41. Zaire: Kananga to Kolwezi

For this stretch of the trip we had happened on Deluxe Class tickets in a “special train”.  We were benefiting from having changed our money on the black market in Kinshasa which meant that we got 5 times the official rate.  If we had had to pay the official exchange rate, Zaire would have been our most expensive country.  Using the black market, it was our cheapest country over all.  Still we felt a bit guilty about using the “Deluxe coach”.  As I recall it, it was to travel in  that or not at all on this leg.

Something that is important to clear up in retrospect is that in the following sections we observed activity leading up to the coronation of the Mwaant Yaav, and then were actually were present for the event.  I did not appreciate how important the event actually was until we had a Masters student, Bruce Mucatwe, from Zambia a few years later…2005.  There it surfaced that the Mwaant Yaav is the king not only for much of Southern Congo, but also Western Angola and Zambia, anywhere where the people either consider themselves Lunda or descended from Lundas and Lubas..  The Mwaant Yaav that was coronated in 1983 is still Bruce´s king.

According to Wikipedia “The Kingdom of Lunda (c. 1665-1887), also known as the Lunda Empire, was a pre-colonial African confederation of states in what is now the Democratic Republic of Congo, north-eastern Angola and northwestern Zambia. Its central state was in Katanga. 

The significance of Kolwezi is that when we left the US we had two firm addresses to visit on the trip, the Ottomoellers in Nigeria and the Frenchs in Kolwezi.  The former was a friend of a friend of Dan´s main professor at University.  By contrast the Frenches were Methodist Agricultural missionaries with multiple connections to our parents and had met at one time or another.  Dan had actually hit it off with their son, Neils, at an orientation retreat for missionary kids the fall of our first year (1979) in University in the US.  As these things go, the Frenchs were practically extended family. We had been traveling for over 6 months so were ready for some family.

Kolwezi was also well-known internationally at the time, because only 4 years before there had been a major battle between rebels coming in from Angola and the Zairoise Army backed up by Morocco.  In the end the French Foreign Legion troops were parachuted in to save many of the foreign people caught up in the battle. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Kolwezi)  Finally it should be mentioned that Kolwezi is where the main copper mine was (and may still be) that was the main prize that all of the Katangan wars have been fought over, and continue to be fought into the 21^st century.

A period drawing of our trip.  We came down the railroad from Kananga, just off of the map, to Luena, across to Kolwezi and then made an extensive trip by land with Mr. French up to Kapanga, where the Mwaant Yaav was coronated, and even to Chitazu, which was back, not too far from the railroad.  This was an extremely long road trip for Zaire, as very few roads remained, and there was an extreme gasoline shortage.

Kananga, Zaire, Monday,  March 28, 1983

 

It took us a while to find our car, and when we did, a harried-looking man asked us to wait because an “important person” was descending. We did so, and then got on to find our compartment “F” with no problem. Talk about class! A little compartment to ourselves. Of course the lights did not work, there was no window, and the shutters opened only part way, but VERRY NICE.

We sat down on our long sofa to watch the important person being greeted by a crowd. They greeted him with a hymn sung in about 3 parts. It is really impressive to hear singing like that come from an unrehearsed crowd. He then said a prayer, and they all left, so we decided he was the leader of some religious sect. We wondered if the fancy Corvette parked in front of the station was for him because it had something about evangelique printed on it.

Things settled down a bit, and Dan took to reading his book (by the author of Don Quijote U.S.A.) by the outside lights. Next door there was some kind of commotion. I listened for a while and then said, “Dan, that sounds kind of like your friend Sebastian from the Deluxe cabin on the Major Mudimbi.” “Nah, it couldn’t be.” But we both perked up our ears, and sure enough it was he making a big stink next door.

We eventually learned that he had originally been berthed in our compartment but had  insisted on being changed to another with a functioning window. Fine, but upon arriving in Kananga, someone high up had reserved that very cabin. He kept yelling about how irresponsible the rail company was. We finally went to sleep at about midnight; somehow they found him a compartment (after many insults) at about 2:00. We finally left the Kananga station at 1:30. By then Dan and I were snuggled into our comfortable wide bunks. A hard life is all I can say.

