Giving Thanks

This year was my first Thanksgiving away from home so I was a little nervous that I would be homesick. It hasn't happened too much here, but once in a while, when the whole family is together or I see a picture on Facebook with all of my friends sharing a drink, I get that nagging feeling like I am missing out. Holidays are especially hard to be away from home. The familiar faces, smells, and tastes are not here, but the spirit of the day certainly was. Thanksgiving is about taking a moment to share a meal with those around you and appreciate all that you have. I feel forunate to live in a place where I am reminded every day of how blessed I am; not only for what is waiting for me when I get back - family, friends, a roof over my head, but what I have here. In this chaotic little pocket of the world we live in, where daily life is often frustrating and we are surrounded by suffering, friends are what keep us going. I have already said good-bye to so many people here who I can truly call friends, and in 2 weeks I will bid farewell to many more. If this nomadic lifestyle has taught me anything, it's that people are far more important than places. I have lived in beautiful locales and been terribly lonely and in crappy ones and have had the time of my life. I'll take the crappy places any day. The people are usually cooler.  

Happy Birthday, Marines!

Last Saturday, I had the privilege of attending the 237th Marine Birthday Ball. The event was hosted by the Marine Security Guard Detachment at our Embassy in Luanda. These 6 young men are an outstanding group of individuals who I am honored to call friends. Marines bravely protect our diplomats and classified information throughout the world....and they sure know how to throw a party!

SECRETARY CLINTON'S MESSAGE ON THE 237TH ANNIVERSARY OF THE US MARINE CORPS

On behalf of the entire Department of State family, I am honored to extend my warmest congratulations and best wishes to you, the brave men and women of the U.S. Marine Corps, on the Corps' 237th birthday. "In every clime and place," Marines have repeatedly demonstrated

their valor and dedication to service; many have given the last full measure of devotion in defense of our liberty and freedom. To every Marine - those currently in uniform and those who have proudly worn it in the past - we thank you for your sacrifices, your courage, and your service to this country we all love.

This celebration provides all of us in the Department of State a special opportunity to acknowledge and thank all of the Marines who are serving and have served alongside our diplomatic personnel around the world. The Marine security guards in our embassies, consulates, and missions play a vital role in providing internal security to our facilities and vigilance over classified government information and equipment. These Marines do not just stand at "Post One" - they stand for the United States. In my travels, I have met many of our Marine security guards, and I am ceaselessly impressed by the manner in which they represent our country. We are likewise grateful to the many other Marines who even now are detailed to protect our facilities and personnel in volatile regions. For those you protect, it is a comfort to them to know that you are standing post, enhancing their safety and security, and enabling the vital work of our diplomatic and development professionals in a dangerous world.

Our Marine friends and colleagues have met unique challenges in supporting the Department, and they have - without exception - responded bravely and effectively.

They have responded to natural disasters, civil unrest, and violent attacks. They have defended the integrity of our facilities and worked courageously to save human life. I want to commend specifically the actions of Marines during recent incidents at our facilities throughout the world. Despite the dangers, their actions directly contributed to the safety of U.S. government personnel at these embassies, proving once again that every Marine lives the Corps' credo, "Semper Fidelis" - always faithful.

I join the entire State Department family, and indeed the entire country, in thanking all Marines, and especially those who have served and continue to serve side by side with the Department abroad, for selflessly performing their mission every single day and for being a Marine. We salute you and your work, today and every day.

Happy 237th birthday, Marines! Semper Fi!

*Special thanks go out to my favorite Marine, who is guarding the US Embassy in Yerevan, Armenia. As we all sat around the table and raised a glass, the Gunnery Sergeant remarked, "It takes a special kind of woman to love a Marine." Cheers to that! 

