It’s a quiet Sunday afternoon in Luanda and I’m sitting in my living room, sipping on some green tea, post-brunch, listening to Sade and feeling fine.  This past week has been one hell of a rollercoaster with the highest of highs and lowest of lows.  Visitors, apartment issues, work craziness, beautiful beach lodges, pleasant dinners and conversations - I had it all this week.

One of my best friends from the Kennedy School decided to add some spice to his already spicy life by spending his holiday in Angola, and boy was I excited to have my first guest coming for  visit.  I was so excited for his arrival that I could barely sleep on last Friday night.  He was due to arrive on Saturday at 4:20AM on the only weekly British Airways flight from London, so I arranged for our driver to pick me up at 4:45AM to fetch him.  Like clockwork, I showed up at the airport and 10 minutes later,  John emerges from the Arrivals door.  He followed my instructions to a tee, fighting his way onto the 1st bus from the plane to the terminal, then going directly to the health officer for his Yellow Fever vaccine check.  He cruised out of there like a Luanda veteran.  The unlucky thing was that I didn’t inform Nadia of the same procedure and so we waited for about 1 hour for her to emerge.  Nadia is the reproductive health commodities security (RHCS) consultant who worked with our partners at the department of public health last week.  Anyway, it was not a big deal, and we were on our way to my apartment before 6am.  I wasn’t sure if John was still have asleep or whether the scene was too much for him, but he clearly was surprised with where I lived.  We got dropped off right in front of my apartment building, where the sidewalk is all broken up, with a mound of trash and a stench from the open sewer pipes.  I think he also noticed a urine smell as we came up the stairs of the buidling.  But, as soon as we entered my flat, he entered into my haven, my little world of clean, and peace and normalcy among the chaos of Luanda.

We managed enough time for a petit almoço and a quick packing job before Kelse, my good Angolan friend came to pick us up for our ride to Rio Longa Lodge.  We made great time and by 10:30am, we were on a boat on the Rio Longa sipping Carlsberg beers on the way to the Lodge at the mouth of the river.  John was so happy to be on the way to paradise, after an uneventful 3 hours’ ride, jamming to karaoke tunes on the iPod.  Arbol, the tranquil boat driver from Namibia slowed the boat down twice to show us crocodiles in the distance.  Yes!!  We were definitely away from Luanda.  When we arrived, we were greeted on the lodge terrace by Gramma Christine, complete with her flowery apron.  She didn’t ask our names or reservation number, but sent us straight to cabin #1 to freshen up before the full calendar of the day… and the cabin was simple and delightful.  The shower was a hit, with the overhead showerhead that felt like a rainforest rain (or I imagine such a thing to be).  The beds, complete with wistful ribbony mosquito nets were the most comfortable in I’ve slept on in Angola, and the large candles gave the perfect rustic touch.  John was all too excited to commit to a shoe-free weekend and promptly kicked his flip-flops off into the corner where they stayed for the duration.

We made our way back to the main lodge and eagerly jumped into one of the waiting kayaks for the 2 minute paddle across the river to the beach.  It was just lovely.  We walked a ways and then turned around and sat on the lounge chairs facing the crashing waves, sharing a Heineken kindly spared by some other visitors to the Lodge.  At around 1pm, we heard Gramma Christine’s meal bell ring and we promptly paddled back over and feasted on a wonderful buffet lunch.  It was to be the first of many fantastic meals prepared with love by Gramma.  Paul a rugged South African who’s been in Angola for 14 years welcomed us to his table which he was sharing with Stion and Veronica, two of his colleagues in town for some business.  Our lunch meal turned into a cool 4 hour conversation late into the afternoon, and after a few bottles of wine, several beers and an iced drink of Amarula, it was time for the next activity on the agenda - the afternoon nap.  We paddled back to the beachside and plopped down on the chaise lounges one more time and watched the gorgeous sun set over the western horizon.  [SIDEBAR:  I think that no matter where I am in the world, my most favorite thing to to do is to watch the sunset.  I am a West Coast girl at heart - in the US, Africa, whereever... so that could be a clue to where I am going next...]

We went back for a quick shower and freshen up before we were summoned for dinner.  And what as beautiful dinner it was.  Firstly, the dining room was completely lit up with candles - large and small ones, on the table and hanging from the ceiling, skinny candlesticks and thick ones.  It was so elegant and simple at the same time.  We feasted and finished yet another bottle of wine before I was practically falling asleep at the table.  Poor John, still running on adrenaline wanted to stay up and chat well into the night, but I just couldn’t keep my eyes open and crashed out into a deep, complete slumber.

The next two days were filled with more of the same - Gorgeous meals, bottles of wine, long walks on the beach with great conversation, naps, and I added early morning meditation and yogas sessions, and even managed a run on the beach.  One afternoon, Arbol treated us to a boat tour along the river to the mouth opening into the ocean.  It was simply gorgeous and so peaceful.  The many pictures I took of the root trees along the river shores were taken during our mini tour.

I could see that John was visibly decompressing and melting into the beach landscape and getting farther away from the hustle and bustle of his London life.  For my part, it was also my decompression time from Luanda life. He seemed so impressed by the landscape and the ease of life.  I had to warn him that the smoothness of his entrance into Angola is a rarity and should not set his expectations for the rest of his stay….And, this reality hit him when we were sadly delivered back to civilization by Arbol and the boat and our ride back to Luanda was not there when we arrived.   Just before we had left the lodge, Gramma told us that Paul (from the first day) had called her to tell her that our ride would be a little bit late and to not go back on the boat until 3:30p.  We thought this odd, but somehow comforting.  John asked me whether I thought the ride would come and I sensed the beginning of what would be a bit of a challenging time for him.  One of the hardest lessons that I’ve learned in Angola is that you do your best to plan, and either things happen or they don’t.  And when they don’t then you make new plans, but until that happens when you must make other decisions, there is no use worrying, anticipating, or questioning.  Kelse finally showed up, but in someone else’s car.

