The young man on the right recovered from meningitis, but the illness left him struggling to remember things. Learning is a slow process.  In this church literacy class, he gets both sympathetic teachers and extra help, that may help him to recover more than his health.

Since the beginning of the year, I've been circulating among the churches in the west end of Kinshasa with our new supervisor, Esaie (Isaiah.)  We've struck up conversations with literacy teachers, pastors, church school principals and women's leaders, probing to find out more about their needs and hopes for their churches and communities.  In the process we have opportunities to share a new vision for literacy in Kinshasa.
 

Our conversational journey has taken us to Baptist churches in the neighborhoods of Lukunga, the WWII Veterans' Camp, Djelo-Binza, Malweka and Pumbu Cité so far.  Today I bent the ear of the pastor of Livulu Baptist Church.  In the next few weeks we will repeat the exercise with Sanga Mamba, Bwadi, and the two churches in Kintambo, close to where I live..  Only 70-odd churches to go in order to cover every CBCO congregation in Kinshasa.  And that doesn't begin to think about sharing the vision in rural areas.

The message we're bringing the churches this time is "Look for the opportunities in your communities that God gives you."  Invest seriously in those opportunities.  Think about building dedicated classrooms for literacy outreach.  Forget that old idea that literacy is pastime for a few old ladies from the village meeting in a back room of the church.  Literacy classes are an incredible resource for your church and neighborhood:

• not only for teaching women what they have missed, and helping them to a richer life,
• not only as a way to get more people reading the Bible and equipping them for ministry,
• not only for bringing new people into the church. 

Literacy classes are an incredible resource for your families' kids.  Many of our own kids aren't doing well in school because they don't have a solid reading foundation.  How about our nieces and nephews newly arrived from the village unprepared to live in a literate world.  And what about those kids recovering from a long catastrophic illness that robbed them of school time and compromised their ability to pick up new knowledge quickly.  Schools here are crowded and don't have tutoring.  Teachers have little time to give struggling kids the help they need.   

These young women have finished Lingala reading and writing classes and moved on to French.  This not only widens the scope of sources of information but gives them a key to open new doors of opportunity.

Literacy classes are different.  We can give struggling youth the individual attention they need to really learn.  While they may start by learning to read and write in a local language, this builds skills and confidence that often leads them to learn good French too.  For a church with a vision, literacy classes can be buzzing with teenagers morning and afternoon, just like those at the Lemba-Matete Baptist Church or the Second Baptist Church of Bandal's.  A church with a vision might even start thinking about where to put vocational classes for its post-literacy students.  What trades might they teach them?

I tell schoolteachers and principals that they can recommend literacy classes to the parents of the students they notice are not doing well.  It is no honor to a school's reputation to have bad students and low percentages of graduating seniors, and principals are happy to hear of an alternative.

It's a dazzling set of new ideas for most of the people we're talking to.  From our perspective as literacy teachers, this vision gives us the scope to touch many more people.  But it also means that our classes begin to do a better job meeting some deeply felt needs in our communities.  And that gains respect: from our host churches, from our communities and from the people we teach.   

Teachers in this kind of a center work harder.  But sharing a valuable skill and doing it well makes it much more likely to be able to make a living from it.  Serious teachers, with serious investment in space and materials by host churches, creates a dynamic that attracts more students, serious students, students willing to pay the voluntary monthly fee for classes they agreed to pay.  That makes for happier, more dedicated literacy teachers.

Trusting in God's vision,

Miriam

Community ownership: The local health center is our baby

In theory, community health committee (CODESA) members are respected community representatives with responsibilities for co-managing their area health center. IMA World Health and the ASSP (Access to Primary Health Care) Project are encouraging these representatives to explain to community groups the need and the benefits of community ownership of the health center and partnership with health center staff. To prepare for the information campaign, IMA and ASSP partner CARITAS Congo have organized a series of orientation workshops for CODESA members in six health zones.  