Kananga – Luena, Shaba Province (Formerly Katanga) Tuesday March 29, 1983

(DAN) We had a very leisurely day in our most comfortable surroundings yet. There was no third class on the train, so we had none of the long trading stops of the Train Ordinaire. Possibly for that reason we did not see any soldier-vultures operating. (We described the blatant exploitation and abuse of common people by the Zairoise military in posts 39 and 40 of this series).

The memorable component of the day was the countryside, hundreds of kilometers of sparsely settled, virtually uncultivated, lush savannah. Granted, we are coming through at the end of the rainy season and everything is tall, thick, and green. One cannot but be amazed at the enormity of Zaire and its incredible land resources. Unlike most of the West Africa we crossed, the relief is well-developed and there are good streams every few miles -- again at the end of the rainy season. Still, the two cows we saw from the boat are the only cattle we have seen, in fact the only animal life we have seen for “years”. Two decades of sporadic war are supposed to have rid the area of the remnants of the considerable game that used to run in this area.

On one side you have the incredible land resources; on the other hand nobody (especially expatriates) talks about the future of Zaire without despairing. On one side you have Mobutu, one of the richest men in the world; on the other a population commonly believed to be worse nourished than the “poor Sahelian tribes”. (We have yet to see any kind of field except manioc.) All this potential, and even the “lower class” Zairois have to depend on South Africa for protein and processed foods.

We definitely climbed much of the day, though we started back down toward dusk. We shall cross the Zaire (Lualaba at this point) twice before we get to Kolwezi, once at Bakamae and again between Luena and Kolwezi. Kolwezi itself is high, in fact it must be very near the continental divide. It is, according to our map, only 50 kms from the source of the Zaire River and not much farther from the source of the Zambezi, the two big rivers in this part of Africa.

There was, of course a diner next door that serves reputedly good food, but we stuck to our travelers’ fare and made café con leche and tea with our little burner. Lunch would have cost us Z 40 each, or the price of a little bottle of our gas. Our first bottle has given us 18 pots of boiling water and shows no sign of slowing, so we have an easy choice.

Before we left Kananga, I wanted to beg a cigar off David and have a picture taken of me lounging in our Deluxe doorway lighting said cigar with a Z 1 bill, I did not get up the nerve on the cigar, and, as usual, never got around to taking a picture of our accommo­dations either!

Our route through Zaire: Blue for river travel, orange for rail, yellow for Land Rover and a grey line for the flight to Kalemi.

Luena - Kolwezi, Wednesday, 30 March, 1983

(HELENA) At about 5:00 someone came to warn us that Luena was one of the next stations. We knew that we still had to cross the Zaire River, but we decided to get up and get ready con calma. As it turned out, we had plenty of time, even to fix and drink a café au lait. In fact we were rather disgruntled at having to get up so dark and early when we only arrived in Luena at 9:30. The last stretch (Kamina - Luena) was our fastest because during our several hours at Kamina, they had switched us to an electric engine.

It is always amusing to note what a particular stop will have as its specialty. This morning we stopped for a moment at a place where they only sold tomatoes. Right after crossing the Zaire River (strange to think this is part of the large river that took us in and out of Kinshasa) we stopped at Bukama where they sold all sizes and shapes of dried fish.

A couple of hours before arriving at our destination, one of the railroad employees came to tell us that he had someone to take our place once we got off. I do not know ex­actly why he felt he had to inform us, but sure enough, some chief came to stand outside our door way before Luena so he could grab our compartment before anyone else. Kind of sad to leave all that comfort, but I do not think we would enjoy traveling that way often; it is just too isolated.

Luena was a beautiful little town, and we had little trouble finding the home of Kendra and John Enright and 5-month-old Brian. They knew we were coming, so it made things a lot easier. One of our first impressions as we sat outside having a coke was of how good his Swahili was. Since this is our first exposure to Swahili, they had to tell us what language it was, but it was easy to see that he spoke it fluently and with a good accent. No wonder; we found out that he is an “MK” whose parents continue to work here in Zaire. Kendra and John were first in Botswana for 3 years, and came to Zaire in 1977. They used to be in Kolwezi, and Kendra described it as a beautiful town, but they were there during the 1978 massacre (their house had some 30 bullet holes in it) and could not bear to live there again. They were not ready to talk about it, even now. .