We sped back to Luanda while Kelse explained to us that his own car broke down on his way back from dropping us off at Rio Longa (and boy did I feel bad).  When he realized that his car wouldn’t be ready to come and pick us up, he called Paul hoping to borrow his car, not knowing that Paul had even been in Rio Longa or that he had met us.  So, that’s how it happened that Paul called us and Kelse came to fetch us in Paul’s car.  By the time we made it back to Luanda, it was dark and of course we were greeted by the usual trials and tribulations of my life - no water, no electricity and a still-busted generator.  So, we changed, and headed across the street for a drink at the Tropico Hotel.  Kelse came by for us and we met up with Paul and another friend, Denis for a light supper and tough conversation about the state of Angola today.  I was surprised at my strong reaction to Kelse and Denis when I asked them the following question:   what do you as Angolans think of the presence of the UN in your country?  I asked because certainly the government seems quite ambivalent, or worse could care less whether we were here or not… Both Kelse and Denis said that it didn’t matter to them, that we should rather be asking the people in the rural areas (i.e. the poor people).  I almost lost it.  I said - that’s exactly the problem.  When Angolans don’t identify with the poor of the country and give a damn about whether they are being helped or not.  Why didn’t he say we are glad that someone is here to help the poor…. nope.  Anyway, we also learned that night that Paul is one of those people that you want to know.  He seems to know everyone and also how to get things done here in a town where things are nearly impossible to get done.

By the time we got back to the apartment, the power had come back on, but the water was a trickle.  When my head finally hit the pillow, I realized just how much it would take to have company in this crazy place.  BUT - it was and will always be so worth it.

Tuesday morning, I scurried out to the office and left John to his own devices.  At work, we began daily meetings for the agenda of our partners planning workshop next week.  My job boils down to capacity-building.  There is a strong temptation to do all the work myself, but then when I leave this place, there will not be much to show for my efforts.  Therefore, as much patience as I will need, the best strategy will be to share what I’ve learned with my colleagues here in Angola.

I had to deal with the notice that I got from some police-like authority who had slapped me with some sort of warning for the loud water pump.  We called the owner of the apt to deal with the issue.  And, of course, there were the usual things to deal - little things like work!  Meanwhile, John was busy trying to arrange for a ride to the next beach that we were going to EARLY.  One day of Luanda seemed ample for him, and he tried to arrange for a taxi service with the hotel.  He felt quite accomplished by the end of Tuesday when he had worked out a ride on Wednesday to take him to Praia Sangano 2 days early.  We met up with Iain and JB, both working for UNICEF, for a nice dinner at a little local restaurant a 3 minute walk from my apartment.  Walking is not advisable at night and I wouldn’t do it on my own, but it was fine enough with John.  We had a lovely conversation and John got a flavor for the UN life in the field, which is distinct from life at the HQ offices of New York, Geneva, the Hague, etc.  JB had been in and thrives on the emergency, conflict posts, like Burma, Afghanistan, Somalia, Iraq, etc…  And somehow, we is still smiling.

The next day, John was very excited to be going to the beach early, and so I left him in good spirits that morning.  At work that day, I had a great session with my Portuguese teacher, where we had a long discussion about the state of Angola and the challenges that it faces as it attempts to develop and recover from 30 years of war.  My teacher said that there are many characteristics of the Angolan culture that make development difficult and challenging, partly due to the war stance, which is still a part of the collective mentality,  and also a strong adherence to hierarchical structure mainly predicated on economic relationships.  In this environment, factors such as trust, confidence, honesty, integrity, which are keys to development are nearly impossible to cultivate.

Anyway, John was due to drop off my house keys at 2pm on his way out of town.  When it turned 4pm and he hadn’t yet shown up, I started to worry.  Finally, he phoned me and, in a strained voice which seemed barely under control, he asked me to get to the Tropico as soon as I could.  I showed up just after 5pm and joined him for a quick drink.  He looked like he was going to kill someone.  Poor John had been ditched by the taxi driver who decided that it was too late to take him to the beach after showing up 2 hours late.  I kicked into action and we came back to the apartment where he had a shower.  In the middle of it, the water stopped and I heard John practically lose his marbles.  I ran outside to turn on the water pump and the water flowed once again.  When John was finished he said that he had never been so happy to be taking a cold shower in his life….ahhhh, the little lessons of Luanda…

We headed back to the hotel where we were set to meet the driver and take the car for a night out.  We met up with Nadia, the consultant for a chinese food dinner at Asia.  It was a good meal and an even better conversation about international development, aid, the inherently prescriptive nature of the work, the remnants of a colonialist perspective, and the challenges of inciting the political will necessary to make change in countries like Angola.  One thing we all agreed on was the Angola and Luanda in particular, is on of the most difficult places to work IN THE WORLD.  Thanks, thanks for confirming that  :).

Once again, we ended up at the apartment totally spent emotionally, physically, psychologically.  But it would be just one more day until we were headed back to the beach  Yipee!!!  On Thursday, Paul did all he could to arrange for a ride for John to the beach, and after all the arrangements were made, in the end we realized that I would be heading down in a car early Friday morning so there was not too big of a reason to leave now.  So, John made a day of it.  We had lunch at this very European cafe called Café Arabica, which was lovely and busy and felt like a normal place to be.  We took a walk along the Marginal to the mobile phone shop to deal with  my phone, then back to my office where I had a few more hours of work to take care of.  John read, checked emails and even got a little shut eye.  We finally took the car and ran one errand to buy an ironing board at InterMarket.  When we got back to the car, I had a mini panic because somehow the car would not start.  I called our driver and they came to our rescue.  It turned out that I hadn’t disengaged the alarm fully hence the non-starting car.  We were finally on our way to dinner at the Fortaleza, which was set in a lovely courtyard.  The food was so-so but it was just so nice to sit, with a breeze, a bear and a steak.  We were back to the apartment before 10pm, eager to pack and rest up for our early 6am departure.

