Congo – In the city of
Lumbumbashi
Several
months ago I met a Congolese Pastor here in Kabwe and he gave me an invitation
to come teach a seminar in his church. Over the months we had been
communicating so now the plans had come together and off we went. That is Mr.
Kashiba and myself. Mr. Kashiba is a mission’s pastor in one of the local
churches here in Kabwe where our family often attends.
Oh
yes, I forgot to tell you the visa part. You have to have a visa to go to
Congo, so off to Lusaka (150km away) we went first, a few days before our
departure day. We arrived and the guard at the Congolese Embassy said that I
was not allowed in. I politely asked why and he said because I had shorts on.
Now I live in shorts most of the time unless I am doing ministry, I even wore
very nice, clean shorts and a nice, clean shirt, which is not always my attire.
I usually have holes in my shirt, I don’t know where they come from but they
just appear. Jette is often asking me, “what happened now?”, “I don’t know
honey, honestly.” She says they are my
golf shirts – 18 holes - you know…..
So
Kashiba, who was in the proper, embassy-regulated attire, goes into the embassy
and gets the forms, I fill them out and 6 hours later we have to come back to
collect the visa. Well, after those 6 hours we came back only to find out that
my application was denied. Reason was
that my Zambian visa is not updated. Well, it is, actually. Now what do we do?
So we decided that we would go to another city closer to the Congolese border
and try there.
Three
days later we left Kabwe and headed north through the country of Zambia to the
city of Ndola, the former capital of Zambia. This time, though, I put on long
pants. Upon arriving, stepping into the embassy there, there were three guys in
shorts sitting there waiting for their visa. “What is this?” I thought! But as the
good boy that I am, I practiced the fruits of the spirit and said nothing… Making
sure that my Zambian paper work was in order, three hours later I was granted
my visa and off we headed up to the border of Congo.
I
have heard lots of rumors or reality of Congo, all the corruption etc. Well, it
was time for me to find out. Parking my car in a ‘safe’ place, the long-term
parking place, off we went through the Zambian immigration without issues.
Walking now across to the Congolese side, this is where things got interesting.
I was actually told by the embassy back in Lusaka that it is better to get the
visa there at their office rather than at the border because they will charge
you twice as much at the border, not because it is legal, but just because they
can. So here I stand in front of the immigration officer and he wants to charge
me money even though I have a visa already! He saw that he was not going to get
money from me, so he asked for my yellow medical card, which I did give them to
see. “These dates are not right, go to the clinic and get your yellow fever
shot.” So I went over to their little office and I tried to speak nicely to the
ladies there, but they were not going to have it; they wanted a hundred and
five bucks for normally a ten dollar shot! After 20 minutes of making lots of
noise between them and me and Mr. Kashiba too, who also needed one shot, we
ended up giving them twenty dollars and in the end of it all we got no shots.
So this at least pleased them somehow because they at least got something, they
stamped our passports and away we went.
So,
our adventure had started, it was about 4 pm when we got through, we went out
to meet our host pastor Bertan but he was nowhere to be found. We waited for
over an hour, while the local street vendors kept trying to sell us something,
anything. We called but there was no network so we started wondering if we
should go back to Zambia and sleep or take a bus to Lumbumbashi one hundred km away, but then where do we go,
where do we stay? Where is this pastor who told me he would be here? Finally we
had network, the call went through and we were now being instructed to take a
bus to the city and he would meet us there.
So
in a bus and off we go to a city of 6 million people, we get there about 8pm
after fighting crazy, chaotic traffic. Now, this is not your normal traffic
where people generally are in their own lane, no, this is drivers who make a
two lane road into a 5 lane road. Tanzania is pretty bad, but not like this.
Absolutely no road rules here, it is not even first-come-first-serve, that would
be respectful, it is last-come-first-serve and he makes sure that he goes
first, does not care if he goes against traffic or through someone’s driveway,
down the sidewalk, he is going to be first, now everyone does this and what do
you have…..
Anyway
we finally arrived at our destination and Pastor Bertan was there waiting for
us with a smile and a hug. All I wanted was a bed by this time. We went to a
shop and got some chicken-and-chips-to-go and into another taxi and off we went
into the dark to our guest house. Through crowded streets we reached our guest
house. It was newly painted inside, very clean, even had electricity which was
a plus, seeing that most of the city did not have electricity. But here they
have their own generator, this is definitely not a five-star hotel, but it will
do for Kashiba and I just fine. Consuming our chicken and chips we were off to
our separate little rooms, of course you have to visit the loo before bed. Well,
this is not a typical loo that you sit on rather it is the Asian style toilet. The kind you stand over or squat over. Anyway
you deal with what you have, at least I don’t have to go outside next to tree
like it’s done in Masai Land, well, actually that is not so bad out there, at
least it is clean and fresh air. In Masai land from time to time you just may see
an elephant walk by, although that might stop things up depending on just how
close he is…..
