Trials in the Congo

Pamela Stein
April 1981

Annette and her fiancé, Jacob Kamga Fotso

"Father loves a sacrificial spirit -- he knows the way of life of a saint. We must be able to forget about dignity, honor, shame, and just go the way of mission to pursue True Father's victory."

I arrived in Brazzaville, Congo, on May 27, 1975, at 7:30 p.m., looking bewildered and spaced out. But bravely I marched through customs, and when I was stopped by the immigration men, I just stared wide-eyed at them as they questioned me -- I could not understand a word they were saying. I was very nervous. At this point my plastic sack broke and all my hair rollers tumbled out on the airport floor. They laughed at me; I was very embarrassed. But they let me pass, still amused at my clumsiness.

A Dutch woman came to my aid and asked me in English if I needed a ride somewhere. I was so relieved. She and her husband drove me to a local hotel and left me for the night.

I went to a quiet room on the second floor and barricaded myself inside it for the night. Since I joined our church I have not been able to sleep well in strange beds, so the first thing I did was prepare my bed -- that is, my sheet -- on the cement floor. The Divine Principle book was my pillow, and surrounding me in a circle from head to foot were all the objects precious to me from my life in the family in America. There was a blessed candle from Father's birthday, a napkin he had used in Los Angeles, a spoon he used, photos, souvenirs, and other things which I loved. I then prepared to sleep in this little haven of protection and bowed my head to pray. Instead, I promptly burst out into tears and cried and cried and cried. I didn't have much to say that night.

Later, I found the German missionary, Annette, but we had to be very careful in our words and actions. After spending several weeks being observed by the security police, we thought that we had better "go on vacation," since we had tourist visas and would be expected to do some touring. So we left the capital and visited for a number of days the seaport town Pointe Noire, an 18-hour train ride. I remained in Pointe Noire for three months, and when I had to extend my visa, I took a trip to Gabon to visit our mission there. It was a four-day journey by road.

This journey took me through Lambarene, the famous island where Dr. Albert Schweitzer worked. The island was very peaceful, and I was so impressed. There I met two nurses, Marie and Joan.

Marie had spent more than 30 years with Dr. Schweitzer. She was a beautiful old woman, and she shared some wonderful stories with me. I visited her room late one night, as I was cold and had no warm nightclothes. She gave me one of her clean warm cotton nightgowns and a blanket and told me some stories of her life with Dr. Schweitzer.

She was so open and charming; she felt very terrible these days because she was too old to work. With no worldly possessions, she had to be a "burden" to everyone. Should she leave, however, the people would miss her sorely. She could not bear not being able to work, so every day she did her best to serve. But after 40 years in Africa, it was very tiring for her. I cannot forget this wonderful woman, sitting in her bed with white nightgown and shawl, with her little lantern burning, talking about the wonderful life she had known on Lambarene.

Later, I left her room and met the other nurse, Joan, on the way back to my room. There on a little sloping path, under the papaya trees and stars, Joan told me of her life in a few short paragraphs, and thus imprinted on my heart her burning dedication to mankind. As she spoke to me, a warm breeze suddenly blew over us, and I felt God's quiet presence as I listened to her story

Joan was about 45 years old, a very strong and free woman from England. She had lost her entire family during World War II, and after the war she traveled all over Europe, searching for her direction in life. Eventually, she came to Africa and did some nursing. In the 1960's she rode her bicycle from Nigeria to Gabon, all alone, living with the people on the way, completely sharing their lives. She can eat any and all things -- she never gets sick. She knows the traditions and inner heart of the African people. When she came to Lambarene and met Dr. Schweitzer, she wanted to spend the rest of her life working beside him. She has never had a salary and she cares nothing for herself except to serve people. I asked if she believed in God, and she stared at me and just smiled a very brilliant smile. But she did not answer my question.

She said that after Dr. Schweitzer died, she stayed on at Lambarene, but more and more she is making trips to the interior to be with the natives and to teach them hygiene. Soon, she said, she would get into a canoe and not return -- that she belonged to these people and she loved them with all her heart. She wanted to be among them for the rest of her life, and only return to civilization to get supplies and medicines for them.