Friday morning, we must have both been excited to get a move on because neither one of us could sleep too well.  We were packed and in the car John with coffee and me with tea in hand for the ride to the beach.  We stopped off to pick up Lone, the Chief of Communications for UNICEF and Linda in the HIV&AIDS group and we were on our way.  It was the perfect time to leave…not a lot of traffic and just a general sense of tranquility in the air.  I have so far failed to mention that the UN system had Friday as a holiday in honor of Eid, the end of the Ramadan period for the Muslims.  So, we were celebrating it by going to the beach!  The Nissan Maxima which I was driving got us to the beach and eating breakfast under the cabana before 8:30am!  I was lovely and immediately relaxing.  And, no one was more relieved and happy to be there than John.  We did more of that same beach routine from the weekend before - nap, read, walk, eat and do it again.  The scene here was a bit different - more touristy and potentially crowded, but it never really filled up.  At the left end of the beach is a relatively sizable fishing village full of little kids running around.  I think if one has to be poor, the best life is that in a fishing village along the beach.  If only we could relocate the 3 million extra people crammed into Luanda to the beaches of Angola, this would be a much happier country….  Kim and Asa came to join us in the afternoon and we sat for yet another extended meal with lots of laughs and good conversation.

At dusk, we walked along the beach and watched the sun fade into the sky at exactly 6pm.  I was sitting at the spot which would become my meditation rock everytime I come back to Sangano.  Happy hour with iced Amarula and beers was followed by a light dinner and an early bed time.  Saturday morning, I was greeted by a sickly John whose stomach finally realized he was in Angola.  But he was a trooper and we went out to our cabana for another beachside breakfast.  Some more napping, swimming and even a bit of work was had before we hit the road back to Luanda.  We made it in good time, and headed for Baia, one of the nicer restaurant/bars in Luanda.  Nadia joined us as did Kelse and we ate up two good pizzas (one with bananas!!! it was really yumm!!) and then headed to the airport, since Nadia and John were also on the same flight going home.  We got them to the airport in plenty of time and we sat for one last drink at the airport bar.  At 10:30p, we said our goodbyes and they entered into the immigration lines as Kelse and I exited the airport.  We came back to my apartment where I changed and got ready for a night of dancing.  I felt the need to let it loose and had a great time at a place called Miami Beach on the Ilha.  I fought the tiredness and managed to stay out until just before 3pm.  It was a good night and a good rest.  And today has been a nice, quiet Sunday.  In a while I will head out for a movie and some shopping at Belas.

So, that’s been the crazy rollercoaster week.  So much in such a little amount of time.  I think that this will define my time here.  I can’t believe that I’m almost 1/3 of the way through!

Beijos!
Celina

I’ve just finished my third day of the workshop for all new HIV/AIDS Specialists hired by UNFPA throughout Africa in the last few months. And, let me say, I am so happy to be here for so many reasons. Cape Town, orientation, new colleagues, new family, new mentors, shopping!, lightness, eats, rest.

Cape Town
It is simply beautiful here. The scenery is very much like Hawaii or Southern California, with dramatic mountain ridges along beaches and sea cliffs. The vibe is relaxed, chilled out, beachy. The weather, in this early spring season, is cool but sunny, topped with lovely blue skies dotted with puffy while clouds. The people could be from the suburbs of LA - going about their daily lives, driving on gorgeous freeways, shopping in phat malls, eating Kentucky Fried Chicken or sushi, listening to cover songs while having the grilled seafood platter at wharf. It’s hard to believe that I’m in Africa, except that it’s South Africa, with its own, special flavor: introduce the racial dynamics of this place - post-apartheid. So, think of it as Honolulu but with its harsh issues. I’m certainly coming back, and even had fleeting fantasies of buying a place here. So, let’s see what happens.

Orientation
This is that I’ve been waiting for - someone to tell me what I’m supposed to be doing in Luanda. It’s as if the gray clouds have parted, letting the sun shine down on me. The past three days have provided the context for the challenges of working on AIDS in Angola. Hearing about the experiences of my colleagues in other African countries has lightened my load, and relieved the pressure of feeling like I’m doing this work on my own. I know now why I’m here, what my mandate is, what is and isn’t among my responsibilities. This clarity has given me a fresh, clean perspective and provided me with a path forward. I feel like I’m starting again in Angola.

New Colleagues
This is not to say that I don’t have wonderful colleagues in Angola. BUT now, to be able to draw upon the expertise, support, and feedback from more than 50 peers around the Continent, has given me a greater appreciation for the ways in which I can draw on others to get the job done. And, by the way, how diverse is Africa! From my friend from Ethiopia to my Malian friend working in Senegal, to my Nigerian friend covering Malawi, there is a wealth of knowledge, experiences and insight that I can draw on as a newcomer to Africa. And, I’ve made quick friends with Gary, an American-Swede who is covering Botswana. We’ve shared the challenges of being new to this organization and to the work.

New Family
What a blessing indeed! My dear friends Marcelle and Dominic, currently at Columbia University, are Cape Townians, and they graciously shared their family with me. So, Mama and Papa Abrahams took me in to their warm home after waiting for my flight to land three hours after I was due. Nonetheless, they waited and welcomed me with open arms and took care of me like they would a member of the family. And, boy did I soak it up! (Thanks Marcelle!) They indulged me, taking me shopping for bed linens, kitchen items, and other things. What a blessing, not just for this week, but now, I will have a certain piece of mind when I return to Angola, knowing that I have a new family 6 hours’ away. Saturday night, we’re going to a dance! Should be good times…

New Mentors
Another blessing! Agathe is a dynamic, funny, humble woman from Togo, who is the head of the Johannesburg UNFPA Regional Office. She’s a fantastic woman, leader, mentor, and role model in the world of the UN. Steve is an American who heads up the UNFPA HIV/AIDS unit out of NYC. He’s savvy, knowledgeable, respectful, and strategic. He’s also a fantastic soul.

