With my work finished at the new Hospital, and the two sisters returned to their home, Marie and I returned to Kalene, and were told that Dr. Lee had become rather ill and needed to be transported to a Hospital on the Copper Belt to receive special treatment, so I was the one to take him and his wife there.

The Copper Belt consisted of a few small towns where copper was mined, and was the main source of income for the country of Zambia. It was a long journey of about seven hundred Klms. one way.
After returning to Kalene we were moved to Dr. Lee’s house and did a few odd jobs around the mission, one of which to wash X-ray films
One night, we heard a dog whining outside our door. It was a neighbor’s dog, and was blind in one eye due to the venom of a spitting cobra.
I got dressed and went out with a torch (flash light) to see what the matter was. To my surprise, it had carried one small pup which later died, and that the pup had been seriously eaten by army ants. The dog would run a few yards and return to me, then run again, so I decided to follow it and went several hundred yards into the bush where it had obviously given birth I flashed the light around, but could not see any other pups.
Suddenly, I felt a stinging feeling all over my body! I discovered the ants had made their way all over me, and to make matters worse, I lost track of which way to return home. It took me a while to find out the way home until I heard a dog barking that gave me the direction.
After arriving at the house Marie had to run water in the bath while I sat in the water and she spent a lot of time just picking ants of me. The thing about army ants is that they will not let go. You could pull at them and the head would come off before they would release their grip, hence the water to drown them!
Some time later, the ants came back to take revenge. We were asleep in our bed when I felt stinging on my feet and legs. Quickly I flashed the light around and the floor was completely covered with them. We scrambled to an adjoining room and was surprised that the ants did not come in there, but went throughout the rest of the house. By morning, they had all gone.
A third encounter with these creatures came when an elderly lady called me to inform me that army ants had gotten into her rabbit hutch. I rushed to her assistance to help her and she told me to find some ashes, which I did and we made a small furrow around the hutch, Apparently, they will not cross over ashes. She was so glad to have saved her precious rabbits!
Mr. Chapman had been a builder before he came to Africa, and he came in his retirement to build the large Hospital at Kalene, He told me that there were more buildings to be built in the future, so he decided that it would be a good thing if I took on the job of making bricks.
I had had no experience in that line, but he assured that he would show me how to do it. First thing was to choose a place to lay a foundation of old bricks about twenty feet square, near an extinct anthill. It seems that when ants were building their anthill that they would excrete a chemical in the mud, which made excellent material for bricks. A small shallow area was dug about five feet in diameter, and then, with crowbars and picks, they would chop away at the anthill and toss the anthill clay into the shallow pit. Several open-topped barrels were nearby to hold water.
Some women would keep the barrels full of water, and when the fellows would get enough clay into the pit, water would be added and the fellows would trample the mix into mud with their bare feet making it ready to form into bricks. A small wooden mold was used to shape the bricks, which were then laid carefully in rows to dry. They were to make nine hundred bricks a day. The bricks would then dry in the sun for three days.
After the bricks were dry, the building of the Kiln would begin. First, the fireboxes were to be built. They were made from the new dry bricks. The fireboxes were about two and a half feet wide at the bottom, and narrowed to about eight inches at the top about three feet high and about four feet long to accommodate the lengths of firewood. There were six fireboxes, three on either side of the kiln.
As the workmen began to stack the bricks, a space must be left between the bricks to allow the heat of the fire to penetrate throughout the entire kiln. One kiln would be, about thirty thousand bricks and normally, about ten thousand would be spoiled.
Once the kiln was finished, it would be plastered with a heavy coat of mud to keep the heat from escaping. The fires within the fireboxes would have to be tended three days and three nights. It would be then left for at least a week or so, to cool. It was satisfying to me to see the beautiful pink bricks ready to build with. If one would tap them lightly with a hammer, they would give off a clinking sound indicating a good quality of brick.
But this process would require an abundance of firewood. Laborers would be sent to the bush to cut firewood and I would haul it to the site with my old Land Rover.
I remembered as a child on the farm, that most farmers had an item called a drag sled for transporting farm implements to and from the fields. I decided to build one to see if I could hasten the transport of firewood. I towed it behind the Land Rover, and loaded it with firewood. I had also removed the back seat to make more space in the vehicle. The test would be if the Land Rover would be able to pull it? It worked perfectly. We built three kilns in total.
