THE LOST DREAM

THE LOST DREAM
AFRICAN EDITION: BAKU-ALLER: PEOPLE ON THE MOVE.
(need a Maps)

BAKU-ALLER: mean people on the move, always moving.
DISH DICHO(written also DISHO) DISASHI ILUNGA, PRINCE, YURI GARGARINA MEANS THE SAME PERSON DIFFERENT USED NAMES AND NICHNAMED.
Notes: check well the name of the Russian, Yuri Gargarina the first man who was in space, it where that nickname come from. I doubt about the orthography.

Notes: some unauthorized names were changed.

to get an idea please check this 7 000 words short version story of this book called nowhere to run on : http://www.geocities.com/dishdisho/run.html

NOT IMPORTANT: Possible names to be used as surnames, places, all the missing names: Mpuku, Masengo, Kitungu, Kabale, Mufu, Kibonto, Mayanga, Mukuna, Maweja, Kashama, Tshamala, Kitenge, Mabwe, Kazadi, Lumbala.
In South Africa's South Africa: Peterson, Andrew, Jimmy, Walter, Van Der Vaal, Mazibuko, Tshabalala, Mangena, Tambo, Pinky( woman), Posha( woman), Manana, James, Fikile( woman)

PART ONE: LIFE IN ZAIRE (CONGO)

(Notes: change Tshimpuki to Kabasele's name to protect the identity of the person, he still lives in Katanga. Do not use his surname or family name Disashi)

There was a soccer game between Sanga Balende team from the province of Kasai and TP Mazembe a team from the province of Katanga ( Shaba) for the Congolese cup.
Katanga was called at the time of my living there Shaba. But to avoid confusion, I preferred to use the name Katanga. It was the names used in the colonial time and it was changed to Shaba for about 20 years and renamed again to his initial name of Katanga again.
My mother Mutoka was supporting Sanga Balende and me I was a die hard supporter of TP Mazembe. Mazembe was my favorite team. Sometime when TP Mazembe was loosing I couldn't eat all and I could be very sad for the all week.

Even though I played for the development side of Mazembe's local rival team Lupopo for two years my heart was with Mazembe. I end up playing for my favorite development team Mazembe for only two weeks before going to the priest boarding school.

In that soccer match between TP Mazembe of Katanga and the visitor of Kasai, Mazembe won the game by 3 goals to 1. I was over the moon and started teasing my mother: "The so called people of Kasai do not know to play soccer�We have given them a soccer lesson�"

My mother end up getting little bit angry. She told me that she was supporting the team from Kasai because she grows up in Kasai. I kept teasing her. Then she told me that: "Dish you don't know what you are talking about�"

Instead of leaving the matter, I kept teasing my mother for the entire afternoon. Then she told me: �My son we are not from this province one day they will chase us and kill us. Stop supporting the local teams�"

I realized that thing were getting serious and I become interested of what my mother was telling me. It sounded little bit stupid. Katanga was the only province I knew, the only place we loved and a place we lived in.

I always loved that province. Being born in Lubumbashi the capital city of the province Katanga. Having this affection for that place. Having represented with my uncles who were all art martial Karate expect that region and having even competed against other athletes of other province and especially the one from Kasai.

Katanga was the province in the South of Congo (Zaire) next to Zambia and Kasai was just in the center of Congo then called Zaire. What my mom was talking about sounded very stupid to me. I asked her why she was talking no sense.

She sat on a chair and told me to sit next to her. Now she wasn't joking and was serious. She started relating me a small story how we end up in Katanga: �When I was a kid just after the independence of Zaire from the Belgium. They were endless tribal fights.
We were first located in Kananga and were chased there. Many people died, we went to Kasai our ancestor land for two years, in Mbuji Mayi the biggest town in Kasai.
Then your grand father decided to come here to Katanga and work as an ambulance driver of the biggest company in Congo Gecamines�"
She even recalled: �on our way from Kasai to Katanga we almost lost our life. We were traveling by train. Many of your uncles were not born yet. It was only me who is the first born, your uncle Tshimpuki, your grandpa Disashi and your grand mother Lusamba. We reached a certain train station and your grandpa gave the train ticked to a wrong train ticked controller. And when the train had to leave that station the man who took the train ticked was no were to be seen. We couldn't continue our journey. We let the train leave searching for that man. The train that left did a big accident on his way and almost 70% of the passengers died. May be the fake ticked controller took those ticked who didn't have no picture and used them for his own purpose. May be he died on our places.
If it wasn't for your grandpa mistake we couldn't be alive by now�"

She continued: "In 1960 there was a big fight between people originated from this province Katanga against us people originated from Kasai and other non original in this land. Many people died and we are the few people who were lucky to survive."

It was shocked to hear that story but I wasn't convinced. I told my mother that it was only a historic event and it will never happen again. For me my province is Katanga.

She insisted: "Look, my son, soon or later we have to leave this province and go back to Kasai like the Jew returned to Israel. History always repeats it self after one, two or tree or more decades�"

It was unbelievable what my mother was telling me not just I learnt a big story of my family origin but she insisted a lot on the coming tribal war.
She supported her hypotheses:� My son people from this province are not happy with us they are saying that we are taking their jobs, we have the better jobs, opportunities and are more successful�"
Kasai was well known of diamond. Mbuji Mayi was the capital of the province of Kasai and capital of diamond and capital of witchcraft.
I asked her: "Why you didn't settle to Kasai? There are many diamonds there and I heard that people pick up diamond on street and especially after the rain. We could have been rich by now!"
She laughed for a while and told me: "Prince, it is not easy."
Prince is my nickname. "They don't pick up diamond. They dig it. There are many reasons that we decided to leave Kasai. Your grandpa decided to come here to work as a driver. For him driving cars was his dream job. He didn't have any formal education. They were very few schools in the passed and your grandpa wasn't lucky to have those opportunities we have today."
She told me one of the reason she loved Katanga, it was for studying. In Mbuji Mayi, people had a problem to study. They had to choose between money and school. Obviously people study to have good job and have money. But when there is a short cut to get money, people jump studying and go straight to look for money. So many young people flee school and goes to dig the diamond. The guaranty for us to study in Kasai in the town of Mbuji Mayi was very small.

The grand father Disashi worked for the copper company Gecamines where he was a truck driver and ambulance driver in the city of Kolwezi until he got pension, then moved to Lubumbashi.
But the biggest reason she recalled: "�One of the reasons your grand father Disashi left Kasai was also because of isolated fight because of his name".
Strange for me how come a name can become a fighting subject? I asked her to tell me more about names.

She stood quiet for sometime then she told me: �Your name is Disashi Ilunga. I will tell you more about Ilunga later when you grow up. Ilunga do not have any problem. I will tell you why you are called Ilunga too." Ilunga means someone who does not give up easily in the dialect Kasai.

My uncles and even my mother taught us that a biological or an adoptive father or parent do not make any different means nothing. A parent or a father is the one who play that role in your life in raising you.

I kept wondering what really the names have to do with all the trouble. She then reveals what I was not realizing:" Look your skin".
I answer her that that the skin do not have any problem. She insisted to analyze my skin. I told her that I was just light in complexion.
In fact many people used to tease my mother. She had 4 children who were dark in complexion and 4 children light in complexion. And we all look different to each others.
I told her that many people are light in complexion too.
This wasn't the answer that my mother was looking for as she told me: �You are my photocopy."
In fact I look at more like my mother; the only difference was that I was a man. She continued: "You took my skin and ancestor�s skin. You and a brothers and sister have some physiology difference from ancestors even if some of you are light in complexion or dark in complexion. Your name is Disashi and when we cut in short it Disho or Dicho or Dish. It is an Arab name. Your great ancestors were Arabs slave trader".
she started telling me the story of Disashi. Disashi worked for Tipo Tipo, some called him Tippy tip and his real named was Hamed Bin Muhammed el Murjebi a slave trader. When this trade was banned all over the world. Some people kept doing these practices until the late 1800's. Disashi with his country man Tipo Tipo where the last slave trademen.

I was curious to know more about it as my mother Mutoka told me: �Tipo Tipo and his group used to ask the villages chief, strong people so they may send them overseas for training and study. But after many deals, the villages chiefs realized that people were not coming back and the chief started refusing. Then the slave trader started forcing in capturing people. Sometime, they will arrive at night burn easily the thatches villages. When people run for cover, they capture them. Sometime, they will hide in the bush and wait for people who walk alone going to hunt or farm and capture them".

I was sad to hear the atrocity of Tipo Tipo and one think come to mind: �why you have to name me after a devil man"

She was in silence for a while and told me: "Look, names have a big significance in our life, name define and keep our tradition the same time. Disashi was a devil before but he was also a hero in Kasai. He rebelled against his boss Tipo Tipo or Tippu Tip real name Hamed Bin Muhammed El Murjebi, he told the chiefs that the people taken to study overseas in exchange of mirrors and sweet where sold and taken to the port cost where they were taken to work in plantation very far. He got married to a local girl and decided to fight the second atrocity, colonist"
I heard about the story of the colonist people who brought us civilization. I heard this word many time. The mother was teaching is son: " the slavery with Tipo Tipo where defeated by an African army formed by the colonist from Belgium. The African army was called Force Arm�e. It had about 1200 people and their role was to drive out the slave trade man especially Tipo Tipo group. But before that defeat Disashi rebelled against Tipo Tipo."
But this explanation didn't please me; it wasn't good enough for me to accept the name Disashi. But my mother went into detail: �The savior colonists were not slave trader but also bad. They were forcing people to go in the bush and bring them the rubber and things they needed. When people used to resist, they were taking they wives and children hostage.
Yes, some were good but some were not respecting human. Leopold group killed about half of the population that time by their torture, cutting people sometime legs and hands. They don't talk about it but about half of the population in Congo died that time, 15 millions. People were forced to work under torture for money or nothing..." I heard about the holocaust but never heard the international concern about the torture that took place in Leopold reign.
It was just sad story after sad story, the slavery and the colonist. Still this wasn't a reason to be named after Disashi. I don't know if it is surname or nickname?
Mama told me now: �Disashi after getting married in Kasai to a local woman Mujinga then married other women like all the villagers, formed a group of indigenous fighters to fight the entry of colonist. He was the man behind the invention of a powerful gun called "Tshigoma"
Tshigoma was a semi modern gun made of the a mixture of dangerous chemical mixes with all sort of broken bottle, torn...It was effective as it look more a home made bomb.
Even today gun are called Tshigoma in Kasai dialect. She started explaining: �Disashi prevented the atrocity of some colonist. The colonist failed to enter Kasai but they only afforded to control the diamond. Indigenous didn't know about diamond and were not interested."
I used to like diamond but never saw it. I heard all sort of story on the shining stones. I remember someone even lying to me that some diamond has human's picture in it. We heard all sort of mystery story about diamond. Mutoka continued: �Kasai avoided much of the torture of colonists. Kasai do not have infrastructure like in Katanga because colonist fail to control those people but controlled the natural resources. "I was studying under a tree in Kasai in the city of Mbuji Mayi." Mutoka said "We didn't even had many building for school"
I imagined how difficult it was to study under the trees when the rain comes. I felt how lucky I was but my mother kept telling me: �People still happy that they avoided the torture and now slowly build their city. Kasai stills a center of resistance even today Mobutu and the government still have the resistance mind. And it Disashi who brought the resistance and open people's eyes when everybody where asleep"
I imagine how he looked like and I wanted to know more about his look. I asked my mother how he looks like: "Did he have plenty of bears, was he white..." I thought he was white.
I was disappointed that Mutoka wasn't able to answer my question according to my thought: "Dish, he was not white or neither black" She brings some books and her album then showed me his picture. He heard many bears as I thought but he was not black neither white. He was just in between. What interested me was the white dress he was wearing. The slavery stories happen long ago but it was still in mind of people.
"It is why we keep the story via names." Mutoka told me "We kept the story in naming you after ancestors. Name show the origin and the story of people. There was no photograph machine or writing to keep everything"
So another question come into my mind and I didn't hesitated to ask my mother: "So how you kept telling me that he was an Arab?". She answered: "Because of his origin" She taught me that "Arabs were the one who brought the language in Africa" Swahili was one of the most Africans languages spoken in Africa. From the East of Congo, Tanzania, Kenya, Burundi, Rwanda, Uganda...

This was new to me as she went on giving the meaning of our names: �Disashi is from Swahili brought by Arab slave traders. Some few neighbours and people in the community in Kasai wanted your grand father to pay for the great grand father mal doing of capturing local people and sell them to America and others countries�"
The only thing Disashi fail in Kasai was to introduce Swahili there. In Kasai, they kept their indigenous language.
I couldn't understand that the hero could become a devil as Mutoka explained: �We are quick to forget the good things but we don't forget and forgive the bad thing. Not all the neighbours were against us but few were ready to revenge on our ancestors acts forgetting what he did for the community"
This was a secret of my life as my mother decided to reveal all: "Your are named after your grand father. Disashi mean bullet and it why in our family we have strange name: Captain...My name Mutoka means White�"
I understand that Disashi meant bullet and he shown people how to make home bomb. It why I doubt that it was is really name, I am sure it was a nick name. I don't just accept this coincidence.

In fact our names were just to funny. Some of the uncles were called Captain written as Kapitene. All have the family name Disashi.
Imagine some were called Kapitene Disashi. Meaning Captain Bullet. My mother Mutoka Disashi meaning White Bullet and me Dicho short cut of Disashi Ilunga Meaning bullet Ilunga. Ilunga my father name didn't have any bad reputation as a popular African name�
I hated my name and my light skin. In the classroom they used to tease me. Pum Pum, Bullet�On top of that many were called me "Rouge" or Red man. Semi Albinos�
Only few pupils were interested to call me by my loved nickname "Prince".
Now I understood why my family left Kasai to relocate in Katanga.

Kasai was also known of is witchcraft viewed as the world capital of witchcraft but that wasn't the reason the grand parent fled that province.

I went to bed thinking about what my mother told me but I dismissed the coming tribal war statement. Still for me I was Katangese and her statement didn't shake my deep love for this province.
It happened in the middle 80's when my mother told me the shocking story.

In 1988, after getting in trouble with many independent churches after circulating a letter. ( to be talked later., I blamed many churches ministers for carrying very less for poor and loved the luxuries. I sent to many churches in Lubumbashi and biggest town of Katanga such as Likasi and Kolwezi), I decided to join the priest boarding school. I just fall in love with the Catholic Church. It was a double drama for my family and friends. Most of them were not catholic believer.
For many to join the priest wasn't a good idea. Many thought that priest are combining their profession with magic; they go to cemetery at night. They have some secret sect combined to Opus Dei,�I had some trouble with the family members: uncle because they caught me with what they called dangerous book. They didn't want me to continue friendship with priests. They didn't want me to be member of the conservative version of catholic: Opus Dei.
Two times my private work shop was destroyed by my uncle. It was an important tool to me as my ideas converted in ruff was destroyed.
My mother wasn't that harsh to me. She seems to support me but the men; uncle has much authority on children in our culture. Even thought they were highly educated but they kept the tradition.
They believed my association through the priest inventory academy was the main things attracting me to be friend to priest. Some believed that many priests loved small children and wanted to protect me from being sodomized.
My involvement with priest made me rare in their Karate clubs too. They were brothers but had many differences when it comes to style of karate. But at the same time they were good friend to me, specially after confiscating my books and destroy my work shop in the garage, they will later tell me that they are trying to educated me. It was Uncle Mwamba Disashi, uncle Disashi called also Dicho, Mukala, Kapitene and Salomon Mulumba, Kaninda who were all my Seinsei, coach, mentor and friend at the same time. My mother was the only woman and the first born in a family of nine children.
We were not living together but they were often coming to our houses and Uncle Disashi was the only one who used to live to time with us.
But there is Uncle David Bashala, he was the only one who was supporting me in my friendship with priests.

He used to accompany me some time to meet the priests. He was the only man in the family who attended the Catholic Church too. But he was also scared to show the others uncles that he supported me.
On top of that if I join the priest boarding school: seminary and become a priest was a big blow to the family. I will be a priest not getting married and not have children.
In Africa to die without having children was the biggest waste. They will be no future generation from my blood to remind of my journey on earth.
But even most of the family members and friends were not catholic but I had a long relationship with priests. Since when I was involved in research and inventions group sponsored by priests they were always in touch with me, I had a scientific code were they used to call me Yuri Gargarina, from the first Russian man to try to get to the moon. And I used to be friends to them.
It was good news of my mentors and friends priests. The biggest problem to join which seminary? They were many priest schools in the country and province Katanga.
I decided to go far from Lubumbashi. In Manono was my uncle Tshimpuki was working as a Gynecology.
Tshimpuki come just after my mother Mutoka. And they were much closed.
(Notes: change Tshimpuki to Kabasele's name to protect the identity of the person, he still lives in Katanga. Do not use his surname or family name Disashi)
My mother had some relieves that I will be next to his brother and on top of that catholic education were the best education in the country.
For her she wanted that once I get the matrix certificate to leave the seminary and go to study medicine at university.
Public schools were very corrupt because the teachers were not well paid and they were unpaid for months. The private schools were very expensive. I was not the only child to go to school but I had many brothers and sisters and cousins.
Thank that time to time my biological father was sponsoring too. I was lucky in a country were maintenance wasn't popular but my father support me and others children he had.
At the same time she felt bad that I was leaving her. I was like her first son and father of the family. I was third in family but the two first born were not leaving with us. They were in Kinshasa the capital city of Congo then Zaire.
I was like the first born helping her to look after the 5 young brothers and sisters.
She even thought that I had a secret reason of leaving her. I remember when I packed the bag to take the transport to Manono. She even asked me: �Prince are you leaving me because we don't have enough food?"
In town foods was quiet a luxury but in rural areas food were not a problem. People in rural area were eating better that in town.
In rural areas people were throwing some food but not in town. In town they were eating the meat of the cow, skin and even soft bones�
I got the recommendation letters from the priests in Bel-Air one suburb of Lubumbashi, from Father Kasongo.
Leaving Lubumbashi was not that easy for me. It meant leaving friends and family. Leaving my research club sponsored by the priests. Leaving playing for my soccer club and diminishing chances of playing one day for the senior team and Karate club were I was already a vice captain.
Going to Manono a small town of 60 000 to 65 000 peoples difficult to gave the exact number of people because they counted the population number in the early eighties. All those year they were estimating the number of people, where they were no televisions. But it was a new adventure in life. I knew Manono, I was there in 1987 holiday when I went to visit my uncle Tshimpuki Disashi (note: Tshimpuki must be Kabasele) for one month.
I had a sudden knew dream to become a priest may be because I kept frequenting the priests. I don't know how I felt in love with that profession.
Manono was situated more than 800 kilometers of Lubumbashi. They were no train to Manono and they were no flight to Manono.
I has to take the public transport. No luxury buses were going to Manono because of the poor state of road.
The only cars going to Manono where only four by four jeeps or trucks.
It was the beginning of the months of September. The new academic year where starting in mid September in Zaire and end the second July.
I got the transport in a four by four car after two days of a long journey we were in Manono. My uncle was happy to see me again after one year. He wanted me to live with him instead of going to seminary but I refused to his request.
Strange enough the seminary was situated just four houses away from my uncle's house. It was in the respectable suburb of Manono called Makomeno.
I was expecting to see the seminary very far and very isolated from the public but this was situated right in town.
A big house well builds with a capacity of 30 peoples. Tree big sleeping rooms with the capacity of about 10 to 15 beds each, 5 out rooms for priests, library, a chapel, A big dining that we were using too as study room, big yard and across the road a sport ground.
The seminary, know as Saint Jean Baptist petit seminary of Manono. Petit meaning small because it was in charge of training future priests before they join Grand seminary after matriculating in Lubumbashi in the same province Katanga, some were sent to the newest grand seminary in Kasongo in the province of Kasongo. Some were sent far in Kinshasa, some in Cuba, Europe or USA.
The matrix certificate was a passport to join the grand seminary and they one who get a good percentage are more likely to join the well and respectable grand seminary.

To qualify to join the petit seminary you must be recommended by your catholic church, have a good moral and being involved in the church activities. And you have to be between standard 9 to standard 12.

I was in standard nine at the time. Two years ahead of my initial age. I started schooling at 5 years instead of 6 years and the teacher in primary school made me jump grade 4.

I was not alone to have jumped grade 4. The primary school in one of the farm I was studying didn't have grade four because of lack of teachers.

At some stage of my youth I joined another uncle, Charles Kangodia who was a veterinary in Biano at 365 kilometers of Lubumbashi in the same province of Katanga.

The school was situated just at about 5 Kilometers of the seminary. It was a normal school run by priests and other teachers but it was own by the priests. The school was called Institute Mwinya. Mixed with the future priests and many local pupils.

Manono was a mining town. The company called Zaire- Etain (tins) was the biggest company there. But already at the beginning of 80's the company was bankrupt. I can say dead or in a coma.

It was still existing but without no productivity. The tins minerals were still there. We used to see many minerals around but I don't really know the exact cause of the collapse.

I think may be they didn't have any customers or possibly the technology found a suitable replacement of those minerals.
The only souvenirs were the infrastructure left by the company. Many houses, schools and various building.

Most importantly electricity and water. People in the township around could have electricity free of charge.
Water was free too but the biggest problem it wasn't clean and wasn't suitable for drinking or cooking. The color of water was some kind of yellow mixed with the local soil. So people had to fetch to small Natural River the water to drink and cook.
It was used for washing and other cleaning purpose only.
We all had to go to the water sources from the small local rivers to fetch drinkable water to drink and cook.
All the big houses belonged to the then dying Zaire-Etain company. Even the seminaries and medical doctors� houses belonged to Zaire-Etain.
I just recalled, I haven't heard for all my years spend in Manono of house rental. It looks like they were free of charge. Expect in the township the houses were for rent and for sell at a very cheap price.
Out of about 5 000 workers the company had less than 500 workers were still actively working leaving plenty spaces.
My uncle was working for a hospital called ICA. I don't remember the meaning of that word. It was sponsored by the international organizations. It had a dozen of doctors and many other personnel. The most respected job in Manono was teachers while in the biggest town teaching was not a respectable job, nurses and churches clergy.

Zaire Etain was serving the 65 000 people in Manono and many villagers around. Some villagers were traveling from 300 kilometers from Manono. I could image that may be one million people were served by that hospital.
My uncle Tshimpuki was the only Gynecologic in that area. And the others doctors were specialist in others fields of medicine.

It was the only hospitals in saw in Congo were the medicines were free because it was sponsored by international organizations. I think the doctors were not paid a fortune. But he loved his job and the people around.

He didn't any other preoccupation except the hospital. His hobby and job was the hospital. He didn't have specific working time. He worked any time. Especially when it comes to complication birth and caesarians, he was contacted and immediately had to report on duty.

Life was very cheap: food and accommodations. The seminary was leaving only on 4 000$ a year donation from Vatican. All the need of future priests and many priests depended on that budget.

100$ was a fortune. At the place where I am sure you can make a dissent living with even 10 $.
The Catholic Diocese of Manono had about 20 Catholic churches and a Cathedral In Manono. All the surrounding area depended on that Diocese, about a half million Catholic followers were part of the Manono Diocese.
Manono and the surrounding areas had only very few priest. Some twenty of priests. They were a very big need of priests. 70% of the population in that area were catholic and few were attending the traditional independent church. Very few people believed in the tradition.

Many citizens in Manono were farmers even thought Manono was called a town. Very few worked as teachers. The city has many schools at about 15 schools compared to many rural town but many people were still not educated. Few were still working for the dying company: Zaire- Etain. This company was Manono on this self. All the buildings, infrastructure, electricity, water �belonged to dying company. Few worked for the hospital CIA, the catholic diocese of Manono, governmental administration�

Manono was fortunate to have electricity many places in the rural area didn't have electricity. It what makes it very special and envied. In the townships in Manono electricity was free too, people needed only wire to connect the electricity. It was the only city I saw house with thatches having electricity.

I stayed with my uncle for two weeks. A big house in Zaire Etain suburb called Makomeno. It has two big living rooms and many bedrooms. In the suburb of Manono, had very big houses that sometime you won't find in big suburbs in Congo. But some of the houses, many high ranked employee has left the city. Some of the big houses were occupied by other simple employee of the company, Zaire Etain and not only Zaire Etain employee other people who were not members of the minerals companies like my uncles and all the doctors, nurses in the city. Some houses were simply abandoned. Some were taken by church like the petit seminary where I had to study.

Then I went to meet the priest director of the seminary to join them. I thought that with the recommendation letters and the schools reports that it will be easy to be admitted.

But think were different. Father Numbi after looking at all the documents I shown him. First refused indirectly to take me saying that I didn't qualify to be in the seminary.
I look at all the sacrificed I made and my love for being I priest I refused immediately to accept his decision.
I said to myself that this is the only and last chance to get my way in and define my future.

The priest wasn't expecting me to convince him. Yes, it wasn't easy to be admitted to the seminary. They were only about 30 places in that boarding facility. Thousand of people have applied and fail.

My first think come to my mind was the sacrifices I did, leaving the big town of Lubumbashi for a semi rural town that had no televisions station. I was very attached to the media because my mother was a journalist producer. Sometime I had to watch television or listen to the radio because I had to criticize my mother and comment to the programs she present or produce. I didn't like to other people to criticize my mother, Mutoka.
I remembered the sacrifice of leaving the soccer teams I loved and played in the youth academy Lupopo and later went to Mazembe by the help of my mother's colleague who played for a while for those teams. I regretted for leaving the Dojo or Karate clubs. I was respected in the Karate competitions were the family dominated sometime taking even half of the provincial medals from my uncles and cousins: called Disashi, Mwamba, Bashala, Mukala, Salomon Mulumba and me. We were classed in the different weight and I was in the last weight category. Other uncle like Tshimpuki and Charles Stephan were already in the 40's and left the art martial. Tshimpuki the gynecologic was boxer, he was known of having hit his trainee and left the gym forever. Charles Kangodia was the only one who did wrestling. But other loved Karate except Kapitene and Kaninda were not frequent in the dojo and were not entering the competitions. And the only woman in they family Mutoka only played women soccer for funs. We have to admit that uncle Disashi was the best Karateka and it him who trained all of us. He was a mentor to all of us.
I missed some of my family, neighbours and friend such Tshamala Ilunga who used to play for the Lupopo youth academy and who brought me there. I missed a friend of mine who lived in the suburb called Kigoma in Lubumbashi, Kakuji, Angelina my sweat heart who lived just few houses away from our house, the clubs colleagues and many more�

It was really a sacrifice for me to be a priest. I decided to talk and open my all heart. I look at father Numbi and decided to tell what I heard in my heart. I told him for about 10 minutes my love, my passion, my dream to serve God as a catholic priest. Admitting that I am a human with qualities and weaknesses. I told him that I was prepared to leave every pleasure of the world just to serve God. I loved the traditional and conservative catholic Opus Dei. Father Theodore who was an Opus Dei in Lubumbashi was initiating me to the conservative practices but my uncles were standing on my way.

Already natural people light in skin were suspected of being a natural good witches or being associated to magic. I wondered for a while if it was the reason the priest was reluctant to take me to seminary.

Not all the priests were member of the conservative version: Opus Dei. It had 85 000 member only 2000 were priests. Out of 115 Pope only 2 were member of Opus Dei, out of 4500 bishop only 40 were Opus Dei members. Opus Dei meant work of God. I insisted while the seminary number one was watching me.

Father Numbi was a man of very little worlds. Talking very slowly with pr�cised, controlled words. He let me talk. I think that while I was talking he was studying me. Priests were good philosophers. The part of their training at grand seminary were 3 years of studying philosophy and 3 years of theology plus one to two years of practical and one or more years for specific studies.

He then after I finished talking told me: "Go and fetch right away your bags."
I then knew that I was admitted I passed the interview. It was good news to me. I won the heart of the director and it was a key to become a priest.

I thanked him and went to fetch my beg. I was already on my way to be a priest and especially a at the place I wanted to.

Two days after being admitted at the seminary. I was training in the sport ground with anther Karate expect I found there. Very few people at the seminary knew the art martial. Most of the students who joined the seminary were from Manono. Most of them were from the surrounding village.

At that time I was a junior red or maroon (brown) belt in Karate. One belt away bellows the black belt first degree. The man with whom I was training with didn't have any belt. His name was Paul a graduated from petit seminary waiting for the transport to join the grand seminary.

He was about ten year�s senior than me. He knew many techniques having practiced Karate for many years but didn't have any one to promote him. He was physically fit, makes good in Kumite (fight) but didn't know all the Katas (imaginary fight).

In this underprivileged world far from the biggest towns, they were cut from the belt grading. People who could have been black belt in town didn't have any belt. No one of the Karate association was prepared to go in the town far away to give them belt promotions.

After a series of exercises, Katas and we started doing some Kumite (fight). While we were doing Kumite all the other future priest come to look at the spectacles. After at about 30 minutes of fight we started exchanging some fight techniques.

It was really a spectacle not only my colleagues were watching me but also people passing stopped and come to look at us the way we were training.

I felt some how very shy. I was thought that karate was a self defense sport not a sport to show to people how you can defend yourself. It was more like a self secret weapon�

He then at the end advised me to visit two local karate clubs time to time. One of them was just 200 meters from the seminary.

It was Friday when we trained. I was waiting for the coming Thursday to attend the next training session in the club.

Monday, the priest director of the seminary Numbi, decided to names the students who will help him in administration of the seminary. He called us in the dining rooms at about 7 in the afternoon.

We were almost 27 priest�s students at the seminary. 22 were old student who were already in the seminary and five were new students.

He gave some post to the students who he felt had the capacity in specifically field. Most of the posts were given to old people who were already in the seminary the previous years: the head student, the vice head student. Theology, very important task to look after the chapel and all the spiritually matters. The kitchen, to look after the food stock and time to time helping the chief to cook when he is off duty. And library, was the post that I envied.
Then the biggest surprise was that the last post to look after the cleaning of the yard, farming and sport went to me.
I was still very new to this life. In less than a week I was given the task.

I recall the priest insisting on repeating my name twice: "Dicho, Dicho you are in charge of the manual work and the sport�"

It was a big surprise to me. I didn't like it. I was not expected to get a task in my first year and on top of that I felt that it was an injustice giving me a new man in the house a post. A man that the priest refused to admit first and then suddenly have a post after tow days

In our interview we didn't touch the sport activities. How he knew that I loved sport? Karate wasn't the only sport I was practicing; I did practice soccer too and was even dreaming of playing for a big soccer in Katanga.

It was a mystery to me. Did he saw us training last Friday in the sport ground? Did he contacted the priests from Lubumbashi to know my life? Did he choose me by coincidence? Even by coincidence out of 27 students only me fitted the sport?
Still a big mystery to me. I suspected that may be he saw us training the previous Friday.

It didn't end there. To make the matter worst he added that our responsible were not ending at the seminary but was extended to our school.

The school was own by priests. They were almost one thousand students. We were mixed with other local students at school. The
Principal wasn't a priest. All the priests at seminary were teacher too at school. And also many teachers were not priests.

The difference in term of age with teachers were not that much.
Most of the teachers didn't go to university. It was just the previous students after graduating from the college were given the job.

For example if you were good in English you were given the English subjects. Most of the teachers were in their early twenties. And people from grade 11 and twelve were just friends to those young teachers.

The school had two sections: Literature was they had 2 majors� subjects: French and Latino. It was a suitable section to pursue if you have to become priest. In the Catholic Church Latino was a very important language. Honesty it was a section that suited me too, I was once very good in French that I got many awards for it. But my mother didn't want me to follow her foot steps and I end up avoiding literature session because my mother did it.

Many of future priest were in that section.
Then Scientific with two majors� subjects: Mathematics and Physics. Very few future priests were doing that section. I remember that we were two doing this section from the seminary. Many people were that option. I choose this section because I loved something very challenging. I knew a lot French. My mother and uncle were talking to us in French at the early age and in the family we were talking French instead of local dialects. It was only with the grand parents that we were struggling to talk Africans language.
I remember a neighbour teasing my uncle: "Why you talk among yourself the language of colonists?" I used to tease my mother because she was struggling to talk dialects like Swahili and the dialect from Kasai.
I then realized that my parents could also put much interest in talking the locals dialects instead of talking only French. It was a common problem in Congo. Many families neglected the local languages. I saw many parliament sessions were they talked proudly Africans languages but not the Congolese parliament.
Both sections had minor common subjects: religion was very important for we future priest, moral, civism the most boring subject were we were studying the political regime of the dictator Mobutu, chemistry, scientific drawing, history, economist, dissertation, philosophy also important for those who had to be priest, the strange subject gymnastic were we had very less note but physical exercise most of the time and manual work.

This last subject manual work was only Saturday after nine in the morning until twelve. We were cleaning the yard and doing some job in fixing the school.

It was a very interesting subject but didn't have any max. It was a good idea to teach pupil to deal with some simple and manageable house reparation and cleaning the classes, the yard and taking care of the school farm too.

Gymnastic was viewed by many as a waste of time. But many people failed to pass classes because of this subject. Some subjects were not on the matrix final exams like: Gymnastic, moral and manual work.

I wasn't good in Mathematics that time but I choose to do Mathematics. It was also a good subject if I had to be a medical doctor. It was one of the requirements to be admitted in a medical school.

There was no way to refused father's Numbi nomination. He was a man of very little words, very disciplined too.
We were very scared of him we could notice his coming or his passing by the smell of his perfume. He was using a special strong perfume.

We were working up at five in the morning. Get ready and half past five we were attending the morning service to the local chapel for thirty minutes. Then thirty minutes of meditation. After meditation we were having breakfast. After the breakfast of only 15 minutes by quarter to seven in the morning we were going for school.

We used to walk in our group. Then the normal schools were ending at quarter to one. Then we were returning to the seminary. The walk to school was about 45 minutes. And immediately after arriving at half past one we had our meal.

Then the priests were following us to school with their bicycles.

Then after the meal we were going for a rest. Then at tree we were going to the chapel for another hour of pray and meditation. In the
At 4 in the afternoon we were doing various job. It where I was in charge. Someday to clean the yard. Someday to do sport. Someday to do farming�

Those who were in standard 12 were not obliged to attend those activities because they were doing extract school lessons to prepare the matrix examination.

The head student was in charge of making sure that we respect the time table.

Those future priests who were punished were forced between four to half past six to work in the farm for a certain period.

And at seven in the afternoon we had another one hour of pray and meditation. After that we had the evening meal. Then from eight to ten in the evening we were studying our school materials.

Then at ten everybody had to go to sleep.
Sunday was little bit different. We were going to the service in the cathedral and from there we were going to visit friends and family and were allowed to return to our home before half past six.

Sunday we were all helping the priest in the service and some were members of the local church choir.
The most role we wanted in the church service was to hold the cross or ascent.

We were eating in the morning bread with tea. In the middle of the day the local food pap made on based of maize with fish or others meat and vegetable especially cassava leaves.
In the evening it was rice and bean. It was quiet a boring meal everyday without any exception.
I even lost the taste of bean may be of the continuing repeat those evening meal.
We were much respected in the area and specially the surrounding villages. Some part of that land they used to take us as already priests. Some colleagues were even forced to perform the churches services and even doing the funerals services.

They were very few priests in that diocese while the population was quiet large.

Manono for me was like a small earth paradise. No crime, especially in our suburb Makomeno we knew each other and were like a big family.
In Manono they used to greet everybody you meet on street. They could even greet you five times. Each time you meet someone you have to greet him. And the most popular words was "Wafwako" it was used as greeting, compassion words, thank you, encouragement�

People used to share meal with strangers�They were no beggars or homeless people. No robbery, no murders. For all the years I stayed in that town we had only one murder.

Two men were fighting over a woman and another man wearing boot hit the other man below is stomach and the man died accidentally.

It was the biggest incident that everybody kept talking for many days.
They were few cars. We all knew all the cars and their owners in the city. The hospital ICA had like seven cars. The diocese had like 8 cars in total. The dying company Zaire-Etain (Etain means tin) had like 10 old cars. Few businesses in the city had less than 20 trucks in total.

Zaire Etain hospital wasn't able to serve all the population. There was only one doctor called Ilunga. He was nicknamed "doctor amputates" because he used to amputate a lot. People were even scared to even go to see him with wound on their leg and arms.

He was also leaving near by and his son Baron Ilunga becomes later a good friend and young brother in that land. It was by pure coincidence that we shared the same surname.

In total the city in total could have less than fifty cars permanent, other cars were visiting the city or it was transport cars or businessmen cars.

But they were thousands of bicycles it was the most suitable and most reliable transport.

Thursday, afternoon I took my karate suit called Kimono and went to join the family of karate men in the closest karate club. That club was called Okapi club. I don't know why they choose to name the club after an animal!

It was in an abandoned big house. In the big yard were herbs and trees were freely growing. No one was taking care of the club.
There was no roof in that club.

I found some seven Karateka training. If I knew that no one had a kimono in that club I could have brought my soccer shirt instead of differentiating my self with the karate suit with a red belt with my name written in Japanese.
I found everybody in various clothes: soccer short, boxing short, ordinary shorts and old pants�

I become more than an object of curiosity than someone who comes to gym. Most of the athletes were in their twenties. No one had a belt. They were very disadvantaged. Some were already training for about 15 years without having any belt while in the biggest town people get promoted after some months.

They were very good physically but locked little bit in speed and Katas. Like all the club we start with physical exercises, then some techniques ending with conventional fight called Kumite. This man for me could be classed in the heavy weight category and me in the light category or fly.

It looks like I was an enemy than a fellow karate man. After the two stages of practicing we were about to end the training with conventional fight.

I was expecting a very normal fight. But it look that I was in the street or jungle were they were no rules.
The vice captain of the club ordered me to fight him. We started with greeting:" Yoi, Rei" then the fight start order: "Adjime"

I was about to finish my greeting symbol in uplifting my head when I got a powerful side kick (Yoko) well premised below my stomach.
I said to myself immediately as I bent in pain: "What is this?"

It looks like very premeditated moves willing to hurt me than training. More like a street kick to defend himself.

I could recall a warning of one of my uncle who was training me when I was very young: "� be careful when you bent your head in Karate greeting."
I couldn't continue the training. At the end of the session I ignore the previous incident and greeted them and introduced my self.

I returned my self to my new home and started training alone at the small break squeezed between the evening pray and evening meal.

In my mind I was full of disappointment trying to return to the club and revenge my defeat. Praying that Thursdays, I was 13 years old that time and was just a junior weighting may be 45 kg or 50 kg who has to stand against seniors athletes.

The next week, I returned to the club waiting impatiently the Kumite moment while exercising with other karate man. All the exercises were not interesting me. Then come the time I was waiting for. The karate club founder was present this day. He was also rare to the club because of his work commitment. He was called master Bondo a very quiet and friendly man.

He was not training but was among the small crown the training. The vice captain asked a volunteer to step on the ring while others were watching. No one stood for a couple second I don't know what they were waiting for because it was just a training session not a beating session.

This time the club had 9 karate man. The biggest man in the club nicknamed Bruce come to training too, last training session he was not present. I stood up first to be volunteer waiting for my adversary to enter. Then I saw the biggest man surely twice my size stepping in.

I was confident my self with my revenge method. Bruce joined me. While everybody were spectacularly watching some kind of Goliath and David fighting. The man surely was double my weight size.

The man's face wasn't for someone who comes to train. It was like someone who comes on mission and was waiting for the time to accomplish it. His eyes were red like someone who was crying early.

He was wearing a long short without anything on his chest. I could see all his muscle like a weight lifter. I don't know why I wasn't scared?

I was already aware that it won't be a conventional fight. With the soft friendly kicks and precise kick. I worked a lot on my defense guard and blocks at the seminary.

Exactly after the greeting and the fight order. The man was coming jumping on me with only a combination of kick: Right side kick. He started pushing me rather than kicking. I concentrated a lot of guarding my self with my arms blocking preventing those unusual kick of reaching my body.

It worked I protect my body but I couldn't handle his size of feet. He kept pushing me but I didn't fall. It look like he wanted me to fall and I don't know what he wanted to do next.

I could see the frustration of the big man face of getting upset not succeeding in his plan. He was terrible slow.
When he got tired I attacked him with very careful legs combine with hand kicks: " Yoko, Mawashi, Mayi Geri..." I caught him on his left cheek.

I don't know what he wanted to do next. When I had a man in crowd screaming: �You two stop now it is enough".
It was Bondo the club founder. Then he entered the club.

I saw him calling aside Bruce Lee and shut at him.
He then come to me and apologized for the brutality of his student. I realized that they were no weight division here; they were no training session in fight. And those fight had no rules. It was real fight and I had to adapt to this practices. So I have to double the effort.

I went back to the priest home. My arms that were protecting my body were burning all night. I don't know what could have happened to me if I didn't have those few karate knowledge to protect me.

I kept attending time to time the club training until we become very good friends with all the Karate students in that club. The priest at the seminary kept allowing me to join the Thursday karate afternoon training until we formed a soccer team at the seminary.

All the future priest were playing soccer and Volley Ball. I was in charge of the sport and was automatically the captain of the seminary soccer team and the school soccer team at the same time.

Then I had to choose a priority. I loved karate but the majority of people were soccer players. Then I joined the majority and become very rare at the Okapi karate club.

The only time I could train karate was when I was squeezing time in the interval of the time table and training mostly alone.

At school in the early days in Manono people here were not making fun of my name meaning bullet in Swahili but started teasing of my skin colour.

But people started nicknaming me "Utshila" in their local dialect meaning "red".
I didn't noticed first when I kept hearing people talking in the classroom and the especially in the school break.

I didn't know the local dialect "Kiluba". In the province of Katanga people were talking all over "Swahili". A broken Swahili different to the original one brought in Eastern by Arabs.

It was mixed to various local dialects creating a different Swahili to those talked: Tanzania, Kenya, Uganda, Rwanda and Burundi.

But each and every part of the province had their own traditional dialect. Like in Manono and the northern part of Katanga province their talked Kiluba but knew Swahili too.

This time Kiluba was a new language to me. I had a chance to talk in my early days I talked Kisanga a language much more similar to Kiluba.

I heard people talking in Kiluba in a break but kept saying a word that I didn't know, utshila. I kept wondering what the meaning of �uthila� was.

Until a colleague of the seminary revealed to me that they were teasing me that I was red.
I immediately said: "again!"
I recalled all the school I went to they were teasing me about my name and the colour of skin. It is the last thin I expected in this area. At least here my name wasn't an issue.

I recalled all the troubles I went through because of these nicknamed they give me.
I wondered what to do to stop a little bit these practices. Hitting back in fighting wasn't the solution.

The master of the art martial taught us never to loose our cool and fight in street. It was forbidden to fight unless is necessary in extreme case of self defense. They even advised to stay away of trouble or even run instead of taking risk to fight.

I wasn't anymore the same man. I was a new man who was committed to be a priest and it was one of the main reason not to retaliate. I had to accept like a lamb to be tortured without hitting back.

It was the sadness moment of the new place where I have to live for the next fours years.

Then time to time now. Many people started calling me now. Father utshila at school. We were far from being priest but in the city were calling us already father.

It was also one a motivator to stick to the rules of the priest and be real qualified priest. Many colleagues from seminaries started behaving like priest already. Many were already wearing prematurely eye glasses. Some were advised by the doctors to wears those glasses. In our rooms they were a lot light and it was affecting our eyes.

Many colleagues started changing their way of walking: walking slowly like cat. The way of talking using many Biblical words. Changing the tune of their voice: talking slowly and very less. Even the way of eating imitating the priests who were looking after us.

Everybody had his favorite role model priest and tried to imitate. Most of the future priests were friend to their role model priest. Except the director of seminary father Numbi wasn't that friendly. I believed that it was may be because of his role.

Many priest used to join us in our sport activities but not father Numbi. All the priests were sport men. But father Numbi was lifting heavy old cars spares.
At seminary the priests in charge were in their late twenties or early thirties.

We didn't have lifting equipment but we made a plan using heavy car parts as weight lifting equipment. And it was working. Father Numbi for example and very few future priest who were lifting those part were tough and big.

I wasn't lifting any thing. I didn't want to loose my speed most needed in karate. Instead I was doing many push up.

I had the impression that father Numbi was walking one sided because of continuity lifting heavy stuff.

Still father Numbi was implementing the discipline.
My favorite priest was father Luhamba. The most talkative man in the all seminary and also in the all diocese of Manono. He was talking and joking with everybody. In the city he used to mix with all sort of people.

Very different to most of the priest who were not talking a lot. A man who could sing loud gospel song in riding is bicycle. You could hear him even meters away singing riding his bicycle. Day or night. He was involved with the choir�s activities in many catholic churches in Manono.

But strange enough. He was also very committed spiritually.
Very few kept their natural character. I wasn't that much tempts to change my natural but I liked that priest.

First I thought father Luhamba had some mental disturbance. Sometime we used to see him making the cross sign at each intersection of the road: In the name of the father, son and holy spirit holding his chaplet.

Sometime during stormy rain. We used to see out on the rain walking and praying accompanied by cross sign. I wonder if he was trying to prevent the lighting of hitting people.

Sometime he was the only priest we saw chasing demon after a series fasting. We were not seeing demon but we presumed that he was delivering people.

He used to pray for people who were sick, tormented in the seminary chapel and we could hear sometime those people screaming strangely. It is why we were suspecting that he was chasing demons.

He was teacher of religion and economic in the school. He was also involved in farming just outside Manono. He was quiet a busy man. It is why I said that you could hear him coming singing riding his bicycle day or night.

Sometime he was coming back very late at night. When he was around before we sleep he could come and chart with us. Telling us funny stories.

I think that father Numbi was not appreciating that sometime. Because he used to chart to us in our studying period.

It was sometime disturbing for us to. When trying to concentrate to study hearing a man coming with stories not relating to our preoccupations at that time.

I think that he was reproached some time because he slowly stopped disturbing us at our study time.

In my two months I had a problem with the nickname they were trying to give me once trying to describe me, "utshila".

Then I started accepting that name despite my feeling. When I used to meet people on street calling me: "Utshila how are you?"
I could respond with ease: "I am fine".

Then I noticed after like 4 months. That people started slowly giving up that name. They started calling me by my name Dicho.

I didn't realize this phenomenon. Then in 6 months people completely stopped giving all the sort of nicknames.

I later realize that it was my attitude that help me. If I was reacting angrily to that name. I think people couldn't stop calling me "Red man"

When I was young I used to react once I hear those sorts of names related to skin: "I will hit you�I will beat you up�" but because this time I just accepted without reacting people stopped themselves.
I even got used all those names sometimes turned into jokes but at start it was always a problems.

Manono was far from the capital city of the province Katanga, Lubumbashi. Not that far but what makes more far it was the bad state of the road.

Even to send a letter to my friend and family in Lubumbashi was very difficult. The post office wasn't really existing. I had to wait until priest or someone I know goes to Lubumbashi to give him a letter.

The post office existed more by name but letters were not reaching their destination. Especially, big parcel.

Because they were not a rail way. The airplane could have been a suitable transport but planes were not coming.

I think that it was because they didn't have many customers. Planes were still luxury too many people were not able to buy the plane tickets.

Because of all those difficulties. I had to go home once a year. At the end of our academic year in July.

We had two big break. At the end of December to the beginning of January, a two weeks breaks. Then in April for two weeks.
This time I was going to live with my uncle Tshimpuki in Manono while the other future priests were going home.

Some were had their home far too. Some had their family at 200 kilometers and behind. They used to take the opportunist cars they could find.

Many times their used to hire or use bicycles to go home. Some were even walking.

It was always important to take advantage of those breaks to recharge the energy. All these daily routines were tiresome. Just to see family members and friends was an energy recharge on it own.

We had many one day holiday: "the birth day of then president Mobutu, the day Mobutu took power, the day his mother mama Sese passed away, the celebration of the only political party M.P.R�"

We had very few time to listen to music or be entertained. The city had no television antenna to capture television even though the city was having 24 hours electricity.

Many city of Manono genres had no electricity. It was a blessing on it own. We hardly listen to the radio. We had no FM frequency but could capture one radio station from Lubumbashi in AM frequency. The quality of reception was very poor.

The only Congolese radio station we were capturing in AM frequency with ease was the Kasai radio station. The main problem it was from another province and sometime their were talking in their own dialect.

We could capture Radio France and other French channel on AM frequency on night.

We had a chance to listen to the music because Saturday night we had a two free hours. We didn't have the study session. Then some priest with their radio could play some music.

And may be Sunday when we were allowed to visit families and friends we could listen to the music in the city.

They were no new paper in the city. Manono and many small towns and villagers were just another world. Far from the big city, far from the information and media. Far from the civilization and far of everything�

Then at school we started creating our own kind of entertainment. Sunday afternoon the teachers and other intellect of the city created a discussion platform called "Forum" ironically name taken from a popular discussing program on the radio station from Lubumbashi.

Coincidentally that radio program was hosted and produced by my mother: Mutoka. It where many people were spending time Sunday afternoon to discuss on the political, social, economic� topic.

They used to invite all the personality and visitor personality to talk about certain topic then after public were asking questions and exchanged viewed.

