Bwana at Niangara

“For we preach not ourselves, but Christ Jesus as Lord, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake.” — 2 Corinthians 4:5 (ASV)

Studd sailed early in 1913, most accounts say on 30 January. He was fifty-two. With him went Alfred Buxton, about twenty-one, from a great evangelical family descended from the man who led the fight in Parliament against slavery in the British Empire. Alfred had been preparing for a medical career and gave it up to go. He was in many ways Studd’s opposite: patient, gentle, quick at languages. For more than ten years he would be Studd’s closest partner.

They went by sea to East Africa, then by railway, steamer and on foot through what are now Kenya and Uganda to Lake Albert, and across into the Belgian Congo. The journey took about nine months. They reached Niangara, a government post on the Uele River, on 16 October 1913. The church that grew from their work still remembers the date, and celebrated a hundred years in 2013.

You can’t understand this place without knowing what had just happened there. From 1885 to 1908 the Congo had been the personal property of King Leopold II of Belgium. His regime forced people to collect wild rubber and ivory. Villages that missed their quotas were burned, people were beaten, mutilated and killed, and millions died through violence, famine and disease. An international protest, with Protestant missionaries among its leaders, forced Belgium to take over in 1908. In the north-east the Azande and Mangbetu kingdoms had resisted conquest for years. Slavers from the north had raided long before. The people of the Uele had every reason to be wary of white men who arrived uninvited.

For the first year we have an unusual witness. An American named Hayes Perkins worked at Niangara in 1914 and kept a diary. He didn’t share all of Studd’s views, and he could be unfair. But he was there, and he wasn’t writing for supporters.

Perkins noted that Studd announced his African name would be Bwana, a Swahili word for master, and pointed out with some irritation that it wasn’t even used in Bangala, the local trade language. White men across the region were called that. But it isn’t a title Jesus would have taken. The man who had worn a Chinese gown in Shanxi slipped back into the role of the white master. Perkins also noted that it was Buxton, not Studd, who preached to people in Bangala. Studd hadn’t learned it yet.

Another entry stands out. When Perkins was left in charge, the first thing he did was tell the mission’s workers they no longer had to attend morning and evening prayers. It isn’t clear how the rule had been enforced, and Perkins may have overstated it. But if people who depended on the mission for wages had to come to prayers, they weren’t choosing the gospel. Perkins was right that faith has to be freely chosen.

And the people of the Uele did choose. They decided whether to work for the mission, whether to come and listen, and whether to believe. Many came out of curiosity and left unconvinced. Some came back. In time, Congolese men and women were baptised and became evangelists themselves. Their choices, not the missionaries’ plans, decided whether there would be a church.

On 19 August 1914 a telegram brought news of war in Europe. Most of the African troops at Niangara were sent to the front. Tens of thousands of Congolese men were conscripted as soldiers and porters for the campaigns in East Africa, and very many died far from home. The missionaries’ accounts say little about that. Late in 1914 word came that Scilla was seriously ill, and Studd left the work with Buxton and went home.

Paul said, “we preach not ourselves, but Christ Jesus as Lord, and ourselves as your servants.” You can give away a fortune and still expect to be in charge.

One thing to do this week: notice one place where you expect to be treated as the boss, at home, in a group chat, on a team. Do one thing there that serves instead of directs.