the Big Cats.  

Art Propelled Congolese Delivery of a Lounge Chair

Just plant a Tree God will make it grow.

School boys and Bible Students with the newly Marrieds

When I first went to the Congo in 1967 I was Head Teacher and class teacher in the Teacher Training Institute of Kipushya.  There were over 80,000 pupils in the Mission Primary schools so we needed trained teachers urgently. In the Congo they have a Pedagogy stream in the High School system similar to the Manual Arts or the Science streams we have in Australia.

 After being married in the Congo, Esther, who was a nurse came to help me in the Institute as a teacher of Scripture and English. What a struggle for Aussies having to teach every day new lessons in French. Our Vocabulary had to grow very fast. The Students helped us with the Grammar especially the masculine and feminine of French.

A young student came to Esther with a real hunger to know God and His Word. Esther opened the Bible and told him that Jesus died for us to bring us back into right relationship with God. She explained how God’s anger had been turned away because of the Sacrifice of Jesus on the Cross. Eventually Ebondo committed his life to Jesus Christ and began to follow Him with all his heart. He was at that time probably 16 years of age.

About this time I planted a tree in front of the school to give some shade from the hot midday sun. It was small and about a metre tall.

         In 1992 Esther and I returned to the Congo for two years before we went to Guinea in West Africa.

One day a young man arrived at our back door. He asked me if I knew him. I answered, “No! But you look like Ebondo Sylvan whom I had not seen since the mid seventies, twenty years before. The young man was standing there with his wife. He explained.I am Ebondo Sylvan’s brother. When I was twelve you came to our village and preached under the big tree in the centre of the village. I gave my heart to the Lord that day and now I have come to Kipushya Mission to go to Bible School as I want to be a pastor. How amazing!

Ken and esther with the African Staff Members Lenge Charles, Mwamba Valerien and another.

School students with Ken. (Kikangal Stanislas and Mutombo Nestor my helpers).

Morning Assembly Before School in the Congo -  Singing Hymns from ‘Chants de Victoire’.

I remember clearly the day I went to their village. It was in the height of the Rainy season in the Congo. The clouds were low and menacing. The road to their village was long. It was seventy kilometres along two wheel tracks in the tall savannah grass. After teaching all morning and then driving for most of the afternoon I was exhausted by the time I reached the village. It was not a neatly laid-out place and the village main street was overgrown with weeds. I had gone there intending to buy manioc sticks and corn for the boarding school. There was only a small amount of food to be had and the manioc sticks were of a very poor quality.

Someone said, “Aren’t you going to preach to us?” I was a bit tired and grumpy by this stage but I reluctantly accepted saying, “If you call all the people under this big tree I will preach to them.” I preached for about 15-20 minutes, said a prayer and headed for home. I never thought that God had a young twelve year old in mind that day. Now twenty years later he was a married man heading for Bible School. Here he was standing in front of me.

You plant a tree and God will make it grow. In 1992 when I returned to Kipushya after ten years in Australia I saw this huge tree that was at least 70cms across the trunk. Remember I had planted a tree in the mid 1970s. Now there was this forest giant right there in the middle of the School parade ground. Plant a Tree. God will surely make it grow.