It's the little things

On our way to Pambala, a beach 2 hours from Luanda (north bound) where we picked veggies from a huge vegetable garden and where a wave almost stripped me of my surfer’s bikini, there’s this church and its garden.

Picture this: red dirt roads, live chickens waiting to be bought and killed, mega semi-trucks in mini semi-highways, women in pano grilling some sort of meat by the street, myriad of disorganized taxi vans (that somehow ARE, in fact, organized), and then all of a sudden , a patch of green, ACTUAL green grass. I blinked. My synapses had obviously malfunctioned and I had started to see…green. I felt like asking the four “ws” and one “h”: where, what, why, when, HOW??

A church that had been constructed during colonial times with the perfect pink/peach coloring (you know what I’m talking about) stands erect as the maternal guardian of this dirty G-d forsaken town of Cacuaco. And its garden, has become for the community a symbol that is somehow respected. Did I mention there were FLOWERS in this garden?? It was truly a sight for pollutionized eyes. Angola just keeps surprising me. What a little lot of heaven.

Onto other news: I was offered a job at PubliVision, a media and advertising company here in Luanda, and I’ve accepted! The charge is “Executive Director” although it seems the work will most likely be manager of internal and external relations. The agency is young, craving dynamism, and working with the crème of the crème of Angolan brands. I start a week from today at which point, I will be killing myself working part-time for DW and part-time for PubliVision until my DW contract is over in September. Goody… So this means, dear friends, this little lady is staying in Angola for quite some more time. Visiting is now required.

PS. That’s me and a Mucua, a fruit. Yes, the mega rat-looking thing is a fruit. I made juice out of it.

Toy Soldiers

...or trucks. It’s official, I have become an art collector, patron of the art Angola has to offer, if you will (and I will).

Two weekends ago, I went to Porto Amboim. A little south from Luanda, we left early in the morning to try catching the fishermen coming in from sea. We just made it. A friend’s “lady” lives in this fantastically dilapidated port town which once was Angola’s jewel. Now, all we saw were huge empty warehouses, a fish factory with more rust than smell, and a disco “Leite” (Milk) which we had all to ourselves until about 11pm. Think the locals were staying away.

The weekend was filled with fresh grilled fish (bought 10kg worth!), sleeping under a jango (in a tent…with a mattress!), and a short exploratory trip to the waterfalls. Strangely enough, when we left the waterfalls, we all realized we hadn’t actually trekked to see them, but rather made friends with a little Angolan boy and his trucks.

He came around shyly, dragging his pile of tin along a stick with a string loop at the end of it (which helped to drag the trucks). He was sweet, black as soot with a white smile that sucked you in. I fell in love…and after half an hour of talking about his trucks, I decided it was time for me to invest in something completely useless and permanently beautiful.

The negotiations began. The boy, Toní, had never sold anything he created before. He was shocked when I told him I wanted to purchase it, but I explained to him why. Everything was in the “why.” He had made an art piece. He was an artist. The truck had unfathomable details – rearview mirrors, seats for four, wheels on an axel. Did I mention it was made out of tin? Hot dog cans, rubber from shoes (for wheels), metal wire from used electronics, and wooden sticks to hold the wheels together.

He was reticent about giving me a number, so we plopped a 200 kwanza bill on the table ($3) and asked again. After five minutes of hesitating (not knowing whether he should say 200, since he knew that’s what we had, or less, or more) he looked up, and in an inaudible murmur, whispered “200.” We all agreed it was a fair price. What would he do with the money? What was his favorite food? Pasta! Ok, you can eat pasta for a week. Or, he said, I can buy material to make more trucks.

I’m an art collector. My first purchase sits on my night table.

Pictures! http://picasaweb.google.com/naama.laufer/PortoAmbuim

Ding! Round II

You stare at your computer screen and think, “WHAT??” Yes, ladies and gents, I am back for another thrilling, exhilarating, gripping, rousing, breathtaking adventure in the beautiful Angola. I was gone for 6 weeks and feel that more roads have been built, more floors on buildings are going up, and more garbage trucks are roaming the city at the most random hours of the day. I call it improvement.

