The atmosphere was totally electric inside the stadium as well as all of the surrounding areas in downtown Atlanta. There appeared to be thousands of Congolese fans or Congo fans, I should say.

Toes are not made for end-of-toe kicks, so I quickly learned to imitate my playmates by kicking with the top of the foot. No one had shin guards, so we all took care not to hit shin on shin too often. We could play on most any surface, large or small, with a couple of sticks to mark each goal.

Growing up in Congo was wonderful. While I was home-schooled I spent mornings doing my schoolwork and then after lunch I went off to meet my buddies to hang out with them until suppertime. My parents never worried about me because they knew that all the Congolese on the station would look out for me. I loved the freedom. We went fishing, canoed along the bank of the river, played soccer and other games, walked to Mbandaka (six miles each way), walked into the jungle…

…when she returned for a brief visit to Bolenge over 30 years after she had had to give up the work she loved, students who heard on the grapevine of her presence walked many miles to greet her and recount how hard she had made them work and how, when the time came for them to take state examinations for employment, they found easy what their fellow candidates struggled with. Nothing they could have said could have pleased her more, for teaching was a much-loved vocation.