Fazenda Cabuta

On a three day weekend, we head to Fazenda Cabuta, a coffee plantation east of Luanda.  We leave the arid area of Luanda, dusty and covered with trash, and make our way through a green terrain that is completely different from the capital. The urban area gives way to imbondeiro trees, palms, mango and acacia trees. At certain points, it seems as though we are surrounded by a rain forest. Giant boulders and stones that seemed to have been thrown by the hands of giants are scattered over the grasslands. The last 18 km require a 4-wheel drive and the road leads through several settlements of mud brick houses with laminate roofs. The villages look tidy and well-kept. Finally, the entrance to the fazenda, or plantation, is reached after 5 1/2 hours.

Houses near and around the plantation

We all sigh with relief and look in wonder at the road lined with giant palm trees and acacia trees sheltering the coffee bushes. The coffee plants are much higher than what I have seen in other coffee producing countries and high grasses and weeds cover the ground.  The overgrowth makes it seem like no coffee has been picked here for a long time. We can see both green and yellow/orange/red beans on some of the plants. I was under the impression that this was a producing plantation, but I now have my doubts.

We are surrounded by lush greenness and there are birds calling everywhere. By this time, nearing sunset, we settle into our rooms which are fine, but definitely not worth the price. The place is shabby and selectively clean: clean bathrooms, but don't look behind the curtains or behind the sofa! The fazenda itself with 4 large suites has seen better days, but we stay there in relative comfort. Simple landscaping, painting and general refurbishing of rooms and exterior is definitely needed and would certainly add to the charm. At the rates the hotel charges, there must be capital to re-invest in improvements. No matter, we are happy to be in these beautiful surroundings.

The next day we set of on a walk to the nearby viewpoint. The path leads us through the lush countryside: acacia trees, a few fig trees (fruit not ripe, unfortunately!), palm trees, coffee plants and high grasses surround us. The dampness from the earth steams up and although a breeze stirs through the trees, I am relieved to have shade. The 45 minute walk is beautiful and it feels great to be outside in nature. The viewpoint is breathtaking. The Kwanza river snakes its way around the hills and we can see waterfalls at a distance. On our way back, we  meet a very friendly couple and their son. They point out the way to another trail and say that they live in the vicinity but will not work in the fazenda since they are paid 200 KWZ per day ( $2.00 USD) for harvesting, cutting and collecting. It is not worth their time they say.

Back at the plantation, we explore the buildings and we are disappointed to see that everything seems abandoned. The concrete terraces which are used to dry the coffee are overgrown by grass. There is no apparent activity. The warehouses have new locks, so there must be someone with a key. We arrange for a tour of the production area by one of the employees in the morning.

From what we can gather, Fazenda Cabuto was an operating coffee plantation during the Portuguese colonial reign. I would assume that during the war, production was interrupted as most Portuguese fled the country. During our chats, someone says that many Angolans would not drink coffee for many years since it represented repression and colonialism. Today, coffee, mainly espresso, can be bought at any restaurant or eatery but Angola is also a tea-drinking nation.

After the war, the fazenda and surrounding lands were given to a general whom fought in the civil war. This general was either of German or Dutch descent and is known as "the German" or " o alemão". According to hotel staff, no one around the fazenda has ever seen this person. Today, the fazenda is owned by someone else.

On our last day, our tour guide clears up some of our misconceptions: the fazenda actually produces 1000 tons of organic coffee every year. Much of it is exported to Namibia and South Africa or sold at limited points in Luanda. They don't water the plants or use pesticides of any sort. Basically, the plants are left to grow all year and then during harvesting time, the 1,000 local workers that gather in May, June and July first cut down the weeds and overgrowth, then collect the beans and prune the plants. The coffee will dry for 3 months and then will be processed.

 One of the huge warehouses has 2250 large sacks of picked, dry, coffee which has not been husked yet. Some of the sacks are from 2011 and onward. It is a pity that the coffee is not being sold. I wonder if it is world market coffee prices that limit production and do not make it worthwhile for the plantation owner to invest enough so that production can reach its full potential? As we leave,  we buy 1 kg. of beans for 1,000 KWZ  ($10.00 USD) to take home with us and wonder what we should actually be paying to make the worker's wages worth their time.

