Tuesday, November 11, 2008

BREAK-WALL

What do you do when you don't have class to teach, the power is out and the internet isn't working? You go surfing with the locals.

Sao Tome has quite a distinct swell season and I arrived here right at its close back in September. I seem to have a knack for this, having once also missed the opening of a Solomon Islands swell season by about two weeks. Oh well, when you are a poor student you go when you can and hope for the best, so far its always been worth the trip even without surf.

Nonetheless, the fact that I have only about four weeks left in Sao Tome and have only managed one surf weighs in the back of my mind. So when I woke this morning and saw the swell was up a bit, I figured today might be one of my last chances to catch a few more waves with some local kids. When the power and internet went out too, I didn't even bother to wait for high tide at lunchtime. Instead I went and explored the back side of the airport runway where I have seen the kids of the village Praia Larxoa, not Praia Gamboa which I had confused it with, bodyboarding in the beach break.

It has been raining here a lot lately, and of course being the tropics, when it rains it pours. Today shaped up to be another wet day. Almost all day there were rumbles and flashes of light emanating from the black and blue cloud mass rolling towards us from Cameroon. When I left the house to go explore this morning, the air was unusual with a slight chill and the ground was sodden from the previous night's downpour. I walked past the 4-6 women who clean clothes daily in the brackish water of a small stream at the end of our street. Past the pigs that chew the faded and crumpled aluminium cans of the small dump site that is also at the end of our road. I jumped over a few large stagnant puddles and walked into the over head bright green grass that has exploded in colour and height since the rains started this month. I followed the narrow path through the grass until it abruptly ended at the edge of the airport runway, I looked both ways and walked across the rough tarmac feeling the heat through my warn sandals - one of which the new puppy had a go at last night. Back into the grass on the other side of the runway and I embarked down a single mud path that I am familiar with from walking the dog. Ever mindful of the 2m long Cobras that lurk here (the only poisons snake on the island and introduced?) I cut my way through the wet grass until the familiar black lava rock boulders of the runway's far outer break-wall appeared.

Usually, this side of the airport is quiet except for the odd plane engine, the breaking surf and the birds. Today however, I could hear voices and when I jumped out of the grass onto the lava rocks, I was startled to see, and I'm sure they were equally as startled to see me, a group of 6 teenagers chilling out on the lava watching clean two foot right-hand peelers tear down the side of the runway break-wall. After a friendly introduction , these guys, the sons of local fishermen, told me that these waves were about average 'normal' for this end of the Island. Behind me, in the distance and back towards the beach that curves out and away from the runway break-wall, I could see a group of about 5 meninos (boys) bodyboarding in the beach break. I often walk this end of the beach/break-wall and watch the kids body surf the slushy waves in the distance. Today though, the waves were actually surfable (just), both at the break-wall and down at the beach though they looked better at the break-wall.

Apparently, I wasn't the only one who thought so too. About ten minutes after I first bumped into the teenagers on the lava rocks, a group of four meninos, probably between twelve and fifteen years old, showed up with their boards (Mike, they call them Tambuas also and they are clearly cut from the bottoms of discarded fishing canoes). The teenagers and I had moved to the very end of the break-wall to get a better look at the swell coming in - by this stage I had managed in very broken Portuguese to explain that I surfed. This posse of young grommets came to meet us, bounding down the lava rock carrying their boards on their heads like a row of ants dressed in coloured Y fronts that seemed brighter than they actually were, contrasted against their black skin and the grey light from a cloudy sky. They jumped straight past the white guy and his teenage amigos and into the swell.

I sat with the teenagers and we cheered these surfers on as they paddled into clean two footers on their wood boards. The waves seemed to be getting better, so after ten minutes I ran the grass gauntlet back to the house, changed and grabbed my board. When I got back, two of the surfers had got out but I jumped in with the remaining two, Preto and Jacque. I got about two waves before the swell literally disappeared - very strange. The kids seemed to be trying to explain that it was because of the giant black rain cloud that was rapidly approaching and was nearly on us. However, the wind was still good and the water glassy???? I suppose stranger things have happened, especially in voodoo societies like this one.

We paddled in and as I was getting out I realised I had ripped a fin clean off my board. There were some large boulders not too far under the surface and I guess I nicked one on one of my two waves??? The spot wasn't exactly the deepest I've surfed...

I explained to all the kids that I lived close by and that I was here in STP for the next month so hopefully there will be a few more sessions at the break-wall. There is certainly no lack of surf stoke on this small island and the fact that kids can be found surfing these beat up wooden Tambuas at both the southern and northern ends of the Island suggests this tradition is well established and might go way back into the Island's history. I like the thought that occasionally back in the Island's slavery days a few kids might have been able to sneak off and enjoy a bit of freedom in the ocean even if the rest of their lives were so viciously oppressed - think Article 24 UDHR, importante and most of us take it for granted every day.

Sunday, November 2, 2008

VOTE

A quick update before rolling through into the real subject of this blog, 'voting'. I have about 5 weeks in STP left. The last few weeks have been good, I am really getting the hang of the motorcycle and I feel more confident amongst the insane traffic. Particularly now that I have bought a helmet! This has allowed for some fun exploring of back roads and paths. I have however been suffering from a stomach bug, probably just travellers gastro etc - Luke, you can take your finger off speed dial. Bit of a pain though as I can't quite seem to shake it completely and it has forced my hand on what, I suppose, is a risky decision; to stop taking my Malaria meds. I have been throwing back doxcycline anti-malaria tablets everyday since I have been here and these make my stomach uneasy. Laura once offered to give me a lift to the airport before I flew to the Solomon Islands. She arrived to find me puking my guts out after having made the mistake of taking one of those little suckers without having had food first..... Part of the reason I have made this decision is that I have a sneaking suspicion that these pills are in fac the culprit. They have likely killed every last living bit of good bacteria that I had in my guts and I am now suffering the repercussions. So, I will break out the bug spray and tuck in under the mosquito net a little more than usual. My computer keyboard also started playing up the the other day and I lost the use of a few vital keys. After a phone call, a motorbike ride, a rendezvous, and a 10 minute walk from the road side into the bush, my jungle guide entered his forest house only to return holding a keyboard with a usb plug - problem solved.... It is amazing what you can find in the strangest of places... By the way, if you have access to Google earth and want to see where I live, the quadrants are: 0 22'27.58" N and 6 43'02.23" E. I am the last house on the right (SE) hand side of the road immediately before the airport runway. There is a peer from the house that heads out into the bay. A little ways down from where I am you should be able to see the old Connie cargo planes from the Biafra war and the footy pitch.

Anyway. I have been trying to vote of late and it has not been easy.