I’m back at Development Workshop for a consultancy that will end nicely right after the elections (September) with a focus on revamping Angonet (www.angonet.org). With that said, I just designed a new email signature, am organizing a workshop on PowerPoint presentations, and need to develop a national questionnaire to determine what development issues are the most in need of some exposure. Oh yeah, and on the side, I’ve started seeking out other fun consultancies. Lovin’ it.

As it happens in Angola, I’ve returned to find some old friends gone, new friends acquired, and the always-surprising white smiles against dark dark skin, red fiery earth, and a kitchen that for some reason is having some trouble staying put and “remodeled.” Think plaster falling from ceiling straight into delicious meat stew.

And so, I am back home with tons of delicious butterfly kisses. It’s winter season here which, gasp, means cooler nights and, tada, less mosquitoes (although the buggers still got me my first week here). I am loaded with a wok pan which I schlepped from NY, a couple lemon/pepper spice tins, a few African panos, my iPod dock, baby wipes, and 70lbs worth of clothes and toiletries (Ellin Lavar’s liquidmotion goes with me wherever I go).

I am so ready for round II.

Last Dip

Drove back from the beach yesterday, Palmeirinhas. The sand was interminable, the water a perfect temperature with just the right amount of waves. My last dip.

I feel like one of those wartime reporters who spent three months deep in the bush, dropped off in a country they’ve never visited before (probably didn’t even know where they were), given a pad of paper and a box of pencils, and just spewed out page after page of ramblings. My ramblings are a website, and so I present to you www.dwangola.org.

Three months in Angola were intense, and I return to you with a new sense of wonder (enter Aladdin theme song) and an EU passport that gives me a three-month stay in the US. At the moment, my dear fans, the world is truly my oyster and I’m not quite sure what the next step will be. Might start a blog there as well…

Here is to me signing off from the land of baobabs and mustard sunsets.

Community Work

Don’t go picturing Naomi Campbell in designer-wear strutting her 3-inch heels picking up trash in New York City. This was real community work as in 1980s Land Rover a la Indiana Jones (the one with seating for 8 – or 12 – in the back, two benches facing each other), jeans and Pumas, bag-full of bread and Cadbury for snacking, hole-ridden side roads, red dirt everywhere, and then out of nowhere a community jango sprouts.

The jango (see pic, a community’s meeting place) was where KixiCredito, DW’s microfinance offshoot, and PARCIL, DW’s program that promotes social infrastructure rehabilitation, were to meet with the village’s elders to discuss their livelihood.

Women on one side (nursing mothers outside), men on the other, me in one of the “privileged” seats (for a second I thought I had committed a horrible oops and should be sitting elsewhere – they assured me that no, I was to remain in the plastic chair) a group of about 30 villagers, most of whom didn’t speak Portuguese but one of the many local languages, gathered to set their community’s priorities. What was most important? Water? School reconstruction? Healthcare? These seem to be the plights of most everyone here in this wealthy country.

I was surprised that the session started with a prayer (in Portuguese). All stood, this rich, traditional group, to pray to a G-d that I’m not sure they even believed in. But when all were back in their seat, the women spoke. At first, it took Luis (PARCIL program manager) a couple of different approaches to get them engaged and trusting…and then the dam broke. There’s a school but no teachers, there’s land for a clinic, but no money to buy materials much less medicine, government promised water pumps, but none have been installed, and of course, there’s no electricity. So, what comes first?

What comes first??? What do you mean what comes first? Aren’t these all basic human needs? It’s incredible how these poor poor communities have to pick one among these, and yet, they do. Once they have water, they deal with education. Once they have teachers in their schools, they construct the clinic. Once the community is healthy, they get light…and so on. The great power that DW has been giving these communities for so many years is to depend on themselves to pull themselves out of poverty. No amount of international funding can match that.

Only quasi-white person in the group, this was one of my most fulfilling experiences here.


Hot off the press

My visa came through and my passport is back in its orange leather sleeve. I will be saying good bye to Angola on the 23rd of April…back in the US on time for my birthday. Bittersweet, I tell you.

Somehow, however, I (ahem, DW) will not have to pay ANY fine…shocking. I’ve been in the country for over the “allotted time” but the universe is working with me. Three months and a bit will be my total time (this time) here in Africa.

G-d's Kingdom

I crossed the Luanda border last weekend. Somewhat illegal, as I do not have my first visa extension quite yet (also hoping passport is not lost in the “system” but that’s another story), I was officially visiting another province – Malange.

