Just how hot is it in Lobito?

It's really hot here. Like, Houston in August hot. (You New York City people might think you know what hot and humid is, but unless you've been in Houston in July or August, you've still got a bit of learning to do!)

People here sleep outside because it's way too hot to sleep indoors, as you can see with these tents. I took these at my old apartment building: the one at left is from an apartment on the first floor and held about 6 giggling kids. The one below is from the house next door, and held a small family of three. In the mornings when I run along the beach road, you can see rows of dozens of people laid out along the beach, seeking respite from the heat.

So, of course, in the middle of all this heat my air conditioner goes kaput. It's in my bedroom, the one room in the house that doesn't get much breeze. So I'm suffering a little. But thankfully haven't been forced to camp out. Yet.

Angola in New York Times!

Interesting article in today's New York Times about Angola's oil riches. It does a good job of showing just how much money Angola has the potential to earn and how the government feels no need to disclose what it does with it.

“Angola has no interest in transparency and there is no source of external leverage on the government right now,” said Monica Enfield, an analyst at PFC Energy, a consulting firm in Washington. “With all their oil revenue, they don’t need the I.M.F. or the World Bank. They can play the Chinese off the Americans.”

True to form, the Angolan government cancelled all talks with the IMF, claiming that they didn't need the IMF for economic stability.

Overall I thought the article did an okay job of touching on the major parts of the oil debate in Angola. Perhaps it is just my bias, but I thought they should have touched more on the development situation in the country. (Here is a UNDP fact sheet on Angola's poverty indicators. Table 2 is especially indicative.) When you look around a "rich" city like Lobito (where many of the oil companies have operations out of the port), you would never know that this country is earning billions of dollars in oil revenue. It's honestly quite depressing to see the poverty here, knowing that the government is earning so much money. We'll see how these Chinese infrastructure projects (building roads, railways) work out. Angola would be wise to invest in its people in order to avoid a situation like Nigeria.

(UPDATED to include permalink.)

Why I like Angola

From Bocoio, a municipality about 1.5 hrs from Lobito. I promise I did not alter the coloring on this photo. Spent a nice weekend there with friends, will tell more about it later.

Taken into Custody (almost)

Last week I went with colleagues to a funeral held for the sister of a colleague. It was a tragic death: his sister, only 34 with two young children, was outside washing dishes when the loose stone wall holding up the hillside collapsed, immediately killing her. The wall was illegally constructed by a neighbor who had powerful connections that protected him when others complained about the instability of the wall. All it took was one night of heavy rain for it to come down. The funeral was unlike anything I’ve ever seen, but I really don’t think that I can do it justice here.

What happened on the way back to the office is much easier to explain. There were 5 of us in the Land Cruiser, with me sitting in the front seat. In Angola and other developing countries, white Land Cruisers are synonymous with international NGOs. As we approached one of the commercial areas of town, we were flagged down by two people: one uniformed, female police officer and one plainclothes bureaucrat. Instead of asking for Ben’s (my Angolan colleague) driver’s license, they asked to see the personal identification of everyone in the car. I looked at the plainclothes bureaucrat’s badge, and it read DEFA, the dreaded arm of the Angolan government that deals with foreigners and their visas, the very department that has been causing me so much trouble lately! With the white Land Cruiser and me in the front seat, we were easy targets.

I had a slight moment of panic, because I had just cleaned out my purse from my South Africa trip the night before and removed my passport. I was relieved to find that I had a copy of my passport and DEFA stamp authorizing the extension of my visa. I did not have, however, a copy of my actual visa. I handed the papers over and hoped for the best.

Perhaps he sensed my apprehension, because before even looking at the papers, he said, “This is not good.” He didn’t even bother to look at everyone else’s identity cards. He asked to see a copy of the visa and when I couldn’t produce it, he shook his head. “Vai ficar detida,” he said. “She will be detained.” The female cop came around to my door and put her hand on the handle, either to open the door and get me out or make sure that I wouldn’t flee the scene. Ben explained that I was out of the country and had just returned to Lobito, and that I did have a visa, it was just with my passport at home. After much arguing, the guy allowed us to leave Ben’s identification with them as guarantee that I could go home, get my passport and return.

We dropped our colleagues off at the office and sped to my house to get my passport. We handed the passport to the DEFA cop and waited as he read it. He looked at all the stamps, then looked at me, and said, “What are you doing here?” Before I could answer, Ben said, “She’s here visiting,” which is exactly the answer I was told NOT to give. I am supposed to tell people that I am here as a consultant, a position that does not require a work visa but allows me to be in the country for longer than a tourist stay. “What?! That’s impossible!” the DEFA cop said. I piped up and said that I was a consultant. He then said, “You’ve been here too long. You need to get a work visa.” There were several things I could have said about the lack of cooperation from his department on this very matter but I chose to play dumb and say, “Oh yes, it’s true. É verdade.” He then asked to see my consultant paperwork from DEFA. This was the first I’ve heard of any such paperwork and said as much. He said, again, “Então vai ficar detida.” “So you will be detained.” This time the female police officer didn’t move and just sort of looked at the DEFA guy as if the say, “Come on!” They finally let us go.

Upon return to the office I found out that the consultant paperwork is something the employer files and keeps on record, nothing that I have to carry around with me. Later in the day, Angolan several coworkers reported that they too were stopped in the Land Cruisers and other foreigner friends were also stopped.

What’s the deal? Is it related to this lady in Cabinda? Is it related to the new law in Portugal prohibiting Angolans driving with Angolan driver’s licenses, prompting the Angolan government to enact a similar law outlawing Portuguese licenses, effectively immediately? (Here's a link to an article in Portuguese. This has caused quite a debate in the country, and the Portuguese residing in Angola are not happy about this reciprocal law. The new law means that Portugal no longer recognizes driver permits from Lusophone countries that are not a party to Vienna Convention on Road Traffic- like Angola.) Who knows. I now carry my passport around with me at all times, which makes me nervous, but I have no other option. I used to not worry about these things and often left the house without even a copy of my passport to go the store, but the thought of spending any time in Angolan police custody is enough to change that!

Great time killer

Bored and have a computer lying around? This is a high-tech version of a game that Peace Corps volunteers in the La Esperanza house will remember. After conquering states we'd head for the capitals, which was much harder.

50 States in 10 MinutesPublish

Back in Angola

Praia Morena, Benguela

Oh, Angola. I returned today and immediately have a headache. Coinicidence? I blame it on Luanda. It is oppressively hot and my cell phone refuses to work. Sigh.

Jo'burg was a nice place to visit. I shopped quite a bit and found things to make me happy in Lobito, like a corkscrew and cous-cous. I wish I could say I went on wonderful outings and discovered the spirit of South Africa, but I pretty much stuck to the hotel in my two free days. I was just so exhausted from a week of meetings and travel that the air-conditioned room and hot showers were enough to make it a nice trip.

I'll be glad to get back to Lobito, especially to my new apartment which I spent all of one weekend in before leaving. Of course, I will only get to spend one and a half weeks in it before I leave for Zambia for another regional meeting.