Churchill is famous for, amongst other things, having said 'Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all those other forms that have been tried from time to time.' Well, with regard to elections, he is probably right as Democracies are no better at insuring 'free and fair elections' now then they were then. Arguably they are worse. My old man would certainly argue this. When I was in the US last, my father and I, on the day of the Democratic Convention in Denver where my parents live, were approached by two separate groups of happy and excited 13-14 year olds. Given the days importance their teacher had decided it would be a good day for getting the kids to find out peoples' views of a 'working democracy'. I chose to explain MMP, in part because I understand it better than the chaos of the US system. My dad chose to tell the kids that America 'wasn't a Democracy', that 'someone had stolen America's Democracy', namely 'George W Bush'' and the 2001 Florida debacle is a case in point. This might sound like a blunt and rather bubble bursting answer to a bunch of kids but as my Mum can attest, they got off lightly. If you ask my dad about US democracy, you are lucky not to hear the protracted definition of a 'military republic' suffering from megalomania....

Despite this, I think my dad has already voted and I have too, but it wasn't easy. I tried so hard to vote for two reasons, 1) I think Churchill was right... its the system we have and not much else works too well, and 2) because I am one of the worlds few who can vote in two elections, one of which may (or may not) effect the outcome of the US Presidential race. However, having the right to vote and actually being able to vote, even during supposedly free and fair elections, are two different things. This is particularly the case with absentee ballots, both those from NZ and the US - though as always, the US bureaucratic voting system outdoes its Pacific amigo substantially. Being 'absentee' on a small Island off the west coast of Africa that few people have heard of compounds the difficulty even further.

But let me set the seen for my latest absentee voting experience first. Being in Sao Tome during the US election has actually been a pretty interesting reminder of the kind of hope America 'can' instil in foreigners - I know this sounds cheesy but its true. For the last eight years at least it has been rare for me to hear positive things spoken about the US. In fact, in most countries I have been to, including NZ, waving a US passport or telling people you are an American is a good way to get scathing looks or worse. Unfortunately when your accent is like mine there is little you can do - other than wave your NZ passport. In Sao Tome, things are a bit different. Sao Tomeans are not naive, they know the evils of George Bush and those presidents that came before him, but they also know that the US has the ability to affect major change here.

On this tiny little Island where few people speak English, people are genuinely excited about Obama. He has become a staple conversation point of my taxi rides, there are Obama signs in peoples' front gardens (well in their trees and on their walls) and bumper-stickers on the backs of cars, just like in the US. Admittedly, there aren't many, and I haven't seen a McCain one yet but the 'campaign' is here nonetheless. Part of this is I am sure, just timing, its hard to ignore this election. Part is the old appeal of the US, the 'perception' of opportunity, glamour, fame, riches and wealth, in huge part promoted here through American Hip-hop. Part of it is shear pragmatism, this is a poor country and the US is the worlds largest supplier of aid. Not to mention the US likes oil and STP might have some so it is better to have a US president who is less trigger happy and more friendly to development assistance. I feel like there is a third part though, perhaps something more universal.

It is possible being in the environment that I am in, I have blown this out of proportion a bit, but, the world is in a bad way at the moment. There are big wars and little wars that just keep burning away with nothing to stop them. There is an international food crisis (since I have been here, STP's stores have run out of rice, flour and Salt). The planet is sick and we don't seem to be able to conjure the guts to do anything about it and, our 'world' economy just blew a head gasket. The accumulative effect seems to me to be that for the first time in a while, just about everybody has something bigger to worry about, I mean even Wall St CEOs seem worried. So, no matter who you are (bar a very few), there is a 400 pound gorilla in the back of your room and you can feel his eyes on the back of your skull almost like they were one of his big hairy fingers.

For this reason I think Obama and the 'change' he claims to represent is as important to some Aericans as it is to many Sao Tomeans and any body else who is having a hard time of it right now. I know STP still wants its time in the sun too and it needs help getting it, so to do a lot of other countries and people. Whether Obama can actually deliver any of these peoples hopes, I doubt it, but I'd like to see him try so he gets my vote - not that there was much of an alternative. Helen on the other hand, well, she doesn't quite inspire this kind of hope but the circumstances are different. Having said this her party will get half my vote and the Greens the other. Why is pretty simple. I'd like to have a planet to live on and oceans to surf in for the rest of my life and I like parties that actually have innovative and interesting policies, National has offered nothing but revamps of labour policy and the same old neo-liberal crap that got the world economy into the mess its in - finito.

But how do I get my votes counted from little old STP. Well the NZ system was actually pretty easy in the short term. I went online, double checked I was registered and downloaded my voting papers. I got those printed at the office here and filled them in. There were only 2 weeks from the time the NZ absentee ballot went up and the time it had to be in - not enough time to mail a ballot from a country that has one mail flight a week. This meant my only option for returning my ballot was to fax it back to NZ which meant I had to find a fax. After a few seconds I remembered that I had, by accident, met the head of the giant Voice of America radio station that is here in town about a month ago. He had said I should come out and have a look at the station sometime. I figured this large US military like instalation would have a fax and they might let me use it for free.

I jumped on the motorbike and about 15 minutes later, out of town on the east coast, I had arrived at the guard post where I spent about 10 minuets trying to negotiate my way in. This eventually worked but only because I told them I worked with STeP UP which they know as STeP UP's director is ex US Peace Corp. Once in I went down a long road surrounded by mowed green grass and a few palm trees. Towering above me were the 15 plus red and white radio towers scattered around the 300 hectares or so of the compound. With all the cables strung between these towers they look like giant bird nets. Even though I was in the compound I still had to go through another fenced section which required negotiating another guard booth - here they searched my bag and I could see the mirror used to search under cars for bombs etc. Once they had determined I wasn't a terrorist, they walked me to the main building entrance with my entry tag swinging from my neck. This place is completely self contained with its own power supply, desalination plant, housing etc.... Its a fairly odd place to visit when most places you have seen for the last few months are barely bigger than a shack, have no amenities and are dilapidated. The compound's main building has white floors and walls, there is the constant hum of the generator, its clean, there is air-conditioning, it looks sterile, the doors are fire and blast proof and GW is framed and on the walls surrounded by the red white and blue, and the national seal. The managers office is easy to find and eventually I was sitting in a leather couch asking about a fax. I have to say sitting in that office is the first time I have ever felt that I might have been in the presence of a CIA spook...

Turns out, they don't use faxes because they are slow and not secure - duhhhh (the fax has always struck me as a now obsolete invention). The mighty American base was too advanced for my archaic fax requirements. I jumped back on the motorbike, went through security and left for town. The next day, I found a fax at the telecommunications building and was thwarted a second time by a countrywide telecommunications failure. Back the next day, and third time lucky, I got my vote to NZ for about $1.25 US.