When I returned to my room, I felt so humbled that I could not pray or sleep for a long time. I was so moved by Joan -- her courage, her enthusiasm, her faith, her life-giving positive personality, her dedication, her standard of heart. I felt so unworthy and dismal, and here I was -- a blessed sister of the True Parents. It was a very precious judgment for me, and I felt the most precious people are not always found in the Unification Church. I was deeply comforted to see that Heavenly Father had great workers all over the world in hidden places to take care of the suffering humanity. I realized that my mission was different than Joan's, but that I must strive for the same standard of faith and dedication. Hers was so much greater than my own, and it inspired me to see it.

Arriving in Libreville, the capital of Gabon, I took a taxi to the American embassy and was given Helen's address. Wandering around looking for her and the center for two hours, I cried a little and felt pretty frustrated.

It was after dark and I was in a strange city. But at last I found the house. I peeked through the windows, and there was Helen teaching the Divine Principle in French. Oh glory, what a sight! Blackboard, students, Divine Principle diagrams, and good old Helen parlezing French -- a real center. I was so happy to be home.

It was a wonderful reunion. I was very glad that I had made the journey through the Congo to Gabon, for I saw and learned many new things about the African people. This journey gave me insight which has helped in the rest of the years I spent in the Congo and Zaire.

In the Congo I had various bouts with malaria. One time I had a relapse which lasted two months. I was alone, as our German sister, Annette Bierau, had moved to the capital city to attend the university. Neither could I live with our Japanese brother, Tsukasa, since we could not associate with each other very often.

I can remember one experience during this time when I had no money. Every day I went to the post office to look for a check from New York or at least a letter from my husband. Day after day, burning with fever, I walked to the post office, which was a very long distance away. I did not even have money for car fare, and I did not dare ask the family I was living with, although they would have been happy to give me whatever I needed. I even visited Tsukasa and asked him if he could loan me some money. But he said that he did not have enough.

One day I was walking in the light rain, hot but shivering with fever, very hungry and with absolutely no money in my pocket. I was returning from the post office, which again held nothing for me. I passed through the crowds of Congolese people and felt really one with them. How many of them, I wondered, were also sick and penniless and felt as hopeless as I did? Yet I had True Parents. For me the situation was passing, but for them it was a lifetime. I felt such deep despair for God and humanity and I knew the course I walked right then was the very one which True Father knew so well and spoke to us about all the time. It was a precious moment, even if I could not feel joy. I knew the value of myself in that moment, and I gained courage.

This was just the beginning of a greater battle I had to endure from Satan. I was finally too ill to get up from my bed, and I found it difficult to survive on the African cooking, as my stomach was still unused to the greasy foods of local cuisine. I ate what I could, but I grew weaker. I would cry afternoon around 2:00, Satan would come to torture me in the form of accusation for my past. Not only my past before the family but all of my actions and mistakes in the family. He tried to take away the precious victories from the past by telling me that it was all in vain. I cried and cried every day, tortured and depressed and repenting because I had said something to someone or I had arrogantly thought something about a certain situation or I had not treated my leaders correctly. This trial went on for ten days. I thought I should die in order to get some peace.

There was nowhere to go and nothing to do. I could not lose myself in witnessing and teaching; I could not go out into the city because not only was I weak but the people stared at me and called me mondele and mumbled about me everywhere I went. I was desperately alone and cried out to God to please not leave me. I fought with Satan and I kept my dignity and position as God's daughter. No matter what I had done in the past, I had not left Heavenly Father or sinned against True Parents; all the wonderful experiences I had had in the family were real, and Satan's accusations were wrong. Even if he were right, God had forgiven me, I knew.

In this period, there were no moments of light or joy or hope. I really felt abandoned and defeated, and thought that perhaps this happened because my original attitude towards this mission had not been wholesome, leaving me a poor foundation to stand upon in the time of trial. I had come to the Congo out of obedience, without determination or a goal, without direction or love. Simple obedience. Therefore, every place I went was like a prison, and I longed with all my heart to go back to America. Due to my pride and lack of money I remained. I thought if I could be with brothers and sisters together there was strength and I could endure to the end. But to endure by myself seemed impossible.

The check never arrived. My husband never wrote. Little did I know that both these precious items awaited me in another town, with Annette. Finally I decided I was not meant to be alone, ever, and that in fact no human being alive on the earth was meant to be alone. So I arranged to go to be with Annette.

I told her I was so poor, and she said she also had no money, but we could be poor together. I cried with happiness to hear those words of love. Annette did not realize my suffering at this time, nor did she know how happy and reborn our conversation had made me.

