Since I the last edition of Tidemarks there have been quite a few interesting events, some of which deserve comment. Top of the list might be Minister Manuel’s budget speech, or perhaps the economic statistics suggesting slowing economies in Europe and the Far East. Then there was Joburg City’s call for tenders to supply a Human Capital Satisfaction Measurement Survey, and the news of the sale of a downtown city block for just R5.5m. This might sound low but would, in my view, far exceed the total value of the whole of the city (?) of Luanda, capital of Angola; a country from which I have just returned after trying to catch fish in the majestic waters of the Atlantic ocean.
The sea was almost the sole familiar thing about the whole visit. The rest of the place is wholly appalling, but nonetheless interesting. There is an explanation but no longer an excuse for the apparently deepening squalor and dilapidation. Many of us in South Africa are all too painfully aware that this land has suffered some of the continent’s most dreadful strife and bloodshed. But still the oil and natural wealth is failing to create any affluence for anyone outside of a very exclusive elite. The disintegrating and filthy airport is thronged with characters straight from the script of a bad movie about dirty deals and blatant corruption. I thought that the crumpled, sweat-stained linen jacket and crushed panama hat had died with the Graham Greene novel. The only hint that the times had changed was the cellphone jammed against the ear.
The crumbling roads are lined with the remains of horrific accidents involving totally unroadworthy vehicles. The minibus taxi that provided the three hour transfer to the fishing lodge had seats which were not fixed to the floor and a driver who never stopped drinking beer. Potholes in the tar stretch for hundreds of meters – and are almost as deep. Ironically for an oil producing nation, fuel is often difficult to find.
As in most places where the people have no expectation of anything from anyone – especially their government, there is an incredible flowering of commercial activity. The miles long traffic jams and absence of traffic lights have encouraged huge growth in the career of street vending. The only thing not on display for sale from the crush of humanity on both sides of every traffic lane, were stocks and shares. Actually, also missing, was any form of handiwork or craft – maybe because there is not yet any real tourist market in Angola. Nor is there likely to be.
The fishing lodge was fantastically located on an island in the middle of a deep and fast river that, just before it enters the sea, flows parallel to the surf line for several kms, separated from the ocean by a very narrow sand bar. Giant Tarpon infest the waters. The juveniles roll in the fresh water at one’s chalet door and the 60kg adults lurk in the deep sea crashing on to the beach just a hundred meters beyond.
But in five days I never caught a single one of them, so my human capital satisfaction measurement result is pretty low. But while I prepare my fishing kit for sale this weekend I will at least be able to watch the start of the Super 12 rugby season. And it’s one of those weekends when we are certain that at least two of the SA sides can’t lose.
It’s nice to be home.
James Greener
25th February 2005
