43. Zaire, Kolwezi - Kasaji - Sandoa - Muajinga

The southern portion of our trip

In October 2012 we began posting episodes of this trip that was undertaken between 1982 and 1983.  Our intention was to post it “real time” but 30 years later. Due to a number of circumstances and misfortunes it is now 31 years later but we remind the reader where we were in the trip: we started in Spain and came down the western side of Africa, across the Sahelian countries and then down through  Cameroon, Gabon and Congo (Brazaville) to what was then Zaire.

The next three posts describe a change to our rhythm.  Instead of traveling full time we spend a few weeks volunteering with a United Methodist agricultural missionary from Nebraska, Mr. Carrol French, based in Kolwezi.  At that time land travel was very difficult in Zaire, so Mr. French decided that a good use of our own missionary kid background would be to accompany him and help with the logistics on a much delayed tour of agricultural work in western Shaba (Katanga) province. So we were still traveling, but we had our beds and meals provided in advance and merely helped with the driving and heavy lifting, of which there was a lot.

The historical context of this part of Africa is that it was the center of one of the larger pre-colonial kingdoms, known as Lunda Land.  The kingdom spread over Shaba province in Zaire, Lunda Province in Angola and a large swath of present day Zambia. The king of Lunda Land, the  Mwanti Yaav was (and still is) based in Kapanga, although wherever he is present, is known in Lunda as Musumba (as in Airforce 1).  We were told that the Mwanti Yaav was the full brother of   Moise Tchombe of Katanga separatist fame[1]. This Mwanti Yaav was also “on the other side” during the war in 1977, which was put down by Moroccan forces in the name of Mobutu. Many years later Dan had a Masters student from the Lunda speaking part of Zambia that considered the Mwanti Yaav to be his king. 

Finally, the area is an old center of Methodist Church work with Lundas in all three countries. Therefore the schools and hospitals we visited were the center of a once thriving missionary complex.  As we understand it, this complex survived independence and the war of Katangan secession in the 60s, but went into decline in the 70s.  The 1977 war was a major turning point with one missionary doctor executed by the rebels, and many others in considerable danger. In retrospect we came along only 5 years after this happened so much of it was still fresh.

A sketech we sent with the original journal.

Kolwezi, Zaire. Monday, 11 April, 1983

(HELENA) I went out to buy bread, six loaves, and spent the morning slicing it in very thin slices and toasting it to take on the trip. At the same time Levi was in the kitchen making cookies for the trip and Mrs. French was getting food and other things together, so we were stumbling over each other.

The four of us were invited over for dinner tonight at the home of the evan­gelist we met in Luena the day we arrived in Kolwezi. It seemed rather inconvenient because we were in the midst of travel preparations, but the Frenches once again showed the quality of being able to relax and visit in spite of pressures. What a feast! It was rather em­barrassing because they have six children, and I am sure that their income is not all that sumptuous. After dinner the children all paraded out one by one to be introduced. Let’s see if I can remember everything we had: rice (with what I know are expensive raisins); fufu; delicious salad of cabbage, tomatoes, CANNED peas, eggs (very expensive, also) and mayonnaise; fish; two kinds of beef; and manioc greens. THEN came dessert: pineapple, boiled peanuts, South African apples (a BIG treat around here) and finally cookies to go along with the coffee. Whew!

Kolwezi--Kasadji, Tuesday, April 12, 1983

(DAN) We were ready to load by 0800, but it took us another two hours to get off. There will be no gasoline available for purchase on this trip except perhaps in Kapanga, so we emptied a barrel of gasoline into tanks. “Miss Ruth”, the Land Rover, has an interesting history. We had known that the Danish Church had bought it used, and that some Danish youth had driven it down across the desert to Kinshasa. In its former life it was a rally vehicle used for racing in North Africa. This explains the rather professional outfitting job. It has racks on the side that accommodate six 20 liter “jerry cans” and racks in front to ac­commodate four more. It has two 65 liter auxiliary tanks which is nice since the main tank has a hole and we cannot find the key to the cap anyway. Even without the main tank, we left the property with 290 liters of gas on board. There are five of us making the tour--Pastor Mwema who has a position of responsibility in agriculture in the conference; Ilunga, the Kasai majordomo, Mr. French, Helena, and I. Ilunga and I will share the driving. I drove the first 150 kms or four hours, and he the rest of today’s stretch.