The supposed 6-hour, 6-car trip (which somehow extended into ten hours) led us to the Quedas de Kalandula. One of the most spectacular sites I have ever seen, the waterfalls exploded with such perfect precision that I sat stunned and simply admired G-d’s kingdom. It was unbelievable. I regretted not knowing how to do yoga, because it just felt right to sit in lotus position and meditate. I did it anyway.

So, after grilling, dancing and singing, we all passed out at 10pm (pathetic, I know), to wake up at 4am (couldn’t sleep), wait until the sun was out at 6am, and take a dip in the freezing waters of the river that led to the falls. Fantastic…and freaking cold.

Late morning took us down to the bottom via a narrow, muddy, insect-(maybe cobra) filled, swamp-like, almost-vertical bush/forest path. A group of 8, almost all of us fell at least once, scratched up some part of our body, and/or got bitten. We loved it and returned to take another dip in the freezing waters. You say masochism, I say…peer pressure, no, really.

So, to wrap up the story, it started pouring, weather plummeted a few hundred degrees, we cooped up in our tents (hoping they wouldn’t be washed away) and had another night of grilling, dancing and singing. The 10-hour car trip back home was a cinch. I could really write a guide book for this country.

Kitchen update: Think the remaining tiles are not going to go up and we will forever have a bucket to catch the water below the sink. At least we have a bucket…

A key got stuck in our front door lock. No idea how it happened, but we currently have to go in through our kitchen door (didn’t even know we had a kitchen door!) and make sure the lock of our gate, the lock on the chain, and the lock on our kitchen door gate are all…locked (couldn’t think of another word here). Just hoping the sandwich guy doesn’t show up at 4am again…

Also realized I didn’t share my fishing adventures with you all…nor the TWO tuna I caught. So proud…so proud…Some pictures uploaded for you to share in my spoils of the sea. Will upload more as soon as internet cooperates.
http://picasaweb.google.com/home?tab=mq

If you were holding your breath in high anticipation of my return, breathe out…no idea yet.

Coke @ the Roque

You should never plan going to the Roque Santero too far in advance. The biggest open air market in Africa could potentially, maybe, perhaps, be a little intimidating, especially due to the raving reviews (read: “Don’t go to the Roque, it’s dangerous, you will find human heads on sticks”). So, with this in mind, the best was to just…go. I mean, I was here in Angola, how could I not?

Small glitch in my plans, however, was the absolutely-no-camera-allowed unwritten rule, which means, you only have my memory and these words to live through what I did…an absolute African anthropological experience. A few snapshots:

· Law of Attraction is in full effect. The energy you put out, is what you will receive. We were three (two guys and moi), all somewhat white in an ocean of beautiful black bodies, but we blended. We stopped to buy jinguba (peanuts), got some recipes from the vegetable ladies, tried negotiating for my panos, and danced among the piles of used clothes…ok, no one else was dancing, but we got some chuckles

· Picture of the day: an old lone “costurero” (tailor) at his sewing machine surrounded by nothing except burning trash and red dirt

· An entire section just for pots...piles and piles of them. One was big enough for me to sit in, comfortably.

· Women making steaming funge in huge pots among barefoot children, a stray dog or two, street vendors and a lot of dust

· Man frying jinguba with sand (“from our own beach down there”) for “a better taste”

· Meats…you could really see poverty in this section. Every table had just a few cuts (guts, stomach, liver), no hanging carcasses, flies galore

· Curious children everywhere, stuck to us like gum in hair

· I am now officially “gostosa,” “amorzinho”, “maezinha,” and “fofa.”

· Pano section: colors, colors, colors, colors…seemed like an oasis of vibrancy against a rather desolate and dry setting

· We were almost run over (often) by little carts that squeezed through the tight little aisles

· Almost stopped to watch a movie…in big army green tents that hosted wooden benches and a large TV from the 1980s. Just fantastic.

…and then, after almost three hours of walking among dirt, burnt trash, with arms loaded with panos and idiotic smiles on our faces, we drank the most incredible liquid I have ever tasted. Coca Cola. Straight from the can.

Quote of the week: “Quem não tem cão, caça com gatos.” (He who doesn’t have dogs, hunts with cats). Africa, the land of adaptation.

