Mr. Benguela 2009

Angolans seem to love beauty pageants, and unlike Americans they have no problem parading around attractive young people without regard to gender. An Angolan friend of mine was organizing the “Mr. Benguela” event and was surprised by my enthusiastic response when he asked if I would be interested in attending. The fact that I could channel my enthusiasm through a female date visiting from Luanda was all the better.

The excitement we both had leading up to the night was tempered immediately when the sponser for the event abused us with a 47-minute power point presentation about globalization that appeared to be a summary of Thomas Friedman’s “The World is Flat.” While entertaining ourselves by swapping text messages with notes like “he is sucking my will to live” and “OMG, is he still talking?”, he rambled on and on, apparently unaware that he was standing between both the evening’s entertainment and, perhaps more importantly, the promised post-event dinner. The crazy part was that this presentation was apparently part of his sales pitch to get us to visit his table full of jewelry and shoes. Poor guy. Poor, clueless, sponsor guy.

The pace and audience interest picked up considerably once he finally shut up and the 22 candidates for Mr. Benguela entered the performance area and began a choreographed hiphop dance intro. The rest of the program invovled novel talent competition ideas, mostly centered around the theme of “Drugs Aren’t Cool.” There was a skit involving soccer players shunning a friend that was trying to convince the others to try pot. A surprisingly similar skit appeared later titled “Basketball” with pretty much the same plot. There was traditional dancing and some pretty bad singing, but my favorite event was something called “Locutor” on the program. This involved one candidate acting like a radio reporter, interviewing other candidates on the social ills of youth drug usage. Tragically, there was no swimsuit competition.

The "Locutor" in action:


The unofficial "look good in a wife-beater" competition:


Scene from "Basketball"...or was it "Soccer"?



The night ended without a winner being named – apparently this was only the first phase “introduction” of the candidates, and a second phase selection process happens later. Way to keep us in suspense, Mr. Benguela 2009 organizers! We enjoyed the aforementioned dinner with some quality champagne-like product that proudly advertised itself as “naturally lively white” and called it a night shortly thereafter. All in all not bad for a random Thursday night’s entertainment…

An "essence of champagne" beverage thoughtfully provided by the event sponsors:

Spin the Wheel o' Holidays

I think I’m getting a taste of what it might be like to be a federal employee back home. Since New Year’s Day we’ve had four public holidays here, with four more on the calendar before the end of May. That definitely beats the New Year’s – to Memorial Day holiday drought that I’m used to.

A brief summary of the Angolan holiday calendar to date:

5 JANUARY: MARTYR’S DAY
I have no idea what martyr-related event this is supposed to comemorate, but I appreciated the chance it offered to rest after a stressful trip back to the country after spending New Year’s in Cape Town (blog post about that pending, but I haven’t had a connection strong enough to post the accompanying video).


4 FEBRUARY: START OF THE ARMED STRUGGLE DAY
Somebody needs to come up with a shorter name for this holiday, which comemorates the start of the Angolan independence movement in 1967. Or something like that. The holiday seemed to parallel the American 4th of July, which brought back some hazy memory of my social studies teacher saying that revolutions usually starting in the summer (don’t tell the Bolsheviks).

Anyway, it was one of those random middle-of-the-week Wednesday holidays that seem sort of clunky. In a way it forces you just to relax though, and I took an invitation to spend the day at the beach with some new friends from the gym. The day was relaxing, even though the refreshments my friends brought left something to be desired (canned processed meat was a little too abundant).

Making new friends at the beach:


Here's to the end of the armed struggle:



24 FEBRUARY: CARNAVAL
After reading a description in the Lonely Planet guide about Angolans parading around with semi-dead cats to celebrate Carnaval I had some pretty high expectations for this holiday. To my surprise it turned out to be not much of a big deal, especially in Benguela, which swaps holding a parade with its sister city Lobito, 30 km to the north. This was Lobito’s year, so when I left the house with camera in hand all I found were some kids from Benguela boarding a bus heading north. I spent the day reading in the park instead, enjoying the shade and cool sea breeze while trying to avoid getting pecked by a persistent rooster. All things considered not a bad way to spend a holiday, if a little less festive than one might expect for a day associated with revelry. In fact things got even better when I met up with a friend to share a carbonated malt beverage and a huge plate of freshly prepared french fries while watching the parade in Luanda on television at an outdoor bar.

Who could resist reading and/or playing with chickens in a park like this:


Watching the events in Luanda in comfort and style:


The real highlight was a 2-stage beach party held the previous night (the first stage was the prior Saturday night) in Baia Azul, about 30 minutes south of Benguela. It was a pay-one-price-all-you-can-eat-and-drink affair, and I made sure I got my fill of grilled chicken and red bull in between attempts at dancing. The locals took the costume aspect of the party to heart, with results ranging from entertaining (sexy nuns seemed to be a popular choice) to disturbing (adult diapers entered the picture at one point). It was the best party I had been to in a very long time.

PS: Don’t believe the Lonely Planet comment about Angolans parading semi-dead cats around Luanda. An Angolan friend debunked that story, so there you have it.