The aim is for these men and women to become key agents explaining the Community Health Endowment initiative and recruiting community groups to provide modest, but crucial, supplementary support to their health center.  Support will lower out of pocket costs for users, making it easier for cash-strapped villagers to get health center services when they need them.  It will also help the health center to ensure that medicines, key supplies and personnel are available to serve when people need them.

I just spent eleven days with colleague Pastor Ruben Ngalubenge in Kindu working with CARITAS Congo partners, coordinated by Dr. Cyprien Masaka.  Ruben led or directed 3 workshops while I observed and worked with CARITAS community development agents.  Frankly I keep expecting community leaders, health service workers and community groups themselves to be skeptical after years of humanitarian "projects" that seem to foster dependency and dysfunction.  Rather than offering material goodies, we are encouraging local communities to discover the resources and power that God has already given them and take the initiative themselves to stabilize and improve local health services.  People's enthusiasm continues to surprise me; they are ready to give it a try.

These pictures give a bit of the flavor of the CODESA workshops for the Alunguli, Kindu and Kailo Health Zones.

 One of the Sokolo Health Center nurses (left) shows Dr Masaka (center) and Jules Kepange Kaleka the beginnings of a model garden. Promoting modest home gardens for families with malnourished children has proved to be a simple, cheap, sustainable and very effective way to reduce malnutrition.

 Participants in the Alunguli orientation workshop for community health committee members.

Pastor Ruben Ngalubenge, IMA World Health consultant, leads a session of the Alunguli Health Zone orientation workshop. About 30 people representing 6 health center areas participated in the workshop.

Pastor Ngalubenge (right) asks a clarifying question as a health committee spokesman (left) presents his groups conclusions during a session of the Alunguli workshop.

Dieudonne Masumboko, principal community participation specialist for the provincial public health office, leads a session of the Kailo community health committee orientation workshop.

Dieudonnee Masumboko advises one group of community health committee members as they work on a Community Health Endowment information campaign for the health center area. IMA World Health and ASSP partner CARITAS Congo aim to help provincial health services to reestablish an effective positive leadership in provision of primary health care services.

 One of the Kailo community health committees puts on a skit depicting the first contact with the chief and community leaders in the Community Health Endowment information campaign. ASSP encourages community groups to organize small income-generating activities to supplement inadequate government and international aid support.

The composer of a jingle promoting community ownership of and involvement in the local health center leads the combined participants of the Kindu and Kailo Health Zones in singing at the end of the workshop.

A real education for life

by Miriam Noyes

Helene Bengi (r) is a lead literacy teacher at the Lemba Matete Baptist Church

“Do you see that girl?” Mama Helene asked.  “Her friend brought her.  She’s a high school graduate, in our beginning reading class.  And she’s not alone.  We have several of them.”  Helene and Rose, our literacy coordinator, were talking in front of the Lemba-Matete Baptist church during our recent teacher training seminar there.

Over the years I’ve become aware of the often low levels of literacy among girls in rural schools.  I put it down to environment: there just isn’t that much incentive to read in villages, and girls often don’t hope for lives different from that of their illiterate mothers.  But my friends in Kinshasa protest that schools in Kinshasa aren’t any better.  In fact, they argue, the lively urban setting serves up many more distractions, wooing students away from serious studies.

In 2011 I was visiting Kinshasa as news flashed across the city: 100% of Kinshasa seniors had passed the final exams!  That was one huge city-wide graduation party!  Then the facts started to trickle out : there had been a massive pay-off.  Nearly all the high schools (except official Catholic schools) had participated in the corruption.  Reality came down hard on the celebrating students.  Various institutions announced that they would no longer accept Kinshasa high school diplomas.

Some families pay to have their daughters promoted . . . all the way through their school career.  Other girls pay in other currency: sexual harassment is rampant in schools, and someone I know speaks of “sexually transmitted grades”.  Imagine completing 12 years of school and still not being able to read.

Eventually, young people, like the young woman Mama Helene spoke of, learn that a diploma without the learning to go with it is almost worthless.  That’s when our literacy classes start to sound interesting.

There at the Lemba Matete church the classes are bustling all morning every day, Monday through Saturday, on the students’ insistence.  And all of the students I saw were young, both girls and guys.

