Peace in Angola

April 4th was the fifth anniversary of the advent of peace in Angola. I was on my way out of the country, so I missed a lot of the activities. My mother sent me this BBC article on the anniversary. I think it presents a just-average overall picture of the reality in Angola: the abrupt change from fear of stepping into the street to being able to move about freely, oil riches that the masses don't see, the presence of foreigners (as described by a local rapper)- but strangely doesn't mention corruption or the Chinese. (An article about Angola without mentioning the Chinese? What?)

They do mention Angola's first shopping mall, Belas Shopping. Goodness gracious, this mall is being promoted like it's a sign that Angola is truly evolving. Never mind that not even a tenth of the general population can afford to pay the transportation costs to be able to shop there. To me it just seems like a slap in the face of most Angolans who struggle to make ends meet. I realize that bringing commercial enterprises to Angola is important, but I think it is more important to promote micro, small and medium enterprises owned by Angolans and reform the Angolan laws to make them more business-friendly.

Most Angolans' shopping mall

Cabo Verde

One of the many perks of my job is that working in Angola is considered a hardship, and as such I get a week of vacation (R&R) every 6 months or so. After a hectic end of March, I was very please to take a short break to Cabo Verde (Cape Verde), meeting Angela, my good friend from SIPA who works in Liberia and also gets R&R.

Before I describe my trip, let me just say it was all worth it to hang out with a good friend. It can get very lonely here in Lobito, and although I feel like I am making friends here, I have yet to really connect with someone on that “good friend” level. So seeing Angela was a breath of fresh air, reminding me what it’s like to just sit with someone and not have to say anything, or talk about the most pressing issue in my personal life and have someone listen.

Also, it was handy to have a friend along to marvel at the WEIRDNESS that is Cabo Verde! Perhaps I should qualify that description… I had high hopes for Cabo Verde. The majority of music in Angola is caboverdeana and wonderful. For a place with no public university, Cabo Verde has managed to produce one of the finest literary traditions in the Portuguese-speaking world. I had no guidebook to rely on before arrival, so I was limited to the internet in terms of research. Little did I know that Sal, the island we planned our trip on, is the touristiest of them all!

The beached on Sal were quite nice, but unfortunately most of the island is a desert, covered with new hotel and apartment construction. I awoke every morning to the sound of construction workers- this island is definitely booming, but I can’t say if it’s a good thing or not. My main complaint about Santa Maria is that it was devoid of any local flavor- the buildings popping up are generic and designed for foreigners.

Our hotel was less than spectacular and did not offer the ocean views advertised. The owner was a French woman who could not be bothered to help us, not even to change a light bulb that sat burnt out the entire time we were there. We happened to pick the busiest week to travel there- Easter week- and daily tours and excursions were packed. When I asked of other activities- nice walks, buses to the other islands, she just shrugged and said, “You did poor planning. You picked the busiest week to come.” And left it at that. Well.

After Easter Sunday things died down and Angela and I were able to get on a tour of the island. The tour ageny told us to be outside waiting at 8:45 and our English-speaking guide would pick us up. We were outside waiting and at 9 am this truck with "EXCURSION- Tour of the Island" pulls up and says, "Okay, ready for the tour?" We say sure, and since the agency told us the guide would speak English, and he had begun in English. We quickly discovered, however, that English is, in fact, not one of the languages that he speaks. Just to double check, I said IN PORTUGUESE, "You're from Morabitur Agency, right?" "Oh yes, yes I am." Me: "And it's just us two?" Guy: "Oh yes, just you two." Okay, fine. We get going, and quickly discover that this guy is quite possibly the WORST tour agency on the planet. His creepiness knew no boundaries, telling us through the huge gap in his front teeth, "It's nice babies!" meaning he found us attractive. Ugh. He tried to get us to meet him for drinks later that night. He took us to this random apartment complex- which was NOT nice- as part of the tour. He would stop every so often and say, “Oh, I just need to go see this friend,” and disappear for 20 mintues. Extremely unprofessional, and Angela and I began to count down the time he had left with this clown.