To be continued

Six months into our stay in Zambia, one of the missionaries received a telegram that I had sent from Mombasa, informing them of our intended journey to Zambia. Now that is one for the Guinness Book of Records!
My old faithful pickup was in bad shape, and a friend said he could get rid of it in the Congo since it was left hand drive.
Someone had a small motorcycle and he wanted to sell it. It needed some welding done on it, so I said I would weld it. I was prepared just incase it might catch fire. It did! Guess who bought it? I repaired it and it served me well for some time.
I had been helping to build a hospital some one hundred and thirty miles away, and there was a lady nurse there who wanted to sell a Land Rover. And she had it pushed by some Africans for several miles to get it home to her place. I said I would like to buy it, so now I needed to get it running.
I stripped the radiator out and dismantled the front of the engine and after studying some timing marks on the timing chain belt. I discovered that it had jumped it’s timing by 180 degrees. After putting it right, I thought I would try it. It started up without a problem. I re-assembled it and then drove it to Kalene It also had four broken spring leaves, one in each spring. After removing all the springs and replacing all the broken leaves, I now had a good vehicle.
Marie and I were asked if we could spend the week there in the home of two nurses where I had bought the car, while they went to town for rest and supplies, (I had been working on that Hospital anyway, so it was quite convenient for us to do so.)
In the absence of those nurses, we sat in the house in the evening and it was pouring rain. About, nine o-clock, two men appeared at the door with a storm lantern. I opened the door to reveal two soaked men with a sad story to tell.
They spoke enough English to let us know that there was a woman who had been in labor for three days and needed help. I always kept the car full of gas, and I agreed to go and get her. (The hospital, which I was helping to build, was not yet operating, and the two nurses were miles away).
The rain continued to pour down and the roads were in bad shape. The sick lady was about eight miles further into the bush. Marie remained alone in the house.
As we made our way along the road, it became more difficult to see. I suggested that one of the men get out of the car and sit on the spare tire which was located on the hood (bonnet). He would point which way to turn, and we came to a bridge, which was about six inches under fast flowing water.
I ventured the front wheels unto the bridge and all seemed safe, so I drove the car over without incident. The grass was so tall, that I could not see and could only depend on the guy sitting on the hood to direct me.
Finely, the lights of the car revealed a small brick building, about twelve feet square. I entered inside and one wall had many shelves lined with empty bottles. Perhaps from Colonial times, and on the floor lay a tiny woman, naked except for a leso (a piece of cotton about five feet square). Her husband, also very small in stature, sat on the cold cement floor beside her. The feeling of utter hopelessness came over me. What could I do to help this poverty stricken man and his helpless wife? The man was also naked, but for a similar bit of cloth. Neither of them had ever been in any vehicle before.
I picked her up and placed her on the rear seat of the Land Rover, and commenced the unforgettable journey to Kalene Hospital, one hundred and thirty five miles away with torrential rain and muddy road. The husband was so frightened, that he could do nothing for his ailing wife. He clung to the seat and said nothing.
The two men who had been with me, disappeared into the night and I was on my own with the two helpless creatures.
Some twenty miles along the road, a red light appeared on the dash, I knew that it was the Generator light. I grabbed a tire iron, and lifted the hood and tapped on the generator, and was thankful to the Gracious Lord that it started working again. This I had to do several times, the rest of the way to the Hospital.
Things went as well as could be expected until we reached the main road. Hugh heavy trucks had formed deep tracks in the road and I tried to keep the wheels of the Land Rover between the deep tracks, sometimes the rear wheels of the Land Rover would slide in and crawl sideways until the wheels would grip and bounce up from the deep tracks, and the poor suffering soul would fall off the seat, and I would have to stop to get her back on the seat again. The husband was so afraid, that he was totally stiff and useless!
I arrived at the hospital, about six o’clock in the morning, and I lifted the lady unto a stretcher and left her in the hands of the doctors. I went to have breakfast with some friends, and while I was having breakfast, some one knocked on the door and informed me that the lady had died. I felt heartbroken to say the least. Why had I brought her so much trauma and pain only to loose her in the end?
The lady was buried somewhere at Kalene, and the husband and I, started the return journey to the bush where he lived. The rain had ceased, and the road was somewhat better. After several hours, we neared his village. Suddenly, he motioned to me to stop. He jumped out of the vehicle and disappeared into the bush.
