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.

Benguela Street Party Series: Struttin'

It was a Friday afternoon and I was trying to explain how to work with formulas in Excel to our office administrative assistant when it all came down. The street in front of our office had been closed and the huge speakers blasting hip hop could only signal one thing: A STREET PARTY EMERGENCY WAS NOW IN EFFECT.

The following videos attempt to capture the fun. The runway show was a subplot through the entire afternoon, with at least five or six installments filling the intervals between lip syncers, dancers, skit performers, and poetry readings.

Sure, the red carpet might be held down with rocks in the middle of the street, but the attitude was first class (some of the end-of-runway turns needed a little work though).

Rolling the highlight reel:


Purse Drop


Sunglass Swoon


Sock-boy lingers


Crazy lady accosts contestants



BONUS VIDEO: The World's Worst Rap Lip Sync Artist

Get out of town!

So I was complaining earlier about having trouble with getting my work visa processed. To no one’s surprise, it didn’t happen before my regular visa expired, and it came time to leave the country or face a daily fine and a nasty little black mark against my passport. A last-minute messy travel planning session ensued and involved brief consideration of options as diverse as flying to Ethiopia or taking a local flight to a southern Angolan town and taking a bush taxi to the Namibian border from there. In the end the only available option was flying to Johannesburg, South Africa. We booked the day before we flew, and spent 4 welcome days in the developed world.

Top ten highlights of the trip:
1. Apartheid Museum
Fairly recently opened, the museum traces the history of South Africa’s settlement and frames the dark chapter of apartheid effectively. Visitors are handed passes randomly – depending on which pass you receive you are forced to enter the museum through the door for whites only or blacks only. Groups are thus forced to experiece the first part of the museum separately, only meeting outside for the walk up to the second (and much more substantial) part of the museum.

The "pillars" of the South African Constitution:


Museum Entrance:


2. Wildlife in Pilanesburg National Park
About a two-hour drive from Johannesburg, this national park is full of wild animals. The lions remained elusive, but the elephants put on a nice show. Zebras, hippos, and giraffes were also in abundance. It was the rhinos that caught my attention mostly though – it was was the first time I’d seen them in the wild. They don’t do much, but they’re so improbable it’s hard to stop watching them. Especially the baby ones…







3. Jacaranda blooming season
These trees are stunning in bloom, and we visited in peak season. I was hoping to visit Pretoria, which apparently is covered in the bright purple blossoms in October, but had to settle for the street we were staying on.



4. Thai food
I just so happened to pick a lodge located in an area of great restaurants, and one of them was Thai. There is no Thai food in Angola. Thai food is my favorite cuisine of all time. I ate there twice (and would eaten there more often if I didn’t capitulate Burch’s pleas for a more diverse dining experience during our visit…wuss).

5. Roller coasters
Unexpectedly, there was an amusement park next to the Apartheid Museum. It did seem like an odd combination at first thought, but on second thought roller coasters are fun. We got to the park just in time to ride the “Anaconda” twice. The second time was in the middle of thunderstorm and they shut the park down afterwards. Friggin’ lightning…



6. Top of Africa
I love views – and this is the best one in Joburg. It also takes you downtown, which is a bit shady. Atop the tower is a large observation area offering unobstructed views in all directions. The remnants of the thunderstorms passing through the area made for a nice backdrop, and I was lucky enough to snap a photo of lightning. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t do that again if I tried.



7. Hot water showers
It’s the little things sometimes. We sort of a have hot water at the apartment Luanda, but it only works by heating water as it passes the showerhead. You can only use it for 10 minutes at a time without shorting the fuse and even when it’s working it’s sort of random. But I digress…hot showers rock.

8. Working internet
Even though we had to pay separately, the internet actually worked in South Africa. The Angolan pasttime of hitting “page reload” five times before reading your email was not missed.

9. Favorable exchange rates
We happened to visit during one of the more active of global financial meltdown weeks, and the dollar kept strengthening to the rand by the minute. We arrived at 9-to-1 and left at close to 11-to-1. In other words, everything was cheap. As an American tourist abroad, this was a relatively new feeling…

10. Beat
Pronounced Bay-aht, this was the name of the friendly Afrikaaner that ran the lodge where we stayed. He was more than willing to discuss just about anything and reminded me what good customer service was all about. I never did work up the courage to ask him about his name…

BONUS PHOTO!