But Back to Me…
Just to say here that I’ve also managed to pamper myself a little bit. Certainly, I enjoyed my shopping, but also indulged myself with a massage in my hotel room the other night (knocked me out!), ate KFC and sushi (not on the same night…), take desert every time (yummy!), and sleeping well.

Back to Luanda on Sunday…in the meantime, I will enjoy the rest of the days here and soak it all up! Much love, Celina

Wow, it’s been a long while since I’ve reported about the latest happenings in my life. Setting aside the fact that I enjoyed a brief visit with family and friends in New York for the first week of August, I’ve been immersed in the real transition to life in Luanda. It feels different this time - more daunting, intimidating, scary, and heavy. It’s all very exciting as well, but so many thing have been spinning around in my head about what my life is all about. I had a good conversation while I was back in New York about the location of my life - is my life here in Luanda? there in New York? back home in California? I suppose that life is where I am, in both the physical and psychic sense. Right now, that means everywhere and nowhere, and here and there.

But, that’s way too heavy for a Sunday afternoon. My travels to New York took me through Johannesburg, which is apparently the most dangerous city in the world. If this is true, then looks are truly deceiving because I felt like I was in LA, as my driver took us on a mini city tour on the beautiful freeways, by large mall complexes and world-class hotels. There were loads of fun little experiences in Joburg, from the smooth operator driver, to the blond, blue-eyed massuese, to the busted hair dryer…but that feels so long ago now.

I arrived in Luanda and got in line with the other Filipinos (seriously, there were like 60 or so). No one was paying any attention to the signs over the different immigration queues, so the Diplomatica queue was just as long all the others. No problem. Anyway, it gave me a chance to make a proper dent into the new book that a few folks had recommended that I pick up in NY called The Invisible Cure by Helen Epstein, about AIDS in Africa. I am desperate for another perspective on having an impact on the epidemic here. One worry is that my time here will just be as a part of this multi-billion dollar AIDS industry that has thus far, failed at any significant impacts on the prevention of further infections. Yes, on the treatment side, things seems to be ramping up nicely, but from my myopic public health/prevention lens, once someone needs treatment, we have failed.

But let me get back to the more interesting details of daily life in Luanda. Of course, once I touched back down this second time, I immediately became laser-focused on finding a place to live, as I knew my clock was ticking on the flat I was on the Marginal. I kicked it into high gear and saw at least one flat per day, the majority of which were either ridiculously expensive ($10,000/month), or not fit for human occupancy (seriously) or dark as a batcave. Now, let me tell you something about Angola. For some reason which I have yet to fully understand, they don’t particularly have a need/preference for light. I have walked into many an office with HUGE windows which are covered up by curtains or blinds. Apartments often have lightless rooms. And, I have received numerous comments that my office is “way too bright.” OMG—if there’s one thing that I absolutely LOVE about my office, it’s this. Now, granted, I have yet to experience the intense heat which has been promised to be coming our way come December, which may have to something to do with this preference, but I’ll get back to you on this in a few months’ time. But I digress.

The happy end to my house-hunting story is that I actually found a very nice apartment which has been fully refurbished, is not such a bad walkup (4th floor), has some outdoor space, and it right across the street from one of the best hotels in town with a good gym, so you’ll know where I’ll be on the school nights… I had some tense drama last week when the owner threatened to give the place to someone else because the cash advance had yet come through. But then at the 11th hour, her husband, who is an Angolan diplomat in Moscow, told her that he’d rather have a UN person living there rather than an oil guy…SO, he was my angel that day. Oh, wait, let me tell you about this craziness. Because of the damn oil companies here with deep pockets, they’ve upped the stakes by paying AT LEAST one year rent in advance, which, in my case comes to a whopping $66K for me! Insanity. This government’s got to put some controls on the economy…but that’s for another day.

So, now, I’m waiting for the UN bureaucracy to do it’s thing and spit out some wads of cash.

Coming back to Luanda also brought me into the tide of one particular expat social scene. It’s a crowd of about 30 people, in their early 30s, seeking good times, all here for a short time, and all full of energy. With them, I’m either at one of the many beaches within 1-2 hours’ drive at the weekend, or at someone’s house for a potluck dinner (the last was Mexican and oh my god, it was good to eat a soft taco and some guac). One of the best events of the past weeks was last weekend’s camping trip where the River Kwanzaa meets the ocean - called Barra da Kwanzaa. This isthmus is little more than a sandbar with the tranquil river on the right side, and the pounding surf on the left. At its tip, the two water flows meet, as if they are dancing to the rhythm of the earth. And it was at this point that I had a glorious Sunday morning time with myself. I woke up at 6:30 to a deserted camp ground only a few hours after the flames were smothered, as evidenced by the smoldering log, strewn can and bottles, and knocked over camping chairs. The quiet was defined by the absence of activity and the alcohol-induced comas occupying the 15 or so tents spaced out on the moon-like landscape. I was all too happy for the calm and quickly got myself ready for a few good hours of solitude.

With brushed teeth and iPod plugged in, I took the walk from the campsite to the end, enjoying the company of a few fishermen making an earnest attempt at an early morning catch. I plopped myself down where I almost felt like I was in the water but far enough so I wouldn’t get swept away (I had learned my lesson the day before when I innocently waded in at the tip and almost washed away along with the rolling pebbles!). I sat for some meditation to a medley of mantra, breathing, mala bead counting, and some music. 1.5 hours later, I felt an overwhelming sense of joy and peace inside. I can’t explain it other than to say - my eyes were welling up with tears of happiness. I had found a place where my life all made sense to me. Even the way I meditated, to some chants, to the Dalai Lama, and even to Coldplay was by my design and I felt such a sense of satisfaction. Afterwards, I did some yoga to release the closed spots of my body and let the joy flow. OK, now for those of you non-meditating, non-yogis, this may sound all crunchy and new-agie, but I can tell you that here, I’ll take all of that stuff I can get just to balance out the craziness.