In the Lunda tribe, they believed that if someone had died, it was the result of someone else “eating” the dead person’s life. The husband knew that if he returned to his family, he would be blamed for her death. A Witch Doctor would be called to determine who the culprit was. This corrupt heathen practice was common, and many people were beaten or killed at the word of the Witch Doctor, hence the sudden disappearance of the husband. I had been warned that this might happen, but there was little I could do.
To be continued.

We began the last leg of our safari to Kalene mission. Beautiful farmland for a hundred klms. or so, then the sandy road narrowed. Forest flanked the road on either side and the trees resembled old apple trees with out fruit. Miles and miles of it. None of us experienced any illness. Amazing!
We passed a small town called Solwezi, and no hills in sight. Soon we came to the Kabompo River, then to Mwinilunga, pushing on to Ikelange where the children would attend school.
Soon we came to a hill (Kelani Hill) from where we could observe the Congo on the right and Angola to the west. As we descended the rough track, we encountered a horrific accident. A large, heavily loaded lorry with about eight people riding on top, and the driver having lost control, turned over, throwing the people and the goods into the trees. Five of the eight were killed.
I met a brother, whose name was Les White, from Kalene. He was there trying to give first aid to the injured. I hurried on into Kalene and offloaded our things and left Marie and the children there while I hurried back to the scene, and they loaded some of the injured into my pickup, and I transported them into the Kelene Hospital. Corrugated iron sheets, which also were on top of the load, were used as stretchers to retrieve the injured out of the woods.
When things settled a little we went to the home of an elderly couple (Mr. and Mrs. Chapman) and were served tea by a nurse, Ann Bissel. Later we were taken to our new home.
Our new home was not exactly new, and it had been the home where Mr. Nightengale and his wife Dr. Nightengale had been living. In our first night there we surveyed the house and the first room was the kitchen. A long cast iron stove occupied the center and the there was no ceiling. The rafters were blackened with years of smoke. I wondered how Marie would be able to cope.
The bedroom had a door to the outside, with a small opening hung on hinges to allow the cat to enter and exit at will. There were two single beds and due to the very tall Mr. Nightengale, the beds were about two and a half feet high. This posed a minor problem for Marie to negotiate the climb!
One night we heard a loud banging outside the window. I peered out to see what the noise was, and a large bat had gotten inside a steel open topped drum and was unable to get out. I fail to remember anything else about the place.
We soon got to meet all the staff at the hospital. It was a large building and had a large outpatients area. About one thousand patience were seen and cared for every day. There were two doctors at that time . Dr Swain who lived along the path / road from us, and Dr. Lee, a quiet, kind man with rather poor health at that time. Also a number of nurses were kept busy with all manner of unpleasant tasks. I tried to keep busy with cleaning toilets. Yes they were Indian style and every night, a million maggots appeared and the place had to be washed down!
Five days after the accident, the Government ordered post mortem done on the five people who had been killed. Dr. Lee was appointed to do the job. Now I had had little experience in surgery, but since Dr. Lee was not feeling well I proceeded to help him. He sat on a stool and gave me instructions. “Take the knife and start to cut well back of the ear and cut just above the ear , and around the forehead and back along above the other ear and, then here is the saw”…My stomach wanted to protest, but I managed to keep it under control. The stench can only be imagined!
I took the saw and tried to obey instructions. “Don’t cut too deeply” he warned, so I sawed nearly a quarter of an inch deep all around the skull. Then came the test. “Take the chisel” he said, “and insert the blade and give it a sharp crack!” and to my utter surprise, it separated all the way around, and was just like a hinge, and I, pulling the scalp back, exposed the brain!
Next was the chest. I was instructed to make a cut down the center of the Sternum. Then make two cuts about five inches apart, to my right as I faced the body. I inserted my fingers and took a firm hold and again, to my surprise, I opened the chest! It was like a small trapdoor. There inside was the heart and liver as well as other organs, and one of the dead, was a woman with serious ceros sis of the liver. This was common amongst many old women as they made and sold a type of “moonshine” for a living, and so, drank plenty as well.
It should be understood, that my two year sojourn in Zambia, was much more beneficial to me than their benefits of my being there. I was helped immensely, but seemed to be lacking in usefulness most of the time.

Take a moment please and read the following message.