I visited a friend of ours who agreed to fly me to the capital city (I never had to pay at all). That airplane ride was inspiring to me, flying over the Congo and seeing from the air the same forests and plains that I had so often viewed from the train. I felt deeply the loneliness of the land. It was not my own loneliness, because I was really filled with hope and joy to begin a new phase of our mission. This loneliness came from the earth below me. No matter how pretty it looked, I spiritually saw instead a barren, fruitless land, waiting and waiting and waiting for liberation. This land never knew happy people, rich production or love. I thought to myself that perhaps all of Africa is like this -- with only patches here and there that were cultivated by loving families from foreign nations or by missionaries and priests. But even those had often been eventually misused.

Arriving in Brazzaville, I found where Annette was staying, embraced her and collapsed on my new sweet-smelling lumpy grass mattress. Very soon I had another relapse of malaria and was flat on my back in bed again. As we had so little to eat most of the time, I could not get stronger. Finally, Annette found a nurse friend who came to give me a Vitamin B shot. It looked like a gallon of vitamin B in that hypo, and she took five minutes to get it all in. I was totally consumed by it and even tasted it. From it, I gained a little more strength.

I remember during that period how hungry Annette and I would get, and we had so little money. There was one little restaurant in the city, a very long walk through the lantern-lit dirt roads -- roads full of potholes and other dangerous traps to people who did not see well. We would walk for one hour via this route just to eat some beans and rice and a little mutton.

Then we would walk all the way home through the dark night. No one ever harmed us, and we felt much pride in the Congolese people that we could walk through the city streets at night, unmolested, even though we were the only white girls in the entire quarter.

After my vitamin B shot, I gathered all my strength to make that journey for our beans and rice. I was so hungry, and I guess that was what gave me the physical fortitude to walk so long. I was accompanied by Annette and a young man she had taught the Principle to. On this night we spoke to him of the True Parents, and he could understand that Father was the Messiah and wanted to follow the Principle life. There was much joy in our journey that night, and we ate a wonderful meal together.

In order to remain in the country, I had applied for a job with the help of a friend.

Every day I rode a long distance on my bicycle to see if there was an answer to my application. I was still weak and had a slight fever. The sun was so hot and I had to bicycle up a hill during part of the journey. I could see that there was no future in remaining in the Congo if I could not find a job;

I knew that True Parents would not be able to come to this nation for many, many years, and it was like a prison to remain there. Nevertheless, I really wanted to do my best to fulfill the will of God, which was to remain in this nation for three years.

So with my little strength I pedaled uphill in the hot sun, using this condition to demonstrate to God my desperate hope, if nothing else, to remain in the Congo. I remember tears rolling down my face because of the physical effort being too much for me, and I thought that I would collapse in the end and ruin my health. But I made this indemnity condition because I had nothing else to offer God on the altar for the Congo but my physical suffering.

When I arrived for the job decision and was told a definite no, I cried very much. Not from disappointment but from a sense of hopelessness to complete my mission in this country and a sense of emptiness for having come here in the first place. Having always been a person who accomplishes substantially, I felt horribly desperate every day, having to live an invisible life, hiding under a facade and never hoping to bring fruits to our True Parents.

Very soon after this we had some visitors from the immigration office, asking us to report to the security police at 8:00 the following morning. We remarked to each other how odd it was that they visited us on Sunday. The police knew we were good friends with the immigration director, and they said we were asked to come to see him in the morning. We showed up at 8:00 Monday morning, November 17, at the office. Our passports were taken away and we were put in a waiting room and kept against our will without being told why we were there. We were scared and knew we had to be careful. Our friend, the immigration director, was out of town for three days.

I remember clearly the first few hours, the feeling of being trapped and tricked, of being betrayed and helpless, of danger facing us, of a treacherous path ahead. I wanted to scream inside and outside, I was so angry at being held against my will. It was the first time in my life I did not have the freedom to walk away from a situation. I could not mentally accept this, and I felt tortured.

After five or six hours, Annette and I stopped asking ourselves what was going on and started to make a plan of action and to figure out for what possible reason we were being kept like this. We knew there was not one person to defend or help us, except perhaps two people who knew the Divine Principle and the mission of our True Parents. We had to somehow warn them that we were at the police headquarters. Still, if the police caught them cooperating with us, they would be imprisoned and tortured.

I was again weak from malaria and could not stand up very long. Despite my physical condition, I decided with Annette to fast until we were released. We remembered that Father had said that if you go to prison in a Communist country you should fast, because it is the one thing which frightens them the most. So we prayed and began.