For a US general election (as far as I have been able to work out), you generally have to register to vote even if you had registered to vote before and none of your details had changed. With an Absontee ballot its the same. You go online, download a registration form (the right one for your state and for an overseas absentee ballot). You fill this in and mail it back which takes weeks. If you did everything right (there is a lot of crap you can get wrong), you might get your ballot in the mail a day or two before you have to vote. Well, I had a hard time downloading the registration form here and ultimately ended up missing my states deadline for registration. So, I had at that stage, given up on my chance to vote in the US election. More frustratingly was that when I had been at the VOA base for my NZ vote, I was offered a US ballot and the chance to vote right there but because I wasn't registered I couldn't. Then about the day I got my NZ vote off, my brother emailed and said a US ballot had arrived for me in NZ??????? I still have no idea how this happened as I haven't reregistered succesfully!!!! But the fact that there was a legit ballot there meant I was registerd somewhere, the only prob was the distance between me and my ballot. So, I jumped on the bike and went back out to VOA and grabbed one of those ballots. However, the US Embassy rep from Libraville had flown in the day before and collected all the cast absontee ballots from the base, I would have to fill mine out and fax it directly to Colorado's electoral office. As VOA didn't have a fax, it was back to the telecommunications centre in town.

Well, I successfully sent my US vote today. All in all it just took a shit load of perseverance and driving around on the motorbike. Now I just have to hope they actually count my vote and I guess I'll never know the answer to that.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

FOOTBALL & DUST

Football is the sport of choice here and there is a pitch just down the street from where I live. A few weekends ago I was asked to play with the team that Danny the NGO driver plays for. I figured this would be a fun way to spend a Sunday afternoon and appreciated being asked. The games are played around 3:30pm so the temperature is not too bad (by local standards) and there is still good light for a few hours. So, I traded my jandals for my running shoes and wandered off down the street towards the football pitch.

Our street is a centre of activity in its own right. In the mornings groups of little kids can be seen walking to and from school in their simple blue uniforms. Still, more local kids - perhaps the less fortunate - can be seen on the street at all hours of the day, playing all sorts of games. Sometimes I see them on these cool home made wooden skateboards (with wooden wheels), hogging the few short stretches of road, sidewalk or drive that are flat and not broken. Outside of the kids, the street is a stage for girlfriends and boyfriends, arguments between neighbours, passers-by, locals coming and leaving home and an abundance of roaming dogs, pigs, goats, chickens and cats.

The street itself is in disrepair with large sections more dirt, rock and pothole then pavement. Strangely, the four or five concrete speedbumps are in much better condition - perhaps added later. The street side is filled with homes, some wealthy and walled, others the simple Sao Tomean wooden huts. Commerce here revolves around some small fruit and veggie stalls a small store and a tiny alcohol shop with a steel cage around its front which includes a patio of elevated concrete about two meters by half a meter. During the evenings this caged concrete patio is usually filled with two or three half drunk local youth or men. There is also a mechanics shop about halfway down - the owner gave me some old STP licence plates which I will sell to an Australian collector. At the very end of the street just before it meets the road to town, there is alos a restaraunt/hotel. Everything is covered in dust, and this turns to a fine layer of mud when it rains.

The football pitch is down a small gravel lane that turns north off the street. As you enter the lane there is a high wall on your left and the rusty frame of a car on your right. This has been leant against a tree and an equally rusted corrugated Iron fence. Ahead and to the left is the footy pitch - it is rarely empty of people. The far goal posts back onto a rubbish tip though it is I suppose more like the rubbish tip backs onto the pitch. Behind this is a defunct fence and the grass surrounding the international airport and the arrivals building. At the left hand corner of the field, adjacent to the tip is an old four-prop, tri-tail-wing cargo plane - a Lockheed Super Constellation or a 'Connie'. This has had a building built up into the planes fuselage. Right behind it is another Connie and both now serve as a restaurant!

These old Connies have an interesting story. In the late 60's early 70's Nigeria was engulfed by the Biafran War - the country's south eastern corner, home to the Igbo, decided to secede from the country. The war is known for having led to serious food shortages and for this to have had a horrific impact on Igbo children; so much so that Biafran children were long those brought to mind when discussions of famine and starvation were raised. It is thought that up to 2 million people may have died from starvation and war. Eventually the Nigerian federal forces surrounded the Biafran separatist state and cut it off from any supply routs - in fact they cut it in half at one stage. This meant supplies could only be delivered by air. So, in 1968, the Red Cross with the help of the Catholic Church (Caritas) and Joint Church Aid began to fly aid to Biafra from the then Portuguese colony of Sao Tome using a mixed fleet of outdated planes like the Connies and some DC6s and DC7s. These would fly to and land in Biafra at night, unload their cargo, turn around, and fly back to Sao Tome. In 1969, one of the planes was shot down by a Nigerian MIG ending the Red Cross participation but the church funded flights continued right up to the end of the war. Apparently, so outdated, the Connies were then left to languish in the equatorial heat of STP and two are still here today. A cool little piece of bizarre history that makes the football field sooo much cooler.

Anyway, back to the football. There are so many local kids that want to play and the field is sooo small, that there have been some adaptations made. First, teams are only 8 or 9 a side and second, it is always golden goal. This way, there can be four or five teams, all in their motley mix of colours, and each gets a go as the loosing team comes off and the new team faces off the previous games winner. Some games are short, some are long but everyone gets to play. There is of course no ref either. This has the benefit of few hollywoods, and the distinct disadvantage of leading to very rough football, pushing, shouldering, ankle chops pretty much all count as fair game - if someone goes down you can pretty well guarantee they are actually hurting. In my first game one guy got tackled at high speed while trying to cross the ball into the box - he went flying into the rubbish tip - broken-glass, rusty metal, snakes etc.... When he didn't get up people went over to help him up and walk him to the sideline. He was given some of what Ned told me is called ''r'odka' - sugar cane spirits - and left to nurse his wounds while the game continued. While there are few 'amazingly' talented kids in the local neighbourhood, their general ball skills are good. This is likely the result of playing on a pitch which is about as level as George W Bush's notion of trade. As you move from east to west across the pitch you leave behind the sandy, pebbly, slightly less undulating side and progress to the more undulating patchy untrimmed grass which hides what appears to be a rock vein of some sort that cuts diagonally across the west side of the pitch.