Luanda in Transition

If the economic growth of a country can be measured by the number of cranes at construction sites, the growth in Luanda must be staggering. Almost anywhere in the city, cranes loom overhead and construction sites abound. The civil war left great destruction, but slowly Angola seems to be picking itself up. It is a city of contrasts where ultra modern buildings are neighbors to slums and where elegance meets ramshackle. The downtown area is a mix of new skyscrapers, construction sites and charming Portuguese old buildings, some of which have been abandoned or poorly maintained since the war.

The "Marginal" is a beautiful, renovated waterfront area with a walkway lined with palm trees. People run, cycle or walk every day. The basketball courts are usually full. There are "boot camp" classes and meetings for boy and girl scouts on the weekends. There is an open air concert arena and a skating ramp. This is a prestige project for the government and the use of so much money was contested, but this is one of the few, open-air areas accessible to everyone and safe for pedestrians.

A couple of months ago, a huge area that extends beyond the present "Marginal" was cleared, and by that, I mean bulldozed. One day there was a neighborhood and the next day there wasn't. This area is an extension of the present "Marginal" and was home for many.

From what I read in the newspaper, a semi census was taken of the residents back in October. "Chicala" was comprised of several neighborhoods made of simple dwellings, some concrete, having several bedrooms and bathrooms, to lean-tos with laminate roofs. People had been living there for decades or had been rather recent arrivals to Luanda. Some people say that the inhabitants had appropriated the land illegally. Everyone living in the area was to give information about the size of the household and number of people living in the structure. Then, one day in February, the bulldozers came.

People had to quickly get their belongings and share a pick-up with three other families, and away they went to a new housing project built by the government. I don't know what happened to the families that had already left for work and school, since apparently no one had received notice of when the moving day would be. I imagine that some arrived in the evening to find their homes gone. This was a huge undertaking involving police, the military and many vehicles.

Shared by 4 families

Ensuing reports from the people affected relate that some families were thrilled with the upgrades they received from the government while others were mourning the loss of their homes. Some of the newly built housing had non-functioning bathrooms or broken fixtures and other families claim that they received a much smaller house than promised.

I am amazed at the efficiency of this process; each time I drove by a larger area had been completely cleared of all ruble. I am trying to find out what the land will be used for, but as it borders the bay and ocean, it is prime real estate property. The face of Luanda is changing daily.

Carnival!

March 4 is the official day celebrating carnival in Angola. Schools were closed as were businesses and Luanda started clearing our already on the Friday before as many took advantage of the long holiday weekend. Preparations started weeks ahead with bleachers being mounted on the main avenue where the parade was to take place.

 Angola was one of the main slave providers to Brazil and the captured slaves  took with them their music and religion and that is how the Semba/Samba tradition began in Brazil, an integral part of the Brazilian carnival. The Angolan carnival dates back to the 1850's, and was a huge, spectacular event before the long civil war took its toll on the country. Carnival in Angola is regaining strength each year,  and it is an event for the whole family and all generations.

In my short time in Angola, I have come to realize that music and dance are an integral part of the culture, so I was really looking forward to watching Carnival. Our sources of information were a bit fuzzy, but we finally determined that the parade was to start at 4:00 pm. Our main concern was parking: where and would we get out again? We decided that we would park at a public lot closest to the parade area and see if we could walk to the end of it.

Before we left, we watched the local TV channel, and indeed, the parade had started! We could see the nation's president, José Eduardo Dos Santos, looking very relaxed in a printed, short sleeved shirt watching the festivities from the bleachers with whom I assume is his wife, a beautiful woman wearing dark sun glasses.

As we made for the parade, I was surprised at how quiet our part of town was. Almost no cars, and I did not see anyone dressed up. However, as we got to the "Marginal" area near the water, we could see children  and some adults dressed in face masks and costumes. People were walking in the general direction of the parade. As we made our way, it was still very hot and we knew the walk would be longer that what we had expected.

