An evening at the, um, "movies"

I was excited. This was my second weekend in Benguela and since the first consisted largely of seeking refuge from the afternoon heat in the house, I was determined to be more social. I don’t know many people here yet, so I spend a lot of time alone on the weekends. I also don’t have transportation, so my travels are limited to where my feet feel like taking me. In order to break the ennui, I decided on Saturday that my feet would take me to the beachside bar where I could read and enjoy a caipiroska (or two) while watching the sunset. It wasn’t a bad plan, and I had fun.

On the way there I stopped by the Cinema building to see what might be on offer, in hopes that I could extend my evening via some kind of passive entertainment. I knew that sometimes they held live plays there and about once a month they even showed movies. This was my weekend, it seemed, because they were advertising a movie that very night and the following Sunday. It was an Angolan-produced film, which only served to increase my curiosity.

After the sunset I raced home to change clothes and head back out to the theatre. I was a little worried about showing up 10 minutes late, but when I got there it turns out they decided not to show the film that night. “Tomorrow” was the answer I got from the only two people I could find near the entrance to the theatre. So much for my Saturday night at the movies…

Sunday was a new day and I was not about to give up on my quest to see this month’s movie event. I showed up at about 10 minutes before the advertised time of 6:40pm and was told they weren’t selling tickets yet, so I just sat on the steps and waited. Around 6:45pm they let me buy a ticket (1000 AKz, or $13.33) and I stepped inside the cavernous two-level 2,000 seat theatre. I should have known I was in for something outside the normal movie-going experience when I asked to use the bathroom before the show and was led to a side room with a quarter inch of standing water. I tiptoed into a stall and raised the toilet seat, at which time the compartment above the toilet that holds the water fell off the wall. There wasn’t any water in it thankfully (apparently it had found its way to the floor already), and I race tip-toed outta there as quickly as possible.

Back in the cavern I picked a seat about 4 rows back from the front and sat down in anticipation of the show. Some disco music was playing in the side speakers lending a festive atmosphere, but I looked around and noticed that I was completely alone, surrounded by 1,999 empty seats. Around 7:15pm the show finally started, apparently just for me. And the army of mosquitos surrounding me. I took to slapping them as best I could but it was a fool’s effort, and lucky for me the mosquito parade lasted the entire show. Did I mention there was no air conditioning and the temperature in the theatre was a balmy few degrees hotter than it was outside? Good times for all.

The film (oh, right! I came to see a movie!) was called “Dimo and the Home for Boys” and I braced myself for some serious content when the film was dedicated to abused children during the opening credits. The movie opened with the story of a young boy that preferred art to fishing, which apparently was problem enough for his father to try to kill him first by drowning him and then by chasing him out of town with a machete.

At this point in the plot the power cut out, and I was sitting alone in the cave unable to see anything. The lights came back on after a minute, but the outage required the viewing audience (i.e. me) to re-watch the first 20 minutes of the horribly depressing plot (apparently advancing the DVD to the place where we left off was too difficult).

Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse the two technical employees that had previously been running the show from the balcony decided to sit and watch the movie from below. Proving Murphy’s Law infallable, they chose to sit directly across the aisle from me, and proceeded to talk through the entire movie. I got up and moved to the front row to focus on the show.

The rest of the plot involved Dimo (the kid with the infanticidal father) getting picked up by a truck driver who takes him to Luanda. While there, Dimo lives at a home for abandoned kids and eventually his talent as an artist is discovered. His father chases him to Luanda and, upon realizing how others appreciate his son’s talent, asks forgiveness and reconciles with the young boy. At least it had a happy ending. I walked home.

Can't wait for next month's show!

Proof of Purchase:

Cockroach Comeuppance

Benguela is a tropical climate and it’s not a huge surprise that when the lights go out a secret kingdom of giant cockroaches emerges in the kitchen at the house here. There is no plumbing under the kitchen sink so water and food particles just fall to the concrete floor below (seriously) which leaves a nice smorgasboard for the critters (in addition to creating a nice rain-like sound effect). I’ve tried to inspire a conversation about serious fumigation efforts, but since that involves buying something and since my organization doesn’t have any money I’m resolved to just live with the critters for now. I’ve gotten pretty good at stomping on them (after the initial shock of their sheer size wore off), which isn’t easy as they can sense the arrival of the bottom of my shoe and scurry around in erratic patterns to make it difficult. That just makes it all the more satisfying when I do nab one, and I’ve started to keep a tally just for kicks. I’m up to 8 so far this week.

