We met each Sunday in a stuffy, rented cement-block building in a neighborhood that even the local members shied away from after dark. The building had just enough rooms for a chapel, president’s office, Relief Society room and storage area for keeping the bottled water for the sacrament. There was no running water, and electricity was spotty at best. Our Young Men and Young Women shared a small building located next to the chapel that they reached by stepping over streams of mud and sewage.
The country had yet to be dedicated for missionary work, but there we were, worshiping with faithful Saints in Luanda, Angola. Our branch consisted of mostly native Angolans and three American families.
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