We met a lovely group of young girls, wearing masks and very curious about who we were and what we were doing. They allowed me to take their picture!

Carnival beauties!

Our next plan was to drive up to a gas station closer to the parade and see if we could park. As we arrived, we could see a float getting ready to go to the area, but there were barricades everywhere and no parking, so we had to capitulate and head back home. It was nice to be out and see that people were enjoying themselves and taking part in this tradition!

Picture Paranoia

As I write, the craters on my street are being repaired, local time 10:43 pm. Yay! I wish I could show you pictures, but after snapping the picture of one truck, a man hurries over and asks me what I am doing taking pictures.

"Who has authorized you to take pictures?"
"No one, I didn't know I needed authorization. What is the problem?"
"You are taking pictures and we don't know what publication you will use them for."
"No publication, just me, a neighbor and person curious about what is happening on my street."
"You can't take images of people without asking them."
"Are you afraid that I will steal their souls?"
"No, but we don't know what you will use the pictures for."
"They are for me, a curious person interested in keeping memories. Do you really think anyone is going to pay me for these pictures, that I will make money off of them?"

That seems to pacifiy him and he stands beside me as we watch the men work.

I have written before about how difficult it is to take pictures in Angola, but this exemplifies the fear or paranoia about picture taking.

I am overjoyed that the craters are being fixed since our street can be very busy at peak traffic times and the craters do create  extra delays. Thankfully, they are being repaired before the rains set in. We have had a couple of light rains, which already has caused flooding.  I would imagine it is a combination of burst pipes, poor drainage and sewers chocked by trash.

Kalandula Waterfalls & Pedras Negras

During a school break, we venture to the Kalandula waterfalls which are supposed to be Africa's second or third largest waterfalls, with Victoria falls in Zimbabwe being the largest. There are some beautiful rock formations nearby as well, so we plan an overnight trip.

We head east out of town, and as in any outing, getting out of town is the worst part of the trip, unless you get stuck behind a convoy of dump trucks on the curvy, two-lane highway as we did. Thankfully, the convoy leaves us as they enter this huge construction complex with Chinese writing. The Chinese are very present in Angola constructing highways, roads, buildings and are involved in just about any project imaginable.

At this point, we have been driving about 1 1/2 hours and the landscape has already changed from arid to more verdant, and as we proceed, it becomes lush and green. We decide to stay in the actual little town of Kalandula where there is only one hotel to be found. This hotel is a combination of an older building, which has an old world feel to it with a huge swimming pool and small bunker-like trailers that were probably left behind by some organization that worked in Angola possibly during the civil war or soon after its end. These trailers have been added on to the side of the hotel as additional rooms.

The bunker rooms are clean and not so bad, but they do have the hardest beds ever. Again, don't even get me started on what we paid which was absolutely ridiculous, and for that, we will not be back.

After check in, we head to Pedras Negras (Black Rocks) at Pungo Adongo. These are majestic rock formations that seem to magically appear on the relatively flat horizon. We drive up to the entrance of the path that leads to their tops.

Steps leading to path

It is an easy climb and the views are beautiful, so different from any of the landscape we have experienced in Angola so far. We can see the village school and we are joined on our walk by three kids. The oldest one tells us a bit about the village, the school and how they love to play basketball. Angola won the African basketball championships in 2013 against Egypt, something they are very proud about.

The school in the center

After taking in the sights, we head down and decide that it is early enough to go to the waterfalls. The drive is pleasant and takes us through small villages which are filled with goats. On the weekends, we always smell barbecues and now I know where some of the meat comes from!

The mango trees are just full of fruit and the fields are lush and green as we make our way to the falls.

When we arrive, the parking area around the falls is relatively full of cars and people are grilling on the side of the road. Ice cold beers are sold at stands everywhere in Angola, one of the cheapest commodities here at $1.00 per can for the national brands. Families are enjoying the day and as we get closer to the falls, people are dipping in the pool formations of the river. 