So, this week, the name of the game has been patience. Patience with the UN, enduring the little storage closet of a bedroom I am in, waiting on doing proper groceries for the big move-in, and waiting on kicking in to a routine of tea and fruits for breakfast. Despite the madness, this week has also had its highlights - the discovery of the TAP (the Portuguese airline) website, which has daily flights out of Luanda (thank god), a great chinese restaurant right on the water with a great (misleading ) view of Luanda, getting back into a daily yoga routine, and finding my hit in volleyball (YIPEE!). On Sunday, after a great morning of yoga, I got my things ready for the move, and went to Bela Shopping Mall - for some good ol’ American-style air-conditioning fun - window shopping, people-watching, some sushi (never thought I’d eat it in Angola, but it wasn’t half bad, and I found out that I REALLY love that stuff), a movie (The Devil Wears Prada, which I hadn’t seen before and quite enjoyed. My longing for NYC took my by surprise. And, I saw both of my old office buildings and the bus I used to take…) and some groceries.

Yesterday was a bad day for various reasons, not the least of which I still haven’t gotten approval for my housing cash advance - it was Labor Day in the States, and the approval needs to come from NY HQ - but it was made better by a dyno-mite aubergine quiche and apple tarte which we slaved over at Kasia’s house. Thank god.

So, another week, another set of challenges and highlights.

Stay tuned - sorry for the remarkable absence, and bon semana!!! xxxC

Bom dia, as they say in Luanda (except that it’s pronounced ‘bon’ - go figure).  This is going to be a short one as 1) I’m off to the beach this morning 2) we have no electricity yet again, and I haven’t yet mastered the generator 3) I’m a bit rough this morning after a fun evening.

This week’s been full of ups (mostly) and downs (a few scattered about).  It started on the high note of a lovely day at the beach and being outside of the city followed by some excellent food shopping.  Then, on Monday I had an extraordinary professional experience when my colleague Paulo and I went to the opening of a weeklong workshop of the National Network of people living with HIV/AIDS.  And, it was amazing.  Each on of the 30-40 participants stood up and introduced themselves, including their HIV status.  Now, what was striking was how strong and assured their voices were, despite their circumstances.  The memory of one special woman is permanently etched on my brain.  She stood up, all 5 feet of her, waddled up the front of the room, beautiful pregnant belly and all, and proceeded in Portuguese (but here’s my translation): My name is Fiona, I’m single, pregnant, have a child with HIV, and I have HIV.  That could have been the end of her presentation, but she later went on to describe the state of HIV/AIDS services in her province and the access gaps.  There was no sign of wallowing, self pity or shame.  She was grabbing life by the balls and making this place a little bit better for OTHERS.  Incredible.  The energy in the room was the most positive I have felt since being in Luanda.  It’s days like this that remind me why I love what I do.

Afterwards, Paulo and I were famished so we made a pit stop at the ShopRite where I had been just the day before.  We end up having a lunch of roasted chicken and fries dumped into a paper bag ghetto style, and paid only $2.25 each.  It was my first bargain meal in Angola.

Ok, that’s all for now, but TBC!  It’s becoming a ritual (that’s if 2 times makes a ritual), going to the beach on Sundays.  Last week, we went to lovely Campo Ledo - a long stretch of tranquil coastline.  Today, Carolyn and I are going to venture out the another isthmus called Mussulo, where it’s a bit more resorty and close.  I will report back a manhan on how it went.

Bom domingo!!  xxCelina

On a mission to get out of Luanda…

Saturday was wonderful, but it was still a day spent in the city of Luanda, and after 3 weeks of patience and tolerance, I needed to escape, somehow. So, I called Kasia and Ian, hoping to squeeze into their car headed to some surfers’ beach about 2 hours south of town. I NEEDED to be in that car. So, when they texted back to be ready for a 9a pick up, I was all packed and sitting excitedly at 8:45! As most things move here, they arrived at 10a and I cheerfully wedge myself next to the surfboard in the back seat. You would have thought I had just been let out of prison the way I was gawking at each new scene.

Finally! New Vistas!!!

Just on the other side of the Fortaleza, we encountered a slum area literally and precariously built on a hillside. One can imagine that in a heavy rain, the mound, along with the shacks and the people inside, would just come tumbling down. And, in fact this is just what happened a few months back. Normally, about 3-5 houses come down each year. This time about 50 houses did. And yet, the next row of houses stands at the edge, like obedient soldiers waiting to go to the frontlines of battle. (Is this another question of what one perceives to be under their control?)

A few more miles into the ’suburbs’ and we happen upon these Truman Show-like scenes - barbed wired communities that look perfect - like Desperate Housewives. And, I’m told that they are compounds for employees of large companies - mostly oil. Hmmmm… Then in Belfica, we find the artisan’s market, which I am eager to explore (once I have a home). I’m told that Sunday afternoon, at the end of the weekend is the best time to go and shop for bargains. I’m ready!!

