Written: March 30, 2007
Last Sunday was grey, a little humid, and quiet except for the sweet voices of children playing outside. It must have rained the night before because when a car rumbled by I could hear the water from the puddles swooshing around. Oh and there was my hated friend the rooster...it just never shuts up, absolutely incredible.
Sorry for not having written for so long but I have been absolutely nackered in the evenings. The office hours are long but the work is fascinating, the intellectual challenge I was yearning for. Did you know that in 2006 the oil company Exxon Mobile made approximately $10,000 profit EVERY MINUTE in Angola? And that in the same year, they made a $5,600 profit for every child born in Angola? Unbelievable! I will be seeing them next week.
The women with the great posture, I mentioned before, I think have been taught by a mastermind, a small frail women that passed my office yesterday who, while balancing a bundled of brooms on her head, was breast feeding her small baby...she did not stop to rest, rather kept walking along, through the crowds as if she was on her own. That woman had places to go!
I have seen more variety lately in the bundles carried above the crowds: plums, grapes, bananas, plastic jugs in all the colors of the rainbow, and thick baguettes. I have to learn the prices before I start supporting the local vendors.
There is no local bus or taxi system in Luanda. There are pale blue mini-vans that act like taxis for the general public but I not dare jump on board. Other than the fact that our security team woudl havemy neck, I am not sure how I would squeeze in the crowded 8 seater which I once counted with 14 passangers inside. Reminded me of India's trains with people hanging off the sides.
To get back home from work in the evenings there are "shuttles" (UNICEF SUV or pickup trucks) that leave at 5pm, 6:30pm and if you request in advance, 8pm. These shuttles are our band of huge UN cars which I have affectionately named Rhino and Elephant for the six feet antennas they sport on the front of their hoods. Only once I caught the early one and I'm glad I did because it took me on a tour of another part of the city I had yet to see (honestly I have seen very very little of this city since having arrived three weeks ago).
One of my beloved aunts wrote to say I sound delirious in my emails. Maybe I am losing it a bit (or havealready lost it). I can't help loving all the small things that make Luanda a paradise despite colleagues not having water and electricity. Even last Friday night at Angela's house (Angela is my boss) in the middle of a party, we had a black out...but the beauty of that is that the candles come out and no one seemed bothered by the blaring generator that spits out a diesel.
Today is Friday and we only work half day until 1pm...but i stayed til 3pm. Not sure what to do with myself in the afternoons. Without a car there is no where to go but I should be grateful for the quiet time jsut to relax and of course write this email.
Every night is has been pouring rain and I only know because the street are wet in the mornings. I can now sleep through the storms and the earliest morning rooster calls. The rain unlike in other places, brings mud and floods to the city rather than washing everything away. There is no funcioning drainage system in the city and open man holes are a scary reality. One day after work we drove past three little boys, near the main road, hunched over a man hole trying to splash the water onto themselves. We all shuttered at the thought of the illnesses they could catch from that dirty, if they weren't already sick. There was one little girl maybe 3 years old, a little princess wearing only a bright red skirt, pouncing in the puddles and playing with a plastic bucket where the water trickled down. Again my heart gets stuck in my throat thinking about the contaminated water.
In the main downtown or business area of the city ruins can be seen all over. Some have a Portuguese facade. The pain has peeled, the main structure has worn away and grabage is sprawled all around but a tree grows out of the window, reaching out toward the sky, just to say "I am still alive".
This is a spirit I find true in the Angolan people. One of the drivers explained to me just yesterday the happiness "alegria" that Angolans have always felt even during the war. He said soilders lined both sides of the streets but in any empty pocket you would find the people having a party "en fiesta". Just today as I walked out of the office, at the corner six women were hanging out, two dancing around to their own singing as a play along to entertain their other friends. It was nice to see, a little party of their own on a hot Luanda afternoon. I felt out of place and dull, standing their in my suit jacket waiting for the shuttle to come...but I enjoyed the scene nevertheless.
There are signs of great properity in Luanda, like the Ministry of Finance building that stands proud in dark pink stone and clean green glass. And ofcourse the huge colonial bank building. Having gone on a couple of rounds in the shuttle, to drop off other colleagues, modern shops are few but in hidden pockets. In one window I saw shiny gold high heel shoes..but this is not Kansas.
One building that caught my eye, not only for its beautifully renovated European style facade, but for its name, was the National Museum of Anthropology...somehow such a place seemed out of place....I thought it great that such sciences were treasured but why don't the schools and hospitals look that nice?
Quite a few people in the streets are disable, on crutches or wheelchairs, some old fashioned ones that you ride with a hand churn and others like the ones you find in a hospital. At Sunday mass last Sunday, in the courtyard, I saw a man in a new sports wheelchair which I thought was great. These chairs are more durable and lighweight so its easier to get around. What sticks out in my mind most is a man enjoying the scenery at the beach. All alone he sat in his wheelchair, at the edge of the beach where it meets the sidewalk, staring out over the Bay, the same Bay I enjoyed so much other night at dinner. I guess we havesomething in common, he and I.
To reach my hotel the last strip of the drive is the ocean to the left and the Bay towards the city to my right. Along the ocean beach fishing boats sit overturned, children chase each other up and down mounds of sand and a few vendors carrying covered loads or stolen goods drag their feet along, hot and tired after a full day wandering. Usually the sun is starting to set on my way home and it's reflection makes the water sparkle like diamonds. I always seem to sigh and wish I could hang out at the beach. My colleague Marie-Claire told me that the ocean side is deliciously clean. Maybe this weekend I can find someone to go with, that of course depending on getting a lift too.
Oh and then there is the music of Ray Charles! His song "Georgia" I think should be re-written for Angola "in peaceful dreams I see, the road leads back to you".
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