My Trip to Moxico and Angolan History - DAY 10
D. Gabriel asked if I preferred to go with Maria (she didn’t go last time with Father Onorio and Father Ornelas) and him to Moxico Velho or keep on sleeping (they would go at 0830 AM)? You know me. And D. Gabriel knows me too… They ended up going without me. Maria later told me that in the road to Sakassange there was a team making landmines explode. So they had to stop for half an hour and it was Maria’s first time in front of such show...
At 11 AM, they came back. I was ready for the afternoon and waiting for them. I was getting my stuff organized before getting back to Luanda: the hour was painfully near. A couple of minutes later, I was in the car, on our way to the Sisters of the Company Saint Theresa of Jesus. We would go with them at Father Imbamba’s onjango, half an hour from downtown.
The onjango is a straw-thatched cottage Angolan people use when they go to the beach or, in this case, by the river. The landscape is just beautiful. There are some storeys for the cultivations. There is white sand. Normally, it’s not for plantation, but it seems that white sand was good for vegetables. The spring of the river Lwena was some metres away from us, so the water was very clear, clean and fresh.
While Sister Avelina was taking care of the food in the onjango, the others and I would go down the hill to a side of the river. Sister Rosa took her cloth off and told me “don’t be afraid to see a nun in shorts!” I said I wouldn’t! Why would I? Of course, in Maria’s time, that would be almost impossible to see such a scene. Sister Rosa in the river, on shorts, washing her hair. Times have changed, it seems…
Then came Sister Inês. By that time, Sister Rosa was already outside the water and Sister Marta was braiding her hair. Maria and Sister Avelina came to join us and we kept on talking and laughing and taking photos. One thing I learned: they love taking photos!
Lunch was served! We had barbecue, antelopes, French fries, rice, corn pap, dry fish in palm oil, Savoy-cabbage in tomato and onions, salad of tomato and salad, kizaca (I guess it is spinach in onions…)… D. Gabriel blessed the food and after he had finished I said “Father Marcelo Rossi (a Brazilian priest that is known by his Masses that unite over two thousand (2’000) Catholics each Sunday in Brazil and by his CDs of sang prayers) would say ‘You know what to say?’ ‘Amen?’ ‘No! Attack!’” They laughed and we did attack….
D. Gabriel had put some langa music: that’s how it is called Congolese music in here. The Bishop didn’t dance, but the sisters and I did. The music was too good no to. Call it strong will to only shake the head for an African when the music has rhythm…
D. Gabriel stopped dancing in 1979, something he really likes, but since knowing he wanted to be in the religious life. Call it strong will!
We talked and laughed, we danced and had a great time! Never had so much fun! And we decided (Maria and I) to come back for Christmas, if ever I can be back for that time.
When D. Gabriel changed the music to put some Angolan, we saw a man dancing a few metres from the onjango. I thought he was young, but Maria had her doubts.
We was dancing the kizomba, and even my brothers would have problems following his steps! He danced so well! Maria went to talk to him. There were two more boys near him and all were dancing.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty.”
“Where have you been?”
“In the bushes…”
“Have you ever killed?”
“Yes. Lots.”
“Where did you learn how to dance?”
“In the bushes.”
He had a strange face. He was only 20 and yet, he had a tired face. Sister Avelina says that suffering can change one’s face.
Children in these remote areas, away from every one suffer more than those that have manage to become refugee in some camp. These children lived in the bushes, in the middle of nowhere, and they had to forget what childhood meant and really was. They were enrolled as soon as they could shot a gun and since then, they killed. They were violent. They became monsters, robots under the control of adults with black ideas.
That couldn’t be living.
I sure am glad they managed to dance in the middle of the bushes because he didn’t have a childhood, a normal one. With toys and laughs. I had a normal childhood. I wish they could have something half as nice.
A while after, a couple of children were around. We decided to give the rest of the pap and the fish. They went to wash their hands at the river and came back to eat. Sister Inês watched them for a while, then came back. I was near them, to see if they were alright, but I couldn’t stay and watch them as if they were in a zoo. I have some shyness when it comes to those moments.
After they had well eaten, they went to watch the pans in the river in sign of gratitude. Then, Sister Avelina and Sister Marta went to wash the plates and the glasses on the other side of the river.
When they came back, it was time to eat again. I took some antelope and salad, but really couldn’t eat more. Maria had prepared a bed over the rocks for me and I stayed there for a while. But I didn’t stay long. Too many little beasts around!
And so we went till the sunset, we took profit of the landscape and magnificent postcards it could give us. The clear and fresh river, the green plants, the high gold-straws, the white sand, the onjango, the music, the huts in the other side of the river, the kids dancing and eating… Maria was away, over the hill and she got a little emotional. Sister Rosa, Sister Inês and I came by. Sister Rosa was saying that this could probably be a very sad ending for such a nice day… I just said “She is thinking. That is not a good thing!” People laugh when I say that. Really! When people think about life ends up with white hair, wrinkles and heart attack! They don’t believe in me…
She said: “This scenery is so beautiful, and I can’t stop thinking of the people in the bushes that have never gazed it. They were more worried when it comes to killing and doing bad things! How could they possibly leave everything behind and never appreciated the treasure nature had gave them…?”
Then she smiled, and we came back to the onjango, and kept on dancing till the sun was setting. Maria was talking about operations and illnesses I had and still have, not a very interesting issue from my point of view since I am the one having ALL those. Then, they started talking about the illnesses of the women of Maria’s generation. And that, really, I can live without!
D. Gabriel wanted to know what they were talking about, but when we were turning away, I felt down, my foot on a hole, and took the Bishop with me. Well, he got hurt a little (just a little!), and the sisters helped us get up. Yikes! That was a fall! Really, felt bad about that, but well… I’ll spare the details…
After cleaning everything, we came back to the jeep and left Father Imbamba’s onjango with the full moon behind us. I was watching the full moon, so bright in the dark sky, and the fog that covered the hill and the huts. I made an effort not to cry. I can become very emotional when it comes to leaving a place and you know you are not coming back in a long time…
I brought a wooden stick of at least 1 metre. I said I would get it to France, no one believed in me. I keep on wondering why don’t people trust me? I said I would bring my stick and the stick was with me!
After leaving the sisters at their homes, Sister Avelina would call me “little granddaughter”. We hugged each other saying that we would come back. For Christmas if I could make it.
Arriving at the Bishopric, we met Sisters Adalberta and Carla from the Daughters of Jesus. We were talking about the trip to Lukusse because they didn’t go, the memories and about the long wait to eat! D. Gabriel said it was our fault we didn’t eat when we started being hungry. I replied (I really was inspired that day!): “But, sir! How could we possibly eat if we were waiting for you and Father Santiago? We waited for you because we have respect and education. I don’t think it was polite to eat without both of you. We were together, we would eat together.” I looked Sister Carla “Geez! They teach us how to be polite and respectful, and that’s the treatment we get! That doesn’t compensate anymore!”
D. Gabriel just said “You are right”.
Between you and I, I am glad he agreed! I didn’t want to have a sermon right there!
I had my stick and the sisters were wondering what was I doing with that. I said I was taking it to France. Maria said “They will accuse you of witchcraft!” Just wait for me! And see!
<< Angola