Life in the Submarine - The Mill Hill Missionaries

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dictionary too, plus a wealth of other material all produced by a Belgian SacredHeart missionary called Gustave Hulstaert, a linguistic genious. Thanks to hisuntiring efforts at collecting linguistic and cultural data, ever since the 1930’s,and his multifaceted scientific ability, the language of the Mongo people hasbecome one of the best documented and most fully analysed in the whole ofAfrica.Right in the middle of this rather painful learning process, after only a fewweeks at Waka, Piet Korse invited me to accompany him on a week’s pastoraltour of a number of villages in the Bolima area, a journey ‘into the interior’ asthe expression went. Piet obviously had decided that a baptism of fire – ‘sinkor swim’ – would do me a world of good and would provide an excellentopportunity to continue the learning process at the grassroots. So off we wentsome distance along the road linking Waka to Baringa. I had thought of stayingin the shadows of Piet in order to learn from his experience since this was myfirst exposure to such a ‘safari’. But Piet had other ideas. When we arrived atthe first village – Bolima Ekonda was the name, I think – he introduced me tothe local catechist and then left me there, whilst he himself continued to thenext village. “I’ll come and collect you tomorrow afternoon…..” So there I was,with hardly a word of Lomongo, feeling as inadequate as I will ever feel. I don’tremember what happened next morning, but I must have struggled through thetext of the Mass with the help of the catechist – reading a text in a Bantulanguage usually is not difficult, but to be understood at all you have to masterthe tonal system, an altogether more arduous undertaking.Anyway, I survived this ‘existential crisis’. After roughly three months I had a fairsmattering of the language and could make myself understood. I began to feelmore at ease and from then on a real ‘love story’ started to develop: I took aprofound liking both to the people and the forest. An enduring interest ineverything African, culture and inculturation, as well as in trees and plants, anda passion for orchids was the result.A few storiesAlthough I only spent just over a year in Waka I have many vivid memories ofthe first missionary experience. A few cameo’s.The apprehension and excitement of going on my first weekend trip into theinterior on my own, sleeping in the house of the headmaster, watching the
villagers keeping the elephantsat bay that evening and findinghuge elephant footprints allaround the house the nextmorning.And an outbreak of smallpox inWaka – it must have been oneof the last in Africa, becausesomewhere in the 70’s theWHO announced that thedisease had been eradicatedworldwide. Several people diedElephant huntinga horrible death, among themthe only fully qualified D6 teacher at the mission primary school, a young mancalled Jean-Paul Bokungu. I felt quite heroic at the time of the burial when noone dared to touch the coffin for fear of contamination and Marinus Boonmanand myself alone had to lower the coffin into the grave.‘Crestfallen’ would be the bestway to describe my feelingswhen through inexperienceand a wrong move I gothopelessly stuck driving theancient Volkswagen Kombithrough the marshesseparating Waka from theLifumba area. I had been sentto collect the dead body of aparishioner whose family hadrequested a transfer toBasankusu. Maybe the firstencounter with heart rending African wailing had also affected my nerves!Little did I know then that this would be the first of many such experiences oftravel misery in years to come.The technological revolution to hit even the remotest outpost of the rainforestat the time was the transistor radio. The short wave news broadcasts,especially BBC Worldservice, were the only way to keep up with what was goingon above and beyond the rainforest canopy. The Americans were preparing theApollo Moon landing at the time. I happened to be on safari at Ndeke, a large
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Life in the Submarine - The Mill Hill Missionaries

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