It
is now my 3rd morning in Congo. I went out for a short walk and I now
find myself sitting over the top of an open trench that runs through the
streets on both sides with a pen in my hand. The smell and things that you see run
through this trench are not attractive. I did not sit here for the purpose of
checking out the ‘fish’ below. I am not the only one sitting here for there are
several others, I just came to sit with them and have some small talk.
This seems to
be a place that, well, you just sit and enjoy the morning hour. I am sure that
those sitting next to me don’t see that where we are sitting is that bad; “This
is where we sit every morning while we drink our morning coffee.”
I guess if I
did this every morning… What once seemed so bad now just seems normal, I guess.
When one grows up in this environment which many here have, they have never
known anything different so this is the only life they know. Now a person like
myself who has been a few places and seen a few things and especially being a
man of God, this is not how God intended life to be at all, but because of the
heart of man, this is what life has become. How we have fallen into deception!
Now you take a whole nation, or even the majority of this whole continent, it
has fallen under spiritual deception and you will have serious disorder in
every aspect of life. How can one explain it, for it is deeper than words? You
have to be sitting alongside me here over looking this trench next to my new
friends here to see, hear, smell, touch, and taste the life here. You have to
feel it in your soul to appreciate it, otherwise you judge it.
Congo
Congo is the
second largest country in Africa, the largest being Algeria. Congo is about the
size of Washington, Idaho, Oregon, Montana, Nevada, Arizona and California put
together or about the size of two-thirds of Western-Europe. Congo is a vast
country with an immense amount of natural resources. Its first language is
French followed by Swahili, and then there are hundreds of local dialects that
are spoken as well. Congo has had civil unrest for several decades; at least 4
million have been killed in the past years. This never-ending conflict is one
of war and corruption, fueled by Congo’s rich minerals and the greed for power
and money. It received its independence in 1960. Here in the city of
Lumbumbashi there are six million in population, this city is the capital of
the southernmost state or province of Congo.
I
have had to recall my 10-or-so words of French that I remember from my high
school French class with Mrs. Bruit. (Now that
is another story..) I use my Swahili here very easily, so this is a big help to
me. There are very few wazungu or white people who make their way through Congo
much less live here, quite different then Zambia and understandably so.
I
am in a part of the city called Kenya, now, it got its name because after the wars
in East Africa with the Germans quite a few from the Kenyan military came to
settle here, thus the name. This part of the city is now severely overpopulated
and completely congested.
Literally just
down the street from here starts the biggest market area in this large city, so
for like 15 square blocks is this market through which I took a walk yesterday.
If you have this idea that you would like to get lost in a foreign country,
this would be an ideal place. There is rubbish everywhere, plastic bags by the
millions litter the streets, heaps of trash are gathered and placed into the
middle of the streets in hopes that the government trucks will come and
collect. (They have evidently not been here in some time...)
The
streets are lined with thousands of vendors. This particular block that I am
on, is lined with shoes, used shoes from the West. Many of these shoes are
washed, polished and resold for 5-10 bucks. They are already broken in and
everything, what a bargain! Maybe I should get some for Jette, you know for
Christmas, this pink pair would…on second thought, maybe not…
Some vendors have only a few pairs so they
line them up carefully in hopes for a buyer. After this block the next five
streets are all used clothes, also from the West. I can still see some yellow,
orange and blue tags from Salvation Army stores in the States. I walked through
the fish market and well, let’s just say it smells fishy...
As I sit here
along my friends, my fan club continues to grow and it is not hard to see the
struggle and desperation of life on most of the faces, trying to survive yet
another day in this over-crowded city. One does not have time to concern himself
with the life of others for if you do, your own life could be swept away. Just
across the street from our little guest house a little boy just died from what
they say was yellow-fever. I heard the mother mourning throughout the night. I
spoke with her this morning and she was busy with her now empty life. She had
to get over it and move on or she herself may be the next victim.
HIV/Aids is
the biggest killer here in this city, it is as high as +/- 45%. I know that we
hear statistics from the UN and WHO (World Health Organization) that it is only
about 16%. Well, this may be nice to hear, but step in and start talking to the
local clinics and the doctors who work here. They do a blood test on every
patient who comes through their doors and some doctors say it is easily over
50%. One doctor told me that he thinks that as many as 65% are carrying the
virus.
I try to
imagine raising my kids here in this environment, but yet there are 1000’s of
kids that are born and raised here. For them it is home, they don’t know
anything different. The hardest thing for me to understand is that many of the
adults who do live here, they choose to live here. They could go live back in
their village where there is fresh air, it is clean, working in the fields and
getting a fresh harvest several times a year - yet they come here by the
hundreds, hoping for a better life. I am not sure how they define better. I
think many are drawn here because of hopeful dreams. Once here you get addicted
to the lawlessness here, it is do whatever you want and this is attracting to
the evil hearts of men. I don’t have to be accountable or responsible to anyone
or anything, it is easy to fall into this trap and even harder to get out.
I see some
boys just down the back alley who have made a ball out of plastic bags. They wrap
bags on top of bags and tie them all together and let’s play some ball. This is
quite common throughout Africa.