The sad part of this way to entertain was that only educated people were attending those meeting. While many people in the village weren't that much educated. Those discussion were taking place in
Zaire-Etain hall quiet far from the city.

Then we started a project from our school institute Mwinya and were later joined by all the school in the city: Plays.
Those were fast growing and the audience was much larger.
It was under the initiative of the principal of institute Mwinya. Mr. Olengakoyi.

It were I started my writing skill. I could write some parts of scripts and rarely acted in those plays. They were taking place in the Catholic Church hall just in the middle of the city.

Sometime plays were taking place Saturday night or even Sunday. Here the priests were allowing us to attend those plays.

Another way of entertainment was to watch various local teams playing soccer Sunday afternoon. Sometime when there is a local interesting game. Many people could attend the game and bringing a total chaos.
Soccer was the most played sport. I haven�t seen a place where there was no soccer ground. Some of the grounds had no grass at all, sometime had only sands but people enjoyed playing there.

The ground had no seat and all the people were watching standing around the soccer pitch. Making more difficult for many to see properly the game.

At the same time it was difficult for players to express themselves. Some people used to invade the soccer pitch bringing chaos.

Zaire-Etain, the tins exploiter had quiet a good stadium with seat but people were not going there to watch. It was far from city.
While trying to bring the game to people, it was bringing chaos to the people at the same time.

And later we started some music and martial sport project. To be seen later.

At the academic end of the year 1988- 1989. I was anxious to go in holiday in Lubumbashi.
I missed friends, family and Lubumbashi it self were I was born.

July-September the biggest school holiday many people too were going to Lubumbashi making difficult to find transport. I was obvious a priority for the priest cars or hospital cars under my uncle umbrella but sometime they had a different time table to go to Lumbashi�

Other businessmen cars were full booked in this holiday.

Then I heard that the catholic Archbishop of Manono was going to Lumbashi. We weren't connected much to this man who was the priest boss. He was on top of everybody. Even priests were much scared of him what about me who was just a student?

I always had plenty of murmur that he wasn't so friendly with man especially young one. It was the best 4 by 4 available car to take me to Lubumbashi but the owner was the last man to allow me to enter into his car.

I remember that one of the archbishop name was Ngoy. Then Ngoy is just the most popular name in this part of the world. Many people here had Ngoy as name or so name.

My seminar colleagues advised me not even to think of contacting the archbishop to ask him for the permission to be transported.

Anxious to return to Lubumbashi after spending one year far my city. I refused to listen.
I went to see the archbishop secretary. A well respected woman called Mbombo. All the people were suspecting her of being the archbishop wife.

It was a good campaign too for other non catholic church to attack the catholic church. I don't think she was the archbishop wife. First she was married in Manono and had many children. His husband was well known.

Secondly the archbishop was very old to be a lover. He was in the late 70's may be. You know in Africa very few people could reach that age. Not only that he was a catholic archbishop were marriage of the priests, brothers, bishop�was forbidden.

I went to see Mbombo she the one who had the key. She was the secretary and the bishop was already blind and couldn't see at all. It what makes more Mbombo powerful. Even the priest owe her respectable. She is the only one who was reading and even writing all the document. She was the Archbishop secretary of the Diocese.

The woman gave me a warm welcome. I wondered why? I was just a simple student. She told me what everybody told me that the archbishop won't allow me to get into his car. They were many places in that car but it was impossible to enter.

Then when I was about to leave her office. She strangely look at me and told me: " I will make a plan for you". I told her that in two weeks anyway I could have another transport.
Even my title of a future priests didn�t help us. I think may be he has experienced something very bad and changed his view of young people: ordinary one of future priests. He has lost trust into young people even young priests were always complaining. But he had no problem with girls or woman.

Then she let me go. At that time, I was planning to leave in the afternoon the priest�s house and go to my uncle place. It was the beginning of the holiday.

I went to see first Numbi the seminar director to give me the report. It was an important report my key to return to the priest school. It was composed of the school report. And specially the moral. All the priests who used to look after us. Where meeting to look at our behaviors: spiritually and social behaviors�

The biggest sin in the house of priests was sexual misconduct. They were not stopping us of talking to women at school, at our house during visit hours, in street or at the church Sunday.

They believed that we were human and had the right to socialize. But it was unacceptable when they catch you in the sexual activities.

Many people were chased in the seminary due to sexual misconduct. They condoms weren't popular that time in that part of the world. AIDS was almost non existing in this part of the world. We were hearing AIDS on radio but never seen someone in real life having AIDS. It was viewed as a disease of few rich people. Because wealthy people had many wives.

So those future priests who were cheating used to impregnating their secret lovers and the priest were easily finding out. It was like a curse, many of cheaters who were expelled swore that they only slept with the woman once and the woman got pregnant.
There is only one future priest I know who didn�t in pregnant a woman but was caught by the girl�s family.
It was a Sunday afternoon where we had time to hang around the township and returns before six at the seminary. The girl was sent by her parent to a market but met the future priests who was friend to her and he took her to his friend�s place in the township. But because the girl took longer, her parents started looking for her. After asking some witnesses if they saw their daughter, they were told that they saw her entering a certain back room.
It is how he was caught and to make the matter worst the parent of the girl was the Manono�s prison chief and he was arrested immediately.
It was a hell for the future priest. We visited him in the prison�s cell we find about 8 people in a small room sleeping on the floor with no cover or even beds. The prisoners had no food. The family�s members had to come everyday to give them food. Sometime if the food is nice the prison�s guards eat it. Sometime they will ask for bribe to give the food to the person you are visiting.
People had no toilet, they eat, urine and shit in that small room.
The tea, dinner and supper where whip that they were giving to prisoners. So many people used to die in that custody. The future priest�s cheater lost all his weight in less than 4 days. The priests tried their best to make the student�s realize, his family was from far in Malemba and once he was realized he was immediately fired.
We heard all the stories how people were even tortured and kill in that jail. One of them was the popular way of introducing a thorn stick at the anus of prisoner turns it and pull out the human�s intestine from the back.
The respected priests had to contact various authorities to make realized their students. And beg for forgiveness to the father of the girl.
It wasn�t really a prison but a death sentence facilities where many opposition�s activist has died.
He was also saved by the two big brothers of the girl who begged for their father to forgive the young boy and their sister who was recently beaten. She was the only girl in the families and the others were boy.
The two brothers were good friend of some of the seminarist because we attended the same schools. And they were more understanding.
Many parents cherished they girl�s virginity. Their dreamed of their daughter to be married as virgin. A girl who sleeps with boys before the wedding was a curse to the family.
But the new generation of children were cheating the traditional rules. Influenced by the new culture and the habits from big town. Many of the girls started going out with boys without getting married but in a secret.

The others requirements to return to the priest�s house were: church attendance, respect, sport commitment, school conduct, conduct�The school reports were important an non clever man couldn't pass classes and matrix to go to the big seminary. So some of the requirement to return to the seminary.

I knew that I didn't commit many bad doing and my school report was excellent and was confident to return for the next academic session. And thing went according my way when the seminar director gave me the expect report and told me to return.

The same afternoon when I took my bags and went to my uncle's house. I heard his wife, Many asking: "Which business I had with Mbombo a married woman?

I told her that I went early at the archbishop office to ask for transport. She told me that she come to my uncle's house and let the message that I have to see her at her house at night.

I knew that I have a transport to Lubumbashi. It was already 5 in the afternoon. Her house was situated at 5 kilometers from the suburb of Manono: "Makomeno". I went straight away to Mbombo's house.

When I arrived she calmly told me to bring the next day a bag but warned me in telling me that I have to keep my month shut in the car.

It was very challenging but I had no choice if I had to go to Lubumbashi early.

The following day, I took my bag at around midday at the archbishop office to get transport. The archbishop had not to know that I am on board. He was blind but could have listened to me if I talk.

The car could have transported even 10 people but only 5 people had to take place: the archbishop himself, Mbombo the secretary of the diocese, his domestic worker, the driver and another woman.
I have to be honest Mbombo was beautiful; she was light in complexion and had a slim body. She was the kind of women�s teenagers may dreams of having or don�t mind to cheat with if the opportunity comes.
I wonder why the woman wanted an unwanted man in the car to be aboard? Why she have to take a risk for me? Why she has to break his boss rule? Why she has to take the risk because of me? Too many unanswered questions were running on my mind.

Before I got aboard the car she told all the 4 passengers not to talk to me. The driver of the car argued but later decided to obey to the secretary's rule.

The driver of that 4 by 4 had to drive slowly due to the bad wealth of the archbishop. The trip by small car like this one used to take two days and the other big trucks one week to a month depending to the state of the car and the state of the road.

In winter the trip was talking less days compare to summer due to the deterioration of the rod due to rain. It was winter that time.

I kept my month shut. How was scared that if I want to go to the toilet. No one could stop for me to go to toilet because I was just an illegal in that car.

Mbombo despite my pocket money given by my uncle to buy food for me, gave me food and didn't want me to buy any food when the driver was stopping at some villager for a break.

I kept wondering what really Mbombo wanted from me? Taking risk allowing me to get in the car. Who was I to be carried like this? I had no connection with Mbombo until I took a risk to ask for transport.

At some stage of the trip. It was an unforgettable trip because I had to hold my breath and force myself to not even cough. But it was a very comfortable journey in a Land Cruiser with nice seat and air conditioner.
It was always difficult to hide in someone else car. Even though the old priest, archbishop was blind still the instinct were there.

He asked twice to his secretary if a young man was in the car? But Mbombo responded with anger to his boss telling him to stop thinking of a stranger in the car. The other archbishop servants: the driver and the domestic kept quiet.

They were just to scare of Mbombo the iron lady of the diocese of Manono. May be it wasn't the right thing to do to get aboard a car without the authorization of the car owner taking advantage of his disability. If I had to find myself in this situation today, I think I cannot do those kinds of things.

I missed so much Lubumbashi, friends and family.
I was back in town just for two months and I had to make those moment very precious.

We arrived in Lubumbashi after 3 days. The archbishop had a house there not far from my house. I thanked Mbombo for taking a risk to give me a lift in her bosses car.

I didn't wait for long. When I took my bag to rush to my house but when I was about to leave the gate I heard Mbombo calling me:
"Dish why are you in rush?"

I wondered where she got the second short cut of my name: Dish. The first short cut was Dicho from Disashi. At least she didn't know my nickname Prince.

I apologized for leaving early. She told me that she wanted her driver to give me a lift. I told her that our house was near by. She sad that this was a big town and we were already 8 hours in the evening. I should wait to get a lift.

I accepted her offer and at around 9 in the evening they give me a lift home. It was quiet a joy to be reunited with my family. I found my mother with dictionary on the table writing the radio or TV programs.

I kept wondering what was wrong with this married woman Mbombo?

She comes to me: �My prince you are back".
I look at her. A short very disciplined light in complexion woman. I wasn't happy to see writing. She used to do it everyday of her life. With no writing machine. She has to write and make sure that it is readable for herself of other journalists.

She was born in Kasai in the town of Mbuji Mayi. After hearing by accident a woman talking at her far neighbour radio. She felt in love with journalist.

Her family after moving to Kananga returned for a short period to Mbuji Mayi in the province of Kasai after a tribal fight where she was studying under the trees. Then her father Disashi took her, her brother Tshimpuki the one who works in Manono and her mother Lusamba to Katanga in the town of Kolwezi first where he works like an ambulance driver.

At 19 years old. My mother Mutoka was married for tree years and moved to Lubumbashi where his family followed her later. She had two children and was pregnant when they divorced. The two kids were taken away with her former lover.
She told me long ago that it was because of abuses. I cannot comment on that because I wasn't there.

To study alone for a woman was a crime because the African man had a problem to control and live with a much educated woman.

At 22 years old she worked for a bank and was doing sociology at university when she had an advice that they were looking for a female journalist.

She lied at work that he was sick to attend the interview and one week after the interview her boss heard her name on radio. When they were calling her and congratulating her for succeeding to the interview. The bank manager was the man who announced the news and knew why she was absent last week.

The manager begged her to stay at the bank and asked gave her promotion but she refused. The bank was paying at that time tree time the journalist salary.

She pursued her dream job. The same years she met my father Ilunga but had a short love spell. My father Ilunga was married and she wanted to go to Germany to study as a journalist for two years.

Then before she leaves the bank she gave birth to me and left me ironically with the wife of Ilunga. After two years she returned and took me back. 3 months later Ilunga moved to Kinshasa.

He wanted to leave with me but my mother this time won in keeping me.

Then met a high educated Doctor Tshilombo who was a director of the university clinic and had one child before divorcing. I though with this high educated man and mother highly educated two they shouldn't have stayed but things didn't work.

The biggest company in Congo that time was Gecamines and based in Lubumbashi. They were recruiting the best personnel they could get. And everybody in the country wanted for that company. They knew that Mutoka was having a degree in industrial sociology and was journalist having a diploma from Bonn in Germany too.

They sent her many letters but she declined all those offers. She chose to die journalist. And it look like she was serious because even now she still doing the same profession in Paris.

I read some of the Gecamines letter. It is look like ever years they were calling for her.

After her third marriage failure. She accepted that she cannot live with any African man. She couldn't accept anymore men. But God had another plan.

A vice governor of the province of Katanga: "Alemo" saw her on television and decided to win her heart.
After one years of trying won my mother's heart. He took her in marriage had four children.

But marriage wasn't her happiness. Alemo arrived late at the airport to welcome the dictator Mobutu when he come to visit Katanga and was fired on spot. He ends up going to capitol city time to time to look for suitable job.

Mutoka was the first born of a family of 8 all of them men. And supported not only her children but also his brother.
I understand why she has a disciplined and strong character. With 7 naughty brothers you have to be strong to look after them.

Sometime he was leaving for two years and return to visit his children for a month. This wasn't really a happy relationship.
She ends up raising six children alone plus looking after her family. The other two children bigger than me George and Mamy Mukuna were taken by their father. Sometime men had too much authority that they could even takes children whenever they want. Apparently they were 2 years old and few months old when their father decided to take them.

So I become very crucial in helping her to raise the young one. Because she was to busy, I had to look after the 5 young brothers and sisters: Monique Lusamba, Alain John Alemo, Marie France Aleko, Jacques Alemo and Blanchard Mutoka Alemo.

I was the one to look after their school home work, to know where they were and solve many of their problems�

So leaving my mother to enter in the priest house was a big sacrifice for me and the all family too. Monique my young sister had to take my role she was one year younger than me.

It why many people used to tease my mother most of us look at much different.

Then I arrived to see again the poor woman still doing the same thing writing the programs was shocking for me.

Lubumbashi had one state radio and one television station. Those few 20 people who were journalist there were known and respected but didn't have money.

Sometime they weren't paid for four to six months. The government couldn't pay all the unpaid months and could paid them may be for two months then forget all the unpaid period.

It was like that in all the administration work. Include the army. So everybody had to make another way of living with their job. It is why corruption becomes a normal practice. People were no more shy to ask for money for free services or shy of telling how they have paid for a specific service.

My mother has a business but the activities went down then started getting money in covering the manifestation and interviewing. The interviewed had to pay the interviewer some money.

Corruption becomes a normal thing. The Congolese passport become the most expensive passport, they were sold at 200$.

For example the traffic cops were not looking at people driver license. They kept asking all the documents beside the license: ID book, birth certificate�Once you show all the document they will keep asking you the document that you won't have such us: baptisms certificate and I heard some incident that they were asking for parents death certificate too.

It was clear that you had to give them money each time you see a traffic cop. They used to refuses promotion to seat in the office were there is no money.

The same with the teacher in public school. Parents had to contribute money to pay teachers. The teacher could give free max to undeserved students�

It why the best schools were the one run by priests.

At hospital you had to pay for all the consultations and medicines: from a needle to hospital bed�

The country was on chaos and was still sinking�The money inflation rate was unacceptable. Price of the bread increase each hour�

I spent my holiday in Lubumbashi visiting different friends, my uncles and grand parents.

My grand mother Lusamba was calling me her own child the last born of her family. She didn't want people to know that I was her grand child. And my mother was more like a big sister to me.

Then as I was growing I used to hear few people originated from Katanga on streets complaining here and there: "people from Kasai are taking our jobs, our opportunity, they are more successful�"

I could put any attention. Born in Lubumbashi not knowing my ancestor land I viewed myself and loved Katanga the only province I knew. All my origin was just part of story.

My days in Lubumbashi coincided with the arrival of a Karate expect we were calling him Sensei Park. He lived in Kinshasa and was an Asian. He arrived in Lubumbashi to give belt promotion.

It was just an opportunity for me and many others karate expect. We were 12 red belts and because the province didn't have many black belt expect. He promoted all of us to black belt first degree or fist Dan.
Then tree of my maternal uncles who were my karate teacher were promoted to black belt second degree or second Dan.

After two months in Lubumbashi I returned to Manono with the diocese car not the archbishop car.

This time I my mother gave me two photograph camera. It was a way of making some pocket money instead of waiting her to send me money.

Many photograph in Manono were priest even the most feared priest Numbi was a photograph. Sunday it was the day to make some money. And I had to send the negative to Lubumbashi to be developed.

I always had many negative with me. Sending negative to Lubumbashi and wait for their retune were taking two months.
My mother warned me and said: �Don�t take the photograph picture by credit. People are good with words to convince you but are not good with actions to pay. Giving by credit is to make enemies."
People were good in taking credit but were not good to pay back.
I didn't take it very seriously.

At school another man become trouble to me. A man that I see everyday but not living with us. The principal of school Mr.Olengakoyi. He kept following my life in and out of school.

He wasn't my father but he started day to day acting like a father. I remember I was in Manono town ship Sunday afternoon hanging up with school colleague.

I was given again the same role I heard to administrate the sport activities at school and at the priest home. I didn't like it again. I was targeting to be in charge of the library.

I felt in love with book and was writing not only plays but short stories too but father Numbi decided to give me the same work.

He called me and asked me why I was in the city. I told him that we are allowed as future priest to hang around. He asked me why I was walking strangely. I told him that I like walking that way.

Then he shut at me and told me to return immediately to the priests facility. This was just unacceptable he was my principal at school not after school.

Then the things were getting worse. He started reproaching me in public in the morning gathering.

In the era of Mobutu before working or study or do any activity. We were gathering and sing song praising Mobutu like a God: "the savior, the strong, may God be with him, the eternal president, the founder�"

I wonder why we were calling him the founder: "May be the founder of Congo and his people or the founder of the unique political party MPR"�MPR meant Popular Revolutionary Mouvement. All the money had his picture like a saviour. Each city had a statuttte of Mobutu and all the offices had his picture. We sang for Jesus Christ in the church and after church we sang the same kind of songs for Mobutu Sese Seko.
All the news started with Mobutu news and his family. Even if they were a major news in the world, it was less important than the dictators news. Some of the news were simply boring. Long speach repeated 3 times a days, in the morning, the launch time and evening.

Then at that time the principal Olengakoyi used to reproach me in public and the same time praising me too: "Our sport leader, our main writer, the future priest�"

Then he started calling me into his office time to time to introduce me to trouble makers and visitors: �this is my son�"

I wondered why he kept harassing me. I didn't grow up with my Biological father and a man that I met just claim me to be his son. Very strange to know what this man wanted from me. From nowhere he showed a strange interest in me.

When there were a students or teacher who was stubborn, the principal used to call me in his office even if I write the exams. When I will enter the office, I could hear him telling the stubborn students or teacher: "This is my son, hit him now" Obviously many people knew me as a karate expect and they will apologize sometime.
I knew that Olengakoyi used to call me sometime his son because he had no big boys only girls in the real life.
The school called Mwinya had two kind of teacher, the priests with whom we lived with were also teachers and the ordinaries people.
Those combination of love and hardship on me where difficult to understand.

I remembered that I slapped and chased at school another young boy who was when trying to tell him to run more in the sport field.

We were having a soccer match with the biggest state school of Manono in few days. I was in charge of training the pre selected players and making a plan to beat that school. They beat us for the pats two years and I was determined to change things around. As the automatic captain of the team that had no coach because the school belonged to the Catholic Church and I was the man in charge of sport. I was in charge of preparing the soccer team.

The boy was just in standard 6 and I was in standard 9. He was not showing any improvement but was a good player. I tried to motivate him. Then he insulted me: "enfant de mille pere".

I was not fighting on street but I could take this insult. It meant: "A child of thousand father".

I understood that if this strange man can insult me that mean they are many people who talk about me and mocking at me.

In Manono divorce was not existing. All the children grew up with their fathers and mothers. But me I grow up with my mother only. They haven't heard me talking or hear about my father.

For them my mother was a prostitute. And I was fruit of those sins. I could have hit me but when I realize that many people are laughing at me. I stop my intention and started crying.

This incident remained in my mind for many days. How that man knew me? How he took the courage to insulted me. With the help of many colleagues I come down.

The incident took place at school but fighting was forbidden. And I had to be punished but Olengakoy had no compensation to me. He gave me a big task in the school farm.

At the seminar I had to be punished to. All the wrong doing at school and on street were punishable at seminar, the priest house.

But the priests some how compensate with me and ignored the incident. They should have punished me to warn and teach the other future priest of not fighting but they ignore.
I understood later that living in a village were the woman were not divorcing and were living with their husbands for the rest of their life my mother�s case was just to strange to them. It was only in movies that they could see divorces.

I knew that it was their decision to ignore because the only talkative priest, father Luhamba didn't mention this incident.

Olengakoy become my nightmare. I didn't know what to do with this man.
Then Mbombo the secretary of the archbishop kept telling me why I don't visit her to her house each time we meet Sunday.

I refused visiting this strange married woman who shown an unexplainable interest in me.

As future priest we had our secret adventures. At this age when sex is interest to many teen. We were too as human to explore this phenomenon.

The cool priest Luhamba used to warn us saying: " young brothers the kingdom of God first and the rest after�" He always told us to abstain of this desire. He told us to be priest first before of thinking to human's flesh demand.

He often told us that once you are priest you can do any thing because no one will take away from us.
We felt already the pressure in the community some used to view us not as the priest to be but already priests.
Many of my colleagues from rural area were priests already back home. Some were forced to read the church service in the place were they were no priest. We were more respected that usher and everybody called us Monieur abb� or father in English.
Some of my colleagues told me the drama of reading the funeral, wedding service and other service in the far rural areas.

It was strange many people were chased on the house of priest because of impregnating woman. Many of those chased always said that they had sex with those women once.

It was like if the priest knew that all the cheaters will be caught one day. They were not shutting at us when talking to women. To make the matter worse our school was bisexual we were mixed with women. But in this rural area very few women were completing they studies.

It wasn't that important for women to study. The place of woman was in the kitchen. We could chat with girls Sunday after the church service at the cathedral or our visit in the city.

And we had a special and convenient place to meet women. At the small river or source.
The Petit seminary as they called the priest facility was situated in the North of Manono next to the ex mines. Those ex mines after many years become small Lakes and further far we had mountain.

Even though it was situated in the suburb, Makomeno where the important people and rich people lived far from the main city. We could make our way to the lakes surrounded by bushes and chat to the women we met.

Most of the time, we were just charting for fun. The water from the tab weren't drinkable and each time we were going to fetch some water we could see and chart to women.

Many priest found us chatting with women but no action were taken because it wasn't forbidden to talk to women. Few courageous priests to be were going far in dragging some woman in the bush and sleep with them.

In my knowledge most of the cheater were caught in impregnating women and were chased on spot. Only very few kept the secret unknown.

In the sport activity was also another way to squeeze some time to run. Some were claiming to run and find away out.

But a young woman called Jolie was the heartbreaker of all the boys in seminary. We don't know what was wrong with that woman. She was everybody favorite.

She was studying in our school institute Mwinya and was living in our suburb Makomeno. No one was trying to approach her but like her.

She was too special because she used to be very polite and respecting everybody. Even though respect was seen in all her village but hers was just too special. All the respect and her natural beauty made everybody to like her.

Even if some didn't love her but all the people loved her. Not only at the seminary but also in the city.

It happen that the tabs had a running problem for almost a week. Now that the undrinkable water was not running to the tabs we were forced to go to those lake and surrounding lake to wash our clothes and our body too and bring water to the priests to the seminar.

We had a chance to see even the rare young women to the ex mines. A good news too many of us and wished that water don't return to our tabs.

Zaire-Etain the company responsible of the city was trying his best to find a way to replace the broken machine. It has no resources but those employee were trying their best to take another where a machine to bring back the water.

It has to check in those old mine to find another replacement. It was taking long.

It was an Wednesday, we don't know what happen at the seminary. When we heard the ring to go to bed at around 10 in the evening we went to bed as usual to sleep.

When it was time to sleep, there was no excuse to keep up charting. All the lights were switched off and the priest director was walking all around the house to make sure that we were sleeping.

We could hear his feet steps at around 5 past ten. But I don't know who started Jolie's talk. We started talking about that mysterious girl. Then 30 minutes later the head students come to us shutting at us. He was sleeping in another room: "Gents we have to sleep it already half past ten. I always have a problem to wake up in the morning and ring the bell".

His name was Ramy, who was becoming a my personal best friend at this house. Very clever, philosopher by nature. He liked literature like me. He used to read a lot. A man of a good reputation not having enemies and not even talking to women.

A very committed man to become a priest.
Another man in our group just told him: "we are talking about Jolie."

The man who comes to shut at us immediately sat in the darkness in our room and started commenting too.

All we were talking were just all we were feeling when we used to see her. Where and when we saw here. Her looks. How all people liked her.
There were some girls no matter how cheap they wore but just capture the attention of people. We even surnamed her: �Jolie de beau voir�. Meaning: �Jolie beautiful to be seen�
People used to tell me that you will find beautiful women and good people no matter where you are. Even if I had a chance to grow up in a big town, I used to see attractive girl every where I go.
The heartbreaker made us talk about her for more than two hours. We haven't breaks the law like we did that Wednesday, before we decide to sleep, we wondered why we spend many hours talking about Jolie?

Then the next day a Thursday, Jolie went to see her teenager�s friends with whom she had problems and apologized.

At around 4 in the evening at the beginning of our training session at seminary.
I heard a woman screaming in the local dialect. I was already catching many words in the local dialect Kiluba and was speaking a little bit.
�Jolie since she went down in the water haven't come out yet."
We were slow to realize as many future priest decided to go to the lake.

Many future priest were from a big city called " Malemba Nkulu" some 100 kilometers away from Manono. It was big as Manono but was not privilege to have electricity like Manono.

The man activity there was fishing. Many people from that area were very good swimmers.

14 people went into the lake were Jolie was lost looking for her for about 45 minutes without finding her. Then Jolie's uncle was alerted. When he arrived he went into the water just after few seconds come out with Jolie.

They tried to resurrect cite her in massing her stomach but it was just too little and too late. She passed away. The name Jolie meant in French, beautiful.

What a drama? Accident weren't usual in Manono. Most of the people died from natural disease not accident.
It was a sad news heard in the city for many years.

Apparently, it was Jolie's big brother who was trying to teach her how to swim who pushed in the lake.
With all the unusual topic we charted last night and all the events happened. This death becomes a phenomenon that we didn't know to explain this coincidence.

Touched by the incident the priest allowed us to attend the funerals and the after funerals at Jolie's place.
Jolie's father was very thankful to the effort that the future priest tried to rescue her daughter.

I remember that thousand of people attended Jolie's funeral and attended the church funeral too.

In their customer there after all the funerals after one week. To end the tragedy lost of someone a small party was to be held.

At that party we were the premier the premier guests. We stayed at Jolie's house until midnight.

When we were about to leave our represent went to Jolie's father to present our deep regret.
Ramy our head student was the one who supposed to talk on our behalf but let another student who was in grand seminary.

I don't remember his name. He was in the second year at grand seminary in Lubumbashi. He returned before the end of the academic year to attend his father's funeral. And was caught shortly after his father funeral by this incident.

He started talking on behalf but with all the beer we drank. He went to far telling Jolie's father: "We are deep sorry for the loss of you beautiful daughter�She was very beautiful and every body loved her�"

With my photograph business, I met many challenges. They were plenty of customers but the inflation of money was making me loose money.
When I used to take the photograph for 500 Zaire for example and time to send to Lubumbashi for development. Zaire was name of the money we were using that time too.

The inflation kept increasing. When the negative reach Lubumbashi for development the value per picture was already the price I was charging.

My mother used to pay all the development of negatives. Then when I receive the photographs two month later they people who owed me money were not paying. Even when they were paying the price of things were already double or even triple.

I also didn't follow my mother word warning me of not taking picture on credit. Even if I followed strictly my mother's advise with inflation it was difficult to gain profit from this business.
It wasn't only difficult for me but to all the businessmen in the country.

Then two months before the holidays in April come a big change in the country historical moment.

Every time the dictator Mobutu has to talk to the nation. It was a public holiday.

We were waiting to hear the same kind of stories: "development" that we were not experiencing. The same song: "new nominations�" but it was another story this time.

Mobutu said that after consultation with all the people in all the provinces of the country. He had restored the multi parties.

Shock to everybody. Who didn't dance for Mobutu?
Everybody danced for this man. I grow up thinking that it was normal and everybody in all the country were praising this way Mobutu.
He was on the picture of all Zaire notes. His picture were in all the offices. All the cities had his statue. All the cities had all the big streets named after him. We were singing and dancing for him.

The one who talked against him was tortured. All the people were scared to talk against this man. His birthday was a national holiday. Only one political party existed: "MPR" the popular revolutionary movement.
How many clothes had his picture? The man who had the last decision.
I remember that at some stage he wept and said: "Ecoutez mon emotion" meaning "understand my emotion."
It was what people wanted but was not expecting as long that Mobutu was still alive.

I was amazed after this speech to walk on streets and see some people wearing ties. It was forbidden to wear tied. It was forbidden for women to wear trousers�
Where were those people hiding those ties. I never see a tie with my eye until that die.

Two week later after that meeting all the market were full of tie. Wearing suit also were forbidden except another kind of suit called I don't know Safari.

I think that he was forced to do so even though he claimed that it was on his own will.
Communism was falling and they were no need for to support a pro American dictator. The wall of Berlin was falling, Mandela was liberated�

Shock for every Congolese, the unexpected as happen.
In few months many parties politic emerged. Some parties that had 100 peoples to some who had millions of followers.

In a month the country had more than 400 political associations and parties. A national conference was set up to try and look the way forward for a new democracy.

We hoped that it was the beginning of a new and better life. But worst had to come. The nation was going through a new era.

The most popular party was UDPS: Democratic Union for the Social Progress. Run by Tshisekedi. The only real true opponent to Mobutu. The first Congolese lawyer. He was a member of MPR before writing a letters with some of his friends for Mobutu to change the regime in the early 80's. They were seven people and captured and tortured for many days.

Thisekedi was originated from the neighboring province Kasai.
MPR: the former only political parties. The Popular Revolutionary Movement.

UFERI: Union FEderal of Independent Republic. A coalition of two political parties: one run my Nguz and Kyungu former Tshisekedi mate.
All the two leaders were from the province Katanga.

This academic year ended on a high notes. My report allowed me to return for the next year at seminary.

I was now two years away of getting my passport to serious stuff to go to the big seminary the last stage to be a priest.
On top of that I got an early transport with an hospital vehicle to go to Lubumbashi for the big holiday in July.

I spend my first week with my grand parents. I remembered that when I was eating the last meal with Lusamba my grand mother who was known as my mother. She said I words that I did like: "Makenga"

It mean "Suffering". She gave me a food then realized that it wasn't enough and good meal at the same time. I was touched but I had nothing to do or say to comfort her.

I promised her that I was returning in few days to spend more
When I returned to my mother's place. I was sleeping when I heard my mother screaming and crying the next morning.

I immediately wake up and went to my mother's rescue. When she broke the said news. My grand mother has just passed away.

Unbelievable, I was with her last day. She wasn't sick. She collapse and died immediately.

It was in 1990 at the age of 57 years old. She was trying to go an solve the dispute of her neighbours. Two women fighting for one man.

My grand father Disashi warned her not to intervene in that matter. But my grand mother Lusamba knew all the two rival women who were friend to her fighting for they husband.

When she arrived on the scene. She collapsed. In a country were the emergency services were almost not existent. Time to call people to rescue her she died.
My grand father when he left Kasai and come to Katanga he was a driver of a truck and later a company�s ambulance. But since he retired and was no more part of the Company Gecamine and left the company�s camp. There was no access to the few privileged he had once a worker.
I remember even when the grand father after many years of working was very excited to retire and rest but when he got the retirement package he dried because the money was not good enough with the inflation of the Zaire money.

It was a big tragedy to me and the all family. It was the real and first family lost.
I only accepted that I won't see again my grand mother when we buried her.

All the uncles come for the funeral and it was a family reunion too.

This time when I was returning to petit seminary. I wasn't happy at all having lost prematurely the woman whom I viewed as my mother.

My mother when I was leaving gave some advises. Telling me to be careful with girls. She saw that may be I was growing and was tempted to enter the women's world.

She told me: �I am sending you alone and expect to you alone not tree peoples."
It is mean all. In this part of the world when you make pregnant a woman. Her parent will give you and you will be forced to marry her. A pregnant woman obviously will give birth to a child. It why my mother Mutoka was warning me not to return 3: me, woman and a child.

All the political parties started campaigning here and there to get many followers as possible.
Parties were supported by people from the same tribe to the leader. UFERI found himself popular in Katanga.
Katanga was known as a province wanting to split to the rest of Congo then Zaire.

In the sixties a war was in this province and a tribal fight against people from Kasai my parent province.

But it look like the tribal fight wasn't prominent as all the parties first were fighting the dictator.

I was wondering why Mobutu was not leaving the office? Why his picture was still on his money?
It was a Saturday afternoon that we were really charting and discussing about the political development on the country at the priest house.
Many priest told us that Mobutu wasn't willing to really leave the office.
One priest said that: �Mobutu has given a goat but still holding on the goat's rob"
Another priest told us that he saw many trouble coming he stated: " it look like it is the begin of peace but it is the beginning of a war"

I doubted the last statement wondering where the war will come from? They made us believe that Mobutu had the biggest and strongest army in Africa.

But I knew that if a war come it wipe off the Mobutu regime. In Manono we had only few soldiers like ten or so. They didn't have any war equipment. On top of that didn't have uniforms. Some were wearing ordinary T-shirt with military trouser mostly with ordinary shoes. With old guns I don't know which make? It was like world war two thrown guns.

Only their commandant who had a complete military uniform and ammunition. But in town soldier look at more equipped but I wondered with the low and irregular salary who will like to loose his life for a dictator?
The reign of Mobutu was based on fear. People used to live in fear instead of loving their leader. The press was preaching fear too in the population.
I think everyone would like him to go. And get a new political system.

Many figure were told "200 000 soldiers. 15 000 Mobutu personal body guards�" We view Mobutu invincible. Many soldier trained overseas. They fought and won the war in Chad when they were fighting Kadaffi.
The dictatorship regime was based in giving people's fear so they lives in fear. Despite the suffering, they had no alternative but keep they mouth shot and please the dictator instead.
Then I remembered when Mobutu had conflict with Kadaffi. He made people marching all over the country with machetes, knife�It was called: "marche de colere" meaning: "angry march" against Kadafi the Libyan president.

I started wondering what was the use of that march? What do people had to leave their daily preoccupation to do a march that may be Kadaffi wasn't even aware off?
What do people had to do with Mobutu personal problem.

Then come the strange story that the old priest told us. Father John, I don't remember is African name.
He told us that he was supervising the last election in 1984 in Kabongo just north of Manono. There was just one presidential candidate: Mobutu. They were two kind of electoral paper. The green one for Mobutu and the red one for the mystery candidate who was not existent.

Many people went to vote he didn't know why because only one candidate was competing against himself.

The campaign was long and a lot of money was wasted. The days of the election plenty people opted for the green paper. But many too especially the uneducated people opted for the red card.

He commented: �Some people took the red card just for a change. They saw many people putting in the ballot the green paper and decided for a change put red papers"

According to father Jean some ballots were full of red papers too. Then after the election they sealed all the voting ballot and he as a respected priest took them in at truck heading for Lubumbashi were the ballot had to be count.

He spent many sleepiness nights to do the job before and after the election. He wondered why he accepted to take charge of the election process.

Then while driving to Lubumbashi with his voting ballot. He had on radio that the counting of the voting ballot were finished and Mobutu had won the seven year term with 99,99%.

What a shock. What a waste of time and energy. What he had to do with plenty of voting ballot he had. Confused disappointed, he thought that the journalist had made a mistake may be.

He kept driving toward Lubumbashi. Now switching on the international radio stations. Now he heard more shock.

They were congratulating Mobutu for winning the election by the big nations: America, France, Belgium and almost 90 % of African presidents were sending the congratulation message.

He stopped for a while the truck with the truck driver they started wondering what to do with the vote ballots.

He had many idea running through his mind one of them to throw in the near by river the ballot.

But he was scared that they may find out and torture him. Finally he decided to not continue with the trip. He waited the car coming the opposite way to return.

Eventually, he got the transport after two hours. He let the truck driver continue with the trip. He didn't know what the driver did with all the voting ballot.

He was sure that they reached Lubumbashi because the driver had to get the rest of his salary money on arrival in Lubumbashi.

From that day he decided not to get involve in anyway in politic. For him vote in Africa is some kind of getting a legitimate respect from the biggest powerhouse. For him vote does not exist. It only the strong man in the African countries who take and consolidate power.
His worry was that the money spends for election could help and feed millions of hunger starving people. What was the use of making election when they are not free and fair.
The voting system was just a way to consolidate power and get the international recognition.

Then come at the end of the years 1990. All sort of political adventure were now taking place. Confused here and there people started hoping a better life in adhering in specific political parties. 1990 was a special year, the fall of the Berlin's wall, the end of communism and they realize of Mandela from South African's prison.

Then come in Manono the represent of the most popular party in Katanga UFERI. The national vice president and Katanga provincial president. His name was Kyungu was Kumwanza. It was big event in Manono. Kyungu was also originated from a village near Manono called Ankoro. He was even nicknamed Mandela.

Kyungu was even talking the local dialect. His ancestor village Ankoro was under Manono political administration. Less than 100 kilometers from where we were.

This kind of event weren't usual in Manono. It was Sunday afternoon that he was making the speech in the local soccer pitch.
It was good day for we future priest to see a political meeting and a way of spending our Sunday afternoon free time.

I gathered at the meeting place with my colleague�s future priests. We had people singing some revolutionary songs.
Then after 30 arrived the speaker of the day. People welcomed him with loud and warm applaud.

Then Kyungu started the meeting. He said that he met Mobutu in his palace in Gbado.
Home was Mobutu's village. He build it himself with his own money we don't know from where. He build and electrical central, two superb palaces, a catholic cathedral, an airport and many facilities. Manono was known as the 14th big city in Congo.

Mobutu gave him a drink he refused. He said that he was scared that the owl will poison him.
Owl was the name that Kyungu Wa Kumwanza gave Mobutu. Then Mobutu asked him why he hated him?

He responded that he didn't hate him but hated his administration.
I cannot confirm if what Kyungu was telling the big mass was exaggeration, truth or lies?

Everybody that time was still very scared of the chief of torture Mobutu the dictator�
Then he urged everybody to support is political party for a better future.

He said that Mobutu and his lieutenant had plenty of money. They don't count money anymore but they weight money. They drive different kind of cars according to the colour of they clothes.

That could be true because people ordinary were walking already with bag of money to buy a Trouser and a pack of money to buy bread.

He told the mass that they dictator with his servant were changing cars like clothes while people on street suffer.

Everybody wanted really a change and especially he was talking in Kiluba that was easy for everybody to understand.

After like two hours of the speech just before the end he told people originated from Kasai. The neighbouring province to support his party UFERI.

He quoted: "You people from Kasai, you have to support UFERI. You are living in our mansions and eat our delicious fish�"

Then I recalled that my parents are from Kasai. But it wasn't either a bad call. Everybody wanted to have many support as possible. I didn't even take it personal.

After the meeting happy to have heard a popular man in Katanga just before I return to the seminar. I decided in the few minutes left to greet my uncle.

At the end of the meeting when we were returning to our home. We saw a man cleaning up his hunting gun.

Here many people used to make themselves the hunting gun called: "Calibre 12". Powerful gun. Many people shot by this gun used to die on the scene with only one bullet at the time but ineffective for a war because it was not automatic.

Ineffective because you have to put one or two bullet and shoot. Then before shouting again put another one. Some hunters were even killed by lions while trying to load their gun for the next shot. It why when they had to kill dangerous animal they always made sure that they are in group of tree of four people with the calibre12. It was made by some villager guns' specialist using the wood, the water strong pipe. It was also very popular when it comes to the wedding dowry. The woman family used to ask for little money, some animals and the gun Calibre12.

We laughed with my seminary colleague that this man is just scared of nothing. They will be no war.

It wasn't far from the priest�s installation. I found my uncle Tshimpuki with the radiographer Kalambayi Kashama of the hospital in the said mood. I caught them commenting. It was Kalambayi telling my uncle who had no interest in the political affairs and didn't even bore to attend any political activity. His hobby, life and work was helping women to give birth, especially do the Caesarian operation.

"We are finished my friend we have to make a plan to leave this place. I am in contact with hospital in South Africa�"

When Kalambayi Kashama saw me. He told me immediately: "Dish we are living with lion�s wearing goat skin"
I immediately confronted him: �Why you are tribalist. Kyungu didn't say anything wrong. He was just campaigning to get more support like any other political party.

He then shut at me and said: �hears never grow older than the head". Meaning a child his not wise than his parent. Then continued: " the mouth of a old man stink but his words are wise than the dictionary."
Then concluded: "An old man in Africa is a dictionary" meaning that a old man his full of experience and have met many challenges in his life.

It was clear that the radiographer was warning me and wanted me to believe to what he was saying.

I then left my uncle's house. This man just touched my heart. I wasn't ready to accept to be viewed as foreigner in Katanga where I grew.

Then UFERI was establishing in the province. In Manono like 99,99% of the people supported UFERI. Priests were not involved much in politic but some were involve at the high level like national level. In fact even me I used to support UFERI as a young man who grow up in Katanga and wanted at least to see a change in the country. Dictatorship was not really a good system. Seeing the picture of one man in all the offices, seeing the picture of one man in all the note money. Singing and dancing for one man. Praising one man day and night. Listening to the praise of one man every time you open the radio. People�s force to do things they didn�t want to do. People living in fear and force to please one man. The dictator always right and other wrong.
Politician extremely rich while some people even struggle to eat meat. People stealing governmental and killing without being arrested.
Really, they supposed to be a kind of change. We were born and grew in that system and were just tired. As a future priests we wanted people to praise only God and Jesus Christ not a specific man like we used to do.

While the country was going to numerous political changes on the ground they were no change. Life was the same and the money inflation was rapidly growing. Before the inflation rate was noticeable after days now it was after hours.

I remember that I lost I don't know in the classroom or at seminar 5 000 Zaire not that my mother sent me. It was a lot of money. I even got in trouble with my seat neighbour Kazembe Kakuji at school for suspecting him to have stole money.

I really apologized later and still apologizing to Kazembe for that incident. But in few months we had a new note of 50 000 Zaire note. Even Kyungu Wa Kumwanza shown us in his meeting that note. It was so popular because of his design. The usual face of Mobutu the other side but the face of Gorilla from the province of Kivu the other side.

People surnamed that money note: Mukomboso. In less than a years the inflation was more than 1000%.
I couldn't continue with my photographic business and I started taking pictures here and there just for fun.

In 1990 we heard a sad story, the massacre at the University of Lubumbashi. The student caught some of their colleagues were undercover.

Each time they were planning a march before they even start the military personnel were coming to disperse them. Then they realize that some of their colleagues had a lot of money. They were having all the equipment and had cell phone.

Cellphone that time was really a fortune. They caught 4 of their colleagues hit them but one escaped and went to inform the authority. All the 4 undercover informer were originated of Mobutu's province.

Then one night at the Kasapa, university hostel. The electricity went off at around five hours in the afternoon. Then at night some people wearing mask invaded their hostel. Room by room their were entering and stubbing the students.

They had a code. They were asking before stubbing a question: �Lititi.� Once their say Lititi you don't respond Mboka, they stab you.

It was a code to distinguish student from Mobutu's province and other's province. Those students from Mobutu's province new to respond to that code.

Then at the same time those people in masks were taking away those killed and drawn away, put them in trucks and went to bury them in a secret location.

The university hostel had blood all over the floors and wall for many days. A commission of inquiry was set, the governor of the province that time was fired. The director of the electrical company and the chief army in the province were fired too.

But the mystery was covered and no one was arrested.

My main subject was Mathematics at school and I wasn't that good. I usually got 50% or 60% while I had to make sure that I make a distinction in that subject.

French was always my main subject. Even when I struggled in grade 7 at school. I passed because of French. My mother taught me in French and we used to talk in family in French not in the dialect. I had many award in that subjects. But I went on doing some thing very scientifically this time.

I was trying to find a way of improving my marks. There was a mad man in Manono called Kamakotshi and other people called him Kama Francais because he used to talk to himself in French.

Apparently 50% of the priest�s workers were mentally unstable to our realization.

Many people were blaming the priests for hiring those people saying that the priests take advantage of those people paying them just little money because the mentally disabled couldn't complain and could not ask for money increase.

They criticized the priests that those people do not know the value of money. But according to the priests version it was a way to help those people rejected by the society and needed assistance.

No one could hire them so they give them opportunities that the independent churches couldn't give them.

They were criticizing the priest of going to the cemetery at night but I was there already for 2 and half years but I didn't anything like that.

I was anxious to see how they go to the cemetery to talk to the dead. I was still very much ready any time to experience the cemetery story.

Those were just some of the criticism and I am not in a position to comment further.

Mr. Kamakotshi was working in the garden in the cathedral. He was visiting the petit seminar time to time. People said that he had about tree university degrees. Some said he become mad because of having study a lot. Some said he was witchcraft by jealous people and some said he touched some magic stuff and didn't respect the rules.

Then he found us studying on the black board outside the main house. He comes to us. We were busy solving some mathematical equations. Then he stopped talking to himself and come too and joined us.

All the future priests were just laughing at his arrival. He stood for a while then I heard me screaming: "It is 2 x square"

No one didn't know what the mad man was saying. We weren't even at the level of reaching the answer yet. We were still busy developing the formula.

Then the answer was exactly 2x square. First, I knew that he was well educated because he used to speak good French. French is a very difficult language with many rules and grammatical mistakes were not that tolerable like in English but I was not expecting this man to be able to know anything about Math.
I was impressed by the speed he finds the answer. While we were in the middle of the equation he knew already the answer.
I said to myself �I won�t let this man go.�
Everybody were amazed that the man knew some mathematics but at the time all the future priests were doing literature and I was the only one in seminar to have chose mathematics.

At school my mathematics teacher was called Camarade or Comrade in English. An old single man. He was teaching us mathematics without book. All the notes his words. And his words corresponded to our mathematics book.

He was very disciplined. Originated from Mobutu village Gbado. He claimed to have known Mobutu in their youth time. He was like 4 years younger than Mobutu. When in history we were learning that Mobutu was chased at school for having spent holiday in the capital Kinshasa.

The priests who ran Mobutu�s schools weren�t pleased because people Kinshasa and the children of Kinshasa had not good moral. Chased him from school for interacting with people of Kinshasa.

A story difficult to understand. Do those priest were mad at the point of thinking so? Really it look like that story was questionable.

Camarade meaning friend in French. kept telling us that he was chased from school for stealing the priest bicycle. He remembered a story because he was in grade two that time and Mobutu was in grade four.

Camarade wasn't married and everybody wondered if he had a wife in his life. It was unacceptable in this rural area at 60 not having a wife or even children. He used to say that "If there is no discipline human will live like animals."

All he was doing was teaching mathematics, attending the church service reading and organizing soccer matches. It is him who was in charge of the local soccer league.

It was also unusual to see someone from the province of Mobutu in rural area in Katanga. Gbado was at 2000 kilometers from Manono.
He once shocked the population when Mobutu come to visit Manono saw him and call him to the residence and they were talking Guandi, the native language of Mobutu. That was a proof that the dictators knew him personally and he may have been related to him too.
Camarade was not even interested in money or honour. He loved what he was doing. He was also known of having precipitated the departure of a colonist Mathematics teacher. The teacher once come with equation and said that "If someone resolves this equation so I don't have a reason of teaching anymore. And I will leave for Europe" But Camarade managed to come with the right answer and the teacher was serious. He realized that already Africans were clever and two days later he left the continent.
All those questions about Camarade were still unanswered.
It was the only teacher I saw before any lesson, he will test us. When you commit or write 5 mistakes you have already Zero even if the answer his correct. He was not asking as the mathematics question, he was asking too the literally definitions.
The only teacher I saw teaching us Mathematics and physics without any book.

They other future priest weren't that much interested in mathematics. Then I decided to stick to this man against the will of many people.
I started inviting Kamakotshi to come and do some mathematical exercise. Then the man started coming between 20 hours to 22 hours in the studying period.