Culture Shock: Jo'burg

I’m in Johannesburg for a network meeting. I’ve been looking forward to this visit for a long time, mainly because it’s the first time I’ve left Angola since arriving at the end of August. As much as I like Angola, I needed a break.

I’ve often heard South African referred to as the “USA of Africa.” I’m not sure that I agree with that assessment, but upon arrival I can understand how many would come to that conclusion. After spending hours in various lines in the dirty, expensive (US$6 for a coke and pack of gum) international airport in Luanda, arriving in the clean, efficient airport in Johannesburg was a pleasant change. It was when the transport to my hotel arrived that I really began realize that I was in a very different place. The driver picked me up in a brand new Mercedes, which in and of itself was a jarring change from the beat-up Land Cruisers we tool around Lobito in. He refused to let me sit in the front seat and insisted that I sit in the back. As we pulled away I suddenly noticed that the roads were paved and without potholes. Drivers obey the traffic signals! No honking! Amazing.

I’m staying in Rosebank, which is a part of Johannesburg that many financial institutions and companies relocated to when downtown Jo’burg became too dangerous. It’s an upscale neighborhood, with luxury apartments and cars swarming around. It’s also green. We spend all day in the hotel, which is a corporate hotel that serves all meals. It’s getting a little old.

We did venture out to visit the Center for Study on Violence and Reconciliation (CSVR) and interesting South African NGO that covers an impressive range of social services, research, and advocacy topics. Afterwards we went to Soweto. It felt a bit strange- we didn’t go on a tour or visit any institution, we just drove around. Which felt a bit conspicuous in a huge tour bus! I feel strange about slum tours in general, so I wasn’t too keen on the idea, even though we were a bus full of well-intentioned development workers from various countries (I was one of two Americans, the rest of the group consisted of national staff from South Africa). Soweto wasn’t what I expected. First of all, I imagined one large slum, but learned that Soweto is an acronym for South West Townships and consists of several townships. Many of the townships in Soweto are now quite nice and could easily pass for American middle class neighborhoods. Comparing the townships to the neighborhoods in Angola, Soweto seemed well-off. It hardly recalled the image of oppression that is associated with the riots and apartheid. But we did soon stumble upon the tent houses and shacks that show the reality of being poor and black in South Africa.

One stop we did make was the Regina Mundi Catholic Church in Soweto. When oppression was at its worst in South Africa, all meetings except religious meetings were prohibited. Soon the church became an important meeting place for anti-apartheid groups. It was unremarkable in and of itself, but knowing the history of the building and its importance in the struggle was enough to give me the shivers.

Other than that, I haven’t really left the hotel, except to go to the mall with others to eat. Tomorrow, my first free day, is dedicated to commerce. Yes, my American commercial urges have been stifled in Angola, where there is nothing to spend my money on. As soon as I stepped off the plane, I was making a list of things to buy in my head.

Kwanza Cops

Leaving Luanda, I completely forgot that it is illegal to take Kwanzas (the Angolan currency) out of the country. Unfortunately for me, I didn’t remember this until I was shuffled into the currency declaration office of the airport. It was one of the stranger moments of my life.

There are two separate rooms in the currency declarations department, one for women and one for men. I didn’t realize this at first and got in the shorter line, which was the men’s line. The female official of the women’s line looked at me, hissed and grabbed her breasts then pointed at the women’s line. Words would have worked, but so did grabbing her breasts.

I got into the office and there was a rather large, stern looking woman sitting lazily at the desk. I sat down and she just looked at me. I said, “Bom dia,” and smiled, thinking I would win her over as one of the few foreigners who speak Portuguese. She just looked at me and slapped her hand down on the table, palm facing up. “Quantos?” she asked. How much? I asked her to specify and she said, “Money angolano.” At this point I remembered that it was illegal to take money out of the country, so I decided to be honest and play dumb. But I started to freak out and wonder if it was against the law to take large amounts of AMERICAN money out the country, and remembered the US$1,300 I brought to use for shopping in South Africa.

I came clean and said that I had around Kz. 2,000 on me. She cocked her eyebrow and shook her head no, and thrust her hand out again. “Por que? Tem que me dar tudo.” (Why? You must give me everything.) So I took out my money and gave her the Kz. 1500 or so (around US$22) that I had. She looked at it and said, “Where’s the rest of it? You said you had Kz. 2000.” I tried to explain that it was just an estimate but she didn’t believe me until I emptied out my entire wallet and purse.

She then said, “How many dollars do you have?” Then I started to sweat. I admitted to US$1000 (hoping she wouldn’t ask to see the money belt, which actually had US$1,300). She looked at me and said, “Where are the 500 Euros?”

Me: What Euros?

Lady Cop: You said you had EU 500.

Me: No, I don’t have any Euros.

Lady Cop says nothing.

Me: I’m American, I don’t have Euros.

Lady Cop: I’ve seen Americans with Euros. How many do you have?

Me: Zero. I don’t have any Euros.

Then she just stared at me and after a minute waved her hand. I asked if I could go and another lady cop appeared and told me I could go.

Lesson learned. Hide Kwanzas in the luggage or get rid of them at the gift shop before check-in.

Busy

This is been a very busy week: I moved offices, moved houses, took over a major project, got salmonella poisoning, and lost then found my digital camera. Phew!

Posting will be light in the next two weeks. I am going to Johannesburg, South Africa for a work conference- assuming I get my passport back from the DEFA void, where it was been since November. I'm ready to get out of Angola for a few days- I've been here for almost six months without leaving! I'm also very excited to go to Jo'burg for some shopping! The hotel where I will be staying is across the street from a mall, so I am VERY excited to go there and drop some cash. The American consumer in me has been dying with nothing but food and drink the spend money on in the last six months.

Congratulations, Liberia!

On the Voice of America-Africa's radio newscast this morning, they reported that Condi Rice and the State Department have promised cancellation of US$391 million in loans to Liberia- that's all of Liberia's debt with the government of the United States.

Liberia's total debt is around US$3.5 billion, and its total annual budget is around 1/40 that amount. In order to pay what debtors expect it to (around US$80-$100 million per year). Liberia's entire annual budget would go to its debtors.

The US government share of that represents 30% of the debt, so this is a very positive step.

There's a good fact sheet about Liberia's debt here.
And a SIPA classmate in Liberia runs this very interesting Libera blog.

Awesome Structures in Angola Series: Part 1

I saw this building in one of the markets in Cubal. A lot of stores have hand-painted signs on them, but this one stuck out. It says:

RABIES KILLS! BARBERSHOP WE MAKE CALLS

The name of the barbershop is "Barberia de Raiva", which literally translated means "The Rabies Barbershop" but it is also a play on words because in Portuguese (and Spanish, for that matter) when you are really angry, you can say you have rabies. "Que raiva!" Is the owner doing a community service, warning the people of Cubal about the dangers of rabies? After all, the barbershop already performs a community service by renting out a phone for those who don’t have their own. Then again, there's a lot of violence associated with this barbershop. Is the Rabies Kills Barbershop really the place you want to go for a shave or a trim?