We suffered through on to lunch, which was supposed to be included in the price of the tour. Suddenly, he was said, "Oh no, you pay for it then take the receipt to the tour agency." which made absolutely no sense to me, and considering the place he wanted us to eat was a dump, we said no, just take us back. We finally got back, got out of the car and were like, "okay, bye" and he says, "Uh, you need to pay me." I showed him the receipt and said that we had already paid, and he says, "I have nothing to do with the tour agency. I'm a private operator." I start freaking out, yelling at him in the middle of the street, and of course he's denying that I ever said anything about a tour agency. So Angela and I walk to the tour agency, explain everything, and the dude comes in yelling saying that we never said we were with another tour agency and that we had agreed to the price (80 Euros!!!) before getting in the car! What a mess. Luckily the tour agency took care of it all, and we just left. We were pretty much dumbfounded- how did this yahoo con two people who have traveled all over the world!! So our impressions of CV were a bit soured after that.

It’s a shame, really, because apparently the other islands of Cape Verde are wonderful and would have given us everything that we were expecting to receive. There are pictures here.

I wonder why they picked Angola...

Six Eritrean footballers have requested political asylum in Angola after their 2008 African Cup of Nations qualifier in Luanda on Sunday.

Eritrea is no laughing matter these days. (Our Eritrean country program was kicked out of there a long time ago for being uppity and questioning human rights and development issues.) It must be really bad for them to seek assylum in Angola, of all places. Perhaps it was the timing. Or perhaps they were astounded by Angolan's futebol skills, after the Angolans beat them 6 to 1. Go Palancas Negras!

Bocoio

Two weeks ago I went with Angola friends to Bocoio, a small town about an hour and a half outside of Lobito. Whereas Lobito is on the coast and humid, Bocoio is in the mountains and nice and cool. It was a nice change from a hectic and at times dusty city. A friend just bought a large piece of property with a small house on it.

We didn’t do much except eat, drink, and relax. The highlights were: sitting in the rapids of the river on the property, getting an improvised hydromassage; walking up the big hill across the road from the property and seeing the valley below; seeing a homemade bicycle; hearing about the dragon.

Homemade bicycle and the boy who made it

Yes! There is a dragon in Bocoio, and it lives in a tree on the mountain that looks like a pregnant lady giving birth. No one is allowed to climb that mountain. Only one person ever has- the soba, or village leader- and survived! The dragon, you see, is very protective of the pregnant lady. At night it breathes fires and swoops down from the mountain to eat cows and cover itself in their excrement.

When we asked the boy with the homemade “bicycle” about the dragon, he confirmed the story. Our plans to hike the mountain on our next visit were quickly scrapped. The dragon, however, doesn't mind if you watch him breathe fire, so next time we will return to the road at 10pm to watch himprotect the woman.

Pregnant Mountain

Awesome Structures in Angola Series: Part 2

I took this picture from the balcony of my new apartment. These types of houses- once grand, Portuguese structures, now decaying, ruined shells- are quite common along Restinga, the peninsula where I live. Most of these houses were abandoned during the independence days and the ensuing war. It's not clear to me who owns these houses. Local friends say that those who abandoned the houses still maintain property rights; others say that they belong to the government, who chooses not to do anythign with them right now. There are so many houses like this. I really would have liked to have seen them in their glory days, with a nice coat of paint and tended gardens. Perhaps they were never like that, but older friends tell me they were quite nice.

I especially like the tear-shaped garage on this one. Don't know if a car ever really fit there, though. You can also see that, in spite of a large trash container right in front of my apartment building, people (don't know who) choose to dump trash on the corner.

(Yes, Restinga has trash-pick up! A pleasant surprise. The garbage trucks used to come at 11 pm, which was a bit disruptive, but now they come around 7 am, which is tolerable. The municipal water company even distributed odd-shaped bright yellow trash bags for free. Of course, some enterprising people stole them from the doors of houses that hadn't picked them up yet and then sold them to local stores.)

Angolan Ninjas in Zimbabwe?

I came across this mysterious article on the BBC News website this afternoon. The Ninjas, a fearsome, black-uniformed arm of the Angolan police, has allegedly been sent to Zimbabwe to train its police force. Hmm. I think the article does well in explaining why this might be worrisome. Zim says, "Yes, they're coming!" And Angola says, "Who? What? What police officers?"

Zimbabwe, meanwhile, is rapidly falling to pieces. Seriously. It's frightening. When I was in Jo'burg a few weeks ago, a Zimbabwean colleague participated, representing our justice and peace programming there. These days she has a difficult job, to say the least. But the saddest to me was how during every break she was calling her teenage daughters in Harare, making sure they were okay. And during every lunch hour she would wolf down her food and run to the mall next door to basic basic things- medicine, underwear, food- to take them to her family and friends.

Not sure if this is getting any coverage in the US. Somehow I don't think so...

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.