I remembered one day sitting on my bed I heard a colleague calling me telling me and laughing at the same time: �Dish your friend is waiting outside"

I wondered to my self: �Who is this man coming to visit me this time. He will put me in trouble it is not visiting time"
When I got outside just before I see him. I heard a man talking to himself in French. And I knew and I was very thankful for his commitment.

Even though it was very challenging to work with him. The smell of that man was quiet not approachable and he was also talkative. I reached my target at school. He taught me a lot. No teacher made me understand well mathematics like him.

Then after two months of studying with Kamakotshi, he was called Kamakotshi meaning suit in the local language because he used to wear a lot unusual suits. My colleagues pressured me to try to tell him to have a bath.
I understood because I was his closest friend at the seminary and his presence wasn't received but everybody.

I told him in some kind of joke: "When did you last have a shower?"
He immediately responded me "last week."
I asked him where? He responded: "In the rain"
I asked him again: �How" He said that he was caught by the rain and was wet that was already a full body shower.
I told him that it wasn't enough.

He replied: "I am scared of getting diluted by the water in the bathroom because God has created human from the soil and soil get diluted in water. We human are soil�". I remember that as a young man, we used to make doll from the soil. And each time they were in water they used to diluted. By the understanding of the Bible, Kamakotshi was right, because at everybody understanding God created human with soil.

It was funny but I really fail to convince him to change his ideology. But I am still very thankful to this man.
I remember since he taught me I improved my marks not only at school even in my research.

At the last exams that academic year I got 98%. I got 196 out of 200 marks. Mr Kamakotshi or Kamafrancais as people called him, helped me to understand this subject and built a ground so I can understand this subject for the rest of my life. He made me this hated subject to be joyful.
He may have been made man by had scientific knowledge. I think may be he was just to clever that everything he does was strange to people. He had is own reason why he walked duty, wearing clothes differently, talking to himself and laughing to himself, not bathing.
I think even the priest knew is capacity it is why they kept him as a gardener while many people complain that the priest uses mental handicapped people because they don't complain off their meager (poor) salary. The church had never had plenty of money, they lived on donation. The meagre (poor) salary was part of the regime, where people could not get money for months. Sometime the money they get is not even enough to pay the transport because the inflation was high. Price was changing almost every hours and every day.
If you want to buy a cloth that cost 5 000 Zaire, you go home to fetch money return, the price is changed to 7 000 Zaire...

But Kamakotshi has helped me to understand Mathematics for the rest of my life not only for school but for researchers too. He has set a foundation in me. Many things he taught me weren�t taught me by no one else.

At the end of the academic year 1990-1991. The priest gave me their final report that I qualified to return for the final year before to join grand seminar.

My dream was still on track. I was dreaming already of being priest. Of blessing people marriage, reading the church service everyday, reading the funeral services and other occasion. My life for me was church.

This time too I didn't have difficulties to get the transport to Lubumbashi.
I went with the hospital car to Lubumbashi.
The blind archbishop, Ngoy retired from his function and we were waiting for the Pope Jean Paul to name the man who will be the bishop of Manono.

He retired and went to live in Lubumbashi with his secretary family Mbombo. At least it was good news for me. The married woman who wanted me to visit her was out of the town.

At the petit seminar, father Numbi was sent to Malemba Nkulu. The man who changed his mind to take me in the priest world was gone.

They named another priest to be in charge of the petit seminary Saint Jean (John in English) Baptist. His name was Nday. He wanted us to call him the rector.
And I will respect his will in calling him often rector of petit seminary.

All the others priests living with us were still with us except father Numbi.

The country was in fever one year after Mobutu authorized the multi parties. But the situation was not improving. He named his biggest rival Tshisekedi as the premier minister and the national conference was set.

It was the second time in less than two year that Mobutu named him as a premier minister. The first time he refused to be Congolese premier minister but this time he accepted the nomination.

All the provinces were represented in that conference in Kinshasa trying to find a way forward.
While I was in Lubumbashi I had a change to watch television.
The inflation of Zaire the money was not stopping. After few months we headed for million.

We had a money note of one million.

All the political change in Congo for me was just comedy to me.
There is nothing that was making me laugh more than politic.
In Lubumbashi I started not missing the news on television.

The news on Mobutu era was strange. Everyday they had to start with Mobutu's news. Then at the end of the news they were reaping his speeches. Those speeches lasted for hours sometime. And the same speech could be broadcast 3 times a day: morning at seven. Midday at 13 hours in the afternoon then in the afternoon at 20 hours. The same speeches were broadcast even for one week.

All the news was under the government supervision. My mother who was a journalist and producer before given permission to talk on radio or television her notes were undergoing a carefully check up by Mobutu secret agents.

It was challenging as she used time to time to rewrite her script to meet the governmental requirement. It why she was making sure that she starts writing them one week early before the broadcast.

In the small village in Shaba. UFERI was taking control of everything because of his popularity in Katanga. They UFERI follower and the governmental sponsored militia JUFERI were even judging all the criminal and sentencing them. Even give death penalty in the far rural area.

Manono was catching that wind too. The administration was still effective only in big cities like Lubumbashi, Likasi and Kolwezi. Many changes in Congo at the high speed we ever noticed.

In my first week, in Lubumbashi. I experienced the first trouble.
It was at around 13 hours when I saw one of my former trainer, Park Yalebe who was a student too at the university of Lubumbashi coming for a cover to our house.

He was sweating. The student had organized a march that turn in violence. The soldier attacked them and shot at some students. He was one of the lucky man who escaped and our house was near by and decided to refuge at our house.

He was confused scared, upset and desperate at the same time. I remembered that he was crying telling to my mother: �Big sister please allows me to hide in your house. I am not scared of dying but I am scared of the pain that I will go through before I die�"

People's hope was on the out come of the national conference called CNS.
First the new opposition leader Tshisekedi was fired after 5 days. Mobutu fired him for scratching his name as the founder in the inauguration process.
The other reason is that the newly appointed premier minister refused the introduction of the new 5 million money notes.

At the National Conference. The beginning was chaotic, the represents of the people fighting days to days on the national television.

The first chairman of that conference was experiment. He had a micro phone on his left hear. When presiding the conference the authority were dictating him what to say and what not to say.

Kalonji Mutambayi was in his early seventies. Sometime he could talk to his secret instructor live on the national television. We wearing hearing him saying sometime: "Hallo, speak loudly". Then immediately he was telling to the people representatives: �They have just told me to say no"

The representative quick realized that he was manipulated by the government. They started asking for his departure: breaking chairs, chanting, singing and dancing on the top of the tables.

Then they decided to name a respected man of God. A catholic bishop called bishop Mosengo as the leader.
After a week of trouble the bishop took the responsibility of the conference.

The conference was set for two months but went on for two years.

While I was still in Lubumbashi. We started hearing guns shot from 22 hours. We thought that he could end soon but those shouting kept continuing.

We locked the house and went straight in our room. We thought that it was war. But didn't know where the war was coming from. How does the war could suddenly start?

They were no sign of a coming war. Then the shouting kept increasing. Then at around one hour in the morning when we were just desperate wondering what to do.

We heard a knock at our door. I thought first that it was may be the wind. Then the knock continued.
I was the biggest man in my mother's house even though I was 15 years old at that time.

I told to my mother not to get near the door. My all 5 young brothers and sisters started crying. I look at them kept courage and told them to shut up.

I went near our entrance door and waited for the man who was knocking at the door to force the door and die with him.

Then after couple of knock. We heard now someone talking: �Mutoka, Mutoka"
This sent more panic. My mother didn't know what to do as she first kept her mouth shot. Then she followed me at the door.

Then they called her name again. To my surprise she answered now: "Oui." Meaning yes.
I was shocked to hear my mother responding. I told her to shut up.
Then she said that voice that called her was familiar.

I refused to let my mother to open the door.
Then they called her name gain. Then she told me to open. It was the voice of her cousin.

Then she opened the door. I though that I will hear gun shot in our house now.
Then when she opened I followed her when she went outside. I saw a man wearing civil clothes and four soldiers.
My mother's cousin charted to her while the soldiers were watching them talking.

Then brutally she went into her room to change clothes. I followed her asking her where she was going?

She said that she was going to work. The radio and television station was next to our house. In fact we were living in my mother's company house.

My worry was why out of hundred of journalist who were working at the national radio and television station only my mother was chose to work late that night?

Before she left the house she gave us a desperate kiss: "I am going to work. I love you"

Then she called me aside on her way out and told me: "Look the army has rebelled. They are shouting and looting all the shops in town. People are afraid. I have to go and alert the people that everything is alright"

When she left the house. I switch on immediately the radio. It was silence. Nothing was broadcasting. I tried to change the radio frequency nothing was happening. Then after some five minutes I heard my mother talking on radio telling people not to panic. It wasn't a war.
The radio station of Lubumbashi used to operate from 6 in the morning to 10 in the evening. And the television station from 6 in the evening to 11 in the night. But some time the time table used to change for the weekend or if there is a specific event.
People in Lubumbashi could capture the radio on FM and the AM was mostly used in the rural area in Katanga.
Few cities had access to television: Lubumbashi, Kolwezi and Likasi, Kamina, Kipushi.

She kept talking and playing the music and talking telling people to remain calm until 6 hours in the morning.
Then I went outside to see what was happening. This time the shouting was isolated now.
I saw people caring brand new televisions set, fridge, and equipment on their head.

It so other people rushing to the direction of the shop. It was really looting. The soldier went destroying the shop and took all the things they wanted and now the population followed them.

It wasn't only that after the unpaid soldiers looted the shops. They attacked even some foreigner�s houses. Especially those from Europe and America, taking their belonging and some civilians too followed the movement too.

It was free robbery, then this movement expanded to all the big town in Congo.

The unpaid army for many months revolted and decided to steal from the shops. It look like Mobutu started a war that he wasn't able to stop. What we thought was the beginning of peace was the beginning of the war as one of the priest predicated.

They were two kind of armies in Congo. Mobutu personal army who were mostly composed of people from his tribe who were well and regularly paid. They had the best ammunitions. It was called DSP: Presidential Security Division. But they were not that much compare to the other army that wasn't paid for many month

The rest were neglected and had no sophisticated equipment.

It took like one week for the looting to stop. Already some foreigners were leaving the country. Those who decided to help the population.
The looting affected all the big town in Congo. It started with the soldiers and policemen then people joined them. Many people directly or indirectly benefited from it. In looting directly or buying looted things. I remember that one of our neighbor who was European left without even saying good buy. Then people broke into his house taking things. Mom was so shocked as she told us to try to save some of Martin Gilbert stuff just in case if he return he may take them back. We tried but we were outnumbered by looters. We managed to take his lounges and one of his fridge. Mom who used to be friend to him regretted that the looting didn't end only in the shops but some foreigners and even rich people looted even in they houses were they supposed to be at least safe. The sad news is that Martin Gilbert Paul; never return, we don't know what happen to him and his family. I am sure he was too disappointed and never wanted to return to Congo.
We managed only to secure two chairs of the lounge and we had to buy from people who looted already the other two parts to give us the chairs and try to keep it. For the fridge it was quiet heavy but uncle Kaninda managed to almost self handed transport it fighting with many people who wanted it.
We couldn�t manage even if we had the opportunities to keep all the things for Martin. Our house too was already full with our own furniture. We watch as hundred of civilians and military, some with van transporting our neighbours belongings.
As a young boy, I regretted the departure of Martin, but I missed her daughter Angelina that we used to get along very well. Angelina, used to make me think twice to become a priests. We were crazy in love, we dreamed of getting married but at that time being priest was the most important thing in life. She time to time used to send me via mother some cosmetic products at petit seminary. She was one of my best friend. She was very concerned about the pimple that I was having in that teenage period. She knew very well that the red soap �Munganga� suited my skin and living at boarding school in a semi rural area, I could have struggle to get good soap. She used to send too other things like perfume, chocolates.

The soldiers and policemen were feared. People used to run away from the security personal instead of trusting them. They were more dangerous than the robbers and theft they supposed to catch. They wanted to be corrupt, they will even grab everything that you have. The unpaid security personnel joined the robbers, instead of catching them. While people in fear were forced to praise the dictators:
"Mobutu wa millele" Mobutu the eternal.
"Lokuta munene, oyo akanisaka Mobutu akokufa". It is a big lie if you think Mobutu will die one day.
"Nakoki komela poison po na bolingo ya Mobutu" I can even drink poison for my love for Mobutu

Even in the gospel, we never sang that Jesus Christ never died. We never said that we could even commit suicide for the love of Christ. Dictators always think that they are more important than other people.

It was the second major foreigner�s departure from Congo. The first one was in the late sixties. When Mobutu decided to chased foreigners especially those from Belgian. It is the prototype of what Mugabe of Zimbabwe is doing today.

Many inexperienced and non educated Congolese took advantage of that taking foreigners business. But few all those people who illegally benefited from those practices are successful now.

Most of them were bankrupt and closed the businesses. Instead of renewing stock of the shop and businesses. They went on marrying many wives and making many children. The only souvenir they have was the scrapped cars lying in their yards where chickens and wild birds are making eggs today.

Then after this political fever in Katanga. The leader of the popular political party UFERI, Mr. Kyungu Wa Kumwanza nicknamed Mandela urged the citizen to voluntary go and clean up the city.

This was a very good call from this man. Many people went in the city and tried to clean the cities in Katanga that had no shop anymore.

Slowly the businessmen after loosing their stock restarted their business. But many of them give up in making business. Some business closed forever and the population was the one who are noticing lack of those services even today.

In the few days that I spend in Lubumbashi a lot happened.
But the worse has to come.
I was scared and many people were scared to walk at night because of the phenomenon called: "Hibou" meaning Owl.

Some military commando were wearing women clothes and make up at night and kidnapping suspected opposition supporters. Many people went missing that time.

I wasn't done with my dream. One week before the restart of the academic year: 1991-1992. I took the priest car to Manono. It was the last years in petit seminar. And it was an important year for me to get the matric certificate too. Passport to university or grand seminary.

A very important year for me. I remember that I bough many books and documents for standard 12. I bought too many music cassettes and many clothes too.

I went to the city were people were so kind greeting you every time they see you even 5 times a day. Were they were no foreigners and everybody was part of one big family: Manono.

This time the biggest challenge I went through and many teenager goes through is that we think that we are old enough, responsible and always right. It at this age that many teenager hate their parents because they feel that they want to prevent them of freely expressing their feeling.

At this age I felt old than I even feel today. Today I accept that I have a lot to learn.

I arrived at the priest facility jut to hear that the initial opening date was postpone because the teachers were in strike and the opening date wasn't set yet.

The petit seminary school and accommodation of future priests calendar was going hand in hand with the normal academic year.
I had to go to my uncle house.

But I had a choice to stay for a while at the petit seminary but I chose to relax little bit. My uncle wanted me always to live with me and it was an opportunity to spend time in family.

4 future priests who arrived early like me chose to stay at the priest�s house. At my uncle place I could attend the chapel at my own will it wasn't a must to be in the chapel 3 times a day.

I decided to mobilize young people who were interested in dancing. I gave them cassettes tape. The latest popular Rumba songs. I used to borrow some of my clothes. Then they started the shows.
Using the Catholic Church hall to perform. This form of entertainment become very popular. Many people started attending to see people dancing.
At the other end we were making some conventional Karate fight then we were joining by a group of boxers and started a sport show.

The only problem is that we trained in the club and decided how the final result will be. Who will win and how he will win. Who will be the champion and who will be the looser. Then a group of tree weight lifter join us too.

It wasn't that popular like the music show. From there I started developing love for music. As a future priest, I wanted to be also one day a song writer.

Then I started spending more time in the township around Manono. I met my school colleagues and started sleeping around. I started tasting the traditional beer too.

My uncle who didn't want to get in conflict with me let me in this madness.

He was married to Mamy Betu and had two young children and her sister in law Meta was also living with him. He gave instruction to everybody in the house not to reproach me. He told them that I was just in a learning process where I will know the good and the bad.

In fact the name Mamy means Mother or Mom. It mostly given to a child who is named after the husband or the wife�s mother. And Papy meant father named after the parent�s father.
It was why in many families in Congo the name Mamy for girls and Papy for boy were very popular names. My big sister too was named as Mamy too.
It was party the opening date of school wasn't set yet and the teacher were still on strike.
Then I started walking in the township even at night. They were no crime in Manono and the only fear of the people were the witches that they believed working late at night.

I was so curious to see the witches they are talking about to help me in my research to. But I was not seeing the witchcraft. I was aware that my adventure could jeopardize my plans to be a priest if only I impregnating a lady or if they catch me walking often at night.

I use to make sure to see all the people riding bicycle at night. Likely most of the priests were not walking around in the night. The only priest who use sometime to used to walk at night was father Luhamba.

Likely each time he was riding the bicycle he was singing gospel song all the way and I could hear me and change directions.
I remember that I avoided him like four times.

My uncle who didn't have a time table caught me twice returning home after midnight. He only asked me if I was fine and took me at the back of his bicycle.

The hospital was like at 200 meters from his house.

Then a colleague from, Ngoy the popular name in this part of the world. Ngoy Kabwe Even went to far in introducing me to many people and I even get in relationship with one petty criminal. I don't remember is name.

I didn't know that he was criminal until one day we were drinking the traditional beer I heard a man looking strangely the passing goats.

People used to have domestic animals: goats and chickens. Those animals were running up and down the city.

Then he pointed at one big goat: "This goad gave me a problem last night". Even my friend Ngoy Kabwe didn't know that we were sharing beer with a criminal and asked him.

"Which goat are you talking about"
The man pointed that big goat: "this one I am telling you"
Then I asked him: �What wrong with this goat"

But the man quietly responded to us: "I tried to catch him last night I felt".

We all started laughing. Anyway it wasn't that alarming the city has no major crime. For me it was cool good to mix with everybody.
(Notes: change Tshimpuki to Kabasele's name to protect the identity of the person, he still lives in Katanga. Do not use his surname or family name Disashi)
I could return to my uncle's house Tshimpuki vomiting all the way to the house. Open my room then sleeps until the next day. Morning when I wake up could eat go back to the township. During day time I use to take one of my bicycle's. Then return home around midday, go to the Art martial club or watch dancers training. Then at around seven heading for the township again to meet Ngoy Kabwe, then go to drink around. Ironically Ngoy Kabwe was also a seminary chassed student.

At night I was avoiding to take my uncle bicycle. Scared that they will find out that I took one of the missing bicycle and ride to township.
In the rural area where women get often married at 12 years old, just when the breast start developing. At 12 years man were feeling already old. The life expectancy was very low. People in many countries in Africa had a life expectancy of about 45 years. Already teenager were acting like grow up people.
In the rural areas people had sense of responsibility from the early age. When in town other plays with dolls, in rural areas children learn how to farm, hunt...

I had a secret method to interact with lovers. And my technique was very effective. I used to send a young boy who was like to years younger than me: Baron Ilunga. The son of the only remaining doctor at Zaire Etain hospital. People who did know us taught that we were related. He was slightly light in complexion and we were very close. When I was not in seminary I was always with him except at night when I goes into the main city or township.
Makomeno, the luxury suburb of Manono had more or less about 1 000 peoples but the main township about 3 Kilometers away was home to almost the entire 60 000 people of Manono. It was quiet big and long. Many house built with modern material, some the wall were in modern material but the top were in Thatcher�s. I understand that the modern roof was not accessible to everybody.

I was not the only one to use this technique; many people in seminary used their friend as intermediate between the future priest and the girls who broke our heart.

It was also impossible sometime to control our feeling as there was no drug to kill our sex desire and to explore the curious of getting girl. It was a big task and a life time sacrifice to stay away from girl. It was really a test of character. But many future priests stayed away from girl.

The only good thing among us the future priests is that we were not accusing each other. We loved each other and we were really a big family.
Baron was and still a very good friend of mine. I used to take him as my own young brother. We were studying in the same school and he was living near the seminary too.

He used to call all the girl I wanted. Sometime I was giving letters to give to the girl I loved. It him who was playing the intermediary between me and my secret lover or admirer. But everybody knew that we were very close.

I had to be more than careful the passed year. I witness and saw 12 future priests being chased from the house because of impregnating and one of them Ngoy Kabwe who lived in the township.
There was always a sort of humiliation in the society once chased from the seminary. It meant that you were an immoral person who wanted to be a priest.
He had a big house where he lived alone because his parents were based in Lubumbashi. Sometime when I couldn�t return to my uncle�s house I could sleep in of the room there. I understood why they surnamed him �the governor�. He used to get money from his parents in Lubumbashi and spend the way he wanted. Life was very cheap in Manono and him was able as a students get more money than most of the ordinaries Citizen.

In the first two year at the priest facilities. I didn't have any lover but in grade 9 and grade 10. I was still having a strong commitment. I was new in the system and some how dreamed only of being priests. But we used to appreciate girls and comments among us and have even female friends too.
But in the passed year in grade 11, I had one lover who was like my really only secret lover, Bijou Nkulu. Somehow I managed to get away secretly from the seminary rules.
Nkulu was the name of the first twins born and Kabanga was the name given to twin second born. Dependent of tribes each tribe has specials names given to twins.

Then in grade 12 while waiting for the school opening I befriended already 2 lovers but didn't sleep with them and it looks like more where to come. What a party?

The problem with the new lovers is that I was not having a room in the township where to spend intimate time. I was relying on my school colleague Ngoy Kabwe the governor to arrange a room from me. Then when is room was available one of my lover wasn't. They were living in the big town ship while Nkulu lived just two streets away from the petit seminary. She was my uncle's neighbour. Every time especially Sunday afternoon I could easily see her.
The township was big and there was many way not to be seen by priests or many people who could report us to priests.
At school were the future priests were regarded as role model, I was ignoring her. Baron, Nkulu and I all attended the same school. She was in Grade 7 with Baron. At where Baron could secretly gave her my messages. We were almost the same age because I had a clear two year advance and she failed some of her classes. But Baron Ilunga was two years younger than me.
I realized that many of my friends or close one had by coincidence the name Ilunga as surname. A very popular name too from people originated from Kasai and Katanga too.

Her father was a catholic follower and all her family. Her father used to work for Zaire Etain. Her mother and her big sister were farmers. Her twin sister was impregnated a year ago by a man who claimed to be her math sister. The man who used to give her private lesson turned mathematic into a baby.

Sometime her parent sent her somewhere or is too late for the woman to come. When she is available I was busy with my sport and music preoccupation. Sometime my young friend messenger Baron Ilunga wasn't available to deliver the message. It went on like that for many days.

Until Bijou Nkulu sent Baron to announced to me that she suspecting that she was pregnant. Once she finished to tell me at my uncle's place the message. Already my mother advice run into my mind: �I am sending you alone in Manono, I don't want you to return tree"

Yes, I slept with her I think like four times by the bush next to the lake and once in the bush next to our school. May be it was a punishment, many people who were chassed for impregnated claimed that they slept only once with a woman but me it was more than once.
The priest warning of not get involve in sexual activities because soon or later the truth will always come out.

I saw now how my dream of becoming priest was shut down. All the sacrificed I did where vanishing. What a shame to the community and my family.

One solution comes into my mind to beg my uncle to perform abortion. My uncle wasn't performing abortion. And at the same time I was shy to approach him and tell him about the story.

An equation difficult to resolve. I went to my uncle sister in law Meta to ask for advises. Then she recommends me to another woman who had many abortions before but had two children.

Then I went to meet that woman that I don't recognize her name before. She told me that if the pregnancy his like two months it was possible to commit abortion but she won't risk to help if the pregnancy is at the advance stage.

I went personally to see Nkulu and beg her to commit an abortion. At the same time I was feeling guilty of killing the unborn baby.

When I met her she was laughing and shyly responded me that she want make an abortion. Then I proposed to give her money to accept my proposition. She told me that she didn't need money she was living with her parents.

I look at Bijou Nkulu in a different way. I look at her at that moment and imagined having been chased from the seminary. Then her parent gave her to me. And I am forced to marry her how she will look when she is old. I said to myself that "Not this way"

I failed to convince her to commit abortion. I had to face the consequence. Then I started realizing my doing. I restarted to return to the character that I had in my first two years in the seminary.

Then the date of the schools opening in Congo was set after two months. They were no time of playing any more. We had to capture the two months wasted.

It was a final year which we had to double our effort to pass matrix.
The future priest in the final years were given permission to attend extract classes any were at anytime but before 22 hours they have to be at the seminary.

I returned to seminary with a guilt conscience waiting for the pregnancy to grow wondering if the coming child is a boy or a female or may be twins. Bijou Nkulu herself was a twin. When it will be noticed by Nkulu�s parent. She will be beaten up then will tell the person who is responsible.
In the land where the family and girl, woman�s proud was the virginity of the girl once a girl is pregnant automatically she will be given to marriage to the man who impregnated her.

I started imaging when her parent will come to the seminary insulting priests of hypocrite because of me. I imagined how I take my bags back to my uncle's place. I imagined how my uncle and my mother will react when they will hear the news.

I imagined how I will be returning to Lubumbashi with a wife and a newly born baby who will be crying all night long. I imagined how I will walk in Manono after being chase.

How people who used to call me already father Dicho will reach. I imagined all the shame.

I recalled what one of the priests said: "sex pleasures it only five minutes pleasure but the consequences are endless." He added too: "It easy to make children but difficult to be a responsible parent"

The new director of seminar father Nday named the student to help him in the different activities. But him too I don't why, he gave the sport and manual work to me again.

I hoped not to have anymore that post. We didn't know him at the beginning but already two future priest knew him back in his church whispered at us his character.

He wasn't quiet like the previous rector but was very firm in his decision. I praised God and he wasn't there when I applied to be taken at the petit seminary. Father Numbi was disciplined but he compassionate with me when I begged him and changed his mind.

Then come another new comer from Malemba Nkulu: "Francois" a very quiet man and very committed to be a priest. A man really of good testimony. We later nicknamed him Saint Francois. In English Holly Francois. This man I am sure that he is a priest now.

From all the people I met he was just not having weaknesses. If he did because all the human have weaknesses his are just to minor to be called weakness.

I was doing grade 12 and on top of that was doing mathematics. I got a colleague with whom to study. On his arrival we become two people doing mathematics and science. The others were doing literature.

In grade 12 we were 3 people from the seminary that year: Ramy the head student, Francois the newcomer and me.

Our places to grand seminary were already guaranteed. Grand seminary of Kasongo, the city. There was many people called Kasongo and a city too called Kasongo in Katanga. They wanted 5 people from the seminary of Manono, the grand seminary of Lubumbashi wanted 5 and other grand seminary wanted some too.

But we were only 3 peoples in the grade 12 out of many demands. We had a several of option. But will I make to grand seminar the last stage with Bijou Nkulu treat?

On the political side. Nkyngu was Kumwanza was named the new governor of Katanga. He named new governors of all the province.

Some people didn't like this move. They said that Kyungu member of the opposition accepted to be appointed by a dictator rather than being voted.

Some people excepted him to reject that nomination but people quickly accepted. It was for other people a big treason for the opposition.

It was a good call because Mandela Kyungu was the most popular man in Katanga but it could have been better to wait for legal election to win that post.

It was already a chaos in the Kasai community. They started fearing that the 1960 tribal war will restart. Congo had 11 provinces. The Kasai people were scared that the new leader in Katanga and very popular in his home province will incite the Katangese to attack Kasaien.

Before all the province governors and top military commandants were from another province. Now thing changed each province was headed by people from that province.

I got a message by a priest that Kalambayi the radiographer has called me to a party at his house Saturday afternoon.
He even asked the authorization to the priest to join him to that party.

It was Friday afternoon that I got the message. Then I went the following afternoon to his house. I was expecting to hear from far music from his house but they were no music.

I arrived at his house, I saw like four women cooking outside his house. I was sure that there is a party but thought that I was early.
But was expecting music and many young boys and girls to join the party.

Then I started seeing big people coming with their bicycle. I was wondering why Kalambayi Kashama�s neighbour were not invited to the so called party?
Then I saw my school principal, Olengakoyi parking the bicycle outside the house. I was already inside the living room helping to set the tables.

I had a shock the man who used to be strict to me like my father arrived. I thought that it is Saturday, he will eventually punish me for being outside the seminary in the non visiting time. Even the priests allowed me to attend the party but I was scared to be punished at school.

I though that the principal will punish me for attending party while I supposed to be studying. I was in grade 12 and suppose to prepare the matric exams.

While I was trying to get my way out of the guests. I heard Olengakoyi greeting me: �How are you son?" He was not angry at all seeing me at party. The priests allowed me to attend the party under the demand of Kalambayi for two hours but the principal presence made me uncomfortable. He has punished me before and even humiliated me in shouting at me in public before and the same time he has praised too and acts like my father.

In fact sometime he used to consider me as his son because he had no boy. He had only girls with his wife.
This wasn't a guaranty that he won't punish me. For me it was a warning that he saw me and I don't have to run away.

Then I started telling to my self. How will I enjoy the party with the principal presence? How will I chart to the young coming boys and girl?

For me Olengakoyi has spoiled what supposed to be a good way to relax my mind. I kept wondering how will I drink a glass of beer that I didn't for a while when the school reopened?

At the same time. I had a strange feeling that this party could be a private party. The principal was not attending parties. He was not interested in drinking�

I was still waiting the music but house the owner of the house wasn't playing music. At the seminary we had very little chance to listen to music.

I went outside I asked Kalambayi Kashama's wife: �When are you playing music? I have some music tape on my pocket."
I was close to this woman because I often met her when visiting my uncle. She was a good friend to my uncle�s wife and originally from the town of Likasi. Kalambayi himself was in his early twenties and his wife was not even twenty. It was just a young couple and I often feels comfortable taking to them and even share jokes.

Kalambayi Kashama some time acted like my uncle�s young brother. Sometime when my uncle couldn�t shout at me, he will take that role of shouting at me. .

She told me: �They won't be any music today"
I wonder how a party can be without music and complained: �Which kind of party without music? It is not a funeral even at the funeral they play music and people sings"

She told me: "It is not really a party it is a familial gathering"
Then I felt like the world was falling down.
Then some of my questions were answered but I was wondering which kind of gathering? Kalambayi Kashama a Protestant church follower. Olengakoyi a Catholic Church follower and others people.

But I was amazed to see in the living room how all the big people were talking to other. It was just special, like members of one family who met after many years. Very friendly and caring.

They gave to everybody some beer not me. They only gave me cold drink.

I was in good term with Kalambayi's wife. I follow in kitchen begged her to secretly pour some beer in a glass so I drink in the kitchen.

She refused but promised to keep some beer and before my return to the seminary she will secretly give me a plastic with one or two bottles of beer.

I accepted, I knew how to smuggle beer in seminary and not being caught. Most the people in Manono were drinking cheap traditional beer but here we had the modern beer quiet costly.

They are imported from Lubumbashi and not everyone had the resources buy and to drink those beer. I think that Kalambayi Kashama spent a fortune to organize the gathering.

Then I heard Kalambayi speaking: "I thank you for coming in large number. Tshimpuki didn't have time to attend this meeting"

I wondered what my uncle Tshimpuki has to do with meetings because he doesn't attend any meeting or party organization. Simply because he has no time.

He was like a paramedic ready to rescue pregnant women at any given time.

Then I heard a lot: "we" in the talking: " we are in trouble, we have to be ready than ever."

Then I realize that it was a meeting of people from the same province. Kasai. I where I knew and understand that why Olengakoyi was strict to me. He was caring, he didn't hate me.

Then I realize that even Mbombo that married woman who wanted me to visit her and made me travel in the car of the blind archbishop was from Kasai too. I was wondered what a married woman has to talk with a 13 years boys?
She wasn't anymore in town she went with her family and his boss who retired to Lubumbashi.

Manono a city of more than 65 000 people had less than 20 families of people originated from Kasai. I saw in that meeting. Baron father Dr. Ilunga, the veterinarian of Manono, the chief of the non working post of Manono, the owner of the house, the vice mayor of the city and others.
It was some kind of a small community that cares about each other. Like a foreigner community in a foreigner land.
Without realizing that directly or indirectly there was a fear in that community.

It only my uncle Dr. Tshimpuki and another woman Samba.
They said that Samba wasn't a big issue because she was married to a local man and had four children with him.

The purpose of the meeting was to get ready to flee in time once the tribal fight starts. The destination has to be Lubumbashi. The big towns in Katanga: Lubumbashi, Likasi and Kolwezi, were mixed with the population of both provinces Katanga and Kasai almost 50/50.

Manono was at 400 kilometers from the province of Kasai but Lubumbashi was at more than 1000 kilometers from Kasai. The reason to go to Lubumbashi is that they were no practical road from Manono to Kasai.

Lubumbashi has a suitable transport to go to Kasai: "The train.� At the same time it was safer to be in Lubumbashi than Manono. It has many people originated from Kasai.

Most of the people from Kasai were slightly light in complexion, taller, big and the other way to recognize them were by their names. It was always very easy to recognize them.

It was possible because Kasai and Katanga were neighbouring provinces.
I didn't have nothing to say in that meeting, I was young and I was scared of my school principal.

I wasn't pleased with those arrangements calling them of tribalism. They were just scared of a war that will never happen. I was born in Katanga and Katanga was my only place and my love.

The way the political situation was developing in Congo. It looks like Mobutu didn't have anymore support in the country. Then started buying popular leaders to support him.

When Kyungu becomes the governor of Katanga after a political deal. Katanga was bought par Mobutu. For example when the premier minister of five days Tshisekedi apparently an original of the province Kasai and the first Congolese man who graduate lawyer was fired for scratching Mobutu name as a founder, the guarantor, the legal president of Congo.

And also fired for urging people not to accept the new money note of five millions Zaire, the name of money. All the 10 province rejected that note except in Katanga where the population accepted.

Tshisekedi talked only once and the population accepted the call. Even when he was fired the population refused that note. The soldier got paid with those notes and went on to force the population to take that money but they people refused that money.
Angry soldier even shot to some business men. Killing many people but they refused.

The provincials and the national radio and TV station tried to persuade people but people refused except in Katanga.
Katanga supported that note. Consequently, the county had two kind of money. The 5 millions notes in Katanga and the other notes in others provinces. 5 millions notes in other countries were just simple drawn and decorated paper.

The pope Jean Paul the second named the new archbishop of the Manono. Surprise, the rector of the grand seminary of Lubumbashi Katabwe was named as the archbishop of Manono.

Now it was the turn of the priests our mentors to panic. Most of them studied at the grand seminar of Lubumbashi and some had few differences with their new priests.

We heard some priests complaining that the man who was their fear will follow them after they have graduated. That mean they will still students for life.

Bijou Nkulu who had my key to be priest or not stopped harassing of the pregnancy. After two month she broke the news her stomach and her physiology were not changing. Was really pregnant? Was really fooling me? Or she committed an abortion? Or she was really still pregnant?

Our relationships were over, while I decided to be serious about my future stopped cheating. With all the advises we got from various priests especially the new rector of our seminary kept telling us: �We won't arrest you or tie you from cheating in sleeping with woman. The one who cheat will cheat against himself not against the rule of the Catholic Church. Even if the night is long the sun will come out. The truth will always come out"

Bijou Nkulu whatever still hold the key to of my dream. My fear was that if she sleeps around with other men after me. Once she is pregnant I will be on the list of the people who slept with her. And my name on that list was the end of my dream. Her mouth shout was my key.

I swore not to cheat. Some have cheated and end up becoming priest and some never cheat. But the simple answer was to not cheat.

That is mean even if we broke up; she was always a serious treat to my life.

After bishop Katabwe was named the archbishop of Manono we started the preparation of the big ordination that the city and the country haven't experience.

We always had few ordinations where like two or one new priest was blessed each year. This time it was a different story, it wasn't a priest but a archbishop the father to the priests.

Two week before the ordination different people started pouring in Manono: the students from grand seminary. The government authority, all the respected people.

We even had a small clash with the grand seminary students. We student from the petit seminary wanted to serve that ordination service but were scared that the big brothers from the big seminary will take our places.

Thank God the grand seminary took few roles in that ordination living all the role to us. Thousand of people poured in Manono. The day of the big ceremony. Thousands of visitors and local people gathered outside the cathedral.

The new premier minister that times and various minister arrived. The unpaved airport of Manono who didn't have any plane landing on it. Had more than 10 big planes that days.

I remember that even one plane was stuck in the mad for a week before it departure.

Hundred and hundred of priests and bishops arrived. The cardinal of the Catholic Church in Congo was there. 4 visiting cardinals were also there.

The city saw different priest in that town. I remember that I was holding the hat of the new archbishop in that ceremony. The press was also on that ceremony. Who wasn't there?

Everybody was represented. It is really the highlight of the 4 years I spend to the petit seminary. The Pope wasn't there but the cardinal blessed the new archbishop. Some represent of Vatican were there to represent the Pope.

That day I had really a taste of being a clergy. This ceremony will always remain in the head of many people for many years.

Just few days after the ordination of the new boss of diocese of Manono the new archbishop Katabwe.
We heard a meeting of the governor of the province of Manono, Mr. Kyungu was Kumwanza who was nicknamed Mandela on the provincial radio station:
"Let chase all the people of Kasai. Let give them ointment and push them on the railway�"

It was a shock to hear form the leader who supposed to protect people talking about inciting the population to violence.

I remember hearing on the priest radio while the priests and other people from seminary where hearing a new tune of speech.

He continued: "Those people are Bilulu and Bimkubala"
Meaning that people originated are insect and Bimkubala mean an ugly insect.
I don't know if they were called Bilulu and Bimkubala, insect may be because they were many and ugly?

"We have to chase them because they are taking our jobs and opportunity. Gecamines is full of Bilulu".

Gecamines then was the biggest company in Congo with 36 000 workers. It was exploiting copper.
Yes, that statement was true Gecamines workers were 80% composed of people originated from Kasai. Even my retired grand father was an ambulance driver of the Gecamines hospital.

�there are hiring only people who talks Kasai. If you go for the job interview they ask you to pronounce the name, 'Kiambukuta'. When you pronounce 'Tshiambukuta' you are hired on spot and when you pronounce �Kiambukuta� you are not hired"

Apparently the Kasai dialect is full of Tsh. Meaning that once you pronounce words with Kasai tune you are hired on spot and when you fail to pronounce words without Tsh you are hired.

Then he added: �those people from Kasai who want to leave let them take their houses and travel with it in their province".

A impossible task to take your house like a bag and travel with it to Kasai thousand kilometers away.

I don't know which strategy he was using? Few people before used to complain that people of Kasai were more successful. Now it wasn't people on street talking but a leader inciting violence.
And those words Kyungu was talking made him more popular he was talking what peoples from street wanted to hear.

Immediately he was nicknamed Mandela the liberator.

He urged ordinary people to chase people of Kasai and take up their belonging and job.
What many people predicated was about to come true. What my mother told me of the story repeating it self was about to come true.

The problem was how the man on street will react? Now they got an authorization to exercise what they wanted to do. Kyungu was representing the man on street.

All the priests and many people at seminary weren't please to hear those calls. Now I realized that I was the only man from Kasai in the petit seminary.

My love for Katanga was just too strong from me to accept those calls.
This time I don't know what was going behind in UFRERI Kyungu's party. Already in the rural area the government wasn't effective. UFERI took over and that party was responsible of the running of the rural area and the justice in those areas.
UFERI the party and the youth league of the party become a government sponsored militia called JUFERI, J means Jeune in French or youth in Emglish.

They could judge, sentence or even kill.
I was amazed how politic become so active in the life of people. Everybody dreamed of a better life and one of the solution to better life was to chase the Kasaien. Even the churches started preaching it. It become a new gospel.

I didn't hear that call at that time and I decided to continue with a normal life.
Then two weeks later I got a letter from my mother urging me and my uncle's family to return to Lubumbashi. We ignored that call.
While the call to chase the Kasai tribe was getting stronger in the province of 5 millions people but only about 1 millions people from Kasai who mainly lived in big cities: Likasi, Kolwezi and Lubumbashi.
The Kasaien living isolated in rural areas were often attacked and killed. Other people who followers politicians calls were churches. Many small churches preacher started encouraging people to chase people from Kasai while the churches like Catholic where not encouraging the Xenophobia.
Many Kasaien living in Katanga didn't know their ancestor's land. They parents and grand parents left that region long time to work in Katanga, some fled the witchcraft in Kasai...

I didn't want to return because I wanted to write matric and keep the record. I was one of the youngest people to write matrix that year.

Stick to sport records of winning affected even my life. Now I was stick to school records. I knew that once I write matrix I will pass. Once I return to Lubumbashi I will miss the years and my record could be jeopardized.

Dr. Tshimpuki, my uncle loved Manono. When he got the job to Manono shortly 3 different companies called him. He refused their offers decided to settle in Manono.

After 6 years of working in Manono her sister, my mother wanted him to leave the place he loved at least to go to town where there is high concentration of Kasaien and it was much safe than in the rural areas.

He loved Manono and his people. He was performing more than a thousand caesarians operation a year. Hundred of children in Manono and surrounding area where named after him.

He was not getting a lot of money but loved his job. He didn't have a personal car except many bicycles he owned like many villagers.

At the same time my family in Lubumbashi had a little hope that I was in a seminary with priests. Living with respected clergy, I was safe. At the same time that our situation was more dramatically than people of Kasai living in town.

We were in rural area where Kasai where less than 100 with about only twenty family out of 65 000 people not including those outside Manono. In town they were hundreds of thousands close to million Kasai living there.

We continued with my uncles the normal life. The other Kasai families continued to with their live but more alerted ready to pack their bag and leave at any given time.

Me, I wasn't ready to accept to leave especially without my matrix exam and set the record that I dreamed of �being the youngest ever to get a matrix certificate� There was a age where people were obsesses with record: �being the first one to��
It wasn't on my plan to leave the city and province that I loved. My uncle too wasn't thinking of any coming trouble.

I must be honest that not all the people of Katanga supported their leader call. Many sympathized with us, some where hypocrite double faces: pleasing us in acting like if they were not supporting Kyungu's call when they see us and then when we are not there they join Kyungu's call. But the majority wanted to get ride of people of Kasai.

Most of the priests stand by us.

As the days were passing, I started slowly forgetting Bijou Nkulu's treat. I started realizing that it was just a set up that she was pregnant. My dream was on the track nothing was stopping me of being a priest. This time I become more careful to stick to the church laws.

In my spare time, I kept writing shorts stories and plays. I just felt in love especially with writing. Another man in seminary who was interested in writing was Ramy. We kept exchanging ideas and plans.

Francois my new best friend and colleague at school and at seminary weren�t into literature. He was concentrating on school notes only.

Ramy, Francois and me where inseparable. We were the only one in grade 12 at seminary and hang up together. Baron was a part of me. Even though lately I stopped sending him to give message to the girl. He knew what I was doing and viewed me as his big brother.

Each time he was in trouble he always run to me for advises and support. When I was even worry angry for everybody I used to ask for advises too.
My mother keep begging us to return to the big city were they were many Kasaien. Katanga had about 5 millions people and the people originated from Kasai were about 1 millions but living only in the big town. She kept complaining how they were not allowing journalists originated from Kasai to talk on the mic and she was off the air and started working behind scene. She was never a political journalist but even her productions scripts were checked and re check by the intelligent service to make sure that it suited the government policies.
Then one day I don't remember which holiday. It was a one day holiday a certain Wednesday. Ramy and I decided to visit and write about the pygmies.

According to our historical notes. The pygmies lived in the forest Equator. But we used to see isolated few visiting pygmies in Manono far from the Equatorial forest. No one was interested in them. People used to laugh at them calling them: "Mbabote".

It was an opportunity for us to satisfy our curiosity to see them and talk to them. They were well know as good hunter. Some people where saying that they could run and catch some animal with their own hands.

They didn't have guns but easily where killing lions. People could laugh at them but respected them as good hunters. Some local traders were going in their village exchanging clothes to smoked meats and sell those meats in the cities.

Not all the short people were pygmies. They had their own physiology. They had big head, long arms and short legs. Mbabote, the name given to pygmies of those areas was like an insult.

We took bicycles from seminary and headed to the pygmy's village. Their village had no car's road. Only feet road. Only bicycles and motorbikes could go there. We wake up at around 4 hours in the morning.

It was good to start riding before the sun come out. When it cold it is easy to walk a long distance. I learned these techniques from many colleagues who used to walk long distances.

I was following Ramy with the bicycle in the deep bush. I wasn't even scared of dangerous animals. We didn't have any weapon to defend our self if we meet dangerous animals on our way there.

The only few things we got were some few clothes that we parked to exchange to few meat or give to the pygmies for free. We didn't even have some notes to write the story.

We wanted to write their story but forgot completely to bring not. We realized in the jungle that we should have brought a note book and pen to write names that we could easily forgot.

Then we decided to continue with our journey hoping to return again with all the necessity next time to write their story.

It was fun riding in that feet step, I realized that I was becoming too a very good rider. Having acquired a good balance. Control well the bicycle and riding at high speed. Knowing how to stop in descending�

Many of the bicycle in the city were not having break. So you should be able to stop at any given speed and time any where mostly with your right foot. I don't know why many bicycles didn't have break. May be the break were fragile and got damage early.

Priests and few people like doctors had the best bicycles. But in the township most of the bicycle were almost self made but collecting different parts of different old bicycle and make one bicycle.

There was no garage for bicycles but many people knew to fix bicycles.
The pygmies were not using money. Exchanging was the way to acquire things.

We rode (ride) like for 30 kilometers without meeting any village. It was a little bit strange. In an area that you meet village every 5 to 7 kilometers no village. Some time we had to walk pushing the bicycle when climbing mountain.

We heard nothing to guide us or any map except following the feet road. Then we saw a school and a church under construction. Then we knew we were getting closer to the village of the pygmies.

Another church, not Catholic Church was the one who was trying to build a school and a church hall in that area. We don't know which church because we didn't see anybody when we got there. We lately heard that it was a Lutheran church that was trying to develop that area.

We were surprise to see those constructions. We were not expecting to see something like that.

Shortly after date we saw a village. Short thatches houses but what was strange the village was encircled with some kind or traditional wall made of branch of tree and had a small entrance.

We stay in silenced. I look at Ramy and Ramy look at me. Wondering what to do next. We got off our bicycles push them toward the village entrance then stopped.

We were in another territory. We arrived at around nine hours in the morning. Why does the village has to be isolated and even protected in a premise?

I though may be they were scared of enemies. But which one? May be they were protecting themselves against dangerous animals? This phenomenon still unanswered.

Then we saw children playing around. Then suddenly we heard children sceaming all over: "Mbwelayi, Mbwelayi". Meaning get in.
It was very similar with the word in Manono dialect Kiluba: "Twelayi" meaning also get in.

We heard their call but we hesitated to enter wondering why the children are screaming from all the corner urging us to enter. It looks like it was a children call to inform their parents of the arrival of foreigner in the land.

We were expecting to see some of the pygmies were skins animal but everybody was wearing clothes. We refused to enter under the children's call.

Then we look far right side of the village a group of like 7 pygmies smoking what smelled like the local version of Marijuana. They saw us and we saw them but they didn't approach at us.

We were scared Ramy and me. Big people saw us but didn't even say nothing. What was wrong? We stayed for like 10 minutes not even talking to each other then we saw the group of those people who were smoking coming toward us.

We were shocked once again. We thought that all the pygmies were short but few of them were really taller.
When they arrived at 5 meters from us they greeted at us and told us to enter in their village.

We realize that they had to smoke and get high to get the courage to talk to us or confront us. They were not ignoring us.

We got a sense of relieve and entered. All the seven people were now talking to each other asking us were we from and what was the reason behind our visit?

We told them that we were from Manono and come to visit them and exchange clothes to meat.
Then they started talking in their dialects among themselves. We didn't even catch even one word.

We heard some clicks in their language. The only languages that I heard with clicks was their language and we were impress with their speed clicks.

Then another pygmy asks me if I was a son of a white man. I don't know if it was because I was light in skin or what.
Ramy answered that one of my parent was white and another black.

They said they some missionary white man who come to visit them gave them some gifts and took some pictures.

By the look of numbers of the Thatcher house, this community was very small may be not more than thousands peoples. We were not sure if they were others pygmies village around.

They could speak Kiluba the dialect of Manono plus their own dialect. Then we heard them talking: "we are the Mbabote" hitting their chest with fist.

The name that we thought was an insult but they were very proud of that name. Straight away I introduce: �I am Dicho and my friends name is Ramy.

They kept saying proudly: "We are Mbabote" we don't know if they were running short of word to continue the conversation or what.

Then Ramy said that we were happy to meet them and we wanted to know more about them. We were proud to hear that they were proud of whom they are.

Then another man in group said that most of the men are not with them they went to work: to hunt.
We asked them if we can talk to one of them who can tell us about their story.

They all laughed and said that they have more stories to tell us. It will take days to tell us their stories.

Ramy was very wise. He introduced the topic saying that black people: �Bantu" are originated from the north of the continent Sahara and come centuries ago to different part of the continent. And indirectly asked how come they live in a tropical zone while the story teach us that their live in equator.

The man who was like a leader started now telling us their story. That they left their ancestor land after their direct ancestor had some fight with his brothers. He was a polygamy and took is four wives follow the rivers under the guidance of his dead ancestors who were talking to them in dream.

