Cultural Conundrum

As he removed the bandage, I cringed at the large open wound that covered most of Muambi’s shin. He was a tall, strong young man, but now he could barely walk with the help of a crutch. He told us the progression: In March, a railroad tie had fallen on his leg while he was at work constructing a building. It was not a large wound, and he assumed it would get better in a few weeks. But it didn’t; the wound got bigger and more painful. In late April, Muambi’s father, Malandi, came to us to ask for help. Malandi is our night guard, and part of his work contract is that we will cover medical expenses for his dependents. But because Muambi is nearly 30 years old with three children of his own, we did not want to set the precedent of taking on all of his medical expenses. So, we gave a contribution to them for the purpose of going to the doctor or getting medicine, and affirmed that we agreed he should get treatment. In late May, I asked our night guard how his son was doing. “Not good” was the reply. “He can’t walk. The wound has not healed. We have a friend who is a pharmacist who has been treating it at home, and he said he has tetanus. We don’t know what to do.” I told him that I would go see him. The next day, I happened to be with Sankara, a Congolese friend who is a nurse. I told him about Muambi’s situation, and he suggested that we go together to see him. And so here we are, sitting in the lush valley of their compound, with Sankara assessing what should be done about the wound. Sankara was able to confirm that he did NOT have tetanus, but that the wound was infected.

Muambi and his father confirmed that they wanted him to go to the hospital and get treatment. I asked which hospital they wanted to go to, and they said that they preferred to go to PAX, which is the Presbyterian clinic in town. I came home and called Bob, who was traveling at the time. We decided we would cover the costs for him to see the doctor and get tested and treated for infections. The following day, I met Muambi at PAX and accompanied him to see the doctor, get the wound cleaned, and get some antibiotics and other medicines. We paid about $13 for all of that – a modestly significant sum for medical treatment in Kasai. The doctor told him to come to the clinic each day for a week to get the wound cleaned.

In early June, a few days after going to the clinic, I saw Muambi’s wife on the road and asked how he was doing. “Not too well. His leg swelled up after going to the clinic, so he gave up going to get the wound cleaned.” That evening, I asked Malandi, Muambi’s father, about the situation when he came to our house for work. “Muambi’s leg swelled up after going to the clinic, and he was not able to climb the hill to the main road to go to the clinic for cleaning the wound. A couple of days ago, someone came to our home who told us that this wound was not an accident. Someone cursed him with nkuba. ‘You will never be able to heal this wound with Western medicine.’ he told us, ‘You need to find a traditional healer who is able to heal these types of wounds.’” I started to get frustrated. But Malandi continued “This visitor recommended someone, and he came to see us. He said that he can heal the wound, but he will charge $150 and 2 chickens. We hope that you will help us to cover this expense because we can’t afford it ourselves.”

I was getting angry now. “You didn’t even follow the doctor’s instruction for a week, and are already pursuing this other path of treatment?! You waited for 2 months without seeing a doctor. Now that you’ve seen one, you give up on the treatment immediately?” “We didn’t know the real cause,” Malandi responded, “We couldn’t discern ourselves that it was nkuba. It was only when this visitor came and told us that we realized what should be done. I know that we have different ways of seeing things, and your culture does not believe in nkuba. As Africans we know that sometimes people use mystical powers to attack someone – because of jealousy or as punishment for something they have done. the healer has already started the treatment; he mixed up a solution and put it on the wound, then put his lips on the wound and sucked until a large black bug about the size of my finger came out. He will come tomorrow morning to treat him again. You could come and see for yourself.” Malandi had been explaining patiently, like a father trying to help his child understand a foreign concept. Now he got defensive “If we had followed the western medicine instructions, they would have amputated the leg! We don’t want that to happen.”

I had heard nothing about a need to amputate, and was frustrated that he was believing that rumor. The following morning I had to leave early for a meeting, so was not able to take him up on his offer of coming to see the traditional healer. I told him that we had agreed to help him get treatment at PAX, but were disappointed that they did not follow through. They were on their own now if they wanted to continue with the traditional treatment for nkuba. We parted, both rather exasperated.
Nkuba is a Kasai term that refers to a tribe of people (the Bakuba), but also means “thunder”. The Bakuba are believed to have power to kill or wound people remotely – e.g. to put a curse on them. The death usually happens during a storm and somehow by the storm– hence the reference to thunder. There are different terms based on different regional tribes and the specific “medicine” or power that they use. In the west we know the existence of the scientifically verifiable physical world (including germs, wind, etc.) Most Christians also believe in the existence of a spiritual world, including angels and demons. But as far as I know, in English we don’t have good terms or concepts for much in between. Dozens of times we have heard reports of people being killed or debilitated by nkuba or something similar. This is not just a phenomenon that happens “deep in the bush” or among uneducated or unchurched people. Malandi, our guard, is an elder in his local Presbyterian congregation. His conclusion was that some people were jealous of his son Muambi because he had a job and a family and had good character that they could not fault. And, because he was in a Christian family, he would not retaliate with mystical powers. That is why they sent this nkuba, or “thunder medicine” to attack him.

