They stayed in Strasbourg while Albert recovered. When word reached the mayor that Albert was there, he visited and offered Albert a job at the city hospital. Albert gladly accepted. At the same time, the Church of St. Nicholas asked Albert back to serve as curate, even offering him the unoccupied parsonage to live in.
On November 11, 1918, the war came to an end with the signing of an armistice between Germany and the Allies. Under the terms of the armistice, Germany was to retreat from all occupied territory in France and Belgium, including Alsace, and remove its forces to the eastern side of the Rhine River. The area of Alsace-Lorraine along the western side of the Rhine was to be annexed by France as it had been before 1871. This brought tremendous upheaval. French forces occupied the area, and all Germans who’d settled there after 1871 were deported back to Germany. This included Hélène’s parents, who moved to Heidelberg, leaving seven-months-pregnant Hélène in Strasbourg at a time when she needed their support the most. On the other hand Albert, a descendant of French citizens prior to 1871, was granted French citizenship.
Slowly things began to settle down in Alsace. Families adjusted to the deaths of fathers and husbands during the fighting, rubble was cleared away, and buildings were repaired. Food was still scarce, but Albert knew that his friends in Germany were in worse shape. He often filled a knapsack with food he could spare and walked over the Rhine bridge into Germany to mail it to Richard Wagner’s widow, Cosima, and other friends.
A few days before Christmas 1918, Albert received an invitation from Archbishop Nathan Söderblom to come to Sweden after Easter to deliver a series of lectures at the University of Uppsala. At first Albert didn’t think he would have the energy to do so, but the archbishop insisted.
On January 14, 1919, Albert’s forty-fourth birthday, Hélène gave birth to a daughter whom they named Rhena.
Despite the joy of their new baby, both Hélène and Albert were exhausted and depressed. They decided to go to Sweden and take the baby with them. Archbishop Söderblom invited them to stay at his house. In Sweden, Albert’s first lecture at Uppsala University was based on his thoughts regarding reverence for life. He was uplifted by the students’ response to it, and his joy returned.
One afternoon as he strolled with Archbishop Söderblom in his beautiful garden, Albert let down his guard. He spoke of his despair at ever returning to Lambaréné. He told the archbishop how he’d borrowed money from the Paris Evangelical Missionary Society and some friends to keep the hospital going, and how he had to pay that all back, as well as raise more money, if he was ever to return. Archbishop Söderblom listened sympathetically and then challenged Albert to have faith. He pointed out that people all over Europe needed to hear Albert’s uplifting organ music and lectures. Surely he could give concerts and lectures to raise money. Albert wasn’t so sure, but the archbishop insisted it would work. He even offered to set up speaking engagements for Albert. Invigorated by the archbishop’s faith in him, Albert took up the challenge.
Archbishop Söderblom was right. Within a year of giving concerts and lectures, Albert had paid off his debts, quit his hospital job, and returned to Guns-bach to be his father’s curate. This gave him time to write and plan for his return to Africa. He wrote to the missionary in Lambaréné with whom he’d left his manuscript to have it returned to him. While he awaited its arrival, Albert read through all the newsletters he and Hélène had sent home from Gabon. He edited them into a book and added additional information. The book, On the Edge of the Primeval Forest, was published in German, then translated into English, Dutch, French, Danish, and Finnish.
Albert continued giving organ recitals and lectures across Europe, going as far afield as Great Britain and Czechoslovakia. In spring 1923, he completed the first two volumes of The Philosophy of Civil-ization, which were published the same year to much acclaim. Following this, Albert wrote a short book titled Memoirs of Childhood and Youth in response to the many questions hundreds of people had asked about his early life.
In February 1924, Albert felt ready to return to Lambaréné. He had used some of his earnings to buy a house in the Black Forest at Königsfeld, Germany. Hélène felt more at home there, especially since it was near the clinic where she was being treated for her ongoing lung condition. Albert and Hélène agreed it would be best for her and five-year-old Rhena to stay there for a while. Albert hoped to get the hospital at Lambaréné up and running again and then return to Hélène and Rhena in Germany to assess what their next step as a family should be.
Chapter 14
Adolinanango Bantu
On Tuesday, April 15, 1924, Albert once more boarded the paddle steamer Alémbé for the trip up the Ogowe River. Noel Gillespie, an eighteen-year-old student from Oxford University, was making the trip with him. Albert had met Noel during a lecture tour of England. Albert had offered to pay Noel’s way to Africa if he would go with him to Lambaréné, do some general work at the hospital, and help Albert learn English. Noel had eagerly agreed to go along.
Six years had passed since Albert left Lambaréné, yet as the paddle steamer headed upriver, it seemed to him as though nothing had changed. The vegetation still protruded into the river, making it hard to tell where the jungle ended and river began, while birds still circled overhead and the ever-present monkeys jostled in the treetops. It felt good to be back in Equatorial Africa.