He was telling us the names of many of ancestors. When he comes to date he didn't know. He was describing date with the historical phenomenon like when the first eclipse occurred. When the big rain drawn many peoples�

Immediately, I told Ramy that we have a big task. To try to look at the old men in Manono and historical book to try to find when the eclipse occurred�

But immediately we knew that they arrived in that land not more than 60 years ago. Because they mention of big war too. They didn't come straight from the forest and live in the jungle near Manono. They lived in four big stop and all those stop some of their ancestor left in those stops.

What we understood is that Mbambote was their clan. They were pygmies of the clan Mbambote. This words was similar to the words spoken at about 2000 kilometers of Manono and in the forest of Equator. Mbote mean hello in Lingala the language spoken in Kinshasa and in the forest.

They dialect had many similarities with the language of Equator and the central Africa. They big identity was their clicks in their language similar to those clicks spoken in the Southern languages.

At that time we managed to capture some of their names they gave us. We asked them if they could have a peace of pen or paper but they said no one had that kind of instrument.

The schools that the missionaries were building were not operating yet. But some of them were attending the church Sunday. The missionaries based in Manono were there each Sunday.

After like tree hours of talk at around half past twelve we decided to stop the conversation scared of loosing some of the name we captured to return in few week with pen and papers to write more.

It looks like they had an unfinished story to tell us. At the end we left them the clothes that we heard and left.

We returned quiet happily. When we arrived at the seminar. Ramy and me went straight in studying room and wrote some event and names we heard. Then the next day we started working on that story.

I am not a politician but it unfortunately that politic went hand in hand with our daily life. Politic affected all we were doing: school calendar, sport activity, our daily life�

In Kinshasa the capital city were the national conference was taking place they voted Tshisekedi as the premier minister. This was a blow to Mobutu regime. The man that he fired, his big political opponent was now elected as the new leader of the new government.

This lawyer who anytime could may be arrest me for the crime he did. The conference that was set for two months went on for two years under the leadership of the catholic bishop Mosengo.

The man he named first as premier minister refused to his call. Then named him for the second time and fire him after 5 days was legitimately elected.

We though that now a legitimate government will take place and a better future was coming. Then after like one weeks Mobutu refused to accept the conference vote. The national conference had some 2000 people representing all the Congolese.

He then went on to name the national president of UFREI, Kyungu's party as the premier minister and even stop the continuation of the national conference. The new premier minister was named Nguz Carl Bond. He was also originated of the province of Katanga.

It was a double blow of to the opposition. Nguz when he was still a true opposition member he even torn in one of the meeting Mobutu's money. Now the man becomes allied to the dictator.

He went in his home province first make his first meeting. It was a Saturday afternoon when we heard him taking. He greeted all the people who come to the meeting in various Congolese language but when he greet people in the dialect of Kasai people refused to answer then he even apologized.

Nguz a graduated of the university of Belgium was well know of speaking 24 languages and people said that he had plenty of diplomas.

It is there that I started feeling how people originated of Kasai where hated. I started giving my mother reason.
He continued with the meeting promising to people: �Please clean up your stomach. Food is coming. I will meet my paternally in Europe and America and I will bring more food: maize, fish, chickens, meat�"

We laughed with the priests who were listening to the meeting. Another priest graduated in USA said: "While developed country are focusing on creating jobs, cutting taxes�we still talking about getting food"

Everybody was amused. Another priest added: "I think those foods he promises will never arrive"

Another said: �If you want to win the election in Africa talk about food but if you want to win the election in Europe or America talk about creating more job"

When we though it was over then we heard him saying: " Minanguka Minalamuka" meaning: 'I fail I wake up"
Then blamed people from Kasai of witch crafting him when he was sick.

People of Kasai were also known of being witches. The capital city of the province of Kasai is known as the world capital of diamond and also of witchcraft.

Then supported the governor call to chase all the Kasai. He called this politic geo politic: balance of power. He said that in Katanga people of Kasai took all the high post and all the opportunities. They departure would be a blessing for all Katangese.

The petit seminary rector got angry as he was talking to all of us: "Do you think that if Tshisekedi (the man originated of Kasai) become premier or president of the republic all the Kasaien will be rich or be ministers? It only few people who may benefit"

The rector was now angry with the politician of inciting the political violence. Few days later. We heard now a big violence that took place in the second largest city of Katanga: Likasi.

Katangese were chasing people of Kasai and some resisted leading to clashes. Many people both side died: Katangese and mostly Kasaien. It was not easy to leave in one day all the investment you made and goes to the ancestor's land where you haven't been.
The few committed soldier who were trying to stop the violence were just overpowered by the militia who was sponsored by the government. Thousand and thousand of youth and some elders had infiltrated the militia. Armed with Pangas (traditional fighting stick), machetes, knife, guns...

Many people of Kasai hundreds of thousand took refuge to the train stations
In Manono the Kalambayi Kashama the radiographer and half of Kasaien living in Manono took their families left the city for Lubumbashi.

My school principal a graduate in chemistry and few people refused to move first. They have been in this city for more than 15 years. My uncle didn't even want to hear about leaving.

Then if I remember well it was in April 1992. The teacher of the political course I hated "civism" confronted me in the classroom saying: �You will pay for what your brothers are talking on the radio station of Kasai"

I don't even know what they were talking about. In Manono, they were capturing the radio station of Kasai and Lubumbashi. They were no private radio station.

I also responded to the civism teacher he name was Mundusa: "Mundusa I don't know what you are talking about. Even if those people talk nonsense we have nothing to do with".

Then the exchange of word started with that teacher. Other colleagues were just watching our discussion ready to turn into the fight.
The civism teacher added "You'll see the governor Kyungu is my cousins and he is originated of Ankoro a municipality under the leadership of Manono"

I refused to associate of pay the price of what other were doing. After 30 minutes of exchange of words, Mundusa parked his book and left our classroom"

No one commented on our dispute. The principal of the school Olengakoyi was no stricter as he used to be. It looks like he was feeling a coming of trouble. He becomes more and more sad.

My mother who was journalist in Lubumbashi was not suspended with all her colleagues originated from Kasai without any reason but was not allowed to talk on radio or television. She wasn't alone; it was all the journalists from Kasai were not allowed to touch anymore the microphone. She started only doing production and writing for others citizen journalist. I think she didn't like to stay away from the microphone. She loved the mic and all her life was microphone because she kept writing to me what happen to her. She has refused better offer just to remain a journalist and just to taken off the air punish because of the origin. I understood because the government uses the media to do spread hate and the journalist originated from Kasai could had contradicted the government new policies.

She started only writing programs of other journalists. Anyway all her programs were never political programs. She was writing female related programs and presented a talk show: "Forum."
But all the programs were always examined, checked by the intelligence service.

The Manono chief of the powerful political party in Katanga UFERI was Jolie's father. The late heartbreaker lady who died in the lake few years. He was a primary school principal who turns to politic.

He was in love with my uncle's wife Mamy Tshimpuki who was also a principal of the sewing school in Manono composed only of ladies. But my uncle's wife refused to his proposition to cheat with him.

As I was preparing the matrix. All the 3 students of seminary who were in grade 12 were allowed to attend extra lesson any time before 22 hours outside the seminary.

My seminary colleague and best friend Francois was with me and other school colleagues and mathematical teacher doing extra mathematics lesson to catch up with the 2 months delayed we heard on our academic program. It was around tree hours in the afternoon when we heard from our classroom a group of people singing warriors songs and whistling.

�The land have taken fire( Tanda ya pela Mudilo)�Let kill all the Kasai�" It was in the month of May just one month before the national matrix exams.
The teacher who was teaching us stop. We started hearing the warriors songs.

Few minutes, the teacher who was teaching us disappeared. I don't know how he left the place. Then few colleagues run away. I was like dreaming I wanted to go out. Francois told me to wait a little bit.

I look around me out of twenty students only four left in the classroom. Then all the others students too left. I reminded with Francois. I look at Francois and he saw tears on his eyes. We didn't talk for like five minutes hearing to those songs.

It was the youth militia of UFERI called JUFERI who went to a traditional doctor to get a magic to make bullet water once they shot at them. I don't know if that magic was working. I really doubt if something like that work.

They went in some kind of water, then pass through the legs of a old woman. They had one rule. Not to look back once they come out of the leg of the naked old woman. This kind of magic where called: "Bizaba" or �Mai Mai�

It was used by all the JUFERI in the province. Then they went to my uncle's house. I don't know my uncle supposed to be at hospital but decided to spend the afternoon time with his wife, two children and his sister in law.

Because of the political instability my uncle's wife decided to move all the school sewing machines to her house. About 50 school sewing were in her sitting room and 4 sewing machines belonged to her.

My uncle had a big house with 2 big living rooms and many rooms. They arrived at his house hundreds of UFERI follower with their youth leader. They showed him a letter.

Tshimpuki read the letter, it was their authorization to chase him or kill him and his family members. He read the letter without any hesitation asks them what they wanted.

While he was busy talking with UFERI youth leader his wife and sister in law were already taken to be raped. While many people entered his house and were taking all they wanted. My uncle's neighbour come and took my uncle's children and hide them into his house. He took the risk to clash with the angry uncontrollable party's followers.

They decided to kill him. They took him and where going with him to the nearest mountain to kill him. I still wonder why they didn't kill him on the scene?

While I was in the empty classroom with Francois. I immediately told him: "What about my uncle family?"
I then took my school book without any fear I started going to his house.

On my way to my uncle's house I could see people coming with sewing machines on their head. Uncle's clothes and furniture�I didn't care I kept going while Francois was following me.

The secret service was one of the most important weapons of Mobutu. Each city had the intelligence service. And the head of the intelligence service in all the cities were powerful people.

Like most of the Katangese supported their leaders call but also many were against.

The intelligence service who was in his house heard also the warrior singing and new that the youth of JUFERI were up to something bad.

He took his automatic gun and followed were the songs were coming from. My uncle kept his cool, I don't know what he was thinking at that time. In front followed by a group of JUFERI militia members.

They were armed with the self made gun: Calibre 12, knifes, machetes, and traditional warrior sticks called: Panga. The members were young and some were even older, some uneducated and some educated.

Then while I was walking at my uncle's house at about 500 meters I heard tree guns shot. Those gun shot didn't stop me of walking. Francois very concerned was following me.

Manono intelligence service Kabanga Ngoy followed the chanting people saw my uncle followed by UFERI members and fired some bullets and rescued him.

In that dictatorship regime the secret service was very important. It was the organ in charge of preventing the people rebellion. The secret service employees were very much respected.

The others group who wanted to rape my uncle's wife and her sister left them. All the things in the house were gone. I don't know how hundreds of men wanted to rape two women?

I forgot to explain early that my uncle's neighbour was Bijou's Nkulu family member. Nkulu even though my secret love relationship was finish she rushed with her sister and took and hide my two uncles' children aged 3 and 1 year old.

It amazing how friendship lives mark in life. My uncle Tshimpuki who I thought didn't know my secret adventure with Nkulu told her wife who one day he saw me with Nkulu in a suspicious position when I went to visit him Sunday.
He confirmed that there was something going on between us and was scared that I will impregnant her.

I think not only my relationship influenced the neighbour but beside that my uncle was in good term with many people. Tshimpuki avoided problems and even avoided to be in trouble with me too. It why he wasn't that rude to me and let me exploit my curiosity in freely walking even the late hours in the village.

They were no murder and he was sure that I will always return safe at home. He made sure that when I am in holiday with him they keep food in big quantity for me. He let me to go and visit and sleep in the rural area when I go to visit friends.

I wonder how hundred people caring guns and machetes wanted to kill one man?
Then I met my uncle's wife who was crying and complaining: "Dish, you must stop walking at night in the township�We were on our way to be rapped and my husband was gone�"

It wasn't anymore safe for them to sleep in an empty house. We don't know when they UFERI youth militia JUFERI coming back. Yes, they were coming back. They went to organized to return.

The intelligence chief in the city after arguing with those uncontrollable JUFERI militia wasn't able to take this unwanted family. He risks his life and could put his family in risk.

The government backed militia JUFERI who was supposed to be composed with youth according to the name but was mainly composed of big people. Then when I was about to enter my uncle's yard I heard the biggest shock of my life.

The president of UFERI was the father of that young girl we all wanted Jolie but the leader of the youth was my chemical teacher in standard 10. MR. Mbuyi.

After failing to his main mission and after arguing with the intelligence chief saw me. I knew him very well. He was a soccer player too and his was in his middle twenties. He didn't his eyes to meet mine.

He then said: "enfant de mille pere" the insult that touched me: "A child of thousand fathers"

I didn't even respond or get angry. Then left the area followed by few of his members.

Then arrived at my uncle's house the priests. They said they were ready to die before they kill us.
They took my uncle and went with him to seminary and gave him a room. My uncle never attended the Catholic Church.

All the few Kasaien in the city knew that there are next. The most loved man in the city: Dr. Tshimpuki was attacked and they were definitely sure that they won't escape death.

In the next two days they all vanished left with their family. I later heard that my school principal Olengakayi was forced to leave too. I never know if really they reached they destination. Many villages around the road were stopping cars and searching for unwanted people and they could have done watever they wanted to do. Eavn leaving a rural area become a danger, there was no guaranty of a safe journey. Sometime even living was more dangerous than staying.

Then I started feeling the fire. It was like we were in hell were you burn and don't die. I decided not to return to Lubumbashi without writing my matrix exams.

My uncle wasn't saved by priest because he was my uncle but it was because he was a human been. May be my presence in that house influenced them too.

The same afternoon when my uncle was attacked. Jolie's father hypocritically followed my uncle in the seminary went to comfort him.

When he heard that most of the machines were school machines he mobilized his people to bring back the machines. They dignitary of the popular party in the province and leaders of youth league went into the main township screaming: "the machines that you took do not belong to Tshimpuki, it belongs to the school, it belongs to the community". Miraculously all the sewing machines returned before nine hours in the afternoon. It showed how organized the party was. All the machines taken by different people in the big city returned undamaged. But beside the machine nothing returned back.

The biggest challenge now was who was the enemies and who wasn't because some where hypocrite, some loved people from Kasai and some didn't love them at all. When are they coming to attack us. We knew that the second round is coming.

The following day after my uncle's attack. We started talking; it was really the first we talked as friend. He was opened to me like a friend not as a small child.
He looks at me and said: "You children who grew up with their mother are the most successful people in life". I don't know if he heard the insult: a son of thousand fathers.�

Then he angrily added: "I don't know where your father is now that you are in fire and don't know what will happen tomorrow. It a shame that you have to carry his name while his not there for you"

I knew long time ago that he wasn't fan of my father and I tried to explain: "My father is a polygamous yes but do take care of fees. Every time I need some money I go to his pharmacy in Lubumbashi get money. All the school fees and others thing he is him who pay. He is a good man. He wanted to take me but my mother who is your sister refused to let me go. She lost already two children�"

I concluded that if I fail to reach my target to be a priest I may be a polygamous like Ilunga Kabuyi but I will take care of all my blood hood like him. I told him that he was my role model. He wanted all his children to live one place but my mother refused to let me go and live with him in Kinshasa.

My mother was a big celebrity in Katanga and the court that time wasn't judging and sentencing people for their doing but acquitted powerful people: celebrities and those who had money. Even thought Ilunga was richer that Mutoka but was unlucky to win any court battle with his former wife who was a celebrity.

At the same time, it was always important that a child grow with her biological mother. It was always important to grow in a house where there was no bred but have peace. I loved both my parents.

He didn't want to continue this subject and quick changed the subject. It looks like he wanted to avoid the sensible subject but decided to tell me his feelings.

"My nephew, I loved this place and it people. I don't think that I will ever buy a house in this province�" I saw my uncle eyes turning red while trying to keep the tears from falling and continued"

"I left Katanga twenty years ago with one decision. To return and work to this province. I went to Kinshasa to study medicine. I struggle in that town for many years. A woman with whom I was praying with took care of me she was called too Samba. It was I named my first child after her."

Samba immediately remained me of the samba we heard in the city and was married to the local man. I felt some sense of concern and wanted to know what happened to the few Kasai family in the Manono.

He continued: "Age was catching up and I was pressured to get married. I was already in my early 30's doing the last years of medicine. At the end of the years, I fail by two marks. The university professors refused to let me pass. May be because I didn't give corrupt them like other colleagues did."

It was my first time to hear this man that I feared telling me his life. I wasn't scared of my mother but I was scared of this man but he was talking to me like a friend.

Then added: "God still God. I went to visit a friend in one of the hospital in Kinshasa after my two months of my failure. I was walking by the maternity ward. I saw upset nurses looking for the doctor. A woman failed to give birth and the doctor who supposed to help her was busy drinking in the city."

An usual story. The secret of his life and I felt for the first time that I was also important in his life when he was talking to me:

�I said first that it is not my business. Then I stopped, I said that life is important. Cesarean is one of the easiest operations. I told to the desperate nurses that I can help. They argued among themselves then I convinced them that I know the job. Then one of the female nurses look at me and said: let go. She took me in the surgical room she gave me the medical clothes. The anesthetist injects already the woman the medicine and was waiting for the late doctor to arrive. I did the job. When I just finished, the doctor arrived smelling beer."

I thought for a while that my uncle is exaggerating but he was very serious while talking: "the doctor attacked me, who are you? Who gave you the permission to touch a patient. While the nurses were blaming the doctor. 'you are always late, we almost lost the woman, this man did a good job' the doctor look at the woman wound for a while and calmly congratulated me"

"When I introduced my self that I failed at university everybody couldn't believe. They all knew the system that some intelligent people were failing not because there weren't clever enough but because they didn't bribes some corrupt professors. It is why we wanted you to study in the priests schools were corruption is almost don't exist"

I was at list happy that he supports me in attending priest�s school. Then he continued: " They drunk doctor informed and mobilized all his colleagues to press the university to award me the medical degree. When I got the unexpected degree I returned to my beloved province to work and find myself here working for 6 years"

Many people were coming to comfort my uncle like if he has lost an important member of the family. We really felt that not everybody was supporting the political madness and mess.

Then I heard a group of about 15 men who come to seminary arguing with the priests about my uncle: "He must go. Our wife will give birth without him. Our ancestors gave birth to our parent without any doctors and medicine�"

Two days after the attack to my uncle all the Kasaien in Manono left include Baron Ilunga's family.
Baron was everything to me, a brother, a friend, someone who held many of my secret hearing even him leaving the city and schoool was not easy for me.
Apparently Tshimpuki was loved in the city. Many people named their child by his name too. That alone showed the serious of the militia and the determination of some Katangese citizen. Then after two weeks in a seminary were my uncle was refugee he left for Lubumbashi too.

Tree weeks left for me to break what I called records to be one of the youngest man to pass matrix not only pass Matric, I wanted a distinction. I started school early, the teachers made me jump one class. I was obsessed with records in everything. From sport to school. I knew that once I write those matrix exams I will pass. The matric exams were taking place in June for tree days. My mother and family members kept calling me to return to Lubumbashi but I was determine to write my matric exam and refused to leave without writing.

My dream to be a priest was on track. Nkulu the girl I cheated with. One year older than me was out of the picture. Her so call pregnancy wasn't showing off. Still I wonder if she committed abortion or was just fooling me? She gave me some panic for many months. But it was a awake up call for me to get back on track and stop loving woman and stick to the rules of the seminary.
But all the women colleagues and other women I used to meet once they see him they were just crying. I was no more scared of dying, I lived in fear from many days and it becomes a way of life. I didn't know when, how, where I may be slaughered.

I should always be thankful for all those people who took the risk to save some Kasaien isolated here and there and those living in big cities. They went against the most popular party, against the government, agains some of the family's member�s call, against the entire system.
One of them was the intelligent chief of Manono. I gave two soldiers to guard me to write the matrix exams.
We used to write the exams in tree days:
First day they write the main subject. For us it was math and physics.
The second day, we write language: English and French. Plus civism and moral.
third and last day we write: geography, history and philosophy.

In Likasi many Kasai men and women were forced to leave the city for Kasai and many divorced to their lovers if they were Katangese. In the other part of the province some where forced to return to Kasai. Still the other big town Lubumbashi and Kolwezi didn't have the tribal clashes first.

While waiting for the matrix exam. I heard the only normal seminary gardener chatting with the seminary rector: �they are group of Katangese who lived in Kasai. They cut they mouth and hear and hand. They cut their mouth and put locker and told them. 'go to your leader Kyungu he will open the locker"
In those days we were hearing of how people were slaughtered. It was the talking every where. Before killing used to be an heavy things but lately it become an easy thing.

I heard the seminary rector dismissing the claim: "that is not true. Where are those people"

The gardener tried to give the location but the priest refused to accept.
I must be clear that Kamakoshi was a gardener to the Cathedral. The one who was telling the stories of people being cut of their parts was the gardener at seminary.
Kamakotshi was very difficult to see. The only time he was available was on appointment. He used to walk a lot too after work. With all the troubles going in the land, I couldn�t even localize him lately.
The land was no more safe for me to hang around the way I used too.
In Kasai, people didn't retaliate. May be they may be some isolated incident but we didn't hear about retaliation. May be because they were few Katangese in Kasai. I think mostly it because the leaders in Kasai didn't incite their follower there to revenge.

Now, when I think about the seminary gardener story. I join the priest dismissal of that report. It looks like he was lying, exaggerating or wanted the priests to let JUFERI militia to attack me.

One week, before the exams. While I was relaxing outside the seminary with Francois. I heard the warriors songs again: "The land have caught fire"

I knew that I was the only Kasai man in the city left. I look at the big mountain in the city. I decided to go and hide in those mountains. I took whet was important to me leaving all behind. The short stories and plays that I wrote plus few school notes. I left all the clothes and many notes books.

It looks like Francois was following all the movement I was doing. It was like him also was attacked following me whenever I go. Then I heard him telling me: "Where are you going?"
I told him: "to hide" then he told me: "If you try to get out of the seminary premises they will catch you easily"

Then I accepted his advice to stay in the premises. I look at the bed trying to hide under the bed. Then I realized that it was a stupid idea.
It is like I lost little bit conscience by the trauma of fear. Waiting and imaging how they may be will cut me the throat, shoot me or cut off my head.

Then father Luhamba wore the priests clothes took the chaplet and went straight to meet them by the seminary's entrance gate he confronted douzaine of the JUFERI militia leader while hundreds of men carrying Calibre 12 guns, Panga traditional weapons, knife, machettes...The men were waiting for their leader command to enter the holy yard. Many of them were catholic followers. Catholic Church was very big in this area. Some had had some clothes on top of their heard with blood. I think it was part of their fetishes superstition to may be prevented my ancestors spirit of revenging in sending bad luck.
Many were between 12 and 20 years old. There were thought the only way to save themselves from poverty was to get ride of people from Kasai.

They were using the Mai Mai and the Bizaba fetiche, before the attack their used to enter in a river and after that pass under a naked old women leg. There were forbidden to look behind. It was a ceremony that will make the bullet in water when shot at them.

After that they smoke a strong Mariguana version and were going to attack. In big town, the trains were going to fetch the people from villagers to attack the Kasai living in town. They had to chasse the Kasaien and take all their belonging and their job too. All doing the same ceremony called Bizama or Mai Mai.

They will come in group following their leaders in chanting warriors songs. It sad that many of those youth never killed before, there were told to fight for their land in killing and get ride of Kasaien.
He swore that before they kill me, they have to kill him first.

All the others priests and future priest stood by me. When they arrived at the gate they met the decisive priest Luhamba and other inside the yard. They fiercely argued with the priests then after like thirty minutes they left.

Still they were returning I don't know when?

My biggest day arrived, Kabanga the intelligence chief in Manono gave me two soldiers to look after me in the examination center. We all used one big center hall in the city to write the exams.

Kabanga himself was there watching us writing the exams. All the tree days went well.

I remember that the last day of the examination because I was very determined to write those exams. I finished writing the last exam in less than an hour the paper that supposed to be wrote in two hour.

I was the first to leave the center. I praised God that I finally write the examination after the tribulation. My record was on track again.
I was so determined to write the final exams, I remember that the last day of the exam in a huge hall of about thousand of people writing. I finished writing few minutes after I got hold of the exams papers. I don't think that I focused of making a record to finish first but I was so prepared and I waited for this day for the all years especially in tribulation's period.

Now, I had one think on my mind. Leaving the city and go to Lubumbashi. Still in the same province, it was like moving from a war zone to another war zone. Apparently I was the only unwanted human's left in the city.

It coincided with the biggest holiday in the school calendar. It was now difficult to get transport. Many people were traveling to the big metropolitan at this time of the year. With my life in danger, I couldn't walk around a lot. I was walking with my seminary friend Ramy and Francois.

I said to my self that I won't survive anymore once the JUFERI militia comes Back. UFERI meant Union Federal and Republican Independent. It was important to leave the city before they come again. The same day I wrote the last matrix paper. I went in Manono town ship at night looking for the truck or transport to Lubumbashi.
They were taught that get ride of Kasaien will end the misery in that region. All the people from originated from other provinces were not attacked only Kasaien. May be because Kasaien were the majority of the Diaspora in Katanga.
The catholic diocese didn't have a car available leaving for Lubumbashi that time. They had their own time table. The hospital didn't have a available car to fetch me.

For the first time, I decided to take the businessmen car. We went in the city carefully asking for people here and there where can we get a transport. It was me accompanied my seminary best friend Ramy and Francois. Secretly in the dark we walk in the town ship. Francois and Ramy were not enemies as they were originated from Katanga.
It wasn't easy walking like a cat in the city you loved. You fear everybody and you don't know who the enemy is now.

We met another man who told us that there is a truck that arrived in Manono and it was on his way in Lubumbashi and gave us the address.

The owner of that truck was not living in Manono. The truck come from Kabongo and was just passing to Manono and they decided to get a break in the city of few days. I wonder really now if it was a break or a mechanical forced break?

When we were about to enter the yard were the track was parked. We saw two women leaving and told us there where no place in that truck available.
The road was so unpractical that no busses could reach that area except powerful trucks and four by four cars.
Disappointed, I told my friends to try to ask the owner himself if he can change is mind and just fetch me.
When we entered, I saw the truck that they were talking about. An old small Mercedes truck. I first wondered how that truck reached Manono?

It was road unworthy. My friend told me to patient for a while this wasn't a suitable vehicle. Because I wanted to leave, I trusted that truck. I refused to accept my friend advises. It wasn't safe for me to stay. I was the only unwanted man in the city. I didn't know when the JUFERI will come again.

I went straight to the owner of the truck and immediately after I greeted him, I told him: "Look I am a snake, I am an enemy, I am unwanted please take me to Lubumbashi and my family will pay the fare there"

Then man look at me for like two minutes. Touched he told me to come 4 o'clock in the morning in two days.

We returned to seminary and the next days while I was reading a book in the balcony. I heard I priest calling me in the rector room.

When I entered the rector room. I found seven priests wanting to talk to me. I knew that they wanted to give me the seminary report and wanted to advise me.

The priest rector started: "You had a very bad reputation. You were living in seminary like if you were in a boarding school"
I said to myself this is not good. Where does that bad reputation come from?

He continued: "You were involved with many girls even thought we didn't catch you. You were not committed in the chapel activities. You drank and hang around with bad and good people. You were befriended with dancers�"

I said to myself that it is finish. My dream has been shot down. I won't go to be a priest but at least I will get my matrix certificate.
But my question was yes, I did all the rector said but how he got those reports.

I said to myself that I did all those thing before they open the school and the seminary. How the off season reports has to do with the school report. I remember that in that school delay, I didn't attend many chapel activities. May be it was my biggest mistake.

But I was sure that some people were reporting to the priest all I was doing.
Then I heard him saying: " but but"

I wondered what it means: but. The rector took a breath then added:
"We had tree reasons to keep you"
I felt some kind of hope in me.
"First you are very clever. The youngest man I saw writing matrix. The young man I saw writing. Who knows you may be the future Leopold Cedar Senghor"

Leopold was known as one of the biggest author. He was even president in Senegal and was the first African president to voluntary resign.

Then said: "the second reason not to loose you. You are a sport man. You tried to direct your youth energy in sport and that is really a blessing for the clergy"

I was wondering what the last reason was. Then I heard him said: "the last reason and the very important reason we don't want to loose you. You are very honest. I must confess I haven't seen an honest man like you. You always tell us the truth whether it good or bad"

I recalled that many time I was punished. In the judgments I always tell them how the incident happens but I didn't had an idea that it will affect of was affecting my report.
There are two cases were I was closed to be fired. They never caught me with a woman and I never impragnant a woman. But there was day when we ran away from the seminary in a group of six. It was a Saturday, we went to watch a movie. There was no movie theatre in the city but only independent people who used to make business with they TV scream and ordinary movie cassette video. The rooms were always packed, from 30 people to may be hundred in a small room. It was always hot in that room.
They had a black board where they right the name of movies and time to be screen in advance.
They will use any room and make people pays before they enter the room and watch the movies. The most popular movies were fighting movies, Rambo, Stalone's movies were popular, and Even Arnold the governor of California's movies was popular. They used to call him Commando. Jean Claude Van Damme movies were loved many people were taught that the Belgian actor was born in Congo Lubumbashi. Bruce Lee movies and Jackie Chan movies were popular too and other action and Karate movies were loved.
But that day, we were watching another kind of movie we got by surprise. It was a porno movie. We were expecting to see a karate movie because there was a rain that evening and the writing on the black board were wiped by the rain. In the room it was always dark as they used to switch off the light in the room. Just in the beginning of the movie they switch on the light in the room and I heard father Luhamba looking for seminarist. Still a mystery to us to how he knew that we were about to watch a bad movie and on top of that we fled how seminary room while we supposed to be sleeping that time. It was eleven in the night.

May be the priest checked us in our room didn't find us and immediately took his bicycle and follow us looking for us in the city and just guess right to find us in the city.
Do any one saw us walking to the movie's room? Or does the priest got us by accidents. I am sure someone could have had told him or may be him too was on his way to watch a movie too. The priests had less restriction compare to us but they do not watch this kind of movies. Even if they had to satisfy their curiosity it must be in secret. They had they own television's set and video cassette and there was no need for them to watch any movie in public.
At seminary they used to tell us not to even eat in public or in a street. We had very strict rules. It was not the first time we break the law running in the middle of the night
Then we saw at the door, the man who was selling the ticket and the man who insert the movie in the television set frustrated. The priest got in the room standing and catching us. We felt very humiliated; we were even shy with many ordinaries people who didn't know that future priests were among them watching that movie too.

Luhamba could not hide his emotion and disappointment shouting our names and swearing that we will be fired from the holly house. We went to sleep expecting to be fired the following days. In the evening the following day we were called by the priests and we went into a meeting were we were forgiven but punished for too weeks. The punishment was to work in the seminary's vegetable's farm for two weeks every afternoon after school.

The other time I was closed to be fired was an isolated incident were I run from the seminary just before nine to respond to a friend's birthday party in the main township. Just few minutes of my arrival at the party. Manda a young man who used to walk a lot with the rector of seminary out of no where called me and told me: "Dicho go back to seminary quick as possible and change clothes. The seminary rector saw you, he is next door"
I knew this young man; he was one of the candidate to enter the seminary in the coming years. Already he was a dedicated Christian and was a good friend to the priest rector.
I rushed to the seminary taking all the short cut. The rector saw me very well. The young man Manda went to tell him: "it is not Dicho the man who was at the party." the priest disagreed with him he took his bicycle and rushed to seminary. Because I took the short cut road, I arrived before him despite the fact he had a bicycle.
I changed the clothes. When I just finished changing clothes, I heard the rector calling me. Then he saw me but by the fact I changed the clothes he realized that it may not have been me who was at the party. When I responded to his call he look at me for a while without saying nothing, then he said: "never mind".
This were the two most major incidents were I could have been chased easily from the petit seminary.

Then the rector said: "We are waiting for the matrix report. But we are certain that you have the matrix certificate. You are part of our family and we already book a place for you at the grand seminary of Lubumbashi. Next to you family and your mother. It is important to study next to your loved one."

Then a silence. I was wondering what he wanted to say because the other priests were still quiet. Then he told me: "we are very sorry about what our tribal brother are doing to you. Even if Tshisekedi becomes the premier minister of a king. Only few will benefit not you, not your poor uncle who loved us, not many more. Even if all the Kasai people leave this province. Only thousands will benefit not millions of Katangese. It non sense"

Then he stopped father Paul continued: "What the UFERI are doing will have repartition to the coming generation. Gecamine the biggest enterprise in Congo and the province will fall like Zaire Etain. Then the biggest enterprise will be the Kasai mining company. When will call for nationalism, the Kasaien will call for federalism and we will regret and it will be too late"

Then the rector continued: "as our young brother. We heard that you got the transport for Lubumbashi"
I answered: "Yes, I am leaving early tomorrow"

He said: �good news for me". We want you but our hand are tied we have only words to protect you not ammunition. If you live in this city that you love for few more days we will all loose you. I have one advice to give you if you want to be priest for us. Please avoid women. You don't know what you have young brother"

I kept guessing what he wanted to say. But had no idea. Then father Luhamba took over: "You don't know what you have. Your skin only is the key of thousands women. You don't have to wear expensive label to be loved. Please look first the kingdom of God and the rest will come after. Once your priest no one will take away that title in your life. Your lips"

I heard another man in the group supporting the father Luhamba: "Yes, your big red lips"
While I was trying to see the man who commented. Father Luhamba continued: "many girls want to kiss them. And I have one worry, that you may not control your self and fell in the women traps"

After the long talk with the big brother priests. I went to sleep ready to wake up at around two in the morning. Then get a blessing service and say good buy pack my bags and leave the seminary premises at around tree in the morning.

Before I catch the sleep at around nine in the evening. Many ideas come through my mind. The battle wasn't over. I have to pass to hundred of village where we may stopped. I wasn't that tall or big to be known as a Kasaien.

But my skin was a Kasai identity. If only I could paint my face with black mixture I could easily be identified as a Katangese. After many analyses I rejected that idea. It wasn't a solution.

I wake up at two in the morning. All my colleagues and priests attended the blessing service. Took my bags, accompanied by Ramy, Francois and father Luhamba we went in the township.

When we arrived. Father Luhamba saw the truck screaming: "it is the truck you were talking about?"
I answered: "yes"
He angrily told me: "No, this truck won't reach Lubumbashi. You must be aware that you have to pass to hundred of village where they want to kill Kasaien"

I argued with father Luhamba that I want to leave the city. I don't care which truck will take me to Lubumbashi. Father Luhamba understood my worry and let me to do what my heart desired.

I said good by to Ramy. Then Francois. He wept and said: "My friend I don't know if really I will ever see you again."

I was touched but inside of my heart I said: "I will beat that sentence. I will see you soon or later."

I took the truck. Full of good and we were seating on top of those good. The truck slowly was leaving Manono. It was my first time to travel at the back of the track. I met the first challenge to avoid some tree branches hitting us.

We couldn�t avoid all of them. Some where hitting us and it was really hurting us. I didn't know what was waiting for us in our journey.

Then, I noticed that the truck was driving at slow speed. I thought that the driver will increase the speed. Then the truck keep going very slow I can estimate at 10 to 20 kilometers an hour. At this speed it looks like we could never travel the 800 kilometers to Lubumbashi. It was too slow full of many bags of agricuture products and with many people aboard.

Then we reached another small ascend in the mountain. The truck stopped. I heard the driver telling us to get off the vehicle and push the truck.

Now, I heard the impression that we were taking the truck to Lubumbashi instead of the truck to take us to Lubumbashi. All the father Luhamba's words started coming back to my mind. But I did a good decision. I didn't know when the killer will come back.

We did the first 100 kilometers in two days. We had already four breaks down. We heard big mountain to climb ahead of us and I realized that we won't reach Lubumbashi. It was clear that the owner of the car was bringing the truck to Lubumbashi. The truck wasn't road wealthy at all.

Now, who will rescue me? We heard to meet dangerous people too in the journey. I slowly realized that it was jus the beginning of troubles.

The driver owner of the truck started to fight each time we stopped the truck with his wife. Two mechanics of that truck friend to the owner were drinking beer all the way. I realized that I was in a company of people who were not serious.

The thirty passengers in the track were now worried. Trying to find a new transport. At about one fifty kilometers the track was stuck in the mad and one of transmitter was broken.

The driver said he has to wait for another transport to take the broken piece to Likasi at 600 kilometers fix it and return with the spare.

I was caught in a big equation. We stayed there for one week in the middle of the bush like people who come to camp. We heard the biggest mountain full of lions called Mulumbi at about 200 kilometers.

I decided too to get another truck. While stuck in the road. We met 7 trucks who passed us and they had no available seats. It was even more difficult to get a truck in middle of the road. Especially, I didn't even have enough cash with me.

Then when I was out of idea. Come this big red truck. The driver stopped for few minutes the car. Then I met another married woman. Her husband was working at my uncle's hospital in laboratory.

She was upset that I was in big danger in middle of the road and no far from another villager where the UFERI or JUFERI who were in all the villager could come and kill me.
JUFERI was the youth association of UFERI. Already in the all rural area in Katanga the government was not existing. UFERI was governing. They could even sentence people to death. UFERI become the law.

She went straight to the driver and begged him to take me. Finally the driver accepted to take me aboard of his track. Then when I was about to put my bag on that track. I met Samba the woman from Kasai who was married there.

She had four children and told me in crying: "My husband has chased me with all my children. I begged him to leave the children with him. He said that the children were the gift she gave me"

I tried to comfort her for a while then we left the place. She was next to me like my wife. I could play with her children. The children who were very young didn't know what was going on. It looks like she was giving birth to children each and every year.

Samba made four children in the five years she was married. The first born was about 5 years old and the lasts one who 9 months.

When I was about to make myself a place to seat on top of the truck. I heard someone warning me: "Please, Please brother make sure that you don't seat on top of the peanut"

The main customer in the truck had about 40 big bags of peanut. He bought them in one of the rural area and was going to sell them in town. It was apparently a very good fortune.

This truck was more powerful and was driving at about 60 to 80 miles an hours. With very few passengers some 15 peoples only.
We reached the biggest mountain called Mulumbi in two days. It was a long 15 kilometers of series of ascent and descent. Only one truck or car was driving in.

Before you get the green light to drive in. They hit a big bell and wait for bell the other side to respond. If you don't hear a responding bell the other side that mean there is a coming car in the way.

The community workers were working in shift in that mountain to hit the big bell. It was also dangerous in those areas because of lions living in the mountain. Most dangerous a small driver mistake the car was to be in the valley. The road was small the mountain at the left house and a valley on the left.

We waited for 6 hours to get the permission to climb the mountain. It was late night that we were in the mountains. After this challenging mountain the road was much better except some rainy mad here and there.

As we were approaching the troubled town of Likasi the danger started. UFERI member were checking in the car Kasaien. Likasi was about 120 kilometers of Lubumbashi.

People said that in those villages near by Likasai. They were stopping car and ask to suspect Kasaien the name of the each fingers in the local dialects.

I don't know if we were lucky not to meet the barriers or it was exaggeration�In that troubles time anything could have been possible.

The only slight trouble was when we stopped in one of the village and by mistake Samba called her one of her child by a Kasaien name Kapinga. A villager selling food heard the name while trying to mobilize his brothers UFERI.

The driver noticed that move and quick told everybody to get aboard the vehicle and we left. We don't know what happen behind us.
If in that period of time the cell phones where popular like today we could have been stopped in the village ahead. The lack of the communication technology worked on our favour.

If the genocide of Rwanda happen before this event. I think it could have motivated the killer to easily kill us. It look like even when were attacked in Manono. Many killers didn't have any experience of killing. It look like they were about to learn to kill. Not knowing really what to do, to shoot or to slander.

After tree and half days we were in the troubled city of Likasi. We went first in the township to off load the peanut bags. While they were loading the peanut. We met many people in the township telling us about what happened in the tribal fight.
The owner of the peanut gave us the passengers a tuff time in the truck. The truck was mainly charged by his bag of peanuts and passenger seating on top of the merchandize but he didn�t want people to miss the peanuts. He used to complaint and telling us: �please seat well, you are missing my peanuts�
It was just too difficult to seat where there was no beg of peanuts. The begs were every where and with many people on top of the truck trying to avoid the branch of trees whipping people every time it touches you and even injured some. We were also many on top of that truck.

We hear this man who was praising himself of having slaughtered many Kasaien and even babies. "We thrown that Kasaien baby against the wall and we hit him like a soccer ball and step on top of her had"

I look at the man who was proudly telling the story didn't correspond to that story.
One of the truck passengers directly introduced me before the Katangese identifies me: �this is our brother a son of a Katangese and a Portuguese.

Then another man supported him: �I see. I see even his curly hairs"
I never knew that I had curly hairs until that man said. It needed only minutes for the slaughters to come from all the corners if only one could have screamed of seeingone of the Kasaien. In many suburbs in Likasi they managed to get read of all the unwanted people.
Then after like an hour in the township on our way to Lubumbashi. The driver passed by the train's station in Manono.

It is where my downfall to my dream started. May be I was just too emotional to see those image. Thousand of people in a very small space. The place was just not smelling well. The Red Cross was helping the refugees but it wasn't good enough. Seeing people even struggling to burry the loved one was unacceptable.

People starving, people dying from cholera and no place to bury them. I couldn't believe that the situation in Likasi was dramatic. Sometime what we hear it is too different from what we see. My concern is that they were human like everybody not that they were members of my tribes.
Many left Kasai many generations ago and like me, we all knew that we are born in Katanga and we are all Katangese.

I felt that this image will affect my life forever. I didn't know how but I was sure that some how it will affect my life. They were waiting for the train to Kasai and the trains weren't big enough to take everybody to Kasai.

After like 30 minutes we left the train's station to Lubumbashi. Now the road was paved and in a very good state. In two hours not days we were in Lubumbashi.

When I arrived to my mother's house I met many of my uncle's visiting that time. They were all happy welcoming me with the tears of joy.

My first shock of the city was the big Gecamines smoke hall wasn't working anymore. It was a sign of Lubumbashi. The mineral used to be transformed there. And it was working everyday without a stop.

I wondered if it was the fall of Gecamines and kept wondering what the reason behind the disaster was. The company that the politicians used as a suitable excuses to chase their neighbours wasn't working anymore.

Then two days later when I was sleeping. I heard my mother talking with some men saying that: �he is already here. He is sleeping"

The priest in Manono when they heard that I took a road worthy vehicle. They tried to contact churches car that were going to Lubumbashi with one instruction to take me in their car.

Those two priests who were taking to my mother were from Malemba Nkulu who had to direct they car taking a long cut to try to rescue me. They arrived at that stacked car they told them that I left with a red truck.

In the road they keep asking to me to every truck they met wondering were I was. When they reached Lubumbashi, they were still wondering if really I reached the destination.

They were relieved when my mother told them that I arrived and when they saw me.

I tried to ignore what happen in Manono. I immediately took the opportunity when the man who promoted us to red belt comes to Lubumbashi. Mr. Park promoted me to black belt second Dan. I was just the youngest man to have that belt.

But inside of me. I could take anymore. The images of Likasi were running in my mind every time. They were no clash in Lubumbashi, but some people were voluntary leaving. All my family member wanted to leave for Kasai too.

At the radio stations, television station and news paper Katangese were insulting and urging the population to fight and chase all the Kasaien. The governmental army was just overpowered by the number of UFERI. They tried they best to stop but couldn�t. Kyungu and other leader kept using the media to incite the population.

My uncle Dr. Tshimpuki did a blinder while in Lubumbashi. He decided to return in Manono. It wasn't long that returned two weeks later for good. I don't know really what happened to him this time. He loved Manono and his people so much.

It was the hell system where you burn and don't die. I kept wondering how those people chased in Katanga were living in Kasai. Many have left many generations ago to return to the land they don't even know anymore.
And it come a priority to me. After tree months in Lubumbashi. I was with my mother when we went to my father's pharmacy.

My father had pharmacies in all the provinces in Congo. I used to get money for school fees and other thing at the represent of my father's pharmacy in Lubumbashi called Pharmagros.

They were many people that day in the pharmacy. Then while my mother was introducing some people who were there. I heard saying: "Meet your uncle Mwamba Kabuyi. He is your father half brother. The first born of your paternal grand father Kabuyi who had tree wife"

The first that come to my mind was: �This thing of polygamous is a family culture. How a grand father could have tree wives?"

I immediately greeted him and said: "I want to go home"
He immediately said: "Of course. You are welcome if you want to see the mother land"

He was based in Mbuji Mayi the capitol city of Kasai. He was in Zambia were he went to buy his pharmacy stock. The paternal uncles were all in the medicine business.

Then he asked me: �how do you want to go. By airplane of by train?"
To satisfy my curiosity I told him. I want to go by the second option, the train.

It took the advantage too to travel before the matrix result come out. With all the political instabilities, we didn't know when our result will come out.
Before the departure we had the last family meeting and meal that was taking place to our house every Friday evening where all the families� relatives in Lubumbashi attend. It was an important meal, it where we sue to solve the families� problems. Elders will teach us about the tradition. It is where all the decision where taking places and solve all the differences. It was always the best day of our weeks. But the happiest days of the week turned to be the saddest days of our life. The grand father Disashi I remember screamed and cried out: �nowhere to run". He recalled the sad family journey when he fought with his neighbour in Kasai is home land where they wanted him to pay for the Disashi who was the slave traders. The wanted his family lineage to pay for his sin. He took refuge in Katanga then in Katanga they wanted him back where he run away.
Even Lubumbashi wasn't clear of the unwanted tribes from Kasai. Every Kasai wanted real to return too. From streets to the radio morning and afternoon hearing all sort of insults, names given to the Kasaien. The people who supposed to protect the citizen encouraging the force repatriation. Nothing was pleasant in Katanga for Kasaien.
Kasaien being fired from works without noticed. They belonging taking away. And marriages ending... People and neighbours, colleagues who used to live like families become enemies.
The grand father thought that he will never see again Kasai. But now he was forced to return not knowing what was waiting for him in his ancestor's land.

The plan was set. And I heard to travel with uncle Mwamba Kabuyi to Kasai. When my uncle Tshimpuki who wasn't a fan of my father heard the news. Surprise was very happy that I join my paternal family.

Few days I was traveling to the land Kasai the land of the popular leader Thisekedi of UDPS, Union Democratic for the Progress Social. This time my mother didn't want to accompany me to the train station. I understood she could hold the tear back seeing me living. I tortured her a lot. Leaving her every time.

Before I leave the house she gave me some few advises to respect my biological and adoptive father and families. She insisted that write to her or call her every time I get a chance. She insisted too that one day she will tell me more truth about my life. She insisted that I should close my mouth in my paternal family, hear like if I don't hear. Look like if I don't see. In short she was trying to tell me not to care about all the injustice I could experience.

Then she repeated her old advice: You are going alone please return alone. Meaning, to avoid the love relationship.

It was a sense of a slight relieve for the family at least among them one was going to the safer land. I wasn't thinking anymore of going to the grand seminary. My priority was to see all the people who were forced to leave Katanga were living in Kasai.

The Likasi image were torturing me, seeing thousands and thousands of people living in a small space, the train station, the smell of urine and human's extract, people starving from hunger, people forced out of they houses and jobs and people dying without a place to be bury. Mwamba Kabuyi my paternal uncle who met for the first time in life already took me like his own son. I must be thankful for this man.

We took the train. In Lubumbashi the train wasn't really full. Many volunteer people were leaving the province their loved.

After four hours of traveling at around 4 in the evening the train arrived at Likasi. It is here that the drama started. Thousands of people precipitated in the train with only one hope. To hold even one part of the train with only one hope to reach their ancestor land, Kasai.

Many people were already sick after waiting for the train in the unsanitary area for many days.
The train now was full no space. Every where it was full of people mixture of sweating and different smell.

It is what I wanted to see. It was impossible to move or reach the toilet. Many people here were talking the dialect of Kasai and French. I was talking with my uncle in French, I could hear some words in the Kasai dialect but couldn't talk.

At some two hundred kilometers of Likasi. Some people started dying. And people were forced to throw their own children and friends. No place to bury them. It was suicidal but people didn't have any choice it was the only think to do.

Already, many people were orphans in the train loosing their parents. But most of people who were dying were children. The train was going at about 40 kilometers an hours with many stops.

Everybody had one thing in mind just to reach their ancestor's land. Many people didn't know where to go once there in Kasai but wanted to land in Kasai. They grand parents left that province generations ago. The origin and race has become a condemnation.

In Likasi there have been deaths in both sides in the tribe fight. But many Kasaien died later from disease, stress�Even in Rwanda genocide some killers and some who were incited violence were arrested but not in this fight.

The sad news is the genocide of Rwanda at least many killers and their inciters were captured and judged but here no one was captured and judged. Many people who were leaving in the isolated villagers were just killed without any cause.

I didn't know why the Kasai kept calling themselves Jewish and their mother land Israel. I asked my uncle and he told me it because they are persecuted like Jewish in all the provinces not only in Katanga. The second reason is that they were stick to their culture and the third one is because they are more successful. They have many things in common with Jewish.