So – what do we do? I talked to some colleagues in Kananga to understand more about nkuba. I heard that the pastor of Malandi’s congregation had experience in “freeing” people from nkuba and responding in a pastoral and Biblical way, so I encouraged Malandi to talk to his pastor. When Bob returned from his trip in mid June, we sat with Malandi and heard again his perspective, but reiterated that we were not going to help with the expenses of this traditional healer. Bob challenged him “Do you think that this nkuba is stronger than God?”

Still concerned about Muambi’s prognosis, we went to visit him around the end of June. The wound still looked big and ugly, but they said that it was scabbing over and getting better. The other leg, however, was grossly swollen. He was not able to walk at all now. What started as a significant problem had gotten worse. He was not able to work now, and his family was hungry. We prayed for him and gave them some money for food. We have asked after him periodically this month, and there does not seem to be much progress.

Muambi, his wife Marie and young child,
and Bob, holding “baby Bob” in 2011 at their home

This is just one incident that demonstrates the cultural dissonance that often occurs. These terms are not used in the Tshiluba Bible, exactly, but could be considered sorcery. Trained pastors here would emphatically agree that God does not approve of the use of sorcery. But most would also agree that it indeed exists.  Thus, the question – How do you respond to people who are apparently victims of nkuba in a way that honors the culture, demonstrates love, and also emphasizes the power of God and allegiance to Him alone? Here is where we live and breathe…and struggle to find answers.

Jingling Bracelets

“In our culture, we have a saying”, explained Mamu Luta. “‘one bracelet doesn’t jingle’. Women want to wear several metal bracelets at once so that they will make a sound. When we work together, we make a beautiful ‘sound’, But alone, we are nothing to be proud of.” She was presenting a banner to the Sheppards and Lapsley presbytery celebrating ten years of partnership with the Nganza and Tshibashi presbyteries in Congo. On the banner was a painting of a woman, showing one arm with several bracelets, and the other arm hiding because it only had one bracelet.

Last week I had the privilege of traveling for a couple of days with the Tshibashi and Nganza presbyteries as they hosted two representatives of the Sheppards and Lapsley presbytery from Alabama, helping out with translation. It was incredible to see our colleagues pull out all the stops in welcoming and caring for their visitors. On the first day of the visit, both presbyteries held a joint worship service. It was remarkably short by Congo standards (just one hour), but there was dancing and joy such as I have rarely seen in Congo. It has been several years since members of the Alabama presbytery had been able to come to Congo, so this was a much-anticipated visit.

Nganza and Tshibashi presbyteries cover a wide area near Kananga, and it was significantly meaningful to each of the parishes for the visitors to see their church. So, each day the leadership here sought to introduce their visitors to as many churches, schools, and activities as possible. I’m sure that as we lurched along over Congo’s notorious dusty roads in the bright sun, it began to feel like a blur to Billy and Lynn. But they valiantly and gracefully persevered. We heard a similar message over and over again in so many places “This school now has an office and latrines because of the partnership. We got these school benches or church benches through the presbytery partnership. Roof sheets for that church were given through the partnership. The land for this office/school/church was purchased with help from Sheppards and Lapsley.” The variety of things that have been accomplished in the last 10 years is remarkable. And what impressed me most is that nearly all the churches in the two presbyteries had received something significant, according to their need. In Congo it might be tempting to focus the attention on the churches of the leadership or on those that were largest. But a joint team of both presbyteries has tried to include everyone in this partnership, as challenging as that is. This means there are still plenty of needs and priorities of things to be done, but it does appear that they are on the right path. I don’t think that there were any complete churches or schools built with partnership funds, which leaves a significant (and perhaps good) challenge in the hands of the Congolese to not depend completely on their US partners.