Benguela Dance-Off

A few weeks ago the high school next door to our office in Benguela had an end-of-year street party complete with lip syncing contests, plays, poetry readings, a fashion show, and a dance competition.

The videos in this series try to capture the spirit of the event; this first video shows how the spirit captured one of the spectators. I had no idea it was possible to move like that until I saw this guy get "inspired."

Solving the washing puzzlement: Part III

So after tying a neon green rope between two air conditioner brackets on the balcony of the room adjacent to mine I hung my clothes out to dry. I left to go have some dinner at a little snack bar not too far of a walk from the house and when I got home I was so tired I didn’t notice anything strange.

Around 3a.m. I thought I heard something, and rose to look out my second floor window to catch a glimpse of what seemed like someone scurrying away from the house below. That was strange, but startling enough that I grabbed the flashlight (the power had gone out per usual) and headed out to check out the rest of the house.

That’s when I noticed the door to the room adjacent to mine open. This was the room that had the balcony where my clothes were drying, and upon closer inspection the sliding door that leads to the balcony was also open. My heart was racing by this point, and I went to check out the balcony and noticed that one of my shirts was missing. It was in a position that made it impossible for a random gust of wind to have taken it, and it was the first thing anyone approaching from inside the house would have been able to take. The funny thing was that it was my least favorite polo shirt and had a stain that I couldn’t get out. If someone came to my house and forced me to give away an article of clothing, I would have handed over that shirt without thinking twice. So at least there’s that.

I was, however, struggling to figure out how this happened. Did someone enter while I was sleeping and I didn’t notice? Had someone come in while I was out? Why would they have only taken one shirt? If they really were a burglar, why would they pass up all the electronics we have on the first floor? I know I locked the door when I left - could it have been someone with a key to the house? I pondered these questions the rest of the night and jumped at every noise. I asked my team to solve the riddle the next morning but they didn’t have any suggestions either.

Who knew the washing puzzlement would have such a literal ending? We’re looking into hiring a security guard…

Solving the washing puzzlement: Part II

I solved my washing puzzlement the next day with the help of a colleague, although the process involved manually draining water from the machine into a large tub, over and over. I probably also shouldn't have the machine in the bathroom but it’s the only place in the entire house where an outlet and a water source are located anywhere near each other. I put the power strip in a plastic bag and put a towel over it to protect it from any errant dripping water, but the whole scene was a little shady if I’m honest.

Safety concerns aside I have to say the partly manual, partly mechanized process of washing clothes was enlightening. It was amazing to see how much dirt was in the wash when I was emptying the water from the basin via a flimsy plastic drain tube into a plastic tub, the contents of which then got dumpted into the bathtub.

There was a separate spin dry compartment that sort of sucked excess water away, although I could only manage to put about 3 items in there or else the whole machine shook so violently and loudly that I was afraid I was going to anger the cockroaches en masse (definitely something I wanted to avoid).
It may have taken a few hours longer than I would have liked, but I managed to have some clean clothes after all. After going through all that I'm gonna try a little harder to keep 'em clean...

Solving the washing puzzlement: Part I

Although living in Benguela has its perks over Luanda (no traffic, quiet neighborhood favorable to sleeping, and a picturesque beach in walking distance), some aspects of life aren’t so easy.

Take washing clothes for instance. In Luanda the housekeeper washes and irons at least once a week. I tried to negotiate the same deal with the current housekeeper here in Benguela but to no avail. Her price was too steep and while my management was busy figuring out what to do I was down to my last pair of clean socks.

There was a new washing machine in my bathroom after all, and the marketing on the side of the box was irresitible. Not only did it have the “super fashionable” design, but it also came with “the satellite pulsators.” I don’t know what could be more exciting, and I don’t know how I contained my curiosity for as long as I did.

I had a colleague help me with the box, and within a matter of minutes it was clear I had no clue how this machine worked. I made the mistake of reading the instruction manual, which was tragically yet comically written in perfect Engrish. Reading the manual didn’t help me get my clothes any cleaner, but it did lift my spirits.
















Here are just a few of the gems:

“Surper quiet design: it adopts the low nose drive system with balanced running”

“It has the nice shape, beautiful and attractive and it takes the fancy of the consumer”

“There are small pulsators add to the big pulsator, image the hand washing”

“It may effectively get rid of fine hair scraps in washing course”

And, my favorite:
Large capacity design that “may solve the whole family washing puzzlement”

I like the fact that the authors left room for the possibility that the family washing puzzlement may just not be solve-able. But if it can be done, rest assured this is the machine to take you and your family to that happy place!