In any case, we English speakers are also "WELLCOME" to get our barber services at the Rabies Kills shop.

News

Posting has been slow lately, mainly because I have seen a sharp increase in the amount of work I have to do. Why? Well, although it’s not yet official, it will be shortly: when headquarters approves it, I will drop the fellowship early and become a regular full-time employee- with full salary and driving privileges! Although I was pretty much guaranteed a job once the fellowship was over, I assumed that I would ride out the year and then have to leave Angola. However, I consider myself lucky both in that I get to switch over earlier (and drop all of the busy-work type work that I’ve had to do at times) and do more interesting work, but also that I get to stay in Angola. To say things were difficult at first would be an understatement, but around November I suddenly realized that I liked Angola and all the confusão. As difficult as life can be here, professionally and personally, there are also lots of rewards that come with being in such a dynamic place.

What will I be doing? There are basically two events that promoted my promotion.

1) As I’ve mentioned before, we are in the process of switching from emergency programming (where we were the direct project implementers) to traditional development with through local partners. As such, we are trying to forge new partnerships, entering into new programming areas and more or less shaking things up. Part of my job will be a “partnership manager” and I will assist our head of programming in deciding which partners to work with, establishing the projects, and doing diplomatic work. This will be great because we will be working in other provinces, like Huambo and Cunene, meaning that I will get out of Benguela and explore more of Angola.

2) My boss had spoken to me about staying on earlier, but in an informal way. However, two ex-pat colleagues are leaving us! (Both received promotions, one in Haiti, the other in the Democratic Republic of Congo.) The colleague that is leaving for Haiti leaves three projects- one basically manages itself thanks to our stellar program officer; another still has another year; and the final one has until the end of April. I will be managing these projects until they close. The big one is the one that ends in April- a HIV/AIDS prevention project that has a very large budget, which the local partner has not managed well! It will take a lot of diplomatic maneuvering, even in the last two months of the project. The second project is an institutional-strengthening project with a great and cooperative partner. In addition, I’ll be supervising the HIV-AIDS in the workplace policy staff, and other odds and ends.

Did I mention I’ll FINALLY GET TO DRIVE?!? It will be so nice to decide to go to ShopRite when I want to! To decide to go to the bigger, better market in Catumbela! To go to the amazing beach in Caotinho! First I’ll have to learn how to drive stick.

I’m also moving apartments! I’m leaving the big, heavily populated complex for a much smaller complex with a bigger apartment and coworker neighbors. I’m taking over the place from the coworker going to Haiti—and she’s leaving a bunch of stuff, which is nice. Even better is that the apartment have a water tank, so I won’t have to worry about city water shortages anymore. Considering that I haven’t have water in 8 days, I’m very happy about this.

So that’s why I’ve neglected writing lately

This explains it all...

This article helps explain the fashion I've seen in the developing world. (Warning: link will expire after one week.) Being able to choose what clothes you wear is a luxury in most developing countries. Ever wonder what happened to that box of clothes you left at the donation drop-off? Chances are it wasn't sent to a Goodwill but sold for CA$H. These donated clothes are usually rounded up and vaccuum-packed into big bales and sold overseas. In Honduras this used clothing was called ropa americana, or American clothes.

In Honduras, the rumor was that American only wore their once and then threw them away because they were so rich they could buy more clothes. Considering the quality of used clothing (totally wearable and decent) and the fact that due to financial constraints most Honduras wore their clothes until they fell off their bodies, I can see how they came to this conclusion.

In Angola, it is much the same, except that the used clothes here are a bit more expensive. (Either that or they charge me the white-person price.) Sports-related clothing are the most in-demand, thanks to hip-hop and Western musician styles. I was even pleased to see an old school Houston Astros t-shirt on a teen the other day. I'm not sports-savvy enough to know which team won what Super Bowl, but I'll pay more attention from now on.

How Things Work Around Here: Government Emergency Response Edition

As those of us in Angola know- but not many people outside know- there has been a series of torrential rains in Luanda and the surrounding areas, causing horrible flooding. Luanda is a sprawling city, with people arriving daily and just setting up tents wherever they can. Shanty towns sprout easily, and were washed away even more easily with all the rains. Around 100 people were killed, with several more missing. As if that weren’t enough, it’s cholera season yet again, and nothing says cholera like flooding and standing water.

So many NGOs are trying to figure out how to respond to the emergency. We don’t have any programs in Luanda, really, so as an organization the most we could do was give financial support. A colleague of mine who happened to be in Luanda during the rains attended the joint NGO/Government meeting where they tried to coordinate the programming response. Now, I wasn’t there so I don’t know for sure what happened, but I wasn’t surprised to hear what my colleague said happened.

Apparently, the head government official sat quiet through the presentations, looking angrier as time went on. Finally, at the end, he stood up and started to rage at all the NGO representatives, saying, “You call that a response?! You should be more organized? What kind of NGOs are you?”

Then a Portuguese woman, who wasn’t having any of that, stood up as well and said, “It’s the government’s responsibility to coordinate this response, not the NGOs’!” My colleague said the room went completely silent, and the government official just walked out. I’m sure the woman’s represented the overwhelming desire most NGO employees who deal with the government have to tell the government just how messed up it is. But then again, most people just smile and keep quiet because if you do say something, then you have no government help whatsoever.

And it's only getting worse...

Dozens die in Angola flash floods:

"We will put people in tents or in roofed shelters. We are seeing to it that the roads are quickly cleared of water before enforcing measures to prevent cholera," Mr Capapinha told reporters.

We happen to be moving our Luanda office this week. Wonderful timing.

The biggest concern is the spread of the cholera epidemic. With the urban chaos in Luanda, it will likely spread more quickly than before.

Turning 30 in Angola

I turned 30 on January 15. (Thanks for all of you who sent well-wishes!) With genius timing, my coworker, Salomé, who happened to be sitting next to me during a meeting on the actual date, asked if I had dyed my hair. I assumed that she meant dyed my hair lighter, because with all the time in the sun my hair has gone a shade lighter. I said that no, no dyeing, my hair just gets lighter in the sun. “No, no,” she said. “You have this big patch of white hair in the back of your head, so I was wondering if you had dyed your hair white.” Happy birthday, indeed!

War Stories

Picture of a mural in our former guesthouse. Village scene of Cubal. Villages like these in Cubal were largely abandoned because it was too dangerous for people to stay.

I went to Cubal again last week to meet with the director of a Catholic mission hospital that we are staring a project with. My driver was Domingos, someone I had never really had the opportunity to speak with before. The difficult road was even more treacherous thanks to all the rains, meaning that the trip would take 4.5 hrs instead of the usual 3.5 hours. So Domingos and I chatted it up. He taught me more Umbundu words and phrases- I now know how to say, “I’m fine, just plowing my fields.” (“Ocasí loco lavrá.”)

