bumper cars

I’ve been in Luanda now almost a week, and I feel like I should have some insight on the city, a glimpse of what makes Angola unique, a description of something amazing I’ve seen – in short, something to write home about. Unfortunately I don’t. I feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface of this town, seeing life mainly from a car window in heavy traffic…

In Luanda, traffic is always heavy. It’s often mentioned in literature on urbanisation and displacement that Luanda is a city made for 500,000 people that now heaves with 3.5 million. Nowhere is this evident more than on the roads. Since the war ended in 2002, Luandans have been importing cars at an astounding rate (since people can now drive places), overwhelming the road system (I am being generous here by using the word road) and the traffic cops to the point at which driving across town is remarkably similar to driving around an oval track, with no lanes or directions marked, in bumper cars. Remember how bumper cars had that feature that, if you were stuck, you could keep cranking the wheel and go backwards while whipping the front end around? That would be very useful here. But people make do without it. I think that Angolans have mastered the art of mind over matter: they can make their cars bend around the traffic. That’s the only way I can explain how 18 cars facing a multitude of directions but all blocking each other in can undo their Tetris-like formation… without a scratch (so far!). Being a pedestrian in this mix is not for the faint of heart or those without eyes in the back of your head. Are you indecisive? Forget it, you’re done. To cross the street here you must be extremely confident. Do or do not, there is no try. I have seen a few canine casualties to the mean streets here. I carelessly cracked a joke to my colleagues in the car the first time I saw a dog lying on the side of the road. “Sometimes it’s a kid,” one retorted. Oh.

I have found a few diversions from thoughts such as these. First the Viking Club, a Thursday night function at the local Swedish apartment block. It is one of the main hangouts for the English-speaking expats, which means Scandinavian, Dutch, Canadian and American (at least those are the ones I’ve met so far). The venue is quite attractive with a quiet (anything quiet here is rare!) garden area in the back… pure Scandinavian design. The drinks are cheap at $2US, but my connection there and fellow Canadian, Tako, ensured that no money left my pocket. I got Tako’s number from Julia, the Canadian Consul here in Luanda (I sit outside of the office she shares with her husband, Allan, the Director of DW), and called him up ½ hour before the Viking Club was scheduled to start. He picked me up, paid for my drinks, introduced me to everyone there, drove me home and invited me to an incredible Indonesian dinner the following evening prepared by his wife Henriette and shared with a group of expats with, collectively, over 100 years on Angolan soil. Oh ya, they also gave me a book of stories about Angola, which they had contributed to. Good people to know.

I am generally feeling very naïve and ignorant here. So many of the foreigners I’ve met have been here for a long time, and have lived through so much in this place. Some of them may be a bit shell-shocked now that the war is over: I’ve heard conversations about the ‘good old days’ when there was very little commerce (or traffic) in Luanda. I can’t say it doesn’t sound attractive. I don’t know much of the history or politics of Angola, nor am I able to share stories working on one side of the front line while home was on the other. In general, I can add very little to the conversation.

My Portuguese is pretty rough, but I am seeing a bit of improvement… though I think it may only be apparent to me. Fortunately, I’ve run into a fair number of people that speak French. Who would have thought that would come in handy? My roommate Pedro, for example, is from Huambo (the interior of Angola) but studied in the Democratic Republic of Congo, so we are able to converse in French. Quite handy, since otherwise we would be limited to “Do you have pineapple?” and “ How much is it?” which can be a great way to make friends, but usually not when you are sleeping in the same room. Tonight I’m going to try to learn “can you please refrain from having full-volume cell phone conversations at 5am EVERY MORNING!” in Portuguese. I could say it in French, but I think it might be a useful phrase here.

Well, turns out I had a fair bit to say after all. Hope you are all well, and feel free to email or post comments.

Ryan