Sour Patch Post Office

In something of a test of the capabilities of the American and Angolan postal authorities, a friend of mine sent me a care package from Seattle at the beginning of September. My friend and I were joking that he hoped the package would arrive in time for Christmas, but by some miracle of international commerce during the first week of October I got a notice in the office that a package had arrived. However, instead of actually delivering the package to the office, I had to take a type of claim slip to the main post office to pick it up.

I was expecting a quick exchange, but I should have known better. I sensed trouble as soon as I saw that one of two possible windows had a sign stating “Alfândega” above it, which means “Customs” in Portuguese. Hoping to avoid ending up at this window I started at the adjacent one, and kindly handed my claim slip to a confused-looking postal employee. I think her job was to take the slip and go find my package and bring it to the customs folks. Somehow this act invovled first shuffling through a book of papers about 100 pages thick presumably full of notices for other arrived packages. Of course my matching claim slip was near the bottom and only after rifling through the huge stack twice did she manage to find it. Then she went to look for my package with tortoise-like speed. This part of the process invovled the biggest leap of faith – not only did I not yet have my package, I also did not have my claim slip. Fingers crossed and breath held, I waited.

After twenty minutes my package arrived at – of course – the customs window. I was nervous; during the time it took for my package to arrive I witnessed the process I was about to be subjected to. Wielding a large, opens-any-kind-of-box knife, the customs lady (picture a sassy Marla Gibbs* and you’re pretty close) tore into packages with a little too much gusto for comfort. When it got to my turn her disgruntled customs employee expression changed with the crack of a grin. She rifled through my beef jerky and skittles without much interest, but the big bright bag of Sour Patch Kids caught her eye. She asked what it was, and wielded her knife once more to slash open the bag of what is perhaps the most perfect candy ever known to man**. She must have been relishing the look of terror on my face as her greedy little fingers reached into the bag and plucked an orange one (my favorite flavor!!) and poped it into her mouth right in front of me. The nerve...

Exhibit 1: Customs lady adulterated bag:
















It turns out I got off easy. She only ate one and while completing yet some other paper-intensive process muttered the Portuguese word for “yummy” under her breath. I wasn’t quite done yet unfortunately. I had to go back to the window where I started originally and pay 172 Kwanzas (about $2) as a “customs fee” before I could pick up my package. Not only do they steal your goods they make you pay for the experience! Of course they didn’t have change for me and tried to make me pay too much, but I wasn’t going to fall for that and told the original lady I dealt with that I would wait. The problem wasn’t that she didn’t have change, it was that she somehow lost her key to the change drawer and couldn’t open it. I asked the driver (by now he had come to check on my progress anyway) to make change and before long (but after forty minutes of this madness) I was on my way, finally, with my cherished box o’ processed sugar. I’ll never see a bag of Sour Patch Kids the same way...

*remember the maid from The Jeffersons?
**based on a scientific candy poll conducted by yours truly

Visa Woes? Visa Woes!

So I'm having trouble processing my work visa here in Angola. Aside from a Portuguese copy of my diploma, a police report from my hometown, my resume, and a to-date grand total of 12 passport-sized photos, the authorities require a letter from a physician stating I'm in good health. I arranged all of these documents and turned them in well ahead of time.

Just last week, 2 months after submitting my documents to be processed, I got a note saying my physician's letter was rejected. I asked why, since the letter stated, "the patient is in excellent health and should have no limitations to his travel plans or locales." It was rejected, I am told, because it didn't specifically say "fit to work in Angola." Good lord.

While trying to sort out this mess, I wanted to know if a letter from an Angolan doctor would suffice (since getting a new letter from home was going to be difficult). With this thought in mind, I wrote the following email to the person assigned to work on my case (names have been changed to protect the unhelpful):
_____________________________________

Hi Mr. Blobby,

Can you please confirm that a doctor's letter from within Angola will satisfy the requirements for the work visa process?

Based on the prior experience of some of our colleagues XXXX and I are under the impression that the doctor's letter may need to come from a doctor located outside of Angola. Obviously this would negate our need to see a doctor locally.