At 6:00 p.m. the guards changed. The new soldiers were very eager to check us out and introduce themselves to us. They were curious about us, so Annette told them that we would like to go get something to eat and to change our clothes. They agreed to help us go to the supermarket and drive us to our room to change our clothes. Although we were being kept against our will, we had not been officially arrested yet.

We entered the grocery market accompanied by soldiers. We looked like all the other foreign people, but I was so struck that I was a prisoner of the state and not a free person -- and I could not shout it out to anyone; even if I did, no one would help me because of fear. I have never felt so separated and isolated from humanity in my entire life. There was nowhere I could go. Besides, I had not done anything to escape from. I felt grateful to be with Annette -- there is strength in two.

When we arrived at our room, we prepared to take a shower, but meanwhile we gathered up all our materials and letters and photos and put them in one satchel. We destroyed as much as possible and put the remaining religious materials under my bed. Annette tore up photos and threw them away. We felt so desperate about what to do with all the things we had.

Finally, the police started banging on our door and we had to leave for the night. The night passed, and I had nightmares of murder and rape; terrible spirits attacked me. During this night I faced the fact that I was not ready to go to the spirit world and that my faith was very shallow indeed. I cried because I did not want to die. I did not want to leave my husband, whom I did not really know yet, and I cried because I had no children. I was nothing. I did not want to disappear off the face of the earth into the spit it world when I had not accomplished my mission and could not comfort God.

In the wee hours of the morning, when I awoke and found myself still in this miserable position, I was agonized to the core. How to escape? I tossed and turned and wept. Finally, just at dawn, I began to think of Jesus. I experienced instead of my own agony alone, also his at having lost his mission, at having to go to the spirit world early, at having no bride or family. I was in the same position as Jesus. I felt that I was being crucified. I thought that it was a terrible sin for a blessed member to die without having fulfilled the mission. I was terrified that I had sinned against God without realizing it, and I reflected throughout myself trying to find what I had done. I could find nothing but the usual pride and arrogance and fallen desire which were my inheritance from birth. I wanted to shake off these sins and to be free to go forward into the next day.

One terrible thing kept haunting me, and I could not overcome it -- the thought of torture. I knew that I could not bear physical pain very well and also I was at that time so weak and my nerves were worn out. So I cried again, having so little courage and stamina to face the day ahead. This state of mind lasted most of the second day.

Meanwhile, from the outside, we were being pushed and shoved from interrogation to interrogation. We were threatened if we did not tell the truth. Why were we there? Whom did we know? Why did I go to Gabon? How did we meet each other? Where was the Japanese fellow? etc. We had no idea exactly how to answer these questions, because we did not know how much they knew and why they were asking us.

At one point they separated Annette and me, and kept us apart for about an hour. I laid on the cement floor because I could not stand up. During this time, Annette passed by the door where I was and whispered to me, "Pamela, I have so much courage! Don't worry." That moment, hearing these words and seeing my bright sister full of strength and hope and determination was a great shot in the arm. I laughed for the first time in days and I felt joy, real joy. I, too, felt courage and! knew that God was on our side.

Later we were interrogated again, but I could tell that they were not getting much out of us and were beginning to conclude that we were innocent victims of a ploy.

We decided that I needed a physical shot in the arm or I could not stay alive. So we managed to get the soldiers to drive us to the dispensary that afternoon. While I was having my 20-minute hypo poured into me, Annette quietly talked to one contact who worked there and was able to get the message to our two students about our situation. We told them to bury their books. Back at the station, we were interrogated about one person I had taught, a young man from the Gambia. Then we understood who had reported about us.

That evening, the soldiers again drove us to our room to take a shower. It was raining very hard outside, and we opened our windows to let the cool air into the room. We also turned up the cassette music and then we began ripping papers. We destroyed or tore every letter and everything that made us identifiable with any organization and stuffed all this into a plastic bag. I almost had a heart attack during this time -- the soldier was outside in the hall waiting for us, the storm was filling the dark sky, the rain was pouring in from the windows, and the music was hopefully drowning out all the loud sounds of ripping paper. The next problem was what to do with it all. I filled the sack with water so that no one could ever piece together that stuff if they tried, and dumped the entire thing in a huge waste-can which was kept in our "lovely communal bathroom," which we shared with the Congolese families who lived in our building. We used to clean it faithfully each day, hoping to teach them hygiene and to serve them, because we could not tell them our real purpose in being there.