Most of the church buildings we pulled up to would have palm branches posted 100 yards out as a sign of welcome. Women were dancing and singing their greeting out front as soon as they saw the vehicle. All the leaders were assembled, and as soon as we were introduced, the pastor would read a short prepared greeting and word of thanks to the visitors. Often, people would give gifts – hand-crafted wooden objects, horns or skins of animals, or gifts of food. A real outpouring of generosity and expression of thanks for the partnership. At one church they even gave a dish of live termites. Lynn leaned over and asked “And why would we want termites?” “For a snack!” I replied, and she responded “Ah yes. Of course.” I remember driving toward one school, and 200 yards away we could see the flashes of color from the children assembled in rows out front who were waving their folders as they sang a song of welcome. Incredible.

Members sing their greeting to the guests at Kapanda parish. The land for this church
was bought with support through their partnership with Sheppards and Lapsley

Each day over lunch, there was time for discussion with some of the church members and leaders. There were some good exchanges as members on both sides tried to understand the vastly different context of the other. As they shared their typically weekly schedule of worship, The Americans were amazed that one CPC parish gathers every morning at 6:30am for morning worship. The Congolese, in turn, were impressed at the outreach and generosity of this small US congregation. One Congolese elder inquired, “At the end of a Pastor’s term, there is often accusations and vying for position from others who want to be the pastor in his parish.  Does that happen in the U.S.?” Other questions included “How do you keep your youth interested and involved in church?”

From our experience here, cross-cultural church or presbytery partnerships are challenging to do well. In addition, there are about 100 presbyteries in the CPC and only 3 with partnerships, which of course means it is not going to be an effective means of bringing assistance to the church as a whole. This is one reason that we see our role as being a support and resource for the whole church. However, all that said, I do commend the leadership of Tshibashi and Nganza for their hard work to maintain this partnership and and organize a comprehensive visit this week for their guests!

The ‘traveling team”, including Pastor Tshiyoyo, Pastor Mukendi, Billy and Lynn,
along with Mamu Helene on the left (Pastor Mukendi’s wife)

Sunday visit to Ditekemena

Mukendi waved his arms dramatically and added some dancing as he directed the choir. I could tell by the applause and the number of people who stood up to join the dancing that the rag-tag group of kids was a big hit in the church service. This was the Ditekemena choir, made up of kids in the Ditekemena program for street kids. They were wearing all the wrong clothes, but their faces were radiant and they were incredibly attentive and behaved during the service.

After the service, Ruth and I joined the group of kids on their long walk back to the center where they are currently living. All 23 kids made a single-file line and made sure that no one was left behind. One of the older ones helped the others to cross the street one at a time. We headed down a narrow path into the valley and crossed a small river before heading up the other side to the center.

It was a hot afternoon and we were glad for some shade when we arrived. We joined the kids for a big plate of beans and rice for lunch, and then told them we wanted them to teach us some of their games. They proudly showed us the games they had – some home-made, like a game like “mancala” with holes made in the dirt – and others donated by kind folks like a couple of frisbees and a checker board. The older boys played soccer, and I enjoyed sitting with the younger kids cheering them on. Kanku, a young boys who is handicapped (probably because of polio) and had been sick recently, was eager to participate and even sang me a song! Then Tatu Francois, one of the care-takers, told the older boys to take a break and give the younger kids a chance to play. The girls and younger boys played together, and they really went after the ball with gusto!

Ruth and I were sad to have to leave – it felt like a short visit! But we had to get home before dark and had a long walk back across the valley to catch the bus. One of the most striking things about this group of kids is how well-behaved they are, given their difficult backgrounds. They have only been together a little over a month, but they act like family and play together incredibly well. Pastor Manyayi, their director, said that when they first came it was a struggle to get them to obey, but that they have made a dramatic change in a short time. Even so, taking care of 23 kids is not an easy task, and their care-takers are often exhausted by the added strain of sick kids or added responsibilities that come up. Please pray for these kids, that they would really know God’s love and that God would protect and provide for a bright future for them. Pray also for the staff, for God’s peace and strength to fill them as they seek to provide a safe place for the children.

Do you like living in Congo?

We often get asked a variation of this question, and I often find myself mulling over this question in the midst of life in Kananga.

The short answer: yes

The honest answer: some days yes, some days no!

