What scampers up a tree on two legs, hurls itself fearlessly from a high branch to land with a heroic splash in the river current, surfaces again swimming frantically against the current to reach the tree trunk at the river edge in order to repeat the game all over again?!

Answer: 3 MKs, and even their parents! (Picture 1: Steven Fountain, Jonathan, Katherine and Christopher Niles with Kwilu river in the background)

This holiday season, our family spent two weeks visiting in Vanga, where I grew up. We were there with our cousin Steven Fountain, and my parents, Daniel and Miriam Fountain, retired International Ministries medical missionaries who served in Vanga from 1961 until 1996, making three generations of Fountains at Vanga. Our boys, Christopher and Jonathan, and their cousin Steven (my brother Pauls’ #2 son) encountered places and people who have shaped our lives, and discovered the joys of the Kwilu river. What an incredible gift to celebrate the turning of 2007 to 2008 in a place we call home and with former collegues and friends, sharing with our children the heritage that is ours.

(Picture 2: 3 generations at Vanga)

My parents, who now live in Florida, came to Congo in December to spend nearly two months with us. Their travels passed them through England, where my brother Paul, his wife Jackie, and their four children live. Paul and Jackie were missionaries with Tear Fund in Vanga until 1994, and Joshua, Steven and Christy, their three oldest children, were born at Vanga. Anxious to see his “roots”, Steven joined his grandparents to spend three weeks with us. Now a teen, he met colleagues of his parents and grandparents who remember him as a toddler. He celebrated a green Christmas, and he saw highlights of Congo his British classmates will only ever see in pictures:

The Zongo Falls (photo 3: running through the spray of Zongo falls), the Congo River, the “heart of Africa”.

To get to Vanga from Kinshasa, 500 miles as the crow flies, Wayne determined to take the boys by road. Many were the road trips he made growing up. It was their turn! Feeling less adventuresome, the grandparents and I took a Missionary Aviation Fellowship plane to Vanga. We both left Kinshasa on a Friday morning. Guess who got to Vanga first?!

Except that bridges have replaced ferry crossings, the drive between Kinshasa and Vanga was everything Wayne hoped for a road trip. A storm overtook them just as they left the paved road, rendering the next 160 kilometer stretch of red clay road a slippery wonder. They slipped and fishtailed and got stuck in spite of 4 wheel drive.

(picture 4: getting stuck) Further on, a narrow stretch of road forced them to negotiate inch by inch around a dump truck hopelessly stuck almost exactly in the middle of the road. They had only inches of maneuver room between the truck and the banks on each side.

(Picture 5: hopelessly stuck) Back on pavement, the boys snacked on fresh pineapple and boiled corn purchased from vendors at a noisy bridge crossing. The light of day eventually turned to the blackness of night, and they turned off the paved road onto the sandy stretch that represents the Vanga road. Not having traveled that way in 20 years, Wayne lost his way. In DRC, street signs are pedestrians taking advantage of the cooler night temperatures to walk their distances. Several selflessly climbed on board to accompany them to the next bifurcation ensuring they didn’t miss the next turn.

They progressed well until Wayne stuck the truck solidly in a muddy bank while attempting to turn 180 because he thought they had taken a wrong turn. Pitch darkness in the heart of Congo, smothered them. By headlight, the boys shouldered shovels to dig out. Then, Wayne snapped off the headlights. Imagining all that might pounce on them from that deep, quiet darkness, with super human strength, they loosed the truck in minutes! Their journey ended when they reached the final last eroded stretch of road down into Vanga at mid-night, only seven hours later than predicted.

Meanwhile, the MAF plane arrived at Vanga an hour and 40 minutes after leaving Kinshasa! Jubilant was the welcome given to Mom, Dad and Steven (the next day!).

(picture 6: Vanga airport reception) They had come home! Before coming, Steven brushed up on a few words of Kituba (the language spoken at Vanga) and bravely greeted those he met, announcing (in Kituba!) that he’d forgotten how to speak Kituba. They loved it! For him the best part of Vanga was the river: four swims a day, minimum (!) and a supper invitation to the home of his godparents, DeGaulle and Lucy Mwanambulu dear friends of his parents and grandparents.

(Picture 7: supper with DeGaulle and Mama Lucy)

Mom and Dad didn’t miss any opportunity to bless and encourage. Mom spent hours listening to the ones who came to visit, praying with them for their needs and concerns. Dad spent time with the hospital, nursing school, and station leaders, hearing concerns, offering guidance, problem solving. Daily wanderings often took us beyond the hospital and river. The concern for the diminishing forest and the urgency to better conserve the available agricultural land took us to the agricultural center of Lusekele to spend a day with leaders and in that area.

Discussion of erosion control measures took us on a outing with a group of Vanga leaders on a “look and see” up the gullied roads Wayne and the boys traversed at midnight. A canoe trip with fellow missionaries on the river brought back memories of the hundreds of hippo-counting adventures we’d had growing up.

(picture 8: canoe ride)

Three generations represents quite a few years. When can you say the job is done? Shouldn’t it be done?

On the last Sunday of the year, the Baptist church at Vanga holds a baptism service in the river.

(picture 9: Kwilu baptism) With Vanga Christians, and many from surrounding villages, we watched almost 50 children and adults profess their faith in Christ by being baptized. The church is established, preaching the gospel, evangelizing, even growing. But the roots of the church in Congo, which continues to fidget between war and peace, are shallow.

Congo boasts tragically poor health indicators, one of the highest infant mortality rates in the world, hungry children, the rapid growth of Islam and other religions, and her people seem unable to escape poverty’s grip though they live over, under, and beside clusters of the richest natural resources in the world. The job isn’t done. Three generations isn’t enough. We must remain faithful to the call, evaluate our strategies, and persevere in partnering with this nation. If we turn aside from the battle now, many will perish before the last trumpet sounds.