Asher Kaufman, at 18, set out on June 28 for a yearlong trip to help spread the Children's Rosary in Europe and Africa. He spent the months of July, August and the first two weeks in September in France. He arrived in Uganda on September 15. From Uganda he traveled by car to Rwanda on September 28. After a week in Rwanda there was once more a return for more travel in Uganda. On October 11 he arrived in Tanzania and on October 26 traveled to Kenya. A visit for three weeks to Madagascar followed on November 7 and then South Africa. He spent several weeks in Cameroon and then the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC). The following dispatch chronicles his journey in Angola, South Africa and Mozimbique."Just after we left the Cathedral, the coast of Angola was hit by an unexpectedly severe rain storm.
After returning back to my room at the seminary, in the midst of completing work before going to bed, I began to notice water seeping in under the door. At first I did not think much of it; water had come in before during a previous shower. However, as I observed the floor under the door, I began to realize that the rapidly encroaching water was not abating in its progress; if anything, it was increasing. Nevertheless, since nothing of mine was sitting directly on the floor, I ignored it as best I could and soon went to bed.
Upon waking the next morning (Easter morning), I immediately noticed that the water had gone down from the levels at which I had last seen it the previous night. Not leaving much thought to this, I got ready for the coming day and emerged into the early morning drizzle.
Our Easter Mass in community with the seminarians was ornate and inspiring. It was celebrated by Fr. Mombo, and it was probably the shortest Mass I had attended during the whole Triduum. This was, of course, because it was not celebrated in the Cathedral but in our small community chapel.
After lunch, Fr. Mombo and I headed back to Fr. Belchior’s house(photo above). It was at this point that the severity of the rain storm became fully apparent to me. Unbeknownst to many of us in the community, roads were flooded and nearly washed out.
As we came down one of the main roads connecting Benguela and Lobito, I saw more than one car stuck in the stubborn slush on the roadside and even one car about 60% submerged. Our hardy Toyota Land Cruiser had to slog through water a few inches high in order to make it to Fr. Belchior’s. Fr. Mombo and I were very thankful when we finally pulled up in front of Fr. Belchior’s house.This was the final stretch at Fr. Belchior’s. We had a couple of days left in which we tried to find some special gifts to thank Fr. Belchior for his great hospitality. We had a last dinner with him early in the week before we set out for Luanda on Thursday. During that dinner, Fr. Belchior’s favorite team, Benfica (from Lisbon) was playing Arsenal (from London). He was clearly a passionate fan, freely offering advice to the players in the direction of the immutable television screen. We had arrived at the 90:00 minute mark and were beginning the penalty minutes; Fr. Belchior had just gone to grab his Benfica jersey and all of his gear when out of the blue Arsenal scored a goal. It was quite a deflating end to what had at that point been a scoreless game. One could almost feel all the air deflating out of the energized Lisbon stadium.
On Friday, we said goodbye to Fr. Belchior and boarded our bus to Luanda. It had been a blessed visit to Benguela, and we had much to be grateful for. The bus ride was as long as it had been on the way down, and perhaps even a little bit longer. Upon reaching the second-to-last stop, even the bus driver, who up until that point had remained rather silent, began making exclamations and remarks to anyone who would listen about road conditions, traffic, other drivers, and his desire to return home for the night.
I certainly sympathized. The traffic was inexorable and only growing worse as we sat there. For anyone who remembers my accounts from the Congo, this traffic was not as bad as what might be found in Kinshasa, but nevertheless, it was bad. Traffic inched for over an hour and a half before we finally reached the end of the interminable jam. It was a pitiful sight. There were some workmen, maybe about six or so, huddled about a single truck, in the midst of some small road project. This was what had snarled us for so long. Having made it past that hurdle, we were met by one of the gentlemen who is a friend of Fr. Mombo’s brother. He had been at the station with the car for well over an hour. He helped us to quickly make our way to my hotel where I would be spending the night.
The following two days very little of any significance transpired. I spent most of the time at the house of Fr. Mombo’s family, helping with household duties or simply keeping myself occupied. The only piece of actual business that transpired was when I stopped by the parish I had visited on my first day in Angola in order to meet with the children again and pray the Rosary with them one more time. That was on Friday morning.
On Saturday morning, Fr. Mombo picked me up and brought me to the airport. It was a sad moment, as many of these departures have been during this gap year. Every time one visit must come to an end, it is quite sad. However, nothing new will come of old wineskins, and so forward I went.
