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
xxxooo always
