WEEK 115th – 22nd of September 2007.
Again, a Farewell to the known.My last day in Europe, from then until the next march, was spent by me and my colleagues Kaisa and Claudia in the smiling city of Bruxelles.
Our stop in the way from Copenhagen to Luanda allowed us to enjoy this one-day vacation, which worked as a little gift, framing our memories and regrets of Denmark and our hopes and fears of Africa.
Bruxelles is as I already knew, though it was my first visit: a cosmopolitan city, full of dreams – as little and obscure as the narrow streets of the centre, which nobody seems to know where they end up; the past and the future confused in the buildings and in the inhabitants, the tipsy and noisy atmosphere of the main squares, surrounded by old palaces that observe calmly the frenetic night life of the afternoons. The outskirts, which host people from different countries of the World, and the vision of the typical middle-eastern corner shops and groceries, exposing a perfect mixture of colours in the fruit and the vegetables, and filled with the smell of the past, a step closer to Africa, invited me to imagine what I was about to see and live for six months. Surprisingly, the accommodation provided by the flying company for this two-day flight turned out to be a four stars hotel, and the full Englis
h breakfast was, I later realized – although I was prepared to it – a farewell to my spoilt habits.
picture 1. the entrance of the scool.
The flight to Luanda lasted 8 comfortable hours, and from the window I could see my country and, not long later, the northern African coast, which very soon gives space to the desert. Being 11.000 meters high did not weaken the dry colours and the smooth consistency of this velvet ocean of gold, as well as did not lessen – when, all of a sudden, I found myself flying over the equator – the slow pace of the green humid breath inspired by the rainy forests of Congo.
Luanda, as seen by the plane, looked like a poor city, every street surrounded by red soil, giving the impression – together with the thickness of its air, the greyness of its cement living units and with the shiny presence of its oil refineries scattered by the harbour – of a Martian colony. At the airport I quickly regained my sense of reality when a lame old man, wearing a white suite as to be a doctor, welcomed the tired passengers to Angola by checking their vaccination cards. I still don’t know what my first impression was, it is not the first time for me to change my life completely for a period of time, and therefore my mind was prepared to be flexible so as to control the pain for the first days, the first weeks, whatever happened. That should be knowledge.
picture 2. the typical Angolan nature in this area.
As a matter of fact, my first week was awful: not because of the torrid climate, not because of the language which I barely speak – though my Italian mother tongue helps me more than I expected – not because of the difficult conditions of the food, accommodation and water (I know now how precious the water is, when every day I fear that the tank is empty and I cannot brush my teeth or wash my face), not because of the fact that I am the only European in a school of more than 200 students (apart from the Headmaster, who is always busy and often out in town, and though the people are even too nice with me: a sign of the old bleeding scar of colonialism, or simply of the generosity of Africa towards the foreigner), but because of me: adapting to a new reality takes time, and I hate the condition of being a guest, needing help and direction, which never lessen my feeling of being useless and inconvenient to the unlucky people who have been chosen to take care of me, and who are forced to waste their precious time by repeating continuously superfluous instructions. The Fate doomed a teacher named Lucas for the task, a very kind and patient guy, who showed me my room, the common areas, and introduced me randomly some of the students and teachers that we encountered that night of Sunday the 16th of September 2007.
My answer to this terrible feeling of uselessness has been, as always, to show my good will to work or at least to pretend I’m doing something: wandering around the school with a quick pace, a huge fake smile or a concentrated expression saved me for some time, together with the excuse that I didn’t know the place, the people and my duties. But this method (which, by the way, can refine my acting skills) lasted the first two or three days, until I could bear the painful condition of feeling excluded, which leads to loneliness: the last days of the week I was basically alone. I cried several times in the safety of my room, and the first symptoms of depression didn’t wait to appear (though I suspect the contribution of the side effects caused by the malaria prevention).
picture 3. my room.
But the Man has many resources, and my instinct of survival made me go on, trying at least to enjoy the beauty of the things I know or I am sure about: my books were my favourite companions, and my eyes were still alive to be impressed by the colours of the Angolan nature, dryer than I expected, at least in this region. The typical Baobabs here are substituted by their relatives called “Imbonderos”, and despite the high humidity the vegetation barely grows over the infertile red sand, which doesn’t seem to appreciate, nor even care about the water of the first rains of the season. On the other hand, there are many birds here, the place is known for its beautiful orange-winged flamingos and for the variety of sparrows which proudly show their orange, blue, and yellow tails.
picture 4. I'm going to take a shower.
The mosquitoes are simply too many and too hungry. Mice, frogs and different kinds of lizards and insects complete my first impression of the flora and the fauna of the place. The night of my arrival the Headmaster Jesper terrified me about the risk of malaria and of poisonous snakes. I will talk about the sea and its environment later.
A nice surprise was represented by the Moon, which in this part of the World appears in a new dress: not anymore the typical human face (two eyes, a nose, a smile), but the figure of a woman with a baby in her arms; I will observe it. The sunset, instead, is typically African: a big warm planet of red gold that seems to watch the Old Continent with the wisdom and the respect of its age.
picture 5. the water tanks provided by UNICEF.
On Friday I heard the good news that I will give courses of English and other topics, that I will follow the installation and progress of the new computing system, and that I will take care of the school journal (the “Boletim”). My prayers have been heard. Perhaps I spoke too loud.
Proud of my new status (I even have to attend the teachers’ councils: although having done different jobs, I would never have thought in my life to end up as a teacher!), I regained some confidence and hope for the best, and I would like to conclude the account of this week with a poem that has accompanied the loneliness of my first days.
THE SONG OF WANDERING AENGUS
W.B. Yeats (1865-1939)
I went out to the hazel wood
Because I fire was in my head
And cut and peeled a hazel wand
And hooked a berry to a thread
And when white moths where on the wing
And moth-like starts were flickering out
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.
When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire a-flame
But something rustled on the floor
And someone called me by my name
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.
Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands
I will find out where she has gone
And kiss her lips and take her hands
And walk among long dappled grass
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.
O meu português está ainda atrasado, mas dia após dia vai melhorando, dando sinais positivos para o apreendimento futuro: com minha grande surpresa consegui dar um curso em português sobre o meu país em frente dum público de acerca de 40 estudantes.
o novo sistema informático da escola, e demorou por todos os três dias desde a quarta-feira até a sexta-feira. Muito cansativo, mas também válido. Pude gostar chá, café, bolachas e fruta, depois duas semanas baseadas sobre arroz, pão, feijões (que não posso comer nunca mais, depois que por duas vezes tinha corrido para a casa de banho mais rápido que um corredor profissional), e as vezes peixe – que amo particularmente. 
o novo sistema informático da escola, e demorou por todos os três dias desde a quarta-feira até a sexta-feira. Muito cansativo, mas também válido. Pude gostar chá, café, bolachas e fruta, depois duas semanas baseadas sobre arroz, pão, feijões (que não posso comer nunca mais, depois que por duas vezes tinha corrido para a casa de banho mais rápido que um corredor profissional), e as vezes peixe – que amo particularmente. 
correr e no mover-se, uma gazela na rapidez, uma leoa na força, na leveza dum mosquito.