We had departed from the hotel significantly later than I had planned, so I was concerned that there would not be enough time at the airport for me to complete all that was necessary before the flight left. However, the airport, modern and spacious as it is, posed no problems in that regard. Soon, I was checked in and on my way to the gate. Only after clearing customs and security did I remember that I had roughly $100.00 in Angolan Kwanza that I needed to exchange, but by that point, the exchange bureaux were already on the other side of the perimeter, and I would have to see what I could manage in the Johannesburg airport.
The rest of my journey and arrival in Johannesburg proceeded without any remarkable occurrences. Gail picked me up at the airport and took me to stay with some nuns for the couple days before I would go to Mozambique. These were the Carmelite nuns in Benoni, right next to the airport. I passed a wonderful evening and Divine Mercy Sunday with the nuns, able to pray and attend Mass just steps from my room. Their campus is beautiful, with brown stone making up all of the buildings and scenic paths on which I could wander. In the evenings, the early autumn air carried the cold nip that indicated the coming winter. "On Monday, one of the leaders of the Children's Rosary named Greg, Gail and I had a very nice meeting with His Excellency, Msgr. Henryk Jagodziński, Papal Nuncio to South Africa, Lesotho, Botswana, Eswatini, and Namibia (photo below). Msgr. Jagodziński was supportive of our initiative and advised us on steps moving forward. He was happy to hear of the recent spread in South Africa. It was also clear that the Nuncio wished for us to approach the South African Bishops' Conference to further our efforts, advice we intend to act on." After the meeting with the Nuncio we set off for Mozambique. I was accompanied by a Fr. Ernesto, the parish priest of the Coronationville parish where Deacon Alpheus serves; he was the one to accompany me around South Africa the first time. Fr. Ernesto is a short, jovial man whose easygoing temperament hides a highly efficient and organized man underneath. Our drive to Mozambique took about six hours, much shorter than it might have taken, thanks to Fr. Ernesto’s fast driving.
We were traveling with a friend of Fr. Ernesto’s from Mozambique who was just beginning a time of ministry in South Africa.
Upon entering Maputo, we dropped the other priest off so that he could make his way to where he was staying. Fr. Ernesto then took me to a friend of his who had prepared dinner for us and was still waiting without any sign of concern at after 10:45 when we showed up. I was amazed at this level of hospitality, especially because, far from seeming upset about our delay, all she would say about it is that it was a long-awaited opportunity to have Fr. Ernesto over again.
That night, when we finally arrived at the house of the OMI order, the lights were nearly all off, and no one answered our repeated rings at the doorbell. It was rather reminiscent of the time I was in Dar es Salaam with Fr. Cleophus, except that this time I was with a local. Seeing that no one was opening, Fr. Ernesto took me to a nearby hotel where we were able to reserve rooms for the night. Despite our late arrival, we both determined to rise early in order to make it to Mass at the diocesan seminary at 6:00 a.m.
The next morning early Fr. Ernesto and I arrived at the seminary for Mass. The rector called up my companion and I to introduce ourselves since we were new faces. He did not realize that Fr. Ernesto was an old hand at the seminary since the latter had chosen to shave his beard. Only once Fr. Ernesto mentioned his name did the rector realize his mistake, to the great amusement of all.
The rector and his fellow priests after Mass extended the invitation for us to eat breakfast with them, which we accepted; subsequently, we passed by the OMI house where we were also offered breakfast. Fr. Ernesto rounded out the morning by showing me some of the highlights of Maputo, including the botanical gardens and the vast beaches. Apparently, Maputo can get quite hot in summertime (well past 40 degrees), but thankfully we were soares the extreme heat should we were there. Later in the day, we were able to visit a gathering of Mozambiquan bishops who were in the process of having a meeting of the Bishops’ Conference. I was able (thanks to Fr. Ernesto) to sit down with the auxiliary bishop of Maputo(shown below) who was very interested and supportive of the Children’s Rosary. He promised to present the apostolate to the other bishops gathered there. Once this meeting was completed, we, without wasting any time, turned our car around and headed for Johannesburg once more. Our visit to Mozambique was scheduled to be very short, and we had finished what we came to do.
That night, after arriving back at past midnight, Fr. Ernesto realized that he did not have the correct keys to open the gate to his parish, and so we had to go to another parish to sleep. It had been a short but packed trip to Mozambique.
After spending one day in Johannesburg, I was off again, this time for Botswana and Namibia. What became of me there and how the visit went will be the subject of the next dispatch."
To see all of Asher's dispatches from his journey click HERE
.jpeg)