He also told me stories about the area during the war. He pointed out a little mountain that had two rock towers, and told me this story: the government forces (MPLA) were using air strikes to fight the UNITA (rebel) forces in the surrounding areas of Cubal. The UNITA forces were largely guerrilla, and hid in the mountains and jungles near Cubal. UNITA didn’t have planes, so the MPLA guys apparently felt confident. On a cloudy day, the pilot of one of the planes decided to go hot-dogging on his way to the airstrip outside Cubal. He went vertically and tried to pass between the two rock towers. Well, it was a little foggy that day, and the pilot couldn’t see very well and hit the edge of his wing when he came in between the towers. He then got nervous and tried to go back to horizontal position, but he hadn’t completely passed through the towers. The plane then crashed into the surrounding forests, which happened to be the area they had targeted for bombing. After that, the MPLA didn’t do any more air strikes near Cubal.

I stayed at the mission, which includes the hospital I was to visit. The mission is run by about 15 nuns, Spanish and Angolan. As Sister Milagros was giving me a tour of the hospital compound, she pointed out one building. “This building was the only one that was hit during the war.” It was an overnight room for patients, and it needed some painting, so in the morning they took everyone out of the room. The painters went to work. During the painters’ lunch break, the building was hit with a bomb.

Apart from this, the hospital was one of the few safe zones. People would leave their houses at night and seek refuge in the hospital compound. The government hospital across the road would kick people out at night and send them to the mission. They had so many people seeking refuge that they would secretly expand the fences of the compound, so they could fit more people in without anyone noticing.

On the way home, Domingos told me how most of his friends and he were "drafted" into the armies (MPLA or UNITA, didn't matter). Groups of soldiers would come into the villages and basically kidnap any boy old enough to serve in the army. Domingos told me the story of when they came to his village. He was still too young, but his older brother was 14, the perfect age. His mother told his brother to hide under the bed until the soldiers left. The soldiers came to his house and started to look around. They were almost safe until a cat ran out from under the bed where his brother was hiding. The soldiers then took his brother. Luckily, his brother survived the war and came home six years later- the first time they had seen or heard from him in that time.

Rain, rain, go away

The rainy season has begun early. In general the roads in Lobito are horrible, but they cease to be roads when it rains. They turn into small lagoons, as you can see here. This is the road in front of our office, taken one day after a huge rainfall. As you can see, huge puddle has taken up residence in road. This was on a dry, sunny day, after a lot of the puddle had evaporated. Right now, the lagoon is much bigger and turning an amazing shade of emerald green. If it weren't so unsanitary, it would be beautiful! And yes, the cholera outbreak in Angola, started last year, continues strong.

How things work around here: Passport/Visa edition

Before arrival in Angola, I was warned how difficult it was to deal with work visas. This is why I entered the country with a tourist visa, armed and ready with all the necessary paperwork, doctor’s notes, notarized transcripts and resumes, and so on, for a work visa. I was instructed by our Luanda Logistics Guy that I should bring this paperwork with me and apply for the work visa from Angola, which is why I got very nervous when the Angolan consulate in Houston wanted me to leave all this paperwork there. I had no trouble getting the tourist visa, but the woman at the consulate kept trying to tell me that they had to send the paperwork from there, directly contradicting what the logistics guy was telling me. It took me a while to convince her to give me back the paperwork, but she did, and gave me one of those "If you so say so" looks.

Oh, if only I had known! I entered the country on the tourist visa with no problem. I immediately turned in all the paperwork to Luanda Logistics Guy and was told that I would get the work visa in a few weeks. Skip ahead to the end of October. Luanda Logistics Guy comes back with an answer- NO WORK VISA FOR YOU! Oh, and “Also, you should have submitted all of this work visa paperwork from the United States.” ARGH! This was frustrating, but I didn’t think it would be a problem because, in theory, all I had to do was renew my tourist visa every three months.

My three months (90 days) came in the middle of November. I happened to be going to Luanda, and on a Monday I handed my passport over to the same logistics guy. DEFA, the immigration department, keeps your visa and gives you a receipt that you are supposed to use in lieu of a passport. In other countries this wouldn’t be such a big deal except that, thanks to Angola's Soviet-style bureaucracy, all air travelers are required to present documentation when they travel domestically. This means that I go through customs every time I fly. Now, back in November when I was going back to Lobito Luanda Logistics Guy says, “Oh, I just went to DEFA and they only accept passports Monday through Wednesday, so I’ll take it next week and today you’ll have to travel with this letter I wrote explaining everything.” I said, “I gave you the passport on Monday, why did you just take it today?” Blank… stare…. “Leslie, I’m very busy.” Of course, it's his job to know when to take visas to DEFA and then to take them there, but hey- he had things to do! I was seething, but let it go.

The driver who took me to the airport had my passport so I was able to get to Lobito, but getting through customs once in Lobito was another issue. The DEFA guy took one look at the letter that Luanda Logistics guy wrote and more or less laughed and said, “You can’t give us this. We need the passport or the receipt.” Manuel João, the awesome driver who was picking me up at the airport, was a little late, so I was trying to convince the DEFA guy that I was an upright foreigner, working for and NGO and, gosh, I just didn’t know ANYTHING about a receipt- aren’t I a silly woman, tee hee? Finally Maneul João showed up. The DEFA guy tried suddenly said, “You’ll have to go back to Luanda, then. Unless…” and sort of stretched his arms. I thought, “Oh, so this is how they ask for bribes!” But MJ held his ground and said, “No, she’s not going to Luanda, she’s staying here because it’s 5 pm and there are no more flights out today.” Then they suddenly found a problem with the entry-date stamp on the copy of the passport. It wasn't visible, so he said, "We don't know when you arrived in country." So I said, "August 26, 2006," which he wasn't expecting. At that point he finally realized he wasn't getting a bribe and that it was almost 6 pm and time to go home, so he left me off with a very stern warning.

The above story isa bit of a sidetrack, but shows how Luanda Logistics Guy operates. Or, in this case, doesn’t operate. He just does not do his job. I would say he is mildly competent in other areas, but in this area he is notoriously incapable of doing his job. He sent one employee off to South Africa, telling him he didn’t need a visa. 24 hours later the employee was sent back to Angola because he didn’t have a visa to enter the country. Another employee and his wife had to delay their return to the US by over a week because Luanda Logistcs Guy forgot that you have to have an exit visa. You get the idea.

Now- I turned my passport into him on Nov 18. I got my receipt from Luanda a week later, so I was in the clear. And then I did something dumb. Because everyone is required to carry identification at all times, when going out for drinks or to the disco I would put the receipt and copy of my passport in my pockets. In all the weeks I carried that receipt around, I never forgot to take it out of my pocket. Until one fateful night when I forgot, and the maid came the next day and washed my jeans! The receipt disappeared, along with any ability to travel beyond Lobito via airplane. I then thought, “Hmm, DEFA has had my passport for about two months now,” which is quite long. I asked our legal affairs lady here in Lobito and she said, ‘What?! That process should only take two or three days.” Uh-oh. So she started to track down my passport, and Luanda Logistics Guy says the last time he went it wasn’t ready. When pressed as to when this was, he said it was over 3 weeks ago, when he went to check on another ex-pat employee’s passport- way longer than it should have been.