Some years ago, my wife and children and I walked to the K.L.M. desk in Montreal. We were on our way to Africa. The lady was most kind and she tore out the part of the ticket that would take us to Amsterdam. She quickly tagged our luggage and lifted the heavy bags unto the conveyer belt, which carried them to the aircraft. As we started to walk away from the desk, she reminded me that she had not checked my passports. After she looked at them, her countenance grew grim. She remarked “sir, your passports are all expired”!
This story, however, is not about me---It’s about you!
As I look around me, I see millions, either by sudden death, illness, or simply old age, who are indeed, approaching death with no passport or return ticket!
The question is, “are you one of those millions, or are you safe from the eternal prison of hell”?
The good news is the Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ the Messiah, is offering you a valid passport and a free ticket to join Him in eternal Glory! Listen to His gracious words in the Bible. “Behold I stand at the door and knock, If any man hear my voice and opens the door (your heart), I will come in unto him and sup with him and he with me”. These words were spoken as He was outside the unbelieving church of the Laodiceans.
There are lots of other voices out there; medicine, science, religion but the only voice that can save a man's soul, is the voice of Jesus the Redeemer.
It is interesting that the lady at K.L.M. did not ask me if I was a good fellow or if I had done anything bad in my life. She simply wanted a valid passport!
Now I am nobody’s judge, and after all, you were created in the image and likeness of God, so why wouldn’t you be a good person? The problem is, that by one man sinned and so all have the sin nature of that first man (Adam). So that is why you cannot go to Heaven with a sinful nature. You must be reborn into Gods family. This is done, by accepting Jesus as your personal savior.
It has nothing to do with your behavior. You may be good, or you may be bad. The message is, Note Romans 4:18. Therefore as by the offence of one judgment came upon all men to condemnation; even so by the righteousness of one the free gift came upon all men unto justification of life. 19 For as by one man's disobedience many were made sinners, so by the obedience of one shall many be made righteous. Please receive Jesus as your Lord and Savior now.

William Spees, was a brother in law to William Deans. Mrs. Spees and her husband, were a very resourceful family and they never visited Nyankunde without bringing small gifts for the children.
The previous day, the Spees had gone to Uganda, and was able to secure lodging at a section of Makerari University. And we were most comfortable in that situation for the time being.
As soon as we returned to Nyankunde, we gathered our clothing as well as our children. We experienced no trouble on the way but few miles from Nyankunde we crossed a bridge where just a few days later, a large truckload of civilians approached followed by a load of rebels. Twelve Congolese soldiers were there to guard the bridge. A battle ensued, and many lost their lives.
Slowly, we made it to Rethy where our two elder children had been attending boarding school, and soon we were on our way to Uganda.
Uganda is a beautiful country. I remember the torrential rains Also, I remember at least one of our new tires had blown out. Mrs. Wolcott was with us amongst others, but I can’t remember who they were! Perhaps the Wolcott children were with us as well.
Yosia Butso, an African who lived with his family at Nyankunde, was the Legal Rep. for all Emanuel Mission’s various stations. Some days later he made his way to Uganda and joined the missionaries there. I remember him describing how he crossed the Semaliki River with water up to his waist. This river was the border between Uganda and Congo.
Some sickening stories were later to emerge, and one was concerning one of Butso’s sons. This son was lined up to be shot by firing squad several times, but was set free each time. However, as he was getting a lift back home in a pickup truck. He was sitting on the tailgate when it suddenly opened. The lad fell off, and striking his head on a large rock, was killed! Not a happy time for so many Africans.
We also heard that some missionaries had been killed. The whole Sharp family, mentioned above. were among them.
The time had now come, and by the good work of Bill Spees, place had been secured for us in far away Zambia. At the same time, we learned that a school for Rethy kids, had been opened in neighboring Kenya at a town called Elderet.
This posed a dilemma for me as I did not wish to go to Zambia, leaving two children behind. We spent the night at that school and we were torn by having to leave the two eldest children behind. As you can imagine, they were again distraught with our decision. It was a trying time as it seemed to me, I was becoming a burden
We had been given an old pickup, an International, with auto transmission by the MacDowells, and with much pain, we drove the long dusty road to Mombasa, a Kenya costal town, where our personal affects (junk) were to arrive by ship.
We spotted a telephone booth on the veranda of the Manor Hotel, and made a call to a brother called McKinley. The McKinley Family, were a wonderful family and we enjoyed much fellowship with them.
