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In the Congo, Christianity and witchcraft mix in a spiritual stew of prayer and magic.

KISANGANI, Congo - It's Sunday afternoon near the banks of the legendary Congo River, and the faithful are rocking out. Under an open-air tent, constructed in part with blue refugee tarps from the

United Nations, the Kisangani Assembly of God Church is in full session.

Twelve men and women dressed in identical black suits and white shirts sing and dance to the Jesus beat, accompanied by keyboard, drum and guitar.

Far from unique, this kind of evangelical worship has found strong roots in the heart of Africa.

In the

Democratic Republic of Congo (formerly Zaire) -- a country incredibly rich in natural resources but still beset by poverty and nearly a decade of civil war -- Christian evangelism offers some respite, if not answers.

"Many people think that the growth of this kind of Christianity is due to the poverty we have in our country," says Pastor Bona Zongia, who has led this Assembly of God Church for the past eight years. "But in reality it is the fire of the Holy Spirit that fills the hearts of our people here in the Congo."

Roman Catholicism is still the predominant religion here, accounting for 50 percent of the population. But the Catholics had a head start. Missionaries were working the region in the 15th century. Under Belgium colonial rule in the early 20th century, Catholicism made even greater strides.

But Protestant missionaries from America started preaching in the Congo a few years after it gained its independence in 1960. Now a full 20 percent of the population are believers, and that number is growing.

More than just a belief system, evangelism seems to permeate daily life here: from the streets of Kinshasa to the jungles of Kisangani, people sell bibles and Christian paraphernalia everywhere.

Even shops that sell non-religious goods use Christian-based names, like the electronics store called "Disco La Bible" or the hard-to-forget "Blood of Christ Nails Salon" in the capital.

Kasonso Miango converted from Catholicism eight years ago.

"I was advised by my father," he says, " to look for the real house of God. I found it here."

Marsielle Mabanza, a deacon with the Kisangani Assembly of God Church, says he didn't used to believe in anything.

"My life was in chaos," he says. "I was drinking too much, committing adultery. My life was getting worse and worse -- if I didn't do something, I think someone's husband would've killed me." He's been with the church now for six years.

"We are winning souls at high speed, but we have a problem with true conversions," according to Zongia.

That problem, he says, is witchcraft.

"The Bible says in Thessalonians to abandon all idols," says Zongia, "but there is a cultural tradition here in Africa -- in French it's called Maribou (magic). There are so many people here that believe in this witchcraft and it's a corruption of the Christian beliefs."The Kisangani Assembly of God service is based on the American evangelical model: lots of music, singing and joyful worship. In fact, if it weren't for the setting -- religious banners in French and the African languages of Swahili and Lingali being spoken -- this celebration looks as if it could be on the banks of the Mississippi rather than the Congo. At this particular hour, it's even conducted in English. Despite the large acceptance of Christian evangelism here, there is a stumbling block to its growth: the adherence of many Congolese to their more mystical spiritual practices. They refuse to abandon one belief system for the other, instead mixing them together, much like Santeria (an amalgamation of voodoo and Catholic Saint worship that originated in Cuba). A practioner of Maribou seeking fertility help, Zongia says, may kill a goat. Someone who wants to get married may sprinkle the blood of a chicken."The problem," he says, "is that with Maribou, people believe that they can get what they want right away with a spell. With God and prayer -- it takes a lot longer."

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