THE LIFE OF RICHARD WILLIAM MUELLER, JR.
(Continued)

Dad’s Autobiography – Chapter 7 – In Book, Page 13

Matero, First Sunday in Northern Rhodesia, Lost Wheel, New/Old Car, Worship Services, Matero, Chibolya, Disappointments, Language, Sadness, New Interpreter, Expanding Mission Field in Lusaka, English

Matero! Finally, at the far northwest corner of Lusaka, we came to Matero. It is an African compound of more than 25,000 inhabitants. They live in three-room houses built by the government. One of the rooms serves as a cooking area. The other two are bedrooms — or a living room and a bedroom. However, most of the cooking is done outdoors. There is no plumbing in the building. Water is gotten from a stand-pipe nearby. The toilets are enclosed, but common to a number of houses. I have seen twenty-five people living in one of those homes. Children often sleep sitting up against one of the walls.

FIRST SUNDAY IN NORTHERN RHODESIA

Lost Wheel! Being the newest missionary on the mission field, the oldest vehicle was turned over to us for our use. It was a Chevrolet Carryall, big enough to carry our family and many, many parishioners. As we drove along the dirt road into Matero following Missionary Essmann and his wife, suddenly we saw a wheel going down the road in front of us. As we wondered where it had come from, it suddenly dawned on us that it was a wheel from the vehicle we were driving. Then, with quite a thump, the right front end of the Carryall dropped to the ground. We skidded to a stop at the high dirt bank at the side of the road.

Harold (Missionary Essmann) did not see what had happened. Even if he had looked into his rear view mirror, he would not have seen us. The dust was too thick. When he did realize that something had happened, he returned to pick us up, but not until a crowd of Africans had gathered to see what had happened. They marveled at the sight, even as we did. Another memorable welcome to Africa.

New/Old Car! The Carryall was old. Now it was toast. The spindle had broken. It was time for a new vehicle. That new vehicle, purchased that same week, was a small Opel station wagon, big enough for our family, two adults and two children, baggage, an interpreter, and a parishioner or two, or three, or four, or more.. That vehicle was introduced to bush roads that very week – with questionable results. We were following the Essmanns to the mission station at Mwembezhi. The road was dusty. We could hardly see the Land Rover in front of us. All of a sudden we hit a dip in the road – a sharp dip. We hit it so hard that the front wheels lost alignment. The alignment now was a reverse splayed alignment – the wheels turned inward. When we took it to the Opel garage, the mechanic could not understand how that could happen. Wheels usually turn outward. Anyway, now we were driving a new – but well broken in vehicle.

WORSHIP SERVICES

Matero! When we arrived in Northern Rhodesia, our Worship Services in Matero were being held in a Community Center. It was a building with a stage and a seating capacity of about 200. The church was in the process of being built – a large brick traditional style church with a capacity of about 200. The pews were simply made – a plank set on wooden risers. The church had a proper chancel with altar, lectern, baptismal font, a sacristy, and toilet facilities – designed for the African membership. It, too, had been designed by Missionary Kohl – and would be completed within our first year in Northern Rhodesia.

I shall never forget our first Pentecost Worship Service. We were gathered together in that Community Center. The doors were open at the back of the room. I could see through them from my vantage point on the stage. As I was preaching, I saw one of the whirly-whirls (a little whirlwind), which are common to Central Africa, coming straight toward those open doors. The congregation could not see it, but I could. What a shock they had when it came through those doors. The whole building shook. It was as though Pentecost was happening all over again. In a way, it was. Precious souls were being told of the wonderful work of the Holy Spirit. Souls were being turned to Christ, the one and only Savior from sin.

Chibolya! That was the name of the other African compound where we conducted Worship Services. It was not only a small compound, but it was also the most primitive and the most lawless of all the African compounds. Many houses were made of mud block with zinc roofs, but others were built with sticks and cardboard. There were also holes in the ground where people lived. It was so uninviting that the African who served as my interpreter told me, “If I would not be with you, I would not come here.” But we did go there because the people there had souls, too. Yes, even the malformed midget we met there had a soul that Jesus had died for. He, and everyone there, needed to hear the saving message of salvation. They needed to hear that their sins of theft and murder deserved the punishment of eternal damnation. But they also needed to hear that Jesus had paid for all those sins on Calvary’s cross.

DISAPPOINTMENTS

Language! We came to Lusaka with no knowledge of the language spoken widely in Northern Rhodesia, (Zambia). That language was Chinyanja. It was not a language native to the part of the country in which we were to live. It was a language which was brought to Central Northern Rhodesia by those who had moved there from the country to the east – Nyasaland (Malawi). Those people had moved to what became known as the line-of-rail. A railway line ran through Africa from north to south – through Lusaka – and brought work with it. These people had come to find that work. Amazingly, those people did not learn the language of the land to which they had come. Rather, they brought their language with them – and many of the people of Northern Rhodesia learned that language – and spoke it – especially on the line-of-rail.

An interpreter was a must. I was asked to be the pastor of two congregations. I was asked to preach, to teach, and to visit Africans in their homes. As I spoke, I would speak in English and the interpreter would translate what I had said into Chinyanja. Mr. Mwambula was that interpreter. I had inherited him from the missionary whom I replaced. He was a kindly man – and faithful in his services to our mission.

Sadness! Sad to say, only a very short time after our arrival on the mission field, a tragedy took place in his family. His wife committed adultery. She did repent of her sin. She acknowledged her sin – publicly – to the members of the Matero congregation and received their forgiveness – as well as the forgiveness of our loving Lord. However, it was not long after that both she and her husband left the church.

New Interpreter! Now I was without an interpreter. It was my desire not to employ another interpreter. It was my intention to use volunteers from among those who had professed their faith in Christ Jesus – and to the teachings of the Lutheran Church of Central Africa. I thought that this procedure would force me to learn the language of the country quickly – and I believe it would have. But when this thought was communicated to the Executive Committee for Central Africa, it was dismissed. I was told to employ another interpreter. That interpreter turned out to be Mr. Kaluluma – a man who became my close friend and a friend of my family.

EXPANDING MISSION FIELD – IN LUSAKA

English! My first missionary obligations were to Matero, Chibolya, and an English speaking congregation in the city of Lusaka itself. This congregation was made up of people of German (South African) and Swedish descent. Two families were farmers, one was married to a sign painter, another was married to a metal fabricator. Within those families were quite a number of children – which made it possible for us to have a Sunday School program and some meaningful, and elaborate Children’s Christmas Worship Services. Sad to say, after one of those Worship Services all of the children’s costumes (angels, shepherds, wise men) were stolen from members’ cars as we enjoyed an after-worship Christian fellowship.

There were some in the United States who called this congregation a European congregation, which was far from the truth. It was an English speaking congregation – a fact which was borne out as Northern Rhodesia proceeded on its way to independence. One Sunday morning, a number of Africans came to the place where we were worshiping. It was obvious that they were testing us to see whether they would be welcome or not. They were. They attended our Worship Service but, sad to say, those men never came back to worship with us again. They had found out what they wanted to find out. However, as time went on, more and more English speaking Africans did worship with us. The color of our skin was different, but the color of our hearts was the same – the color of sin, but washed white in the blood of the Lamb.