Life in the Submarine - The Mill Hill Missionaries

Life in the SubmarineA huge swathe of light brownwater far out in the Atlantic wasthe tell-tale sign that we wereapproaching our destination.From then on our ship wastravelling in the waters of themind bogglingly large CongoRiver. Not the faintest glimmerof land in sight. In fact it tookanother half day before a thinstrip of coastal sandbeach withsome palm trees and theoutline of the estuary of theFellow passengersCongo river could bedistinguished far away on the horizon. Finally, after two weeks at sea, and anemotional farewell at Antwerp, I would set eyes on the country and meet thepeople to whom I had been sent as a missionary by my congregation, the MillHill Missionaries.It was the fulfilment of a long cherished dream. I had only a vague idea of whatwould be awaiting me but was excited to explore this new and mysterious landin heart of Africa, the (former Belgian) Congo. The country had hit the headlinesworldwide at the time of its chaotic accession to independence in June 1960and had remained in the spotlight ever since exemplifying, as it did, thenightmare scenario of never ending violence and mayhem. Hundreds ofmissionaries had been killed during the 1963-64 rebellion and the country wasonly just emerging from this traumatic episode under the then promisingleadership of Joseph Désiré Mobutu who had come to power in a military coup.The year of my arrival was 1968.During my final year at Mill Hill, London, we had been given the opportunity tomake our preferred missionary destination known to our superiors. I had putPakistan on top of my list of favourites - stories about the work of missionariesthere and the contact with Muslims had grabbed my imagination - and foundat ordination time that I had been appointed to…..Congo. So Congo it wasgoing to be! After a few months of brushing up my French in a small rural parishcalled St Aubin, in the Southern French ‘département’ of Lot et Garonne, I said