Literacy classrooms are simple, protection from sun and rain.  They serve double duty as Sunday School classrooms.

To meet the demand, the church mounted a special offering campaign and built several small classrooms.  They’re bare-bones, but that hardly matters to the young people crowding in demanding an education.  When we interrupted their regular schedule to use their classrooms for our teacher training seminar the kids protested.

Fancy classrooms are much less important that motivated learners and dedicated, creative teachers.

So what makes these kids different?  To begin with, they have made the decision to learn.  They’re tested to find their true level and set at ease with other kids at the same level. In the classes they get individualized attention to deal with whatever problem they have and make sure they’re learning the material.  The education is competency-oriented and practical.  And it includes the encouragement of prayer and learning to read the Bible.

How does the church benefit? They now have classrooms for Sunday school and small meeting places for other groups when classes aren’t in session.  Some literacy students get drawn into church activities and become church members. The church is developing the reputation for caring in the community, a place where you can go for help.  And church members get great help for their own kids, paving the way for a better education.  The good students who are canny use these classes to get better yet.

These days the teachers and students at Lemba-Matete Baptist church are dreaming about adding vocational training classes to further help young people, in a city of high unemployment.

The guiding verse of the Congolese Baptist literacy work is “My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge.” Hosea 4:6.   In a country where that is particularly true*, churches like the Lemba-Matete Baptist Church are making a difference.

---

* Despite its enormous, varied mineral wealth, DR Congo is at the bottom of nearly every  human development index.

I was a woman just like you

by Miriam Noyes

Mama Kiba Pierrette, president of the Baptist women in her local church glows as she receives her literacy diploma.

“I was a woman just like you”, she said, addressing the numerous women’s choirs that had come to sing for the event. “Now look at me.” Indeed! Mama Kiba Pierrette had, by diligent effort and the help of the local Baptist literacy classes, gone from illiteracy to reading and writing easily not only in the local Lingala, but also in French.

A rather short square friendly no-nonsense lady, you get the sense immediately when meeting her that this is a lady who gets things done. And she does, as the president of the women of her church. When she gave the elegant address in French for the occasion, the television journalist there murmured admiringly, “That was better than most university students could do!”

The occasion was the Kinshasa Baptist churches’ celebration of International Literacy Day, and Mama Kiba Pierrette’s graduation day. I don’t get to many of these occasions, having been in rural Congo for many years. So I found it interesting to see who was graduating.

Besides a number of middle-aged women, there was an elderly lady who looked positively thrilled, a bunch of teenaged and twenty-something girls, a woman who they tell me is preparing to travel in Europe, several young men and a middle-aged man who radiates satisfaction at getting rid of his educational handicaps.

Several of the ladies were like Mama Kiba Pierrette: having gotten well-educated in literacy classes, they took the training to become literacy teachers themselves. They walked to the front twice: once for their diplomas, and once for their teacher’s certificates.

Literacy classes in Kinshasa have evolved. No longer are they just classes for women.


Everywhere I have gone, the centers at our churches are full of teenagers, and not just those whose parents never sent them to school. There are lots of kids whose schools are on half day sessions, who sign up for reading classes in their free time.

And it’s surprising to see which of them are in the beginning reading classes. Some, of course, are there to improve their French, taking advantage of the fact that school French classes and our French classes take different approaches.

Some are like the graduating boy, who suffered some brain damage from a severe attack of meningitis and had to drop out of school for a year or so. He is, I’m happy to say, back in form and at the top of his English class.


We estimate that in the 15 years we’ve had this literacy program 16,000 people have found new lives through our classes. Now that’s worth celebrating!

A Place of Healing for Our Community

Many times over the last two months I have visited a rural health center that is little more than a simple modest mud-and-wattle hut with a thatched roof.  It looks like any other house in the village.  Maybe there is a red cross on the wall or a sign, but often not.  But millions of rural Congolese know this is the first place to go if you or yours fall sick. 

The Bolo Health Center, built by the local community.  They have also built a traditional house for the nurse.