I'm hoping you can help us clear up this confusion prior to moving forward with our appointments as scheduled for tomorrow.

Thanks,
Jeremy
_____________________________

The oh-so-clear response:

Hi Jeremy,

requirements says it must be from a doctor abroad, but as you have already one and in spite of not have the required information, I intent to use it as a tentative, the currenty one that you bring from abroad along the one you will apply for. It has result in some few cases before so I intend to try it again.
In the meantime, when you go abroad please apply for another one that can be used in case this one to be denied by the authorities,

please contact me for further clarification in case you have any other question upon this issue,
Mr. Blobby
_____________________________

I went ahead and asked my dad to run around town and procure a new letter. The physician that originally gave me the physical back in June had since retired, but he was willing to come into the office and sign an updated letter with the magic words included. I found out later the office printed the letter with the wrong date of birth. Luckily my dad noticed the error and took the letter back to the doctor's office. Since they didn't want to disturb the doctor's retirement a second time, the office clerk corrected and initialed the changes. This adulterated letter is now costing a fortune to overnight to DC to the organization sponsoring my employment here, and the DC folks in turn are sending a $120 DHL to get it here next week. All this and I'm giving the authorities a 49% chance of accepting it since it involves hand-written updates.

Oh, and the visa people want 4 more passport photos...

I have a headache.

Kizomba Dance Break

This video belongs with the Huambo road trip entries - I think it sums up the type of road trip we had pretty well (quality internet connectivity made uploading possible only now).

Kizomba is something of a national pastime in Angola and involves a kind of close dancing that I haven't managed to learn yet. Featured dancers are Nancy (the American expat who runs the language school in Benguela) and Chinho (whose family we were traveling to visit in Huambo).

Yes, this is the main highway between two of the largest cities in the country. And yes, that really is a woman carrying a log on her head.

Feel free to dance along if the mood strikes...

Palin vs. Clinton SNL

One worth keeping...

First Week at Work

The irony of officially starting my job here in Angola on what was Labor Day in the US wasn’t lost on me, but we ended up having two holidays here during the same week so I can’t complain. Friday was always planned to be a holiday to allow people to vote, but Wednesday ended up being a holiday too. It was an impromptu one, declared on the radio Tuesday night. To top things off Thursday was a half-day that involved a long team lunch.

I did manage to actually get some work done, though, and went on my first company visit by the second day of work. I’ll get into the nature of my job here later, but for now I’ll say it involves playing a consulting role to small and medium sized Angolan businesses. The company I visited was a small IT consulting company that also offered computer training courses. It also manufactured ice. That's right. Ice. If I hadn’t seen this establishment with my own eyes I wouldn’t have believed it, but I can verify that this improbable combination of enterprises does in fact exist under the same roof. In one room there is space to conduct training classes and in the next there are about 8 deep freezers full of plastic buckets of ice. It may seem random, but Angolans can be very practical – the ice is for cash flow while the other part of the business establishes itself (or so I hypothesized).

I don’t know what other interesting combinations lie ahead, but after the visit to the consulting/ice plant I’m definitely curious to find out.

Hamburger à la Angola

Sometimes after a day of work and dealing with Luanda traffic on the way home the last thing you want to do is cook a meal. There aren’t that many quick meal places in our neighborhood, but the one we do have sort of makes up for the lack of options. I’m talking about the burger stand right across the street that has become something of a household addiction, and for good reason. It’s time, dear blog readers, to tell the story of the Angolan hamburger.

For starters, there is actually a layer of “ham” on the hamburger. Right on top of the familiar ground beef patty. What could be more logical? Or endearing? Or tasty!

And that’s not all!

On top of the ham layer comes a fried egg, because you really want to get as much protein as you can in one bite. The egg is topped with whatever condiments you want, but if you want to impress the locals you need to ask for “gindungu” which is a type of spicy diced pepper topping. Otherwise ketchup will do (or mayo or cheese).

But wait, there’s more!

The over-the-top secret ingredient to the local version of the American classic is a layer of crumbled up potato chips underneath the ground beef patty. Whoa.

Did I mention the hamburger patty is cooked with beer? And you thought the story couldn’t get any better. Salvador cooked up a mean version tonight; at 350 kwanzas a pop ($4.67) I’m sure we’ll be back for many more…

Salvador in the process of creating a masterpiece:

Would you like finger grease with your popcorn?

