Congo et al 2008
Pointe Noire, Congo and various other cities around the globe
March 2008
African Safari
Prospective Travelers:
I haven’t had an observation email in quite some time. I finally decided that I had enough events on this trip, I needed to get back into the habit. I have been on the road for exactly three weeks with three more days before home. I started out in Paris, Aberdeen, and Singapore. In Singapore, there was an earthquake. I have to admit I didn’t really feel anything, but several workers in the office started clamoring excitedly about an earthquake. Sure enough 5-10 minutes later, the building speakers announced that the building had not suffered any damage as a result of the earthquake. I was amazed that they were able to get structural engineers on site so quickly and even more so that the engineers were so able to quickly assess the structural integrity of the building.
After three days in Singapore, I traveled to Lagos, Nigeria via Dubai From Lagos to Luanda, Angola, my luggage took off on a side trip while I was in Johannesburg, South Africa. Actually, my luggage probably exercised better judgment that I did, having the good sense to hide in Johannesburg and not do the “frying pan into the fire” of Nigeria to Angola. Once in Angola, I immediately was taken into custody in the airport because 1) I had the wrong kind of visa, and 2) I was not Angolan – both of which are hideous crimes in Luanda. Fortunately, halfway through my detention, lunch came. So, instead of filing out the remaining two-lines of a five-line visa, about 15 words altogether, the officer stopped, left and ate lunch. Actually, from the time he was gone, I would guess that in addition to lunch, he had a siesta, attended a daughter’s dance recital, refinished his dining room furniture, and celebrated two birthdays. Hey, it’s not like I wasn’t occupied swatting malaria-infested mosquitoes.
I finally made it though immigration, although it should be called “intimidation” in Angola to find that my luggage was way more smarter than me and had avoided Luanda. Actually, when I didn’t find my luggage, I immediately thought of that old West Africa saying, “Never criticize a man until you have walked a mile in his ostrich skin cowboy boots, Wrangler jeans, Harley t-shirt, underwear, and socks. By then he is a mile away, at the airport still searching for his luggage and he can’t do anything about your criticism.” I didn’t even get to leave the airport - I immediately caught a second plane to Cabinda, Angola. There is a huge oil camp, the Malongo Base, just outside Cabinda. The base was originally constructed during Angola’s civil war and is surrounded by two walls of razor wire and electric fence with land mines in between. Because I had no clean clothes and even locals were commenting about my odor, I was issued orange company work coveralls. It suddenly hit me that I’m wearing orange coveralls and inside extreme security fences - I’m in prison! I bet the official in the Angola Intimidation Office was behind all this! The fruit bats were down considerably in number since my last Malongo visit. I only saw 1,000-1,500. In 2005 there were probably 10,000 fruit bats with a 2-3 foot wing span living in the trees around the canteen.
I tried to explain to my boss during this time that since I was giving presentations to employees and agents of the company, I had to look presentable with absent clothes. Orange coveralls just didn’t cut it. He denied all expenses for the Angola tribal garb I bought to help keep everyone’s attention during the presentation. The dreadlock braiding with interwoven beads was not that expensive and added authenticity. I also bought a war mask (“frowny face”) that I used to explain violations and the mask of fertility (“smiley face”) to explain compliance. He even denied reimbursement for the rainstick (pointer), various soap-stone carvings (paper-weights), and Zulu spear (back-up pointer). He can be so unreasonable!
After five days, my luggage was found in a seedy bar in Johannesburg trying to put the moves on some sleek new Samsonite upright, and was returned to me. It was like Christmas in Angola! When I saw that clean underwear, there were tears in my eyes. No, seriously there were tears – my own body odor was making my eyes water.
As I write this, I am Pointe Noire, Congo without electricity. OK, I have a battery in my PC, but the power in the room has gone off again. I would write how often the electricity went off in Nigeria, Angola and Congo, but it would be much easier to write how often it stayed on. The office in Lagos is on the third floor, but nobody takes the elevator. A small elevator car that fits 5 comfortably is no fun if you’re sharing it with 27 Nigerians (who don’t seem to understand the concept that if the car is full, wait for the next one) and the power goes out. I have a flashlight I always keep in my backpack and I have frequently finished up my morning shower/shave by only the light of the beam. Things in West Africa move a little different from the rest of the world. Maybe I should rephrase that to say things in West Africa seldom move.
I only have Gabon to go. I had Douala, Cameroon also on my ticket when I left the USA, but had to change do to “civil unrest” and rioting. Considering I have already lost my luggage once on this trip, I do not take comfort in the observation that Gabon spelled backwards is “no bag”. And, when I tried to leave Luanda for Pointe Noire, it took two trips to the airport. They told me to be at the airport at 6:00 am. When I arrived, the meet-and-greet service said the flight had left. Then they said there was no flight. Then two hours later, they said the flight was at 1:00 pm, so I should go back to the office. I was beginning to think they were uninformed. Finally about 2:30 pm, I boarded a small prop plane to Pointe Noire. Good thing I got up at 4:30 am for this 2:30 pm flight. I have been told that tomorrow, I need to be at the airport by 6:00 am for the flight to Port Gentil. Sounds like de ja vu all over again!
You really need to experience West Africa to fully appreciate it. Kind of like you can’t really “appreciate” a gun-shot wound unless you’ve been shot!
Wish you were here!
Adieu!
Monsieur Keith
(I am now speaking French for Congo and Gabon. Angola was Portuguese.)