I have been asked to play every weekend since that first game - which is a nice feeling - maybe there is just a lot more novelty in me playing than I think??? I guess football will once again become a weekly event for me. The fitness is good and the games keep getting better. At the moment I can hold my own with these guys - for about the first half an hour. Unfortunately after that, the heat and fact that a good 60% of my body's hydration seems to have migrated to my shirt, socks and shorts means I get pretty slow after that.... Last weekend on Saturday we played at a different pitch off the main road. This time the pitch was much flatter, entirely dirt and had a giant acacia tree right in its middle - the branches of which nearly covered the entire pitch. Needless to say its roots and trunk provided an interesting obstacle. More bizarre than the skeletons of Biafran Connies was that the pitch was actually the courtyard for about 10 dilapidated casas that were built as slave quarters for the plantation that we were on - each still with their colonial era tile roofs and white stucko walls now splatered with mud. The next day, we travelled farther and played against the Sao Tomean army on a close to proper pitch (it even had a small section of stands). This was right in the middle of the military base on the hill overlooking the city. We lost 4 nil to a side that started off playing topless and barefoot and finished covered in a fine red dust head to toe. I must have looked pretty strange as I was the only Branco on the pitch.

Anyway, I have come to the ultimate conclusion that who ever said 'everyone understands football' was right.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

DEVELOPMENT STP STYLE

A few of you have asked about the development 'needs' of Sao Tome and Principe STP. So, I figured maybe my next blog should offer a view of some of these issues, all be it one that is limited by the digital looking glass of a blog and my limited experiance of the country. I won't offer any grand ideas on how to fix these problems, I'll just fill you in on what they are and what others have said. Where I can I'll direct you to others who have offered solutions. The read through should give you an idea of the place too.

Infrastructure, transport & services
Relative to the fishing villages I have seen and the few homes I have visited and been into here in the city, I live in comfort. I have running water, power and wireless internet (though it is more like bad dial up). Most Sao Tomeans clearly do not have these services. Even those that do must suffer fairly regular service failures. On average the power will go out twice a week, sometimes more sometimes less. Obviously, if the power goes the internet goes and so too does the water if it is pumped.

Power here is derived from diesel burning plants (the vast majority) and a small Hydro plant - believe it or not. Oil comes from Angola at a subsidised rate - I believe this is a hang over from the communist days - both countries used to be communist (African style). The power company I believe is also state controlled. Oil must come in regularly as there is no such thing as an emergency or strategic reserve here. If Angola decided to turn off the flow, or ran out of oil, the power here would go. Unsurprisingly, the demand for power here also outstrips the capacity and therefor part of the reason why the power goes out is because they have rolling blackouts in order to share the power around. If you are lucky, like I am, you live in an area where an important minister or the PM live and these blackouts are few, limited to the evenings or don't happen. Most Sao Tomeans cook with Charcoal - from the rapidly disappearing large rain-forest trees. Or if you can afford it imported Angolan Gas.

Obviously, while internet and power services are for those who can pay, water is provided through a surprisingly large number of communal water collection points attachd to a water grid and scattered not only around the city but as far down south as Angolares which is the last major town before you get to Porto Alegre where I surfed. These mean most people have access to relatively clean water (I'm not sure if this is treated but its not downstream river water which I'll get to later). The water grid is a Portuguese leftover but I believe the water access points which have been added to the grid and extended it down south, were funded by Spanish Aid and they appear to be one of the most useful aid projects I have yet seen - anywhere In the world.

Roads in the city, are about equal to those i have experienced in the Solomons and Tonga. There are a lot of potholes but some sections are pretty good, there are even roundabouts and the main drag has centre lines! There are also some (very limited) road signs which I don't recall ever seeing in the Pacific except for in Fiji. Vehicles are diverse, there are your usual bombs that belch black smoke and can only drive at about 20kmph before shaking themselves to pieces. There are a lot of these cars. There are also a lot of motorcycles - many more than I have seen in the Pacific. There are, to my mind, surprisingly few white Toyotas sporting NGO or UN family logos and therefore the INGO presence strikes me as being small. Having said this, I know the UNDP, UNICEF, USAID, Portugal, Spain, the EU and Taiwan have projects here - I'm just not sure how big. Outside of the beat up cars there are a surprisingly large number of shiny new four wheel drives. Many of these have Diplomatic plates which is one explanation but many others don't??????? Taxis are a major road presence and they are usually painted completely yellow, except for the motorbike taxis. Bicycles also play a huge role in transport here and have got me thinking about how useful they might be in the Pacific especially with rising fuel prices. Here everyone from kids, to businessmen to merchants use bikes to move goods and themselves. I have seen surprisingly few modern boats though they are about - they are usually small launches. I have not seen a single modern sail boat. Interestingly, all the fishermen I have seen, including the ones we often buy dinner from, still fish from beautifully carved wooden boats. I have seen maybe two Fibreglass 'banana boats' which I might add in Honiara far outweighed the few wooden boats I saw.

The buildings here can be grouped in roughly three ways. First, there are the once beautiful, but now archaic and dilapidated Portuguese colonial homes that make up the city centre. If these were done up and repaired the little city centre would be one of the most beautiful places I have visited - however they haven't been so its not. There are many vacant buildings with broken windows, pieces of walls and verandas falling off etc. The sidewalks are broken and when it rains the dust turns to mud and there is often the distinct smell of human waste, though, this is not overpowering. Outside of the city centre you tend to hit wooden homes built from local wood (cut into timber planks). These are often on stilts and can be quite nice little buildings. I imagine this is what most Sao Tomeans live in. I have seen no Slums and i don't think there are any - at least nothing like I have seen in South Africa. Having been inside a few of these wooden homes, they are basic but usually have three or four separate rooms and are waterproof. Third, there are the 'new' buildings. These range from giant villas to 1970/80s concrete blocks, to ex-pat homes like the one I live in. Most of the homes aren't too bad. The villas are over the top and the concrete blocks look like they came straight out of east Germany.

Hygiene, health & ethnicity
Compared to my limited experience with Africans living on the continent, Sao Tomeans are probably some of the healthiest Africans I've met. There is no real shortage of food here as in the Pacific the climate allows just about anything to grow and the ocean provides all protein needs. That's not to say much isn't imported, but still, the bulk of food consumed here is local (with the exception of rice). This is a distinct difference in my mind to the food situation in the Polynesian Pacific and increasingly in the Melanesian Pacific. I have seen very few obviously sick people though there are many crippled and visually impaired - we run a few projects in this area. Nonetheless, it is well understood that disease is a major problem here. There have been recent Typhoid outbreaks, hepatitis is rampant as is stomach illness. Above all is Malaria which almost any Sao Tomean will tell you they have had on multiple occasions. This region of the world has some of the worst rates and most antibiotic resistant strains. While not only killing hundreds, particularly children, it is a major burden on peoples productivity, knocking them out for weeks or months.