I Swear I'm Not a Witch

Until you have to explain the concept of Halloween and the things we do to celebrate it to a foreigner, you never realize how weird it is. While teaching international students in Boston and Miami, this was one of my favorite times of year. I would do Halloween-related activities all week and tell my students that wearing a costume to school was mandatory. It was awesome. My students were always a bit apprehensive about it. They didn't believe me that adults wore costumes until they went out to the bars the weekend of Halloween and witnessed it for themselves. The slutty nurse costumes were particularly disturbing to the Muslim students, but even they rolled with it.
In Angola, it's a different story entireley. I'm not on my home turf here and Halloween was not welcomed with open arms, to say the least. In a culture where witchcraft is still very much alive and well, they do not take kindly to dressing up like ghosts and decorating houses with tombstones. It hits a little too close to home. A couple weeks ago, I introduced my university students to Halloween with a short story about a couple of kids who went trick or treating, but stumbled upon a haunted house. "Teacher, I don't like this story," was the first reaction I got. Then the questions started. Why do you celebrate this? What is the history? Do religious people celebrate Halloween? I tried and tried to convey the idea that it's only for fun and it really doesn't mean anything and that it's not a religious holiday, but my efforts were in vain. One student looked up the word Halloween in his Portuguese-English dictionary. The translation was Dia dos Santos (Day of Saints). That definitely didn't help my cause. I felt completely defeated as the students half-heartedly completed their assignments, keeping an eye on their heretical teacher who was unsuccessfully trying to immerse them in some sort of pagan ritual.
The following week, I was asked to give a presentation about American culture to a group of high school students. The topic - Halloween. This time I was prepared. I knew about this event a few weeks in advance and since I had just traveled to the US, I picked up some Halloween candy to bring back with me. From what I have witnessed, most of public diplomacy involves giving stuff to people so that they like us, and by association, our country. So I followed suit. After a brief presentation where I showed pictures of jack-o-lanterns and cute kids dressed up like clowns and super heroes, I let the candy flow. As soon as they had mini packets of Skittles and individually wrapped Reese's peanut butter cups in their hands, they were fully on board with Halloween. I made everyone say "trick or treat" before reaching into the plastic cauldron, which was purely for my amusement, as they had no idea what they were saying.
The presentation also happened to be the day after the presidential election in the US, so I brought eleciton activity books that were sent to us from DC. Luckily, there was a page with my favorite activity - coloring! The students gently unwrapped their Starbursts and carefully filled in the Statue of Liberty's torch with a yellow crayon, and I thought, maybe this is how we get the rest of the world to like us -  bags of fun-sized candy and boxes of Crayolas. I might be on to something here.

Election Fever (Again)

As you would imagine, Barack Obama is extremely popular around here for reasons that are completely superficial. Most of my students are certain that he was born in Africa but are less sure about the specific country. Needless to say, they were very excited about the outcome of last week's election. When I went to school on Wednesday, Angolans kept saying "congratulations!" oblivious to the fact that almost half of Americans were not feeling particularly congratulatory that day. At the embassy as well, there was an overall assumption that everyone who walked through those doors was "on our side," meaning that Obama is the second coming and Romney is the devil. In passing, people said things like, "good news, huh?" or "we really dodged a bullet there!" I've never discussed politics with my colleagues, so why do they think we are all on the same team? Maybe we are. Maybe we're not. The point is that the assumption is disturbing and leads me to believe there is little to no real political discourse going on within the State Department. It's Obama's biggest fan club and if you don't want to join, then you better keep quiet or you'll be labeled an outcast, or even worse a Republican. Oh, the horror!

Ambassador McMullen

On Tuesday afternoon, we invited young Angolans to the embassy for an election night party. We organized a mock election in which Obama won 29-1. Considering no one in the room had ever even heard of Romney, it didn't come as a shock. I am pretty sure the 1 vote for Romney came from a young woman who asked me to translate the candidate profile sheet about him. When I told her he was a businessman, she exclaimed, "Oooh I like that!"

So who's this Mitt guy?

as transparent as it gets 

Coming and Going

I’m sorry Angola, but the US is just better. The past 8 months that I have spent in Angola is the longest period of time I’ve been out of the US. While other trips abroad, especially those to developing countries, really made me appreciate home, this experience has brought that appreciation to a whole new level. I found myself smiling to myself as I drove my own car to the grocery store. I gazed at the autumn leaves and the clear, blue sky. It was just your regular run-of-the-mill suburban side street, but to me, it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. The fact that I was able to hop in my car and go to Stop & Shop because I was really craving pumpkin spice creamer for my coffee, was just about the most amazing feat I could imagine. Upon arriving at the pristine store, full of shiny produce and clearly marked aisles, I became overwhelmed. Just like my first time at an Angolan grocery store, I walked around aimlessly, paralyzed by shock and awe. I didn’t put anything in my cart. I think this is what they call reverse culture shock. Unlike my Angolan shopping experience, where I felt lost and confused because I didn’t see anything remotely edible, this time there were too many things I wanted. I wanted it all. I went home and caught up on the DVR and just thought “Wow, this country is awesome,” and I couldn’t understand why I ever left such an amazing place.