Dan loading Miss Ruth for the trip

All of the river valleys run north-south and are nearly parallel. We cut across several wide valleys and ridges and saw as much variation in one day as we saw the several days in the train. It was fun to be traveling with Mr. French who is a range scientist and talk about what we saw. One phenomenon we would like to know more about is some flat, sandy uplands. There is an impervious pan covered by the sand that is said to have come from the Kalahari. In these areas the grass is shorter and there are no trees, and the road becomes very sandy. Mr. French says that these sandy patches extend up into Central Africa which might explain some of the abrupt grass-forest changes we have seen.

During the day we also went through some dry forests that also had sandy soil, but probably not the clay pans. The area continues to have a very low population, a small village every 20 kms or so. However Mr. French says that since the war people have simply stopped cultivating along the roads because of the soldiers. That helps explain our having seen nothing but manioc here in Zaire.

Somewhere during the afternoon we crossed the path that Livingston took on one of his expeditions. There is an ancient slaving station that he passed through, and if we have time on our return, we may go check it out. We passed through Mutchatcha where the hospital truck had broken down. It is a railroad town with a typical eucalyptus forest, but it was also the farthest east the rebels got in 1977, and the buildings are still all shot up.

We stayed at the Catholic mission in Kasaji. There are three men from the U.S. there -- a priest, a brother, and a seminarian. Since we shall be here three days on our way back through, we shall describe the place better.

Kasaji -Sandoa, Zaire, Wednesday, 13 April, 1983

(HELENA) I awakened to the sound of the church bells, but thinking that I had missed the chance to go to mass, I decided to lie in bed a little longer. I was a bit embarrassed when the bells rang again, meaning that I could have made it after all. So Dan and I just presented ourselves at breakfast time. Two of the men had to eat and leave, but we talked quite a while with the seminarian.

Mr. French had to talk with Brother Justin about a short course they want to have next week, and Miss Ruth’s brakes had to be worked on, so Dan and I spent a rather lazy morning. Apparently Justin has contact with the U. Methodist radio network, so he told the folks in Sandoa that we would be arriving that afternoon. We finally left Kasaji after lunch.

Dan drove most of the way, in fact all the way to Sandoa itself. All along the way Mr. French kept us entertained with stories about what had happened at this or that curve on that stretch of the road. At the very start the road was nice and wide and pretty smooth going. Mr. French told us that years ago when Moise Tshombe was the presidente of Katanga, he was going to pave the road all the way up to Kapanga where he had his home. He died and several things have happened to keep the road from being completed, so now there are only patches of the improved road in with the old, rather poor road. Most of the way it went through fairly flat savannah, but the road was often shaded by trees. I am still impressed with the neat-as-a-pin villages we pass through with the neatly thatched houses that are often surrounded by a neat hedge and a well-kept flower garden. I mentioned it to Mr. French, and he is so accustomed to it that he had never thought it remarkable.

At Sandoa, Dan handed the wheel over to Ilunga. The U. Methodist station is actually across the river and 17 kms farther on. And what a 17 kms! A lot of it is on top of a dike that is dotted with rain holes. It was not rough going except where a stream would cross the road and the ditch had been filled in with rocks and small logs; in fact it was rather relaxing to roll along from hole to hole. Dan observed that the holes were even conveni­ently placed on alternate sides of the road, providing for a nice lulling motion. (First gear most of the way. Hard on the vehicle.)