More impressive are the cockroach population control tactics of a certain species of lizard that also inhabits the kitchen. The Portuguese name for this animal is the “jacaré da parede”, or, literally, “crocodile of the wall”. They are gecko-ish white animals that blend in to the wall and move suddenly, which usually makes your heart stop for second before you realize what’s happening. I was hoping these animals had an appetite for cockroach, and one Sunday afternoon I came home to proof that my wishes had been granted. I have no idea how this particular gecko managed to catch this particular cockroach, but I arrived in time to watch the feast. I have a feeling Mr. Gecko didn’t need to eat for awhile after digesting this meal, but I hope he’s hungry again soon and brings his hungry gecko family with him. It was a cheap thrill but hey…you take your entertainment however you can get it here. Enjoy!

Back in Luanda: What? You Wanted Water?

After more than two weeks in South Africa enjoying afforable meals and hot showers, I was dragging my feet a little on the return trip to Angola. It’s only a three hour flight from Johannesburg to Luanda, but it takes some mental work to prepare for the change in lifestyle that awaits.

Like the calm before the storm, the first couple of days back were surprisingly comfortable. The power was on, the water was flowing, and I had the apartment to myself since I was the first one to return. That situation lasted about two days, and as Murphy’s Law would have it the power went out the day another colleague arrived. Not having power woudn’t be so bad if it didn't also translate into us not having any running water. This occurs because our water tank is underground and we need power to pump it up into our second-floor apartment. You might be wondering why we don’t have a water tank on the roof so we could just let gravity do the work, but then you’d be applying logic, and such activity will quickly lead to insanity in Angola (so it’s best avoided).

Knowing this, we have large plastic trash cans that we fill with water on days when we have power so that we can continue to bathe (using buckets), wash the dishes, and flush the toilets on the days when we don’t have power/water.

Diversion #1
Did you know you can flush a toilet just by pouring water into the basin? I had no idea this was possible but it makes perfect sense – that’s all that’s happening anyway when you flush. Living in Angola is definitely good for learning how things work – because often they don’t and the backup plan requires this knowledge. It’s sort of like learning how to do long division by hand after getting used to calculators. It’s possible, but you just didn’t have to think about it before.

Anyway the power came back on after 10 hot hours and just in time for me to log into the internet and follow the Oklahoma/Florida football game.

Diversion #2
For once I wish the power had stayed off and allowed me to avoid the agony of watching another chance at a national title go down the drain. Seriously, what’s up with OU losing so many title games recently…get it together already!! Boomer Sooner.

We enjoyed power and water for the weekend, but the situation reached absurd levels the first full week of work. Although we had some power, the fuse that controls the water pump (and all of the outlets except for one, which meant we had to take turns charging our computers and phones) went out and replacing it took four days (apparently the part was hard to locate). Our reserve water was gone after a day (there were three of us in the apartment by this point, with three people’s dishes to wash, and three people’s business to manually flush) and by day 2 we were all pretty much miserable.

Our office’s solution was to bring extra drinking water tanks (we have a water cooler in the apartment) so that we could bathe in the drinking water. Although we used this water to flush toilets and wash our hands, etc., using it to bathe seemed like such a waste that we opted to use the showers at the gym in the morning instead. Our stubborn driver didn’t like this plan since it involved him spending an extra 30 minutes waiting on us, so this solution required some negotiation. It’s possible that our collective body odor won that argument...

The power eventually returned the day I traveled to Benguela (after a week’s delay processing some work documents that I needed for domestic travel, but that’s another story altogether) and I was able to take a cold shower. Relief at last!

Meanwhile the conversation about getting a new generator continues, and it’s the same conversation we’ve been having since we arrived in September. As it turns out acquiring the generator is only half the battle – the door to the shack where the generator goes has been ripped off and there’s a family living in the vacant space. Now we have to evict the squatters, weld a new door in place, install four locks (this was the office’s idea), and hire a guard to watch it 24 hours a day. The same guard needs to watch the access to our underground tank – before the holidays someone broke the lock to that and started bathing in our water, but that’s another story yet again. Nothing is easy here…

The front entrance to our palace in Luanda (the Range Rover, sadly, is not ours):

So What Exactly Do You Do Again?