Angolan cholent of the week

A Brit, an American, an Angolan, and a multi-national mutt walk into a bar…ok, this time it was a restaurant, during lunchtime in Luanda. All in our 20s and 30s, the topic of discussion swiftly turned from weekend campsites on the beach to Lunda Norte. On the border with Zaire, the province hosts some of the country’s poorest, least educated, and most AIDS-affected communities. Just starting a program there is a challenge due to often-absent local administrators, lack of community organization (or interest to organize), and poor infrastructure. There always seems to be enough space and a lot of time to speak about this country…its highs, its lows, and its in betweens.

After two weekends of little sun (this weekend was my first encounter with the evil little bugs that hide in Angolan cuisine so I ignored outdoors), I have started losing my I-just-stepped-out-of-a-JLO-video look, and so we’re off camping once again…the coast is our oyster aka, haven’t decided where to go yet, but pictures to come.

Visa update: I still have not received the necessary papers indicating that my first 30-day extension has gone through which means no travel. And PS, I have started filing for my second extension. A little bummed, so Fabrice recommended I explore FIRST next time I’m in Angola. Yes, it’s getting to that time where I have begun thinking about crossing the pond again. By thinking I mean, once in a while I get flashes of winter in New York and have a moment of panic. Also, realized I lost (left) my phone in the 17-hour New York-Jo’burg South African Airways flight, so will be emailing you all for numbers soon…ugh, I loved that phone.

Favorite names of the week are:
Valdney, Vangrico, Mandavela, Chitanda…I mean, really. These are fantastic.

Kitchen Update: Almost, almost, almost there…but still missing the pipe that drains water and prevents my kitchen floor from flooding. Hmm…any engineers out there looking for work?

I made a belt out of twine today. It’s fantastic. Think I started a trend.

Deep Thoughts by Naama (and a few random ones)

When the light changes, Angola becomes a different watercolor all together.

- The soil is red in Angola. Rich in oxidized iron. Chemistry 101.

- Rainy season has started in Luanda…officially and tangibly. On Saturday, in one hour, the city flooded after a highly intimidating graying sky. Rain shoes - no matter what you wear, it’s not enough.

- Luanda carries my favorite sunscreen – Garnier’s Ambre Solaire, Clear SPF 20. Not yet FDA-approved in the US. I love this country.

- New Development Workshop homepage is almost up. Take one last look before I blow your minds http://dw.angonet.org/.

- My recent DW project obsession is ONDAKA – an adult literacy program that publishes a monthly bulletin compiled by local communities, primarily in the Huambo province, that acts as a platform for peaceful dialogue. There is a tremendous will in Angola to avoid conflict and educate younger generations on the importance of stability.

- I continue being a firm believer that women multitask better than men.
Angolan women: carry a bucket of water, or fish, or shoes, or mandioc, or bananas, or gasoline on their heads, a baby on their back, plastic bags on their arms, and rearrange their pano whenever necessary
Angolan men: just walk, with nothing…next to the women

- Went sailing this weekend for the first time in my life. My body looks like I fell down a flight of stairs…and then another. It was one of the most exhilarating things I’ve ever done (after climbing Masada at 4am)

Kitchen update: not done yet, but almost there…or so they say
Quote of the week: Mother to her son eating ice cream, “Is it ok? Not too cold?” Classic.

The office smells like the fresh bread I just bought at the bakery, and I have one month left in this beauty of a country.

Gastronomic Adventure

No culture is complete without food, and so, I bring you an A-through-whatever-food-names-I-remember guide to Angolan cuisine.

Arroz – not your mother’s rice; cooked with corn, jimboa (see below), peppers and whatever else is found at the market that day

Batata Doce – sweet potato but not the orange/red ones we have in the States that Maayan bakes in the oven; these are white, almost flaky, but incredibly sweet

Churrasco – grilled chicken...yah, that’s it

Coffee – yes, we all know what this is, but here coffee flows through veins so I figure I would include it for added effect

Farofa – coarse corn meal; mixed with feijão (see below)...would be fantastic to thicken any dish

Feijão em olio de palma – yellow beans in this palm oil sauce...a lot of bean eating here

Feijoada – adopted from Brazil...brown beans and pork, which means Naama no eat

Fish Calulu – a blend of dry fish and fresh fish; one of the only dishes I can’t quite swallow...a very strong unique taste