So the other day our crew decided to go to the movies. Lucky for us there’s a new mall on the south side of town with a modern 8-screen movie theatre complete with stadium seating. The movies are pretty modern and subtitled (we saw the latest Indiana Jones movie), so I imagine we’ll be making frequent visits.

The “Angola Moment” came when I decided to treat myself to a bag of popcorn. The concession vendor dutifully filled my bag per usual protocol, but before handing the bag over to me he took a big handfull of popcorn from the top of the bag and chowed down. I asked if anybody else had seen what had happened, but the vendor gave himself away by masticating the evidence with gusto as he took my money. I just laughed and went on my way. What else are you gonna do?

Driving in Angola

Angola, like many developing countries, has its own special protocols when it comes to the rules of the road. The main protocol is that there doesn’t seem to be many rules. The other protocol is that it’s impossible for anything bad to happen to you should you be riding unprotected on a motorcycle. That seems to be what is going through most cyclists heads, anyway. On a trip on the road from Benguela to Lobito, for example, we were overtaken by at least 4 motorcycles exceeding 100km per hour where the driver’s legs were extended parallel to the road. In other words, their bodies were flying behind them, superman-style.



















In gridlocked Luanda, part of the problem (aside from too many cars on the road) is a lack of traffic lights. What’s more, when there are traffic lights they either aren’t working or are working in areas that could get by fine without them (like traffic circles). Much of the gridlock could be helped by relying more on basic traffic flow technology and less on the perpetual game of chicken that determines when you get to make a left turn. The most persistent driver usually prevails, but the game of chicken is conducted respectfully, so at least there’s that. That said I’ve also seen people attempt unannounced right hand turns from the left lane among other incredibly daring motoristic feats. Did I mention how glad I am not to have to drive here? Is motoristic a word?

Tango Delta

So we’re not allowed to drive in Luanda (or all of Angola, technically), and for the most part we’re discouraged even from walking around on our own. We get around thanks to “Tango Delta” – otherwise known as the BP car service. People’s houses have code names (Beta Charlie 55, for example) and when you call for a car an English-speaking dispatcher sends a car to pick you up. Once the car is dispatched they send a text message with the type of car and license number, and they call again when the car arrives. To say traffic in Luanda is bad would be an understatement, so sometimes it can take awhile for the ride to arrive. When it does it’s usually a clean 4x4 with the air conditioner blasting (which is completely unnecessary this time of year). Talking up the drivers is good Portuguese practice, and through interacting with them I’ve managed to become known as “Mr. Geremy.” At least that’s the name they use when sending the confirmation texts. With a little more conversation I might even get a J in there somewhere. I'll take it - at least it's better than being called macaco...

Election Day

The national elections held yesterday represented the first since 1992. The civil war reignited after those elections, so hopefully things to go more smoothly this time around. I’m told there are 10 political parties and 4 coalitions of parties on the ballot, and when Angolan citizens go to the polls the only decision they have to make is which party they support. It’s up to the parties, then, to designate who will represent them based the proportion of votes the party receives. I don’t understand this process fully, but with a little more research I bet it’s easier than explaining the electoral college system in Portuguese. I’ve tried to do this a few times when the subject of how American presidents are election and realize now that this is a fool’s errand. I just say “it’s not a direct vote and it’s complicated” and leave it at that. But I digress.

A lot of the political parties have posted their party platforms around town, and among the more interesting ones promise things like “treating the 7th Day Adventists as equals to the Catholic Church.” Some of the party symbols are interesting also – my favorite features a writing pen with a big star on one end.

In a way I feel like I’m in some kind of bizarro civics class. I have no idea what the level of political discourse is like among the average citizen, but to the uneducated eye there seem to be open displays of support for a diverse number of parties. Are some of these people paid walking advertisements? Maybe, but it’s an exciting atmosphere nonetheless.

The MPLA (Popular Movement for the Liberation of Angola) and UNITA (National Union for the Total Independence of Angola) are the two strongest parties, the former being the party in power and the latter being the main resistance party during the civil war. It’s widely expected the MPLA will win based on their record of managing rapid economic development in recent years. If that doesn’t work, the freebies (bikes, TVs, beer) that the MPLA is apparently handing out at rallies might do the trick. Groups like Human Rights Watch have cited trouble in some rural areas and claim that the MPLA is trying to intimidate opposition parties, but I have to say my own uneducated eye sees pretty visible support for a variety of parties, UNITA included. Unlike in Zimbabwe, representatives from both the EU and the US were invited to Angola to observe the elections as well, which should help lend credibility to the results. Time will tell.