The reason for my return was to attend my brother’s wedding; therefore, much of the week leading up to the big day was about pampering myself. Somewhere around the 4^th or 5^th month of being here, I started to let myself go. No makeup, pedicures, or highlights. I haven’t seen my blow dryer in ages and even started wearing flip flops to work. Before arriving back in the States, I made an absurd amount of beauty appointments – mani/pedi, facial, massage, haircut and color, eyebrow wax, you name it, I had it done. At the wedding, all my family and friends kept saying how great I looked. "­Oh, thanks," I humbly replied, but what I really wanted to say was, "I know! It took all week to look this good!"

The day before leaving for Angola, as my sister and I relaxed on the couch, I said "I can't imagine physically being back there." It seemed like a another world, another life. I was back to my real life, with my family and my friends who have known me for years, and I loved it.  Don't get me wrong, coming here has been one of the best decisions I have ever made and I like my life here too, but nothing compares to home. So now I'm back, and like most things, the idea of it was worse than the reality. Since it took 3 days to get here, I was more than delighted to be "home" when I finally landed in Luanda. I spent the weekend catching up with friends and sleep. Now it's Monday and it feels like I never left.





* I have to give a special shout out to my #1 fan and new dad, Jimmy Riel. I'm looking forward to awkwardly holding Molly again.

Angolan Road Trip - Part 4

Muxima

A few weeks ago, my friends and I decided to get out of the city for the day and head down to a little town on the Kwanza River. Muxima (Moo-she-ma) is home to a 16th century Catholic church built by the Portuguese. The Church of Our Lady of Conception is the site of an annual pilgrimage that has occurred every September since 1883. Families flock to the site and camp out on the banks of the river to get a chance to pray to the statue of Mary or "Mama Muxima." Women are especially attracted to this sacred site because Mama Muxima is said to bring fertility to those who pray to her. Judging by the fact that every woman in this country has a baby strapped to her back, I don't think fertility is an issue here, but what do I know?

The mass held outside of the church. There were too many people to fit inside the small, colonial church. 

We arrived to the church just in time to catch the end of the outdoor mass, which featured lively music and lots of enthusiastic pilgrims. The priest walked through the crowd spraying holy water on the congregation as those in the back fought to get closer so that they could feel a drop on their heads. When they did, they turned around and made way for others, a look of absolute joy on their faces as they sang the hymns at the top of their lungs. Growing up in the Catholic church, these rituals were not new to me, but I have never seen people so genuinely excited about holy water.
Angola is a fairly religious country, but I haven't quite figured it out yet. 47% of Angolans practice indigenous beliefs, 38% are Roman Catholic, and 15% Protestant. The Portuguese built churches while they ruled the country, but that was pretty much the extent of the Catholic influence. After independence, Protestant missionaries flooded the country. It seems to me that many Angolans have a adopted a sort of hybrid religion that combines indigenous beliefs with fundamentalist Christianity. When I ask students what they did over the weekend, they say things like "I was spreading the good word." or "I was in the church." The whole weekend?
One time, a student told me that some people are racist because they think that black people came from monkeys. I responded, "Well that doesn't make any sense because all people came from monkeys." Big mistake. "No teacher! People came from God!" The class began to stir and I realized that most of them did not believe in evolution and they were probably thinking that there teacher was a heathen. "So let's talk about  the present perfect!"

Mama Muxima statue

After mass, we set up a little tailgate in the church parking lot. Three women approached us and asked us if they could have a ride to a town that was on the way back to Luanda. Sure! Why not? All the female pilgrims, including our new hitch hiker friends were wearing wrap skirts with either the Virgin Mary or Jesus on them and T-shirts that had a picture of the statue and the words "Mama Muxima" on the back. A pilgrim uniform of sorts. Not wanting to feel left out, we asked them where one could buy such items. They led us to an area by the river and we were immediately surrounded by Mama Muxima merchandise - key chains, necklaces, shirts, hats, you name it. Like a rock concert, but for the Virgin Mary. We bought a few items that the ladies picked out for us and they insisted that we don them immediately. They were kind of enough to wrap Derek (above) in a beautiful Mama Muxima frock. I rocked my Mary concert T for the rest of the day and got several compliments. 

