MY FIRST MISSIONARY EXPERIENCE IN A FOREIGN COUNTRY

I would like, in the following paragraphs, to share in brief my first missionary experience in Democratic Republic of Congo (RDC).

I am a Consolata Missionary student, Kenyan, soon starting fourth-year theology in DRC. I started my formation in Kenya at Langata, where I completed my formation at philosophical level, before joining novitiate at Sagana. After the novitiate year, I was sent to DRC to continue with my formation at theological level. Before the destinations were given, we were given the opportunity to propose three formation houses among which one would be chosen for each one of us. When the Novice Master announced the destinations, I was shocked, because I was send to DRC, and yet it wasn’t among the three choices I had proposed. It was the fourth choice, which we had nicknamed “obedience choice”. In my life, I had never ever thought of going to DRC, and above all of learning French, Lingala. All the same, I accepted the fact and took it positively.

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It was on 18^th august 2008, when I came to DRC. The very first thing I had to do was to learn French, in order to be able to communicate. But, attention! Being in a foreign country, the aim is not only to learn the language. There are so many other things which come in: culture, lifestyle, history... In short, the main aim is to insert oneself into the new reality.

Before coming to DRC, I had heard so many negative things being said about this country. To a certain extent, what was being said was true, but most of it was an exaggeration. For example, I had heard it being said that in DRC there were neither vehicles nor roads…that the Congolese were only pygmies(very short people)…that the people of DRC lived in the forest, in a natural state, where the most powerful dominate at the detriment of the weak…that in DRC there wasn’t but war…

After learning that I was to go to DRC, I decided to “bracket off” all that information I had received about this country, regardless of whether it was true or not. I said to myself: “Am going to start afresh, am going to approach the Congolese reality as it will reveal itself to me”. This was in order to avoid the prejudices that I had had.

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When I arrived in DRC, I was shocked! It was very hot. As I alighted at N’djili International Airport, I immediately started sweating. It was very cloudy, but very hot. A lot of fear clouded my face. But that wasn’t all. Wonders greater than Jonah were on the way! The people I encountered at the airport were very aggressive and very inhuman. I was almost losing my luggage…Thank God that they never slapped me, it was a narrow escape! I had a very shocking experience so much so that the prejudices I had “bracketed off” started to “un-bracket themselves”… I said to myself: “Yeah! The Congolese live in a state of nature where the strongest dominate…war…, yeah! They have just confirmed what I heard!”

I came to learn with time that the Congolese were very good and welcoming people. I learned that those people who had menaced me at the airport were just a group of bandits and thieves who enter into the airport in the name of porters. I also came to discover that in DRC there were not only the pygmies (very short people: which are in fact, just a very small tribe), but also other tribes. I was even surprised to find that at the community where I was send, the majority of the Congolese were taller than me!

The Theological Community of Joseph Allamano welcomed me very well, and after some days, I started to learn French. The first thing that was done was to change my name from “John” to “Jean”. I was no longer going to introduce myself “My name is John”, instead, “Je m’appelle Jean”, what would become my daily hymn.  The second thing was to teach me how to pronounce my new name “Jean”, a very difficult task for a “poor English speaker”… I said to myself: “firstly, they almost slapped me at the airport…secondly; they have changed my name from “John” to “Jean”, the name I knew since my childhood…thirdly, they want on top of all that, that I pronounce my name differently!”…

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The very first French lesson was about self-introduction. The teacher (Mr. Cilo) never knew English, so everything was to be done in French. Where words couldn’t work, gestures intervened. The teacher could start, while pointing at himself: “Je m’appelle Cilo (my name is Cilo)”. Then, pointing at me: “et toi (and you?)”. Then, not knowing what all that meant, instead of responding “Je m’appelle Jean” (my name is John), I could just repeat the whole phrase: “Je m’appelle Cilo, et toi?” The teacher could get annoyed.

