This is part one is a four part series.
Aime Mbuyi was a Congolese revolutionary, and Steffy Katakumbani was a teenager in school. She was being raised in a Latter-day Saint home—in fact, her older sister was preparing to serve a mission; he was thinking about ways to accomplish the revolutionary aims.
It was Aime’s grandfather who persuaded him to look into Mormonism. “He said that it was a good church,” Aime reports. “It gave the youth opportunities for a good education and helped them become good citizens of the country. He said many things about the Church, but I did not show that I was interested.”
Out of curiosity, Aime visited an LDS Church in Kinshasa, Democratic Republic of Congo. This is his description of that first encounter:
I entered. I passed the chapel and found myself in the bishop’s office. I do not remember what was taught that day at church, but I remember my impressions. I was impressed by the attitude of the young men my own age who blessed the sacrament. They were like angels.
He was baptized soon after, but kept his baptism a secret and continued attending revolutionary camp meetings. His mother told him he would need to choose now. According to his memory, she said, “Aimé, now that you have received the gospel of Jesus-Christ, I think you must stop your meetings and your organization. You have become a disciple of Christ.”
As Aime contemplated the camp meetings where he and his friends had studied the Congo’s tragic past and the crimes done there by Anglos, he realized that the revolutionary leader “was building hate” in all of them. As he became a missionary, he set a personal goal to prove that black and white could get along. And prove it he did. He came to love and was loved in return by several Anglo companions.
As I wrote that first email to Aime, something divine threads must have converged, for in meeting him—even just through email—my life and my path would change.
Steffy, at this time, was continuing her studies, unaware of a Congolese missionary serving nearby her beloved Kinshasa.
They met after his mission. A fellow returned missionary introduced them, and Aime was smitten. Steffy, however, was not immediately impressed:
“The first time I met Aimé he didn’t please me,” she admits. “I took pleasure in making life difficult and sometimes in not being nice. He apologized too much even when he didn’t do anything. He pampered me no matter how I treated him. After a while I started to feel bad and decided to stop being mean.”
Steffy’s teasing was not the biggest obstacle the couple would meet, however. Her father was determined that Steffy would finish university education before marriage, that she was still too young to be a bride. So, when Aime went to the house to propose, he was summarily turned away by Steffy’s father, and told to never return. Steffy’s cell phone was taken away so that she couldn’t communicate with this man she was starting to love.
None of this opposition stopped them, however. Steffy used friends’ cell phones to call Aime, and they quietly decided they would marry. But they didn’t want to do it against her parents’ will.
Aime’s plan was simple: service. He looked for every little way in which he could inconspicuously serve Steffy’s father. At the funeral of a mutual acquaintance, Aime did all he could for Steffy’s father, and continued finding reasons to visit the home—not for Steffy, but to do some act of service.
It worked! In time, the father mentioned the “young man” who was so kind to him. He liked that young man, he said. Now Steffy made her announcement. “Ba papa, do you remember the man who came here to propose to me?” He nodded. “It was Aime. He is the one who has been so kind to you.”
Aime wrote to me about the change in Steffy’s parents: “My relationship with her parents is getting closer. Her dad seems to like me more, so does her mom. Yesterday, I had the visit of Steffy and her younger brother and sister. Steffy’s mother allowed them to come to my place. So we are becoming a family. I have an appointment with Steffy’s father this coming Wednesday. He has asked that I come with the truck I drive to help him carry some stuff home.”
They liked Aime, but Steffy, they declared, was still too young.
By this time, there was another pressure. Aime had been accepted to an American university on the condition that he be married. He could either marry someone else and accept this offer, or he could risk losing his university education and wait for Steffy.
After days of meditation, he wrote this to the university’s admissions committee:
The condition you have given me which is that I must get married in order to go to the university is not helping me grab the opportunity. I wish I could do that, but the situation I am in does not allow marriage to happen. Steffy Katukumbani my girlfriend. Her parents don’t agree with the idea of marrying her at this age and Steffy herself does not want to be married at this age either. The dilemma I face is that I love Steffy. She is the one that I want to marry. I cannot break up with her.
Steffy could not help but see how deeply devoted Aime was to her. He had just given up his education for her.
Steffy describes the continuing courtship in these words:
I was on vacation at my sister Jocy’s, and Aimé knew it. I think that my brother-in-law had informed him (he was his accomplice from the start). Then one afternoon he came and visited us and brought me a little box of candy and an envelope. I thought it was a love letter. I opened the envelope and to my great surprise I saw that it was a card with a picture of the Salt Lake City temple. . .I liked very much the fact that he was hooked on (i.e., devoted to) the gospel and especially that I felt myself safe with him. He was attentive, and everyone could say that he truly loved me. It was obvious. The most interesting part took place several weeks before my marriage. Oh, I was really afraid; I asked myself questions about my studies, about the path I should take. I started having nightmares with me pregnant while in the audience taking a class; with me being a mother and doing housework. And I cried. I was stressed out and even wanted to end the relationship. I talked to my sister Jocy and my little brother. Both of them, and my brother-in-law too, thought I was crazy and counseled me to pray that God would give me courage. I prayed fervently, and after my prayer, I felt peace.
Marriage in the Congo, however, is no simple matter. More challenges awaited.
END OF PART I
(Part 2 will describe the various rituals, including the bride price, for Congolese weddings.)
Margaret Blair YoungFebruary 3, 2015
Ann, how lovely to see your name! Hope you are doing well.
Ann Doutre MillerFebruary 2, 2015
I am enjoying this story and am anxious for the next installment Well written, as always.