The Bolo Health Center is a perfect example.  Local villagers built it from the red clay soil of northern Equateur province.  It is dark inside; hardly enough light to read a microscope slide on a bright sunny day.  Behind it is a newly-built house for the nurse.  It is the community’s way to attract and encourage the nurse.  A trained nurse and some basic medicine and supplies can mean the difference between life and death.  Poverty may limit what people are able to provide, but even desperately poor communities aspire to better health care and are willing to contribute what they have to get it.

A little further down the road from Bolo is the village of Kawadje.  The nurse is humble young woman with simple grace and dignity.  I asked her how the local community supports her.  She looked a little embarrassed and explained that people in the area are very poor.  Sometimes they can’t pay for her services.  “But what can I do?” she asked.  “They need my help and we all do what we can.” 

The nurse of the Kawadje Health Center (in the blue shirt) is gracious and compassionate.  She praise community leaders for their willingness to support the health center, despite their desperate poverty.

We talked in front of a large, solid, well-constructed traditional building.  The walls were plastered with mud and whitewashed to increase the light.  The yard was clean.  The nurse explained how the health center was built.  “People here have a good heart.  The health center committee asked village leaders to help.  Everyone pitched in.  They brought robust sticks and palm ribs for the walls and thatch for the roof.  They dug clay to fill in the lattice work and plaster the walls.  Whenever we need something people are willing to help.” 

These are communities managing to take small steps to secure reliable basic health care.  They are handicapped by poor education, distance from good markets, a predatory government officials, and policies that discourage economic development.  But they work together, using what they know and what they have at hand to bring the most basic health services to the community.  It is far from perfect, but it is a step in the right direction.

Much of my time these days is devoted to helping local health zones develop a way for cash-poor communities to turn their knowledge and resources into support for their local health center.  In many rural areas, people are underemployed have abundant land.  When invited to contribute, community groups are very open to producing and selling a crop in order to pay the nurse and improve the health center.  What they often lack is good agricultural advice, good crop varieties and good seed.  This reduces the potential benefit and increases the risk of discouraging failure.  But if these were widely available, farmers in many regions of Congo could double their production, the well-being of rural households would improve dramatically, AND contributing to a local health center would be more satisfying.

Our strategy is to provoke thousands of communities to go beyond the occasional building campaign for their local health center.  Over 400 community groups have joined the experiment.  They agree to give half of what they produce to support the health center.  In return they will get a 40% reduction in health service fees.

We have worked with 17 health zones to train community volunteers to share information on best agricultural practices with these groups.  Participating community groups have received nearly 9 tons of improved seed and about 180,000 meters of improved manioc seed cuttings, promising a bigger production bang for the buck.  The health zones encourage the program by regular visits to enrolled community groups.

A couple of weeks ago I spent a week visiting Community Health Endowment groups in Kasai Occidental and seeing health centers they want to support.  The Tshipanga Health Center is four small rooms, wattle and mud construction.  Another hut serves as the local maternity center (for mid-wife assisted births.)  The day we visited, the nurse’s wife had just given birth there to their fourth child.  The child’s healthy cries could be heard in the background as we talked. 

The people of Tshitesa planted a 2-acre peanut field.  Half of the proceeds will go to the health center at Tshipanga.

Our guide was Christophe, the energetic community mobilization agent for the Bena Leka health zone.  Two villages in the Tshipanga health center’s service area have agreed to participate in the program.  In Tshitesha, from the first few minutes after getting out of the truck it was obvious that the community was enthused.  One of the village elders led us a half mile into the forest, with dozens of excited villagers trailing along.  We came to a 2 acre field with newly planted peanuts just poking up through the soil.  A beautiful field.  In the discussion back in the village, I asked about why they wanted to plant the field.  One of the elders replied, “Because our health center is very important to our people.”  Heads nodded and murmurs of agreement rippled through the people pressing in around us.

Christophe, the health zone community mobilization agent, encourages the villagers of Tshitesa.