Much of the physical parts of life are challenging. We do not enjoy not having running water, or being kept awake by police arguing just outside our window. The culture is very different from the U.S., and even though we are getting more familiar with it, we still sometimes feel awkward or frustrated. For example, it is accepted and common for people to ask someone for something, especially when they perceive that person to be more wealthy than they are. Culturally, Congolese often feel to us to be demanding and confrontational in the way that they interact…which mean we often feel like people are demanding things from us and then insulting us if we fail to meet their request. “Give me your watch” is a common “request”.  Living around the level of poverty in Congo is often depressing and overwhelming. We do not enjoy seeing malnourished children, students who can’t pay school fees, or going to funerals of young people.

Yet, there are aspects of life in Kananga that we really enjoy. We see how God has helped us in specific and significant ways to build relationships, learn the language, and begin to understand the culture. Both the language and the culture of Kasai stipulate that all children in the community are “our” children—not yours or mine. When someone gets sick or in trouble, there is often a sacrificial response of care and solidarity from friends and family. And among many people, there is a clear realization that God is not distant, but close, even in the midst of the very harsh life circumstances.

I remember visiting Pastor Manyayi and his family one afternoon. The wind picked up and dark clouds rolled in. We voiced concern about getting home, given the storm that seemed about to break. “It won’t rain,” Pastor Manyayi reassured us, “at least not yet. Maybe around 8pm this evening.” We relaxed and enjoyed the rest of our visit. Later that evening after we had returned home, the rain did start, at almost the exact time he had predicted. I love being in a place where people can “read” the signs of the weather, since they have not grown up with the luxury of a daily weather forecast on the radio!

The crux of the matter is that we are convinced that God has called us to serve Him in Congo. We don’t live in Kananga because it is an “enjoyable” place to live, although it can be. And we don’t live in Kananga because we think that we can “fix” the physical or spiritual problems people face there. We make our home in Kananga to be present with people, and share in the hope that God is revealing His love in and through the people of Congo and growing His church. We know that God wants people in Congo to know His incredible love and grace. We are glad to be here as representatives of the church in the U.S. – a sign that God has not forgotten Congo, and neither has the church in the U.S.

A little shopping trip

Please join me today on my weekly shopping trip to town to pick up a few groceries and miscellaneous. You can imagine that shopping in Kananga is a little different than going to the store in the U.S., and rather than just generalize, I’ll try to help you experience with me this week’s outing. It is Tuesday afternoon at about 2:30, and today the sun is hot. So, I put on some sunscreen and take my big yellow umbrella to shade from the sun.

As I get to the end of our street, I greet Mamu Kapinga, one of the women who sells fruit on our corner. She has a few plantains today, and I remember that I need to get plantains for tomorrow’s dinner. I pay her for them (just before someone else asks for them!) and ask her to keep them for me until I come back. Mamu Marie sits next to Mamu Kapinga, and today she has some nice papaya. I greet her, purchase a papaya, and again ask her to keep it for me so that I don’t have extra weight to carry across town. It is nice to have these wonderful women so close who I can get fruit from!

Mamu Marie (right) sells rice, peanuts, and fruit on the corner.

I walk about 1 more kilometer towards town, and pass by the fruit sellers in front of PAX, the clinic connected to CPC. There are a couple of long-necked squash. We love squash, but we still have half a squash at home and it is far to heavy for me to buy at the beginning of my outing. So, I continue on. I am in the middle of downtown now, and walk down the first block scanning the store fronts, looking for material for curtains for our office and a big plastic container to put in the fridge. I don’t see any good options, so decide to move on to the other things on my list. In the next block, I greet Mamu Kuupa Jackie, who has several large baskets of staple foods like rice, beans, onions, and potatoes set up on the sidewalk. “Did you go to Mutoto?” she asks. When I affirm that we did, she says excitedly “I saw a picture of you!”  It turns out that she worships with some of the youth in the choir that traveled with us. Small world! I get a few kilos of onions and a kilo of beans, and then step into the hardware store behind her. I am looking for paint thinner, but not sure what they would call that here. “if you are painting, what do you use to clean the brush?” I ask in Tshiluba. “Tinnare” is the response. Of course! “thinner”, with a French accent! I learn the price, and make a mental note to get some next time.

L-D Power
Kananga’s best hardware store

I start back up the street. On this street, venders sell vegetables displayed on plastic laid out on the sidewalk. This means that you have to carefully weave through the narrow space remaining for pedestrians. “No spinach today?”, I ask a few people. “Tomorrow”, is the response. I find some okra, and get a small bag that will hopefully last us the week.