I christen new tractors with champagne. Well, not personally, but my team does.




I work for an NGO called Centro de Apoio Epresarial, known in the marketplace locally as CAE. In short we’re a business support center trying to help small and medium sized Angolan companies get plugged into the supply chain infrastructure of the petroleum industry. The basic philosophy is that small business is really what drives new job growth in any economy, and with 70% of the country living below the poverty line, more jobs are definitely needed.

For those that aren’t aware, Angola is either the #1 or #2 oil producer in Africa and its potential is not yet fully explored. In a way the country is still getting back on its feet after a 27-year-long civil war ended only in 2002. The pace of infrastructure construction is brisk, with new highways, airports, bridges, ports, railroads, soccer stadiums, hotels, condos, etc. going up like a real-life version of the computer game Sim City. This situation not only describes Luanda, the capital, but many regional cities as well.

But enough about that – back to what I’m doing here. Our sponsors are a consortium of oil companies (BP, Esso, Chevron, Total, and the national oil company, Sonangol). We work with them on one side to understand their procurement processes and to identify opportunities to increase local content. Not only is it much cheaper to source locally (Angola’s ports are clogged and many supplies are sent via plane, which only adds to the cost), but it’s just good business to support the local community. The challenge is finding local suppliers that meet international safety and qualiity standards, and that’s where CAE comes in.

We work with Angolan SMEs (small and medium enterprises) to professionalize their operations. Our certification process verifies that these companies have transparent accounting procedures, effective human resources practices, consistent financial reporting, and meet high health and safety requirements. All of our work is pro bono and takes the form of consulting engagements, technical assistance, and training events.

At the moment I’m working in a regional office in Benguela, which is one of the main agricultural areas of the country (an hour’s flight south of the capital). The main crops grown locally are bananas, corn, tomatoes, tobacco, and coffee. I could go on about the agricultural value chain and how we try to link these agribusinesses into the supply chain of the local petroleum industry, but I think you get the point.

That brings me to the tractor. One of our agribiz clients called on a Friday afternoon to say he was having a dedication ceremony for a new machine. He was a banana farmer, but the tractor will allow him to plant more diversified crops and increase his productivity. We piled into one 4x4 and headed out to the field to take part in the festivities. I was personally more excited about the large mango tree filled with ripe fruit, but I wasn’t complaining about the unexpected champagne toast either. So ended another day in Angola…

Fit-mess

There are two options for gyms in Benguela. Both cost about the same and offer roughly the same type of equipment. Only one, however, has disturbing images of multi-armed blue monster people painted on the walls, so I'll give you one guess where my $100 per month membership fee is going. Imagining this creature questioning me about the intensity of my workout is a surprisingly effective motivator...

Pepino Birthday Party & Tree o' Crustaceans

One weekend I was invited to a birthday party for something of a local legend. Pepino was turning 86 and is probably Angola’s most famous cyclist. He’s cycled from Benguela to Luanda and back more than once and his latest project is to get a group of world-wide "Pepino’s" to come to Angola and do the ride with him. He’s a communist (huge paintings of Marx and Lenin adorn his bike shop) and has his coffin already made and waiting for him in the attic (confirmed by trustworthy inside sources).

While most people came to celebrate another year in the life of this amazing man, I was personally more fascinated by the tree-o-shellfish. I’ve never seen anything like it – there’s an aluminum foil tree laden with lobster, shrimp, and crab and you just reach in an grab what you want off the tree. I took a lobster tail. For as rediculously expensive as food is in Angola, lobster is surprisingly affordable so I didn’t feel too guilty doing this (the fact that I didn’t even know Pepino didn't bother me somehow…)

I wish Pepino well. And if they’re going to have that shellfish tree again at next year’s party I hope I’m invited…

Benguela Street Party Series: Dancin'

The fashion show was definitely entertaining, but the dancing was probably better. Don't take my word for it:

Freestyle Dance-Off (don't try this at home)



Butt Dance
It's obvious the poor girl has been training for this dance for weeks, only to be upstaged by the girl in the audience.



Kizomba Time
Something of a national pasttime, this slow dance requires one to first locate and then deftly employ the hips



Spectators Not to be Left Out
I had this guy as separate post before, but thought he made a nice cap to the dance series also. If they ever decide to do a worldwide search for a human gumby they should start in Benguela.