Hygiene is a slightly different matter. While there is access to relatively clean water, and rivers and the ocean work as showers and baths, human waste is more problematic. I have seen both men and women stop in the streets and urinate (all be it sort of discretely - think back turned), and just about any ocean side property is used for doing number 2 - as a surfer this breaks my heart. Alternatively, I have heard that there is a business which collects human waste from the few septic tanks that exist, processes it and sells it as fertiliser. However, I haven't seen this myself.

Ethnically, there is an amazing mix of African culture here. Oddly enough, this is the result of the island once being one of the most horrific and long lasting slave stations in the world. Another positive twist of fate that has come from this is that there are few if any ethnic tensions here - at least nothing like those that have frequently so destroyed the social fabric of other African countries. It is as if past identities were wiped away in the post slavery independence era and there was no option but to build a new one as Sao Tomeans. There are short people, tall people, skinny people, curly haired people, straight haired people, light skinned and dark skinned etc. There are very few 'fat' people and the men at least are extremely well built and musculer, be they thin or big. I barely held my own in a game of football with the local men the other day - hard work.

Having said this, there are clear disparities in wealth. Those who live in the north of the Island - closer to the city, tend to be wealthier, better educated, healthier, and have access to more reliable services. The reverse can be said of those in the south. Typically, many have told me I would have had to pay a lot more if we had gotten stuck in a river up North!

Environment
The environment here is stunning. Tropical rain-forest, huge trees, waterfalls, unique flora and fauna and amazing marine life. However, there are major problems. Timber for houses has made the big forest trees scarce as has the need for charcoal. Taiwan has provided the city with giant dumpsters for the collection of rubbish and on the whole the city is clean for a developing country. However, there is still litter everywhere. There is an informal dumping ground right by the airport - I run past the kids picking through it. I know of no formal landfill though I assume there is one. This is also a small island with rising waters and many coastal towns, fortunately it is not on the hurricane path. People also talk much of the Spanish fishing fleets that come and ravage STPs waters as there is only a very basic coast guard - I haven't seen there boat - not sure they have one. The best simple example I can think of in relation to environmental impact that might be easy to imagine is washing clothes.

Typically, most villages, towns and cities are built next to a river or stream. Obviously this was and probably still is in many cases for drinking water. It is also for washing. Here, you can not pass by a river or stream during the day and not see at least 5 women (usually more like 25) washing clothing. They have usually blocked sections of the river with rocks to create pools and they stand waist deep signing and washing as a large communal group. This is back breaking work and the sun here is killer but it is one of the coolest things I have yet seen. When the clothes are washed (soaked scrubbed, banged on rocks) they are then lain out to dry on the grass, bushes, road etc around the river edge. If you glanced out the window of a fast moving car you might think a fabric truck had exploded as the colours include everything and they literally spread the clothes out over anything and anywhere. The downside of this practice is the downstream effect it has. At any one time there may be up to 5 groups of women at different points along the stream washing clothing and they are using your regular washing machine washing powder imported from Portugal. This stuff is not environmentally friendly. When I first arrived here, I noticed that the river water by the river mouth close to where I live was a cloudy greyish colour. Without much thought I assumed it was probably some sort of natural runoff from the heavy rains which often occur upstream and that if it was pollution, washing detergent wasn't high on the list of ideas. The reality of course is that it is detergent washing downstream. Another teacher and I once went looking for some students who had been missing class in a village called Santana. To find one student we had to walk off into the jungle behind the family house and down to the river where the girl was washing clothes with the other women. Amongst the rock pools filled with singing women, laundry and detergent, I could see black fish the size of your hand swimming by the rocks edges - no doubt chocking on all the detergent. All rivers lead to the ocean and almost all protein sources for Sao Tomeans are fish.

Economics Oil, governance and Development....
STP has some 160,000 people and earns about 5 mill in exports from Cocoa annually. Bar a fledgling tourist industry owned by the elite, Cocoa is its only major revenue earner and the cocoa industry here is dilapidated and lacking important technologies. Most Sao Tomeans get buy through subsistence farming and fishing with some small local trading. STP is therefore AID Dependent, receiving about 30 mill annually - it is also a Heavily Indebted Poor Country (HIPC).

Typically, it is also corrupt. There are stories of aid money being siphoned off in different ways, politicians own key businesses and abuse their powers, and there are even stories of individuals flying hard currency in on small planes from the continent and unloading it right there on the tarmac. I don't doubt it as I can walk across the airfield.

The government provides a bare minimum of services and policies are few and far between and often outdated. Similar to the Solomons, many things don't get done because politicians don't expect to be in power for long enough to actually achieve anything which likely promotes the run on government funds. Govt, coalitions collapse frequently and as I understand it party members are not as loyal as one might expect.

In many ways the small NGO community here provides many of the basic services one might expect a government to oversee - education, health, etc. This frequently leads to NGO clashes with the govt who argues these roles are its responsibility but then fails to provide.

Most of what I have read suggests that STP can be 'developed' by promoting the following sectors. Most of this comes from the esteemed J Sachs and his Columbia team who have set up a webpage http://www.earth.columbia.edu/cgsd/STP/index_actionplan.htm and who have been providing pro-bono (no one knows why) development advice to the STP government. There are rumours that this relationship has since soured???:

Agriculture and fishery management/reform - land here is not well utilised and is essentially still mono-crop cocoa. There are entire cocoa, palm, and coffee plantations here that sit unutilised. The coffee and the chocolate was once some of the most sought in the world and I have tried both and they ARE good - especially the Chocolate which is unreal! The soil is rich volcanic soil - almost entirely organic as there have been no fertiliser imports for years and the climate will allow just about anything to grow. The fisheries speak for themselves. This is an island with huge marine resources, but it needs the ability to police this territory and to make sustainable fishing agreements.

Tourism expansion - this place is stunningly beautiful, equal to anything in the Caribbean or Pacific and with its own unique differences. I might also add that people are extremely friendly and polite, and it is the safest place in all of Africa - I am starting to feel like it is safer than parts of NZ. I will note problems here - for example, the village where I surfed actually used to live in an Island about 10 minutes south. The entire village was forced to move when a up market retreat was built on the Island.

Infrastructure - the roads need to be improved, the airport needs to be improved, and ports need to be improved. After years of fighting in West Africa trade with the continent was not really much of an option, but things have settled and this is one clear option as is increased trade with Europe, especially Portugal the old Coloniser. Services also clearly need to improve and there is a lack of private service providers. Power is a good example. There are ample rivers here and these could be harnessed using small scale (no dams) turbines - in fact companies have offered to explore this in the past and mutually beneficial arrangements could be made.

