RICHÁRD TESTVÉR KONGÓI BETEGEKÉRT ALAPÍTVÁNY

The story of Paul Kawumbu.

Paul Kawumbu is 62. He lives in the town of Kongolo, in the northern part of KATANGA province. He has lost his sight three years ago. First his left eye became weaker, and eventually his vision became more and more blurred. An opaque white spot appeared on his pupils, and one morning he awoke, realizing he couldn't see anything except for some light.
„Grandpa, why don't you come out into the yard?”, asked his young grandchild.
„Because I can't see anything!”, Paul replied.


From that day onward, life changed for Paul. All he did was loll around in an armchair watching the passing of time. He listened to the radio, chatted sometimes with friends and reminisced. About the blue African sky, the green trees of the forest, the grass of the savannah. When the family sat down to eat, he waited patiently until they placed his hands on a plate or a glass to help him find his bearings. The most degrading moments of the day came when he had to combine his regular constitutional with relieving himself. African latrines dug at the far end of each plot are too far for a blind man, lurking with all sorts of dangers.
"I was told that the eye doctor from Kabinda is on mission in Lubao!", a friend from the village told him excitedly one day. The news spread like wildfire: the 'famous' eye doctor is on mission in Lubao. He is examining people and operating on them. "We are leaving tomorrow", said the friend. Paul Kawumbu discussed it with his family; his wife and two sons would accompany him on a borrowed bicycle to Lubao. The latter is some 200 km to the west of Kongolo, they should get there comfortably in five days. Yes, but how much money should we take? They decided on 50,000 Congo francs (abt. 38 euros), which should cover hospital costs plus some more for daily expenses. They set out in good spirits at sunrise the following morning. The hope that Paul would soon be able to see the blue of the African sky, his children, the brown eyes of his wife, made them forget the sweltering heat, the perspiration, as they pushed the bike that kept getting stuck in the sand.
But let Paul tell the rest of his story:
There were lots of us who set out from Kongolo to see the eye specialist. Mainly people with no vision at all, who hoped to regain their sight, but there were also some younger ones, who only needed reading glasses. The simplest reading glasses are a problem where there is no doctor nor an optician. Sometimes one can buy standard Chinese glasses from simple vendors, but people are worried that their eyes might deteriorate if they didn't use the proper ones. What if there "too much medicine" in the glasses? It happens frequently, especially in villages, that one person in the street has spectacles, and if another one has to read something in a hurry or a tick has to be removed, we simply send the kids to the neighbour to borrow the glasses. We arrived in Lubao on the evening of the sixth day. We made hurried enquiries as to where the eye specialist from Kabinda was seeing patients, and where one has to make an appointment. "The eye specialist from Kabinda? Dr. Richard? He is not in Lubao! He has never been here!"
Well, this was bad news indeed. We managed to locate a patient who had recently returned from Kabinda, and he gave us the telephone number of the doctor's assistant in Kabinda. He is called Patient. We rang Patient that same evening, and he told us that Dr. Richard was there in Kabinda. He also told me to hurry as they were getting ready for an ophthalmologic mission to Mbuji Mayi. The next morning we took ourselves to Kabinda. The rest of the people turned back dejectedly... but I said that I won't go back in the state that I am, I must meet the doctor. Lubao to Kabinda is about 200 km, and we managed to do it in five days. We started to get weary, and the weather didn't favour us either; we were forced to stop several times by tropical downpours. The bicycle too needed constant repairs… At last, toward the evening of a Tuesday, the hills of Kabinda came into sight. A friendly mulami (the catechist who teaches the catechism in the village and guides the community prayer) put us up for the night, and early next morning we were already at the outpatients part of the hospital. We found it a bit suspicious that there weren't too many people there, but the main thing was that a professional would at last be able to examine me and let me have an opinion about my eyesight! We were given a friendly welcome. The examination lasted about ten minutes: first Patient shone a light on my eyes from various direction and asked me to indicate the direction of the light; then the doctor examined me with some special instrument, and declared: "You have cataracts on both eyes, and you need operations. After that your sight will probably be alright." Great! – I said – then please do it straightaway, that's what we came for! "If only I could", said Dr. Richard. "The trouble is that we are leaving for Mbuji Mayi tomorrow with Patient, and we have closed the surgical schedule several days ago. Anyway, we have already sent off the equipment yesterday, and we are leaving tomorrow morning… We are coming back here, to Kabinda, only in three months time." When I heard this, I felt like crying in desperation. We came 400 km on foot, and it seems there is no solution for my problem. Is there a jinx on me?