In Likasi the train was free. The government of UFERI had arranged the transport for the unwanted people.
After tree days and half. The train entered the ancestors land.

I could feel a total sense of relieve and the refugee started singing their revolutionary song: �The day is coming when great Kasai will be a independent land. The day is coming when all the children of this province will enjoy alone the fruit of their diamond. The day is coming when the great Kasai will raise and revenge. The great Kasai is coming. Even in ghetto or outside we will sleep. Even wild herb we will eat waiting for the great Kasai."

I could feel a sense of total joy when the train crossed the bridge separating Katanga to Kasai.

Unbelievable, I was leaving the land that I loved so much. With tear of pain I quick recalled my life in Katanga. Yes many Katangese were against people of Kasai but many Katangese loved too people of Kasai and other origin. Like they say that every place you will always find even one good men. But the good one had no power to prevent the majority of looting the people of Kasai.

Some pretended to be good but deep inside they accepted their leader intoxication. Yes we were chassed by Katangese and at the same time we were also saved by good Katangese. It may be true that majority of the opportunities were taken by people of Kasai but not all the people from Kasai in Katanga were riche and successful. May be the timing and the rushing of change wasn't that good. The brutal changes didn't do any good.

In the battle of the elephants, it only trees and herbs that suffer. When the leaders fight it only the ordinary people who suffer. Mobutu wanted to save in failing system in allying to Katanga. They only took advantage of the injustice and the unhappiness of people in chasing Kasaien. Kasaien were anti Mobutu rallying behind their all time charismatic leader Tshisekedi. Sad how politic could divide people.

Born in Lubumbashi, after moving from many houses. We settle in the area called Bel Air. In the street called Dezinias. And opposite our house was the military camp called: "Camp Pre Fabriqu�"

It was called pre fabriqu� because it was quickly build with movable material. I recalled when I was a young boy. My mother had a lot of guess in the house.

Before they eat they wished themselves "Bon appetit" meaning enjoy your meal.
That time I didn't have any nick name like my friend had. Most of my friend were called by their French adopted named: Alain, Jacques, Francois, Olivier, Jean Jacques,�

I felt in love with bon appetit. I begged my mother to give me that nick name. All the guess were laughing while I was playing under the chair. I insisted for many days while my mother refused to call me: "Bon appetit". It went for days until my mother decided to call me the hated name: "Prince". I asked why she gave me a bad surname Prince?

She tried to explain that some of our ancestor where from the traditional royal family in Tshilenge. The village in Mbuji Mayi. I hated that name until she won my heart week later. At least I won one battle. I had a nickname that I didn't have.

I started school at 5 in 1982 in Lubumbashi in a Gecamines school in the area called Mampala. It was very far from our house and we used to catch the Gecamines buses to school.

Sometime my mother was giving us a lift but her car started having a lot of break down.

Then the drama started the Gecamines buses become really irregular. We were catching public transport and some time walk to school.

Then one day while returning from school walking with my sister who was in pre school, Monique Lusamba. I met colleague jus outside the Gecamines hospital running.

I didn't know why they were running. We joined them running.
Then I hit a big branch root and fall. I tried to wake up and I fail. Then I heard a big bum.

I didn't know where that noise was coming from. Then I tried to run for a while then I saw darkness in my eyes, and then suddenly got many dreams. I woke up for a while hear people crying.

Then I feinted again. I wake up, I saw myself surrounded with people wearing white clothes. Then I slept again, and then I saw people in white clothes rushing in the strange room.

I wasn't really dreaming. I realized that I was in hospital.

The colleagues that I early met were running against a mad man called: "Papa Wemba". He was chasing people with a big stick. When I felt the first time and tried to run. I was caught by the mad man who hit me with a big stick.

The bum that I was wondering was it come from was in fact from my back.
When I dreamed and so darkness. I lost conscience and then heard women crying. It was the women selling outside the hospital who were crying to the drama.

As I was next to the hospital the doctors rushed to me and took my 4 years young sister Monique who was crying next to me while the mad man was chased by the hospital securities who come to my rescue.

Then I the doctor emergency room. I was resuscitated by the doctors. It took many minutes to see me alive. The doctors contacted my school teachers and traced my mother who comes to fetch my sister and I spend 2 weeks in hospital.

Shortly when I was realized. I remember that I obliged my mother to give me only baby's food that I liked the most "Cerelac". They sent us to Kolwezi to my grand parent Monique and me to another Gecamines school to complete the years.

It where I met my teenager uncles who were practicing karate and they started to teach me karate. It wasn't for long because the grand father retired from driving the Gecamines and come to Lubumbashi with all the family.

One year later I remember that I saw in Lubumbashi Papa Wemba the mad man in the middle of street in Lubumbashi doing the traffic cop. It was the last time to see him. I don't know what happened to him.

I recalled how in 1982, people were saying that it could be the end of the world. I don't know why but many people were saying that the world will end.

Then in 1984. My uncle Charles Kangodia Disashi graduated from the veterinary school in Lubumbashi and took Monique and me in the farm were he got a job at about 360 kilometers from Lubumbashi called Biano.

The good thing about this place his that it had a railing station too. The reason my uncle took me it was because of the mad man scandal. We used to fight and argue with Monique she was just one year younger. We use to be good friend at the same time.

Biano had two small village called Biano one and Biano two. It was next to a animal park too.
My uncle's company was called Grelka. It had a lot of cows. My uncle lived in Biano one and the school was in Biano two. The distance between those small village was 7 kilometers.

We were obliged most of the time to walk to Biano two to study. We were working in group of about hundred pupils. It was fun walking and playing all the way. It only in the morning that we were rushing little bit to school.

But when we were returning it was just full of fun. We used to take on our back two to tree hours.

We were drinking a lot of cow's milk. Uncle Charles wife, Tina was our mother to us. We were calling her Maman Tina. She used to take like her own children.

Tina, my uncle Charles was very strict and very disciplined. Before we eat he used to take our school book and ask us questions. Before even meal we had to know our school lesson well.

He was very serious with life. His friend at school told me that he was not playing with women. He used to study a lot.

But one day I fail a test even after over studying. It was the colour of the Congolese flag. We studied that red was the colour of the blood (Martyr). Green was the colour of the Congolese vegetation and yellow was the colour of the minerals.

But the teacher when he asked questions. What was the meaning of the green coulour, then yellow colour and lastly red colour.

I responded in order according the teaching: red, green and yellow. Then I put on paper: Green colour wrote the meaning of red coulour. Yellow colour I wrote the meaning of green coulour and lastly red colour I wrote the meaning of yellow colour.

I got 2 out of 20 marks. It was really a drama and my uncle was very angry with me and went personally to see the teacher to ask what went wrong with me?

I supposed to have 0 out of 20 marks. I don't even know where the 2 marks I got come from. It was my biggest fail that remain in my mind.

One of the incidents I witnessed is when we were returning in our group from school and meet an unknown car. All the children knew the Grelka's car. But this car was new in the area. Or someone was just passing in the road.

I saw all the children running away in the bush. I joined them and we kept running not knowing why.
We ran for many kilometers in the bush I just hold the human who was very important to me, my younger sister Monique. Then after like 45 minutes of running we returned in the usual road.

Then I had a chance to ask the old boy in our group who was like 12 years old why we kept running while apparently no one was following us?

He told me that they are some kind of people who drives cars and kidnap children and eat them.
Even if I was very young I really took this idea as stupid idea. I didn't believe to his version of story.

We used to meet the group of small animals and snakes. But weren't scared of the group of elephant that we meet. One day we meet the Buffalo with big horn. I had panic to see this big animal. I took my young sister and run away. Few in our group ran too but mostly people were not scared.

An other traumatized moment was we saw a huge snake: "Boa" who had just swallows a antelope. Not moving, we saw the leg of the animal outside his big jaw. We didn't run but we all scared. In the afternoon when we arrived in Biano, some of the colleagues arrived in the farm village told their parents. They went to kill the snake and killed and eat the snake.

I remember how my uncle Charles Kangodia Disashi was making traps killing the lions who were eating his company's cows. Some time him and his colleagues were taking their gun take a jeep with a big lamp on top of the car were going to hunt the lions.

The traps were made of cows with wire connecting to a heavy kind of gun ejecting bullet in form of knife. Once the lions eat the cows and move the wire their knife got off. He used to set at home the plan and the machinery then move it to the area where he suspects the lions were.

Some time it works, some time not. Most of the time the lion was dying far from the scene with wounds. The some villagers used to eat lion's meat. They said it was like any meat. Many were taking the bones for traditional medicines and magic use.

The bones were used by some villager to give them strength in fight or strong character to dominate like the lions dominate all the animals. But my uncle Charles was interested in collecting the lion's skin, nails and tooth. He will keep all the skins of lions he has killed to sell them to tourists when he goes on leave in Lubumbashi.

The lions were a big treat to the company. The cows could run away just by the smell of the foes of lions. Only the big male cows were resisting little bit to lions but were always over take by the king of the forest.

It here where we were hearing that a man has died in the village each time a lion is killed.
People used to say that some people had magic stuff to transform into lion and kill eat the animal.
While the man is shot in the lion's nature we will die later.

They said that they were two kinds of lions: the natural one and the fake one.
I doubt the authenticity of the stories but they were just good to hear with the coincidence of death in the village making those stories little bit mysterious.

The popular kind of the stories was the story of tree men who went to see a witchcraft to have the magic to be transformed as lion and hunt animals.

The witchcraft gave them the magic stuff. They become the lion. Because at the start they weren't that much experienced they were failing to catch many animals and were starving some time.

So the witch craft doctor decided to send his wife to give them food in the park. Then one days the tree human lions ate the witch craft doctor's wife. The witchcraft doctor for revenge punished them and their remained lion's forever.

They wanted to returned to their human nature but couldn't. Then they were coming to the village Biano roar days and night wanting to return to their nature.

What was interesting to these stories is that my colleagues were even naming the names of those tree peoples and the name of the defunct witchdoctor's wife plus the name of the witch doctor who was still alive.

Until one of human lions was finally wounded by the residents and their decided to relocated in the forest. But still the colleagues kept saying that time to time they used to come to the village.

They told me that they knew the lion's trio because they were all male and walk in a group of tree.
Quiet difficult to judge. The male lions are always enemies. They live in a group of lionesses. The male lion is always a lazy animals sleeping the all days waiting for the lionesses to hunt a bring food.

Some said it because they were big and little bit slow to hunt while the lionesses were small and fast. Once the lions get old, the younger one or the strongest male lions will chase him in that group and take over all the lionesses as his wives.

Then he will kill of the children that are not his biological children. Some time the lionesses will resist. Lion's life was shorter than the lionesses� life.

Those chases lion's time to time walk alone and in hiding their join the lionesses group.

The old man in the village wanted us to walk in group not alone because in group we were much safer against animals. They urged us to climb the straight trees once we see the lion's or dangerous animal.

For all those two years in spend in this village we didn't meet the lion on our way but some time could hear the roar of lion very far in the park.

The park wasn't protected with fences. It was a space that the authority traced with the bushes and rivers as frontier. Ii was forbidden to hunt in those area but many people were breaking the laws.

I was wondering why they don't call the big and lovely animal elephant the king of the forest? Until one night we heard the roar of the lion next to our house. It was just to strong that some of the drinking glasses fail from the table.

My uncle who loved to hunt and kill animal was quick with his gun. Maman Tina scared tried to prevent him from going outside he refused. We didn't have any electricity in Biano but in that darkness he went alone out with his gun and fired some gun shot. He had a good gun.

Our house was some 100 meters away from the villager were the farm employees lived. He was like the chief of the section in Biano. Shortly, some employee who had guns joined him but they fail to see and shoot the dangerous animal who was gone in the bush in the middle of the night.

It is in this village where the teachers make me jump grade 4 because they were not enough teacher in those areas. Grade 4 didn�t exist later when we left this village they tried to find a teacher. They had to get teacher from town but all the teachers used to refuse to teach in the rural area such us Biano.

I recalled at the end of each academic year we used to eat together and make a party and dance to the traditional songs. Everybody was laughing at me when I was imitating them in their dance. My best friends were my young sister Monique Lusamba and school mate Vincent.

Then two years my uncle was transferred in another area called Luniemu. This one was quiet big and little bit modernized. They had no electricity but we were using the electrical engine until 22 hours.

The good thing in Luniemu is that we were capturing television. The nearest town Kamina a military based had a television antenna.

Here the biggest challenge was that at school people were calling me: "red man". I used to get angry and follow them and they were just making fans of me.

They were no many animals here and the school was just in the center of the village. The farming company Grelka that time had some 35 000 cows in different villages called sections. It was one of the biggest farms in the province of Katanga. Katanga had very few farms.

It is in Luniemu that I heard the taste of riding bicycle and together with friend we could go far in the bush to hunt small animals with dogs especially rabbits. We were burning the bushes and following the running animal with dogs.

We loved dogs and we gave them our saw names. We could see which dog is fast and the useless one. We were catching rat and bird. Making bird traps. Our big disaster is when we found one day in the bird trap a snake.

We could make fire in our small kind of camp. Burn the meat and eat them. Some time go around and play soccer with different teams from our area. We were also running amount us just to see who was the fastest one.

It wasn't for long I got my primary certificate. The village had no secondary school. And my young sister Monique couldn't cope alone without me. My uncle Charles decided to send us back to Lubumbashi to study.

I remember it was mourning for my uncle and Maman Tina. It was hard for us too because we got used to my uncle's family and the village.

My uncle's friend who was traveling to Lubumbashi took care of us. We fetched the train in Kamina the military base. Packed with our bags and many gifts they gave me at school for French Excellency. We traveled for two days to see ourselves in Lubumbashi.

Just arrived in Lubumbashi. We found the family divided. My mother Mutoka has differences with her mother Lusamba.

The first thing I did was to reject my mothers call to visit my grand parents. I loved my grand mother Lusamba who was a mother to me. I could leave in Lubumbashi without her.

Just my decision to refuse my mother's call was one of their step to reconciliation. Without even knowing it. Their divided families were forced to talk to each other when my mother goes to fetch me to my grand parent house.

My uncles and cousins Kaninda, Disashi, Mukala, Mwamba Disashi, Mulumba Salomon, David Bashala and others master like Yalebe, Mota all wanted to teach me Karate. At home and tree different karate club.

The strange thing they were brothers but when it come to art martial they had many differences and were training in the different clubs. But all where selected in the provincial team and some in the national team.

Each and every one gave me extra lesson some time giving me confusion in my mind. In their spare time they all teach me plus in their clubs.

I end up even neglecting playing soccer with my friends. I stopped even fighting with my sister Monique and then in street. The culture of Karate was not to fight in street or show off your strength. The only time you may fight is only in the extreme defense situation.

They taught us to avoid trouble and run away from trouble. They taught us not to take risk.

Karate becomes a culture to me and part of me. I was already a vice captain in one of the club. It is what I could have done after school. They were no bushes to hunt like I used to do in Luniemu.

Academic year 1986-1987, I was studying in the public school called: Kiwele. My mother was decided to send me in the school run by priest but it was always full. She didn't have enough time to keep returning at priest school in time for the inscription.

Then we lost our big house in Dezinias Bel- Air. It was shock to my mother. She got a four room�s house in Papayer. Then after her colleagues advises she went to live in the central town called: Ville. In the street Lubilashi at her company's 3 rooms house.

It coincided with the arrival of Tshimpuki in Lubumbashi. While he was trying to find a job he spend few months with us. When we were about to moves from Dezinias street. I kept calling me aside telling me that we won't see anymore this big house.

I didn't take it seriously until we moved. I started missing the big space we had in the house of four bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, 2 living rooms, kitchen, study room and many annexes.

We had a big yard to where I used to invite friend by. Specially the children of soldiers to play soccer.

The only time I returned to soccer it was in a soccer tournament called: "Frasie" meaning brotherhood organized in Lubumbashi. Another man decided to include me as a defender in the one of the team.

I refused until he went to talk to my mother to return in the soccer activities. My mother told me that it was important that I play soccer like most of my friend did.

Then I accepted and my name was included in a team. I completely lost interest in soccer but loved watching soccer on television. Then slowly I started coming back to soccer. Our team was down until I equalized in the optional time and we won the game in the extra time.

We went on to win the final and got some gift and medal. Then I join the development side of Lupopo training not far from us. But I loved the team Mazembe. Just when I joined the development side of my favorite team two weeks later I was on my way to the petit seminary.

I got in trouble with independent churches. I wrote like twenty letters to churches begging them to help poor people: orphans and beggars instead of buying luxury cars.

Many churches didn't like the idea especially I was young. Some of my uncles shut at me for writing this kind of letters. I think it wasn't really a blinder but they interpretation and the timing wasn't that appreciated too.

Another blinder I did. It was when I passed with few max in years 1987-1988. From 80% the previous years I end up with 52%. I was scared that my family won't be happy with me.

This is year I didn't study correctly. I didn't took school as my priority. Not only because of sport commitment and being part of the scientific research club. But I secretly spend time in another sect with my uncle Mulumba.

Then I realized that thing were not good when they told us to go to the cemetery at night. I went twice to the cemetery short after that I told our group leader that I was not interested to continue.

No one knew or still know that I intended that sect. I used to run away even at school during the school hours to attend those secretly meeting.

They menaced me that I will die if I leave that sect. They said that I have given them blood in one of the ceremony and they had my life in my hands. I didn't look back. I remember telling my uncle Salomon Mulumba was still committed in that sect and the leader: "Let death follow me."

At school time was running out to change the outcome of my mediocre result. With one of my colleague called Ilunga too, we went to buy forged reports with good max to show to our parents.

To make the matter worst when my family found out. We gave the name of our zoology teacher as the one who sold us the reports. I do apologize to the teacher for all the trouble we put him through.

My uncle Salomon Mulumba who was a member of that secret sect also followed my foot step but in a very scandalous wounding with a machete the group leader who misled him for many months. He almost dropped out of the college.

He lost valuable year and the respect in the community.

I remembered when I was about 5 years old. We studied that the chicken were owing the corbeau (crow) a sewing needle. It why to revenge the crow always take the small chicken in revenge.

Yes, the big bird crows were taking many small chickens. I returned home very upset trying to rescue the chicken.

The chickens were just walking every where in the city and the big bird used to take the small chicken.

When I returned from school before I rest and take anything I went inside the room took a sewing needle went next to the chicken and put. Thinking of repaying the chicken credit.

Then I realized that the chicken were not even interested in the needle even ignoring. I waited for many minutes outside the house waiting for crows to come and take the needle but no crow come to fetch what we learnt that he wanted, the needle that the chicken owed him.

I went inside the house thinking that my presence will perturb the two animal: chicken and the big bird crow to settle their difference.

But the crow keep taking the small chicken after various tried I finally told one of my uncle how I was trying to settle the dispute of crow and the chicken.

He laughed loudly then told me that that story do not exist in real life. All the stories were not truth.

I regretted for many days that there is no way to save the chicken children from being eaten by the crow.

I recalled that moment again when I argued with my mother and decided to sleep outside on the stairs of another building. Two passing men later a night saw me and they run away. They surely thought I was what they call TOKOLOSHI, the small short ghost creature. I couldn't believe that even big people were scared in the dark.

A last one experience I won't forget. It is when I went to visit my uncle Mwamba Disashi. I slept over at his place. The room was too small and next door room was close to his and other two people were renting. They were hearing the radio and it was my mother Mutoka who was presenting a women interest emotion called, La femin�. On one of her break she played a popular song called Mario sand by Franco Lwambo Makiadi.
Then she cut the song on the middle to continue with her talking. The neighbour who loved that song insulted her, "imbecile" meaning "idiot". I witness how my uncle Mwamba heard the insult very angry he went to fight his neighbours for insulting her journalist sister.

The sad news was that those tribal fights will always return after a period of time. Even thought the peaceful period will occur in between. The sad news is that every political event s will affect the people on the ground. We used to say that the fight of elephants (politician) is that plants (ordinary people) suffer the consequences.

Whatever happens in Katanga. Katanga and his people really will still have a special place in my heart. I thank God too for being born in that province. I enjoyed the best moment of my life even though I prematurely was about to loose my life.
Before the Rwandese genocide, and Darfour (Sudan) genocide, there was the Katangese Kasaien genocide. Where the government who suppose to protect people incite people to violence.

After recalling all the moment in my mind. I could not stop the tears from falling.
While trying to cross the first bridge separating to Katanga and moving toward the first train station in the province of Kasai. I kept wondering how Mbuji Mayi the first city in Kasai look like. The world capital of diamond and witchcraft.

I kept wondering if I will see the witches at night. I kept wondering how the small reach stones look like. I kept wondering how the ancestor land will look like. Then I wondered how many refugees will be received.

I realize that really the witches were not those, children, women and men suspected of flying naked at night with a broom in the dark world. May be it was they hobby but really politicians were the true witches. The bad politician, who were greedy, not caring about poor people on the ground. They try to start the fire and play the fire fighter.

They were real true witches not the illusionist. Mobutu was a dictator but he wasn't alone. It was more a system of thousands of people. Even thought he was the head of that system thousand of people at least could have been in jails.
From that day I called the true witches bad politician not people who were beaten by the community as witches.

I felt pity for poor prisoners in jails while the true prisoners� politician were walking freely. I fail the injustice. The wounds in me that will never been cured for the rest of my life and for the coming generation. I was not alone with rage plenty of people from Kasai, Katanga were in the same situation than me. Those who lived peaceful with their neighbours turn fighting against each other.
I could hear the Kasaien saying that they were Jewish, when other tribes meet for they traditional meeting they call it a traditional meting but when Kasaien meet they were called tribalistes. They say that they were hated from the colonist�s period to the post colonial period, They say that they were hated, they were successful. They were convinced that they were returning to their Israel Kasai.
They felt that they were on they own against all the government. They have lost trust in any government and they promises. They say even if you give any government 100 years they will only gives you plans not realizing the promises.
After few hours in the train we reached the Major train's station in Kasai. Almost half of the passenger got off the train. The station was called Muene Ditu. It was a big city without adequate infrastructure like many cities in Katanga. I realized that the province has no infrastructure like in Katanga.

We saw here and there many people begging for food and money. Some were respected in Katanga: engineer, doctors...I realized that it was tuff lives for thousands of people who left Katanga for their ancestors land. Some beggars were people who were doctors, judges, engineer, poor and rich from Katanga. To identify the returnees they called them Bena Katanga, people from Katanga. Many have even forgotten they lives.
I saw the temporary refugee camp for thousands or almost of millions of people chased from Katanga in this town. With few Red Cross and organization helping them. Many people who got off the train also joined them in that camp. But the assistance was just too little for the numbers of people.

Some people in Kasai were joking sometime, �you run away from us accusing us for witchcraft, now you are returning. We will eat you now�

It looks like the tribal fight caught the province by surprise. It wasn't prepared to receive this large population suddenly.

But all the refugee had one thing in common. They were all happy to be home. I quick remembered the adage: it better to be in a house where there is no food but have peace than being in the house where there are many food but without peace.
There is been in the world many genocides that went not notified. There have been TRC (true and Reconciliation Community) in the some countries such us Liberia, Sierra Leone, Angola, South Africa even the holocaust had some kind of judgment but nothing was never done for the Katangese Kasaien genocide. No one had even an international call for any arrest. Was it because Mobutu the dictator was supported by powerful nation�s in the world that even helps him to grab power? Does some human�s life have no values? I think they killed people not animals.
Why some genocide had and killing of people must be hidden from the rest of the world?
Some of the refugees already were settling well in the province. The tribal fight was also a source of blessing for Kasai. Many come with the ideas acquired in Katanga and were implanting their businesses and idea in the provinces.

Many companies too were emigrating to Kasai too. But the major challenges were the lack of electricity.
We took a taxi to Mbuji Mayi the biggest city. The taxi driver impressed me. He was well dressed and was speaking Swahili and French. Swahili was spoken in Katanga.

Then my uncle asked him a question. Where is from?
He responded: "I used to be an engineer in Katanga. I studied at Mutoshi in Kolwezi and went to continue my studies in Kinshasa and Belgium."

Then entered in his private life. The road from Muene Ditu to Mbuji Mayi was paved but was quiet small.
He said: "I arrived in this province four months ago. I lost my house and my too cars to my domestics workers. I got a chance to be hired by my ex colleagues who gave me this car to do the taxi."

It was quiet sad to hear how the man has fallen from hero to zero. But he had a lot of hope for a better future as he added: "I am struggling for now but I will get a way out. It is a sacrifice that we are doing. Many people who were respected in Katanga are beggars here but it just for few times. In one year we will all settle and find a way to develop our province"

I was happy at least that this man had hope for hundreds of thousands of refugees who poured in the province. The taxi driver kept told us: "welcome home."

I wondered how he knew that I was rise in Katanga. Then I asked him how he knew that I grow up in Katanga.
He answered that it because I speak a pure French. Many people of Kasai has a different tune. Then immediately started comforting me:

"Young brother. I know that you went thorough many troubles. That is part of the sacrifices we are making for the coming of the great Kasai. Many people died. Many people lost their loved one. Many become prematurely orphans because of politic. Many people have been thrown in the train. Many people lost their valuable human's body part. It only part of the sacrifices. This province has many opportunities. All the Kasaien Diaspora will return one day�"

One word comes into my mind. In the train they kept singing of the great Kasai and this man is talking of the coming of the great Kasai. My uncle Muamba Kabuyi wasn't really impressed with what the man was talking about. He kept nodding his head may be to please the taxi driver.

I asked the taxi driver what was the great Kasai?

He then started to explain to me: " The great Kasai is coming may be after 20 years from now. When the children of this province will take responsibilities of their own income. The diamond have been taken by Belgium. Is taken by the dictator Mobutu who will die and he will be quick forgotten and many other leaders will take our land's resources. Then future generation will rebel and take control of our resources one day. It when we will build our cities and we will rise. The good news is that those fighters are already born they are just young to take the responsibilities yet."

I kept quiet and the taxi driver noticed that I was quiet and then continued: "It is too difficult for you to understand now. It is about time that the change will come. Many people put hope in Tshisekedi. But Tshisekedi is a nationalist. Is not the man who will free Kasai. We are still waiting for our freedom fighters. He is a hospital that the government use. When the government is sick appoint Tshisekedi as the leader. When it get cured dump him. In history taught us that opposition leaders like Tshisekedi don't have the luxury assume the presidency or other post of their choice. If Tshisekedi become the president or premier minister it just a bonus"

This man seems to be a perfect analyst and talking with precision mixed with anger and hope the same time. I wasn't a politician to back him or even contradict him. He kept telling me: "People are not happy to see their vanishing like this and the province do not infrastructure. The diamond production keeps increasing every years but the province do not have infrastructure. It the reason why the sons of this province will rebel in forming a federal or independent state. Diamond will last forever as long as beautiful women exist into this world. But many mineral will vanish because of the alternative technology will replace them. Diamond is a mystery stones mix with blood before peace: look at Sierra Leone, look at Angola and look at South Africa. Namibia�"

The driver was more a teacher than a talker saying: "the time of copper in Katanga is over. The mines will be the next museums."

I said to myself: "this man have bad souvenir and he end up the land he worked for"

This man was keeping talking. Until I saw Mbuji Mayi from far. The taxi driver that we didn't ask him his name asked me:
"You thought you will see long building?"

I kept quiet then he said: "Don't worry the great Kasai is coming. The night can be longer but the day will always come."

I could see from far that the city wasn't really built. I understood the taxi driver and many people anger and unhappiness. I could see from far a big house like a big boat in water exploiting diamond.

It was just around 2 hours in the afternoon that we arrived in Mbuji Mayi. When we approach. I got more shock, the city has very few paved road. The houses were mixed build: big houses and small claw houses next.
I saw another camp of people who were chased in Katanga. The pro governmental militia group JUFERI did well their job. They managed to clean up many towns in Katanga the unwanted Kasaien. It looks like in all the big town of that province, they were refugee camps.

The only think that I could see the city has no big enterprise like in Katanga. The only big company was Miba with like 5 000 employee. Miba in fact is the company that exploit diamond.

I had a choice here to live with my paternal family and my maternal relatives too. But I hoped this time to live with my paternal family. I had plenty of affection with my maternal family because having spend most of my life with them. But here I opted to stick to the traditional rules; paternal family was most respected and important to the maternal family. They had the last words for the children.

The employment here was quiet high and many people were self employed. But even many people were self employed the circulation of money was quiet high compare to many Congolese towns.

To dig diamond wasn't a crime here. Many people were making living by digging diamond and other were buying the diamond from digger and selling them to other businessmen.

But diamond is expensive because it rare. Everybody dig hoping to get big stones but only few get the big and shining stones. Many waste their time and effort just to get the cheaper one, the black stones.

It why money wasn't really a big matter here. You could see many business opportunities compare to many towns in Congo. A town of a real better future only if businesses could take advantage of the none existing services in the town.

We arrived at uncle's home at around quarter to tree in the afternoon. His children who were around come to welcome him. I remember sitting in his living room when his wife asked him: "Who is this young man?"

He didn't answer to that question first. Then his wife asked him gain. Then he responded: "mwana wetu"
Meaning it is not child. I laughed to my self and I said those polygamous knows how to treat and answer their wife. It looks like their wife do not have the right to know their other children. For them children are not big things. They have many children. I am sure that they don't know some of them. It is not a shock to them to see a son who is big and don't regret the time their have lost in being far from that child.

You don't expect a child who did grow with you to have an affection to you.

He calmly answered his wife: �is our child"
Then her wife asked him. It is your son or your brother's son? He answered: "Joseph". Joseph is my father's Christian name. Then she immediately commented: " This one is quite. Is not that tall"

Uncle responded: �He looks like her mother" My mother Mutoka who was working on television and radio was very popular and many people knew her face. Especially when visiting Lubumbabshi.
I heard quick fun listening to this conversion. Then after like thirty minutes. A saw a young woman calling me outside.

When I went outside she told me her name was Nana Muamba the first born of uncle Muamba and wanted me to accompany her to the shop.
It was amazing just few hours of my arrival. The cousins acted like if they knew me long time ago. She kept telling all the people that we met on our way that I was his brother.

People weren't amazed. In this polygamous city it was just normal to meet each time new brothers and sisters. It was the culture there. People here were very much stick to the traditional culture.

Few hours later I met many cousins. My biggest relieve it when I met Kashika. I still remember her. We used to play with her in Lubumbashi. She was also one of my cousins.

I arrived in a very good time when the electricity was on. After two days the electricity was gone. I asked when the electricity will come back. They told me may be next weekend or next months.

Here electricity wasn't regular. It used to come once a week or may be once in two months. The reason is that the electric central belonged to the diamond company Miba and the electrical power wasn't good enough to aliment regularly the city.

The diamond famous city didn't even have electricity. I went after tree days to visit the refugee. It was a small camp was many people from Katanga lived. They parents or grand parent left the province long ago even one century ago.
The city was not reflecting what he was famous of. No infrastructure at all. Some people were very rich while other people very poor. They were no many jobs in the city. I was shocked to see some people selling water to drink packed in small plastic. But there was a big difference between Katangese of Kasaien. Kasaien in Mbuji were very happy. But my worry where was going all those diamond's production.
At that time we learnt many time from the foreign press that Mobutu was one of the richer man in Africa. His income and spending was even more than what the entire country uses.

As a new comer all the family's member were inviting me and cooking for me the traditional chicken with the spices and other food. I couldn't bear to be invited some time tree places a day. I was even forced the food vomiting. Because once you don't respond to the invitation and don't eat everybody get angry.
Only the diamond company Miba had a small electric central for the company. Few people took advantage but the majority of the city was in the dark. I remember what my mother told me that Kasai wasn't colonized, Disashi make difficult for them to colonize the people but what the colonist succeeded is to control the diamond. Human's life wasn't important than the natural resources.
It is here that I witness the theory of the richer getting richer and poor more poor. Minority of people were quiet rich and the majority very poor in the land rich with natural resources but no infrastructure too.

I understand beside many people fled witchcraft, many went to more developed land because of the infrastructure. They left Kasai for better modern life in the neighboring province Katanga.
They become refugee in their own land and many countries in the world.

My mother's father fled when he argued with his neighbour for what his grand father did before turning to a hero in Kasai, the slave trade.

Many returnees didn't even know their ancestor village. People were good here helping each other. They did their best and the refugees were quickly integrating the community joining the local population to dig traditionally the industrial and jewelry diamond.

The Roman Catholic Church wasn't that big like in Katanga. I was curious too about witch craft. Here people weren't that much shy to claim that some of them were witches. I don't know if really they were telling me the truth or not.

I started hanging around with my females� cousin: Nana Muamba, another Nana Kaja, Kashika, the late Elis�e Muamba and male cousin like Tambala and Kabanga Muamba.

Then one day I asked Nana Muamba while standing outside the yard: "I have been in this diamond for one week. I haven't even see a diamond"
She said: �diamond? Wait you will see now."

I wondered how will I see the diamond now? Far from where the surrounding city where they dig diamond.

Then a moment later, she called another man who was passing on street. Then man come to us and she told him. Show my brother the diamond. Just like that.

I said to myself the young woman his just playing. How she knows that this man has diamond with him.

The man without hesitation. Put his hand in the pocket and pull out a white paper. Then opened the paper and shown me a lot of small stones. Then after showing me the small stones he told me in choosing tree more whiter stones: "all those aren't much important to me. It has a very low market value. My heart is in those whiter stones."

I laughed for a while. Diamond wasn't a big mystery here. Many people used to come and buy diamond here and there. His business was to go to the diggers buy the stones and sell them in the same city at the double price.

The shock of my life is when I went with female cousin Kashika in the diamond market. I saw many motorbikes outside the market. Then we got inside. We found many tables where they put money on the table mostly. The Zaire money and American dollar. No one was stealing the money.

I asked Kashika why those people put plenty of money on the table? she told me to attract the diamond digger. The digger goes to sell the diamond to those people who have a lot of attracting money on the table.

The rich diamond traders were not putting the money into the bank because the banks were not existing in the province. And also they had no trust of the bank. Many dictators and people who had money in the bank overseas never recovered the money. And they were also motivated by a story of a bank trader called Fontshi who lost about 30 millions dollar he hide in the bank overseas. Before he died he tried to get back the money but the banks didn't want to give him. He end up getting a shock and get made, a man who believed had more than 10 airplanes.
They says that the bank do not hesitate to take the money but do not give you easily your big money.
I was amazed why, on the notice time at the radio �people were looking for they wallet when they loose it. They were saying on the radio like. �I have given the man who stole my wallet until 2 next day. If he does return it. He knows what will happen to him. Or I will sent him a rain lighting�
They were some strange lighting, even when there is no rain and killing people. Here people were much more open about they belief in witchcraft and superstition. People could easily talk about being witches�
The only way to easily survive here was to never commit a bad thing to a neighbour that was a protection to witchcraft and superstition.
With the inflation of the Congolese money, they used more dollar than the Money of Zaire called Zaire too. Even old mother in this province knew the rate of the American dollar everyday.

It was the work of many people. But the biggest advises was that don't try to take chances with diamond if you don't know it. Many people loose their money too and many make a huge profit but you must know it better. Many combined the diamond businesses with other businesses.
The digger weren't that rich compare to the buyer who sells the stones others places.

The diamond company Miba with the engine was able to get the expensive stones going digging deep while the digger get only the few stones on top of the soul, I mean some meters under the soul only.

Many people here didn't go to expertise school for diamond but know the value of those stones better than money expect.

The motorcycle especially Yamaha 100 where the number one transport vehicle here. Followed by the 4 by 4. The road were just impracticable for luxury cars.

The building material where quiet expensive here but people where building. Everything where exported.
Before this province was the first agriculture producer in Congo until the explosion of diamond. Everybody or many people left the agriculture business for diamond. Mbuji Mayi apparently grow very fast, taking the fact that it was formed in 1960, after many tribal fight after the independence of Congo in 1960, many people left the big cities and relocated in Mbuji Mayi. Even my grand father left Kananga for Mbiji Mayi before heading for Katanga.

Here many people didn't know how to save money. Especially the uneducated diggers. They lived like if tomorrow will never come. When they get an expensive stone they sell it get money and spend it in the same day.

They buy expensive cars without caring about the house. Many clothes�Then the next days the money is finish and their go back to dig the mysterious stones. Selling very cheap all the things they bought. Many time the chance do not come twice.
I was also amazed of the advert on the radio station and television in Kasai. The diamond buyer were advertising they agency so the diamond digger may sell the diamond to them. They were advertising how they had plenty of money and were able to buy big stones. On television, they will show those diamond dealers with plenty of American dollar.
It is where the difference with people from Katanga and the local people where. They used to different the coming Kasaien of Katanga and the local people in calling those from Katanga: "Bena Katanga" meaning people from Katanga.

Some where blaming the Diaspora for leaving the province saying that: "they run away from us witches now they return. We will eat them very well now they returned in our magic witch craft"

It wasn't so alarming because it was the local jokes.
People from the Diaspora had the knowledge of saving money. With the little money they got. They were doing big things.

Here many people were not that educated and wanted to talk only their dialect. Even in the school the local dialect was more important than French. In Katanga French in the school was the most spoken language. I was impressing with those people because they gave the native language a lot value than French.
I remember that even my parents raise us talking French than our native language. I have to rebel my self when I was about 12 years to start trying to talk the African dialects with friends but in family we keep talking French. The only people who were talking dialect in family where the grand parents. They used to talk to us in dialect and we respond in French. But when I started rebelling, I started trying to respond too in dialects.

When I arrived in Kasai. They talked to me in French the first day only then the following days. They all started talking to me in the local dialect. They knew very well French but wanted to talk to me in the dialect of ancestors.

I helped some matrix students in mathematics. It happens that when I arrived in this province the teachers were on strike too. All the students where asking me question in the local dialect. I struggle for the few months to catch the rhythm. I was having fun spend Saturday helping the student even thought they were older than me for free but some studentes used to give me something to encourage me.

In town the teachers were quiets big because they used to go to universities. But in the rural area most of student become teacher after getting matric. Few people from town were accepting to leave the cities and go to work in the rural areas. So they hire the people who were newly matriculated after grade 12. If you were good in math you become a math teacher. If you were good in Chemistry you become a chemistry teacher.
And they were doing well too, they were just freshly graduated from high school and knew most of the lesson and they were easily teaching. Sometime those who leave the high school go for many years at universities when they want to teach, they have forgot most of the lessons. It wasn't really a big difference in the teaching of the university teachers and the people who has just graduated.
The only people who were quiet old were principal, few teachers and the administration official.
It is why in Manono and rural areas the students from grade 11, 12 and the teachers were in the same generations. Sometime some teachers were even younger.

Many people were saying that: "French wasn't money". Mbuji Mayi despite the poor infrastructure was quiet a big town. Even bigger than Lubumbashi. It was growing very fast with the arrival of the refugee from Lubumbashi. It used to be a small town. A new town. The last figure is that the city has close to 3 millions people but without big enterprises and good infrastructure it what makes this city full of businesses opportunities.

Some people were extremely rich here. Real rich and had quiet nice houses. Some where struggling but it looks like they could have nice house but lived much better than many people from the rest of the country.

Then when I reached Kasai my father who was based in Kinshasa closed down many pharmacies in the rest of the country keeping only the one in Kinshasa and Mbuji Mayi. The major fall down was to compete with the cheap pharmaceutical product from Asia. They were much cheaper than his.

All the family member in Lubumbashi (Katanga) were decided to come in their ancestor's land. I wrote a letter to my mother were I told her not to come here. I knew her very well. She could come and do diamond. She loved her profession, she only wanted to be a journalist but with the poor infrastructure here I knew that she couldn�t manage to write TV and Radio programs in the dark without electricity.

I told her that it was better for her to make a plan to go to the capital city of Congo Kinshasa instead of coming in this land.
And while I was in Mbuji Mayi I went to see the city archbishop Tshibangu to be admitted to the grand seminary in this land.

My demand was quick accepted. Still I was thinking of returning to Lubumbashi to study but the trouble wasn't over yet. The third city of Lubumbashi had also a clean up while I was in Kasai. The leader in Katanga after cleaning the rural area of Kasaien where calling the originary to clean also the big city Lubumbashi.

I remember Kyungu saying that we have clean up the bedroom but now we have to clean up the living room, Lubumbashi. Even in Kasai many people were still worrying about their relatives who were still in Lubumbashi.

The JUFERI from the rural area where taken to Kolwezi by train to chase the Kasaien. Join by the local fighters they started their operation. It wasn't only there while the rural area kept clean up the Kasaien too. In Ktanga Lubumbashi was the biggest city follow by Likasi the second city where the ethnic cleaning started then Kolwezi was the third city.
I don't have an idea witch number was Manono. I am sure it was among the 6 biggest city in Katanga.
Katanga was formerly called Shaba.

And many people in the province too kept volunteering returning to their ancestors land. I had an uncle in Kolwezi working as a miner and we didn't know what had happen to him.

I decided after one month in the town. To visit my mother�s village. It was the nearest village of Mbuji Mayi. I won't really call it another village it just an area of Mbuji Mayi called Tshilenge.

There are the originally people of Mbuji Mayi. They tribe is called the Bakuanga. Even the diamond company is called the MIneral company of BAkuanga in short: MIBA.

I took just one transport and in less than thirty minutes I was in Tshilenge. I went to see my mother's cousin who was the village chief there.
The good news for the maternal family�s is that most of the people who once challenged the family�s of being the offspring of a slave trade were dead or changed their mind after many years.
Then first shock I met my veterinary uncle Charles Kangodia Disashi already in the city. He was chased too and took directly the train here. I lived with him when I was young for some years and enjoyed the rural life in farm. He was a very courage man quick joined the local people and was digging too diamond. Digging was really for uneducated people job but my uncle forgot about the education and experience he had. He joined what mostly people were doing. He has lost all his belonging and had no capital to do anything. While I was talking to him I saw my some of my uncle who were teaching me karate: another Muamba Disashi. Muamba was just one of the popular names in Kasai like Ngoy was the most popular name in Katanga. Then my prototype, we share the same name Disashi. He was often called Dicho or Dish.

It was just a big reunion again to meet in less than a month in the ancestor's land. We all worried about our uncle miner who was in Kolwezi, Mukala. Dicho ( the uncle) Disashi meant Dicho. He was called too Disashi even wept worrying about his brother. I could see the love that he had for the family.

Few minutes later come the village chief. He was called Muamba Tshimpuki, a tall and very authorial man. Wearing a big hat. He was happy to see me. Saying that he was caring me when I was a baby in Lubumbashi. But I don't remember him.

Then he immediately told me: "you have arrived a very bad time. I had a big stones five months ago. I sold it and made a four months party."

I said that this man was joking. Then a neighbour confirmed: "yes, the chief mad a party for 4 months. We were drinking days and night for free at his house. Ask everybody. The only souvenir left of that good affair is the brand new four by four car he bought"

I look at his house from where we were sitting and saw a jeep in one of his yard. He had also many wives like most of the people here.
While talking we saw a group of people dancing and chanting. They have just got an expensive stones. Strange, woman caring a battery on his head and another man caring a big radio cassette with loud sound.

It was the way some people were celebrating when they got a big or expensive stones.

I kept concentrating in looking the village chief who had a 4 months party. The city has no bank and people were keeping their money in their bedrooms.

The stealing where just to low. When you hear the announcement on the local radio station. You will hear people looking for their lost wallets and their diamond pack. And straight warning the robber to return it in giving him a deadline or face the consequences of witchcraft.

Then while talking after the groups of dancers come another man with a truck of money with two hired soldiers to look after his money walking on street with tree cell phones. Cell phone was a fortune in 1992-1993. I don't know to whom he was talking to. He come to buy for stones.

In this village people where digging diamond behind their houses. Diamond was quit easy to get. But also dangerous. The soul was falling sometime killing the diggers in the big holes.

But people will mourn their dead friend for few days and forget and goes back to the mines. Quiet a dangerous job but people couldn't give up to dig the precious stones.

Some of the foreigners big buyers where people of Lebanon. Many of them where speaking the local dialect and had other business beside diamond such us shops.

The Lebanese where not only in Mbuji Mayi but in all the big cities in Congo. They know very well this land. Amazing in this mal infrastructure city with plenty of people and was growing very fast. The city that used to be a small village not long ago before the boom of diamond. Before the popularization of diamond this city was only a agriculture village. They were no suburb or town ship in Mbuji Mayi. Riches were neighbours to poor. The road impracticable. Four by fours cars were the suitable cars and with the motorbike. People weren't much interested of bycicles in Mbuji Mayi.

Yes, another land and another different culture what was strange to me, was just normal to many people.

The karate wasn't big here too. I was spending some afternoon training alone with few cousins neighbours joining some time. But I was also busy in the days, some time teaching extra mathematics classes to some pupils. Sometime working in my paternal pharmacies in the city. And mostly doing what I love the most: researches. It happens that the national president of researcher was based in Mbuji Mayi, Mr. Kabasele Muamba.
We were not related but Mwamba was a popular name in Kasai like Ngoy was very popular in Katanga.

Muamba was just a popular name in Kasai like Ngoy in Katanga. The president has a Beverly in the city making some whine and other activities. He loved me so much and had a plane to send me that time to Tunisia but God has another plan for me and I was still determined to be a priest.

The image of the refugee camp was still in my mind. That disaster really affected all my life. Then come a surprise. I heard while in my uncle Muamba pharmacy that another man from Kolwezi was looking for me.

When I got outside it was the man that we worrying about, Mukala who was a miner in Kolwezi. The last time I saw him was five years ago. He guesses that I was in Mbuji Mayi and my paternal uncles were all in pharmacies businesses.

He didn't know where were his brothers. We hugged each other with tear of joy. He was really destitute having lost all the things he lost after all those years of working.

I took him to my mothers village and met the others uncles. Then after like two weeks of Mukala Disashi arrival the grand father Disashi was in the town. My mother got my later and was stick to my advises making plan to go to Kinshasa. But the doctor Tshimpuki started already working in Lubumbashi and had no plans to leave the province he loved.

I visited my mother's village and I had to visit my father's village. His village was in the zone of Ngadajika. I decided to visit the main town there before visiting the ancestor's village.

I took the track and the town was next to the province where they chased us, Katanga. It was at 100 kilometers from Mbuji Mayi but we used a different road to the train's station road Muene Ditu. The road was unpaved but we traveled in the track for 6 hours to reach this town Ngadajika.

When you ask my paternal uncle their real origin they said they are from the zone of Ngadajika then they add from the village of Kalambayi. It reminded me of Kalambayi Kashama the radiographer in Manono.
This was Kalambayi the village not the person. Many people had names similar to villages.

In my mind I decided to see first Ngadajika before preceding to the last area's name.
They were no diamond here. And everybody lived on agriculture farming maize and other agriculture product.

No electricity at all in this town but it was quiet big like Manono or even bigger. The biggest company was a cotton company but it went bankrupt and only building were the souvenir of the defunct company.

The dialect spoken here was very similar to the one spoken in Katanga. I met many Katangese here who were living in peace. The people refused to revenge. I am very thankful to the people of Ngadajika. They refused to be manipulated by the politician.

Here I met all the tree wife of my paternal grand father. They were all alive and call each others sisters. I was unfortunately to see the grand paternal grand father he died in 1987. The grand paternal had some 24 children. And my father Joseph Ilunga kabuyi was the first born of this big family.

Joseph Ilunga Kabuyi was also an elected parliamentary in this area. It was in the early 1993 that I traveled to this part of the world.
After two days of my stay here I went to see the priest of the Roman Catholic Church here. Father Kasongo. He confirmed that he would like me too to go in the big seminary for his diocese.

My place was just confirmed waiting for the result of matrix exams. In Lubumbashi I head a place in grand seminary. In Mbuji Mayi then in Ngadajika. Tree places for one man. I had to make a choice in which grand seminary to attend.

Father Kasongo was very concern about the political situation. I remember hearing crying in one of his church service: "God we have pried for many years for the departure of the dictator Mobutu. Many people are dying in Katanga because of this man. How can we pray to be listened?"

After two weeks in this city I was waiting my time in playing soccer in team called: " Tshilobo" meaning anger. I don't know which anger and hanging around with the villagers.

During the day I could see some friend frying the dog meat. In Katanga I heard and we made mockery that people in Kasai used to eat dog. It was true that in Kasai dog was a very delicious food. But unfortunately women were not allowed to eat dog.

My cousin Nana Kaja told me one day that men in this part of the world do not want women to taste what is delicious. It why they refused to let women to eat.

It wasn't easy to cook dog. Most of the dog sometime cats were cooked by men. In Katanga people used to loose goats and chicken when some petty criminals used to rob but in Kasai they used to rob a lot the dog. I even witness that In Mbuji mayi our biggest dog was stolen.

They used to cook the dog with a lot spices. I could spend hours witnessing one of my new friend in Ngadajika called Kadima killing, frying dog and selling on the corner of our street a dog. The man begged me many time to eat the dog too but I couldn't just taste that meat. My mind and my view of the dog didn't allow me to even touch that meat. But I had big fun spending time with him.