He took us across the street to see his banana plantation, mainly to show Dan the difference between the plants on one side of a stream where the plants on one side were bigger and healthier than those on the other side.  He was soon called away, so Kendra showed us the medicine depot that she is in charge of.

Dan and Johnny (as Tove French refers to him) went to check on transport while Kendra took me back to the guest house to get a bath. They first suggested taking the mission plane (piloted by the famous Stan Ridgeway who was born in Bolivia) but they later found that it was not going to be stopping in Luena. With that possibility gone (frankly, I was relieved, REALLY, fly into Kolwezi), it looked as though we might spend the night, but no, the men soon returned with the news that the mine would be sending a big Blue Bird bus at 1330. Pretty lucky because that road does not have much traffic; in fact we did not meet or see another vehicle the whole 160 km.

They had invited an evangelist who lives in Kolwezi for lunch, so we all sat down together. We sort of hurried through lunch because of our bus, but it did not come to pick us up until 14:30. We were so glad that we would be getting to Kolwezi before dark, but we had not counted on their fixing the bus until 16:00 and then stopping to shop at every little village along the way. We had paid a paltry sum of less than $l (black market) so we could not complain much. The driver must get something out of all of the buying because he would stop with no complaint in spite of the fact that he was quite surly with some of the passengers. He would wait patiently until everyone was through. Among other things, we saw three big rats for sale along with several monkeys that are cured by burning or smoking.) The driver himself bought a bunch of stuff.

We crossed the Zaire River one last time, this time on a ferry which is attached to cables and is powered by the current itself. That was our first and probably last free ferry ride on our trip. The bus is subsidized by the mining company, and this particular trip was to take people back to high school in Kolwezi.

We finally limped into Kolwezi at 22:30. It is one of those towns that seem never to arrive because you see the mine lights first and later the town lights. Mrs. French was waiting for us, and fortunately Johnny had asked the driver to drop us off at the mission. We were pretty tired after 2 nights and 2 days on the road and railroad, so we had a good, hot meal, and felt right at home with Tove French, AND there were a few letters awaiting us.

Kolwezi, Zaire (AT LAST) Thursday, 31 March, 1983

(DAN) We had quite a haul of mail waiting for us. Nothing quite like word from home! We also had a fine letter from Ann Kemper in Zing, Nigeria. Her news was not all good. I do not know if we ever mentioned meeting a German mis­sionary family, the Vosslers. They were all (including the three children) in an auto accident there in Nigeria, and he was killed. The others were injured and have been flown back to Germany[1].

The day started out leisurely. Mr. French is in Lubumbashi until Friday, and Mrs. French is busy with the radio. We have become aware of a lot of activity between the radio and the mission airplanes. We were informed yesterday that the big chief of the Lundas, the Mwaant Yaav who presides in Kapanga, had just died, and there has been a lot of flying and talking back and forth between Kapanga and Lubumbashi. To the best of my understanding, the Lunda chiefdom stretches over most of southern Zaire, part of Angola, and western Zambia. The center, Kapanga, is an old Methodist mission station. Most of the land in the chiefdom is “heavily Methodist”, and all of the candidates are at least nominally Methodist, so there is a lot of interest being invested. The Frenches started out in Kapanga and worked there for many years. They know so much about the families involved, the traditions, etc., that it is confusing to follow. The main point is that though Mobutu officially did away with tribal chief powers, this is still a weighty and desired post.

One detail: the family that has yielded the last few chiefs are brothers and nephews of Moise Tchombe of Katanga separatist fame. Moise, himself, was a Methodist delegate at onetime and personal friend of the Woodcocks. Even though all the honchos are flying back and forth, it turns out that they are taking the body to Kananga by road which is a 2 1/2 day trip. He was in a hospital in Lubumbashi suffering from injuries in a car accident.  The old chief cannot be buried until the new chief is chosen, and taking him by land is one way to put off the burial. Other customs such as killing the old chief’s wives to send on with him have been officially discontinued.