The falls are beautiful!

On the other side of the river, a ways off, you can see an abandoned hotel and we decide to take a ride there to have another view of the falls.

Can you see the abandoned hotel at the top right?

We ride through more villages and at one, it looks like the inhabitants have managed to get solar paneled light posts. If indeed, they are solar paneled, it is an innovative idea that would allow people in remote areas without electricity to perhaps feel safer and provide a way for socializing after the sun goes down.

The tiny orange structure at top left of the falls is where I took pictures from the other side, just to give you and idea of the size!

A really enjoyable outing. Angola is enormous and we still have much to see, but we do need several days to get to some of the places we would like to visit.

Valentine's Day

This morning extra vendors were setting up tents on my road, namely flower sellers. There are usually ladies selling fruits, but then it struck me: Valentine's Day! Red roses, bouquets and wrapped teddy bears can also be seen in front of the cemetery which is right down from us. Flower ladies are always stationed there, but today there was extra activity and lots of red everywhere.

Double parking, honking and motorcycles driving away with huge bouquets met me as I walk to take a closer look. Again, I am shouted at by a lady screaming that I just can't take publicity pictures.  I feel like a thief sneaking up, with camera ready, and snapping quickly. But, really, does she think these pictures will give me any kind of profit? Or what on earth does she think the pictures will be used for?

A friend who has been living here over a year told me that the worst traffic day she has ever survived in Luanda, was last year on Valentine's Day. There have been radio commercials, Valentine's Day specials announced in perfumeries, restaurants and other establishments. This is serious business in Angola!

A sampling

As I snap a picture a young guy holds up his bouquet and asks the ladies: "Is it really pretty, you think?" "Oh, of course!", they answer in unison. He looks unsure, but I don't know if it is because of the amount he is about to shell out or if he wonders about their freshness. I bought a measly bouquet for $15.00, a pathetic marigold bunch when we first moved here, that died the next day, so I understand his misgivings! Not only that, but I ask one of the lady's about a dozen roses with a big red ribbon and wrapped in cellophane: $200.00! When I start to laugh, she say, "OK, just give me $150.00". I can't believe the chaos and mayhem; they are getting plenty of business, though. BUT, who are these people paying this kind of money for flowers that will die tomorrow? Some look like pretty ordinary people, while others leave their  haphazardly parked, huge trucks and fancy cars along the street.

Love traffic

São Paulo Market

São Paulo market is not far from my house and my first sighting was when I thought I was taking a short cut home and ended up using three times as much time due to the fact that I drove past the market. I have never been on a worse city road or one filled with more traffic and people, ever, and I promised myself I would never go in that direction again.

If you mention São Paulo to expats the usual comments are "nightmare!", "chaos!" and "don't you dare go there alone!" I love open air markets and I was hoping that São Paulo would be an alternative to the usual grocery stores or where I could find items not found elsewhere. São Paulo is the market where many ordinary Luandans do their shopping. After driving by, I could see why it had such a bad reputation: stalls with cheap-looking wares, pots, pans, toilet brushes, you name it, surrounded by dirt, trash and hundreds of people.

Today I got a call from a Vietnamese friend who told me her driver was going shopping for her at the Vietnamese store in São Paulo. I have been hearing about this Vietnamese store for a while and since I need fish sauce and rice noodles, which I can't find anywhere, I agree to meet her driver who will show me the way. It's Monday and the market is not fully open since they do cleaning, but to me, it looks like it could not possibly be any busier.

First challenge is to find parking, which we eventually do. Thankfully, her driver is rather tall and is wearing a white shirt, which means I can keep an eye on him as he leads the way through the chaos.

We must weave our way through people, cars and wheelbarrows being pushed while taking care where we step to avoid stagnant water, trash and mud. I ask him how he ever found the store, "I just came and started asking everyone for the Chinese store. People would send me here and there, but it wasn't until I bumped into a Chinese woman whom showed me the way that I found it"(here the word Chinese is used for Asian people). I keep my eyes open for landmarks, but I doubt I will ever find my way here again.