We finally got word of my passport this last Monday. He said, “I have good news and bad news. The good news is that I have your passport. The bad news is that the extended visa expired on December 21^st.” Okay, let’s get this straight. They held on to the passport for over two months, and when they finally issued the extension, they did so for a date that occurred over a month ago? I don’t think so. Basically, he forgot that my visa was in DEFA and let it sit there. In spite of the fact that this guy got caught not doing his job and completely lying about it, he refused to assume any responsibility for it.

It gets better! Apparently in-country extensions are a one-shot deal, and you have to leave the country before they expire. If you leave the country and come back, you get another 3 month visa- but only if you leave the country. So I will have to leave the country very soon- and pay a huge fine when I do- in order to be here legally.

And they are requesting that I resubmit all the work visa paperwork again (!!!), so that I finally get a work visa and avoid all this hassle. But there has been a change in policy, and now all foreign work visas- except for the oil company employees- must be submitted from their country of origin. This means that the lady at the Angolan consulate in Houston was right all along! Since all of this paperwork must be submitted in the US, I will have to leave the country every three months until I go on home leave! AND, the paperowork (notarized everything, doctor's letters, etc) has to be up-to-date, so all the paperwork I have from August 2006 won’t count. So when I DO finally get home, I’ll likely have to spend a few days doing this junk all over again. So terribly frustrating, and so terribly avoidable.

Oh, the confusão!

At the end of a very long night, with no strength left for Kizomba

Around 8:30 am, January 1, 2007. Marisa, Mark, me and some other lady still up for more...
This is Angola!

Kids + sunset = fun times

Fotos

I've posted some pictures from the holidays at the "My Pictures" link to the right. This picture here isn't one of them, but I liked this kid. he was just hanging around the holiday party I went to in Cubal. He is sporting an example of the type of things you find in the used-clothes stalls in the local markets. Was it cold that day? Not particularly. Does he look sharp in his hood and blazer? Of course!

IAH to LAD?

Photo of the Benguela airport, where I usually fly in/out of...

The other night I ran into Chris, the oil worker from New Orleans who had us over to his house for Thanksgiving dinner. He had just come back from his holiday home leave and reported that he flew back on the “oilman express,” the oil-company charted flight that leaves from Houston and goes directly to Luanda. This is the only flight that leaves the US and goes directly to Luanda (which, by the way, he says is 90% business class). Otherwise you have to travel like I did- to Europe and then Luanda. My trip took around 36 hours, not including drive time in Luanda (considerable), the wait in the airport for the flight to Lobito (very considerable), and then the actual flight to Lobito (incredibly, not long at all at only 45 minutes!).

Anyway, I expressed my envy to Chris, and he said, “Well, you know, TAAG is going to start a new flight from Houston to Luanda. I read it in the in-flight magazine!” I didn’t want to believe it, but folks, the dream is coming true! Even us non-petroleum Houstonians will be able to fly out of Intercontinental and into 4 de Fevereiro! I did some checking on-line, and of 5 big Boeings that the government of Angola purchased last November, one will be used for a Houston – Luanda route!

(The purchase of these airplanes was BIG news, something Angolans were very proud of. It was timed around Independence Day, November 11, and there was quite a big to-do surrounding the purchase. As you can see from the Angolan ambassador to the US’ remarks, all important Angolans were in Seattle for the ceremony. They showed it over and over on TPA, of course, and they kept showing the Boeing official say that this was the biggest one-time purchase an African nation had ever made. Badge of corruption for the government,perhaps?)

Another thing I came across while Googling was this tidbit about 4 de Fevereiro, Luanda’s international airport:

On May 25, 2003, another 727, US Number plate N844AA, was stolen off the tarmac of the airport. The aircraft was reported to be working for Air Angola at the time. The aircraft had reportedly been in Seychelles and had asked permission to land but had disappeared after that. There is considerable mystery surrounding the plane, as it had been parked on the tarmac for over a year accumulating airport fees exceeding $4,000,000.

Only in Angola will a 727 be “stolen” from the airport! Oh, the confusão!

This is where I live.

I live towards the second half of Restinga (the name of this little peninsula). A friend took this picture from the lighthouse on the other side of the bay. I haven't made it out there yet. The bay is allegedly the deepest in Africa.

This is the ponta, or "point" at the end of Restinga. There are a few restaurants and bars. Also a popular place for families to picnic and for bandidos to cause trouble.
This is my apartment building, one of the tallest buildings on Restiga at 6 stories tall. I live on the 4th story.

More pictures of my actual apartment later!

Iron Everything

That is the advice I got from my ex-pat colleagues when I first arrived. I thought it seemed a bit excessive until Sergey came into my office the other day with this little jar. Inside the jar were three small worm-like creatures. He shouted, “These came from my son!”

They were putsi flies. The putsi fly likes to lay eggs on wet clothing. They somehow get into your skin, where the eggs start to turn into larva, and eventually into a fly that burrows its way out of your skin. They look like pimples. Sergey saw them on his 1 yr old son and thought, “He’s awfully young to have acne,” and started to pop them. Out came the worms!

Anne, my French coworker and friend, is a nurse. She says all you have to do to get rid of them is to rub Vaseline on your skin, which suffocates them.

So this is why I iron everything, down to my underwear and socks.

The son is fine- just turned a bug-free 1 yr old on Saturday. As you can see from the picture, he's just fine!

Usnavy

Here is a great article about unusual names in Venezuela. Honduras gets a special mention as well. When I was there as a Peace Corps volunteer, the national legislature passed a law outlawing "obscene" names. The "Llanta de Milagro" (Miracle Tire) was one that was often cited as being obscene. Another one that did not appear in this article but cited (in an urgent whisper), was Hijo de Verga Lara. For you non-Spanish speakers, "Hijo de" means "son of" and "verga" is a common slang word for the male anatomy. As if that weren't enough, "Lara" sounds much like the Spanish word for "long." I kid you not. When I read about the obscene name law in the paper, they had a photocopy of poor Hijo's birth certificate. He was born in 1903, so hopefully he lived out the centruy without problems.

Not too many unusual names in Angola. My name is very difficult for Portuguese speakers to say, so I usually get called "Leizy" which sounds like "Lazy" in English. Insert your own quip here.

UPDATE: Apparently the NYT article has been taken down already. Sorry

"This is not Ebola or Marburg."

But worrisome nonetheless. I hope my good health continues here!

Busta Rymes in Angola

Apparently Busta Rymes rang in the new year in Luanda. With him were Akon 2 and Heavy Seven, who prove that I am no longer in tune with American pop culture because i have no idea who they are. Here is an on-line article about it, if you care to try out your Portuguese. A few weeks ago Missy Elliot was here, along with other hip-hop people.

UPDATE: I wonder if they knew about this when they asked him to come!