I was attending all the morning Roman Catholic Church here. I met another man called Francois Kabuyi. He was in his middle 20's but according to the family rank he was a grand father to me. Son of the son of the brother of the grand father Kabuyi.

I could understand how a young man can be my grand father instead of grand brother. Any way I respected the family rule. And I hand around with another man called Mbuyama.

The funny things with Mbuyama is that we saw one days an attractive woman passing by. And we decided to follow her. I was talking to that woman: �You are very beautiful" and him was saying: "Since I saw you. I didn't sleep"
Then I was trying to win her heart: "You are beautiful more than the water in the river. Flowing all year long." Mbuyama added: "without you I can not live�"

Then the woman stopped. We wondered what she was about to say. She then asked: "In fact who want me between you?"
I quickly said: "me". Then Mbuyama said: "me".

The woman look at us and said.: "you are all stupid. Get out of my sight"

We all look at the woman how she dumped us. And started arguing among us: "I wanted that woman. I thought you were supporting me."

He also said the same thing: �I thought you were supporting me"
I realized that before we rushed to the woman. We didn't plan who to support his friend. And who to take the woman. I thought that Mbuyama was supporting me and him thought the same thing. We all missed that woman.

After one month in the Ngadajika. After attending the catholic service in the Catholic Church that ended before twelve. We decided to go in anther independent in the afternoon before returning home. With the young grand father Francois Kabuyi.

We saw another church and we decided to enter in the church. We entered and got a seat a the back of the church. We saw another man preaching there. We kept listening to what the man was preaching.

Then we heard another woman started screaming like a dog really bagging: "Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia,"

Then we saw the woman coming to us. She just arrived to my seat and started singing her alleluia song.
I asked Francois: "There is something wrong I did"

He said to me: "You and I don't know"
The woman kept singing turning around me: �Alleluia"

Then he told Francois: "I have to talk to your friend after the church service"

He translated to me. And I accepted to talk to the woman after the church service.

After the long service after two. The woman who was singing alleluia said to me: "you have to talk the prophet. You will be involved in a deadly accident on your way to Mbuji Mayi and you will die on the scene"

I got very afraid about what the woman said. How does the woman knew that I had to return to Mbuji Mayi?

Then we met the man that she called prophet. The man said: "you are coughing"

And it was true I was coughing that time. I wonder how he knew or he heard me coughing or it was just coincidence or I don't know what.

Then he said I don't have to return home. I have to stay with them in a fast of one week to avoid that accident. After hearing death I decided to stay in the church.

At home my grand mothers got upset and were very worried. They kept asking Francois Kabuyi who returned home what happen to me and he lied to them. I don't know what he said because I wasn't returning home before one week.

I stayed in the independent church for tree days. We were eating only soft food in that church: "the cassava". I was with few people in the fast.

They were to be graduated to prophet. I saw their exam. The alleluia singing woman was hiding some thing and asked the future priest to localize where the hidden thing was.

They were all speaking in tongues. Many were getting wrong. Sometime the alleluia woman was hiding the object in her clothes. But one was getting right. After like four tried one was declared prophet and the others fall.

Then a cousin from Mbuji Mayi, Ntambala. He decided to come and see me to my new location. He arrived outside the church and called me.

I responded to his call and went outside the church. I talked with the cousin. Then the alleluia woman followed me outside. She told me to return inside the church. I told her that it was important to talk to my cousin who has just arrived.

She wasn't happy to see me talking to my cousin. She looks at my cousin and told him: "Go away. If you don't want me to reveal your name"

Ntambala wondered what wrong he did. He responded to the alleluia woman: "I am not going away, unless you tell me my name as you said"

The woman started her alleluia song turning around Ntambala and told him after ten minutes: "Your name is Tatu Monji"

She got it wrong. And I decided immediately too to leave with my cousin Ntambala. I returned home where all the grand mothers were worried and waiting for me.

After two months in Ngadajika, I returned to Mbuji Mayi.

I got to Mbuji Mayi after one month in Mbuji Mayi in April 2003, the matrix result that took so long come out. I got the matrix certificate with on point less to get a distinction.

While my families were celebrating I wasn't that happy and wanted to restart the year to reach distinction but everybody opposed to my idea. Francois my seminary good friend got the distinction.

I was worry, I didn't know if my other friend at the petit seminary passed too, Ramy. We were doing different section.

Before my plan to join the grand seminary. I decided to visit the ancestor village, Kalambayi.

I was on the road again. The village Kalambayi wasn't really far from Ngadajika. It was next to the river Lubilaji.

I enjoyed all the one month I spend in the far away village.
Two days in the village. My cousin already gave me a woman. It was just to easy to get married here. Unfortunately their plan was to different with my plan.

The most noticeable thing here is that they were burying people behind their yard.
They could show me the tomb of paternal great grand ancestors in their formers yard.

One of my uncle Philip Kaja Kabuyi had even a modern farm here. Using modern tractors and had a small own employee camp he built.
He had a wife in the village and another wife in Mbuji Mayi where he was selling is farming product.

The only big thing I did here was to build a house. It was quiet a physical job but I enjoyed to build and leave a house here. The house belonged to the man who took me from Lubumbashi, Muamba.

He had a house in Mbuji Mayi, Ngadajika and decided to make a house to Kalambayi. I was happy and proud to contribute to the construction of the house.

I enjoyed spending time by the river where I could meet many people. Everybody here knew each other and the village was small. I think no more than 5 000 peoples.

I was quiet astonished that here witchcraft was not something to hide, it wasn�t that secret. I met many people and even children who confess how there are witches. It was just a normal thing. I even met many men insulting their wives as witches�
The main activity was purely agriculture. Then I decided to return to Mbuji Mayi to pursue my dream career to be a priest sadly living the women they have given me on the disappointment of the woman, her family and my large family too.

In September 1993, after endless meditation. I decided to study at grand seminary of Mbuji Mayi. I took my belonging and decided to leave everything.

I got in the seminary classes. I saw the first priest father Pierre or Peter in English who was introducing the yearly course and the length of our training. I look at all the 14 classmates everybody was excited to be in that room. The entire morning instead of being excited I was sad.

Then image of the refugee I saw in Likasi, the image of Manono escaped death starting running in my mind. I missed Katanga the same time. Then I started realizing that I won't be a 100% priest to bless everybody but I will be a priest of just one class: people of Kasai instead of being priest of everybody. I refused classes in my mind. I don't know how to tragedy memories keep coming. The scene of Katanga keep coming in my dream even after many months and years.

Few minutes later, I got headache. I loved this profession but I had to live with the guilt in my mind for the rest of my life. Then, I walk out of the priest�s classroom. I hold the wall, I cried. And I said to myself: "I cannot live with this guilt for the rest of my life. I am just to weak for it"

Pierre the priest who was teaching me, followed me outside. I told him: "father, I have to loose this dream"

He knew where I was from. He comforted me and said;" I know that it is not easy for you. To be a priest in a land that you haven't though of"

Then I left the grand seminary while the priest and the future priest look at me. I saw my dream being emotionally short down. The reality of life made me loose my dream when I could have saved it. Unbelievable the dreams of wearing a priest catholic rob was vanishing. I don't know because no one chased me in that school but I felt guilty and saw the injustice of making my becoming priest in another place. Katanga, Lubumbashi and Manono were always in priority. My skin and my parent�s origin become a condemnation of my destiny. I couldn't take it to live for a life to be a member of a certain class only. I realize how my heart refused of different classes.
�I didn�t really wants to see classes and people being classified� I could never forgive myself of supporting classes.

I realize that I should have gone for trauma counseling because those sad memory still coming in my mind for the next 10 years. May be if I went for counseling I could have got to term with the sad memory and continue my dream of being a priest.
But the counseling practices were not existent in the most part of the country. In fact I only hear counseling practices in outside Congo. I never knew or realize that there was a profession of counseling. I never imagine that emotion could need a special care. At that time I never heard of that word of trauma counseling.

I went straight in Mbuji Mayi in my room and locked the room for too days. I was morning my dream that I have to let go. They was a time even when my paternal uncle Muamba who brought me in the paternal family knocked the room, I refused to answer.

He went to call my maternal uncles who were closed to me because I grew up with them. They come knocking at the room. I refused to answer. When they wanted to forced the door and breaks the door. I told them not to do so, I am alive and I will come out when I am ready.

I accepted that it was over; I have to let it go. I wanted to be a priest in Manono.
I got out after two days people were even scared to approach me wondering what was wrong with me. I told them that I was fine; I am not going to dream anymore of wearing a priest dress.

For them they were just happy that I let this dream go. But for me I have to live with this pain for the rest of my life. My favorite city and people has just been taken away for me.

One week after getting out of the grand seminary, I turned to drink. I started drinking like a hell. I was working with the president of the searchers Kabasele Muamba. After my work, after 5 I was visiting the night clubs. I was a shock to the family; I wasn't even at the age of enjoying that freedom.
I noticed in Kasai that there was no infrastructure at all despite the reputation of diamond. Few hospitals, no roads, the big part of the population has no electricity, few school, no commune facilities�Most of the people were living in misery. Very few companies existed there. Even those digging the precious stones not all the people managed to get the big and white stones. Only few people managed to grabs some. Not everybody was involved in the diamond businesses.
The few diamond traders were much richer than the diggers.

I kept returning home later�It was important that I get far from all those event for a while. While my president of researchers Kabasele was planning to send me in Tunisia or other far away country. Come my father's call from Kinshasa that I have to leave Mbuji Mayi go to Kinshasa where I will catch my plan to South Africa.
My paternal family members were mostly in the pharmaceutical business.
I accepted my father Joseph's call to fly to South Africa. He tried hard in sending me in USA but he fail to obtain a visas for me. My main reason was to take the opportunity to see my maternal big brother George and sister Mamy. Who were already in South Africa.
Mamy was a very popular name for the women in Congo. In fact it means Mom, most of the children names after they parent names were called Momy for women and Papy for man.

I never see them except on picture. Because they were taken at the young age. I had to replace them in my mother's house as the first born.

It was sad to leave even the ancestors land. But it was important that I leave the country to restart my life another way. I took advantage of this opportunity. My cousins who become my best friend missed me but I was decided to pursue another life.
The good news is that my maternal uncle Charles Kangodia Disashi after struggling in digging the diamond. Most of the people weren't lucky enough to get big stones and expensive one, his company for which he was working for called Grelka in Katanga find that they were many opportunities to sell cows in Kasai than Katanga because of the demand decided to open a representation in Kasai. And out of many veterinary chassed in Katanga, they chose him as the representing of the company. He was promoted and in the few months I was there the business were doing well.
With Charles stability it helps my maternal family too in Kasai.
October 1993, I took a plane to Kinshasa, the capital of Congo a big town of about six millions peoples. Mixed with the modern life and different people of all culture. The airport of the popular city Mbuji Mayi the world capital of diamond and witchcraft was terrible. It used to be the private diamond company airport MIBA that everybody uses.
Like the infrastructure of this popular city, it was just terrible on the standard and reputation of the city. The question to be answer is that where were going the money from diamond that beautiful woman wore? For all those years that the land have been exploited? Why to exploit this mineral while the people citizen do not benefit of it?
The airport was situated just in the middle of the city. A very small one with many old aircraft scraped around. I couldn't believe that I was in a airport because he look like a private house.
Those diamond dealers were obsessed of big things. Every rich man wanted to owe an airplane. They were competing not buy cars but by number of airplanes.

In the small plane of less than 50 peoples we took. It was full of diamond traders. They travel everyday the 1000 kilometers. They were no really road relying the big cities in Congo. The bridge were damaged and the road inaccessible. Most of the plane in unworthily condition in Europe and especially the Russian plane were used in the underprivileged continent. They attitude weren't that good. Asking the hostess to give them beer. Touching the hostesses bump. The hostesses were used to those kinds of people but one was resisting. One of the diamond traders insulted her: "useless woman. Who you think you are? I 'have got money and I can marry you right away. I have six wives and some of them very beautiful that you"

But here everybody was like businesses man. When the plane from Mbuji Mayi landed all the people in the big and modern airport were alerted that the plan from the diamond city has just landed. The rich men, the diamond trader has arrived. The unpaid personal of the airport, soldier and everybody wanted to get a peace of diamond: money.

Corruption was normal. The immigration official will ask you all the paper that you have and don't have jut to get something: the will ask you the identity document, drive license, trade license, certificate of baptism to death certificate of your parent just to make you pay.

Everybody knew the system and everybody at each stop had to give some money to freely go through.

While trying to make my way out. People throwing strange stuff on our shoes and wanting to clean and brush our shoes for money. I told my neighbours in the plane seat who used to travel every two days to the capital city to sell his diamond: �There are many people here and soldiers. It looks like the security his tied here"

I taught all the main in uniform where looking after people but they were there to loot the passengers.
He laughed and said: �young man there is no security all the man in uniforms and different civilians here just want money"

After a huge fight with many kind of officials in the airport. I got my way out of the plane. I took a deep breath. Inside of the airport many official were asking different kind of paper. My seat neighbour knew them already, leaving at each and every stop some money. He told me to stick with him so I will look like if I was with him.

At one stage, I saw another diamond dealer who was in the plan because he resisted to give them money or give little money was being stripped. About 5 soldiers were checking is close. I could hear one of the soldier saying: �show us even the shoes, you may have a bomb in your shoes." I am sure he was a first time traveler.

Some of the people have to Swallow the important stones of diamond in their stomach for fear that they may loose it. Later when they arrived at home or hotel, they had to eat bananas and fruit to help them to go to the toilet. Unfortunately they had to do the toilet like small children in a pot. Then searching in the smelling shit their valuable diamond.

My seat neighbour knew the system in the airport; he used to travel every two days between Kinshasa and Mbuji Mayi a 1000 kilometers. The only time he used to rest it was when he was overseas. Diamond was just a huge business and long business. Many were digging selling in the market in Mbuji Mayi and some where buying from the diggers in Mbuji mayi and all the surrounding village sell to Mbuji Mayi into the market or well know diamond dealer. Another group used to take the diamond to Kinshasa after buying it in Mbuji Mayi then in Kinshasa the buyer takes the stones overseas. It was a long chain.
Many diamond dealers had many wives, in Kinshasa, Mbuji mayi and others places.

It took the advantage sticking on him like if we were traveling together. It wasn't easy to get out of the airport without spending some money. The ask you all the document possible that you can't have. Opening and searching your bag like if you were a terrorist.
I could see the diamond dealer leaving money to all the stops and freely passing all the barriers. Some of the official knew him and some where chatting to him: �Friend, Boss..." Some where thanking him.
Before we left the over crowd airport he told me: " Young brother, money is the key of the world: key to women, key to law and key to everything"

I realized that in less than 5 minutes we were out of the airports. I didn't even show any document. The only document I had was my premature Identity that allowed me to write the Matric exam. I wasn't qualified to have an identity document but all the matrix writer had to have the identity it why the priest in Manono got me the identity document.

It is the only way they were making money. Most of those officials couldn't even get paid. Even if they have to get their salaries it was just not enough even for their own transport.

I waited outside the troubled airport for about 30 minutes then I saw my father's car. It was a little war zone inside the airport really: plenty of people, endless officials, endless demand and businessmen too there. Those who wanted to clean your shoes for money sometime they throw duty stuff on your shoes and tell you that your shoes are duty need to be clean. People selling different product here and there. Those who were marketing inside the airport and others were selling official papers. Military and soldiers plus police officer in that same place.

This was the consequence of not paying people or underpay them. The human always find their way out of the misery.

Really it was like a market place full of different people. If it was difficult for citizen to get ride of those barriers, I imagine how it could be difficult for foreigners in that airport at that time.

Thank you to this unknown man who made my life easy.

They come to fetch me. It was an historical moment in my life. To spend some time with my father. My father knew the airport and rushed inside the airport to fetch me from the trouble but was amazed to see me outside. He was not going to pay anything or bribe but use his position as a minister that time to let me pass all the barriers.

I knew him, especially when I was in Lubumbashi we used to see each other after like 6 months when he used to visit Lubumbashi. It was easy to identify him. The only time I didn't see him much it was when I went to the seminary. When he was in Lubumbashi I was at 800 kilometers away in Manono and only come in Lubumbashi once a year. I didn't have a chance to meet him when I am in Lubumbashi for 4 years a spend in seminary.
Him who was based in Kinshasa travelling a lot to Kasai and other places.

The first thing he said to me was after we greeted each other: " I am sorry for what happen to you in Katanga."
Then we anger he said: �Our area Ngadajika in the past was part of Katanga. Now they are chasing us as goat"

Surely he had the sad stories of Katanga. Everybody was affected. Many people Kasaien chased in Katanga come to Kinshasa too and many went abroad. Beside my father businesses, he was that time too a Congolese minister of small enterprise and trade. At this disturbing political period every two months they used to be another government.

The economy of Katanga was slowly going down. Gecamines already closed many mines and it wasn't the same province that everybody was proud of. In Kinshasa the dictator Mobutu didn't want to step down.

He even fled the capital city because it was predominated by the opposition supporters. He went to live in his home town Gbado but was still the president of the republic in deterioration.

Kinshasa was the proud of the colonist Belgians. They really build the city but the only problem was the city was quiet duty. No dustbins mechanism�And the mosquitoes took advantage of the situation to ravage the city.

Yes, there were mosquitoes in all Congolese cities but Kinshasa was just the capitol of the country and capitol of mosquitoes. I haven't seen a place where the mosquitoes were biting like in this big city. The 5 millions big city almost five times Lubumbashi when it was the second biggest city in Congo.

The city had many enterprises and many unemployed people too.
Music was very popular here. Thousand of Rumba group were based in this city. The good news that the city with relied to many cities of the world by the air transport. It was easy to travel to many parts of the world from here.

I stayed in the capital city for some time and had a chance to visit many relatives here. The African families are very big and the relatives don't really end.

Then my cousin Melanie Mbaya and brother Lobo Ilunga. Let be precise, Melanie is my cousin the daughter of my uncle Mbaya. The one who just come after my father Joseph. Lobo is my brother one of my father's son.

They preceded me in South Africa and one week later the 28 October 1993 I was in South Africa.

PART TWO: LIFE IN SOUTH AFRICA
I remembered when Melanie come to fetch me at the airport called Jan Smith now called Johannesburg international airport. We were in a taxi on our way to central Johannesburg, Lobo told me: �you see that round building. It where we are going"

That building was called Ponte City. One of the tallest building in Africa. Then the building was much clean and the service was just impeccable. It has it own shopping center under. Everything where just there. You could leave in that building not even thinking of going anywhere. Some churches, night club and nursing school existed to in that building.

It was known as the foreigner had quarter that time. If you want to meet country man boy. You could have stayed at the building entrance and meet people you knew.

After one week in South Africa. I started looking for my mother's children George Mputu Mukuna and Mamy Mukuna. Mamy is a popular Congolese name for women. Every places in Congo you will found that name.

I decided to concentrate more on George because he was a male and I had really a feeling that it could be easy to find him.
I kept asking people around especially people from Congo then called Zaire if they know a man called George.

I kept asking for another week without getting an answer. Then in those days I met another man from Senegal, Mamadou. He gave me his address and I went to visit him the following days.

He was very kind. And told me that he visited Congo too and lived there for two years. Then I told him the story that I was looking for my big brother George. Then he said to that he can help me to. He was here long ago and knew many Congolese.

He kept pointing each Congolese he saw coming or leaving is building. His building name was Witberg. After pointing more than 10 Congolese. He pointed another man called Aim�, discouraged after many negative answer I went to talk to this man. When I told him the name of the person I was looking for.

I saw the man talking a pen and paper then without saying a word wrote the address of George Mputu. It was getting dark that time and I decided to go to that address the following day.

I wake up early in the morning. Took the peace of paper with the address and I went in the area called Hillbrow to search for my big brother.

I followed the instructions until I reached the building called: Noverna court. I went to the room 306. I find a man locking the door of that flat. I then greet him and started detailing my reason of coming there: "I am looking for my brother called George Mputu�"

The man who was locking the door told me: "I am George the man you are looking for"
I refused to accept first that it was the man I wanted to see. May be I was just to shock and could believe after searching him for two weeks.

May be the coincidence where just to good to be true. I said: "no"
He then looks at me. And I look at him for a while. I realize that it was the George that I was looking for. The difference is that he had bears now.

Him to realize that I was the man that he saw in many photos. Then we hugged. He was on his way to school and he promised me to visit me where we were staying.

I immediately accompanied him to the college where he was studying. I wasn't alone anymore in this country I had reliable people to guide me in the land far from Congo.

It was the time where the political negotiation where about to determine the future of the country. Times were many hoped for a better South Africa and many where scared of the coming war.

The big difference with Congo is that there was a law here and in Congo thing was just uncontrollable.
Before the war or even the coming of Kabila because of the political instability already South Africa could assist and give refugee document to many Congolese who were seeking refuge.

George couldn't believe to what happen early in the morning. Most of the brothers and sister from the same mothers are very close. We grow up differently. Me and my 5 young sister and brothers in Lubumbashi and him and Mamy grow up in Kinshasa.

Never meet but we only had chance to see each other's photos.
I couldn't even recognized him when I saw him. George eventually comes in the afternoon where we were living in Ponte City.

We seat and chart of everything and sleep over. He told me that Mamy his based in Pretoria and will come the following week.

The following week, Mamy come to see me. She was studying in one of the college in Pretoria. She was a very quiet woman. One of the quiet people I haven't see in the world. She slept to over to my place. She forced her self to be open to me and chart.

In Congo, my mother followed my advice and moved with my young brothers and sisters to Kinshasa. If my traveling to South Africa was delayed little bit I could have see them in Kinshasa.

Unbelievable but true my dream to be a priest was just gone because of emotions. I decided to focus on others things now. I decided to start looking for a school for next year. We were just to late to have places in many colleges in town.

I remembered that I was always a man of writing. I used to write many letters before the emails become popular and accessible. I had many correspondents overseas and at home.

The only way to get in touch was to write letters and sometime to make phones calls. I entered the South Africa post office for the first time after one month in South Africa.

Not only I was still learning English but I was also learning the new culture and life in South Africa. I entered the post office saw many people on a queue. I didn't even know the meaning of the queue. I just jump everybody and went straight to the counter.

Behind me, I heard people screaming. I didn't know what was wrong. I tried to talk to the woman to the counter telling her that I was willing to buy postal stamps.

The woman looks at me strangely and told me I don't see the queue. I realize my mal doing and immediately apologize but she wasn't impress. I went to the back of the astonished. In Congo that time queue were not existing.

We were used to rush and fight to be served. Especially when you want to catch the buses. It was always scandal, before even the driver stop the bus. People get in the bus by the window and at the door everybody rush to enter. Pity for children and pregnant woman and old people.

I realize that this system was very practical. I wondered why in a country this simple rule do not exist? It was criminal. For the entire days I kept wondering how the country could be disorganize until this point?

Queue were not existing. Every where even in the hospital. The rule of the first come first serve was not existing. But the rule of the strongest, the faster was applied every where. I thought for a long time that if we heard to think about development we had to start by this rule.

It why corruption has become a normal thing. We were use to pay for each service. On top of that with the meager (small) and irregular salary corruption become normal. For each favor and service you have to pay.

Then we moved at the end of November in a suburb called Yeoville. I was in touch with George all the two days. Not only he was a big brother, he was quickly coming my friend too. Everything he did I knew and everything I was doing he was really aware of that.

I could see the difference between a media controlled by the government and the one by a democratic institution. We were not seeing or hear on television or radio the generic where the head of the state must give a message. All the news was not starting by the news of the president and was much shorter. We were not hearing the repeating of the president message.

The media and the people could really freely talk and even criticize the government policies. We were seeing the generals and the politician walking with heavy arms and many soldiers for protection.

In Congo, on the president's passage the road must be closed. A man on a motorcycle called: "eclaireur" would announce the arrival of the president and will urge every car to leave a big space for the president passage.

Then many cars full of military personnel will accompany the president car plus heavy guns and heavy military cars. We didn't see some general children accompanied by body guard at school.

I didn't hear of holidays when the president had to talk to the nation. Or holiday for the president birthday. I didn't see a statue of the head of state in town. They were no holidays when a politician visited the city.

I didn't see the face of the president of the country in the money's notes. It was just two different world.

In middle November, I decided to publish some of my writing. All my writing weren't taped on the machine. I only wrote them with hand on the paper and they were in French.

I decided because they were in French to contact the French consulate to get advice how I will publish some of the short stories. I went to the French consulate to ask for advises. When I arrived there I find a Congolese working there.

He told me that because I was living now in a English speaking country I should try to translate my short stories in English. I didn't take those advices seriously.

I tried when I was in Congo to publish my short stories but it was also very complicated. The computers weren't that much popular even the writing machine. One of my friends Vincent Nzuzi tried to write some of my writing on the machine still I didn't manage to publish them.

That time I was hanging around with Bruce and Dede. All of them were home boy from Congo. Then I met a South African friend called Abel. The first female friend I met was Ntayi, we started well hoping that we will be lovers soon.

She was visiting me and I decided to visit her one day in the notorious suburb of Johannesburg called Hillbrow. I even told her what time I was coming and we did all the arrangement.

When I went to her place after she has visited me many times. I knocked at the door and I had a woman telling me to enter. When I entered I saw a room full of smoke and I felt that may be I was at the wrong place.

I saw many people in the room; the room was full of smoke. Smoking and drinking, then I saw the woman that I was looking for Ntayi, in the arm of another man smoking too. It was my biggest mistake to visit her. I look at the man who hold Ntayi he had many scary huge scare face. Then, I kept my quiet waiting for Ntayi to come and talk to me. But she ignored me like if she ever see me.

Then people started asking me: "Can we help you?"
I look at Ntayi and she look at me. I was just a wrong place and at the wrong time. I quick responded to the people who were waiting for my answer: "My apology, I think that I am lost"

Then I left her flat never returned and she even stopped visiting me too. It was the last time that I saw her and it was also her last time to see me. It looks like she didn't want me to see that scene. I was happy that I found out who she was really before we go too far. It could have been for me difficult to deal with her once I felt in love.

Shortly after this incident, I met really what I was calling proud of the country. A group of 6 sisters called the Tshibangu: Mimi Tshibangu, Laurence Tshibangu, and others. They were much disciplined and very respectful even though some time they were struggling financially they were not even tempted to sell their bodies like many women were doing in the big city.

They become and still like really my sisters. They make me realize that prostitution and crime were not a way out or an excuse. Very dedicated Christian and hard workers.

As we were living in the building. I used to wake up early in the morning and go to the nearest park to train alone. Then I joined a karate club in Yeoville.

Then in 1994 we moved for the second time to a far away suburb called: Bedfordview Gardens. This time while living with my cousin Melanie and my brother Lobo. We were regularly receiving the money from Congo. Then the pharmaceutical business in Congo, we started feeling slowly the heat. The money we were receiving becomes irregular.

I will talk about my moving places later. I want to concentrate on this chapter later on.

The uncles in Congo even warned us that we should get an alternative way of getting money too. Like getting some peace job because the situation wasn't improving. The cheap medicine of Asia kept pouring in Congo and the government was protecting the local market.

We didn't really take seriously the warning. My motherhood brother George Mputu moved to Pretoria too. It look like I had plenty times on my side too and I started writing some poems too and songs. Before I wasn't even interested in poems. What was special about them is that I was writing short stories in French but songs and poems in English.

In the early 1994, it was before the first multi racial election in the country. The country future wasn't known. Many thought they will be a war and many people hoped for the better future. I remember that this time many people put their houses on sell. Some fled the country waiting for the elections.

It was this time while I was watching the television. I saw when the main political parties ANC (African National Congress) and NP (National party). That a man entered the meeting wall with a horse.

I remember that man called: Terre Blanche said: "many people think that it is the begging of peace but it is the begging of the war.
It was this time, I saw live a man entering in a studio live with a gun to attack a traditional prince in a interview.

It was this time we heard some sabotage. People putting bomb here and there. Really God did a wonder despite all those challenge a free and fair election was conducted in South Africa.

I was watching television in April 1994 and see many old people voting for the first time in their life standing in the long queue. It was a historical moment of South Africa. When the result of the election come out and the man who spent 27 years in jail Mandela won the elections and called for forgiveness was one of the unforgettable moments.

The war that people predicted did take place but the reconciliation took place. It took me back to Congo when I was young. I used to hear the call on radio for the liberation of Nelson Mandela. Since I was young I heard in many songs and I read in many book people calling for the end of the apartheid regime.

Then few years later, I myself witness the change that the world wanted. End of April beginning May 1994, was the inauguration of the first democratic president in this country.
I remember Lobo was very happy to witness this event and told me that he would like now to leave South Africa because he saw what he wanted.

I thought he was joking, one month later he left South Africa for Europe.
While living in Bedfordview I met this lady called Claris. She was originated from Zambia and we deeply fell in love. I really thought may be it the woman that I will marry.

Few months later, I started my studying at the college called: Damelin one of the most respected private college. Because I wanted really to study I went to do something that I didn�t like much but with time I loved that course. The course was called: MBM: Marketing Business management.

While at that college, I witness in 1995 another national party. It was when the South African rugby team won the rugby world cup organized in South Africa. Another big party of this kind was when the South African soccer team won the African cup of Nation in 1996.

End of 1995, the irregularity of money was anymore unacceptable. Melanie and I were now in a situation where we struggled to pay even rent. Not mentioning school and it was hard for us even to find ourselves jobs because we were all studying.

It was on this sad note that we judged that it was better to stop renting and live with our friends and try to save much money as possible for school. Our priority was school. Then we sold all our furniture and went on to live separately with friends.

I went to live with a family called Luboya composed of Jean Luc Luboya who was boy and friend to me, Mimi Luboya her sister and Kapy Luboya who was the big sister and big sister to all of us. This family was just to good to me. They integrated me in their family like if I was their cousin. Then shortly we were joined by their cousin Christians who come to study theology in South Africa.

He quickly becomes a mentor to me too. Kapy was just to special, she is the one who used to buy me school notes�Sometimes friends can assist you more than family people.

Beginning 1996, I had to let go Clara who went to study in another town and province Umtata. But I kept in touch with her family specially her cousin called Eleanor and Eleanor mother.

Then in Kinshasa Luboya's aunt was renting one of our house. She apparently was kicked out of the house. Luboya's family who were sending money to support my friends who were student too was unhappy of that action.

While I live with their children in South Africa but their aunt have been chased from the house. It was a very important year for me too to graduate from the college too.

My Luboya friends hide the sad news to me. We were just good to each other and it was a dilemma to tell me the drama that happened in Kinshasa Congo. Then I found the news, I don't remember how but the Luboya kept secret.

I realize that I will put them in trouble. For sure their parents weren't happy and it meant that I had to leave the house too. To avoid further troubles. I decided to leave the Luboya but I didn't have another place where to go and at least wait for the end of the academically season and join George in Pretoria.

I loved that family and I still love her. I remember that when I had to attend the college for the first time. Kapinga Luboya the big sister gave me a bag full of books. I didn�t have any book. I couldn't hold my tears when I received an expected gift.

People cared for me. But I couldn't risk them to be penalized for helping me. I was scared that their parent could stop sending them money for school, food, rent for helping me. I had to think and make a decision good for all of us. It was impossible for them too to chasse because we didn't have any problems.

What a bad coincidence again. I am sure may be my family in Congo didn't know that I was living with the Luboya Children in South Africa. I remembered when I was packing my bag to live them Kapy didn't want to let me go.

I got a temporary place with a family called Kisanga: the big brother was called Jaquie Kisanga. I was determined this time to get a place where I should live alone or with a South African to avoid further coincidence. Guy Portia a family friend lived with the Kisanga already. It wasn't good for me to be a new occupant.

Guy Portia was also like a big brother to me. Encouraging me with wise advises. When I heard trouble at the college he was like my family representative. He was also studying at the same college with me, Damelin.

Bedfordview Gardens had many flats and people. And we use to see and greet each others, in the lift or in the corridors.
My priority was just to finish the last year and go to Pretoria. Then unexpected, I met a South African originated of Lesotho or Swaziland called Franklin Chalale.

I told him that I was looking for a place to stay for few months before the end of the academic year. Before him I approached couple of people without getting the positive answer.

Unexpected I heard the man saying: "come and live with me" I immediately get scared. I was the one who ask me now I was surprised. I hardly know this man. The only time we met was in the lift few times. The people who I was hanging around with could give me a place where to sleep. But this unknown man without any hesitation responded positively to my demand.

Funny enough, I told him: "How can you offer a place while you don't know me well?"
He said: "You can know some one just by the first meeting. You don't need hours to study someone only five minutes. I know that you are a good boy".

This man has really changed the way to view people. Just like that after I talked to him. One hour later I got a room into his apartment. For the first time in my life I felt that they are people who are considering me. This man will always remain very special to me. While many couldn't trust me but Franklin make me realized that I was special too.

What I didn't know is that Franklin Chalale was an auditor and his job obliged him to be on the road every time. After two days he left me alone in his apartment with all the furniture and expensive music equipment for tree weeks.

He didn't love television and did have one but he had good musical equipment. He loved jazz music and slow music. Many people even thought that I was the owner of the apartment. When he used to come before he live he was making sure to leave food grocery for me.

I had a place sure where to stay and concentrate on my studies. It was more than a blessing. I didn't even saw the rent receipts or pay anything. Franklin did everything without any complain.

Thanks God when I graduated. He was sent to live to Bloenfontein. His company decided to locate him there because it was almost in the middle of the country to easy his traveling.

Then I decided to join my brother George in Pretoria. My curiosity of studying wasn't over. I quick get used to the city. Pretoria could have been the capital city of South Africa but Johannesburg was the place was things were happening.

We studied in Geography that Pretoria was the capital city of South Africa. But I can say that it was only the political capital. When it comes to economy and other things Johannesburg was ahead of Pretoria.

Pretoria actually called Tshwane with the impressive historical buildings. The crime rate was much low than the one in Johannesburg. The notorious suburb of Johannesburg Hillbrow was and still the most fearful suburb even thought the crime has really declined. Most of people called it the African Harlem version.

All those buildings with plenty of people makes difficult to police to assume effectively their job. In a very small area half a million of people live in. All sort of people: good and bad. Legal and illegal foreigners. Legal and illegal activities. Mixed with South Africans and none South African.

A person who helped me to settle easy in Pretoria was my girl friend in that city, Emily Shamangu. Some time if you find a woman in a certain area it help you to settle and quick love that place.

Still I was missing sometime the vibe of the notorious suburb of Johannesburg Hillbrow, the urine at his corners, the endless passing people on streets�

Time to time I was making a plan to visit some friend in Johannesburg and relatives. Two maternal uncles come also with their family in South Africa: Salomon Mulumba and Kapitene. It wasn't far Johannesburg and Pretoria was about 40 minutes drive or one hour thirty minutes with the train.

I was blessed to get various jobs via the student�s agency: "student wise." The agency connected me to many jobs such us, pamphlets handling and stock taking. Then my brother and George got a job in a big warehouse: O.K Ditaba where were working from 16 hours to 6 hours in the morning.

The money was quiet good. And we worked there for 6 months as selector in the ware house. My dream was going back to school but the working hours could allow me to study.

I can say the break come through another strange way. It was forbidden to eat the food of the warehouse. One day while working with 3 friends, the days was so quiet and they were no labels available. So we started hanging around in the warehouse with the machine transporters. Then we opened a Cornet Meat tin and shared the food.

A moment later the supervisor arrived and asked us what we were doing. I said that we eat a Cornet Meat. And the other 3 colleagues denied. I was fired on spot and many people viewed me stupid for telling the truth.

The only man who supported me and congratulating me of telling the truth was my brother George. I remember him telling me: "Dish you are not imbecile but you have the quality that many people do not have. Telling the truth"

My plan was hit. Because the money was good and as a foreigner it wasn't easy to get such a good job. I had to face now life now without a job and without a prosper of having another job.

The first step I did was to sell my motorcycle: Honda 400N. The money I collected helped me to return to college and study the industrial relation. My brother and I together bought a Kombi VW. Sometime we could make extra money in transporting other student in that mini bus to get extra money but it wasn't mine alone. I decided to leave it to my brother.

In 1997, a Japanese organization: JVC. I don't remember the significance Japan Volunteer Council. Organized a exam to sponsor 10 students with their studies of their choice.

I decided to participate on the exams. The exam took place in Johannesburg at the catholic Cathedral. Thousands of people participated. And they wanted to sponsor only 10 peoples. Many people were already qualified from universities from different African countries but wanted to continue their studies in South Africa to burst their chances of getting jobs.

Many people who come to South Africa had dream to continue their studies but were hit by the reality of life and decided to take up all kind of jobs just to survive. The reality here where not what they thought of finding, opportunity were difficult without the South African green identity.

When they result come out. The Japanese agency called me to report to their offices in Braamfontein a suburb of Johannesburg. I went there and they gave me the result and told me to choose any course at any institution.

I took this opportunity to choose all the courses I wanted to do. I took journalism per correspondence with Allenby to improve my writing skills. This time I wasn't even writing any short story but I still had the zeal to write one day but I didn't know when and what to write. In fact at this time in my spare time I used to write songs. I was not fan of poetry but I was fan of songs.

I took, a part time course on electronic with Damelin where I graduated in marketing. And took dentistry assisting, this is one of the course that I didn't enjoy. I showed the sponsor. I remember the represent of JVC Yoshi laughed and said to me he believed that I was able to take many courses. They will sponsor. Those where just short courses.
Later on I decided to continue with Industrial relation look alike course with I.A.C, Then I took some similar courses in Personnel management ( Human resources).

This time, I had quiet many time. I slowed my karate training. I had all I wanted in this sport and kept training only for the good wealth. Karate wasn't like boxing were you can make a living in wining money. It was a sport was you win only medals. Then at some stage in life you need money and the sport were not providing. In soccer I was hit by series of injuries and it wasn't anymore my priority. Some of the injuries where not even from soccer field but from my karate training. I loved karate even thought I lost interest in competition I could sleep without kicking up a leg. I was addicted to karate I must confess and I am still addicted to it. The few competitions I won where enough for me to satisfy my curiosity.

With many styles and many association in this sport. It makes even more difficult to know which association was the best association: Tai Kwondo, Shotokan, Kung Fu, and many more.

I felt that it was time to concentrate on life. The medals were good but it was important to see the future too. I concentrated on studies a lot. At the end of years 1999 I graduated in all the courses I took.

The advantage I had his that I could easily managed to take many subjects with our back ground. In Congo we used to have many subjects at high school.

1999, was just a good years for me. Claris my former lover was back from Umtata were she has graduated and I our plan this time was to get married the following year.

Then something happened in Pretoria. I tried to get authorization from the party concern but they refused to allow me to include them and all the events in this autobiography and I am determined soon or later to talk about it if they grand me the authorization.

I left Pretoria after this problem. I moved to Johannesburg. The first think I did was to call for Claris Mumba and apologized for the inconvenient I caused to her dream. The wedding will not take place anymore unless a miracle happens. I felt that I wasn't ready to get married. I took this opportunity to tell her the truth.

She couldn't believe for what I said. I remember her begging me for considering our plans I told her that I didn't want to delay her life in promising her to marry her while I wasn't ready to live as a married.

I don't know may be I was nervous. I returned to Pretoria to get my documents and see Clara. I got my diplomas but I lost all my writings. I was very upset. After keeping them from Manono to South Africa. I lost all of them. I don't know who took them.

It wasn't the only disappointment I went to see my lover. She was touched by my phone call and returned to Zambia. Really, I didn't realized how I hurt her. I tried even to contact her to apologize but her family refused to give me her contact address.

New eve 2000 while I was in Johannesburg. I another party celebration in South Africa but at very different way. People throwing bottles, bed, old furniture from the windows. Many people got injured by that celebration.

I was living in the notorious suburb Hillbrow at that time. After the big celebration I decided to get a job and work first.
I sent various CV here and there but the only obstacle was the ID the most required document. The South African identity book was very important. Most of the opportunities were closed. It was difficult to have some opportunities or even got a driver license, it was even very difficult to open a bank account.
Many people had the impression that people in living in Hillbrow were used to drugs while some people in Hillbrow don't even know the colour of drugs.
I remembered a neighbour who could never believe that as a foreigner I don't do drugs. Every time he used to see me he was asking me. "How was the business today". At start I used to tell him that things were fine not knowing what he meant by business. But I later realized that he was asking me about the business of selling drugs. Many foreigners especially Nigerian were accused of doing drugs.

As a foreigner, I couldn't get the type of job I wanted. But I have to be honest that I was not patient enough to wait. After numerous advises by friends. They told me to do what everybody does. Get a job as a security and then leave South Africa. I accepted the offer.

I had to be courage forget about the schools qualifications and take any job that comes on my way.
I met another Congolese Mark who worked as a security he told me to go to a security training school called Elephant. I went to the training center and I find one of my karate colleague, Tony who was the head and founder of that school.
I remember finding talking to the security student: "I hit 7 peoples, two had broken ribs, two were admitted to hospital and tree run wounded".
My first thing that comes into my mind was the authenticity of that story. The art martial that I studied taught me discipline, taught me to fight only in extreme danger, taught me not to show how strong and powerful I was. It was more a culture to me. Any way there was many discipline in karate may his taught him to show is strength. I couldn't reproach him but I wasn't please.
Very happy, he admitted me at the security school and we chatted and started our own karate organization. With all we learned over the years from various karate associations plus the experienced we started an art martial called: AMA: Art Martial Academy.

We included various arts martial on it: Karate, Judo, Aikido�We started training every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon. Tony was good in Kung Fu. Even thought we had many disagreements in our disciplined we managed to form a good club in his school building in the afternoon.

After tree weeks of security training. I got the certificate. I reminded Tony that he wrote on the advertising board: "�Job guaranty after training"

I saw him taking the yellow page and taking some phones numbers and tried to give me. I told him that: "You are not serious. Yellow pages securities companies is not a guaranty"
He tried to persuade me that I will definitely get a job by those numbers. I told him "everybody has access to yellow page and don't have jobs"
We argued little bit and I told him before leaving his office: "See you at the club"
I angrily left his training school. I went to various companies but I couldn't have got what I thought easy job to get: "Security."

Then after two weeks at the end of January 2000. Tony comes to look for me at home. He told me that they was an interview in a security company called: Champion. At that time we all lived in the same street
I went to the office of Champion. I met many people outside the office some hundred people waiting for the interview. And they were two categories of people: South Africa citizens and the foreigners.

Everybody after the interview was waiting outside for the response. When I got in the office for the interview the boss of the company Mr. Andrew asked me: "Do you have any job experiences in security"

I told him: "I never been a security before and I don't have any job experience. I was studying"
After the interview, I join many people waiting for Andrew's finale decision. I chatted with some people outside and told them what I said to Andrew.

Everybody told me that they won't hire me. They told me that I had to lie that I was a soldier or worked as a security some where.
After like two hours I saw Andrew coming out of his office with a paper of the people accepted.

They wanted only five peoples. Then I heard he called my name and the name of four peoples. I was hired. Against all the expect analysts.
That honesty that priests praised me for help me to get a job here. That honesty makes me loose one of the best jobs I had in my early years. While my colleagues who lied saved their job and everybody viewed me like a stupid. It here again that honesty made me get a job.
I was still member of the student wise agency but I needed a regular job where I could make a plan with the few money I had. Student wise money was very good but the job weren't regular. Sometime you wait for months without getting a call for any job. You keep loosing even your money in calling the agency every week without getting a positive response. It was good for people who had car that time and I didn�t have any car that time.

Then the next day, when I went to the office. I saw many people who were waiting for the interview. Andrew was rushing somewhere. He just told to many people who were waiting outside to stand. Then he pointed out without any interview 4 people he saw where fit for the job and hired them too.

We the new recruited regretted for all the trouble we went through for the interview.

The following day. We went for the dog training. The dog training was in Alexandra town ship. On our return they gave us uniforms�Two days later I started the job. I worked at the shop in Hillbrow called Spar for about tree week then I ask the supervisor to give me a night shift post.

It is a place that I was avoiding to be affected. They were many Congolese in Hillbrow and many knew me. I was little bit shy that a son of a former minister and pharmaceutical businessmen, a son of a respected journalist producer was holding a dog at that shop. But I had to hardly kill my instinct and work there so I may have money and accomplish my dream for a while.

I wanted to take advantage of working at night and start re writing my lost short stories. During the day it was difficult to get a chance to write. Even when you get back from work at 20 hours. They were no time to cook and start writing. We were working from 8 in the morning to 20 hours. It was a 12 hours shift.

I wanted to work at night too to avoid my uncle Salomon with whom I stay with at that time. We where sharing a one room. He was married and had two children. I felt that I should make a plan at least to disappear every night to give him a time of privacy too. My uncles were my good friends too but I have to think of him too even thought we didn't discuss on this subject.
For many they used to undermine the securities in nicknamed them as Marchinline. According to a very short stories I heard, securities were called people who march in line. Because in the ancient time, they were ordered to march in line.
My request was granted after two months of working day shift and I was moved to a night shift post. I had no permanent post at the start as night shift security personnel. I was a all around security replacing the sick securities or the securities off duty.

My first night was quiet strange. The supervisors took me in the company car and drop me very far in a suburb called Kempton Park.

He gave me a radio and told me to wait outside a private property and told me that the owner of the house will come and open the gate for me to enter the premises.

But it was a different story. The owner of that property never come. And inside the property a big dog was bagging for the all night I spent there, the security radio wasn't working. May be it was because I was very far the office or the battery were just flat.

To add on top of my misery. The rain kept coming down. I was just to wet. And in the morning the supervisor comes to fetch me at around seven hours in the morning. The security shifts were 12 hours but this day I did 13 hours. It wasn't all at around 2 hours in the morning I saw a group a suspected people on the way. I didn't have any gun and I knew that I could have fought physically but I didn't know what the suspect people had. We even learn in art martial that you have to avoid trouble in an unpredicted circumstance. I jump on top of a tree while watching the movement of those coming people. In that wet tree I could see the men walking by discussing of what to do and where to broke.

They didn't see me. Anyway I wasn't allowed to look after the streets, I suppose to be in a premises. The security radio wasn't working. I couldn't even call a back up. Even thought I could have called the back up. It was far from the security office to be assisted in time.

I felt sick when I get home. Surely from the rain. Then after two days I went back to work. This time, I got a good post for a day. At one of the building in the city with a good guard room, a heater inside and a television set.

It was only for that day. The next days I was another place. Some post were good and some post weren't just very good. Some post were only preserved for South African citizen or people from neighboring countries who speaks well the local dialects. Like the one in a suburb called Jeppes Town. The reason was that it was important to those posts to talk the local dialect with the local tongues.

Even if a robber come and over power you before the arrival of a back up. You can talk and negotiate and can be kept alive just by talking correctly their dialect. But if you are foreigner talking with a strange accent you not likely to be alive.

I thought that working at night could have been easy for me to write but because of the various change of posts. I couldn't get a chance to write anything for the past two months. This becomes a worrying factor for me.

JVC organization closed down, soon as predicted. I couldn't have got another organization especially as foreigner to support my studies. I was always ready to study anytime.
At the other hand the organization that was sponsoring me closed down. I was the lucky one to have completed the studies. Surely something scandalous happen to that Japanese organization and many people were left off the hook.

There is one thing that makes me do this job. I wasn't competing with anyone. While many people laughed at me I was always happy with what I was doing. All the meditation session we did at the priest seminary built a strong patience in me. Even Karate as a art martial built in me a sense of patience. I think that those to things help me to focus on pursuing my future step by step. Soccer I was hit by many injuries some from other sport affecting me.

But sometime I could loose my focus and my philosophy for a while. I remember one day I was affected to work at the mall called Eastgate. I had to look after the woman nail product in a mini show. A ex female colleague of mine who was a good friend of mine passed by.

The first thing come to my mind was like: "what that Naomi will think saying me wearing a security uniform?". I remember only her name Naomi, I forgot the other name. We used to live in Bedforview together we used to catch the bus together for school. Instead of greeting her I vanished for a while. Then I realized my mistake, I decided to return to the show and meet her after some few years. I searched for her in the group of woman watching and buying the make up. I couldn't see her again.
She used to be a good friend of mine. We used to visit each other and we used to do home work together. And she helped me a lot in communication courses.

Finally, I got a nightshift post in a suburb called Forest Town. I heard a chance to make a plan. I took a correspondence course and started rewriting my lost short stories. First on notes books. I hated corresponding courses because the certificate were not much recognized. But in that situation, I had no choice; I was send to South Africa for one reason to study farming to later take care of the family farm in Kalambayi the paternal ancestor village in Kasai. Even thought I did do the course that family assigned me, I was glad studying.

But the lost I suffered in Pretoria was immense. All the research and work I did since my early years were gone. I couldn't even remember anymore words. Even thought I was now more mature and got many experience in life but I could even remember most of the secret formula I had.

All the pygmies� clan Mbabote much wanted histories were now useless without name. And I didn't know if I will have anymore a chance to return to them. In my spare time at work I was trying to rewrite all those ideas.

It could have been good to loose the school reports and diplomas because they are papers and the knowledge acquired were very important because they remain in the mind for ever and no one will take away from me.