8 MARCH: INTERNATIONAL WOMEN’S DAY
This was observed here this past Monday, which made for a 3-day weekend and a perfect excuse to take a trip somewhere. I hitched a ride with some coworkers to Lubango, about a 7-hour trip south of Benguela in a region much cooler and more lush than anything I have yet experienced in Angola. It was nothing short of friggin’ awesome and deserves it’s own blog entry, so stay tuned for more details. For now I’ll just say I’m glad the regional bus lines offer separate compartments for humans and live fowl.

Dia dos Namorados

I had a feeling it was going to be a good night when I was sitting at the beachfront bar watching Fedde Le Grand videos projected on the big screen (“Put Your Hands Up For Detroit” had taken on a new meaning recently after I discovered a South African brand of refreshing vodka beverage called “Detroit Dash” at a local bar, but I digress already). It was Valentine’s Day, after all, and to my surprise it is celebrated seriously in Angola, where it is known as “Dia dos Namorados.” Streetside vendors were hawking stuffed animals and flowers everywhere, and I had tickets to a play at the same cinema where I had been the solo customer to see a movie a few weeks prior. This time I knew I wouldn’t be alone though – I had a date with an American friend in town from Luanda and was excited to share the wonders of Benguela’s cultural offerings.

The theatre was decorated with roses fastened to the seats lining the aisles, and rose petals littered the seating area floor. Chalk outlines of hearts and other symbols of the day added to the décor. After taking bets with my date about when the show would actually start (only about 50 minutes after the posted start time), we were startled by a ruckus at the back of the theatre – apparently this troupe liked dramatic entrances. It took all of about two minutes for the first character to die from a stray bullet, but the character did live long enough to grace the audience with an incomprehensible soliloquy before expiring, which was sort of a classy way to go.

The rest of the play featured poor lighting and bad sound projection, to the point that the Angolan audience was shouting “speak up” and “turn on the lights” periodically. While there were some technical problems, there were also some pretty awesome moments, like when one of the main characters became possessed by a witch doctor in a dramatic scene involving red floor lights and dry ice smoke. Even more dramatic was a subsequent scene when the same character was exorcised by a charismatic preacher and turned into a chicken. A live chicken. Looking back, the preacher waving around the chicken as proof as God’s glory was probably the highlight and worth the price of admission alone (for those keeping track of the Angolan live entertainment industry said price of admission was Akz 1,500 or $20).

It was the best Valentine’s Day I can remember.

Pre-Light Dimming Look at Stage:


The crowd at the posted starting time (it filled up much more eventually):


Gene Kelly greets you on the way out (have you seen Xanadu? Run, don't walk):

Angolan Cuisine: A Primer

A lot of people have been asking about the food here. The short answer might be a little disappointing, because grilled chicken with rice and french fries is a pretty staple lunch here, and that’s just not very exotic now, is it? There’s also no exotic game meat compared to what you might see on the menu in other southern African countries (sorry, kudu lovers). Steak and fish round out the main protein sources, as well as canned beans, corn, and peas imported from either Portugal or South Africa.

Typical self-prepared meal (rice, canned beans and corn, and ground beef, with mangoes for dessert and "30 Rock" DVD for entertainment):


Like anywhere though, there are a few local specialties that might raise an eyebrow, so I’ll summarize these along with a few notes on how food is different here, after all.

SUMMARY OF SOME ANGOLAN FOODS

FUNGE
Made with either corn flour or manioc flour, this is the most common Angolan comfort food. It’s basically a white-ish pasty substance, at times gelatinous, and nearly always flavorless (at least when I’ve tried it). Some Angolan friends insist it does have a flavor, but I think that’s pride talking. Think of mashed potatoes meets homemade glue, minus the potato flavor. Hungry yet?

Manioc (cassava) flour drying:


The final product (www.pbase.com/arodri3/ image/59692522):



KISANGUA
Fermented corn beverage, low alcohol content. Thirsty yet?

BAOBAB POD SOUP
I haven’t tried this, but hear it’s done. Even my Angolan colleague admits it's not her favorite food…

The trees:


The pods:



BEANS IN PALM OIL
Heavy texture, also found in cuisine of the Brazilian Northeast (it's called dindê oil there).

DRIED, SALTY FISH
Grouper (garopa) is the ubiquitous main catch, and cod (bacalhau) is popular too. You see the salty stuff in roadside stalls and in the supermarkets. I’ve yet to try it but will give it a shot one of these days.

Take your pick!



SWEET STUFF: SUGARCANE, PINEAPPLE, AND MANGO
The cane is my least favorite of the three - it's a lot of work per calorie and although it was sweet it left my throat feeling a little scratchy. The local pineapple crop was a pleasant surprise though. I never liked pineapple back home but here it seems juicier and sweeter. As for the mangoes, they are fresh off the tree and so juicy it ought to be a crime. A clear highlight of the local culinary options. It would be my favorite if it weren’t for…

Not so sure about the sugarcane:


The pineapple comes to you:


GINDUNGO
The best aspect of Angolan cuisine, bar none. It’s the local hot sauce, usualy homemade, that gets better over time and can really pack a punch. With this stuff even funge might be palatable. Maybe.

Bonus Photo: TAP Air Portugal meal on the flight from Lisbon prompting my traveling colleague to comment "that looks like something I would actually make":

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):