With a Little (a Lot) of Help from my Friends

Monday morning Stuart and Taylor drove Pastor John and me to the Lusaka bus station to catch the early bus to the Copperbelt. (Pastor John is the Lusaka District Superintendent and friends of Taylor's will know him as Pastor Mary's husband.) We missed the first 6:30 bus. It had departed on time. We caught the 2nd 6:30 bus. It was running 15 minutes behind. My over-sized bicycle case, a hard shell suitcase, and a plastic storage box were quickly loaded in the undercarriage, and off we went. John's English is about equivalent to my French, and both of us were more interested in sleeping, so there was not much conversation. I read and dozed. After riding about six hours (with a couple rest stops), we were let out on the side of the road not far from the Kafakumba Training Center. In a few minutes a truck arrived to pick us up, The driver was Bill, a retired Delphi automotive engineer from Kokomo. Small world.

The drive from Lusaka to Lubumbashi can be made in a day, but Monday is the worst day of the week to try to cross the border, and we didn't want to be on the road after darkness fell. It gets dark early here. So we laid up at Kafakumba.

Pastor John handed me off to Pastor Robert Malimba, the Bishop's Assistant in Zambia. I had dinner with his family. Robert's wife's name is Teresa, also. Delightful children and delicious African style meal.

Kafakumba is the life's work of John Enright. During the war in Congo, John and Kendra relocated to Zambia and established the Kafakumba Training Center, named after the pastor's school his father had begun in the Congo many years ago. Standing next to his truck, he and I engaged in one of John's famous political/theological Chautauquas. Mostly John talked and I tried occasionally to say something not too stupid. Bottom line is that international aid is poison. John's goal is that the mission station will be self-sufficient and not reliant upon donors in the States.

Tuesday morning Robert and I took a taxi for the two hour drive to the border at Kasumbalesa. On the way we drove through Kitwe, where I worked back in 1999 as the chaplain at Mindolo Ecumenical Foundation, a community development and peace and governance education institution established by the World Council of Churches back in the 60's.

Kasumbalesa is one of those places where Africa stacks up in bureaucratic chaos. Back in the 90's this was a very scary place. Too many guns and not enough order. Now, the immigration process is fairly reasonable, but the queue of trucks begins 10 kilometers out, lining both sides of the road, and especially in the rainy season, it is an obstacle course getting between the big trucks and all the humanity. The good news is that goods are getting into the DRCongo. The bad news is that some of these trucks will be here a month clearing customs. Unfortunately, the most amazing sight in all of Africa (except maybe for Victoria Falls) cannot be photographed. Pulling out a camera here is a good way to lose a camera and/or go to jail.

District Superintendent Joseph Mulongo was there at the Zambian side. He had been traveling for three days to meet me at the border and take over the task of keeping me out of trouble. At customs, my bicycle case was a curiosity, but no one could find a reason to deny it or even charge for it. Most Congolese officials, when they discover that you are a United Methodist pastor, treat you with respect and welcome you to the country.

Mulongo had rented a van to get us to Lubumbashi. The road from Kasumbalesa to Lubumbashi is all new, Chinese built. No problems.

I'm now in the Methodist Guest House in Lubumbashi. I've been staying in this house, run by Mama Odia, since 1991. A lot has changed in the Congo, but this house has not. Once we have all the official papers and provisions we need to go up country, we'll be headed to the mining town of Tenke.

Bob
Lubumbashi