When the French lessons of that day were over, my colleague (Luke) and I went to have a walk around in the estate. As we were walking along the streets of Kinshasa, we came across some writings in Lingala: “Epekisami kubwaka matiti hawa!” Without knowing what it meant, we tried to interpret it. But we had no idea of Lingala. So we used the notion we had of Swahili, since we saw the words “Epekisami”, “matiti” and “hawa” of which we could guess there meanings in Swahili. “Epekisami” would have the notion of “Kuepa(to escape)” “Matiti” would mean “teats” and “hawa” could mean “here”. The other word (kubwaka) was a bit difficult to interpret. So we tried to interpret the whole phrase: “Epeni(escape), mtashikwashikwa matiti hapa!” With that comprehension, we ran immediately from that corner, fearing to be “shikwashikwared” our “matiti”. We were happy that we were starting to “understand” the local language (Lingala). So we continued our way. When we returned home in the evening, we tried to explain to the community all what we encountered, even the phrase we were able to interpret. The community laughed at as, because the correct translation was “No dumping!” In Lingala “matiti” means “rubbish” or “takataka”. So in Swahili, its correct translation would be “Hakuna kutupa takataka hapa!”

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In the second day, the teacher came to teach us French sounds. Among other sounds, there are two which are very special, and very different from the ones of English: “u” and “r”. In order to be able to pronounce the sound “u”, the teacher made me undergo a very tough mouth exercise. I had to form my lips in such a way that I was able to whistle, and then from that very position, I had to protrude them as much as possible. The last step was, while retaining that very position, to make sure that the lips were round. It’s only at that position that I was able to pronounce the sound “u”. The same, the sound “r” needed some prior exercises, probably tougher than those of the sound “u”. The sound “r” is pronounced in a snoring manner. In fact, one can mistaken the one who is pronouncing it with a sleeping-snoring-drunkard person; or one might think that the one who is pronouncing it is trying to clear a certain frog stuck in gorge. The lessons of that day were over.

When it was evening, we went to the chapel to pray the vespers. When it reached to the doxology “Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit, as it was in the beginning is now and ever shall be world without end. Amen (Gloire au Père et au Fils et au Saint-Esprit, au Dieu qui est, qui était, et qui vient, pour les siècles des siècles, amen). In this prayer, I retained only “Gloire au Père et au Fils et au Saint-Esprit”, after that, what followed I heard as if they were saying: “ki-è ki-è ki-è ki-è ki-è ki-è…bla-bla-bla…si-è-k-lè si-è-k-lè si-è-k-lè, amen ».

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The day that followed was a Sunday. We went to the mass. Another shock! The mass took four hours. I was scandalized several times during the mass. As the choir sung Gloria, the mass servers as well as all the priests were dancing around the altar. No! I opened my eyes wide, but despite all that, I never believed them! I wondered whether I was in a Catholic Church or not. I started to doubt my conscience…but what convinced me was that among the priests who were dancing around the altar, three of them were Consolata Missionaries who I knew very well, and with whom we had gone to the mass. After the homily, the people clapped their hands as a sign of appreciation to the preacher. I asked myself: “Ah! How can we give a standing ovation to a priest in the church as if we were in a political rally?” Then the time of offerings came. It was like a drama. Everybody took his or her offering while dancing. All that appeared strange to me, until I came to learn later that I was participating in a Lingala mass celebrated according to the Zairian rite.

After the mass, we went out, and some Christians came to greet us. They could speak to me, but I was just staring at them as if I was deaf.  Neither did I understand what they were saying nor did I know how to respond. Even children were laughing at me. They could not understand how a big man like me could not speak French. They were scandalized!

Those are just but a very few examples to show a bit how all the reality and all things around me appeared strange.

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My experience of learning French taught me a lot: that leaning a new language needs a lot of humility, patience, an open spirit of learning and of accepting corrections, personal effort and will. Now I see the value of a proverb in Kiyaka(one of the local languages in RDC) :“Dinga batu kimvuma” that is to say “the language of a people is a richness”. I feel very free with the Congolese. They welcome me because I speak their language(French, Lingala); I eat their food: fufu(ugali of cassava), pondu(cassava leaves), kwanga(fermented cassava), etc; and I wear their clothes(kitenge). Above all, I share their spirit. As the saying goes: “when you go to Rome, do as the Romans do”. It seems to me that I went to Congo, and did as the Congolese do.

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“May God bless all those who have accompanied me in my vocational journey up to this far, those who helped me to insert myself into the Congolese culture and spirit, those who continue to help me, and all those who will help me in the future. Amen!”

 

John Kioko Mwana’a Mwania

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