Personally, I prefer KUDURU, Angola's local form of rap (kuduru means hard a**). It's hard to describe, but it's a combination of late 80s-sounding rap and Brazilian funk music. It comes from the musseques (the slums) and is most heard in Luanda. It's hard and fast, and not anything I would relax to at home, but seeing it in action is quite impressive. The dance to kuduru is a type of breakdancing and series of spastic movements. The crazier the better. Here's a link to a video from one of the most popular kuduru groups of the moment, Os Lamba. Os Lamba are from a musseque and have a reputation as being the real thing, very tough. I was with a friend and her 6 year old son, who was bothering her for her cell phone. When he finally realized she wasn't going to give in and hand over the cell phone, he very angrily said, "Oh Mama! I'm going to send Os Lambas after you!" The video was filmed in a museeque in Luanda. It's one of the few Angolan videos that gets played on the South African music channel I get. It's a funny video and you get a good idea of what the dance is like. You can also see the bleached hair look that is very popular at the moment.

Feliz 2007!

I am back in the office for the first time since the Friday before Christmas. I was a little bitter about being forced to take vacation days (in essence all the ones I've saved up until now!) but I have actually quite enjoyed my time off in Lobito.

Christmas was nice. Several colleagues/friends and I went to Mark and Domingas’ house for dinner. The keg of Cuca (Angolan beer, brewed down the road in Catumbela) left over from the office party provided us with hours of drinking, and the gingerbread cake with cream cheese frosting and the Bogus cookies I made were a big hit. It was about 80 degrees F and I spent most of the day at the beach, so it didn’t quite feel like Christmas, but it was still nice. I was with friends, so that’s all I really needed.

New Year’s was quite the party. In general, Angolans love to party. The parties here start around midnight and last until 7 am the next morning. New Year’s was even more extreme. Those who can afford it buy tickets to two of the big organized parties in town: Ferrovia (the yachting “club” and party space) and Mateus Columbo (rich Angolan who throws a big party at his big house). The tickets aren’t cheap. As a woman I only had to spend US$90 for the party at Ferrovia, which lasts two nights; men had to pay US$100. I went with colleague friends and their various spouses. Arriving shortly after midnight, there still weren’t too many people there. By 3 am the place was absolutely packed. Apart from the good music and dancing, I had a great time because I realized that I am recognizing more and more people where I go, meaning that I am making friends. Amazing!

Slowly but surely, it got lighter and suddenly it was 6:30 am. The party was still raging, but we decided to go home. We had parked the cars at Juan’s house and walked (the bad traffic was even worse on New Year’s). Juan lives in front of the beach, and as we got there, we just sort of wandered to the beach, stripped down to our underwear and went for a swim. Suddenly, 6 of Juan’s neighbors were there with us. Another party! Finally around 9 a.m. I made it home and crashed for a few hours.

I recuperated on the beach near my house, which is normally vacant but was absolutely packed that day. I took another nap and headed out with friends Domingas and Maria Teresa for another night at the Ferrovia. The second night was much calmer, with fewer people who were drinking mostly water instead of whisky and beer like the night before. We ended up staying until only 5 am that night.

In all, I had a nice holiday season. It’s always sad to be away from family and good friends at this time of the year, but I spent it with friends here and had a great time. I really like Angola these days. Feeling good about my work and being here are all the Christmas presents I need right now.

Boas Festas

There’s a holiday tradition in Benguela- perhaps everywhere in Angola, but I can only speak to Benguela- called boas festas. (Happy Holidays) I had been warned about this tradition by other ex-pats, but I didn’t think it could be true.

Basically, someone comes up to you and says, “Boas festas!” Then you are supposed to give them money. Really! When Mark told me about this, he said that anyone would do this, regardless of how well (or if) they knew you or economic condition.

Indeed, yesterday people started saying “Boas festas!” to me and holding out their hand. I just play dumb. Kids come running up to me in the street, saying, "Amgia! Amiga! Boas festas, amiga!" And these are NOT the poor kids who ask me for money usually. In every store there is the equivalent of a Boas Festas tip jar. Readers of the previous post will remember Deborah, the sullen receptionist at the cable TV office. Even though it took me almost a week to get service, every time I went in there she would hold out the box and say, “Boas festas! You didn’t put in the boas festas!”

Boas festas, indeed!

Our office is closing for two weeks so I’ll be away from the computer for a while. Keep sending me emails, though! Remember me in Angola!

Happy holidays to all. I miss you!

Cost of Living in Luanda

A "fellow Fellow" sent me a link to an article in The Economist about the high cost of living for expatriates in Africa. It focuses on Luanda but Lobito is only slightly less expensive than Luanda. The article also neglects to mention that it's expensive for ANGOLANS, too!

Case in point: our Luanda office's lease was set to expire at the end of December. The owner wanted to raise the rent from US$3,500/month to US$12,500/month. With no improvements to the building. Our office is across the street from the main Chevron office. Coincidence? As an NGO we certainly can't afford the new rent, so we are moving to an office whose rent will be US$6500/month.

My friend/coworker Mark also pointed out that here it's no big deal to carry US$100 bills in your pocket. He recalled being dumbfounded by the strange looks he got on his last home leave when he would pay for things with $100 bills. It's quite common here.

I spend at least US$50 every time I go to the supermarket. Yes, I do buy Western food, but you can't tell me that US$8 is reasonable for a box of cereal! Even the local markets (like the Cubal one, above in the picture of the chicken section of the market) are expensive. A bunch of bananas costs US$2.50!

How things work around here: Satellite TV edition

I decided to get satellite cable. A good decision- I get CNN, Discovery Channel, and can watch reruns of Beverly Hills 90210! Actually getting the service was an infuriating experience and indicative of the way that things work here in Angola.

Monday: Ben Carlos, and Angolan colleague, took me to the cable sub-office to sign up for the service. I was US$40 short for the package of the satellite and service payment, so I just paid for the satellite installation. I gave directions to the technicians and waited and waited for them. I waited for about 3 hours. When they got there and I asked why they took so long (they supposedly left the office at the same time I did) they said, “teve atraso,” or “there was a delay.” They set it up, or at least 75% of it. They said they would have to return for something the next day, but I couldn’t understand what exactly.

Tuesday: I called the sub-office to set up a time to finish the job and the technicians were out sick. Amazingly, all 5 of them were ill!

Wednesday: I finally got my dollars from the bank (getting money from the bank is a whole other ordeal), so I paid for the service to start. The technicians went over to my apartment to finish the job. Satellite service guaranteed to start that evening. The weekly Wednesday volleyball game was cancelled, so I went home very excited to start watching TV in English. Except, there was nothing!

Thursday: In the morning I call the sub-office to see what the problem is. They never recorded the number on my cable box so they couldn’t start service. They guaranteed to start service that evening. I was traveling to Cubal for the night, for the closure of the office and holiday party, and I expected to have quality TV time when I got home on Friday.