Mrs. French came out in 1950, so she has seen at least four changeovers. Her own history is most interesting and bears repeating; hers is a different road from that of any other missionary we have known. She is Danish and at first only finished the eighth grade. She worked a while in a grocery store and a flower shop. Then she decided to take nurse’s training and then worked a while. She decided to become a missionary, and in preparation was to go to seminary, but to do that she first had to get her high school education (working all the while). She studied English simultaneously with seminary, and when she finished that, took mid-wifery training and then French before she came out. By that time her English “was gone”, so what she speaks now “can only be blamed on the missionaries.” Mr. French did not come out till 1957, and they were married the next year there in Kapanga.

About 0930 a British couple came looking for Mrs. French. They are with the Brethren mission here and wanted to borrow a church truck. They had been pulling a trailer on the road to Lubumbashi and had to swerve sharply to miss hitting a truck head-on. The hitch broke, and the trailer turned over several times. There are parts of three trucks here on the property, but none running. They had been hoping to load the damaged trailer on the back.

I offered to help, and we set off to look for a Greek merchant that Mrs. French suggested. He was at home, but his truck was out hauling firewood. Mr. Rews decided that the only thing to do was to go back out to the accident site, unload the trailer, and strip it of all strippable objects. The load consisted of 5-kilo bags of manioc meal, two oxygen tanks, and three big gas bottles, so it is little wonder that it turned over. The pavement at that point is only one vehicle wide, and all vehicles travel down it at a good rate. When you meet somebody, you have to tip one tire off on the shoulder which is a drop of around six inches. Does wonders for the tires. When the trailer dropped down, it kept going.

In addition to the load, we turned the trailer (a converted Suzuki pick-up bed) over, removed the tires, the springs, and the bent axle. We pushed the rest to the side until it could be loaded on a truck. As we came back into town, Mr. Rews commented that he wished we had removed the tail lights as well. I personally thought it was a little exaggerated. Back in town the two Rewses and the two nurses with them were invited to supper, so we got in a lot of conversation during the day.

The Brethren were the first missionaries in Katanga, dating back to 1885 or so. Mr. Rews’ father came out in 1923 and started the mission station of Katoca where the Rewses are now. He was born there and has spent all his years at the station except for the period when he went to school. It is in the extreme southwestern corner of Katanga-Shaba, a few kilometers from Angola both to the south and west.

They are out on “faith”, so apparently spend much of their time raising and growing their own food. Before the 80-day war in 1978 they had a good sized herd of cattle (a strain they had been breeding for 50 years) goats, sheep, chickens on a commercial scale, and three large fish ponds that used to average about 1000 kg of fish each per year. I understand that they have a boarding school, orphanage and dispensary, also supported in this way.

During the 80-day war they were taken as hostages by the rebel forces and spent a month with “other refugees” a ways inside Angola.  When they were able to return, they found that the Zairois soldiers had killed every single animal (5 dogs included) except one half-wild cat. They had even let the water out of the dams and harvested 18 months’ worth of fish. Fortunately, one of their workers had hidden 7 tilapia fish, and with those they have re-seeded the ponds; however they completely lost a strain of large tilapia-eating fish, and that has upset the balance so that now they get only 600 kilos per year. There are twice as many fish out there, but they are less than half as big as before due to so many predators.  We talked fish and dams until everybody else was bored stiff. He and a lot of laborers built the dams by hand and with one pick-up back in 1958-60.

The Rews of Garanganza

They have not been able to buy stock to start back any of their herds and are not going to as long as the political and economic situation here remains the same. One of the sub­jects discussed was the frequent occurrence of accidents along the border with antipersonnel land mines. Apparently, only in the last year or so, land mines have been “appearing” on the Angolan side of the border. There has always been a lot of trade back and forth across the borders since all the area is a single chiefdom. The incidents have a common pattern. Traders go over to the Angolan side in the morning, and on the way back over the same path step on a newly-placed mine. Apparently people watch for signs of footprints or actually see the people, and deliberately mine the path. I asked who the supposed culprits are. They opined that the mines seem to be distributed to the youth movement in Angola. Another side to the tragedy is that there is a high incidence of game stepping on these mines, animals that had survived the soldiers. If the animals are not found right away, the meat is worthless. Inhumanity!