McKinley suggested we stay at the Palm Hotel, and we took his advice. The next day he had located an apartment off the north side of the Island of Mombasa, which was joined to the mainland, by a floating bridge .We settled there intending to pick up our things at the Port, and be on our way.
I proceeded to the Custom Office to legalize our entry into Kenya and the Custom officers, (English men at that time), seized our old truck! I was now on foot. After some days, I decided to try to cash a check at the Standard Bank and to my joy, they cashed it without a question. I then built a box on the truck, and placed an old mattress on top of the personal effects (four forty five gallon drums) so the children would ride reasonably comfortable.
Walking near the Bank, I met a white man who was called Harris. I learned that he managed an A.I.M. guesthouse on the south side of Mombasa Island, assessable only and as I told him our plans, a wonderful thing happened. He informed me that a storm had washed out the only bridge and it would take a month to repair it!
The next time I met him in the town, he informed me that the school at Elderet had to close for some reason, and I should go and pick up my children! This was incredibly good news.
Since my story is not well coordinated, I can’t remember if the truck was still in customs, but I do remember going to get the children and bringing them to Mombasa by bus. There were plenty of chickens and other goods on board to be sold in the town by the locals. An interesting experience in itself.
They did not charge us any extra money for our extended stay in that apartment. Perhaps McKinley paid for it, I don’t know, but it was now time to start the long, (five days) journey to Zambia.
As we began our journey, I missed a turn in the road and had to turn around. It was then that I discovered that the truck had only one gear---drive! I guess it was an indication that we were not to turn back. That old truck had had retreads on it, and after many miles, one tread would come off and left us to travel with a bald tire. This happened several times.
We made our way to the border of Tanzania and I reported at the Police Station in Tanga, and got a dressing down because I left the truck running while I was inside.
Later, we came to a “Tented Camp” and decided to stay there that night. It was a wonderful place, with a large tent for dining as well as sleeping tents with lanterns, an even small outside toilets.
In the morning, we continued on, and the next town that was Ngorongoro. I met a young Asian chap at a Service Station and I told him of the problem with the Transmission, so he said he would look at it, and proceeded to drive it up unto a makeshift ramp. In ten minutes or so, he backed the truck off the ramp and the problem was repaired. It had simply needed a minor adjustment.
The next town was Mbeya near the Zambian border. We rested there at a Guest House, and then the twisty road climbed up a steep hillside to a plateau, and we were soon in Zambia.
As the road rushed under the wheels, we made good time and the next town was Upper Hill. We now had to turn north to a town called Lusaka about fifty klms. and then still further on another fifty klms. to Ndola, and thinking it was Sunday we went to look for the Assembly, and found it, and an African chap was raking leaves. We asked what time the service started and he informed us that it was Saturday! We had lost track of the Days!
Once we found out it was Saturday, I made for the Bank. Again, I was able to cash a check at Barclays Bank, and we all had something good to eat.
We had yet another stretch to Chingola. There was a Brethren Guest House there and we stayed a few days. I believe it was managed by a Mrs. Turner. We still had about six hundred klms. to go to reach our destination, which was Kalene Mission situated a few klms, from the Congo on the north and a few klms. from Angola on the west. A long way from Halifax, Canada!

Greetings. My name is Ewen (Bud) Allison MacDougall, and was born into this world on June 18th. 1931. I married Marie Gallant on May 7th. 1955. Marie was a double amputee, with much stamina, and did her own housework with zeal. I became a “born again” Christian on April 1st. 1956. Three days later Marie gave birth to our firstborn---a girl. We named her Janet Marie. Three other children followed. All boys, Ronald James, Then Harold Reginald, and finely, for the time being, Bryan Austin.
It was some years later that I climbed up the short steps of a small Chapel where we had been attending for some years, and with trembling knees, I approached the elders of that chapel.
I feebly explained to the Elders that I had a desire to serve the Lord in Africa as a maintenance man to assist other missionaries with building and repair etc. at a mission station called “Nyankunde” so as to relieve them for more important missionary outreach.
By now, we had four children, and looking back, I wonder what went through the minds of those Elders and many others as they commended and blessed us as we began what seemed to be the impossible.
A rebellion was raging in the interior of the Belgian Congo, and we were advised not to go, but it was destined to be, so we continued with commendation in hand, and made our way to Prince Edward Island, the birthplace of both Marie and me.
It was winter when we headed to Morell, (my mother’s village) to say “Good-by” to my elderly mother and on the way, we had an accident that slowed our progress for some time, as we all were taken to hospital and the old car to the junk!