We are hoping that Tshitesa and villages like it are early adopters, people who demonstrate to others that a new idea really can work – in this case that poverty is not destiny and that the local community can mobilize to provide better primary health care.  I believe that people often don’t realize the power they have.  God has given us so much.  The challenge is to see beyond our feelings of helplessness, hopelessness to a different reality.  Many Christians know this.  If the people of Tshitesa succeed, others will brave the experiment, and possibly discover the power that God gives us all to change, transform the world around us for the good.

An unxpected grace

I am a stranger in Gemena, traveling in a region new to me and not speaking the local language (though I can understand some.)  If you know me, you can understand how easy it might have been for me to be content with a quiet Sunday alone.  But I felt an unusual compulsion to go out and find a church.

Before I left Kinshasa, Pastor Mpezo, our next door neighbor, told me there was a CBCO parish in Gemena.  He promised to get me the name of the pastor and address of the church so I could visit.  Somehow we never managed to get together before I left yesterday morning. 

So this morning it seemed futile to even consider asking God to lead me to the CBCO church.  Instead my path led out into the northern neighborhoods of Gemena, hoping vaguely to stumble on a Protestant church without blaring loudspeakers.  The path from the Catholic guesthouse led up the hill toward the center of town.  At the top of the hill is a large, multi-story school building.  I stopped to ask a man sweeping the yard of a nearby education office what it was. 

In the course of the conversation, I mentioned that I was a visitor in town and a missionary with CBCO.  He brightened visibly and said, "There is a small CBCO congregation that meets just behind my house.  They just inaugurated a church building."  To be honest, I thought, "Probably just a generic Protestant church - they all look alike to people in the neighborhood."  But I asked directions and it didn't sound too difficult to find.

Three quarters of a mile down the road there was the serious erosion the guy mentioned.  And there was the path going off to the right.  And there was a grass thatched meeting place with palm-rib walls.  AND there were people singing a hymn in Lingala.  I chose a spot on the 2x4 board that served as a bench on the men's side and joined in the hymn.

As the service progressed through worship and intercession, I had a strong sense that God wanted me to give people a message in two parts - not a sermon but a message.  "His love has no limits" and "His eye rests upon this small vibrant congregation."  Why this message is important to this group of people is beyond me.  At the time of greetings, I told how God pulled me out the door of my temporary lodgings and gave me a guide to this particular church, and I passed on the message, with no elaboration.

A visiting pastor preached and closed the service.  We filed out and shook hands according to the custom.  And I talked a bit with the leaders of the church.  The congregation is indeed a sub-parish of the CBCO church in Gemena pastored by Pastor Charles.  And they were just as amazed I as I was that I wandered in.  God leads out paths in unusual ways at times.  God does have his eye on that congregation.  What a beautiful reminder for me this morning.  Pray that His Spirit will continue to work through them, sowing the seeds of life in the northern neighborhood of Gemena.

Ed

Is resurrection really possible?

Dr. Cyprien Masaka came to the Kailo Health Zone as a young doctor not long out of medical school.  The hospital was lost in a forest of weeds and brush.  Working with limited resources, he and staff reclaimed the facility from the forest and from despair.  Today the facility is clean and serving over 130,000 people.  This is just one example of Christians living redemptive lives in Congo.

The a capella voices of a young mixed choir down near the Catholic “cathedral” proclaim good news. The bells pealed out the call to worship. It was a pleasant Sunday morning in Kindu on the banks of the upper Congo River. I was three days into a week-long visit with Catholic partners for the Access to Primary Health Care project: reflecting together how to help rural communities partner with their local health centers and hospitals to ensure widespread access to quality primary health care.

As I listened to the congregation singing and the drums playing, I thought about the Good News that Jesus announced, all the facets of life that his message and actions touched in a broken, twisted world. As I read the gospels that morning, I was impressed again by how much healing Jesus did, unconditional healing of broken bodies and captive spirits. Life connected to God restores life to the world around it, breathes life into it, replaces hate and strife with love and peace.