Funge milho – the STAPLE food in Angolan cuisine...kind of like mashed potatoes made with corn (think I mentioned it in my first blog entry); half a serving and not only are you done eating for the day but an all-afternoon nap is a must

Funge bom bo – similar to above, but made with mandioc...stickier, gooeyer…the perfect kid’s meal; more typical of Luanda than the rest of the country

Galinha em molho – wild chicken (as in, those chickens that cross the street without a care in the world and then freak out when a car almost runs them over) in a jimboa-base broth; much tastier than the normal “frango” (store-bought chicken…although I’m sure you can find the wild chickens is some stores as well)

Gambas – shrimp (but HUGE ones); Angolans are big on all shellfish here (being on the coast and all) **Interesting note: Currently lobsters are illegal to eat because it’s their egg-laying season…surprise, surprise, not everyone respects that around here

Jimboa – green leaf similar to spinach but lighter in taste and mixed with everything

Jinguba – peanuts; think they’re fried or grilled…quite crispy…eaten with everything

Mandioca – mandioc; eaten as a carb to accompany fish, meats or chicken…can be completely tasteless

Meat Calulu – same as fish calulu but with meat…you know where I stand on that

Peixe Grilhado – yum yum yum…grilled fish…FRESH fish always…a little bit of pepper, salt and lemon is all I need. I’m going to go into serious withdrawal in NY

Selection of grilled meats – pick and choose…they kill and grill everything including monkey

Weird note of the week: sun sets in the middle of the sky here…not on the horizon. In the last month, I’ve seen the sun set only once on the water.

Kitchen update: almost there…missing a few tiles and the tube that doesn’t drain the water straight to the floor.

More pix!
http://picasaweb.google.com/naama.laufer/Angola250208

Bread & Cheese

Perspective. Overused word in the US, rather adequately perfect here. Let me explain.

Yesterday I went home to take my little afternoon nap (yes, peeps, I am LOVING my naps…not sure how that is going to fare back in NYC) and, to maximize my sleep, and minimize my hunger, I decided to make two cheese sandwiches. One, I gobbled up before my nap, the other I cautiously wrapped up in a napkin to eat on my way back to the office. The moment I was cautiously wrapping my second sanduitz (pronounced a la Greek), I just knew I wouldn’t be finishing it.

I took two bites as I pranced down my staircase and the moment I stepped out onto the street I saw them. Three street children who were on a search and eat mission. I have never seen the desperation of hunger so up close and personal. When one of them spied me and my little bundle, he didn’t even look into my eyes, his gaze was fixed on my sandwich. Not sure when he last ate. He got the sandwich. I should’ve made more for them...why are children starving in this world? There are enough resources for us all.

Wow, bread and cheese…that got me thinking of Thai food and how much I love the culinary diversity that is NY.

News of the week: Kitchen is being remodeled...as in, tiles are in, sink is almost working and cockroaches are no longer ruling the land.

per·spec·tive (pər spek′tiv). I love Angola.

Reality Check

I’m in Africa. As in, I am REALLY in Africa. I have never lived in a country like Angola in my life. Yes, Ecuador and Brazil were a good prep course, but nothing compares to the realities of Africa.

A brief history of Angola in two sentences (ok, three).
Angola is an oil- and diamond-rich country in southern Africa that was colonized by the Portuguese. Fast forward a few decades, Portugal leaves the colony and so begins almost 3 decades of conflict. Fast forward a little more to 2002 and war ends. (for more detailed info, check out wikipedia.org)

So where are we now? Angola is about to explode in the international arena. Construction companies are vying for land (and there’s still a lot of it), there are opportunities for anyone who is in banking, engineering, finance, mining, marketing, entrepreneurship…you name it. So that’s the business side.

On the people front, NGOs and the government are diligently working together to decentralize the country, encourage participative planning in local communities, and continue building and rehabilitating schools, clinics, entire neighborhoods (a little bit of rain can destroy tens of houses…PS, rainy season here in Luanda has brought on exactly one hour of rain in the last month. Freakin’ global warming.)

And so, I’ve picked the perfect place to observe Angola from…Development Workshop works directly with both the government and the people (did I mention they are officially an Angolan NGO?) implementing projects across all 18 provinces…am hoping to travel to Huambo province soon to see the DW projects there…heard things are very different there…quiet nights, starry skies…

My new favorite thing about Angolans is every time I say good morning, good afternoon or good night, they respond with “obrigado” (thank you). I just love their warmth.