As the Alémbé steamed on, Albert chuckled, recalling the customs officer’s reaction when he inspected Albert’s baggage in Bordeaux before departure. On the voyage, Albert planned to reply to a lot of letters. In fact, he had brought so many letters aboard that they filled four potato sacks. The customs officer frowned as he observed the first sack, then the second. By the time he spotted the fourth sack, he was muttering to himself that he’d never seen anyone travel with so many letters. He then tipped out the first sack and began looking inside each envelope. Albert knew he was looking for French banknotes. It was strictly forbidden for a person to travel outside France carrying more than 5,000 francs. Albert watched for an hour and a half as the officer closely examined the letters one by one. It was a daunting task, and when the officer reached the bottom of the second sack of letters, the he gave up. He let out a deep sigh, shook his head in disbelief, and waved Albert on.
During the voyage Albert worked diligently, writing replies to most of the letters while Noel helped him answer those written in English.
At noon Saturday, Albert and Noel arrived at the hospital at Lambaréné, or at least what was left of it. Even from the river Albert could see it was in terrible disrepair.
The five missionaries currently running the boys’ and girls’ schools came to meet them. One of the men, Charles Herrmann, told Albert he’d been able to keep the roofs on the buildings until about a year ago, when they ran out of roof tiles and were unable to procure more because of a labor shortage. After two major exhibits of African wood in Europe, demand was up and the timber trade was booming once more in the Ogowe River Basin. Almost all the available local men were back working for the timber companies and earning top wages.
Back at the mission compound, as if drawn by a magnet, Albert walked up the hill toward his jungle home. The land was so overgrown he could hardly trace the well-trod path that he and Hélène used to follow. His house was smothered in vines, saplings pushed through the floor, and sunlight shone though gaping holes in the roof, but the place was still standing, and inside the house his piano was undamaged.
Next Albert fought his way through the long grass to what remained of the hospital. All that was left was the corrugated iron building housing the consulting room, operating room, dispensary, and sterilizing room. The framework of one of the large raffia-paneled wards still stood. Surveying the scene, Albert knew that his first job was to repair the rotten, leaky roofs of the buildings that were still standing. He and Noel could then tackle the task of reopening the hospital.
That night the sound of drums throbbed across the jungle, carrying the news that the oganga had returned to Lambaréné. Once more, injured and sick people found their way up and down the river to the mission compound. Using the new supply of drugs he had brought with him, Albert treated patients in the mornings and served as building overseer during the afternoons. Because of the labor shortage, he had to make do with “volunteers”—usually family members of patients—who worked unenthusiastically and disappeared from the job whenever Albert wasn’t there to cajole them on.
The hospital repair effort received a boost when Emil Ogouma, a local timber merchant, loaned Albert five of his workers for two months until their work contracts ran out. These workers undertook most of the urgent repairs, leaving Albert and Noel free to paddle from village to village begging for roof tiles. Their task was made more difficult because of the prolonged wet season. Albert waited impatiently for the rain to stop, but it just kept falling.
On July 18, 1924, Mathilde Kottman, a nurse from Colmar, arrived to help Albert. It was still raining two months into the supposed dry season, leaving the river flooded and everyone ankle deep in mud. Because of the conditions, the local men couldn’t go fishing and crops couldn’t be planted. While Albert worried about this situation, he also had personal things to be concerned about. Ulcers had broken out on his legs and feet, making it difficult for him to walk or stand while treating patients. He hadn’t experienced this before, and ultimately he had to spend several days in bed waiting for his heavily bandaged legs to stop swelling and for the ulcers to drain.
In August Noel returned to England. Albert was sad to see him go. Noel had been a willing worker, whether he was washing bottles or erecting roof beams. Regrettably, Albert had not had as much time as he would have liked to study English with Noel. Three months after Noel’s departure, another helper, Dr. Victor Nessman, a new graduate from medical school, arrived. Albert was delighted. Three medical workers were now at the hospital—two doctors and a nurse, and all from Alsace. Better still, Albert’s old friend and former translator, Joseph Azoawani, returned to work at the hospital. Albert welcomed him warmly.
The year 1925 began well in Lambaréné. On January 14 Albert celebrated his fiftieth birthday, and at the end of the month a twenty-eight-foot-long motorboat with a 3.5-horsepower engine chugged up to the mission compound. The vessel was a gift from hospital supporters in Sweden who’d taken up an offering to buy it for the hospital staff. With its shallow draft and narrow beam, the boat was well suited to conditions on the Ogowe River. On its side was painted the name Tack så mycket, Swedish for “Many thanks.” Albert was grateful for the gift. The boat could carry five people with luggage or twelve without. It also had a long canvas canopy to shield passengers from the sun. Albert looked forward to taking the Tack så mycket to bring urgent medical care to villages up and down the river.
Everyone was also thankful when two more workers arrived at Lambaréné—Dr. Mark Lauterburg from Switzerland, and a young widow named Emmy Martin from Alsace. Emmy had been one of Albert’s staunchest supporters from the start. She had collected items for use in the hospital and had always helped when crates needed to be packed in Strasbourg for shipment to Africa. While she had no formal medical training, Emmy offered to do whatever necessary to help with hospital administration.
In May 1925 Albert received a letter from his sister in Alsace, informing him that their father had died at age seventy-nine. His father had seemed to lose the will to live after Albert’s mother was killed during the war. After hearing the news, Albert thought nostalgically about the family home in Gunsbach. The house belonged to the church, and now another Lutheran pastor and his family would move into the place. It seemed strange to contemplate that Albert no longer had a home to return to in the village he’d loved his whole life. It was the end of an era for him.