At this post I had a dog and chair inside a quiet house that was an office. I could gym or train when I felt cold. I could relax in reading library novels�

Libraries it self was a big gift to me. In Congo we didn't have public library only school library with less and very few old books. And many were destroyed and the government was not replacing them. I could take the opportunity if I wake up early before I go to work in the afternoon I could spend some time to the library.

I remember that some of the night shift supervisor use to come to our posts leaving their car far and slowly walk to check if the guard is sleeping at night. One day, one of the supervisor left the car quiet far and in hiding behind trees come to check me.

He found me training and jumping. It what he wasn't expecting. I heard I man laughing. When I look at the man laughing in the quiet night it was a nightshift supervisor.

Then after I told him that I was training. He joked: "When will I found you sleeping to give you a warning?"
I told him: "May be one day or may be never"

He ends up trusting me. Then he put me on the all round post again. Replacing many sleeping guard. My joy was short cut.

After 1 year of working as a security and studying per correspondence. I decided to leave South Africa and try to travel to another country and try others opportunities.

The most painful moment was when I was sent to watch cars at the evening service for Christmas at the Roman Catholic Church. At some stage I said to myself: "I should have reading the service but now I watch cars at the Catholic Church."

The Roman Catholic Church wasn't really big in South Africa. Not like in many African countries where the church is big and even influence the political situation in those country. Many churches and even traditional churches were bigger than Catholic Church. I have even the impression that the Anglican Church was even bigger than the Catholic Church in South Africa.

I went to various embassies with my Congolese passport but couldn't get a visa. Then many country men advise me to follow what many people do.

I believe that even the Congolese document was affected. No one trusted this document. Many country men have just misused the document and everybody were affected.
First the Congolese passport becomes the most expensive passport in the world. It cost 200$ at that time almost half a plane ticket to take me out of Africa. The Congolese government was even unable to look after the embassies. So the embassies had to make a plan to survive in selling documents. My Congolese passport that time was expired and I was using a refugee document. This document couldn't help me to travel.

I met another man in Hillbrow. He said he was an expect of traveling. I told me that he could help me to get a respected passport to travel with. He was well known for he saw called job. He asked me 1 000 Rand for his job and my two photos passport.

What was strange to this man he was revealing the place he lived but we used to phone each other and meet at the street corner. I asked him many time his physical address but I kept promising that he has about to move. I should wait until he moves in his new house. At least I knew one of his name: "Jean"

I did like the man said. Two days later he phoned me to come and fetch the passport. He made I don't know how a Malawi's passport with my picture and a strange name of Simon Mariwita. I asked me if it will be easy for me to leave South Africa with the document. He told me that many people have left the country that way. He then said that he was a home affair himself.

I went and buy an airplane ticket on that name. My plan was to travel to Russia via London with that document. My dream was to follow my scientific hero Yuri Gargarina. I had a dream to try my luck to be an astronaut researcher. I was thinking of going to London then after that see a way to travel to Kazakhstan. According to my research it was the most accessible place to realize my dream.

Without any friend or any man to assist me in that land. I decided take a risk and leave South Africa to try opportunity to another country. May be I was frustrated to as a foreigner here thing were not going according to my way. Or may be this dream was jut to big to be realized but I was decided to try even if I had to fail.

I remember that I booked in June 2001 for a certain Sunday. I checked that Jean's Malawi passport. It didn't even have a South African visa. The visa was already expired.

I decided to go to the border at least to get a entry visa. It was a Wednesday afternoon, I took a train to the Mozambique border. The train arrived at the border of Mozambique Thursday morning at around six.

I arrived at the border before even the immigration office open the office. I waited until 8 to be served. When the immigration official took the passport he screamed: "overstay" then put a stamp to leave South Africa and don't return.

I argued little bit with the official. He refused to give me the permit. I decided to cross over in Mozambique thinking of how to get to Johannesburg Sunday to travel. This document wasn't a travel document but more troubles.

Everything gone wrong. Just few meters in Mozambique I met a young man called John. He told me that he can help me to enter South Africa within a day.

I wondered how he will help me to return to South Africa. Here most of the people were speaking Portuguese but very few people could mix Portuguese and English. I went to this young man home. He was married and had two children.

I even gave him the Malawian on his passport to hold it for me to help me to get a reentry South African visa. John disappeared for a while with the passport on his return at around 4 in the afternoon he promised me that the passport was on his way. He left it with his friend emigration official.

Not knowing the area. I accepted his explanation. Then I waited until six hours in the afternoon. Then I saw many people coming to John's house. I passed my time playing with his two children.

Then at around seven hours in the afternoon many people kept pouring at John's house. Then after few minutes. I saw John coming with a bottle of Whisky. And started drinking. I started getting impatient.

I call him aside to ask him for my passport. He told me the official who had the document his coming.

Then I heard him calling about 30 people who come to his house and started explaining how to jump the South African electric fences. I wasn't expecting this phenomenon.

Then I realized that John work was to help people to jump the fences. I was just curious listening how this man was explaining to the illegal immigrant to get to South Africa.

Then at around 9 hours at night. He took the group of his client and makes them pay 50 Rand each to get into South Africa. As a curious researcher by nature my curiosity grows.

I heard in South Africa that millions of people used to jump the fences to South Africa. I had a pen and paper and time to time started writing the event. All the people were speaking Shona and few were far from Malawi and few were from Zimbabwe.

The border was near but we took a long road. To the mountain. He told us to hide still if we see the South African patrolling car. And to hide in the short bushes too when see a suspicious movement. I forgot for a while to ask this young man the passport. He was in early twenties.

John in front and we illegal immigrant following him. Following a foot step we reached the South African borders. I check on my watch it was exactly 11hours in the afternoon. That mean we walked for more than two hours. As a researcher I used to always carry a pen and a paper, you never know where the inspiration will come from and how.

He made or digger a hole under the high voltage electric fences. He checked around if the South African defense force was around. Then he divides the thirty people in a group of ten people each.

He took the first group. They were following his move. Getting under the electric fence in the hole. Then get out pass another fences and the South African road. Then get the other side and hide in the bush. Then he took the second group and I was in the last group.

Before my turn to jump the border was a fat woman. I was sure that she will have a problem to get under the fences but it wasn't. She went under the electric fences without no difficulties.

I also did the same. Then the other side we all started following the man walking in some of the cane plantations. Amazing how people get to South Africa and I think that it also amazing how people from the South American get to USA.

People know really how to break the rules. As long that many African countries still economically struggling it will be very difficult to stop those practices.

I checked on my watch it was 12 hours 30 that we all crossed the borders. I heard some of the people praising South Africa: "A good country with plenty of jobs and they pay people on hours�"

I laughed to myself and said to my self: " if only they could know how many people are jobless in South Africa they couldn't talk this language"

We walked again for about half an hours. John got used to me little bit and tell to the other people to wait for him. His going to fetch a transport. He took me and we walked for about 30 minutes and met another man driving a small truck.

John told me: "it is the man that we were going to see"
The driver who was in his forties was accompanied with a boy who was about sixteen years old. We were all sitting in front. I come up with a small joke: "look John is my friend". Immediately the driver responded: "Um, your friend?"

I stopped answering him. I wondered why this man responds with an unpleasant word? This look really suspicious. The must me something wrong.

He took us and we went to fetch the others illegal immigrant.

I got off the truck and an idea come to my mind: "I can sleep in the bush. Then tomorrow get back a train to Johannesburg. I know Johannesburg and I have my legal document there. Why should I have to stuck like this"

Then I realize that John still have to give me my permit. Let me give him a chance to work then ask for my permit.
The driver told me to get into the small covered truck. I told him that I can't get in a small car like this with many people and drive all the way to Johannesburg. I needed my passport and I will find my way to Johannesburg.

The driver insisted and told me that John will give me my document on our way. I didn't know how far was the train station so I changed my mind and get in that small truck.
We drove for about twenty minutes. I checked on the watch with all the process of getting in the car �It was 1 hours 47 in the morning.

Then the driver stopped by one bush and told everybody to hide in the bush. He left the car in the road with the light on like if the car was experiencing a mechanical problem.

Then while everybody hide in the bush. I stand next to the driver and John. I changed my tune of voice: "John, please can I have my passport"
John was like: "I told you to be calm. I will give you your passport"
I told him: "I don't have time to wait anymore. Thank you for helping me to jump the borders. I wasn't expecting it"

Then I heard the driver supporting me: �John gives him his document. Where is the passport?"
Then John was like: "Wait a minutes"

I wanted to hit him but I decided to wait for a while. I realize that the man John didn't have the passport anymore. While I was waiting. I saw the driver advancing in the bush were the illegal immigrant were hidden and stated asking everybody: �How much money do you have?"

Immediately and idea come to me: �this is very suspicious what the other pocket has to do with him. Money is personal not the driver business"

While analyzing the situation. I heard a clap; the driver has slapped someone who had 50 Rand: "Do you think 50 Rand will take you to South Africa?"

I went straight to talk to the driver: "what wrong man" I was amazed how a man can have even the courage to clap other people. Why the money has to become an issue?

The driver didn't respond me. Then I saw John too starting checking people bags. The driver's son started checking even people. Then I said: "there is something wrong"

While watching how the event quick changed. I saw the driver's son undressing a woman. Then I got nervous. I realized that it is their game and they steal people's belonging and money once their cross the border. We were with robbers. It is this incident that angered me more and made me realized that we were in the hand of criminals.

We grow up respecting people especially the grown up. We grow up considering all the old women as mother. I couldn�t take this scandal seeing a young boy to undress a woman big enough to be his mother in public.
I called John aside: "Where is my document" Then I heard saying: �you want to fight now". I didn't realize may be I was the only man in the group carrying a document.

Then I slapped him. I don't know what told me to look behind me immediately before waiting even for John reaction. I saw the driver pulling a gun from his jacket. I turned around and went into the bush.

The driver and his accomplices started following me. In that panic he fired two gun shot. I said to myself: "they will never get me in the bush". I kept running in the cane plantations. Immediately a said though come into my mind:" God, oh God why should I keep running for all my life. I run I Manono and I run when I was young and now I keep running"

I kept running in the unknown area and I decided to stop and check if anyone was following me again. I realized that no one was following me. Then I heard a bad feeling and I was concern of other people who I left behind: �what will happen to them?"

I didn't have a gun to defend them. I nervously kept walking in the bush. Then an idea comes to me to stop walking. I realized that I don't know the area and if I keep walking I will get more lost. I stopped for like 30 minutes then I saw a car light turning to another street. I said my priority now must be to follow a big road and from there I will find my way out.

I then started following where the light turned. Then I saw another car light, then another one. I must find people were I am going. Then I walked for about 15 minutes and I loved the adventure too, I loved risk. I realized that I was always hearing people saying how illegal immigrant cross the border. But I felt sadness too, I was close to death. In middle of the bush with unknown criminal. I didn't know really what happen to others.

I forgot that I was trying even to satisfy my curiosity in recording all the events. As I approached, I started saying the big truck. I waited with all the cane's wet plantation at night. I remembered that it rained at around 4 in the afternoon at John's house.

I was happy that at least I will find people and talk to and find my way to Johannesburg or even Pretoria.
I started looking for truck drivers to talk to. But everybody even at the other side of South Africa was talking Portuguese. After many try, another truck driver offered me his cell phone to call my brother George. I called him and he pick up the phone. I told him: "I am Dicho. I am stuck at Kumati port, South African and Mozambique border. Something really had happened"

I could feel the frustration of George. He didn't have any cash to pour petrol and travel a long distance to come and fetch me. My big problem is that I ran out of cash. I kept 150 Rand for the one day journey but I gave to John the money according to his version of story that he will give to the immigration official to get me a reentry visa. The train to Johannesburg cost only 50 Rand.

I had an idea to get a train but how could I have got into the train? Really this false document was the beginning of many troubles.
I decided to sleep for a while under another parked truck until the morning.

Then I started asking for lift to many truck drivers. Many said that they were not going to Johannesburg. Then I decided to stop cars going to Johannesburg.

Then another man driving a 4 by 4 car stopped. He offers me the lift. This man was playing gospel into this car. I realized how lucky I was because he didn't even offer anybody else a lift except me. He didn�t even give lift to many women stopping car. He was going to Rustenberg but decided to drop me to Pretoria and even talked to my brother. I promised him to give him money once I reach Pretoria then when he reached Pretoria; he refused to take the money my brother George gave him. I won't forget this man, he realized when driving to Pretoria that I was very tired and hungry. He even stopped at one fast food and bought me food.
I arrived in Pretoria at around 5 hours in the afternoon. Saturday morning I took a train to Johannesburg. I phoned Jean the man who made that passport. He told me that he can make a plan so I catch the plane Sunday.
I later heard that some people who help people cross the borders always take some immigrant, they take some people hostage. And they wanted they family�s members and friend to pay plenty of money to realize them. I also heard some stories about some women who were raped and killed too. And I heard other people telling me how they were stripped by those people who helped them to cross the borders.

I hesitated for a while and then accepted his idea.
Sunday morning, I had a strong feeling that I will be arrested. But I didn't want to loose my ticket without even trying. I packed my bag and took what was important. I wanted at least to try. I wondered how the jail will look like.

At around five hours in the afternoon. I phoned Jean to bring the new document. He sent his young brother with another Malawian passport with the same name Simon Marawita and my picture.

I went home I took my bag and entered into the taxi. The plan had to leave at around 8 hours and I supposed to be at the airport two hours before the plane's departure.

In the taxi I opened the document and I said "I am going into jail" Was I curious to explore the jail that I never even smell? I don't really know. I decided to take a chance straight at the Johannesburg international airport.

At my first stop I was arrested at OR Tambo airport then called Johannesburg international airport and formally Jan Smith airport. The name and the signature's name were different. It wasn't a shock to me. I was put at the airport detaining center to be transferred at the police station. No one wanted to accept that I was Congolese. They said I was not looking like a Congolese. It wasn't my first time that people do not accept that I was not Congolese. Even in Congo many people used to say that I was not Congolese enough. But the police man who took the statement was shocked that I was honest with him. He even thanks me that he hasn't met someone very cooperative like me but after explanation he accepted that I was Congolese.
But most of the people refused to accepts that I was telling the truth when I said that I was a Congolese.
I found inside the small police office a big tall man seating on the chair. He was wearing a very big golden chain. He was also arrested for using a French passport. He was also a Congolese. His passport name was Alexandra not his real name.

One police officer come to me and makes a statement. After the statement he thanked me that I made his job easy. I was honest with him. Then few minutes later I saw a Nigerian national who was arrested. Him, wasn't lucky like us. He had a Swaziland photocopied passport. All the page were very light and look more like a colour photocopied passport.

The Nigerian had a bad reputation not only involve in legal activities but also know for the drug trafficking. He was stripped off. Checked by 4 police official. One hour later we were sent to Kempton Police Station.

That time I was excited to get into jail. I said I will have many inspirations and see the jail that I saw in movies. Alexandra told me: "my family his coming to pay my fine soon. I will be a free man soon"

Entering in one cell. We found some robbers suspect and a man with a scar on his left eye telling me: "�I killed that police man. I will escape from the jail soon"
He had a sharp iron and told us: "I will break the window and escape"

I look at the ironed window and I saw that the man already started cutting the edge of the window. But it looks like it was an impossible task. The wall was very big. My question was not answered: how a criminal could have a sharp object in a police cell?

I look at the wall. I saw many writing. Many people who were in the cell left their nicknames on the wall. Some of the writing where even in French. I asked the police officer to make some phones call in their office and they let me make phones calls. I called George, Melanie, Emily Shamangu my ex girl friend.

We sleep in the cell and the following day we had to appear in the court. I wanted to talk for my self but the police officer advised me to hire a lawyer.
There was a friendly blonde with blue eye woman who promised me to be my lawyer. I gave her my relative�s phone number. She used to call me her friend.

Then I was reminded to appear in the court Thursdays. I was transferred to the waiting trail at Modderby prison in a suburb called Benoni. The car that took the criminal was followed by the police cars and sirens.

When I entered the big prison of about 5 000 prisoners. The cells were over crowded. Many blanked around and few bed. It was around seven hours in the afternoon that I arrived at this location.

I took some blankets to make myself a place where to sleep. Another man looks at me and told me: "do you want to play guitar?"

I had no idea what the man said. I ignored his call and took many blankets. I realized that it was called but people were avoiding the blankets. Thirty minutes later, I started playing the guitar. The blanket had many biting lice insects. This was the big challenge I met in the waiting trial.

In the morning, we wake up and the cell had a chief called: "cleaner". I though cleaner meant some one in charge of cleaning the cell but it was the cell chief.
Then turn to turn people swept the cell. Then I heard people from other neighbouring cell screaming: "Fola, Fola"

I saw people getting down on their knee. Then I heard the warders coming with big keys and opening many prison's door. It is easy to get in jail but not easy to get out of the jail. The prison was really fortified with all sorts of securities to avoid people to escape. I understood why the prison had many inmates but very few prisoners rarely escape.

The warders entered the cells and count all the prisoners, then they closed the cells and left. The warders were screaming: "Fola Fola" a sign to make the prisoners ready to stay on their knee a side so the warders could count them. Some time they may come many times a day to make sure that the get the exact numbers of prisoners. At around half past seven in the morning they warders open the door for the breakfast.

In a queue we went outside taking the plates and being served the porridge. And when I went to take the spoon it was a haft spoon. I asked a warder who was watching us" It is a spoon"

He realized that I was new then told me: "we don't allow sharp object here because you will hurt yourself and commit suicide. Thousand of people want to commit suicide" I understood. I took that half spoon only with almost nothing to hold it only the round to put in the mouth.

Then we went back in the cells. Here everybody I talked too said they were innocent. No one could reveal how he broke the rules and find himself here. Some have been in this detention for about two years.

At around 1hours to 2 hours in the afternoon we went again to the get food outside. The prisoners wearing green clothes were serving the waiting trial prisoners. This time we eat the heavy African food made on based of maize, pap and the chicken.

Let me tell you that the food was quiet good for a standard of prison. It said that in many countries in the world even free people do not have enough food. The only problem is that the quality of cooking was questionable. The quantity was good enough. Then they gave us 5 slice of bread for the night.

The main food was divided in tree: side of vegetarian, Muslim and the larger one for normal people. I used to eat at the side of vegetarian or Muslim. They had few people and the quality was quiet good compare to the larger group.

Then at around tree in the afternoon. They warder come to count the prisoners and lock the cells. Now people kept talking and watch television.
Then at around five in the afternoon, I saw Christians singing gospel songs and pray for about thirty minutes and a man among the waiting trials prisoners prays.

After the Christians, it was the turn of Muslin. I was impressed that many criminals turn to God. Unfortunately many were just praying to win in the court room.

Thursday, I went to the court and I didn't agree with the blonde lady on money, she even phoned my relatives and fail to come up with a suitable solution. I decided to talk for myself. The government lawyer after checking my real document even though I was legal told me that his job is to talk for South African citizen only.

I decided not to waste time and talk for my self. The judge was about to give a much softer sentence but I saw and heard a certain woman urging the judge to give me a heavy sentence: �These foreigners do not understand, every week we have to catch people at airport. You have to give him a hard sentence so the others could learn. This country has given them opportunities but they don't want it and want to leave..."

I hated that woman for a while. I didn't know her job, she was a prosecutor and she was just doing a job. The judge gave me a fine of 3000 Rand or 3 months imprisonment.

In the afternoon when I returned to Modderby prison or correctional service, they took my fingers prints and gave me a new green uniform and went now to the sentenced side people.

At my work, rumors circulated that I was arrested for trying to enter South Africa with drug. Rumor circulated that I swallowed a pack of drugs in condoms. They suspect that I went to Brazil to fetch drugs and captured on my way back. I was very thankful for my colleagues when I heard that they wanted to make each a contribution to help me pay my fine. But I rejected the idea. I didn't to make my own problem everybody's problem.

Then I met in the cell I went Alexandra the man who was telling me that he will be free soon. He was also given the same sentence than me. When I saw him, I told him: "Brother you still here". Him was sentenced Monday and me Thursday.

Alexandra was hanging around at the hospital block in prison next to the prison office. It looks like he was still excited to be in detention center. I saw him and he followed me in the office when I was hanging my bag to be kept there. He pull out in his pocked is chain Jewelry. He gave to the order at the office to keep for him. The warder told him: �We don't keep those stuff here"

The hospital group was meant for sick inmates but they used to keep the new comer for a while in that block. Some people weren't really sick in that block.
I was shock at this block to see a brother who wasn't sentenced but lived with his sick brother. He accepted to be in the detention to look after he very week brother. It shown the degree of love they had in that family.

Immediately we decided to stay next to each others. We stayed at the hospital block for about a week. I remember one day Alexandra was sleeping in a day time. Another prisoner come and told him: �why do you sleep during day? We always ready anytime to flee the prison� I look at Alexandra and told him: �You don't have to listen to what this man says. We don't have to flee even if the prison building collapses. We only have tree months to stay here"

I met another man in prison who said he was a supervisor in jail. He told me and Alexandra that if we wanted to escape jail, he could help us to do so. He claimed to know everybody in jail: all the official. I immediately told Alexandra in French that if he was a supervisor and knew to escape why he still himself in jail? We didn't have to worry because we had few months in jail.

Then they had to transfer us in the normal block. We were counting the days left for us to be realized. Before the transfer I was called in another office were a woman warder had to take again my particulars. She was very upset for what I did and was more concern than myself. I remember she insisted: �why did you do this crime?"
Then she gave me the prison green uniforms, tooth brush and even green underwear.
My first thing coming to mind was how the prisoners in South Africa were well treated. In Congo when you were in prison. The family members have to come and give you food everyday. People used to starve in the prison there. The facilities there were really inhumane.
Another rape convicted prisoner used to tell me that �I wanted to remain in prison for life. There are televisions, food and everything he wanted. He said that once he is realized he will rape a white woman so they may give him a hard sentence so he can remain in jail for life.�
Many people used to call prison: hotel Modderby because of all the human facilities.

Everything went according to our plan. We were both with Alexandra sent to the same cell in jail: E1.
The sentenced side was not overcrowded compare to the waiting trial block. All most everybody had his bed.
We met another group of prisoners in jail. They were asking us why we visited them there. We told them what we did and some of them got angry. I heard someone telling us: �You are tourist. We have life sentence and 15 years sentences and you come with your tree months sentence and option to pay fine."

Then we met in the same cell another foreigner from Kenya called Salim. I was charting to me when Alexandra warned me: "how can you be friend to a man you just meet no?"

What was interesting with Salim. He look at very quiet and a very Islam dedicated man. He spoke the most speaking language in Africa: "Swahili". I could talk to him in Swahili that I learnt in Katanga. Salim was based in Cape Town and was caught with a false passport too while trying to go to Canada with his South African fianc�e. But her fianc�e was realized early. He was using a false South African document.

All the people in jail told us that when they will realize us as foreigner we had to be transferred to the deportation center and then on our way there we had to bribe so they will realize us on our way.

We met many people claiming how they killed many peoples and many police men. But another inmate told us: "Those who are claiming to be big criminals are liars. The truth dangerous criminals are quiet and don't even talk"

I could realize that many people were just lying, may be they wanted to scare us...
In jail it was difficult to get money. But little money you have in jail may really help you. Everything was cheap there. If you want to eat good stuff, you have to give a 1rand and the man who serves us food will give you food in big quantity. You can hire someone to clean your clothes and do other stuff for you just with 1or 2 rand. Many inmates had no visitors and had no way to get money.
Things were cheap but it was almost impossible to get money into jails.
I remember that I was teaching another prisoner French in jail. He knew little French but wanted to learn more. But I realized that he wanted me to be his lover instead and I had stopped teaching him. He used to pay me 1 rand a session and it wasn�t that bad. With 1 rand in prisons you can buy something.
There were few foreigners there; many of them were Nigerian who had been sentenced for many years for drugs. Some Mozambican, Zimbabwean, Tanzanian also drugs and robbery. There was a group of Brazilians and South American for drugs too. Many nationalities were there for forgery and using false documents like Congolese.

Then another group much larger than other foreigners were people from Zimbabwe and Mozambique. Most of them arrested for robbery and car hijacking. But 90 % of people were South African. There was also few people who Swahili. There were South African who lived in the apartheid era in Tanzania. Most of them were arrested for arm robbery.
All the Congolese there were arrested for using false document.

Many afforded to leave South Africa with false documents but the unlucky one was caught. All had fine option but some were there because they didn't have that fine to pay. Like Alexandra and me who fail to pay fine.
Those who were sentences for many years could even attend a colleague and different training school in prison. It is why a correctional name was used instead of prison. People were educated and given a second chance.

The next days, I was expecting to hear the sentenced inmates to pray but time was passing. I asked another man: "when do you pray in your cell?"
The man answered me: "which pray?"
I told him: "pray like people do in the waiting cells."
The man looks at me strangely and told me: "we pray only Sunday by the playing field. We don't pray here. If God existed and was good. I shouldn't be here"

Then every morning we used to see a man with his wife photograph next to him. He used to wipe the photo every morning and sometime change the photos putting in another photo of the same woman. Alexandra noticed to and told me: �it a pity for this man who has 15 years to go. Do you think is wife with wait for him? May be someone is sleeping with her in his bed" The man who was desperately wiping his wife and girl friend picture was the man we met at the hospital block. The man who claimed that he was a supervisor and help people to escape. We were now in the same block. A desperate man like him could have been out if he had the possibility.

We felt pity for this man. Prison is not a good place at all. Not really a place to wish even to visit. The other inmates used to call us visitors or tourists. Because most of them had life or more than 10 years. They were also many Mozambicans, Zimbabwean for car hijacking, Tanzanian for house breaking. Many Nigerians, Brazilians, Peruvians for drugs�

But the majority of prisoners were South Africans. All the Congolese there were sentenced for using false passports.
Even Salim the man from Kenya was sentenced for the false passport too.

I heard little money in the account but I decided to finish all the sentence in jail and keep that money. The money that I had could help me to pay a fine may be of one week or two week only. I had no guaranty that once free I will immediately get another job. I had to go through this punishment that I alone started.
Every night what used to amaze me was the smoking of Mariguana or Dagga into all the cell. Those substances were illegal but I was wondering how they were entering the prison? Each night the cells were full of smokes.
I recalled the good relationship that we have with the cleaner of our cell. He was a ZCC pastors but I don't know why he was into jail. He was very good and was implementing the rules too of the prison. The only time I was punished it was when I went to wash before time. I wanted to be the first one to be washed. So we went to wash at 4 hours in the morning. And we were punished to clean the cells for one week. We did clean for few days but for two days we gave another man 2 rand to clean for us.
With little money in jail, you can be a king. You can hire people to clean the room in your turn, you can hire someone to clean and iron your uniform. You can buy some food by the small shop. You can buy some extra meat or eggs when you are served. Just when you give the plate to be served. Just put your one Rand or Two Rand, into the plate and the man serving you will give more meat and eggs. But the normal quantity of food was really good enough. Some Nigerians and other people could even sent warder to bring them fast food.
I really compared jail to a small forced boarding school and at the same time, it reminded me of the period of Mobutu in Congo where the abnormal was normal. Corruption becomes a normal thing. People were not shy of corruption. They may even travel with false document and testify in church how God bless them. They may buy document and praise God for getting the documents. Everything was for sell even a simple syringe was for sell. With the unpaid employee, they managed to make the living in selling the services and products.
I remembered and was even shocked when in the dictatorship regime female students used to sell they body to teachers to pass or sell they body to bosses to get jobs. I witness one day a student in Lubumbashi asking for money on the phone from his father to Mbuji Mayi on the phone so he can give to the teachers and rector to pass.
Few days before of my realize: George comes to visit me. Few days later Emily and lastly two days before I get out of the jail come Melanie.

I remembered how nervous she was. All the warders were watching us. She blamed me for getting in troubles�
The following days everybody was talking about her: �your wife loved you a lot. She cares of you�She was very nervous�"

The only scary moments were their knife that were circulating in the cells. The warders were surprising some time the inmates in checking the cells but they were not finding the knife. Checking even under the beds�

In our cell E1 there was a man who supposed to be the captain of the cell but it look like he had no authority. There was a group of about 7 inmates who had been sentenced of about 100 years imprisonment for serious crime who were very feared. They used to stay at the end of the cell. Sometime they used to hide there side with a long curtain.

One day while we were bathing at around 4 in the afternoon, Alexandra, Salim and me. We used to wash that time in group in that cell. Alexandra who was struggling to hide the golden chain. One day Salim saw the chain, we become close as tree foreigner in the cell and we end up telling him that the warder refused to keep the chain in the office.

But that day, amazing ling that golden chain got missed. Alexandra remembers that he had the chain before we bath and had hide as usually in the pocket of the prison uniform. We almost had finished to bath and already Salim wore his clothes and was ready to live the small bath room.

There was no globe in the bath room and it was little bit dark at that time. While using a small space to bath, we always made sure to live a small space for those who were entering to go to the toilet.
When Alexandra screamed that he golden chain was lost. We search in the bathroom around and didn't see. Then Salim started saying in undressing himself: " I swear it is not me, I didn�t took the chain". Only we tree saw and knew about that chain. I couldn't believe that a man who didn't know about it may take it.
There was no way that Alexandra could show to other prisoners. We were in a criminal�s territory. For sometime I thought that Alexandra misplaced the chain. I couldn't believe that Salim a very dedicated Muslim and very quiet man can do such a thing.
I called Salim and Alexandra and told them that we have to find it in few minutes the chain. If we take long, another prisoner will steal it and we don't have to let them know until we don't find the chain in 10 minutes time.
Then I heard Salim saying: �You are suspecting me of stealing the chain because I am not from Congo. You are both from Congo."
At that stage, I was convinced that Alexandra misplaced it and forgot where he hides it. We didn't have parcel in jail and that chain was a valuable possession to him and there was no way he could loose a eye on the chain.
We search around for more than 10 minutes and we were convinced that someone took it. We decided to tell the others inmates. The group of gangs took immediately Salim in their side hide by a curtain. I don't know what happen there, according to another gang, he was struggle and confessed that he hide the chain in his anus.

I went in their side hide to see what they were doing as another gang attacked me. I didn't want to be intimidated by the inmate like me. I told them that they will regret if they even think of intimidating me. They shown me their small knife well shaped. I say to them that I wasn't scared for their small knife. They told me that they had stubbed even some warders before and promised to stub me. They were angry that I was the one talking and I wasn't the owner of the chain. So I look at clever and tuff while the prison has his own people who run it, the gang. They said even warders were scared of them.

Alexandra wasn't even talking. He didn't even know English, I am the one who was talking instead.
We didn't even know that Salim gave the chain to the gangs. I don't know because Salim kept denying to have seen the chain. But it looks like they had agreed to sell the chain and share the money.

If only he had confessed to us that he took the chain and the gang of the cell took it we could have done our best to find it. Everybody in the cell condemn me of arguing with this group. Another man in a cell who had also a soft sentence for 3 months. he was a Taxi driver I remember a name Sipho he was very compressible. He had tree months too for traffic related crime. He failed to pay the traffic fine, he was a taxi driver. He was very concern and told me to sleep with one eye open. It look like they stab others when they sleep or in a group.
This time Alexandra the owner of that chain wasn't even a concern of this group but me. He also was scared. Just before we sleep we chatted with Alexandra that we should get the chain before the cell open tomorrow. He we fail to find it, when the door of the cell will be open the next day by the warders we will never see it again.

We wake up, in the morning before the arrival of the warders we beg other inmate to give back the chain, in exchange of money. According to Alexandra that chain cost him about 1,5 thousand $.
While I was come back from the other side of the cell, I find Alexandra seating with two cell gang. I heard one of them telling him: "You said that that small chain you had cost thousand dollars but it is too small for that price".
It looks like they wanted to get the true value of the chain before they sell it. Alexandra was even struggling to hear what they were asking him. I heard and I told him what they were asking him. Before we even analyze the situation we heard the coming warders coming and calling: "Fola, Fola". They warders entered and count us, look how clean was the cell and our clothes...
Then I told Alexandra to inform the warders of the missing chain. We agreed to tell the warders so they will stop letting the inmates. But it look like it was a our mistake, even the warder were now informed of the valuable chain and all wanted their hand in the chain too.

I remember another inmate what he told me, he said that prison wasn't a church, it was a place of criminal and everybody were criminal in jail no saint.
This incident happens just two weeks after our stay in jail. The warder just asked the inmate who saw the chain. Everybody said they never seen the chain. Then when we were distracted, I saw two gangs chatting in one of the warder. Then my request to search the all cell was not requested. Some inmate worked in the kitchens and had others job, they had to rush for the breakfast.
In that confused the group of the gang disappeared with one of the warder. Later on another warden who was disappointed of not buying the chain told us that the group of gang sold the chain for 200 hundred rand. That time 1 $ was about 4,5 rand.
Later on, Salim confessed to have taken the chain, his reason of stealing was because he wanted money to give to the police official on his way to detention center. But his plan failed because the gang didn't give him any cent.
We weren't done; we went to report to the office the missing of the chain. Unfortunately only we tree knew the existence of the chain. The warder who refused to keep the chain in the office was no where to be seen. We even open a case but nothing was done.
Then the arguing with the gang group continues even a week of the missing chain. Now it was time to avoid to be stabbed. I used to see another warder in a wheel chair who was stab by a prisoner and I didn't know which one could stab us. The gang had many friends in other cell too, so you don't know who will stab you.
We started avoiding even entering the block in group. We made sure that we are one of the last one to enter the block. We avoided even going to any kind of meeting or see how different block play soccer.
This was quiet a sad moment for us, it where we saw the importance of money. If we had any cash we could have paid our fine and go out as quick as possible.
Then some others noticed our perpetual arguing for the gangs of jail. They come up with a solution to send me and Alexandra to single cell called: Kulukutu.
Alexandra accepted but I analyzed and refused that offer. I didn�t want to be anyway in single cell far from people. That was even more than a prison. Each cell had about 40 people. And most of them were not even our enemies. I demanded to the warder to change us the cell. The warder hesitated after I explain how I choose this option, they accepted to change us cell. We were in the same block but now upstairs in E7.
But still we were always careful to avoid a possible stab.
We met another carrying man. He was a Nigerian and his name was Mark. That man used to spend a lot of hours on the phone calling relatives overseas each day. He had business interest outside and was running the business from prison. He once told me that if freedom was money he could have paid millions to get out.
He used to hire tree people standing on the telephone queue in prison. So when the turns of the hired one arrive, he takes the telephone. Sometime he could give money just to have a chance to talk on the card phone in prison. People were not scared of him but were respecting him.
He was in jail and was always in touch with the world. he used to care for everybody. I remember he even connected another man from Kenya in getting him job when he was realized. I have to be precise not Salim. He was sentenced to about 7 years for drug but already spend some 3 years in jail but wanted to appeal is sentence.
He used to make sure from jail that when you are realized you have a place where to stay even money. He even gave Salim money to freed himself and pay transport to Cap Town.
He rarely eats the food served in prison. He sometime gave warders to buy win some food outside the prison. He used to eat things from the shop in prison. He was none smoker or drinker and a very dedicated Christian.
Every Sunday, many people used to get on the sporting ground and pray. The catholic had their corners. The African churches to protestant had their corner too. Only Sunday not everyday like in the waiting trial.
Some outside pastors and priests used to visit us.
In the block side I never saw a woman. Even the woman warder, they job ended by the office. One day at around 8 in the evening, I heard people screaming like in a soccer game. When I look at the window, it was a woman wander who went in the office of the block. It was a scandal screaming.
The two first months in prison I didn�t have any visitors. I even got angry of my friends and relatives for not coming. I even wrote to them letters from jail, the postage was free and told them to never visit me.
In the second months Alexandra's brother come and paid his fine and the man was realized.
Salim the trouble maker left much early. He had a soft sentence 2 months and 2000 rand fine. He left early before even the complete investigation of the chain was completed. When we were sentenced, he already served 2 weeks already of his sentence. He left much early almost in our first month in jail.

In E7, at night at around 8 in the afternoon, people were smoking the forbidden herbal called Ganja. My worry was how the drug was entering the prison? Because there was no beer people used to get high with that smoke.
I was alone left in trouble now. Because of our short sentence, we weren't allowed to study but everyday except Sunday. I used to train in a group of 6 boxers in jail and also another man called Kumalo had a karate club in jail with about 12 students. Then the rest of the day we sat on the sun. It was winter and it was always cold.
People in jail loved soccer and almost everybody was supporting a soccer team and we used to watch a lot sport on television. Then after sport many people were interested in music, many had small radios in jail.
My neighbour in E7 wasn't going to the queue to get food. He was in his early 20's and He was sleeping down and I was sleeping on top. The other neighbour close to us was in his early 50's. He worked in the kitchen, every afternoon; he used to bring cigarette and food for my other neighbour.
I was wondering why he was not going to the queue to get food? Why the 50 year old man was bringing him everything? Because he worked in the kitchen, he used to bring him even nice cooked food.
But one day while I was sleeping late at night. I felt my bed moving. I immediately look at the neighbour the other side. There was no one, and then I look down in the bed. I saw like two people in the blanked.
I understood why this old man told me one day: �this is not a church. It is a home of criminals�

I used to hear about guy in jail and I didn�t believe until I witness the incident. I saw while in the ground people fighting for another inmate. He was called wife. It was a serious fight, I saw plates thrown here and there.
Then another prisoner pointed me, the prostitutes of prisons. They used to charge at that time 2 rand. Another man who was the well known prostitutes look more like a woman. Soft body, big boot even the way he walked and talked. I saw another prisoners who was hit by the warden because they caught him with that prostitute next to the block office, just behind the warden door.
Some inmates could even sleep in other cells just to meet their lovers. But most of the prisoners were straight. I was amazed one day when I went to see a doctor who used to come Tuesday and Thursday. When I was bleeding from my noise, I think it was cold. I saw in that doctor�s office plenty of condoms. At that time I wondering what was the uses of condoms in prison?
Because of the law in jail too, it was forbidden to sleep with another man without any consent. I didn't see any case of rape there.
I remember that two men approached me, I told them that I don't know those gay stuff and they were very understandable.

While counting few weeks left, I heard my name on the list of visited people. I didn�t know who come to see me. When I went to the visiting room. I saw Emily Shamangu. It was quiet a surprise because I wasn't excepting any visitors.

I really missed Alexander. I remember his adventure when he arrived in jail, he claimed to be a Congolese from a Congolese father and a Nigerian mother. All the Nigerian befriended to us because he looked more like a Nigerian physically but after few days they find out that he was lying. But that didn't stop us of making many friends, include Nigerians, South Africans, and few Congolese and may nations as far as Colombia and Brazil.

Then few days later, I was called again. This time it was Melanie. She was crying when she saw me and complaining: "Dicho, we were sent tree in South Africa and Lobo has left when he went overseas and we reminded two why you do this? She was right in my paternal family we were left two in South Africa.
I used to make sure that I balance my paternal and maternal family. I used to make sure that I stick to both rules.
He sat quiet for few minutes. She looks at me and told me: �you are already a rasta man?"
I realized that when I entered jail, I made dread lock. The one who did was my karate colleagues called Kumalo. I gave him 2 rand but he complained a lot that my hairs was difficult to make dread lock, I added again 1 rand.
He took the green soap they used to give us in jail, with a comb for many hours, he made the dread lock.
She then asked me: "where were you going?"
I told her: "Kazakhstan". She struggles to pronounce the word as I tried to explain that it was part of Russia and I was going via London.
She cried even more while the warders were watching us talking in French. She complained: Dish you are running mad. I knew that all the inventory stuff you wanted to invent will make you abnormal. Where were you going to sleep? Who do you know there?
I told her that I didn't care; I was prepared for a while to sleep in the street for a while before I got my way.
As long I was talking she keeps crying. It looks like my word was slapping her. She started shouting: �Dish your father is well respected in Congo former minister and the man who had the biggest pharmacy chain at some point in Congo. Your mother one of the top respected producer journalist in Congo and you don't reflect your parent personality"

I immediately told her: "That is their life and I have my life and I set my own dreams"
Then we argued on our differences. At the end she left me some money in my account there and said that we will talk once, I am realized. Her priority was to see me a free man.
While returning to my cells, the warders were telling me how my cousin who they thought was my wife because she was very concerned of me and told me how beautiful she looked.
Two days later, I got another call for visit. Strange how only few days left people started pouring to visit me. It was my uncle Salomon and my brother George who wanted to come with my sister Mamy but she couldn't make it because her daughter was sick.
Here many inmates were very choosy, we noticed when we used to chat among ourselves they didn't want to work for a meager (small) salary. They wanted the risk of making a lot of money in few minutes like breaking into a bank or cash and transit cars. Or Hijack cars...
The prison's cells were much cleaner these sides compare to the waiting trail side, it was not overcrowd and they were very few lice insect in the blankets.
There are the people that I was expecting to visit me early. I was still very angry with them as George told me that when I called him he was on his way to Maputo Mozambique and Salomon was in Zambia but got the message from his wife when he got back.

After those visit, I was counting few days left to be realized. I made it my home with interacting with many people. It is here really that I improved my Zulu in jail. Many words I got there was called Tostis tongue or Fanakalo style. I was expecting to get really a major inspiration from my days there but I got less than expected.
It is here that I saw the value of freedom. We could have everything in prison but freedom was always very important. I could see many people disoriented may be by the stress on living in a small space for many days and doing the same thing. The house that I compared to a boarding school wasn't a good place.
I got motivated that really I should take advantage of the freedom outside to realize many things.
I remember when I was leaving the correctional service at the queue for break fast the warders kept telling me how beautiful my wife was. Then another prisoner that I didn't know stick to me.
Then when I heard to go back to the hospital block and fill my last form to be freed that man still following me. All the doors the warders were opening the man was behind me. The warder let me pass because he said that he was going to the hospital block were he had a job.

When I reached there, I got my bag the man was still with me. We even started talking. Before I open my bag. He become like my servant choosing some clothes for me and ironing it. I quick understood that it was his way to make money.
He couldn't let me even touch my shoes. As he took them and wipe it nicely. Happy that I was I gave him 20 rand. That was quiet a lot of money in jail. Some male prostitute in jail were asking less than 5 rand.
I had at least of an idea in my short stay in jail of how life was like in custody. I knew how the court was like. I even realize that that the court was even boring than the hospital. Really, overcrowded. everybody stressed, many procedure�
In my short stay in jail in knew some of the gangs group such as the:
The 26s, the con artist who either cons you out of your possession or if you are a hard nut to crack you, plan to rob you. Alexander was robbed of his chain jewelry by Salim that was taken by the inmates.
The 28s are interested in homosexual activities with younger inmates who they call �wyfies� The man who approached me to teach him French and even one of the inmates in my cell wanted me to be an homosexual.
The big 5 who are like the eye and the eye of prisons authorities. They have a sophisticated method of communication to report things to orders. The man who claimed that he could help us to escape from jail. We learnt later that it was his job to persuade the newcomers and later report their intention to the orders.
The airforce RAF3 known as flight risk. They escape at slightest opportunity and in doing so they try not to injured or kill anybody. Like the man who warned Alexander not to sleep during day time because they were just waiting for an opportunity to flee prison.
The airforce RAF4, unlike the RAF 3 prefers leaving a trail of blood when they escape.
This was one of the parts of their strategy. If they are rearrested they would have face more additional charges and so would have to attend court. This would provide them with a further opportunity for escape while being transported to and from the court.
Then there is Fransmanne who do not belong to any gang group and are regarded as �sissies.�

Then I waited for a long time before the police van arrives to take me. It was at around 4 in the afternoon that finally the van arrived. It wasn't over for me even thought I was legal in the country.
When leaving the prison's fortified building, a police officer open a van for me and saying" 300 rand" I didn't answer him immediately. I got in the back of the van. There was a driver and another police officer. They drove and stopped by the bridge and told me:300 rand.
I told them that I have 150 rand. They drove for a while stopped again and said, give us 250 rand. I kept my price.
Then we agreed on 200 rand. I gave them 200 rand. They asked me where I was going. I told them that I am going to Pretoria. Then they decided to drop me in Tembisa so I will catch a mini bus to Pretoria.

The first thing I felt when the officers left me, I felt very dizzy. I sat for a while holding my bag on a bench. I started seeing people and cars passing around. If me who spend few days in jail could feel strange to interact in the society what about those who spend years in that facility?

After about 30 minutes, I took my bag and took the taxi named given to mini bus in South Africa while the small taxi were called meter taxi to Pretoria to live for a while for George and see what I will do.
My priority was to return to school, I didn�t have enough of studying. While in Pretoria, after about two weeks, my all clothes that I washed were stolen when I put it on the sun.
I cut my dread lock; I decided to return to my security job to make money and to look for sponsorship to get back to school.
It is this incident that motivated me to return to Johannesburg. I met my boss Andrew despite all he heard; he decided to hire me again.

The following day, I was posted in a suburb called Greenside. There was a house that was break in by robber 12 times a years, next to it was a house that has a gate always open but never witness a break in, the following house had also a security guard.

I meet a colleague who I supposed to replace the next day. I could see that he wasn't happy of leaving that post. We sat at around eleven in the evening. He started showing me the all around house. He pointed a place where to sleep. I told him immediately: " I don't think that they pay us for sleeping on duty"
He looks at me strangely and I noticed that I have just offended him and I tried to turn it in a jokes. He showed me a place under a tree in front of the house where to sleep when tired. A place very difficult to be caught off guard even by the supervisor or robber.
This house had one of the shortest walls I never seen, about 1 meters tall the wall. I remembered that when I arrived in South Africa most of the wall of houses where very short but because of the crimes, they built now long wall. But this one was still very short.
The house itself was quiet big, He shown me all around and the garage where I have to seat with my chair, the security radio plus the charger and
the panic button.
The next day, I had to work alone to my new post. I was happy that I had a permanent post now.
The owner of the house was called Mandy living with her tree children Gerald, Jonathan and Kerry.
Unexpected, in my first week I become friend to the children. I was really wondering may be because I was young or may be it happen just like this. We started talking a lot and share secret too.
Mandy especially in the weekend she used to return home in the early hours of the morning and always find me awake. She becomes my fan too. In a month we become like a family. There were just too special, the only post were a guard could, seat, chat eat in the same plate with the bosses.

I remember the day when I was seating in the garage at around two in the morning. A group of six robbers entered the yard. I saw them very well; I could even see some of them holding guns. I didn't have gun and karate couldn't help me.
They thought that I was sleeping may be. I used to sleep a lot during the day to be ready not to sleep at night. At night in the quiet moment I could switch on the light in the garage put on the radio start reading my school notes, books or write down some idea or book ideas.
I knew that those people were coming around the house and over power me. I pressed the panic button. We used to work in collaboration with the arm response security. At that time we worked we Sentry Company now called ADT.
I didn't have a gun with me and there was no use of working with a gun and sleep on duty because they may even overpower you and shoot you with your own gun protector. The most important thing to do was to not sleep on duty.
The arm response was slowly coming. I remember standing in the drive way praying my all life in South Africa in less than a minute I suspect: "God, my parent sent me here in South Africa to study not to die. Please give me a chance to return home and bless my family's members..."
It was all my life in South Africa. I was sent here to study. I had a strong desire to return home and see my friends, family members. I wanted to get the knowledge to open door in life. I had to take advantage of South Africa to build my life.
I could hear people walking like cat around the house. I first left my post. I jumped the other side of the wall in another yard. I said to myself that even the owner of this house will take me as a robber. I jump back in my premises.
I wanted to wait at the corner of the house now, to hit with a fatal kick the first man who will turn the corner. I wanted to make sure that one man stay down despite the object and gun he got.
Then I heard a telephone ringing. Suddenly all the robbers who were in the yard started jumping out of the yard. Running like mad cow. I even laughed for a while. I went back into the drive way. I then took the control radio to report the scene:" I saw 6 suspected robbers in the yard..."
Really the woman in the control room couldn't help me much. She was like: "Which colour of clothes do they wore. How many are there. How do they look like"
Many question, I couldn't even answer and a colleagues started shouting to that lady in the control room: "Someone is in danger and you are asking him which colour of clothes do they wore."
I stood silence and said to my self that I don't have to rely on this radio back up. First you have to defend yourself and after call for a back up. Then many guards in the night weren't happy too. Another man told me that you don't have even to speak much. Just scream: "Nyafwa" meaning: �I am dying". Another security told me on the radio that I have to save my life or even run not care about the materials because our human�s life is not insured while the material with look after are insured, the insurance company will pay back.
Then while waiting for a back up. I saw the arm response cars coming from all direction. They are the one who phoned the house to know if it was necessary for them to response. Then few minutes later my supervisors arrived on the scene.
Then the arm response security and even my supervisors advise Mandy to build a long wall and put electricity that will help too for security.

