Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Angola 2.18.2006
At first glance, Angola seems to be an utterly forsaken country. With more active landmines per capita than any other country in the world and an infrastructure completely destroyed by over 20 years of brutal civil war, it is not an inviting place. In Angola, the cold war caught fire. The leftist Angolan government's socialist policies were not well received in the West. Angola was repeatedly invaded and occupied by Mobutu's Congolese army in the north and apartheid South Africa in the south. Atrocities were widespread. America provided support to both these armies, while funding and equipping Angolan war criminal Jonas Savimbi and his UNITA rebels who were also fighting inside the country. Cuba came to the aid of the besieged Angolan government and sent 19,000 troops for support. The war finally ended with the death of Savimbi in 2002.
In Angola, you can get your legs blown off just by stepping off the road for a quick piss. For many, child amputees embody Angola's image abroad. Burnt out tanks rest quietly in abandoned fields. Bridges lay in ruins. Huge sections of the country are essentially off limits, marked with flags ominously stating "Peligroso - Mines". Outside the capital, entire cities such as Huambo still lay in ruins three years after the war's end. Some buildings are nothing more than rubble, demolished by intense urban combat. Anything left standing gives an unmistakable look at how arbitrarily the war was fought, with not a single building left untouched from errant gunfire, tank rounds and mortar fire. Shops in many towns offer practically no commodities for sale.
Yet people here are slowly starting to recover. Life goes on. In the rural areas, village life remains unchanged. Despite the years of suffering, people here have been very welcoming. Whether it be a fire to cook over, a spot to pitch a tent or even local palm wine to taste, our basic needs have all been met. The countryside is often stunning, with green rolling hills in the north, rivers cutting through gorges in the central regions, and large scenic expanses of semiarid desert in the south.
Our biggest frustration with Angola is its shear size. With nearly 2,000 kilometers between its northern border with DRC and Namibia to the south, and connected by some of the worst roads in the world, crossing Angola in any vehicle is a daunting task. Even getting a basic visa is difficult. We had to pay twice over, got stranded at the border, had to reenter the DRC with a police escort to sort out paperwork, and finally ended up with a 15 day transit visa. Toss a two-wheel drive vehicle into the equation and you have a hell of a mess on your hands.
We knew we had to travel nonstop if we had any chance of making it out of Angola before our visa expired. Waking at 6am every morning, we drove late into the night on a daily basis and camped in villages. While driving after dark is very risky, we had no choice. The Stingray took a substantial beating along the way. We flooded the engine, smashed the underside on rocks, got stuck in deep pits of mud while avoiding others by treacherously tight rope walking around minefields and almost rolled the car down a hill. But we are now past the worst and have only a short distance to go to the border, where the promise of good roads in Namibia awaits.
At first glance, Angola seems to be an utterly forsaken country. With more active landmines per capita than any other country in the world and an infrastructure completely destroyed by over 20 years of brutal civil war, it is not an inviting place. In Angola, the cold war caught fire. The leftist Angolan government's socialist policies were not well received in the West. Angola was repeatedly invaded and occupied by Mobutu's Congolese army in the north and apartheid South Africa in the south. Atrocities were widespread. America provided support to both these armies, while funding and equipping Angolan war criminal Jonas Savimbi and his UNITA rebels who were also fighting inside the country. Cuba came to the aid of the besieged Angolan government and sent 19,000 troops for support. The war finally ended with the death of Savimbi in 2002.
In Angola, you can get your legs blown off just by stepping off the road for a quick piss. For many, child amputees embody Angola's image abroad. Burnt out tanks rest quietly in abandoned fields. Bridges lay in ruins. Huge sections of the country are essentially off limits, marked with flags ominously stating "Peligroso - Mines". Outside the capital, entire cities such as Huambo still lay in ruins three years after the war's end. Some buildings are nothing more than rubble, demolished by intense urban combat. Anything left standing gives an unmistakable look at how arbitrarily the war was fought, with not a single building left untouched from errant gunfire, tank rounds and mortar fire. Shops in many towns offer practically no commodities for sale.
Yet people here are slowly starting to recover. Life goes on. In the rural areas, village life remains unchanged. Despite the years of suffering, people here have been very welcoming. Whether it be a fire to cook over, a spot to pitch a tent or even local palm wine to taste, our basic needs have all been met. The countryside is often stunning, with green rolling hills in the north, rivers cutting through gorges in the central regions, and large scenic expanses of semiarid desert in the south.
Our biggest frustration with Angola is its shear size. With nearly 2,000 kilometers between its northern border with DRC and Namibia to the south, and connected by some of the worst roads in the world, crossing Angola in any vehicle is a daunting task. Even getting a basic visa is difficult. We had to pay twice over, got stranded at the border, had to reenter the DRC with a police escort to sort out paperwork, and finally ended up with a 15 day transit visa. Toss a two-wheel drive vehicle into the equation and you have a hell of a mess on your hands.
We knew we had to travel nonstop if we had any chance of making it out of Angola before our visa expired. Waking at 6am every morning, we drove late into the night on a daily basis and camped in villages. While driving after dark is very risky, we had no choice. The Stingray took a substantial beating along the way. We flooded the engine, smashed the underside on rocks, got stuck in deep pits of mud while avoiding others by treacherously tight rope walking around minefields and almost rolled the car down a hill. But we are now past the worst and have only a short distance to go to the border, where the promise of good roads in Namibia awaits.
<< Home