According to the Rewses, the rebels in the 80-day war were the remains of Tshombe’s Katangese army, variously trained by the mercenaries then, the Portuguese later, and now the Cubans. They are supposedly very well trained which is one reason Mobutu had to call in the Moroccan soldiers to fight.

We learned a lot more of the 1978 Kolwezi massacre. I have vague memories of seeing colored pictures in Time (about May, 1978) and that the French Foreign Legion had to para­chute in to “liberate” the town. Three hundred white people are said to have been killed by the rebels. The figures for the subsequent fighting are in the thousands, mostly African. The Enrights (Jr.) were in this house at the time, and though the bullet holes have been patched here, there are about 20 in the building next door. Two bullets passed completely through the kitchen door, in and out of the refrigerator, in and out of a pot on the stove, through the back of the stove and into the wall. The refrigerator has been patched and repainted but you can still see light through the stove.

2eme Regiment Legion Etranger Au Kolwezi, 1978.  From Web.

The ordeal lasted 10 days. Apparently the “Cubans” had promised to lead them in this second war, but dropped the army at the border. So when the men reached Kolwezi, they were already disillusioned, undisciplined and losing. First the Katangese soldiers did the shooting and pilfering, but on successive nights people got drunk and bands of just regular armed people set out. They went through this house various times, tearing everything up, and after one attempt they no longer tried to straighten things up because they would just come through and tear them up again. They tried to get the rebel leaders to post sentries here to protect the place, but even the leaders were afraid to do it. A far cry from Southwestern College Stadium where WHS Class of ‘78 was daintily graduating at the time!

Kolwezi, Zaire, Friday, 1 April, 1983

(HELENA) This afternoon we decided to accompany Mrs. French to the Good Friday Church service. It was all in Swahili (except that the pastor said “okay” once) so we could not understand it. BUT the music was fantastic. For the congregational singing, the pastor would start out a hymn in his rather weak voice, people would join in hesitantly, and finally it would be in full swing in at least three part harmony. Some of the more traditional Western hymns were all right, but the local ones were awe-inspiring. One just had to sit there and let the sound soak in. They always sing in parts, even children at their games. And since they are far from timid with their singing, they really belt it out wholeheartedly. Aside from that there were two choirs, one of them a youth choir, complete with loud electric guitars. As we walked out of the building, I asked Mrs. French since when they had been using electric guitars in the churches. She replied that when Mobutu came to power, all youth organizations and meetings were outlawed, but they could get together for choir practice.  As a result there are lots of well-attended youth choirs.

We had been expecting Mr. French since early afternoon, but we finally had to go ahead and eat supper without him. We were pretty worried, but eventually had to go to bed. He arrived at 1:00 a.m., long after we had decided he was spending the night on the road. His bus had had trouble on the road, and someone had had to return to Lubumbashi to get the necessary part.  Instead of a five-hour trip, he ended up taking a 16-hour trip.

Dan spent a lot of his day helping with the turned-over trailer. They had to wait ages while someone repaired the truck they were borrowing, When they got out there (38 kms toward Lubumbashi) someone had turned the trailer back over looking for removable parts.  Appar­ently they were disgusted to find it stripped because they spitefully kicked in the tail lights.

           

Kolwezi, Zaire, Saturday, 2 April, 1983

We finally met Mr. French over the breakfast table. He is quite a character, and we shall get along together well. He is from Page, Nebraska (Holt County) and it seems we talk a lot of the same language. He told us that on his bus ride yesterday the soldiers had stopped the bus and made everyone except him get down and pay Z 5. He thinks that missionaries here cannot continue to sit back much longer in those situations. “Where is the mission witness there!” He says that foreigners are under strict warning not to criticize the government and have been kicked out for small protestations. While we were in Kananga, soldiers came to the Presbyterian office looking for the provisioner, Hobbs. He had been accused of “criticizing Mobutu”, and they had a warrant for his arrest. He was not around at the time, and we left before there was any development.