Soon, we break free from the stop and start of city life and trade it in for the wide expanses of nature. Ahhhh - I felt like I could breath again. It was a wonderful feeling, and one that made me decide that I NEED a car that can explore outside of the city (and dodge the absurd potholes in the city). This, I am determined, will be a weekly routine, to get out of Luanda. Now, for those of you with the safety question on the brain, I can assure you that this road is safe (as in it’s in relatively good condition, there are no landmines in the area, and no bandits). Apparently, sometimes the police erect checkpoints but I have yet to be stopped for anything here, although….I will be glad to have something called a Carta Diplomatica in my hands, which apparently gets one out of jams, if ever…

Feelin’ Groovy…

We ride along and I’m getting the weekend sensations that I’ve become accustomed to since the days of climbing in California - the feeling of freedom on the road, of simple scenes, of natural adventure. The beaches of the coastline begin to show themselves and I am feeling groovy ;). About 2/3 of the way to Campo Ledo, we stop to pay the bridge toll (Was I in New Jersey?). The river we cross is beautiful (don’t know the name) and I am assured that the bridge is solid (it looks good!). There are a few birds flying overhead, but this is the only wildlife left in the country. The rest have been killed by landmines, or eaten during the civil war (I guess 27 years IS a long time for a war). So, there isn’t roadkill or quick glimpses of big creatures to be had. We make a sharp right onto the dirt road which leads us to the beach. It’s full of expat-looking people and it is gorgeous. It’s my kind of beach - clean, simple, long and not too crowded. I am eager to get into the water, but Kasia warns me that it’s cold. I inform her that the Pacific is a much colder ocean than the Atlantic, but as temperature is experienced in relative terms, this doesn’t mean much to her.

Lazy afternoon

Once we plop our things down next to Isabelle, Teddy and Laurent, the french petrol contingent, we head for the ocean where I am impatient to jump in. Kasia’s right, it’s pretty cold (not the tropical water I was hoping for) but nevertheless, it felt wonderful and I am not shy about enjoying the water like a seal. The waves are manageable and I feel re-energized down to my toes. I also notice that, despite the sprinkling of people on the beach (about 3 dozen or so), I’m the only one swimming. Ummm, did I not get the memo? But since there are surfers in the water, I decide that I’m happy to be the strange brown girl frolicking in the waves.

I head back to the towel for a rest and bite to eat, but soon grow restless. The book wasn’t satisfying, so I go for a run along the shore. My god. This is it. I’ve discovered how to make the next year tolerable and even good - I need to get to the beach and run. It was the sort of run where instead of getting progressively tired, I was progressively gaining strength and speed, and it felt fantastic. The two months of respite before coming to Angola have paid off, it seems. Once I was back among the crowds, I dunked my head again this time feeling refreshed by the cool water. While the others were trying their luck with the ‘fishing stick’ and the surfboard, I managed to find a few people to pepper with (practice volleyball). At 4p, by the time we head back up the dreadfully unpaved road to the highway, I have already had the best day so far. But, there was more yet to come. On the ride back, I saw scenes that I somehow missed on the way down! One was this grassland area with a river snaking through it. It reminded me of a place called Cheesequake State Park in New Jersey where Ed will one day drop his kayak in and explore!!!

Shopping Experience!

Finally, back among the people, we head to an area called Luanda Sul, and I swear to God - it looks like a suburb of Los Angeles - complete with a new mall (see flickr pictures), several master-planned communities packed with HUGE homes, and new, wide streets which have barely been used. They tell me that there’s still land grabbing going on in these parts - companies plop down and just start building. That’s wild. Apparently, in this part of town, which is actually 13 km outside of the city center, where I live and work, there are no problems with electricity, water and such, but the commute could take 2 hours. Holy hell. Forget it.

The mall was fun, just for a change of scenery. They even have a food court and a cinema. It’s funny to see movies like Harry Potter and Oceans 13 with other unrecognizable titles. And, it’s more expensive to watch movies here than in NYC!! But I was really happy to be in the Shop Rite market. It’s got good stock, decent prices, and it’s clean. Can’t ask for more (well, I can’t here, anyway). Iain and Kasia load up on goodies for their post-wedding bash next weekend, and I pick up a few comfort items (Tang!!). I try to buy some fresh bread, but somewhere in the translation, she thought I meant 3 bags of 5 pieces each! After she handed me the first bag of 5, I ran away a bit flustered and unsure about what to do with all the carbs…

Winding Down

On the way out, we run into some UN colleagues (this must be THE place for Sunday shopping). We get back to town (which took 50 minutes!) to enjoy a bit of dinner with Isabelle and Teddy in the Total company compound (French oil company). The apartments are large, safe and totally secure. As we walk into her place, I immediately recognize the music as Jarabe de Palo, a great Spanish band from Barcelona (ahhh, those were good times!). Isa prepares a nice quiche while we sip on some white wine and munch on saucisson (yummy!). It was a lovely ending to my best day ever. xxCelina

Slow Going

This was the first Saturday in many that I had difficulty getting vertical. Everytime I counted down (three, two, one, ready go…) I wasn’t ready (I never know whether to go on the ‘one’ or the ‘go’). But when I looked at the mobile flashing 9:52, I had to get serious about this getting up thing. At the theater last night, Kasia reminded me that she wanted us over for a lunch-cooking gathering. In the meantime, I had agreed to have lunch with Carolyn before playing volleyball on the Ilha at 2p. To cover up my shabby planning (didn’t really think the cooking date would come through), I asked to bring Carolyn along, and somehow it worked. But, as I’ve only met her once (and she’s a Brit!), I wasn’t sure that she would welcome such a change of plans. So, I procrastinated until 10:18 to make the call. Sheepishly, I suggest an ‘even better alternative’ to our spending loads of money at a restaurant on the Ilha. And, sheepishly, she agreed. I had a whole hour before I had to start walking to her flat (along the Marginal in the middle of the day - it’s fine). So, I did my first girly thing since arriving in Luanda (you can ask me if you care to know…).

I scooted out the door with my backpack loaded and ready for a full day. Half way down the Ilha, I realised that I had packed an uninflated volleyball but not the pump. Lame. Anyway, too late to turn around now. After the brisk walk, I arrive at Carolyn’s flat - the most beautiful one I’ve seen so far. It’s brand new, comfortable, bright and fully secured. And, as she later told me, a truckload of cash ($8K) to rent. But then again, like most expats in Angola (except the UN-ers), her company has taken care of housing (and everything!) for her and her staff of 50 consultants.