We were to stay at the house of a Peace Corps couple, but we did things properly and first stopped by the district superintendent’s house. He was away, but his wife invited us in. While we sat there, several people drifted in to greet Mr. French, among them the new director of the agricultural school which we were to visit. The two men accompanying us found friends with whom they could stay, and we went on over to where Diane and Howard live, one of the many houses that used to be inhabited by missionaries. I think that there were as many as seven families here at one time.

Howard had been away from home for three weeks, so only Diane was there. It was kind of embarrassing to show up at her doorstep without knowing her and with only that morning’s radio message to warn her. Fortunately, she was glad to have visitors, and I think she was feeling a bit lonely with her husband gone.

The man who works for them, Moise (who coincidentally worked for the Frenches for years when they lived at Sandoa) had prepared a special meal of chicken, so we talked a lot over that and later as we sat around the Aladdin lamp. They have been having a lot of trouble at the agricultural school there in Sandoa, (actually the school is at Muajinga).  Not least of the problems is that at one time it was a big, well-equipped school run by a good number of missionaries. After they all left (I can never keep track of what happened during what war and who had to be evacuated for what reason) they have felt abandoned. There is no money, no paper, the salaries never arrive on time from Lubumbashi.  Just a very troubled situation.

Diane teaches English and her husband teaches mechanics. Howard is out for his third time, having spent three years in Chad and two in The Gambia. They themselves have inherited a difficult situation because people expect them to do what the missionaries do and do not realize that Peace Corps volunteers do not quite have the same resources.

Muajinga, Zaire, Thursday, 14 April, 1983

(HELENA) Mr. French went over first thing to have a talk with the new director, and a little later Dan and I went over to join them and some of the teachers for a tour of the premises. The most impressive thing is the lane lined with huge mango trees.  Mango season here must be divine, but the Robisons managed to miss it. We saw the big set-up for the mechanics classes, buildings for rabbits, chickens, a big “Butler” grain storage bin, a long building with cattle stalls (complete with built-in blackboards). All that -- EMPTY! At one time, they had cattle producing some fantastic amount of fertilizer every night, but they hadn’t the means of transporting it to where it could be used. Amazingly enough, the buildings are in good shape, but since the soldiers took all of the animals several years ago, there has not been much of a reason to get going again.

 Feed is also hard to get. IF they could only get to producing it.....

We then visited the garden where students do their practical work. Dan said it is the best soil he has seen on this whole trip, and there were some nice-looking seed beds. Unfortunately, all we saw working there were people hired to do the work rather than the students.   In the afternoon Dan, Mr. French and Diane went with the new director to see a few more things. They saw a beautiful patch of irrigated Chinese cabbage. A graduate of the school is working on that, and when Mr. French asked him if he knew that one could cut the leaves off and use the same plant for two years, the response was, “Oh yes.”  However, when Dan stayed on longer to talk with this young man, he very lavishly presented Dan with six beau­tiful, uprooted heads of Chinese cabbage. Hm…  At least it provides Dan with another anecdote.

Vegetable gardens at the agricultural school in Muajinga, Sandoa Zaire.  Note very fertile black soils.

Muajinga, Zaire, Friday, 15 April, 1983

(HELENA) We started off the day by walking over to have a tour of the dispensary. The dispensaire there is one who was in Kolwezi until recently, and Mrs. French had mentioned several times what a good job he did, especially in his good relations with his patients. He showed us a room that had a military patient in it (superficial bullet wound) the store rooms, consultorio, and the chapel that has been turned into a maternity ward with four beds. There were a lot of patients waiting for him, and he had Mr. French look at two particularly bad cases that the dispensaire thought should be taken either to the Methodist hospital in Kapanga, or clear down to Lubumbashi. I do not know about Dan’s reasons, but I stayed far away while that transpired out of sheer chicken-heartedness.  Instead we looked very care­fully at the nicely kept dispensary grounds where the soil is not nearly so good as what we saw yesterday. The dispensaire also had Mr. French look at the citrus trees. He gave some suggestions for the sick trees, but I think he was mainly suggesting that he try avo­cado trees.