We all hopped in the car and headed back to the city. Our three new friends in the backseat. One of the women asked if we had any soda so I directed her to the cooler in the back. When she opened it she said, "Ooooh cerveja (beer)!" Hey, go for it. So there we were - driving down the road with three beer-chugging pilgrims. Weirdest Sunday funday ever.

Cabo Ledo

Not a bad scene to wake up to

Two hours south of the city lies a beautiful, pristine beach called Cabo Ledo. One the way down there last weekend, we stopped in a little fishing village to pick up some lobsters. After negotiating a price, a man swam out to the traps to collect our dinner. It doesn't get any fresher than that. I felt like Anthony Bourdain. After we set up camp, we threw those suckers on the fire. I ripped the head off with my hands and dipped the tail in melted butter. It was deliciously primal.

Even though I slept on the ground and mistakenly used a tent cover as a sleeping bag (maybe had one too many cervejas), it was the best sleep I've had in weeks. No incessant hum from the generators or club music thumping and rattling my window. I woke up not to the slamming of doors and yelling of the house staff but to the soft crash of waves and a warm breeze. It was the perfect way to start the day and re-energize for yet another week in the concrete jungle. 

The Meltdown

I could feel it coming. I started pacing around my room as my head became flooded with anxiety and frustration. The stress of many weeks piling up inside until there was no more room and it had to come out. I could feel my face becoming warm and flush, and then…the meltdown.

It was a Thursday night. I had just waited outside the embassy for the driver for 40 minutes. Each time I called him he was “5 minutes away.” If he wasn’t such a pathological liar I would have gone back inside so that I could avoid the local guards gawking at me in my gym attire. While standing on that sidewalk, I realized that I probably spend at least half of my time here in car, waiting for a car, or on the phone trying to get a car.
I finally arrived home to a house that had no electricity or water for the second day in a row. The new security guard, who I am almost certain is blind, told me that he had to call someone to get permission to turn the generator on. I watched an episode of Curb of Your Enthusiasm. There’s nothing like the extreme neurosis of others to bring you back down to earth. The power had come back on during the show, but still no water. Having not taken a shower that morning and working out that evening, the need for bathing was becoming imminent.

I decided I would cook, which is a relaxing activity for me. I walked downstairs to find that one of my housemates had completely taken over the kitchen. “Jim,” who has a wife and 4 young daughters at home in the UK was whipping up a meal while his Angolan girlfriend was perched on a stool watching him. Isn’t that cute?

“Hi Brigid,” she said. “Oh hey, (home wrecker).”

I hate cooking with other people in the kitchen and especially despise being in the company of these two so I pretended to grab something out of the fridge and headed back upstairs. I called the maintenance guy to ask about the water situation, and he informed me that the tanks would not be filled until the following day. Luckily, there is another staff house down the street so I threw my shampoo, conditioner, and soap in a plastic bag, grabbed a towel and headed outside. The street was exceptionally dark since the power was out and I needed the guard to escort me. Of course, he was nowhere to be found. The guard at the restaurant next door must have sensed my helplessness and offered assistance. I enjoyed a hot shower and walked back to my house in my pajamas and a towel on my head. I mean at this point, who do I have to impress?

I arrived home to find the formerly missing guard slumped over in a chair sleeping. He was wearing 1 boot and 1 flip flop. I can rest easy tonight knowing this man is responsible for my personal safety.  The adulterer and his mistress were still occupying the kitchen. It was getting close to 8:00 and I still had not eaten dinner so I was famished, but that was still better than having to share space with this couple. You know what I need? I thought. A beer. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. And then I remembered that I had some potato chips in the cupboard in my room. Ok, so beer and potato chips for dinner it is. I sat on my bed, mediocre Angolan lager in one hand and the other one deep in the bag of chips. It felt amazing for about 5 minutes but then reality set in. Oh dear, is this really happening? I called my boyfriend on Skype and just started crying and saying “I want to go home” as I licked the crumbs off my greasy fingers.  He stared back at me, trying to make sense of the scene before him, but had no idea what to say. He now thinks I am completely crazy.

Sometimes you just have one of those days when everything seems to go wrong and you snap. It can happen to anyone at anytime, but here, that could pretty much happen every day. No one wants to be that person who is constantly complaining, so you have to be patient and let a lot of stuff go and figure out a way to cope and stay positive. Apparently, my way of coping is bottling everything up for 7 months until I erupt.