Angola #6 – A City of Refuge and Refuse

Eighteen hours is a long time to hang in the sky. That’s how long it took to fly from Atlanta to Johannesburg, South Africa. The total travel time to Angola was 24 hours.

Our plane touched down in Luanda, the capital city of Angola. Two-thirds of Angola’s population lives in Luanda. They fled there for safety during a civil war. It had only been 2 years since the warring sides agreed to a cease-fire. As the plane rolled out, I saw burned out jet fighters and troop transport planes. Airplane parts littered the infield. Tanks damaged beyond repair were stored on the tarmac.

Our group of 15 exited the plane and walked to the terminal. Bullet holes dotted the walls with large chunks blown away by mortar shells. Soldiers with automatic weapons stood watch over the mass of humanity waiting to clear customs.

After retrieving our luggage, our hosts drove us to our accommodations. My senses were on overload with new sights, sounds, and odors. Luanda was a shantytown as far as the eye could see. Absurdly, some shanties had TV satellite dishes. Children played in ditches filled with raw sewage and garbage. Cars were everywhere, but weren’t going anywhere. Street vendors walked between cars to sell their goods.

Our group definitely stood out as the only whites in a sea of black faces. Our interpreter told us that some onlookers shouted profanities as we passed by. It was the only time during our trip that I felt unsafe.