Heath - the diseases here are easily preventable and manageable. A Taiwanese run Malaria control project has had amazing results and if continued could reduce the risk significantly more than it already has. HIV/AIDS is thought at most to be only at about 1.5% of the population.

Education - overall, education is the king pin. People here want education so badly. Primary enrolment rates are high but then it falls as there isn't much infrastructure after that. My students are smart intelligent hard working youth who want to work and achieve things for this country - there is no absence of will. When the Portuguese left, they had not trained anyone in anything. As a result farmers here have very limited knowledge regarding their crops and could be massively advance with some technical training and support with bulk transport, cold storage etc...

Oil - Finally, there is oil. Clearly, there are many who think Oil will save STP and there are many who are worried about what it might do. I just finished a book called 'Africas Poisoned Wells' (recommended to anyone interested). My info is pretty much from that but it is a well researched book. In the late 90's a tiny American firm ERHC (which had little experience with oil) negotiated a 'feasibility' contract with the govt here. This didn't mean that they would look for oil, drill etc. This meant they would negotiate with other oil companies for the rights to drill on behalf of STP (sounds dodgy already). STP sits right off of Nigeria, Gabon, Equatorial Guinea, and the Congo Republic (not to be confused with the DRC). These countries are rich in Oil and Nigeria is known for its 'light sweet crude' the best for making petrol. Therefore, as oil prices have gone up and the mid east has become more unreliable, the snooping for oil has moved elsewhere, and Africa has been ideal. Extend this thinking further and the simple theory is that if all these other countries close to STP have oil, then why not STP. The only barrier 'was' the deep-water, but as we know in NZ or should from the recent oil hunt down south, the technology is getting better and the price higher. To cut a long story short, ERHC, cut a scandalous deal where by they would receive 40% of any profits. They were eventually bought by a Nigerian firm after Nigeria strategically disputed STPS territorial water boundary and therefore the 22 drill zones in the region that STP was trying to get firms interested in. Not wanting to mess with Nigeria, STP essentially capitulated in the dispute and settled with a deal allowing Nigeria to split profits from a 'joint development zone' 60:40 in Nigeria's favour. I should add that this came after a bloodless coup here in STP which some say Nigeria backed, and which then forced to hand back power to the STP president - possibly as a simple display of power.

Once the joint development zone was agreed upon it was opened to drill bids. In 2005 the big multinationals rolled up, Chevron and ExonMobile. They offered their terms and Nigeria agreed. Chevron and ExonMobile then made their initial deposits - to a Nigerian bank - in order to began looking for Oil. The bank insisted that STP agree to the terms also, despite Nigerias original role as controller of all Oil deals in the zone. Much to Nigeria's luck, STP was in the middle of a public service strike (driven by the desire for oil money to increase minimum wages here). STP needed to pay up or it faced no public service. So, STP agreed to the deal and took the money from the Nigerian bank and settled the internal strike while simultaneously allowing two of the worlds most notorious Oil companies in the front door which Nigeria is the gatekeeper for. The irony of all this is that about a decade after this all started, there is still no 'viable' oil... Sao Tomeans are sceptical but still cling to the hope of getting rich quickly and oil bringing them into the 21st century - development by black gold....


So, that is a viewpoint of STP and its 'development' challenges - in a nut shell.

Saturday, October 4, 2008

JUST ANOTHER AFRICAN SURF TRIP

About a week ago, Quintino, another STeP UP staffer - who is also the man to see about 'things' - told me that a journalist named Michael Moore, was coming to Sao Tome to look at doing a story on the coming Sao Tomean oil boom. Before I go any farther, Michael Moore is not, 'the', Michael Moore (lets just clear that up now). 'The' Michael Moore couldn't have fit into the sardine can sized seats on my 'white - coloured by you' flight if he had lost half his weight. The Michael who did fly down here is an American editor for a German magazine. The oil story that he and many others have been interested in lately, is related to a deal that Nigeria (and Cheveron & ExxonMobile), recently did with the Sao Tomean Govt. They bought the rights to drill deep-water in the Islands northern maritime zone, on the grounds that they would provide infrastructure and share the profit 60/40 in their favour. This is however a different story to the one I want to tell and anyway, I am sure you know how it goes given the three letter word OIL.

Michael, like me, is a surfer. A surfer who has been suffering from major surf withdrawal symptoms from having lived in Germany for the past several years. As a solution to this problem, Michael started to write a book about the spread of surf 'culture'. During his research, he came across the movie 'the lost wave' which was made by the famous American surfer Sam George. I mentioned this movie in an earlier blog. The movie was filmed here in STP in 2000 (I think it was). In that film, you see a bunch of kids 'surfing' wood boards, mostly lying down on them. In the film Sam George also implies that kids were doing this before he showed up and so Michael wanted to find out if this was true - if surfing had indigenously evolved here like it did in Hawaii. A story that would go well with his other chapters on surf culture in Israel, Germany, Morrocco etc...

So, in order to check it out, he bought a ticket and flew down here. Before he came, he contacted the guy I work with, Ned. Ned is the only long term American ex-pat I know of on the Island which means there is a good chance he is the only American ex-pat on the Island. Michael new of Ned through another journalist that had come here looking at the Oil story some while back. Anyway, the link to me is rather obvious. I met Michael when he strolled into the STeP UP office last week looking to meet Ned face to face. Once I worked out that he surfed and that he wanted to go south to Porto Alegre to surf with the kids from the movie, it took us all of ten minutes to hatch a plan to make this African surf trip work.

Michael had booked himself two nights at an Eco Lodge in a town called Jale (close to Porto Alegre). His first night there would be on Thursday (Quinta-feira), the day after we met. I had to teach on Friday afternoon, so with the help of Quintino, we booked a rental car and drove down early on Thursday morning. Quintino and I would return that night and Michael would make his way back via taxi in a few days. The trip down was relatively uneventful, though I will say the land as you head south is stuningly beautiful. There are untended Cocoa, Palm, and Bannan trees all over the place, jungle covered hills, rivers and a road that is 1/3 Portuguese cobble stone, 1/3 crumbling pavement and 1/3 pothole. As you head south you pass many towns and the poverty increases. Some towns have power, some don't. Some have pumped water and some don't. Mostly people survive on fishing and making Palm wine. Some delve into the illegal logging though this has become harder as the big trees have become fewer and access into the interrior is limited - there are no roads, no helicoptors or big tucks. If a tree is felled it is lumbered there on the spot and hiked out. Down south the kids are the highlight. They are always playing in the streets with these amazing home made toys; plastic bottles split four ways to make propeller blades, tin can lids and rubber tires to role around the streets, hand carved wooden toy cars pushed by a long pole and wooden skateboards with wooden wheels. If you stop and get out of the car they swarm around you and yell and scream for 'doce' (candy) - no one really knows why, its just what all kids here yell when they see a Branco (white man).