We returned to the old waiting room in great spirits, laughing and full of winks at each other. The soldiers also enjoyed our good humor. During the evening they asked us to eat something, but we refused. Then they realized that we had not eaten since they had brought us there. Finally it dawned on them that we would not eat until we were released. They came in, one by one, and begged us to eat something. They became so worried, especially about me, for they could see I could hardly walk from weakness. They begged and begged us, and told us about the harm which comes to a body which does not eat. We laughed and explained to them that God was greater and that since we wanted to demonstrate our innocence, we did not have to eat because we had an inner strength.

They were tremendously moved, and we continued speaking about God and faith. These soldiers -- and in fact all our persecutors -- came to love us and to think of us in a protective way. We also came to low them, and that night I felt for the first time a sense of mission to the people of the Congo. I remembered Father's words about how we must be responsible for the people, because Heavenly Father has taken responsibility for man throughout history.

For the first time during my imprisonment, I cried for Heavenly Father. I thanked Him for His constant love to sinners and said I wanted to share this love with Him. I told Him that I would fast and lie in a prison cell for as long as necessary and that I would witness to all the prisoners and my persecutors and finally to the president of this nation. I had absolute faith that God would accept my indemnity and I was at last ready to go to the spirit world.

Annette and I decided that if we died, we would just continue our work in the spirit world, teaching and witnessing in hell. We would mobilize the Congolese spirit world for God. We were very excited about this plan, and it was a wonderful moment of freedom for me personally.

I cried joyful tears at realizing the preciousness of the truth living in me and that Satan could never take away what I knew. He could never take away my True Parents or my Heavenly Father. Instead, I could attack Satan in the spirit world with the Principle. I would even teach the Principle to evil spirits and I would work for the restoration for the remainder of eternity. With these wonderful thoughts and inspirations, we passed our second night in the security police station, hidden away and guarded by soldiers who longed for our release as much as we did.

The next morning at dawn, Annette and I went into the front courtyard and listened to the birds and the early morning noises. I was almost too weak to get down the stairs, but there was so much joy in my heart. How beautiful the morning! How precious the earth and all the things which God created! What a gift the green trees and the blue sky! I enjoyed the peace and the wonderful air of the early morning. It has always been my favorite part of the day, and I cannot help but feel close to God and to all the universe in those first moments of the day. This day was no exception.

Unfortunately, Annette felt very nervous that morning and seemed attacked with fears. I could see that Satan wanted to divide us very much. It was so easy to get negative in our situation, so easy to feel anger or resentment towards the people and towards each other.

That morning we had to go to our room with the police to have it searched. It was a rather unpleasant and actually nerve- wracking experience. They tore the place apart and finally, at the very last, they looked under my bed and found the satchel. They opened it up and whistled as if they had found a great treasure.

Actually, a wonderful experience ensued, as they began to rummage through the books and photos. They examined the Divine Principle book in English and looked a long time at the photo of Father in the front. They decided that he was a good man and very religious. I was so amazed and encouraged. Then they found the photos of the True Parents and our family in the United States. They got excited over the crusade work we did. They said that Father's family was very beautiful and Mother especially was a good and beautiful woman. I then began to witness to them as best I could under the circumstances. They stared at me hard and long, seeing my sincere heart and hope for them, and then one of them sighed.

Then they turned on Father's tape. All spies have tapes! But this one was different. When they played the speech of Father, he was in the middle of telling a funny story at Barrytown, and the room was filled with the laughter of brothers and sisters. Between Father's Korean, the English translation and the laughter, our persecutors got very disappointed that it was so religious and innocent looking. They then decided that I was not a spy but just a religious girl and Annette was my friend.

This is what we wanted them to think.

So they packed all the stuff off to the police station. I could tell they wanted to finish the whole deal because it was not as interesting or intriguing as it had seemed. Annette and I were so relieved, and we prayed and prayed that that night we could sleep in our little lumpy grass beds.

At 11:00 a.m. the four interrogators and my "spiritual son" to whom I had taught Divine Principle, but who later had informed on us burst into our cell for a final confrontation. By this time my heart was pounding so loudly that I sometimes clutched my chest to try to still it. Our interrogators got so excited and thought I was going to pass out. Annette and I were very dramatic. Our informer got so confused during the interrogation that in the end he accused the security police of being "reactionaries." They asked many questions. Sometimes Annette and I had to lie in order to protect the others and our spiritual children. Our informer got so angry and began to accuse us all. The police finally got tired of him and his confused story and declared us innocent and him guilty.