Mr. French has two jobs thought up for me before we head out on the trip we are planning. One is to help the project garden here get off the ground this season, including surveying to see if it is feasible to try to irrigate from the Gecamine swimming pool up the street. The other is to fix the hot water heater which has been leaking and running up the elec­tric bill “for a year”.  He got me started on the latter job right away.

It took me all morning and part of the afternoon just to get it disconnected (that’s why they call me “Handy Dan”). It is huge, and all the insulation is soaked, so it took three of us lift it off the wall, and the rest of the afternoon to take it apart and get the insul­ation out. As you may recall from Nigeria, pipe wrenches do not suit me well. But, I think the only way to do it is to do it.

We have finally found a missionary household that we are really familiar with. It was some sort of pay day, and there was a steady stream of visitors to see both Frenches. Three deep at the front door, two deep at the office door and maybe two women at the kitchen door waiting to sell fruit and vegetables.

They have been letting us --I should say, Helena-- do a lot of the work in the kitchen. Today Helena made a simple granola (which looks amazingly like the vermiculite insulation) and a big batch of More With Less “Master Mix”. We had fresh biscuits out of the latter for supper.

We are going to like Kolwezi, I believe. A cup of hot refreshment hits the spot at any hour. Which reminds me, Mrs. French offered coffee to Mr. Rews yesterday while we were waiting for the truck. He refused and later confided to me that he did not “hold” with eating between meals. “Women do that sort of thing, and that is why they have trouble with their weight. Mustn’t do it if a chap wants to stay trim at my age.”

Kolwezi, Zaire, Sunday, 3 April, 1983

(HELENA) The church service was to be at 8:30, so we rolled out fairly early. We had French toast for breakfast (the other mornings we have had raw oatmeal with milk and su­gar; quite good, although I never would have imagined it), piled into their Land Rover and drove a good ways to one of the eleven Kolwezi churches.  I was amazed to learn that sun­rise services on Easter are an “American” custom, so there is no reason to have them here.

The building we drove up to could have been any rural church in Bolivia, but there was one small difference; IT WAS PACKED. We had taken two folding chairs (evidently the pastor is very well liked and the building is always packed) and started to sit down at the back where there was good ventilation from the door. But no, they insisted we troop up front “to where you can hear the choirs better”.  I’ll not describe the music because it was similar to Friday’s, but there were a few interesting details. For instance, when offering time came, someone placed three baskets on a table at the front, and in strict order (starting at the back) everyone paraded in a complete circle past the offering baskets.  Since the church was so full, it took at least 20 minutes for everyone to pass by. Oh, at the beginning, both choirs (this time both had 3 electric guitars, and one had a small accordion, a drum, and a metal instrument) shuffled-danced in exactly the way they did in Bambur, Nigeria. The ser­vice lasted over two hours, and since there were only five tiny windows on each side, it got unbearably stuffy. The preacher was very enthusiastic, yelling out the whole sermon at the top of his voice. Naturally, we were introduced, and they sang the neatest “Bienvenidos” (welcome hymn). It was led by one woman who sang a bit followed by a response by everyone.

In the evening we had popcorn and sat around talking a long time. They are really a neat couple in that they are very busy, but they take time to talk to us and listen to us. He has mentioned several times how much they enjoyed the year they were in Upper Volta with USAID. It made them realize (among other things) how lucky missionaries are in the number of things they can get done. They really enjoyed the people there and think they are much more honest than the usual Zairois. Of course they also enjoyed the swimming pool that came with the house where they lived. It seemed strange that during that year their son, Niels, was at boarding school in Tanger, Morocco, of all places.

At the dinner table with Carrol and Tove French.  The only picture where the two of us appear together on the entire trip.

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[1] All the time we were in Nigeria we were worried about high velocity accidents.  And we did not know that from Nigeria south HIV-AIDS was already widespread so that blood infusion after an accident would have been very risky as well.