I notice on
the streets lots of bread being sold. This morning I saw some guy with about 300
loaves of bread on his head taking it to sell. It would have been a great
picture. This bread looks like the
French bread, the long thinner loaf. In Liberia where I grew up we liked this
style of bread, we could only buy it in the local market and we called it
‘Fanti bread’ because the Fanti people made it. Here in our guesthouse this was
our breakfast each morning, of course this came with a cup of tea, and as a
true proper gentleman I take my tea with a spot of milk thank you…
Here in Congo
you drive on the right side of road because of the French influence. Zambia
drives on the left side because of the English influence. About half of Africa
drives on the right and half drives on the left. The problem here in Congo is
that though you drive on the right, all the steering is also on the right
because all the cars are second-hand from Japan who drives on the left. So when
you want to pass someone which everyone does here, you have to pull way out in
the other lane to see if there is oncoming traffic. So you have cars dodging in
and out all the time. The mini buses used as taxi buses are just bashed in,
scratched, dented, with broken windows. It is actually great here in some ways,
it makes Zambia boring. Tanzanian drivers are a bit crazy as well, but this is
another level. On one of our trips from the church we got stuck in a traffic
mess, cars in every direction. Sitting there next to our bashed in taxi was
this nice new Mercedes Benz, the look of nervousness was quite obvious on the
driver’s face. I was thinking that he is nuts for having his nice MB out here,
I am sure he was thinking the same thing!
As I sit here
the noise level is so high, people shouting, music coming out of shops trying to
outdo the guy next door, vehicle horns, and salesmen shouting out to attract
their customers. Sitting here I am just amazed of just how much is going on at
the same time and in the same place. It is madness! I think I am going to go
back into the safety of my little guest house.
Now back in
my little room laying on my bed thinking about all this stuff, the lights go from dim to
bright, dim to bright about every second. I am asking God where He is in all
this? The Lord answered quite quickly saying, “I am here, I walk these streets
every day, my Spirit moves up and down these streets calling people, reaching
out, and touching the hurting people but so many are too blind to see.”
I cannot imagine
how God sees all these thousands of people and knows every one by name. Their
struggles, their simple yet complicated lives and yet he is reaching out to all
of them. Now this is only one city of 6 million, what about the millions of
equally desperate people in India, Philippians, Brazil, and on the streets of
New York City? God knows them all. He has a purpose them all. In my selfish
heart it is hard to love all these, maybe I too should be walking the streets
calling out, touching the lost, reaching into the broken hearts and offering
hope. It shows the state of my own heart, God help me to value what you value,
teach me to love as you love. I do love Africa, there is hardly a day that a
tear does not come to my eye for Africa; but Lord, there are so many, what
difference can I make in this vast sea of people? How does one influence the
mindset of a whole society?
The nations
around the world are falling under the deception of the lie of materialism and
the spirit of the world, even the church has moved from the ‘Freedom of the
Spirit’ to the ‘Spirit of Freedom’ and you see the fruits thereof.
How does God
feel when he looks at his once perfect creation, predestined for his glory, now
it lies in ruins? Well, my very purpose of coming here is actually not to sit
and write about Lumbumbashi rather it is to do some training with pastors about
‘The Purpose of the Church.’ I am finding that many pastors and church leaders
do not really understand the purpose of the church other than Sunday morning
services. My last three days have been great with about 20 pastors. They are
full of questions and readiness. It seems that all of the pastors are worn out,
tired and frustrated, I look around and can anyone blame them? I have made it my commitment to these Congolese
pastors to encourage them, and minister life into them.
They are all
excited and have asked that I come back in January for another week. They want
to get at least 200 pastors together to do what we have done here these last
few days.
Pastor Bertan
took Kashiba and me around to show us some of his vision. He is running a small
clinic, and TTN will try to see that we get him some medical equipment here in
the next month or so. Pastor Bertan is also planting a new church in a newly
developing area. It is estimated that within the next 10 years this new area
will be home to over a hundred thousand people. I love to see these local men
and women live here and commit themselves to Gods work among their own people.
I am seeing myself more and more of stepping out of practical mission projects
and getting more involved with encouraging and building up these locals. After
all, it is their country. I can live here most of my life (which I have) but I
am far from really understanding the soul of an African, for I will always be
an outsider.
There is
still lots of room here for foreign missionaries but I believe we need to have
a new look at what we do and where we fit in; not changing our message, just
changing some of our approaches, but that is another book…
There is so
much more to write but my coffee cup is empty and my bladder is full. I am just
glad that I have my own toilet to go to.
In my closing
words to us all, there are many people in desperate situations, they may not be
on the streets of Congo but they may be in a suit and tie on Hollywood Boulevard.
Let us all continue to give a part of ourselves to those around us as Christ
did for you. Something to keep in mind, at the end of your life you will regret
more what you did not do, rather than what you did do.
I will likely
go back to Congo this January, anyone want to join me. Also I am always on the
lookout for financial supporters to help make these trips possible. Thank you
for your prayers and your support.