From there we walked over to the Machinde school. Diane teaches there also, and she had mentioned that it is going much better than the agricultural-mechanics school (it was well-maintained) but I am afraid that I do not know if it is just a plain high school or what. 

Next on the agenda was the 11:00 assembly for the agriculture students. First Dan talked a little about the good soil they have to work with and he gave a few suggestions; then Mr. French gave a little speech and the students asked questions. In general they thought they should be working on more modern agricultural techniques. I just sat there, but even so I felt frustrated at the inadequacy of giving a talk to such a large group of students. They were quiet and polite, but still I was glad to see Dan stay afterwards to talk with a small group of students.

Mr. French had meetings again in the afternoon, but for once Dan stayed home while I accompanied Diane to the village. She apparently walks or rides her bike in several times a week. It is about a 25 minute medium walk. They have considered moving to the village, but she thinks they have probably waited too long and have gotten spoiled by the conveniences of the mission station house (i.e. running water, even if it is either rain water or water brought by the bucketful from the well). She usually stops by to visit several women, and there are even some Bahai families in the village. Language is a problem as most of the women speak either Lunda or Chokwe, and she speaks only French and some Swahili. This par­ticular time we met two young men friends of hers and walked  through the village with them, stopping to greet several people.

First we stopped to greet Moise and his family. He is the man who works for Diane and Howard. He comes from 9:00 until after lunch and from 17:00 till after supper. For the present his wife is working with him, at first because he had hurt his hand and now be­cause he wants her to learn the trade -- that is, how to work for a wazungu family. There we added his two little girls to our entourage.

A greeting here is not a simple shaking of the hand. When the person whom you are greeting is older or somehow worthy of more respect, you put out your right hand, supported at the elbow by your left hand. (They use the same gesture for giving offering, at least the more traditional people do, or for giving or receiving some object. It continues to be unacceptable to give or receive anything with the left hand. No telling how many persons we have offended because we often forget.) According to Diane, the Lunda shake hands and then use the small clapping motion we have been seeing so much; whereas the Chokwe shake hands and then put their hand to their heart. The latter is similar to the way people shook hands in West Africa.

The village is really a long string of small villages or compounds. One compound we visited, we got to see a lot of the activity that goes with the fishing that people do in the nearby rivers which are more like streams that form part of a swampy region that is pretty well covered by a type of papyrus. An older woman had a charcoal fire going in her babula,  a round metal burner which can be suspended and swung in­stead of having to blow or fan the coals. She had set a round metal rack on top of that. This was covered with a green banana leaf upon which she had put a mess of tiny fresh fish. They were in turn covered by another banana leaf and another rack with a handle. I wish I could have watched longer as I am sure there is much more to the fish-drying process. Then we saw some basket-material fish traps which a man was working on. It is the men who do the basket-weaving here, and they do a beautiful job of it, all the way from vase-shaped baskets for sifting manioc flour to traps for small and large fish.

After several short visits, we made our way to the first “river”. We watched several men bring in their day’s catch. They cannot leave anything out overnight because the soldiers would steal them. We started back along with a couple of the fishermen and a couple of other persons. It was getting a little late, and we had to be back for an 18:30 dinner at the superintendent’s, but it was impossible to speed things up with such a large escort. We had to stop again at the compound where I had seen all of the activity so that one of the men could give us a mess of tiny fishes. Actually, they took up a collection among three men. We also stopped by a compound where a man was carving a hippo tusk. Once we had left everyone at his or her respective houses, we rushed back for the supper date, but even so we were a half an hour late.

Another very special supper with the manioc paste called bukori, chicken sauce, rice, boiled peanuts, manioc greens, and fried bolitas for dessert.

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[1] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moise_Tshombe