July 8, 1959. I think I'll always remember this day! We arrived in the Congo about a week ago for Father's missionary work, after a long flight. I was so happy to get to our
rugthmayprice <-- Oh, that was Ruth May, trying to type! Pascal finally got her outside, though, thank goodness. Anyway, as I was saying, I was so happy to get to our house. Mama Tabata takes good care of us; she cooks very well, even though she rubs Father the wrong way sometimes. Speaking of Father, he is well, although he hasn't gotten anyone baptized yet. Oh well! I guess that's just because of the native cultures here.
--Leah