Friday: This is where things get ugly. I come home EXHAUSTED from Cubal. Apart from only getting 5 hours of sleep, thanks to all the kizomba dancing at the party, the ride from Cubal to Lobito is on one of the worst roads I have ever been on. It takes around 4 ½ hours- we left at 9 am and got to Lobito at 1:30 pm. I was so excited to have lunch in front of the television, but again, no signal! When I called the office phone, a cell phone belonging to the receptionist, Deborah, it was desligado, or turned off. There had also not been any water in town for 4 days, and the maid used all the water for cleaning without replacing it, so I couldn’t even take a bucket bath after a long trip. I was a just little cranky. On the way back to work, Juan took me to the cable office since he had to make his payment and both Eduardo (the manager) and Deborah (the sullen receptionist) assured me that I would have service that afternoon. Eduardo said he would call the main cable office and have everything resolved. Deborah also said to call if I had any problems. I told her that I had called only a few hours earlier, and the phone was turned off. She said, “Oh yes, the battery is dead.” I said, “So how can I call?” Blank… look… So then Eduardo gave me his cell phone number, assuring me that he was heading over to the main office right away to straighten things out.

After a quick cerveja Cristal (Portuguese beer) at the end of the workday with my officemate Anne, I headed home, completely exhausted and starving, looking forward once again to vegging out in front of English-language TV. I turned it on and NOTHING. I called Eduardo and the following exchange took place:
E: Oh, you’re going to have to wait until Monday because the office is closed until then.
L: What did the people at JEMBAS (the main office) say?
Dead silence.
L: Eduardo, did you go to the main office?
E: No, the office closes at 3 pm. (Juan and I got to the sub-office around 2:30.)
L: Eduardo, why did you tell me you were going to take care of it if the office was already closed?
Dead silence.
L: This is bad. I’m paying for a service that I’m not receiving.
E: No, no! Don’t worry- your service is paid for!
L: Yes, that’s the problem. I paid and I’m not receiving anything.
E: Yeah, don’t worry, it’s all paid for. Look, everything is closed until Monday, you’ll have to wait.
L: But I’m paying for the service!
E: Calma, calma. (Calm down, calm down.)

At this point, I break into tears and hang up. As my parents, brother and sister will tell you, it doesn’t take much to make me cry, but this was an all-out bawl-fest. I was just so tired from the trip and had really been looking forward to watching English-language TV, as pathetic as that sounds. Worse still, I could see the title of the programs that I could have been watching: The Daily Show! Grey’s Anatomy! Beverly Hills 90210! Lord of the Rings II! The whole interaction is indicative of just how difficult it is to get things done in Angola, and the utter lack of customer service.

Saturday: Juan picked me up to take me grocery shopping. He asked how my night was and when I told him, he said, “No way. We’re going there right now.” We went to the sub-office and saw Eduardo and Deborah. Now, Angola is a both a macho and hierachical-sensitive country. A woman on her own, as assertive as she may be, can’t get the same things done that a man can- especially a chefe (boss) like Juan. As soon as they saw Juan, they said, “Oh, Senhor Juan! Dona Leslie! We’ll do everything we can to get this taken care of!” There was someone else there, another customer, who said, “Why don’t you call the main JEMBAS office and have them take care of it?” To which Eduardo said, “Oh. JEMBAS is open on Saturdays? I didn’t know.” Juan, Eduardo and I then spend the next two hours running between my apartment and the JEMBAS office getting things taken care of.

After shopping, I come home to find a crystal-clear cable reception! With no sound! I call Eduardo, who tells me to call the Luanda help line. They tell me the problem is with the installation, not the signal. I call Eduardo again, and he promises to send over the technicians. “I’ll personally accompany them, right now!” he proudly tells me. Five hours later with no technicians around, I call Eduardo to find out where they were.
E: Oh, we came by and there was no one home. I was with them.
L: Really? I haven’t left the house all day. I’ve been waiting for you.
E: Yes, the technicians went and said no one was home. [Notice how he suddenly wasn’t there with them.] They can only come tomorrow morning.
L: Okay, what time?
E: Tomorrow.
L: What time?
E: Sometime tomorrow.
In the meantime, I ask my neighbor Sara who also has satellite TV if she knows what the problem is. She sends her 7 year old son to fix it. He is very cute but not good at fixing the satellite. The 8 people who live in her apartment and hang out in front of my apartment assure me that no one came looking for me.

Sunday: Around 1 pm and several phone calls to Eduardo, two technicians show up at the apartment. They are completely dumbfounded by the lack of sound and keep pressing the mute button over and over again. They leave to get another technician. This takes only one and a half hours. He takes one look at the TV, fiddles around with some of the menus, and I immediately have sound.

That’s all it took!

People gave Madonna a lot of heat for adopting a baby from Malawi, but in the middle of all that mess she said something that rang true for me. She said, more or less, that anyone who set foot in Malawi and saw those children would want to adopt them. The same holds true for Angola. Kids here are just great. Sure, there are a few bad apples, but that’s the way they are every where.

Kids here are just fun. They love to jump around and do flips and can make a toy out of anything- mostly because they have no toys. Adults here spend a lot of time with children, but not in the way that we do in the States. There’s not a lot of reading or imagination work going on, so kids here really like any sort of fun attention from adults. The times I've played with kids, there's an initial skepticism- "what is this branca doing?" But then they get into and ask when I am coming back to play with them.

Last Sunday we had a small party at Juan’s house. He lives in front of the beach and near a squatter’s building, so a couple of kids wandered over to see the what the white people were doing. Our friend Ze Maria had opened his car to blast kizomba, the most popular music in Angola, and they kids went crazy. I had been taking pictures of the kids, and then I told them to dance and took a little video of them. Very cute. If you look at the video, the stuff the kids are using as sunglasses is a roll of film negatives.

This is the first time I'm trying a video, so let me know if this doesn't work!

I love this picture!

My coworker Suzie took this picture while visiting her project's beneficiary communities. The woman is weaving the basket from the inside.

Electricity

Electricity in Angola is a tenuous thing. It’s not a question of whether or not the lights will go out in a given day, but how many times it will go out. Any Angola household than can afford it will buy a generator to provide electricity when the lights are out. (With gas at only US$ 0.40 a gallon, the big purchase is the machine itself.) I share a generator with my coworker/neighbor, Tito. He lives two houses away, so there is a very long cord stretched across his roof and my apartment- one of the wires in the above picture is the magical generator cord. Somehow it holds up in the rain.

You don’t notice how much you use a generator until it is broken. For about 6 days last week I was without the generator. It was apparently broken and, as things tend to happen in Angola, the importance of getting us a new generator slipped as the days went on. The bad thing about not having a generator is that you can hear everyone else’s generator. Imagine the sound that a diesel engine built for an 18-wheeler. Now imagine that 20 feet from my bedroom window. Just a little noisy. Most people, Tito and I included, turn off their generators after a certain hour (midnight, in our case) to save gas. Unfortunately for me, I live cattycorner from an oil industry house, which not only has the most powerful generator around to handle all the air conditioners, but they leave it on all night so the poor oil employees don’t have to suffer the natural sea breeze coming off the bay and the ocean. It’s on most nights, so I’ve gotten used to it, but on the rare night that the city’s electrical grid is up and running, it’s so still that I can hear birds and even the ocean.

Some of you might know that my father’s side of the family is quite large. Grandma Aline, bless her heart, had 10 children; my dad is 2 of 10. In US, this greatly impresses people since few people have that many children any more. In Honduras, this impresses people, although not as much since there are families that large. In Angola, I tell people my grandmother had 10 children and I get an unimpressed, “Oh.”