 

This is the sign I will keep looking for if I ever venture back since it marks the staircase that leads up to the rooms housing the store.

At the top of the stairs he bangs on the locked gate. There is no sign indicating that this is a store, but my friend's driver is obviously a recognized customer since he shops there about twice a month and we are let in with a smile. Inside a small room stacked with all kinds of things, I  spot the vermicelli noodles, the fish sauce, rice papers all sorts of herbs and teas. There are two sisters inside who take his order. My Portuguese is basic and my Vietnamese is non-existent, so communication is limited. I try to find out how many Vietnamese people live in Angola and when they arrived, but I need a translator. I assume their families left during the Vietnam war, only to arrive to another country wracked by civil war.

View from the store entrance

When his order is filled, we weave our way back. Everyone is preoccupied buying, selling or taking goods somewhere, but I can definitely say that I never felt unsafe. The people were carrying on with their affairs and I hardly got any looks. I did not wear my watch and I kept a good hold on my purse, something which I always do, but I do feel that some expats are a bit paranoid about safety and mixing with ordinary people. I can see going back, but I can't say that I will find the shop again!

Cachupa

I love cachupa; a hominy based stew with chicken, beans, sausages and other meats in a tomato and vegetable base. This is an Angolan dish that has many variations and everyone has their own way of making.  Some use greens as well while others go for just the hominy, chicken and one type of sausage.   The humbler ones, I think, are uncomplicated and better.


Not far from us, there is a very simple restaurant where I have eaten lunch several times with my husband since it is not far from his office either. This diner serves business men and other local workers and they usually have a variation of cachupa and it is always good. You serve yourself from the entreés, beans, rice and other sides and weigh your plate at the register. As I was taking the below picture of the entrance, a very stern-looking woman who emerged from the side of the building asked me brusquely if there was a problem. "No probem", I said and I was about to tell her how much I like the food here when she angrily replies "If there is a problem, I should know then!" There is really some kind of paranoia about picture taking in this country which I have yet to figure out.

Another place I like is not far either. I must admit that my husband was the brave one here since he ventured in with a colleauge. The entrance  does not look promising and the set up is simple: plastic tables and chairs, a tent shade, unmatched cutlery, but my, is the food good! With a side of rice and a cold Cuca beer, you can't go wrong with their cachupa!

I want to learn how to make it myself and take my maid, Maria,  to a giant grocery store to help me pick what we need. As you can see, the selection of sausages is huge. I am willing to try even the blood sausages, but I can not stomach the cow intestines. No matter, Maria says, it will still be good! As we shop, she tells me tha in the old days, this was usually served during wakes and some of the senior population still associates this dish with death.

The selection is astounding

We start our with a big pot and boil the hominy. This takes a couple of hours to soften at a simmer. In another pot, the meat (pork, chicken and beef) cook together with onion and tomatoes  and the greens, which remind of spinach, but are called "cove" are sweated out separately. The sausages are cut and added in at the end.

Our cachupa ingredients

Here you see three types of sausage pork, chicken, beef, beans, canned tomatoes, fresh tomatoes, green bell peppers and greens. It is a one pot meal, easy and delicious. I must say I prefer without the greens since they do add a bit of bitterness. Some of the sausages are too fatty for my taste, but they do give a delicious flavor. We end up with an enormous amount since the kids thought the hominy was weird and I end up freezing half of it. Good to know I have an easy dinner ready for a day I don't feel like cooking!

Flat tire

When the car gets back from delivering the kids at school, it has a flat. Now, I have never shied away from changing a tire; I at least go through the motions of taking out the jack before help arrives, but I have never actually completed this myself and I rely on my driver to help me out.

I take the manual out, and we begin, but it is soon apparent that the team of "Twiddle Dum and Twiddle Dee" is not going to be very efficient. Thankfully, a couple of other drivers hanging out in the basement are attracted by our fumbling and they start coming with their advice. The tire is changed, and I realize, that it is not as scary as it seems.