Few days later after this scandal. I wasn't expecting the robbers to return any day soon. They always take time to return to the same spot. One day while listening to the radio. I heard next door someone at the light. I say to myself that it is the owner who is changing globe. Then I realize that it wasn't the right time to change a globe. The neighbour owner not the side were the gate was always open. The neighbour should have the all day to change the globe. It was 12 hours in the evening. I then press the panic button hiding behind the short wall; I advance where the noise was coming from. Then I saw two men jumping in my yard now. Unfortunately one of them saw me and they started running. The back up was always late to arrive. It was impossible for them to arrive in less than a minutes.
I decided to follow and catch even one of them. I open the get got in the street started following them. I kept a distance of about 20 meters so even one of them could have turned and shoot. I made sure that even they shoot me; I get slightly injured not seriously wounded. I felt that I was able to get much closer to one of them.
Then at one corner of the street I saw one responding vehicle coming. I stopped him while trying to talk to him. I lost the sight on the robbers they took different direction. I got in the car and we started searching for the suspect. We only manage to get one.
When returned to my post I saw others response car. I then took the radio and call the office that we managed to get one suspect. The woman who was in the control room that day was good. She didn't ask me the colour or how the suspect looks like or which object they were carrying. She immediately calls the supervisors. In few minutes the supervisors and the police arrived on the scene.
It was amazing, later on in the second month on that post, they built a tall wall like all the houses around and they put electric fences. I knew already that it was the end of the contract but this family refused to let me go.
I remember Mandy once told my supervisors when they wanted to change me post that: "Without Dish no contract with you." I remember her for allowing one day to use the fire wood to warm myself when it was cold against the security rule. I remember that I used to watch European league match in her living room. I was fun of soccer and wanted to watch the big matches...
But my worry was the neighbour who didn't want to close his gate and had no wall at his yard. After him another house had a security guard. It was amazing how robber were not stealing. I remember the day I saw a man walking in that yard at around half past ten. I asked that man who he was, the man ignored me. Less than one minute after I asked me, I heard a gun shot. The man was shot in the thorax. But even if the owner was a good shooter, it wasn't safe for him to open the gate like this. I wondered that if a walking drunk man walk there, he will be shoot too.
Mandy hired me as her personnel bodyguard.
Mandy house joined many houses in the suburbs in South Africa were you don't see your neighbour with the long wall they were building. Is one of the changes I saw in South Africa from my arrival when the wall were shorts to the long wall where people cut even tie with their neighbours.

But I decided to return to my priority, school. January was approaching and it was the beginning of academic year.
Then she gave me a job in her company in Limbro Park. I don't know what really happened the first week of the work there. I had a slight headache that day but I end up feinting and decided to leave for good.

I started hard to look for sponsorship. I got JRS (Jesuit Response Service) a catholic organization who promised me to sponsor me and another private church for IT courses only.
Because the JRS procedure took long I decided to take the offer of the other church. I won't mention the name of the church because we didn't end well.
They sponsored me for two terms but when it mattered the most to complete the third level, I went to see the senior pastor with my distinction hoping to get a check for the next term. I heard me telling me: "I won't sponsor anymore foreigners"
I told him and shown him my document that I was legal and I already qualified to have the South African residence because of number of years I have in South Africa. He has already a certified copy of my documents. It only home affairs who was delaying to give me the residence permit or the South African nationality. May be they were too busy with endless files in their office.
I didn't release that the man was so serious and repeated the same words. Then I realized that he was serious. I told him: " God didn't create frontiers or borders."
Our discussion turns bad. I remember one of my last words to that man of God: "The South African Identity or any document or nationality wasn't a passport or ticket to heaven"
He was so serious out of the students he supported another student was from Angola his name was Fernando. He comes and his request was turned down.
I didn't witness much Xenophobia in South Africa until that day. In Katanga the church saved me but here the church rejected me. At that time I used to notice that people who were Xenophobic were not South African but those originated from neighboring countries. They languages were similar to South African dialects and it was difficult for people from North Africa to distinguish them to South African.
I remember that when we used to go to the security agency to get our salaries. We used to meet other colleagues who were asking us foreigners: " When are you going back home. You should return home. You take our wives, brings AIDS in South Africa and our opportunities..." Some were quiet friendly some not. "They kept asking me why African foreigner smell bad. Even if they bath. They smell bad especially in the armpit" It was not my first time to be asked that question. One of my former girlfriends once told me that before she fell in love with a foreigner, she was expecting that. .
Then another week, the police with the soldiers was checking foreigners in central Johannesburg. They were entering houses and all the street were full of the man in uniform.
I used to walk without even being asked a passport. Because of my light skin they always thought I was South African but I saw many of my colleagues, some who had Xenophobic talks running away from the men in uniform. It there I realized that they were not really South Africans. They were some time the kind of people who when you ask them were they are from, they will often tell you that one of they parent was from neighboring country and one from South Africa especially from the province of Kwazulu Natal.

There was two kind of foreigners in South Africa: The saw called Kwerekwere. We people from North and central Africa and couldn't speak the South African dialects and the people from neighboring countries. The second category was interacting quickly because they could easily speak dialect here.
Many used to deny there origins. If you are lucky they will tell you that one of the parent his from South Africa.

Kwerekwere for me was never an insult but a name to identify the foreigners. Even in Kinshasa Congo we used to call the western African as Dingari. In Zambia, I heard that they called foreigners Kasai because many Congolese there spoke Swahili. In South Africa people from central and north were called Kwerekwere or even Nigerian. May be the Nigerians were always on the news and there were many in South Africa.
Every community has name created to identify things and even foreigners and others words.

In Katanga, we used to call the western African Bahaussa from the Haussa popular tribe in the west Africa. We had many neighbours who were from the West Africa. But I witness one day when I was young. I was studying in a catholic nursery school. I saw many people stoning another man suspected of being a member of a syndicate who used to catch children kill them and sell the human part.

We used to be scared as child to walk alone because we were scared to be caught by those criminals. I always hear too how people are found dead with their human part missing. It believes that those part are used for superstition in South Africa too.

I was may be 4 years old or even less. My uncle Kaninda who fetched me at nursery school put me on top of his shoulder. I saw a man being mobbed with stones. Amazingly those people who were stoning him were just small school primary kid. Then my uncle told me that the man who was killed with stones was a Bahoussa. But many of our neighbours who were businessmen were Bahoussa. I believed that the man who was stoned was a bad one.

It was my origin becomes again a condemnation. I knew that foreigner do not deserve the best think. I knew already that foreigner do not have a choice. I knew that a beggar do not make a choice but take. But what I noticed is that xenophobia was growing in South Africa.

Then I rushed to the Jesuit organization to sponsor me. They had also their own agenda. They wanted to sponsor people of medicine related courses. Thank God that this time, my father got the opportunity to sponsor me, include my mother who moved to Paris were she kept working as a journalist.

Another man who motivated me to study the paramedic course was the sudden death of my grand mother who died when she feinted. I believed if the rescue system was developed she could have may be survived. The woman who was like my mother too. The grand father of my mother was an ambulance driver, but that time the rescue system wasn't developed in Congo. Disashi the most popular name in my maternal family since the first Disashi who was the former slaver trader in the late 1800's.
Another man who motivated me it was another doctor that I went to visit with a friend radiographer Jonas Key. When we went to visit that doctor there was a program on television E TV on the rescuing mission. The doctors regretted while watching the program. He was based in Congo and said: �If only young Congolese can study this kind of course it may help our country. I was driving one day from Likasi to Lubumbashi. I met another man involved in accident and the villagers were struggling to help him. I stopped my car and went to rescue the man and took him to hospital in Lubumbashi and the man died on the arrival"
I was wondering what that doctor was trying to say while he tried his best to save the injured. But he continued regretting: �I killed that injured man. I contributed to his death because we didn�t even know how to transport him and even to immobilize his colon. We transported him like a box rushing into the shop (Hospital)"
He insisted that we should try to study thing that do not exist in Congo so on our return we will contribute on the development of the country.

I think it is unfair not to mention my house moving in central Johannesburg. Especially after leaving Pretoria. Before I left for Pretoria I didn�t move much and see much. I arrived in South Africa lived for few days Ponte City in Hillbrow and now that tallest inhabited building of entire Africa has a advert on top of it. It has a coca cola advert, then now has The Vodacom advert.
Then we moved with Melanie and Lobo that time in Yeoville in Harrow Road. I heard that that street name have been changed. The building name was north hill mention a two floors building. Then we moved to Bedforview. I used to visit a paternal uncle called Simon Kabuyi in Hillbrow Helderberg (H) (note: USE BUILDING H, TO AVOID PROBLEMS) building then in Rosentville. I used to sleep there sometime and time to time I could go to Pretoria to visit my maternal family. Uncle Simon Kabuyi has returned with his family to Congo.
Then after Bedfordgarden I moved in Pretoria. In Pretoria I stayed with my maternal far uncle Tshimbombo and my brother maternal George. Time to time I used to sleep to my friend from Cape Town, Danuel.

When returned to Johannesburg, I stayed with my uncle Salomon Mulumba while working. Because we were using one room I decided to leave him and share flat with other men. That time he was in Berea.

I went to meet other fellow Congolese in Observatory. I never thought in my life that I will end up sharing room with other people. Since we arrived and we had a good financially support from my father Joseph Ilunga before is pharmacy chain was hardly hit by the competition from Asia. With little law to protect the local market, we were seriously hit too.

I recalled the days when we arrived from Congo or even in Congo were we had the privilege to own room alone. With plenty of space but now I had to share the room with many peoples. We had to collaborate with friend, sometime we were forced to leave room for one of us when he has a female visitor.

I had one think in mind despite the new challenges I had to meet, I just wanted to be next to Technikon actually called university of Johannesburg, and the paramedic MRI (Medical Rescue International) institute was using Technikon buildings. I couldn't afford to be far from school where I had to spend money for transport.

In this room we were four men sharing one room and two beds. We were eating together except my friend Kongolo that we were calling Sadam was a vegetarian. His brother Mulopwe and Freddie. We made sure that we cook rice and mill so everybody could eat. I used to like rice with Kongolo and the other loved pap made of mills. Each one of us as a day to cook, clean the plates and clean the room.
We used to clean the bath room and toilet in room turn. Include the garden too.

We stayed for about a month then the rent was raised. We used to pay 400 rand, each one contributing 100 rand for the room and the rent was doubled. We felt that we had to move because the owner of the house wasn't paying electricity. Some time we had to live for two days without electricity...

It was an old house with many rooms. Everything was transformed in rooms even the kitchen was a room. So there were about 12 people sharing different space as rooms. We used the toilet outside and cook in our own rooms.
The difference between Yeoville and Observatory is that Yeoville had many 3 floors building and while Observatory had small houses.
We were sharing a flat of two bedrooms. In there were people sharing too in the living room. I don't know how many people were in another room and the living room. I used to leave early for school then return later. Saturday and Sunday I was also visiting other people after the church service Sunday.

After disagreement on the rent increase we moved to Yeoville in a street called Becker Street. We meet another group of 3 men and we become 7 in one bed room but sharing two big bedroom and others were sleeping down.

After two months when we thought that everything was right Kongolo and his big brother had a fight late a night. It was a big fight as everybody played the referee to separate the brother. Many things has happen in the passed and that fight brought many conflict. I was very close to Kongolo that we were calling Sadam but I heard new stuff.

He blamed his brother for taking him to Congo, he was happily married and left two children. Her wife passed away sadly when he left Congo. She was taken some blood so their may put in one of her child and mystery after that she passed away.
I was shocked and sad by that news. The brother Mulopwe took him so they may flee with a big diamond stones. According to some eye witness Mulopwe was a diamond dealer, he got a huge stone of about 200 carats and the value was in millions of dollars.
Everybody was aware of Mulopwe treasure everybody wanted his hand on that stones. Kongolo who had a business and a law practice in Congo decided to rescue his brother so they may flee with the stones. It wasn't easy the general, the province premier and many authorities wanted that stone that Mulopwe got.
They managed to flee with the stone but unfortunately in Zambia, everything went wrong. A certain buyer disappeared with the stones and believed to be in the USA.
They couldn't return back home as they were wanted. The diamond business was legal in Congo but when you get a big stones, everybody wanted his hand and share on that stones. In Congo they called it �the right of the eye�
Everyone who saw it or even heard about it had to get a certain percentage from the authorities to the militaries officer.
Mulopwe had to leave his wives and many children plus many houses and things.

Then the fight was unstoppable. We had to split, everybody decided to leave with Mulopwe the next morning and Kongolo was left alone. I decided to leave with Kongolo.
In every family they are always fight, I was convinced that it was moment and in few days and months the brother will come back together.
We started looking for a new room. My priority was to get an room just around the school so I won't have to pay transport but walk to the college. We went to the popular places where the house�s notice where stick. We didn't get any available house. The noticed were often stuck next to big shops.
So I decided to move down in another Suburb called Betrams, after two days we got a room in First Street in that suburb. It was a house that had four rooms. The owner of the house was a Zimbabwean but married to a South African woman.
Our first impression is that the house wasn't over crowd. The owner had a big room with his four children. The other room was occupied by 3 Rwandese women. Another room that had no windows at all was occupied by a couple and we occupied the smallest room. It was enough only for the bed and nothing else. I am sure that it was built as storage of the house. The owner young brother was sleeping in the kitchen with other peoples. We will talk later about the other people.
The house had a big wall outside and it was quiet clean. In this suburb many people used to flee crime and some even used to leave they house behind. They were many house that people simply took and stayed. Many of those illegal occupied house had no electricity.
I couldn't tolerate to end up in those kinds of houses. While searching for the room we even got 4 of those kinds of the house. The first man to enter those kinds of house automatically become owner. But with a price because in few months the electricity was cut off. I even met a Congolese group who occupied this kind of house.
Living without electricity in a big city wasn't my dream. The room in those house where very cheap.
In central Johannesburg each month people used to move. You will see people transporting their belonging and bed at the end of the months and beginning of the months.
Luckily our new place had a legal owner. Our new owner charged us 300 rand for the small room. What was good with Kongolo is that money wasn't a matter. The one who has money that time pay the rent and even buy food. He was a vegetarian and me I liked rice or even bread. We were spending less on food.
He was a lawyer by profession and he was in late twenties. He liked reading a lot and was doing research writing books. We had plenty in common. He was also a very dedicated Christian. I never regret my decision to move with him. Staying two in that room even cemented our friendship more.
On top of that in Betrams was living a childhood friend David. We used to play soccer together in colt of Lupopo. He was a keeper, her wife Mireille become friend. She is the one often who used to cook for us. David was a mechanic and truck driver.
I wasn't worry at all even if they send me money later in the month. Mulopwe to survive used to sell bags in shoes in Pritchard street in town. Every time I used to pass there he used to care about his brother. Time to time he used to give me money too.

Mulopwe was just a special man. He used to care for everybody; he wanted to open a Orphelina called Orphimbu combination of his surname Mbuyi and Orphan. I used to help him for the taping and the internet for his project. Everybody he knew who were in need of money he uses to give too.

In the notorious suburb we witness many crimes and robbers on street. They have pointed us gun many time. The secret was never to resist once in the robbers hands. We didn't know who was robber of not. It was advised to walk in the busy streets instead of isolated street.

We were always look around and avoid a group of men approaching us. Sometime change side of the road quick. Sometime we used to make sure to have few money on you so if it happen they catch you they take money. Some robbers once angry of not finding money or cell phone on you can just stab you or shoot you.
Pointing guns on us didn't make us weak but made us stronger. The fear was disappearing in us. It becomes part of life.

Some robbers were just ordinary people. Another colleague of mine in the I.T computer technology school who had a job used to rob people when he was off. We were studying IT=computer technology together. They robbers do not often rob the people they know. If they rob people they know they could make sure to kill him so he doesn't report them to the police.

I think the major challenge the police had in the big city is that it was overcrowd and the police were just outnumbered. The house meant for 5 people had more than 20 peoples.

The owner of the house had a mini bus. He used to go to Zimbabwe every week. On his return he always comes with people. If he arrives at night the passengers sleep in the minibus. Then we noticed that they were other people who were staying with us for a quiet a long time.

Those were people who still owe him money. He will keep them until they family members pay all the amount. Those people were illegal immigrants.
I remember one day I was from a shop in the afternoon I saw the owner chasing another young man in street. That man owed him money. He helped him to enter South Africa.
He had two co workers. I don't know what was happening, in the morning we could see the bullet all over the place were he used to park the car. We knew he had many guns even his young brother who lived there had a small gun he used to hide on top of the cupboard.
Sometime in the evening when his young brother use to go out. We could hear a gun shot, then in less than two minutes we used to see in the kitchen the young boy who was about 17 or 18 years old entering with a women bag. I used to see him often with women bag. My worry was that I never know if those bullets were shot on people or in the air?
we used to chat a lot with that boy but were not talking about his business. We tried many time to tackle this subject but he was avoiding and disappear when we talk about it.

At that time, my girlfriend Portia who was a Sangoma or traditional healer lived two street away. I remember that I met her through my colleague Prosper. They were sharing the same house. I never knew her profession until we get involved. The only time I knew the profession is when she once comes to visit me. Kongolo asked her which church she was going? Instead she got angry, and then later told us of her profession inherited from her ancestor. Then I realized that I used to see her with a lot beds on her body.
That didn't scare me, in fact made me so curious, I wanted to learn more about her profession. Kongolo I remember was so scared of her; he prayed that we broke up as soon as possible. I had many friends but Kongolo was my memorable best friend. We become more as a family.

The owner of the house sometime could keep some people behind the house for days until he got money. But one day I remember another boy managed to escape. I wondered how he managed to jump the wire on top of the big wall and disappear. The house had a long protecting wall with fences on top and makes very difficult for all the illegal immegrant taken from Zimbabwe to flee. They had to be realized only when they finish to pay them the entire amount of money due.

We witness one day how the Zimbabwean tenant was abusing his South African's wife with whome they had four children. We saw how he was beating her the entire night. We couldn't even intervene because the man was armed with guns. One day he hit his wife because she had a business affair with a Nigerian and a Congolese man and lost the money. We could hear from our room how the women was beaten crying and ask for forgiveness. We thought that the women will die. In the morning, she had bruises and swollen. Her face was unrecognizable.

After months in that yard, we saw at around nine in the afternoon, the land lord come to ask for the rent money. The land lord knew also the Zimbabwean, he come to ask money with securities with guns. We later heard that the land lord had a security company. After a fears discussion, he promised to return in few days. He was living at that house for about 4 years. We saw how the tenant and the house owner�s securities guard exchanging words and ready to shoot at each other. And they finally agreed to stay for one month free of charge and move at the end of the month.

Shortly he went to Zimbabwe and returned with 7 women. The women were aged between 13 years old and 20 years old. He kept them too in the house waiting for their relatives to pay the money.
He made his own problem ours too. He kept captivity those women and wasn't even able to feed them.
Before we realized that the women were not fed, we were even to felt in love with the two elders in that group. Portia and me relationship was on and off the time we met those Zimbabweans. Then we realized that the women who were captive were not even eating.
We could witness this misery; we were now forced to share food with the immigrant. In our culture sharing was part of it and we didn't regret. But our worry was that the men had no pity for the women. They claimed that they were another car that was stuck. Then the tenant of our property that I call owner took them to Johannesburg.

While the women were sleeping in the kitchen, few days later he decided to realize the youngster one. He took her as the domestic worker. The relatives of those women said they didn't have the kind of money he was asking for.
Two months we were still with the same women. Until the tenant and the land lord agreed to terminate they contract.
We decided to leave this house with our two want to be lovers. The reason we delayed to fell in love with the immigrants is that we felt that timing wasn't right. It will look like we took advantage of the situation to grab them. Our sacrifices will be turn to evil. We only hoped that once the women are freed we can then make our moves.
It was frustrating for us because the women too felt in love with us. We were proud of our approach.
Before we move from this house we agreed with the tenants, the two women who were sisters about 20 years and 18 years old to take them.
But the day of leaving the tenant changed the decision; he didn't want to realize them. Then the two women were weeping begging the tenant to let them go with us.
We were watching a sin where the women were taken by force in the moving truck. The elders resisted, her clothes was torn calling our names. The tenant aids were hitting the women with the back of their gun on their heads: �shout up� The women wanted to follow us. We already made a plan to get two beds one for me and Kongolo and one for the two women. I even contacted Mireille to find us a curtain so we may separate our room: one side for the women and one side for us.

Before leaving the house, the owner opened all the water tabs. Warm and cold water and told us not to close the tabs. The water already was in all the bedroom. We decided to delay our moves little bit. It was Friday the land lord could eventually come in his house Monday. That water supposed to run for two days. It was a way to revenge.
About ten in the evening he finally took all his belonging leaving us the locker to close the gate.

We were not worried because we moved in the same street. And we could even leave anytime. We first closed all the water tabs, we imagined how the house will look like after about tree days, then we took our belonging, close the gate and leave the house.

Mulopwe as I expected decided to join us in the new room that we got. I knew that soon or later Mulopwe and his brother Kongolo will reunite. I was so happy to get back together. Mulopwe already was in his forties.

The worry wasn't over because the room we got was big with two beds but we suspected that the news tenant who claimed she has bought the house didn't look like someone who can get money to buy and house.
This house was big with five big bedrooms and were we had one room. The problem here was that the toilet wasn't good and there were no socket to put a bulbs. There was no hot water too. Even in our room but we used an electrical extension to put the bulbs. There was no kitchen as the kitchen was transformed into a room. The toilet was broken and was not flashing. We had use a bucket to pour water in the toilet and it was full of humidity even thought we were in summer.
There we agreed to pay 700 rand about 120$ for that big room.
She the owner lived in a duty annexes at the back of the house.
The annexes had two other room were people rented. It wasn't overcrowded because each room had about two to tree people only.
The house was very duty; it has even a unused duty swimming pool at the back. But it has a prosperous to be a mansion if they fix it.

We were wondering were the woman tenant owner got money to buy a house. Apparently she has no work and had no business. We suspect that it may be an abandoned house too but had electricity. The women owner was a South African.
Our worry come true, one day when I was just from the college while entering the house, I find a another woman who claimed to be an agents. I met the two women already in hot dispute: �It is my house I bought it", the agent responded: "no the owner of the house fled before the house was sold. He fled crimes in this area and has given me the documents to sell the house"
I was holding my beg while watching the two women, then their started insulting each other, then they touched each other and were about to fight. We started separating the two women with other two people who were renting in that house, entering in the middle of the two women while the drivers of vehicle passing were curiously watching the scene. Our house here had no wall so everything was viewed from the people in street.

The agent agreed to leave the woman stay until the end of the month and there was about two weeks left. I didn't want to look for another room again. I wanted stability; it was difficult to get a comfortable house at a cheap price. We had to accept the challenge we meet.
I sad to Kongolo and hoped that my tenant was right, and that she owned the house.
Then unexpected two days before the end of the months the so called owner left the house without telling us anything. We were left wondering what was going on. One day left we started looking for another room. It wasn't easy sometime to get another room easily.
Then Mulopwe decided to take us to her first house, were he lived with Kongolo when arrived. Mado, the woman who was renting was a Congolese, he knew them very well. It was still in Betrams in 8th Street.
She gave us a room at the back of her house. The challenge we met was that our room door wasn't closing. We had to leave our belonging at anybody merci. There was a dog who wasn't always in the yard. He was always out looking for food in the dustbin.
I enjoyed this place it wasn't overcrowded. The tenant lived with her tree children and his husband a business man was in and out of the country. He was selling traditional craft from many African countries.
I miss her children who got used to us. They were spending many times with us if we are around.
Then I remember in Christmas 2003. We went to visit another Congolese; it was Christmas days coincidence with his birthday party. It was like a double celebration. Already in a small Congolese community with people from different nationality. They were reproaching me of not hanging a lot with Congolese but mixing a lot with South Africans. I tried to explain that it was normal because we lived in South Africa and the majority of people were South African. They said that it was important to be in the Congolese community, to keep my root and that it always home boys who rescue others in a foreign land once in trouble.

I decided to balance, in attending some important Congolese gathering too. I wasn't a fan of Coca Cola instead I drank at this gathering a lot Fanta. Mulopwe was in term with many people drank a lot Coca. They bought big bottle of drink and everybody were served from those bottles. He wasn't a beer drinker. After Fanta after the meal I drank one bottle of beer. My friend Kongolo joined us later at the gathering. There was about 40 people in that gathering. We returned back home late and the 26th we wake up at around eight in the morning by the talking of Mulopwe. �Alleluia Dish" Mulopwe started talking telling me that is going to preach the word of God allover the world.
I remember Kongolo telling his brother:" Have you smoke the Ganja (Mariguana)?"
I reproached Kongolo for a while that there was nothing wrong with what he was saying. It is good to preach the words of God in the world.
Then I started realizing that they must be something wrong with Mulopwe. He was talking about the gospel, prophesizing and was talking nonsense now.
I remember he took his cell phone saying: "Hello God, I heard you. God can you speak loudly your last sentence?"
At this point I knew that Mulopwe wasn't good anymore, something has gone wrong.
We tried with Kongolo to try to return to the normally but he kept shouting and talking many confused things.
We decided, to go and see my nearest friend David and her wife Mireille. On our return just before eleven in the morning. We could hear from far a man screaming: "Alleluia and preaching to himself". The tenant of the house was outside scared to enter our room. She started talking to us: �I know very well Mulopwe, he cannot handle Ganja. When he arrived here, he saw one day people smoking Ganja in a park. When that group left, he took the small peace they left and smoked by curiosity. He was drank for two days. Did he smoke some Ganja?"

Apparently the last two days we were with him and we didn't see something like that. Then the tenant confessed that this was more than what he witnesses in Mulopwe arrival. Kongolo could back the tenant that his brother was allergic at any kind of drug. He could get drank even if he smell that smoke. He confessed that his brother suffered from heavy headache before in his life but never saw something like this.

We could hear the man jumping and throwing thing in our room. We were joined by a young friend pastor who come to visit us. When we decided to enter the room now. We find him he was already naked. We had to run fast and cover him with a blanked not to offend the two women who were with us.

Mulopwe tried to resist but we over powered him. He started telling to the friend pastor: " Pastor Kombe please sing me a song God is good" I decided to run to Portia who was a traditional healer to help us too. She come with me and saw Mulopwe and she wasn't even able to perform her ceremony. Mulopwe was just unstoppable. We decided to wait and see what will happen. It was even difficult to take him to the hospital too.

In the evening other people come after hearing the news include the man who organized the double party in a Christmas day. He was accompanied by two men from the Congolese Province of Kivu. I could hear aside the two men talking in Swahili not aware that I knew Swahili: " I was also very drank yesterday to the party. I only drink Coca but I was very drank." The other man two supported him" Me two I was drank, I suspected that they put drugs in the drink"
They were not aware that understood that language because we talked in French and Lingala a language spoken in Kinshasa.
Kongolo once told me that some people used to put drug in drink especially in the bottle of Coca to make people drank. I kept quiet because I knew that once I reveal what I just heard it may lead to a fearful fight and we didn't had any proof. But the sudden change in Mulopwe kept me wondering.

All night Mulopwe kept talking it only the 27th December late in the night that Mulopwe become normal. But from there he wasn't eating a lot. I remember that he used to like meat, every time he used to return from his business he made sure that he has a meat with him and his brother Kongolo was the opposite because he was not eating meat.

In January, he started loosing weight and lost appetite, then he beginning of February Mulopwe restarted again. This time he was disappearing from the house. Every evening they will call us and tell us that he is in a park talking with people. Then we had enough Kongolo brought him to hospital.

The second day of Mulopwe in Hospital, we got a phone call from hospital where they wanted Kongolo to report as soon as possible to the hospital. I remember analyzing with Kongolo the timing of that call and we knew that something went wrong. What was more disturbing is that they couldn't find anything at the hospital.

As expected Mulopwe left us. The man who used to be in good term with everybody and helped everybody with the few he was earning. What was bad is that he was determined to return home to be reunited with his family regarding his trouble with authority because of the diamond stone. He was ready to live anytime because he made already a big parcel for clothes for his wives and children.
It was a shock to Kongolo who recalled how Mulopwe called him and how they escaped the soldier and many people wanting to get that stone.
It was an unbelievable for me, it was really my first time that a man we leave with and share the same bed die in my presence.

The funeral was sad too because when Mulopwe died his relatives from rich neighboring come. While the people who interacted with Mulopwe lived in the poor suburbs, there weren't happy to see those rich people wanting to assist after Mulopwe is dead. When he was struggling they were not there with him.
At some stage Kongolo the brother of Mulopwe suspected drug put in the bottle. We chatted one night. He said to me that they were no need to take any legal action. We had no proof, may be his brother died from a natural disease. Even if we have to talke legal action it won't bring back Mulopwe just waste of time and money. We decided to close this chapter.

Two months after this tragedy, the house in which we were renting was sold and we had to live. This time luck wasn't on our side, we didn't get any available room. Sometime we used to get expensive room that we couldn't afford me and Kongolo. Time run out at some point I decided to join my uncles but I didn't want to leave that way Kongolo.

Then when we were out of idea we met another man called Mohamed and told him that we were desperate for a room and that must be near Johannesburg University. All our belonging were out in the street, we weren't even able to go far for fear that we may loose them.
Then my colleague Prosper and Marcel gave us. Marcel was living with his family and Prosper's house had many prostitutes around and we knew that in that environment we couldn't resist to all the temptation. Marcel wanted us to live with him but we didn't know the reaction of his family members. I am really thankfully with all those good friends and colleagues.

At around seven in the evening, we decided to take Mohamed offer to move to Hillbrow. Betrams and Yeoville weren't notorious as Hillbrow. But all were close to my college. Kongolo was doing plenty of research and was in all kind of library and weekend he had a peace of job in a market.
I liked central Johannesburg because people of different nationality easily interact. The sad side bad and good people were all mixed in the overcrowd suburb.
Amazing in a small spaces full of building lived half a millions peoples.

We called David who drops us in Hillbrow. Following Mohamed, it was at Herderberg building (use the name H only to avoid trouble because of criticizing the building). I remember that building when I used to visit Uncle Simon. A 20 floors clean building. But this time, I find plenty of people by the entrance, it was like a market. Thing has changed in the building that had less than 5 people in a apartment.
This reminded me of the drama I once met when I went to see someone at the first building called Ponte city. The building has no lift and the lift wasn't regular. I had to walk on the stair to 47 levels to see that man, likely 10 floors were garage and I had to climb 37 floor. I wasn't expecting this to happen. It was in 2002, but I am sure that the situation as improved as I could see some change of willing to secure and improve the service. The tallest apartments building was still a proud of the city.

Change, but the only positive thing is that crime dropped compared when we arrived in South Africa. The drama of seeing people jumping dead people just shot was rare but still it was a notorious suburb.

We stayed outside the building for about one hour until we got the opportunity to enter. We left even our beds in Betrams, we could take it. We didn't know what we were expecting. We only took two sponges. We were not the only people to leave beds. Each end of the months many peoples used to leaves their bed. We knew that if we really need a bed we will always pick it some where or buy one. David had a small car not able to carry all those stuff. We took the computer, our documents, our books, clothes, stoves and few plates.

Following Mohamed, we took the lift until to the fifth floor. Mohamed went leaving us for about 20 minutes outside the lift. We went to talk with the tenant of the apartment.
While waiting we saw a young girl at about 8 or 9 years old passing by. She looks 8 or 9 years old in my eyes. She had a big stomach like if she was pregnant. I remember telling the worry Kongolo: "Look this young girl with a big stomach like if she was pregnant. She put some thing into her stomach"
Kongolo look at the girl and told me: "Yuri, I don't know really. I don't have time to think now"
He used to call me by my research name: Yuri Gargariga or Tshigoma (Disashi, bullet in Swahili but Tshigoma meant gun Kasai)
Then Mohamed told us to come with him. We took our belonging and entered one of the apartments. We find about 10 people in the kitchen. Everybody was cooking, then he shown us to wait in the living room. The living room was already divided in four. It was separated by curtains. In that desperation we find tree men in that living room who were like angry to see us. We tried to greet them they answered lazily. Difficult to describe the living room but the most impressive symbol was the picture of the Congolese opposing leader Tshisekedi Wa Mulumba, he was also know as the first Congolese lawyer and the father of opposition even thought he refused to participate in the first multi party election in Congo at the wall. And the room was like a store room.
We struggle to even put our belonging in the living room. I was wondering that were is the room where we will be living?

Kongolo was in silence. All the picture shown on television wasn't interesting us. I wondered how we will read or work with the computer in that house.
Few minutes later, we saw people coming and moving away the soffers (lounge). I prayed that we don't sleep in that small space. A curtain both side, I could hear other people the other side. My first thing come into my mind was: "How will we breathe in that space.
It was clear that it was our new room. Then few minutes later the tenant come and told us to pay 100 rand each for the small space. It was very cheap and Hillbrow was much close to my school but we were not expecting this space.

I took, Kongolo outside for a while and we discussed and decided to take the offer for that month and look for another place. But we didn't know that a month will turn to one year.
I must be honest that this was one of my best years financially despite the sponsor I had. My mother was supporting me and the other brothers and sisters since she moved to Paris. She was able each month to help his children financially. All of us where to school study to be pilots, medicine, marketing... My father also supported me when I need some money. Not forgetting uncles...But I made sure that I don't disturb them he asking them a lot of money. I was conscience that they have other people to look beside me. We were in the family. I make sure that they help me after many months not each time. I made sure that I live in a place where I pay less the rent and I don't spend money for transport. I make sure to keep some money too for demo and keep money for the coming months too. On top of that I was living with Kongolo who was also sponsored time to time by his brothers and sisters. Despite the earning of his job we had many think in common and good understanding making us leaving without troubles.
We didn't have problem regarding money. When we have to pay rent, the one who has cash with him at that time take care of the rent. Even for food. We didn't make any kind of account like I spend this amount of money and you have too to repay me some how in paying too this amount of money.
While chatting we saw that young girl entering that apartment. She was not playing but she was pregnant. She was not 8 to 9 years old like I pretended but she just turned 12 years old. She had a small body it why she looked young to my eyes.
I recalled my female friend Tshibangu. They were alone but didn't choose the sex to make a living but got other way to struggle. I recalled those female how they had good moral respecting their culture.
I regretted so much with Kongolo. The tenant lived in that house with 2 girls, his four relatives and 6 grand children. Some where in the main bedroom with him. Some sleeping in the corridors, some in kitchen. We were sleeping with 3 men in our space. The other side of the curtain was a couple with two children from Mpumalanga a province of South Africa. The other side was a group of want to be professionals players from Kwazulu province of South Africa who were 5, then next to them was another curtain were lived tree people who were one from Zimbabwe and the others two from South Africa but they identity was still much a mystery to us.
The main room in that apartment was the tenant with the some grand children. In the kitchen women were sleeping there. In the corridor some where sleeping there. The other room was occupied by tree Nigerians with their girls� friend. What was good their girl friend were not permanent, they used to come and go.
It was really difficult to bath. I used to wake up at 4 in the morning bath. In the morning the water was cold and they were many people wanting to bath. If you bath that time you will hear someone knocking at the door. Five was already late to bath.
The money we were paying was contributing helping the tenant to pay the rent. Many apartments were in that state. Plenty of people. I can say if each apartment had about 15 to 20 peoples. The 200 apartments building could be home to about 3000 to 4000 peoples.
What I liked is the interaction of different nationality in the building and area. I then noticed that many students too lived in that building and area.
In that space we were living the neighbours in the curtain were also listening to the television and music.
Our first challenge was to adapt to the smell of our new room. It was a much cleaner place but it was just a different environment.
I used to make sure to study in the library and do my home work there. Return at around six in the afternoon to avoid the noise. Weekend was worse people lived like if there is no tomorrow. Loud noise and music and gun shot here and then. Outside it was dangerous in the late night but people were not afraid of walking. Life was just too fast here.

Then our friend radiographer Jonas Key who was waiting to present the exams to get the license to work in South Africa. He worked in Congo for 15 years and decided to relocated. In mi time he used to take people picture or photograph to survive. He was also very disparate of a room and joined us in our space. His name was Jonas Key. He was our big brother and his experience and advices help us a lot.

The other Zimbabwean and two South African according to them were not walking but were standing on the corners. They used catch people take money, cell phones and others things. They had their own corners every criminal had their corners to operate. They used to target people early in the morning, those going to work and in the afternoon.
They used to work hard especially weekend and the end of the months to get money to pay rent...

We used to chat; I even went once by curiosity to watch them in action. I used to stand at the other side of the building and see how people we were living with were stealing. The first thing I noticed is that they were so serious. They face wasn't the one I knew; they look hungry and very serious. Following people pulling their knife and gun. They used to stay both side of the road. Time to time helping each other to steal.
I couldn't believe that we shared the same apartment.

The pregnant young girl who I will call R, two month later collapsed and was taken to hospital and gave birth to twins by cesarean. I was happy for her hoping that she will change. I even confronted the boy who impregnated her when I met him. He used to live in the same building but in another apartment now. When he impregnated her he used to rent in that same flat. I told him that he was lucky to be a free man for sleeping with under age girl. But the man added more worry to me. He was about 18 years old, he told me: "I did like all the boys did." According to many things we heard later, she had many boy friends and the man who was pointed out succumbed because he was living in that house.
I was happy that she gave birth. I then decided to help her parent so she may return to school. I used to take R to different school and got her a school but later we heard people complaining to see her in the stairs with other boy. Then murmur come that she was visiting different boys in the building. Six months after giving birth she was again pregnant. She gave birth and the nurses decided to give in adoption the new baby because she didn't seems to know the value of children. The last time I heard about her is that she was again pregnant and lived this time with another man. It looks like each year she has to give birth. We were worried that her jobless parents had to look after the twins she gave birth. They were not even South African to have a children support grant.
Sometime they say that: �the one who drink before will drink again� I felt myself stupid spending my time in trying to advise her and at the same time try hide to secure a school for her so she may get back to school.

Unexpected, Kongolo fail in love with one of the tenant daughter. The elder one her name was N not really name. I decided to identify them with only N. You will accept with me that I don't have the right to reveal their identity.

She was 17 years old and once married to a Nigerian who had a clothing shop in Hillbrow but was arrested for the illegally activity. Then another man who was in 50 or even 60 years old from Cameroon married her once we were there. She was beautiful, skinny body and attractive face. She looks at innocent. I was shock when she wanted to marry the man from Cameron. Kongolo accepted that fact that the woman she dreams of making her future with was to be taken. My concern was that old man passed was not known. The difference of age wasn't that good. The big man could die any time and leave her with children. Accepting her to be married an old man was to throw him in window life.

I decided one day to talk to his father, to see if he can try to stop the wedding to over aged man. I didn't have in mind the intention of my friend. Kongolo already decided to leave the N. he heard many things from people and decided to change his mind.

I asked his father if he knew the past life of that man? He told me that he trusted him and have telephones of his relatives overseas. I witness, the wedding knowing that it won't last. The man from Cameroon went to business trip and never returned. All the phones numbers left were not going through. The young beautiful woman waited for long and later she got married to a man from Tanzania. Quiet amazing at the age of 18 years old married tree times.

After 6 months of staying there. Those two woman big sister arrived. She was in her 20's and looks more mature, beautiful too. I will call her T. The woman T when arrived from Congo, I saw her and decided to date her. She had some quality I wanted maturity. Two days after her arrival I was dating her when I heard murmurs that her parent already ahs arranged a man for her. The man was more successful than me and the family was in need of someone to help them financially.

My sadness is that this family had no way out to poverty. Trying to meet the rent demand brought many disasters in family. Their priority was to afford to pay the rent but at the high price. I think everybody would like in a comfortable place but the reality of life sometime may forced you to live where you don't want to be.

I thought it was a joke until, I started seeing a man coming late to visit her. Her parents were aware that I wanted to marry her for real. I couldn't believe that they may do something at my back. Before I talked to the woman I chatted with her mother. She said that it was for the woman to decide. The man who was coming to visit her was apparently stable. I quick noticed that he has a blessing of her parents and quick left he.

The challenge that I met is that lady T wanted me to continue with her or to beat the other man. Beating not fight physically but convinced her parent to dump the other man. Beating was to show to her parent that I had more money than the other. I knew that as a student I could afford. I had to wait my turn. I loved her but I have to accept that deception. If she wasn't able to make a proper decision, I wasn't able to help her. The other man was much older than me and needed the most a wife than me.

After a year Kongolo got a job in Sun City, some hundred mile away of Johannesburg. He has to leave me and left soon afterward he got married to a South African woman. Then I realized how serious he wanted to get married. Jonas Key passed the radiographer exam and was immediately hired.

I had one dream to save my second dream. I lost my first dream to be a priest and I wasn't ready to loose my second dream. I almost lost it when I wanted to travel to Kazakhstan end up in jail. I just wanted to be part of a space organization. My second dream was always to be a researcher. For me writing books and songs were too part of research and inventory.

Really to be far from home was always a torture of the soul even thought you change a Nationality or succeed in another land. It was always a torture wondering all the friends and family that we lost contact. Being away from place you grow up. On top of that not being able to see your loved one. Not forgetting mourning alone when you get some sad news of friends and family members that you loose. I really missed my cousins: Meta, Munanga, George Kapitene (captaine), My grand father Disashi, Great grand mother Mutoka. The only human I saw very old when young and left her very old and many others people we lost...
One of my true breaks come when I met Kent a member SETI institute/NASA astrobiology institute team. For me to be member of a special organization according to my dream was more than being a president or a king. After many interviews over a period of almost tree years with Kent and the other members and with my CV he helped me to connect me in that organization. I got his phone number from a radio interview in Radio 702 or Cap talk. I don't regret to have listened to that interview.
All the combined courses I studied and especially all those crazy adventure as a young kids in inventing what was like a kind a form of entertainment help me to secure a position.
It was a dream comes true for my mother Mutoka. The first she told me when she heard the news was that: " You were named Yuri Gargarina when I wore you astronomic look alike clothes when you were a baby and people called you after the Russian first man in space."
I don't remember where than name come from. They only think I remembered I was called Yuri Gargarina at the catholic sponsor inventory show. We used to have funs presenting our invention. There were no price but the show was enjoyable. Many people and group used to come in the big holiday with their invention. We used to work in group, what was attractive in my group is that my mother used to get us what we needed to create things and I was working with Jules Kabila who was about 12 years old that time and much older than us. And we had two other boys Kabeya and Simba. But Kabeya and Simba were not much committed sometime. Some used to make slow running small cars, some small robots, self made LPs player, Radio players,... We used to work in our garages for the entire years for that show at the catholic hall in Lubumbashi.
I remember to have presented our group calculator machine with two digits only using old machine writers and many buttons. It was slow and very complicated for others to use but it was a fruit a years of work. It had only two digits and using only + and - operations. There was not enough space for the: and multiply operations.
I remembered that we presented a small toy to fly about 10 meters flying airplane that I called: "le voyageur" with a freind who was much older than me called Kabila. We were using all part taken from different old machineries and electronic toys. We used to take the entire aftrenoon after school to assemble and re put together. Making many experiences in the playing ground before presenting our adventure.
I remembered to have presented a generator got from old electronic machine to help me to run a toy car with batteries.
I remembered to have presented many others self made object for fun some of them made in group especially with Jules Kabila. It where my friendship with priest started, my family where not catholic follower. It where I experience the freedom of religion. My family let me attend the catholic teaching and slowly created a dream in me to be a priest.
It was a friend of Mutoka who connected me in that inventory club. He was an ex catholic priest that I was calling: "Papa Monsieur Abb�". I remember Mom used to tease him that him an ex Catholic priest had already two wives and wanted to get more to catch up all the times he lost as a single man when he was a priest.
The last time I heard about Jules Kabila is that he was still always involve in researches and inventions.
I remember that he was still having the priest character: speaking slowly and all the words were control and he used to walk very slowly too. He was my private tutor and decided to take me in that environment. In that club everybody had a scientific code and Papa Monsieur Abb� brought that Yuri Gargarina name there.
For my mother my dream was to be a scientist not a priest. I tried hard to run away from the inventory and search dream. But it look like even if we run away from our dreams the dream never run away from us.

I was from those days that I felt in love with researches. My long stay in South Africa was not for a better life. I felt that I could have had lived much better in Congo and managed the father's company and farm. But being far from family helped me to ease any pressure and helped me to accomplish some of the dreams. I felt that my quick return to Congo could jeopardize my dreams. Far from parents and family, helped me to get use of the self freedom I had to make my dreams comes true. My father come to look for me twice to South Africa so I return home but I let him down but promised him to return home one day. He comes with propositions that I rejected. He was disappointed telling me: "we want you to return home for a better life, you don't want. I propose you to join your mother and other family�s members in France where you can have a better life but you don't want. What do you want?"
Sometime I reached a point where dreams were much more important than materials gains. To be able to do what you love the most was a big blessing.

I left central Johannesburg when Mandy decided to give me a room. It was just unbelievable that our friendship that started long ago will provide me with room before the arrival of better days. The suburb was much safer and much quiet and it suited me do my research and writing. I had a big pressure off, paying the rent. I used to pay the rent in just working once a week in the garden. We had build a big relationship since the day I was a security guard and created friendship with Mandy and her family. She becomes a big part of my life. I remember that I was once in agony and very sick, lost conscience but the only thing I remembered was Mandy's cell phone number and I managed to talk to her in that state. Just hearing her voice brought courage to hang up on life.
I remember when I was thanking her she told me: "Dish, you have created an unforgettable mark in our heart. You created yourself this opportunity by your commitment to work and hard work when you were our security and private bodyguard."

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

Before the Rwandese genocide, and Darfour (Sudan) genocide, there was the Katangese Kasai genocide. Where the government who suppose to protect people incite people to violence.

But should I say that I really have suffered in my life? I think that I didn't suffer in my life. I never really sleep hungry without anything I put in a stomach. The only time I did was when I was in special pray fast session. I always find people who really even if we were not related who used to help me. I never struggle to have clothes. May be I never had many labels clothes but my father has taught me that labels clothes didn't means much. I may be having sleep twice outside. I always had people who assist me. So honestly, I never suffer in my life. Those people who are sleeping outside like homeless and millions of people who are starving to eat, are those who really suffer. I only had challenges being close to prematurely die. Seeing your people you loved turning into your enemies, ready to decapitate me and see no way out but God always made a miracle such us the priests who used to put they life on they line to save me.
So, I have to admit that I am really an opportunist too, taking advantage of everything that happening in my life. I had a chance to see and hear a lot of things that alone helped me to active my inspiration and determination.

I am sorry if the truth has to make enemies. There is no way around for the truth. I am sorry if the book does not protect lies. I always not believe in enemies. All the circumstances and incident source of blessing to me.

All the people that I met into this journey in life will always have a special place into my heart. Even the Bible the most popular and readable book on this planet earth didn't hide the truth.

If I don't hunt the truth, the truth will hunt and it will be too late me.

The king David and other spoke of their bad doing on this planet earth. We don't become friends to be enemies.
I apologize to all the people that felt that I have offended them.

Thank to all the people who supported me and help me in difficulties time.

Thank to God and ancestors for making all those circumstances possible and gave me strength and courage to overcome challenges.

I was not expecting to write a part of my autobiography this early. It was by the insistence of one of my editor Rowan Williams an 80 years man who wanted me to write it.
I was always against the idea. I thought it was too early, I hated autobiography because people talks only of they good side hiding the weakness. It become too angelic than the Bible. People are always right in the autobiography. It a good book to sell picture and name.
For me a biography book must be a motivator book not an angelic book as excuse book or a complaining book.
Inspiration comes from what we see and hear and meet. I believe that I got mine from my past too. If really your are a fan and wonder where the inspiration come from. I think it may be one of the answers. I want always an autobiography or biography to be an inspiration, motivation book rather than a excuse book.
I promise to come with a follow up where I will concentrate of the challenge meet in writing books, songs, researches...and mostly important the spiritual side. A truly motivator book. I pray that God makes the unachieved dream possible.

FROM THE SAME AUTHOR :Dicho

� THE CANNIBALS: The arrival of colonists in Africa and the cannibals practices in 1900th.
� THE WITCHCRAFT: The rural and urban life and the witchcraft.
� A PRINCE IN AMERICA: The life of a Prince who went to New York to study and find his lover.
� POSTAL CARD: A life of an African students in Europe in the 1960Th.
� THE ANGELIC AND DEMONIAC VERSES VERSES( PART ONE AND PART TWO: Eyes for eye and teeth for teeth): The Biblical interpretation of some verses and the will to make miracle.
� THE LOST DREAM: A AUTO BIOGRAPHY.
� THE VICE VERSA: A collection of 12 short stories.
- VERBAL DIARRHOEA: A life of a plane crash survival when going to Africa to cover the AIDS enpidemic.
- DOCTOR LOVE: a dectetive with some of the African cases

COMING SOON (Fiction): Dicho
Note: the title may be modified in the editing process
� THE HANDS OF GOD( PART ONE): an imaginary soccer World cup novel.

� THE STUMBLING BLOCK: the falling of a dictatorial regime.
. THE HIGH AND THE LOW: collection of short stories.

COMING SOON ( Non- Fiction): Dicho

� ENCYCLOPEDIA(the world conventional): Self scientific research not publishable.

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Dicho Disashi Ilunga
6, cotton road
Greenside 2193
South Africa

Or 11, union height
Edmond street
Arcadia 0083
South Africa

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