With Ukumu’s help, I had been able to buy, from Pan Paper in Kenya, and import, a three-ton load of paper, for Editions CECA at Rethy. This inventory of paper should be able to keep the press operating for some time, especially since there was a lack of projects to print. We started immediately on the Zande Hymnbook as we were certain there would be a market for it.

The book had been created many years earlier and been reprinted a number of times. We decided to scan in the text, using an optical character recognition program, make the necessary corrections, and reset the type for the entire book. We took apart a copy and scanned each page at the Editions office, saving the files to disks, so Ellen could open each file at home, make corrections, then save back to the disks. The files would then be printed and proofread again, before making the final copies to be photographed. The resulting negatives would be used to prepare the flats, to burn the offset plates for printing on the Heidelberg A3 press.

Ukumu was still in Kampala. He was an enterprising merchant that wouldn’t return from the city without buying all he could, to transport back to Ndrele, for resale in the Congo. Once he had made all the necessary arrangements he would take the bus back home. When the Toyota pick-up was repaired he would store it in a safe place. When we went to RVA to pick up Jeff at the end of the school term, we could meet Ukumu in Kampala on the way back, load in our purchases, his stuff, and drive back home.

It was time to get things moving forward on building the radio studio on Puu Hill. The area had been cleared. The people whose houses we had bought when the chief gave us the land for RTK had all moved out, even the medicine man whose house had been given the highest value by the chief and elders. We had walked around as a group examining each house in turn. A one room hut with a partially collapsed roof and no door was called half a house. A hut with a door was worth more, of course, and we counted the window openings, and the pieces of glass, if there were any. On the witch doctor’s house there were five windows and we added value for the number of panes of glass he had used. Everyone was paid in front of the witnesses, and each was told they could take any of the materials from their former house to build their new house.

It was decided that we needed to build a thatched mud and wattle “piyotte” with low walls, that we could use as an open guard house and also as a meeting place for morning devotions. Once construction was underway it would be used daily. The shipping container was dragged from Rethy to the building site using short lengths of power poles as rollers. Mugassa began hauling rock to the site to use for the foundation and the pillar on which we would erect the tower.

I needed to lay out the building so the contractors could better understand the project. Actually, they had built quite a few brick buildings, and once they knew the size, they could make a more informed bid. For the last few buildings we had worked on together we had concluded that a contract, assigning a value to the various stages of the work, was the best arrangement.

The men decided who would be part of the work crew and what each one should be paid. Banga was old, but had done lots of masonry work, so they put his wage as the highest per day. He could tell if the cement mix was just right, and when it was time to trowel the floor, a second or third time. Sali was much younger, but had worked with Banga for many years, so in the end they decided he could receive the same wage. Philipo and Matayo had been hospital masons, but since Philipo got the assignment of caring for the accounts, and Matayo was the fastest brick layer they had four top masons. Each had his own special assistant. They had selected several par-jours (day workers) at lower daily rates to do the less skilled jobs. The total daily wage for the crew was then calculated and agreed upon.

I asked, “How should we help anybody who gets sick?” That generated a long discussion in Kilendu, of which I understood nothing. I added, “What if we add 10% to every wage, that we have just written down? Everyone could then help each other with hospital expenses.” They liked that idea.

Now we needed to see how long the project would take. I told them, “We will build the foundation with rock, not using mud but smaller rocks to pound in to fill the cracks until we reached the end of the red clay subsoil. We will then use cement for mortar to the top of the foundation and pour a layer of cement to cap the foundation. This should stop any termites from tunneling up through to the walls.”

There was quite a bit of talk again, and then they told me how many days it would take for the foundation. I felt they had been tempted to give a shorter time than they would actually need so I asked how many days should be added in case it rained and we couldn’t work. Their desire to get started, their joy to work, and to do a good job was evident. God is the only One who knows about the rain, we all agreed, so more days were added.

We then calculated, the total labor cost for the foundation. In a similar we calculated the labor cost for the walls, the ring beam, the pointing of the exterior, the installation of the ceiling, and the plastering of the walls with a sand-clay-kaikpo mash mix. The final coating would be pembi mixed with mohogo flour. We added some time, for things we forgot, and calculated the contract total in US Dollars since the Zaire was devaluating so fast.

I would advance funds to Philipo and Sali as requested but not more than the agreed value of the current stage being built. They could bring in volunteer helpers if they liked.

Filipo wrote down the names. The men wanted to get started. On Monday we would be out with tape measure, stakes, nylon string and a water level after devotions in the “piyotte”, where we read from “Nuru ya Kila Siku”, the Swahili translation of the Daily Light. We would have devotions there every morning before work, sharing lessons from the Bible for each day.

We finally heard from Jeff at RVA. He had entered a boarding school in eighth grade, to live in a dorm with a group of boys who had known each other, and lived together at Kijabe since first grade. Jeff was the new kid, the one to pick on. He liked to tuck in his shirt, and all RVA boys let their shirts hang out. He liked wearing his work boots and pulled his socks up. The cool guys wore Nike sneakers and the white socks were worn low, bunched up around the ankle. The guys were all in some sort of sport, while Jeff would rather talk about trucks and driving motorcycles in Zaire. It was hard for him. He did have a roommate, Jason, who had also just entered RVA and that helped. Jason had always worked with his dad too, getting up early. Jason liked woodworking and worked in the wood shop whenever he could. Jeff found out that the RVA mechanics would let him hang around and help. Willie, a Kenyan mechanic, taught him a lot of things. It was hard for us to read in his letter how difficult it was at the boarding school.

We wrote to assure him that while we prayed that he would make some good friends. We were willing to leave Congo to be with him, yet I had committed to build the radio station and God had given us the money to do the work. I told him that we had made a contract with a work crew and had orders made for the needed building materials. Mugassa was hauling rock and sand to the site. Ukumu had helped me order cement from Kampala. We would come by bus to get him at the end of the school term.

His next letter sounded a bit better. Though he still wasn’t accepted by the dorm guys, he and Jason found a welcome at his sister Laura and Jeff Wilson’s dorm when they got up early on Saturdays. We looked forward to December!

Ukumu came back from Kampala. The Toyota was repaired and ready for us. The cement would be delivered in December. Mugasa came to report that he had hauled the rock I had ordered. I received information that Mugasa had a large debt with the Koda Hydroelectric company. Everyone knew that he would be paid for hauling rock. Was there the thought that I would tell him to go pay his bill? Ukumu also wanted a debt settled, but this one was for payment due to him from Koda.

The yellow Koda Land Rover had been repaired after rolling over on a back road near the coffee factory. Though no one had been seriously hurt the cab had to be replaced. At Kwani’s request, Ukumu had managed to buy and import a cab from Kampala, but hadn’t been paid for several months. That debt came to my mind.

The Radio Tangazeni Kristo, RTK, project owed Mugasa. Mugasa owed Koda, and Koda owed Ukumu. It occurred to me that several accounts could be settled if all were in agreement. It wasn’t right for Koda not to pay Ukumu, Mugasa should have paid for his electricity, and the rocks were delivered to RTK so I should pay Mugasa. I proposed to Mugasa that I pay Koda’s debt directly to Ukumu and that I get a receipt from Paime at Koda showing his electricity debt was paid. Mugasa and Ukumu understood exactly what I was trying to accomplish, as did Paime, the one who received and made payments for Koda.

Paime trusted me completely, as I had been his boss and worked with him when he was the carpenter at the dorm, and I had been the Koda Manager when I trained him to care for the Koda store and act as the Koda cashier.

Without actually receiving or paying money, Paime helped establish the paperwork for Koda, showing payment of Mugasa’s large outstanding electric account, giving him a receipt. For the same amount he then settled Ukumu’s invoice to Koda for the Land Rover cab he had purchased in Kampala. I received from Mugasa a receipt for the rocks delivered to Puu Hill for RTK. The cash payment was given to Mugasa, most of which was to go to Ukumu.

It wasn’t long before I received a message that Kwani, the Koda manager would like to see me. I suspected that he was less than pleased that I had facilitated the settlement of two Koda accounts without his authorization. I have never seen anyone so angry. Anyone outside his office could easily hear and understand his vehement criticisms of Bwana Brown, as I was usually called, for having done what I did. It was not for me to make decisions for Koda. I was no longer the director. The harangue carried on for nearly an hour. Nothing could be changed and Kwani was totally frustrated by my interference. I was finally allowed to go.

I think I now understand. Kwani was the highest ranking, well-paid Lendu, at Rethy. Ukumu was an Alur, and Kwani had no plans to pay him. Mugasa was an Alur and owed Koda a lot of money. Now Kwani could not shut off his electricity for non-payment, nor ever hope to collect the money with payment already receipted. Who was I, a Muzungu, a white man, to interfere. Tribal hatred in the Blukwa area was seething. There were similar undercurrents at Rethy.

I had never been so aware of tribes and speculated that Kwani classified me as belonging to the now despised Alur, because I had frustrated his power. I thought of the crew that was beginning the building work on the radio station, out there now digging the foundations. I think most of them were Lendus. Mboligihe was a Zande for sure. I had worked with pastor Laleni for years. He was a Lendu. He had added to his title and was now to be addressed as Le Reverend Pasteur Responsible de la District. He had changed from the humble pastor that had first moved to Rethy when chosen to be the Section Pastor.

Why could we not work and worship together in harmony? Wasn’t God the one in charge of all who believe in Jesus and follow Him?

God is looking for people to come to Him from every tribe and tongue and nation. He will then return.