Avenue Mission, the main road in downtown Kananga –
a mix of shops and sidewalk venders

In the next block, I stop into a small kiosk that sells office supplies. They don’t have the exacto-knife I’m looking for, but I get a roll of packing tape. I then go into a large (by Kananga standards) store that sells imported grocery items and household goods. Almost all stores in Kananga have a counter at the front where the clerk sits and transactions are made. The customer comes to the counter and tells the clerk the items he/she wants to purchase and pays the money (sometimes handing the money through a small hole in the mesh wire shield above the counter). Then the clerk or another employee collects the items and gives them to the customer. Perhaps similar to small-town grocery stores in the 40’s and 50’s in the U.S.? I greet the people at the counter, and purchase a can of milk powder and some instant coffee, but they are out of light bulbs. While I am there, Seur (Sister) Claudine, one of the nuns at the Thabor Catholic center, comes in. We exchange greetings while the clerk is collecting my purchases, and she asks when we will be coming next for a retreat. I was just there last week, but mention that Bob will probably be coming this month or next.

I leave the store, wondering what kind of store would sell light bulbs. I try the office supply kiosk, but they are out. I go on to Gosen, another “dry-goods” store across the street. Score! They have them! I buy a few light bulbs, and as they are handing them to me another customer or bystander admonishes the clerk that he should have put them in a plastic bag for me. “But plastic bags destroy the earth!” I argue, “I always shop with this big bag so that I avoid getting a plastic bag”. He doesn’t seem convinced, but at least the clerk, Jean de Dieu, is happy to accommodate me.

Jean de Dieu, the clerk in Gosen, standing in his store

I have most of the groceries on my list, and my bag is starting to get heavy. I head towards my last stop  - picking up Bob’s suit-coat from the dry-cleaners. There is one drycleaner in Kananga, and this is the first time we are trying it out. This morning I drove to town to pick up a few boxes of Bibles, and tried to pick up the suit-coat on that trip while I had the vehicle. Unfortunately, the storefront where customers drop off and pick up clothes is not the same location where they do the cleaning. Despite the fact that it is Tuesday and they said it would be ready last Saturday, his coat was still in the other location and they asked that I return later in the day. When I reach the store now in the afternoon, I am tired from the heat and my heavy bag. The clerk tells me that Bob’s coat is still at the other location! I am frustrated, and tempted to criticize her – she told me in the morning that she would get the coat, and I had told her the time I would return. This is one of those “culture stress” moments, when I long for the efficiency and relative predictability of the U.S. Fortunately, a man walks in then who appears to be the boss of the dry-cleaners. He perceives the trouble, recognizes me, and makes a phone call to the other location. “Bring that coat over here! This pastor’s wife is standing here waiting. This is not good!” He offers me a chair, and in just a few minutes a man rides up on a motorcycle taxi with Bob’s suit-coat. That was an efficient resolution! I thank them for their help, and head towards home, trying to balance my bag, the umbrella, and the suit-coat.

On the way, I stop to chat with Pastor Tulume, who is sitting under a shade tree on the sidewalk. A little further on, I look for Mambuyi, the woman who gets water for us. She normally sells peanuts and biscuits at this intersection. Our barrel is nearly empty, and I want to ask her to come tomorrow to get water. I can’t find her, so continue towards home and find her husband at the corner where he works repairing bicycles and shoes. I greet him and congratulate them on his brother’s new baby. I ask him if Mambuyi came to the market today. “She did, but she has just left to go see the new baby.” I pass on the message to ask her to come tomorrow. One more block, and we are back on our street where I pick up my papaya and plantains from the women on the corner. “Wow! Did you buy a suit-coat for Bob?” they ask. I laugh, and explain that we just got his coat cleaned. I recognize an old and frail widow who attends the same parish we do, sitting next to Mamu Kapinga. She recognizes me and starts to excitedly declare “I know you! You attend the same parish I do! We are in the same church!” “Yes, yes. I know you, mother,” I say, trying to encourage her that I do recognize her. She asks for some money to buy food, and I give her a small amount that might help with a meal. I continue up the block, greeting the women who sell in the small market in front of our home. Just before reaching home, I buy a few tomatoes from a young girl who is filling in for her mother.

Whew! It is about 4:00 as I reach home. I am grateful to get some cold water and relax a few minutes after my long walk. Thanks for joining me - I hope that you enjoyed meeting some of the friendly faces around Kananga. Now – what do you think? Would you prefer to shop in Kananga, or in the town where you live? Any particular differences of shopping here you like or would struggle with?