When we arrived into Porto Alegre it was pouring rain but within five minutes we had found Chun - the star African kid surfer in the movie - and his old man. They were exstatic to learn that Michael had contacted Sam George and that I had contacted Holly Beck (the girl who had travelled with and surfed with Sam and Chun on the last trip and who is also in the movie). Because of the rain we were ushered into the family house, a small wooden fisherman's shack by the ocean. Right there in the first room was a Surftech 8ft longboard, the one Sam had left behind and the one you can see him and Chun surfing in the film. Then out came a beet up old photo collection and in it, the photos of Chun and Sam surfing - I think they are from Sam's original trip. A plastic Hawaiian surf shop bag then materialised with some extra fins and what little bit of wax the kids had left - this was all very strange to see in a dark smoke filled shack at the bottom of an African island that gets very few tourists. Finally, there was a blown up photo (in rough condition), taken down off the wall. In this was the 5 year old naked Chun, surfing the same board that was now in his front room.

Using Quintino's Portuguese, Michael went to work on interviewing Chun and his father. It turns out that Chun surfs just about everyday and that he has his own little surf tribe of about 6 other village kids who surf with him. At some stage after Sam left, Chun had joined the Army (common for the poor families in Porto Alegre) but he was now out and working in the village. Some of the other kids who had also surfed in the film were now still in the army and not there in town - including a boy named Mano who Holly had left her board too. Interestingly, Shun's father (who's name I couldn't get), said that since he was a child (at least 50 years ago) he and other children had been belly surfing old wooden boards cut from the bottom of canoes or logs tied together from a certain type of local tree. Eventually we wound up the interview and asked Shun if he wanted to surf. He was keen but asked that we come back at 3pm when the tide was higher and when the waves would be better. He also wanted time to clean up for some photo ops - he was covered in Sugar cane husk.

We obliged and Drove Michael to Jale to check in to his Eco lodge. When we arrived at the reception (still in Porto Alegre), it was somewhat apparent that they had no idea Michael was actually comming but they were happy to have the guest and handed us keys and pointed us down a road. We drove off and 15 minutes later, Michael was climbing into his little Mosquito netted beach casa. At this stage I wasn't exactly feeling sorry for the guy. The little huts, which are admittedly basic (no power, no water - just a bed walls and roof), were right on a Kilometer of white sand beach. A beach where six different types of sea turtle nest, where whales hunt and breach - in fact, they were doing this about a kilometer out while we were standing on the beach. There was also a shifty but promising left hand wave right there in front of his casa. As if this wasn't enough proof of surf potential, we found an old 6ft surfboard tucked under another of the casas. According to Domingo, the grounds man, a French guy who works for an NGO back up in Sao Tome city, would come down now and again - I assume to surf that spot right out front.

After a lunch of fish and banana (5 Euro), deliverd by motocicleta from Porto Alegre, we jumped into the car to head back for our surf. In our eagerness, Michael backed the car - with some force - into a palm tree behind us! Domingo the old grounds man - looking very Cuban in his bare feet and train drivers hat - winced but you could tell he was just thinking stupido tourista! After a brief stop at a casa on a hill looking out to the southern resort Island Ilha de los Rholas, we made it back to Porto Alegre where we again met up with Chun. The whole village appeared to watch us pull our boards out and get changed. I had my board waxed for me while at the same time I was attempting to put the fins in. Things here just get done for you in the hope that you will pay later. You don't get to choose whether you want this help which can be a pain in the ass but usually isn't. When we were ready, Chun led us down to the beach past six or seven giant canoes carved from trees, past half a turtle shell (the largest I have ever seen), and into the water. A slushy 2-3ft right hander was breaking over a 2m deep volcanic and coral ocean floor. This wave has good potential but that day it was suffering the effects of a soft onshore and a very heavy tropical rain storm which had developed back when we were getting our boards ready.

Nonetheless, in about five minutes, I was surfing in African waters. About two minutes after that, it became very apparent that Chun wasn't kidding when he said he surfed almost everyday. He was ripping up his home break on a very hard to surf slushy wave day. About ten minutes later another guy paddled out on another board left by Sam George. Then, another boy, but this time on a wood board from the bottom of a canoe. The five of us surfed for an hour, laughed at each others wipe-outs, hollered at each others success, traded boards - Michael and I both had a go on the canoe bottom - and surfed some more. Surfing the wood board was literally like surfing a very floaty log. The only positive was duck diving wasn't necessary as the thing was so heavy that you just punched straight through oncoming waves. Holding on was however, a different matter as was standing up! Eventually the locals got cold. I was surfing in a vest and boardies and warm as could be, but to the locals, the weather was cold so we eventually all went in and met the few faces that had stood out in the rain to watch. We had one more photo op and then we said our goodbys. Michael would comeback the next day to see if they had anything they wanted to say or send to Sam George.

We headed back to Jale, dropped Michael off and Quintino and I turned around and began the drive back up the Island in the dark. Driving in Africa in the dark is a bad idea. But, sleeping in a village where the Malaria rate makes drinking Chinese milk powder look good isn't a good idea either. We took it slow and worked our way back as best as we could. We had no problems until we got to a river we had crossed on the way down. I had completely forgotten about this minor issue. It turns out that the rain storm we had surfed in had delivered a substantial amount of rain to the mountains also. All that rain water was now pouring down what was a trickle of a stream on the way down to Porto Alegre. When we had crossed south the water had been a good foot lower than the bridge, now, when we needed to cross north, it was at least two feet over the bridge and chugging along. Quintino and I stopped the car at the rivers edge put the lights on full beam and looked at the fast moving water and pondered our situation. While the water was moving fast, it wasn't uncross-able, though, it was getting close to. Quintino had done this a zillion times before and so have I - admittedly not at the end of a remote African Island. Quintino and I decided to make the crossing. Quintino lined up the car checked the fourwheel drive and stepped on the peddle to give us good speed to push through the fast moving water.

In about 4 seconds we knew we had made a big mistake. Crunch, grind and stop - right in the middle of the river. In the pouring rain, poor light from the head lights, and with the muddy water moving so quickly over the bridge, we had misjudged where we thought the bridge's left edge (upstream side), was. When you drive over the bridge normally, there is only about a foot of extra space on either side of you. This is a one-way bridge designed to cause as little resistance to the obviously regular flood waters that pour over it. Either that or they just didn't have enough concrete to make the bridge bigger, equally likely. We had erred to the left on purpose but had done so too much and had now put both our left wheels off the side of the bridge - thank god it hadn't been the opposite side or we would have been in serious trouble. Though, at the time, with half a foot of water coming in on the left hand side of the car and my bag floating around in the back, I thought we were in serious enough trouble. In fact, 'propper fucked' would be a better description of how I was feeling.