News of the week: Work has begun on remodeling my kitchen…and street children literally moved a car I was in out of a parking spot. Fantastic.

Prada Beauty in Angola

For all of you out there wondering, my skin looks great. Prada Beauty lives strong in Africa. There has GOT to be a short comedy there somewhere…

News of the week: my shower head has been replaced so no more bucket “showers.” I had become quite attached to that blue bucket…it had become somewhat of a morning, noon and night ritual. Yes, it’s that hot here.

I am progressing wonderfully with the website redesign/edit for Development Workshop. I couldn’t have embarked on a better project to understand the plights of this country and the steps that this organization has taken in the last 25 years to make amends. There is an INCREDIBLE amount of work, thought, and care that has gone into the hundreds of projects that DW has undertaken…now it’s just a matter of finding every file, every image, and every video and plopping them into the world wide web (that’s “www” for those who just did a double take).

My New York killer instincts are being softened by the African culture, but am still a bit “particular” (ahem, obsessive) about scheduling meetings…many are shocked when I actually ask them a time that would be best for them…and then, to top it off, show up on time. It’s great.

Weekly highlights:
- Carnaval kept me up until 6:30am...I think I lost 12 kilos
- I did not get bitten by flesh-eating flies camping at the beach (although one of the girls in the group ended up in the hospital with a swollen leg. They told her it was tse tse and then that it wasn't. wonderful.)
- I have had enough Portuguese wine to last me a lifetime...I've officially banned it from my diet and have switched to the cheaper bottles of yummy French wine
- my half-black self is slowly coming out via a fantastic tan (i am no longer looking like a plump little tomato)
- I've made friends with every guard from home to work...there is one every 5 meters...I'm quite popular
- no crazy sandwich man this week

David told me the Giants won the Superbowl, the housing market is in shambles, and it hit 65F (18.33333C) yesterday (during WINTER…on the EAST COAST!). Unreal. The US is missing me…but at least my face is dewy and uber smooth.

The good and the quirky. Welcome to Angola!

I have landed in Angola. After two days of travel (including the ultimate baby-crying-in-airplane-for-15-hours experience), a stint in Jo'burg (where I definitely overpaid the guy helping me with my suitcases) and a diet composed of challah and ginger tea, I landed in the tropics. The moment tiny droplets of sweat started forming on my nose, I was happy…and I haven't stopped being happy since.

As many of you know, I am volunteering/consulting/interning for Development Workshop, an incredibly dynamic non profit that has been in Angola since 1981…My initial charge has been to update the website ("actualizar o website") and develop informational pamphlets ("panfletos") for the world to see…all my photoshop and editing experience is coming into exquisite use…and yes, I am already working in Portuguese. Half the time I feel like I'm speaking some version of Spanish-French-Italian…it's awesome. More on work front soon.

And so, without further adieu, here are some highlights (trying to keep it short, so I can keep my fan base going strong for the next three months):

· I have a chain and lock on my door. Yes. And some random guy rang the doorbell at 4:30am the other day looking for a steak sandwich. I told him we don't start serving until 10am. Thank G-d for locks.

· Our family friend, Cara, lives here in Luanda which means: instant social life, fantastic beaches, incredible dinners with wine (Portuguese, alas, but still…), and tons of girl talk

· Luanda Day was on Friday, but the whole city did not find out whether it was going to be a holiday or not until Thursday night.

· People here have the most beautiful smiles, the capacity to carry A LOT of weight on their heads, and a booming grayish market money exchange operation

· Grapes cost $50 per kilo…kiwis are close

· I have tasted some of the most delicious food…"funge" (corn-based similar to mashed potatoes), "gallinha" (wild/local chicken), "jimboa" (green, spinach-like yumminess), and of course, a ridiculous amount of mango juice

· The long tunics and pants I wear day in day out are last season here…women look at me like I have no sense of style. Moi?? I am fast becoming the proud owner of many "panos" (pareos)…

Skype is becoming my closest friend…after gmail. Hint hint hint.

P.S. Look at my pictures by clicking on this link: http://picasaweb.google.com/naama.laufer/Angola102