"Vote MPLA" banner outside our apartment:














UNITA and MPLA flags in Luanda (and an idea of what traffic is like):














Not sure how effective the giant beach ball was for the PRS:














"Bread, Peace, Liberty" with non-waterproof party platform posters:



















"We are all part of this flag" general election poster encouraging voter registration:














MPLA outdoing UNITA in the flag size competition:














"MPLA: The right path for a better Angola"














Benguela Party HQ for the FNLA Party "Land and Liberty":

The t-shirts in Angola

There is definitely no shortage of style in Angola. One unexpected fashion-related feature of this country is that the most random t-shirts find their way here. Apparently that load of clothes you took to Goodwill that didn’t get bought locally winds up on a container to Africa, where they have another chance at life. The fact that many locals here don’t read English leads to some comical results. Unfortunately getting photos of these t-shirts is kind of hard, since they’re usually spotted while driving quickly through town. I promise to try harder.

I imagine this to be an ongoing theme during my time here, but here are my top 3 so far:

#3: Red and white jacket with “ZEBRAS” printed on it
I went to a high school where the mascot was a zebra, and our team colors were red and white (a topic for another blog entry). What’s more, the font and style of the jacket look exactly like ones I used to see all the time growing up. What are the chances some other school in some parallel universe is represented by a red-and-white zebra? Pretty slim, so the fan base for Claremore High School is a little bigger than may have been previously thought.

#2 “West Salem Cheerleading”
At first glance this isn’t so weird, except that the decidedly girly pattern on the back was worn by a tough-looking young man on a motorcycle. If he only knew…

#1 “My Other Ride Is Your Mom”
This one was spotted on a 9 year-old boy (I’m guessing the age) at a gas station in Huambo – the one across the street from a tall green buildling in the central part of the city that has yet to be renovated. I give the details in case anyone happens to run across this one again because unfortunately my attempts to take photos failed. The slogan was in big black letters on the back of a bright red t-shirt. Reward offered for anyone who can track this shirt down.

Fun With Foreign Language Textbook Cartoons

I may be going out on a limb here, but I think the foreign-language-textbook-cartoon is one of the most underrated art forms. Just look at the examples below – the options for what these people could be saying are just endless.

Each vingnette featuring some aspect of the lives of these fictional foreign-language speakers is just begging for some obnoxious caption or subtitle. Knock yourself out and see how much fun you can have.



















































On the other hand, some images are just scary. Who wants to learn the words for body parts from a demonic baby? Run away!

Living in "Sim City"

One thing I forgot to mention in the last entry is that I left for the weekend living on a dirt road and returned Sunday night to a paved one. The upside is that I’m no longer greeted by huge street-level dust clouds when I leave the house to walk to school, and this is a very good thing. New paved roads are coming online so fast I feel like I’m living in a real-life version of Sim City…

Apparently this love affair with asphalt is related to the upcoming elections on September 5. Most expats I know are mysteriously planning trips to be out of the country that day, except for yours truly and my colleagues at CAE. Most of the Angolans I have spoken to don’t expect trouble, however. I’ve managed to see campaign posters for at least 3 different political parties, but the MPLA (the party in power) is clearly the most organized. Some people think the spending on infrastructure development will subside after the MPLA (most likely) wins the elections, hence the rush to pave everything in sight leading up to September 5. We’ll see.

The odd thing is that even though the roads are being paved in most areas the sidewalks are still uneven mounds of fine dirt. In residential areas most people walk on the streets now, myself included. And another thing - there is no drainage! The paving company paves right over the previous drains and apparently a separate company has to come in and re-open the drains. Good thing it doesn't rain much here. Imperfections in the system aside, for now I’ll enjoy the smooth and newly dust-free walk to school…


Before:














After:

















Road to school in process:

August Weekend #2 (The Midadventures of Burch)

Our day of sightseeing took us to a lake on the outskirts of town. The area included hills sprinkled with giant boulders that were just waiting to be climbed, and it wasn’t long before Burch and I were leading an expedition to the top of the most prominent one. At some point along the way I lost burch, cut myself, started bleeding, and decided it was best to forgo my illusions of grandeur and stay below to await the more successful climbers in our group. At about the time I found my way back to a shady place to rest Burch was yelling from the top of the highest boulder and asked me to take a picture, a request which I dutifully obliged.