Marie lost her front teeth and Janet had twenty stitches in her scalp I also had a few in my eyebrow and five broken ribs, although I didn’t know that till many years later!
My memory fails to remember how much time lapsed but finely that day came. I waved good-by to my dear old mother for the last time and we made our way to Halifax where we were seen off on our journey.
We landed in Montreal and transferred to B.O.A.C. airline and left Montreal in the evening and soon saw the light of the sunrise somewhere over the Atlantic. It was an exciting moment as someone pointed out important landmarks in the city of London. The Thames River, the Parliament buildings and other interesting spots.
As we ventured out unto the street it seemed strange to see streets seemingly to go right through buildings with small three wheeled vehicles all driving on the wrong side of the street I thought “a strange lot these English are”! One small vehicle whose driver saw us looking rather dumb, standing on the street corner, asked who we were and then invited all of us to squeeze into the rear seat of his tiny car and they gave us a wonderful tour over the London bridge and other exciting places. I failed to ask their address so I could thank them later.
As we made our way through the mass of people on our way to catch a train to another airport, I discovered Harold was missing. Anxiously I hurried back through the people and was much relieved to see him coming toward me! I suspect he was glad to see me as well!
We boarded our flight to Entebbe, Uganda, and as darkness came, I looked down on the city of Paris. It looked like a large hub with streets leading out like spokes of a large wheel. It was dark and the lights were amazing. Other sights I do not remember. Perhaps I slept over the Mediterranean Sea and on to the Sahara Desert and finely, to Uganda.
The aircraft landed at Entebbe and as we made our way off the plane, the hostess began to spray the aircraft and I asked someone what they were spraying for. Someone replied that it was for tsetse fly. As we descended the exit stairs, I felt the hot humid air and realized that we were truly in Africa. As we sat in the customs office I remember a large cockroach running across the floor. Totally unnoticed by anyone but us.
A kind lady from a travel bureau offered us a ride to Kampala. The Guest House where we were to be lodged was full, so she dropped us at the Speak Hotel where we were given a large room accommodating all of us. Soon the African waiters in the dining room chided us for going to that awful country of Congo. Little did they know that soon they too would suffer under the awful reign of the murderous President Edi Amin. We settled in to await Behring and Lois McDowell (I can’t remember if Lois was with them or not) with Pearl Winterburn to take us by car to the Congo.

After a few days, money became rather short, and I began to waver in my faith. I sent off a telegram and soon had a reply. I felt rather ashamed to have failed my first trial.
After some days, the McDowells arrived and we began the long trip by car. As we made our way out of Kampala, miles and miles of banana trees, loaded with fruit, flanked the road on either side. It was exciting to say the least. Then came the open plains with tall slender black men tending their cattle, and the strange thing I noticed, was that each cattle herder wore a black bowler hat!
We noticed a long line of some kind of palm trees, stretching for miles into the distance. I was told that these were slave trade routes and seeds had been dropped by the slavers and so took root along the way.
I have no recollection of crossing the Nile River but I have crossed it on many occasions since. It had a large scow-like ferry and the river was fast with many wild cabbages floating toward the Med.
At last we reached the town of Goli in Uganda where we spent a night with a missionary lady, and our first potty stop was to walk down a slight slope to a “long drop” we ventured inside with flashlight in hand. Flashing the light around we had our introduction to the famous little Gecko for the first time, Harmless little lizard creatures scrambling to hide from our view.
Next on to Congo and the border exit from Uganda was a simple shack. The main road through the country was a narrow single track such as we had when I was a boy on the farm where we would go to the “back fields”. A strip of land about three klms. Wide called “no-mans land”, then Congo customs---another shack, and finely on to the School for Missionaries children called Rethy Academy about thirty klms. from the border.
This was the most difficult moment, because we must part with our eldest two (Janet and Ron) once again. I can still see Janet running and crying after us as we left her to the care of teachers. Ron did not seem to mind so much but I’m sure he did. It was an extremely difficult moment and there would be more to come.
Our journey continued up and hills and through valleys. (Approximately one hundred and ten miles from the school to Nyankunde.) Now that I think of it I think of it, we did stop at Itendey (pronounced E-ten-day) on our way to Nyankunde. I remember the small house with a thatched roof and the neatly trimmed hedge surrounding it. The house had African straw mats for ceilings. I remember the story of the rat that urinated up there while Behring was sleeping; now you must imagine what happened next!