Now, we have to repair the tire. The other drivers and the maintenance man recommend a vulcanization shop not far and they tell me it will cost 1,000 KWZ (10.00 USD)

My driver and I head just a couple of blocks away to a sidewalk repair shop. I see men in overalls, a bathtub and hoses. We approach them and they look at the tire and say, no problem. However, the price is 1,500 KWZ per plug. All right, so a 50% increase in price because I am a foreigner is expected. I try to negotiate, but they stick to their guns and since I am close to home and realize that any other workshop will entail battling traffic, I accept.

Things get rolling quickly and I am showed the plug. Not sure what I am looking at, but I have to have a car, with a spare, this afternoon to pick up the kids and they assure me that it will be done correctly. I can't call anyone since my phone has no service for some reason.

First, they find the cause: a metal piece that was almost completely impaled into the tire.

The culprit

Then, they take a plug, fold it in half and stick it into the hole. This is repeated since the opening is so big. The price is now doubled since they use another plug.

Then, they check whether the plug has done the job by sticking the tire into the bathtub. As they roll it around, another puncture on the side is discovered as water shoots out and barely misses me.  Another plug is needed, although they maintain that they used  a 4th. 

The patched tire is bounced on the sidewalk to show me that it is indeed holding the air. By now I am laughing as are the spectators gathered to watch the work. The repaired tire is safely put in place and I go to pay. I am suddenly being charged labor as well and after some discussion they get 6,000 KWZ ($60) and not the 7,000 KWZ they ask for. As I pay, ice cold Heinekens are cracked open. Yes, it's very hot and yes, I over-paid.  

Later in the afternoon, one of the professional drivers where my husband works is finally contacted and when I show him the metal piece, he has no doubt that we need a new tire since the plugs will not hold.     

Expensive Shade

We headed out to Mussulo, a 35 km. long sand spit which runs parallel along the southern part of Luanda. This is a popular spot on the weekend where many flock to escape the city.

The first challenge can be parking.  On the 2nd of January, many New Years revelers were probably at home resting which meant we found a spot right away. This is usually a major headache as parking is scarce and cars may be stopped at the main highway turn off leading down to the parking area and have to wait for spots to open up.

The second challenge is getting a boat. Simple, outboard boats ferry people back and forth across the bay. Locals will run up and immediatly begin haggling as they all want customers. The discussion can get quite heated, but we had already commited ourselves to the man that had "helped" us park. As soon as this was made clear, things quieted down and we proceeded on to the boat. We all got life jackets although some of them were ill-fitting. The ride was surprisingly fast and the water was a beautiful turquoise-green. Mussulo sparkled ahead.

 We had not known what to expect, so we took along beach chairs and drinks. Apparently the fact that we brought our own cooler limited us to where we could actually go since some of the restuarants do not allow coolers on their premises,  so we trusted the captain.

We were let off at restaurant/hotel/ facing the bay which had "tiki" huts and two lounge chairs each.  There were several empty huts, but at first told that they were "reserved". After further questioning, the waiter decided that we could, after all, set up camp under one. After a while, the waiter came to collect for the use of the hut and cheerfully informed us that we owed $40.00! Not only that, but the restaurant was only serving a buffet lunch and that the pricer per head was $75.00!!! We were certainly glad that we had had a late breakfast and had packed some pretzels and some mixed nuts. We think that the price was slightly higher than normal due to it being holidays , but even so...

Granted, the huts were beautifully made and structurally sound, but their shade was nothing less than what you would expect from any shade: shade. The surroundings were nice, but nothing that warranted such an extravagant price. The showers were non-functional, but the fee also allowed us to use the bathroom which was pretty nice: toilet paper, soap, towels and functioning toilets. Again, just what you would normally expect from a bathroom.

Luanda is one of the most expensive cities in the world, but I continue to be shocked. Next time, we will also pack food and our shade tent and be left off on the Atlantic side where there are no facilities and enjoy ourselves just as much at a fraction of the cost!