Burch, triumphant:

















It turns out after about another half hour of rest word came that Burch could not get down. To make matters more interesting a wildfire that we noticed in the distance before had suddenly started to approach with discomforting speed. My attempts to help weren’t very fruitful – by the time I got to the base of the boulder where Burch was stuck (after falling twice myself) two others of our group had already arrived and were helping him down. This freed me to take some photos, which I did with gusto. Luckily the fire waited long enough for us to evacuate in the car, although we did find out it was indeed wild after the park guards asked us if we had any information about who set it. So much for a nice hike in the park…

Burch, the comeuppance:


















The intrepid hiking gang:

August Weekend #2: Huambo (The War)

Reminders of the civil war were everywhere in Huambo, which happened to be a major center of control for the opposition party, UNITA. Bombed-out buildings were common, and even park statues did not escape becoming targets. That said, there is a lot of fast-pased reconstruction going on in the city, and it’s interesting how easy it was to tour the bombed-out former house of the opposition leader (Savimbi) formerly known as the “White House.” There is absolutely nothing stopping anyone from walking right into the ruins and even walking up the exposed concrete stairwell. So we did, of course.

View from the second floor of Savimbi's house:



Front view of Savimbi´s house, with UNITA flags:



Building apparently used for target practice:



Hint of happier times at the New York Social Club:



Bombed-out high rise:


While waiting to see if Burch could figure out how to get down from the rock he had so victoriously climbed, Emilio, Chinho, Rebecca found a shady place to rest. Emilio started telling a story about what life was like during the war in very graphic detail (I have to warn the rest of this entry is pretty macabre…proceed at your own risk).

He told stories of soldiers killing babies and, when their parents were found, they would chop up the body parts and make a stew which the soldiers would then force the parents to eat. “Isto aconteceu aqui em Huambo” he kept repeating…”This happened here in Huambo.” This kind of story might seem familiar to someone who has ready about intimidation tactics in other wars throughout history, but the chilling part is that this kind of stuff was going on only six years ago. In other words, while I was running financial models in my company’s grand effort to sell more jeans in San Francisco, parents in Angola were being forced to eat their offspring. More chilling still is the fact that this kind of stuff is probably happening as we speak in Darfur. It’s not fun to think about.

August Weekend #2: Huambo (The Journey)

Our first chance for a weekend roadtrip came with an offer to visit Angola’s second-largest city, Huambo. In theory it is a 6 hour drive into the interior and involves a decent elevation change. In reality our fearless leader “forgot” that there were two routes to reach Huambo from Benguela, and we chose the path less traveled. That normally wouldn’t be a problem, except that the reason it was less traveled is that the road is potholed so badly (or simply not paved) that we averaged about 20km per hour and the journey ended up taking 10 hours instead of 6. The scenery was gorgeous though, passing through baobab forests, mountains, and hot springs before continuing the bumpy journey at night (with varying musical accompaniment ranging from Rhiannon to the Backstreet Boys). A particular highlight was a stop at sunset where some of our traveling companions enjoyed a brief kizumba dance break in the middle of the road.

Kizumba Dance Break:

















Still Some Work Left on the Regional Highway System:

















Sunset on the return to Benguela:

















Volcanic Remnants:


















As a fan of roadtrips in the states the following 3 things stood out the most:

1. There are no animals and hence no roadkill. Apparently all the animals (even the small ones) were killed and eaten during the war. I hear there's a repopulation effort going on in some areas, but since the war only ended in 2002, populations haven’t had time to recover yet.

2. There are no roadside services. If you run out of gas or need a place to sleep, you are out of luck. The few towns you pass through are just not set up to accommodate leisure road traffic. The only food we found were some roadside vendors – our favoriate vendor turned out to be the lady selling chicken pieces on the bone for 50 kwanzas each (about 80 cents).

Angola Fast Food:


















3. Most of the towns we passed through consisted of mud-brick buildings with thatched roofs that did not have electricity. Plenty of families were eating dinner by candlelight, as we did on Saturday night once we got to Huambo.

Rural Villages Along the Way: