O like Observation

What language do missionaries “speak”? Theirs is an alphabet of mercy, with letters that breathe life back into words and generate works

“Angalia, padiri…ni ajabu” (look father, how wonderful) one of the two captains of our boat said to me when we arrived in Mwayenga Bay on Lake Tanganyika in Congo DRC.

He was actually right.

To the right, part the hill that like an arm, encircles the beach and inside the fishing village.

Arriving we are met by children and ducklings splashing around happily as mother made them.
Then the problems begin. The boat cannot get all the way to the beach because it risks silting up.

Then we are met by a dugout and have to jump in, timing it well so as not to end up in the water. With a bit of luck, I succeed in the feat and we row fast to the beach.

Everyone comes to meet us. Some take you by the hand, some want to carry your luggage, and some give you a smile that is a thank you for your arrival. We are escorted to the house of the sector community leader. Everyone starts asking you questions and it is difficult to give answers to everyone.

I say, “Pole pole. Mniachie wakati wa kufika (Slowly. Give me time to get there).”

And in the meantime, I look back and the horizon is full of fishing boats and along the beach I see fish laying out to dry and then going to sell them to the barges (the bòti) that will take them to the market in the big city. But, for now, I have to settle for a quick glance.

I am surrounded by so many people. We finally make it to the house in one piece. Meanwhile, our two captains had secured the
safety of the boat, dropping anchor.

They sit us down and the questions continue. Meanwhile, the mothers cook fish and some rice for the “wageni warafiki” (foreign friends).” Then someone leaves us and follows with their nose the scent coming out of the pots, placed on the three stones. Who knows, they think, if we too will be able to taste them! There will be no problem. There is always enough for everyone, even a small piece for the little ones.

I get hungry, too. Then they pass a bowl with soap and towel. And then (it’s about time), the trays with rice and fish arrive. Father is served first. Very good fish (but hunger makes it even better). And the others, including those accompanying us on the trip, also honor the work of the mothers and together we thank them.

Then, not to waste time, they leave me a little bit of time to rest, because the day will be long. Someone, afterwards will take me on a tour of the village and so say hello to a few people and see their work.

I am very intrigued when I see how they build the dugout. They explain that it is a large log, dragged almost to the shore. Then it is cleaned of the bark and hollowed out inside. It is tiring, but in the end one is happy with the job done.

Of course, a little banana beer makes the operation less strenuous. That is their working medium with which they go to
fishing. Sometimes they even add a barbell to it to make it stable.

But the hippos don’t always like the intrusion of the fishermen into their realm and so they dive under the boat and headbutt them and try to drop them into the water and some stay there forever.

After visiting the village we go up the hill for several encounters. And there the view is even more beautiful.

Below The beach that frames the village and behind, the banana plants and forest in the background. Birds fluttering everywhere. And us above looking far across the lake to where Burundi and Tanzania are.

Before long the sun will begin to set and fill the waters with color. It will be a fascinating spectacle. The great painter of the Universe is truly a special guy.

Source

• Father Oliviero Ferro

Image

• Image digitally created by spazio + spadoni