The Joy of Cooking

Anyway, her driver takes us directly to Kasia’s where she and Giovanna have already started cooking the arroz con frango (chicken) dish. I love such occasions - friends getting together with no schedule, making a meal, having some drinks, chatting and laughing. There’s no better way to pass time. Kasia and I collaborate on a mixed seafood with wine dish and set the table while Giovanna was getting the main dish ready for the long simmer. It was a lovely table (see above!) and we enjoyed our starters of garbanzo salad (so good and simple!) and the seafood mezcla.

And, just as we are serving the main dish, Daniel arrives. He looks familiar but I can’t place him…..until just after we finish the meal and he pulls out his guitar and starts to play and sing. Ahhh-ha!!! This was the voice that I totally fell in love with last night at the theater! So clean, soulful, earthy. And, I find that such things happen more often outside of the US - where circles are small, so that there is not much separation between the watcher and those being watched. It was a lovely end to a lovely meal. Then came the dessert - the best I’ve had so far in Luanda. It was a marble cake with chocolate frosting made by the cleaning woman of Kasia, and some strawberry ice cream. So good!!
The House with no Roof

We pile into a few cars and take a field trip to my potential house on the Ilha. We pass by the volleyball courts on the beach, where I am happy to see Martyna and her gang still playing. I’ll join them just as soon as my friends see this place. We pull up and luckily the family is at home to show us their house. After lots of chatting back and forth (I let Kasia and Ian ask the questions in Portuguese), they all agree that the place has so much potential-could be excellent. But, that the roof must be done properly in order to avoid problemas once the rainy season starts. And, apparently, when it rains, it REALLY RAINS in Luanda. So, we agreed that I would bring my friend’s husband (Gabriella’s husband does construction) to see the place, give another estimate of time and cost to make the roof solid and leak-proof. I feel much better now, and thank them for confirming my ambiguity about the place.

$10 Cauliflower

We pass by the VB courts once more and find them empty (they even took the nets!). Alas, I have yet to play a game, but it was important to see the house and have a wonderful meal today. Volleyball will have to wait for another Saturday. I accompany Carolyn to the South African market in town, and I’m in some sort of food shopping heaven. They’ve got beautiful produce and just cool stuff, like Lambic (yes, Rachel lambic!!), Toblerone, brie, and lots and lots of soy products. I notice that the place is full of expat types (I suppose they’re the ones who can afford to pay $10 for cauliflower…).

By the time I go through the checkout, my energy’s depleted and I want to be at home. It doesn’t take long to get back to the Marginal, and after the long haul up the stairs, I am treated to a lovely view of dusk on the Bahia. Luanda is a place of stark contrasts - rich and poor, dirty and lovely, gaudy and simple, joyful and maddening, passionate and sullen.

Tonight, I’m going to read, write and rest (forget ‘rithmetic…). I hope you enjoy your Saturday as I have mine, wherever you are in the world! xCelina

Just got home after my first Angolan cultural event, and it was fantastic.  Despite the fact that the play was in Portuguese, I was able to follow the story and enjoy the great performances.  The theater is on a rooftop of an old colonial building with rickety stairs and bare walls.   Next to the spartan performance and seating area, they’ve also erected a bar/lounge area, which was comfortable and potentially Friday-night-happy-hour sceney.  The expats came out in full force for the performance.  I met a felllow American called John, who came by to say ‘hello’ because he heard my ‘accent.’  But for the most part, I hung out with a growing group of friends that I have somehow met over the past few weeks.

It was a relaxing afternoon, after a somewhat hectic trip to the market.  I kicked off my shoes, turned up the speakers, put my feet up and laid out on the sofa, magazine in hand.  I quickly took pictures for your perusal before the sun went down.

It was a good way to end a busy week.  Good good night, xCelina

It’s 5:19a and I can’t sleep. Obrigada a deus que é sexta-feira! Ok, that didn’t roll off the tongue like TGIF does (some things are better in English…). Initially, I tried to not indulge the crescendo of thoughts running in my head but thought better of going with my flow and using it as an advantage. Hence, here I am writing it down.

The Dangers of Learned Helplessness

Yesterday, the office filed my application for an Angolan diplomatic visa and so I had some pictures taken. The admin chief said, “I hope they accept your pictures.” (She had doubts because I was wearing a neck scarf.) I asked her if we could call to verify so that we don’t find out next week that the process has to be delayed and so I miss my flight to New York. And, in that moment, I understood that there’s a big difference between what individuals believe to be under their control and what is not. And, some of the consequences are grave.

Girls’ Night, Luanda Style

On Tuesday night, I met up with Kasia, my new and wonderful friend who works for the Global Fund, and Mary Theresa, another new and kind friend, for a night of discussion. Now, Kasia has called it a Bible Study, but I think of it more as a time to reflect on life and its spiritual dimensions. And, much to the surprise of us all, it was great fun. No matter what the pretext, to carve out some time for reflection, whether it’s in a group or by myself, helps me to get perspective (aka the world doesn’t revolve around me). We came to the shared conclusion that each of us is happiest when we’re helping other people, despite the difficulties. My former colleague, Jimmy had this quote at his desk and the group loved it. It goes something like:

Give me the courage to change what I can;

the humility to accept what I can’t;

and the wisdom to know the difference.

It’s the last line that’s the crux of life, I think.