After some lengthy consideration, the doctor came up with a way out: "the only solution seems to be that you come with us to Mbuji Mayi, and we'll operate on you there." Well, that was the last straw! We don't know anyone in Mbuji Mayi, it's 150 km to the east of Kabinda and has a very bad reputation, where banditry is thriving. The people are mining diamonds there, and everybody wants to get rich easily and very fast. And tell me, Doctor, even if we can get somehow to Mbuji Mayi, how much does a cataract operation cost there? "In our ophthalmic centre in Mbuji Mayi a cataract operation costs $75$ (60,000 francs)", was the disheartening reply. I felt my world collapsing around me. Only the Good Lord could help me now! All we have got is 50,000 francs. "But the money is no problem", said the doctor. "Go now, and book places in the car that we are taking tomorrow. The rest we shall work out somehow with the leftover money."
The brief family council came to a quick decision: my son and I would leave for Mbuji Mayi, while the others would wait for us here in Kabinda. According to the doctor, if all goes well, we can meet up here again in a fortnight's time, and by then I shall see again!
01 Paul Kawumbu en route between Kabinda and Mbuji Mayi...
That's what we did. It took as about eight hours to get to Mbuji Mayi. We rode in a Land Cruiser, and the only obstacles we encountered were broken down trucks. We were charged 30,000 francs for the fare. I started to get worried; all that we'll have left is 20,000 francs. What will that cover? My two eye operations? And what will we use for food? And where will we live? But Patient's encouraging words relieved our worries, and we left our fate in the hands of Providence.
We were welcomed enthusiastically on our arrival in Mbuji Mayi. That is when I became acquainted with Simon Pierre, the male head nurse of the COR, his family and the rest of the COR's staff. After a nice dinner that evening, we talked away on the terrace. I told the doctor about our trip, about the many hardships along the way, about how I actually used to live in Lubumbashi, that's where my house is, but while visiting the extended family in Kongolo, the misfortune of my sickness befell me, and I was ashamed to go home in this state. Kongolo and Lubumbashi are in the same county but 1,000 km apart...
The following morning I was the first patient seen by the doctor, and he scheduled me for surgery. We agreed that I would pay the balance of my money, 20,000 francs ($25), for the two operations. That left us without any funds.
They started with my left eye; the operation took about 30 minutes and wasn't painful at all. I could hardly wait for the next day, when the bandage would come off. The following morning it became reality: I experienced a miracle, the world opened up for me, I could see again! Words cannot do justice to what I felt, I hugged my son, and the only thing that clouded our joy was that we couldn't share that moment with the rest of the family. The world opened up before my eyes once again, I no longer needed a cane nor a guide, I had become a free man once more.
Mosolygos masodik kep
Paul after the operation on his right eye (at the Centre Ophthalmologique, Mbuji Mayi, April 25, 2009)
After that, all I did was watch the time go by, waiting for the surgery on my other eye. This happened exactly in a week's time. We lived next to the Ophthalmological Centre, and were given a daily meal. Simon Pierre's wife cooked for, and as is the custom here, we ate once a day. A week after my second operation, the doctor let us leave. "You can go home now, but you have to use the medicine for one more week", he said. "I managed to get transport for you as far as Kabinda. The car is a bit rickety, but the owner is an excellent mechanic, you can be sure that he'll get you there. The doctor even gave us some spending money, I asked him for it, as we didn't have anything left. Who knows how long we'll be en route, and one has to eat, after all.
Farewell evening with Paul Kawumbu
The old bomb of a car (a Land Rover some 25-years old)) crawled along with us, until around 6.00 in the evening it suddenly stopped, making a horrible sound. Within moments the rear undercarriage was taken to pieces; "a broken axle", the owner told us.
That night we stayed in Kalundue Musoko....

0203

That same night the two mechanics took the half axle to town and welded it.
Next morning our car zoomed, as if reborn. We didn't even mind that a few bicycles overtook us… because by the evening we arrived in Kabinda!
That's as far as it goes. After that Paul Kawumbu vanished. He had promised to keep in touch and let us know how he was going. He probably lost our telephone number. One thing is sure: he hasn't forgotten us. I hope that since he has set out from Mbuji Mayi (six weeks ago), he has arrived safely at home, and together with his family praises the workings of the Lord. We did everything for him in the name of the Lord, with the help of Hungarian donations. I am certain that we shall meet again. Perhaps if we shall have the strength and opportunity we shall go on an ophthalmological mission to Kongolo one day. The Congo is a vast country. It is mainly time that is lacking for such missions (and a good car). I would never have thought that I would be able to plan my program ahead for six months. A mission is worthwhile only if it lasts at least three weeks. That gives us time to give postoperative care and to examine approximately 1,000 patients... It is not surprising that a year passes so quickly! We don't have time to be bored during a mission!
Brother Richard, June 15, 2009 in Mbuji Mayi.