Yesterday I was talking with Adi, our receptionist here in Luanda. She was telling me what her family does for the holidays, and started rattling off how many brothers and sisters would be coming to Luanda for Christmas. After about 8 names, I asked how many brothers and sisters she had. “Alive?” she asked. “Twelve. But my mother gave birth to TWENTY THREE (23) children.” Wow. That explains why, according to a 2001 UNICEF study, 67% of Angola’s population is under 20 and 97% of the population is under 50. The same study also mentioned that Angola’s percentage of children that reach the age of 5 is one of the three lowest in the world, keeping stellar company with Niger and Afghanistan. So, sadly, it’s not uncommon to lose ten of your children to illness or, in Angola’s case, a brutal 27 year-long civil war. When I asked Juliana, the woman who cleans my house, how many children she had, she said she had two daughters who were aged 7 and 15. She then mentioned that she first gave birth in 1985, so I was a little confused. She then said, “Well, I’ve had 8 children total, but six have died.”

Maybe this is part of the explanation for the grief expressed by the family of the killer I talked about in the previous post. To have a son make it through to his twenties and then die from unnatural causes- when so many young children die from “natural” although preventable causes- must be devastating.

Love in Luanda

I'm in Luanda right now. As many of you may already know, Luanda is not my favorite place- lots of traffic, lots of people, lots of confusão (confusion) as Angolans would put it. We were supposed to leave Lobito yesterday at 3, which meant that we left for the airport at 12:30. Around 3:30, we got curious because no airplane had arrived. (The Benguela airport is a one-airplane type of airport. You know if your plane is there or not.) Our driver Joel went to ask at the AIR26 desk and the lady nonchalantly said, "Oh, the flight has been canceled." Why, thank you for telling us! Upon further investigation, Joel discovered that we would be leaving the next morning at 7 am, meaning that I got to wake up at 5 am this morning. So I'm a little crankier than usual.

Air 26 is a ew airline, touted by many in Angola because the flight attendants are nice. Actually, this does set them apart. The airplanes are used but spruced up a bit. Only a bit. There were still three rows of seats missing and the air conditioner dripped cold water on me all during the flight. But hey- they had air conditioning! Again, different from other Angolan airlines.

The flight left not at 7 as planned but at 9:30. I'd say we hit Luanda at rush hour, but every hour in Luanda is rush hour. Our offices are only 15 miles or so from the airport, yet it takes us 2 hours to get there from the national airport. Today the delay was the result of a very large funeral procession. About 50 cars were in a caravan, complete with casket, traveling at a speed of 20 m.p.h. Each car's dashboard displayed the picture of a young man. "How sad," I thought. "Cancer? AIDS? Malaria?" Gilberto, the driver then said, "That guy killed his ex-girlfriend and her current boyfriend in a fit of jealous passion." (Whoops! Still sad, though not for the reasons I originally thought it was sad.) The three young people lived in Gilberto's neighborhood. He said that the jealous ex-boyfriend had to be buried on a different day because the ex-girlfriend's family threatened to kill everyone from the killer's funeral if they saw them there the same day.

I'm not sure I understand why people were displaying the killer's face everywhere. People were even wearing t-shirts with his picture on it. It just seemed like a slap in the faces of the families of the people he killed. I asked Gilberto about this, and he just sort of shook his head. He didn't understand it either.

Ladies on Deck!

I live on a peninsula. One block to my left is the beach; one block to the right is Africa’s deepest port, the Port of Lobito. It’s a nice little bay- very narrow (I could swim across in half an hour) and very deep. The Luanda port is significantly reducing its activities in order for renovation and modernization, so Lobito will soon see a lot more water traffic. Those of us who aren’t in the oil industry look at those big ships passing at all hours and think, “What the heck is on those things?” Chris, the oil rig guy who had us to his house for Thanksgiving, invited Suzie, Angela and me to take a tour of the port yard and even finagled a tour of an “unusual-sized cargo” ship!

The yard is huge. All of the oil companies have little trailers there that function as offices. We stopped off at Chris’ company’s trailer to gear up with hard hats and protective eyewear then headed to the Chevron trailer for work boots. Surprisingly, we didn’t have to sign our lives away on a liability agreement. An oversight, perhaps?

Scattered all over the yard are HUGE oil rigs, platforms, pipelines in the process of being constructed, waiting to be towed out to sea. I can see these things from my front balcony; they look big from there, but up close they are massive. After seeing the scale of this equipment, I must say that I am quite impressed with the engineering that goes into those productions. For example, we saw a big tower that will be lowered onto the ocean floor, at which point a vacuum will come on and burrow itself into the ground for drilling. Amazing.

After a short tour, Chris took us to the German unusual-sized cargo ship. The ship is specially designed for large and heavy cargo that does not fit on traditional container cargo ships. Chris had spoken with the German manager to get the tour, but the German had apparently forgotten to tell anyone else, so there was some confusion when we got on board. The crew was partly German but mostly Filipino. Either way, I think they were happy to have three foreign women on board! They go out for 3 months at a time, and then have a month off. The ship was headed to Singapore, a trip which takes about 17 days. They were hauling a helipad.

The ship is HUGE. The captain said it was built in 1989 and is not state-of-the-art, but to our uneducated eyes it was quite modern-looking. They certainly had better communication abilities (phone, internet) than whatever we have in Lobito. The ship was also very clean- spotless, even!

They took us all around the ship, even down into the cargo hold, which Chris thought was a bit of a liability since we had to climb a ladder down three stories. But it was fun! I will post pictures at the “My Pictures” link to the right when the connection here is a little more stable (it's not letting me right now).

Wild Wild Lobito

About three nights ago there was a car crash in front of the building where two collegaues live. (This building was recently sold for US$1.2 million, but that's another story.) It's front front of a very small shopping center- the Policentro- situated on a median in the middle of a road. The center has a small market, pharmacy, snack hut and playground. Like every other buidling on Restinga, the peninsula where I live, there are guards guarding the premises.

Around 10:30 pm, there was a car crash. My two coworkers watched the following scene from their respective apartments which have balconies facing the shopping center. The driver had crashed into a parked car. Both the driver's car and the parked car were relatively undamaged, although there was enough damage to warrant repairs. The driver got out of his car to see the damage. Deciding that he didn't want to pay for the damage, he got back into his car and started to drive away. Now there are a few people in the street, watching all this. One of the guards from the Policentro takes out his AK-47 and just starts shooting at the car- which is on a busy road now filled with several people. The car got away and luckily no one was hurt.

I am glad that we request that the guards that watch our houses and office carry nightsticks, not guns.

I mean, if you insist that your guards have a gun, okay:

1. Train them how and when to use them! Shooting an AK-47 into a crowded street? It's a miracle that no one got hurt or killed by a stray bullet. The cars involved had nothing to do with the shopping center- did the guard really need to shoot after the driver?
   
2. How about a more appropriate gun, like a pistol?