The Wise Simple Man

I’ve also had good conversations with Fritz the roommate. Last night, while we were swatting the mosquitoes away, we talked about the idea of human rights, ethics education and what makes a person of high value in society. I shared that it seems that no matter where one is in the world, we all hold those who are “educated” in high esteem. And, often, for good reason. But, we all know if many people who have many degrees hanging on the wall and are not such nice folks, or some infamous brilliant men and women who have done downright horrible things to others. And, in the end, given the trade-off, we agreed that it is MUCH better to be a good person with little formal education than to be educated and be downright nasty. And, I think that in the predominantly capitalist society that we live in, there is no real value placed on kindness, grace, humility, caring. So, we have people who are paternalistic who think they know better (because of the pieces of paper on the wall) and can “set people straight,” giving them license to shout and be disrespectful. And, it seems, it’s a dance of beliefs that all buy into - even the kind, unschooled person (who, I would argue can also be very wise). Oh, it’s too early to be ranting :).

Celina’s Beach Hut

I am in the middle of arranging for a place to live, and, let’s all cross our fingers that it works out. It’s a little house right on the water on the Ilha (the little finger of an isthmus that juts into the ocean, creating the Bahia da Luanda). It’s got everything I need - lots of light, an open kitchen/living area, a peaceful bedroom with a view and it can be secured. On this last point, I am not skimping - I promise! The good thing about the house is that it is literally sandwiched between 2 other houses, so it just has to be secured on 2 sides - the beach side and the street side. On the beach side, the sliding glass doors have the lovely iron bars, reminiscent of growing up among Filipinos in the ‘nard. And, on the street side, there is a gated enclosure and a guard will sit just outside. And, since there are a few bedrooms, I’m seriously considering a roommate (preferably one who speaks Portuguese!).

Now, I haven’t moved too quickly, because it also needs some work. This exercise is just like finding a place in NYC - you can’t have everything you want - trade-offs must be made, or else you pay a truckload of cash. In this case, the place needs a roof and a generator. Now, you might think I’m exaggerating, but I’m not. But, it’s also not as bad as it seems. Pictures will soon follow so you can catch my drift. Now, for those of you with the furrowed brows, not to worry. I’m taking a few veteran Luanda renters to see the place and give me their opinion.

In the meantime, I’m enjoying my stay in the breezy 9th floor walk-up (who cares if the water wasn’t working last night…)

There’s Craziness Everywhere

I heard about the pipe explosion in NYC a few hours after it happened, as I was on-line. It looked dramatic and probably caused quite a scare in the immediate vicinity (poor heart attack guy!). In my office the next day, some expressed concern and were worried about “what’s happening in New York.” Now, come on people, there are 12 million land mines scattered around this country and we’re shocked at bad things going on elsewhere? Meanwhile, it was a non-event for friends’ co-workers on Wall Street. Go figure.

Good Reasons for Hope

Now, it may not seem like it, but I’m actually also working! Yesterday we visited a partner organization, which is a part of the Ministry of Youth and Sport. The program brings young people together (~15-24 year-olds) to train them as health advocates and send them into the community. Despite what I had heard about some of our issues with the management, I was truly impressed by what I saw. The 18 young people were to create a response for given a scenario about Maria and Lucia - young, pregnant, and possibly HIV+ (this could all be wrong but I’m doing my best with the Portuguese…). During their presentation, I was struck by the level of engagement, analysis, and creative problem-solving. To make organizations like this function better - that’s what this work is all about…

Welcome Harriet!

Got some good news this morning that our dear friends Ann and Will had their baby girl in San Francisco! All seem well and happy. Congratulations!!

Okay, off now to start my morning. Ciaociao! xxCelina

Bom noyte! I’m horizontal, in bed, under the mosquito net, oscillating fan blasting not because it’s hot but just to reinforce the net’s safeguarding against biting critters,
John Legend cooing from the speaker. It’s been a long day and I’m exhausted. I’ve been negligent in keeping up this journal, as my father alerted me to, with a phone call at 3 in the morning (which of course I didn’t answer because - how expensive would that have been on the US phone???). Since I hadn’t written in a while, he thought something bad had happened. Fair enough. I’m in Angola after all.

The sparseness of my writings has coincided with the speed of new experiences. The Tipping Point (back to this book…) was when I moved out of Hotel Universo and into the flat. [Isn't it funny that, no matter why I'm staying at a hotel, it always feels like a special occasion. Even if it's travel for work, routine sort of goes out the window and I have a feeling that I can do special things like eating chocolate in bed.] Then, the things that bum-rushed my senses were a-plenty. Living with a new roommate, buying groceries, finding some workout routine, carving my path to the toilet for my daily early-morning sleepwalk (ooops tmi).

The first main drama was the power going out over this past weekend. NOT GOOD. But, then again, I’ve managed cooking with a headlamp many times. So, it was fine and Fritz (that’s my roommate’s name) and I managed two tasty dinners in the dark (fish steak, stir fry and rice, then spaghetti and sauce with peppers)! It just meant that I had to curb my internet addiction. I got lots of reading done!

Wow, this was supposed to be short and just to say that I’ve posted lots of pictures today, so check ‘em out. Good night! xCelina

Hello hello! It’s been nearly a week since I last wrote, and somehow, it feels like a month ago. Lots of things have happened since Sunday when last I recorded my thoughts. I’ve moved out of the Hotel Universo and into a cool apartment on the Marginal, overlooking la Bahia de Luanda; I’ve begun working with a number of my colleagues in other agencies during a UN Angola-wide Joint Programme HIV/AIDS retreat, and I’ve started talking with you lovely people in the States! God love technology. It’s so cool to hear your voices. I’ve also made some decisions about where I will live - and that’s with a view of the water. I’ve seen a number of apartments throughout the city now and I have to say that I will pay the price for living where I can find some peace of mind. It’s decided.

Now I must get some sustenance…going to the market called Jumbo (that shooombo here…). But will write later. ciao ciao!! xxCelina

p.s. I’ve given up on posting pictures here… go to www.flickr.com and search ‘PEOPLE’ with ‘celinagorre’.