Over the last two weeks, the story of the raising of Lazarus has been on my mind. As life seeped away from Lazarus, his sisters and friends sent an urgent message for Jesus’ help. Jesus did not come. God did not intervene. Powerless, they watched him die and assumed that was the end of the story. When Jesus arrived four days later, Lazarus was in the tomb.

Jesus’ first words to Martha were, “Your brother will rise to life.” Martha assumed he was talking about the end of the age, the distant future. All life’s experience reinforced one conclusion: death is final. But Jesus gently reminded her that resurrection and life are rooted in relationship with him in the present. Martha didn’t understand, couldn’t imagine, couldn’t hope.

When Mary and the other mourners joined Jesus, the tomb only reminded them again of the finality of Lazarus’s death. In their grief and resignation they accused, “Could he not have kept Lazarus from dying?” When Jesus directed people to roll away the sealing stone from the cave-tomb, Mary could conjure up only images of putrefying flesh. Experience of a lifetime suggested nothing more.

Jesus, however, saw something else. Imagine God present. Imagine God’s power to restore life, to reverse the reign of death. Seconds later many saw the unimaginable, the reality of God’s power: Lazarus staggering out of the tomb bound up in body wrapping cloths. “Untie him, and let him go,” Jesus said. Let him live like he was meant to live.

When I read this story again a couple of weeks ago, I thought of the Congo. So many people here cannot imagine any other Congo than the one plagued by dysfunction, death and decay. Stereotypes plague the country. Self-serving warlords, the reign of terror financed by the sale of rare minerals. Autocratic government, widespread corruption. Money hungry evangelists promising miracles, a lost social solidarity failing to catch the destitute in time of need. Gripping materialism in the midst of grinding poverty. Unpaid government employees and high government officials living in luxury. Big aid projects stifling home-grown development and encouraging a debilitating dependency. A widespread commitment to sorcery, even among the followers of Jesus, infidelity, chronic deceit. These images of death are played over and over again, molding and shaping people’s imagination, limiting hope.

My home away from home during the week was with the Marist Brothers. They are a community of lay brothers dedicating to serving young people through education and spiritual formation, giving hope to the next generation in Congo.

But we are the community of the risen Christ. We, of all people, have a message of hope to share: Jesus is alive, the power of life reigns supreme. Do we believe that? Do you believe that God can change the life of a heartless warlord or a hopelessly corrupt government system? Do you believe that God can breathe new life into a dying church or a dying marriage? Do you believe that God can inspire people to learn new ways to produce enough food to feed their children and to banish poverty? Do you believe that God can put an end to political gridlock and inspire politicians to work for the common good of the country? Or if that hope is hard to generate, do you believe that God’s power resting in you can mediate the love of God to a few people around you?

I was in Kindu that Lord’s Day last week because I believe in the resurrection. Disciples of Jesus can be a healing, inspiring, catalytic force for life-giving change in Congo because by God’s gracious choice His Spirit lives in us. Many Congolese have lost hope that change can happen here. But I saw Christians who are contributing to another image of Congo: Dr. Masaka, the team at CARITAS Development Kindu, and the Marist Brothers of Kindu. Pray with me that God’s people will help others to see the reality of the resurrection, to find a pathway to hope that life-giving change is possible, to believe in the power of the living Lord.

Outside the tomb of Lazarus Jesus asked the people, “Didn’t I tell you that you would see God’s glory if you believed?” Lord, open our eyes to your glory. Help us to reflect it to others.

Dr Masaka (l), Kindu coordinator for the Access to Primary Health Care Project, and Dieudonne Masumboko (r), community participation specialist for the provincial health service.

Dr. Masaka and Dieudonne talk with the young staff of the Kailo Health Zone about the new program to enlist communities in partnerships with their local health center.

The Kailo hospital laboratory is clean and relatively well equipped, part of the initiative of Dr. Masaka.

Dieudonne Masumboko talks with members of a farmers' group.  They introduced 2 new varieties of high-yielding disease-resistant manioc.  The women have all adopted the new varieties.  They particularly like the long storage life in the field.

An onion farmer near Kampala shows off his crop to Dr. Masaka and Mr. Masumboko.