Well, after exactly 77 hours, Annette and I were free to go home. When we reached our room, we prayed and cried with relief. The police still had my books, photos and diary, which they tried to decipher. They were very impressed with what they could understand of Father and decided that Father was a respectable man of God. The Africans are like no other people on the earth: good is good and evil is evil. They could see that True Father and Annette and I were good, and they did not want to harm us.

One reason why the police felt disposed to be favorable towards Annette and myself was that my visa would expire just three days after we were released, and they expected to see me at the airport. I agreed to be there, and when the airplane lifted up and left the Congo with me in it, I cried and cried. I hoped so much that God was not disappointed. It seemed to me that He could really love the Congolese people now, because the government representatives had united with Annette and me and the side of God and had found us to be innocent under persecution and accusation. Now my sister was all alone there. For the two months I spent in New York, I could not eat or rest peacefully.

The next two months were spent trying to recuperating physically and preparing to return to Africa. This was a difficult time, as I needed to detach myself from past relationships and securities I had in America and rely totally on heaven and the Principle to guide me. During this time, our Korean members at Belvedere comforted and supported me very much. I cannot forget the strength and example of faith which I found in them. I saw that they were very self-reliant and such good instruments for God. I realized I must become the same, not depending on the Unification Church for my happiness, but upon God Himself and the life which He had prepared for me to live. During this time I prayed very deeply to understand our mission as pioneers and to understand how to be independent in the will of God.

Also, I examined the internal purpose of the Blessing and discussed with my husband our future responsibility to become God-centered and sinless and to raise sinless children. It seemed to be very real for the first time.

I learned during this time that it does not matter if others understand or approve of you -- what does matter is knowing God's will and having the faith to fulfill it. Sometimes, even in the Unification Church, we must do something by ourselves or go alone. The important thing is how we do it. I discovered through prayer and through a few dreams which God gave me the direction I could go. The love and approval I sought was also provided by heaven.

True Father appeared to me in one dream where I was bicycling in Africa, buying some vegetables for one family. He stopped me and told me not to use my bicycle any more, but to go by auto. Then he pinned on my collar a gold star and said, "Now you can be responsible." He urged me to start work again. This dream made me very happy inside, because I knew that I had not failed God, but had passed some test and could continue the mission given to me. I was very anxious to go to Zaire and to begin witnessing in that nation, where I could find Congolese people and where I could perhaps meet Annette again.

Epilogue

Annette spent a total of 21 months in the Congo, until the week of March 13, 1977, when she was urgently inspired to leave the country and cross the river to Zaire. She arrived in Zaire on March 17. On March 18, the president of the Congo was assassinated. Many of Annette's contacts and Christian friends were arrested and tortured, and hearing their names on the radio, she became hysterical with grief, and we had to take her to the hospital where she spent the night under a doctor's care.

Shortly after this time, she witnessed to and taught Roger, our first Zairian member. At the same time I witnessed to and taught Denise, our first Zairian sister. Both Roger and Denise are from the tribes along the river in southern Zaire, where the people are the same as those of the southern tribe in the Congo; they even speak Kikongo, the same language.

Annette and I felt so joyful to find these precious two people. We felt God's blessing for the Congo could be given to Zaire, so these first members represented the Congolese people as well. From Roger and Denise came the first dozen members, and from their obedience and devotion to True Parents and God came the example and foundation of the Zairian family.

I stayed in Zaire until January 1979. At that time we had 40 center members, as well as over 20 associate members. Today Zaire has over 130 center members and several hundred home members, as well as 40 fully active home churches. Annette has been pioneering the home church program in Zaire since the spring of 1980. She was engaged by "True Parents in England in September 1978, to the first African brother to receive True Parents' Blessing. Their couple is truly historical. Father praised Annette one Sunday in 1979 at Belvedere and said, "She is a true pioneer of the Kingdom of Heaven."

In Zaire, besides witnessing and teaching, I could also help pioneer the fundraising foundation for our members, as well as start a typing school for young women and a secretarial service for the business community.

I really am deeply grateful to Heavenly Father that in His providence nothing is lost, but every effort and sacrifice can blossom in another season.