During the Belgian Administration, the Belgians planted Black Wattle trees (a species brought from Australia). We noted that these trees were planted along the ridges where the altitude was about six thousand feet. They had hoped that these trees would eventually spread and seed down the slopes, but that did not happen. However, these wattle trees were a wonderful benefit to the African population for firewood since it was very cold in that high altitude area.
Nyankunde Mountain was pointed out to us a few miles before reaching the turnoff to the actual mission site, a long ridge of low hills and Nyankunde was one of them. As we turned off the main road, I noted a tree with a battered sign nailed on it. It simply said “Massey Ferguson”! Perhaps an indication of more prosperous times gone by.
We climbed the grade to the actual station. It was located just at the foot of Nyankunde (Love Mountain) and nestled among tall eucalyptus trees. Also many beautiful flowering trees as well as a few mangos. A number of missionary homes came into view and on our left was the printing press building. A large building from where much Christian literature was being faithfully printed by Merton Wolcott and his faithful staff.
Many missionaries, such as William Deans, warmly received us. I do not remember exactly who all the others were, but it was thrilling to be with so many wonderful people, and to feel so welcome. Also, Africans were there to share their hospitality and cultural welcome. As we looked to our right we could see a palm lined road and a few Missionaries homes along the way leading to the Bible School and farther on, was the large chapel with a tin roof, which could seat at least one thousand. On our left, another road led to the Medical area of the mission where other staff houses were located.
Soon we were taken to our “home to be”, and found it to be large and fully furnished with bedding, towels, dishes and every thing else we could have wanted. My memory fails me but I think it was the home of Gertrud Koppel. (Perhaps someone reading this will remind me of whom it was).
Just down the hill a little way as evening approached, we could hear the thump, thump, thump of an old single piston engine with large flywheels. It was attached to a small generator. They started it at 6pm and let it run till 9 pm to provide electric power for cooking etc.
As days passed, and new acquaintances were established, we noted a sense of tension in the air. Missionaries were often huddled around the two-way radios and we became aware that something was amiss. I have forgotten the code name of the approaching rebels, but the missionaries would hear that code name and know that the rebels had arrived and that we would not be hearing from that mission station again, tension was on the rise!
After a week or so, word came that Mrs. McDowell was quite ill. She had had a mischarriage and I was elected to go with Pearl Winterburn. We went in an old Mercedes car to their mission station called Itendey (about fifty miles I think) where the McDowells were situated in their ministry, It was raining and I was experiencing my first bout of Malaria.
As we passed through military barriers, Pearl did the talking, as I had not learned the language yet. I found it frustrating. I didn’t even know how to swear in Swahili---yet!
For my first little job, Pearl asked me if I could put a door on a shed. She said she needed it to house a mother who had a small child. I looked at the shed and with my Canadian mind, wondered how could anyone live in such a shack? I didn’t have a hammer or a nail and didn’t know where to find such things. I was given a man to help with language and to “gopher” for me. I don’t think I ever got that door installed.
Missionaries had a Tennis court and played occasionally for recreation, and we had the pleasure one day, to meet a new family on there way in-land to Kisangani about (I’m guessing), four hundred miles from us. The name of the family was Sharp. They had several small children; and the youngest was a Downs Syndrome child! Lord willing, you will hear more about this lovely family later.
As tension rose a very high level, it was determined that all Missionaries should leave for their own safety; the single Missionary women were persuaded to fly out, and as I understand it, they did not know where they were to fly even after they were on the plane. But my memory plays tricks on me some times!
Two brave souls, William Deans (Bwana Bill) an amazing man who spoke four languages, and also had military experience and Mert Wolcott remained behind try to protect the mission Press, Hospital and many other things. Much later, we learned that the Press was saved with no damage!
In the mean while Behring McDowell and I went to town to look for tires for an old Chevy Carry-all. We found them, but they were a narrower size than we needed. What to do. We bought them anyway, and as we were returning to the Mission, we came to a military barrier!
We were told that we could not pass so we had to return to an other Mission called Bogoro some thirty miles, situated by the lake Albert. Next morning we tried to return and found that Bwana Bill had been there to speak to the Commander and he was persuaded to let us pass to retrieve our families. (No cell- phones back then) Permission was granted, so now what? To be continued...