A useful proverb learned during years of service in Haiti says, “Byen pre, pa lakay” (close, is not “home”).  However, when you arrive home, you are very much home.  And so it is when you arrive back in Congo as we did on the evening of Jan. 14.  The minute you emerge from the airplane’s open door, you feel a blast of Kinshasa’s warm night air smack in the face.  Home!  This humid, slightly soot tainted, night air, your first greeting, marks the threshold of “home”.  Unquestionably, you’re more than close.

You cross the threshold of home during passport/visa check and the process of second guessing the immigration officials at Kinshasa’s international airport.  A greeting spoken in Lingala (the language spoken around the city) is usually the key.  On this evening, one customs official recognized Jonathan because of his hair.  “I remember you when you left,” he smiles. “You must be returning home.”  Threshold successfully crossed!

In baggage claim and waiting in the parking area outside, the banter begins – rapid fire Lingala, a language of harsh sounds, sometimes almost in jeering tones:  “Hey, Mundele (white person), give us this.  Mundele, give us that.  Mundele, what are you going to do for us anyway?!”  You can get caught off guard.  However, the demands are usually readily dissuaded by a response in Lingala – rapid fire, if possible.  “Meaningful” conversation ensues; until the perpetrators tire of your scene and move on to hassle someone else.

The first night, the fatigue of the journey (about 24 hours in all, including 16 hours flying time) brings on intense sleep but it lasts only until 4:30 am when Congo’s magnificent choir of song birds wake to summon dawn.  To circulate the cool night air through the house, we always sleep with windows open, so it’s impossible not to wake with the birds, especially if a morning warbler decides to sing lustily from a tree limb exactly outside the bedroom window.  Morning warblers nest under eaves and sing a variety of melodies with all their heart.  In those wee hours, you know deep inside that you are “home” ...  a wonderful time to practice the presence of God.  You get especially good practice in the first four days on the ground as your system sorts out days, nights and time zone changes.

Back home: it’s when you greet former acquaintances and old friends, inquiring how they are, and invariably they respond, “A little bit fine.”  No one admits they are fine.  That’s inviting tragedy.  Everyone prefers to be mediocre.  This is, after all, Congo.  

In spite of the mediocre state of everyone’s being, I (Katherine) had an unmistakably warm reception at the Kintambo Health Center where I spend time supporting the medical work there.  One nurse commented to another with enthusiasm, “Nzala esili (hunger is finished), Katherine is back.”  Another produced the register of births kept in the maternity to tell the story of the effective work done in my absence and to show off the number of babies born since I left.  A glance into the postpartum ward told the same story: 6 beds, each with a mother and tiny, soft curly haired, baby resting after their labor.

Back home: it’s when every meeting of friends and colleagues begins with prayer – short and simple, bowed heads and closed eyes, a genuine acknowledgment that God is beside us.  Soon after our arrival, we presented ourselves at the office of the Baptist church leaders to announce our arrival back “home,” and to report on our travels.  As we entered and sat down in Rev. Kembo’s office, he prayed over us at once.  Welcome home.

Back home again:  Friends and foes alike engulfed Jonathan upon his return to school, the American School of Kinshasa (TASOK) where he is in 11th grade.  Somehow, he manages to stand out in the crowd!  Because TASOK’s schedule and (brother) Christopher’s college schedule didn’t jive, Jonathan missed a few days of school, so he had plenty of catch up.  But friends didn’t hesitate to share assignments and teachers cut some slack, and the catch up was accomplished between soccer skirmishes.  

Back home this time has us finding creative ways to camouflage the hole in the house caused by Christopher’s absence, and compensate for feelings of being far, far away.  Amidst the comfortable and familiar, that’s not an activity we’ve practiced.  We lean into God’s arms.

Your prayers as we seek our ministry focus heading into this next term of service will continue to serve us well.