Fortunately the car was pretty well stuck and not going to wash away. Unfortunately, the water didn't look like letting up anytime soon. It was about 7pm and Dark, we were as close to nowhere as I thought possible, the mosquitos outside were thick enough to part with your hands and it was still pouring rain. Quintino and I climbed out the passenger side door, carefully stepped barefoot into the water and moved to the back of the car to examine the situation. As we were standing there - trying not to cry - about four locals materialised out of the dark and came into full view in the light from our car head lights. Within another 10 minutes, word had spread and about 40 villagers from a dot on the map which was just around the corner and which had only two small shack houses, had arrived. It Turned out we were farther away from nowhere than I had thought. About 25 men came over to the car and we all attempted to pull/push the car back. This deteriorated into a 'lets rock the car back' and ended up rocking it further towards the upstream side - not good. In the noise and chaos of mixed Portuguese/creol, I heard Quintino yelling to stop the rocking from inside the car where he was revving the engine like crazy trying to catch a tire. At this stage I had pretty much given up. We had attempted to move a Pajero with 25 well built men and had succeeded only in worsening our situation. Meanwhile, the villagers had all begun to argue about what course should be taken next. After a lot of yelling and screaming and me working to unload all our gear from the car, Quintino left with some of the men to find something to lever the car up and back onto the bridge with. All I can say is I am thankful this country is as safe as it is as I think leaving a stranded, Portuguese illiterate white dude alone amongst 40 very poor villagers in the middle of nowhere in most African countries is probably a combination for getting mugged or worse.

After half an hour, Quintino (this guy is now my hero), appeared with a bunch of the villagers, carrying a steel pipe about three meters long and nearly 10 cm in diameter. Then came some more villagers with logs. Quintino and the 25 men, stacked the logs in front of the back tire (in about three feet of water), slid the pipe on top of the log and then under the rear chassie. I have to say, I really didn't think this was going to work. There was a lot of water moving under the car, the entire seen still seemed very chaotic, and we had already made the situation worse once. However, my despair was put wrong, this motley team levered the rear tire back up onto the bridge and a huge cheer roared out. They then moved to the front and did the same thing - popping out the left hand light indicator in the process. Needles to say another cheer was let out. Quintino jumped in the car, started it up and drove off the bridge - that was a good feeling.

Then came the bartering, although, there really wasn't any bartering to do. They had just saved us a lot of time and hassle and to be completely honest there probably wasn't another vehicle big enough and close enough that could have accomplished what they had. Plus, its kinda hard to barter with 40 very excited in your face villagers. I gave them every Dobra I had which amounted to 250,000.00 (aprox $19 US). No tow truck could beat that.

Needles to say, I was happy to be in the car, have all four tires working and be moving towards home. That's when Quintino thought it would be a good idea to remind me that we still had another river to cross and this one really wasn't near anyone. I jogged my memory and yes, there was another river to cross, this one about twice as wide as the last. We both instantly agreed that if it was too bad, we'd sleep it out in the car. When we arrived however, the water was only about a foot above the bridge and moving much slower than the previous stream. The bridge was well defined and wider also. The only problem was the root mass from a giant dead bamboo tree and its bamboo poles (think 15 or so 10 cm round bamboo beams stuck into a root mass the size of two cows). This had come loose somewhere up stream and was now stuck against the upstream side of the bridge. Fortunately the roots were not on the bridge, mostly underwater, and there were only about five big bamboo poles stuck across the bridge and in our war. Quintino and I held hands and waded out into the foot deep water and pulled the branches (which were fortunately dead) off the bridge. We threw them down stream - road clear. We turned round, held hands, and waded back out of the river and back to the car. The last crossing went like the first one should have. We were soaked to the bone but on our way home.

We arrived home two hours later and after a shower, I went to bed and slept the best I have since being here. All in all, an exciting surf trip, just what I wanted. It hasn't stopped raining since we got back and Michael is due back tomorrow. I hope the rivers aren't high because the taxi's aren't fourwheel drive and the planes here don't wait for you!

Saturday, September 20, 2008

THE PELVIC GRIND!

Simo - trust the soul of Wellington Music to remind me of my Sao Tomean clubbing experience! How could I forget!!!!!!!!!!!

I arrived into Sao Tome's grand international Airport from the awesome city of Lisbon on a thursday morning. The flight was a helish 6 hours in an old retro 737 with less leg room than a sardine can. Perhaps most stunning was that Portugal Airways (TAP) was flying us in on one of their subsidiary companies which someone amazingly decided to name 'White' and give the slogan, 'Colored by You'. Now maybe its me but this name strikes me as a little rich considering that Portugal was the white colonial power that brought all the Sao Tomeans to Sao Tome as Slaves and now decides to call their airline - which they pack with black Africans, 'White - Colored by you' ?????? Get out of Town!!!!!!

Anyway, the following Friday night a friend of my new room mate 'Precious' (I don't live in a prison cell) showed up. He was only in town for a few days working on a micro-finance project so he wanted to experience the STP night life before having to fly out the next day. So we went clubbing at the Discoteque, called imaginatively, 'the discoteque'.

We caught a lift out there with Danny the driver. Now I have to admit, before that night I didn't really know what to expect. However, my good old flatmate Simo had introduced me to the great Fela Kuti a few years back and so if anything I was expecting some serious beats and some crazy dancing - a pretty wild night surely.

After buying my ticket from a hole in the wall and feeling the bass vibrate out through that same hole in wall, the expectation was building. When I got to the front door I got a pat down by a big African dude in camo as well as having a metal detector wand waved all over me (more security there than at the airport). Once in the front door and past the bar to a giant dance floor with lights flashing and shadows moving all over the place, my eyes began to adjust to the light. It turns out Sao Tomeans like loud music - even louder than the Mexicans which I didn't think was possible. However, they are not crazy dancers (at least not that night). Once my eyes adjusted I realised that this was like walking into a secondary school inter-school dance but with adults!!!!!!!!!!!! The entire dance floor was covered with couples, glued together at the hips but all slow dancing. The men moving back and forth - nothing too special - and the women doing this amazingly subtle ass shake that is like something out of karma sutra but not..... It was weird to say the least. Weirder still was that I figured this must be the song or the music type that was requiring these dance moves. Wrong, I was there for about four hours and every song got the same dance moves and never once was there a single lone person on the dance floor, always couples. Needles too say I was chilling in the corner with my labelless beer (the local brew has no label here, just a bottle cap and you recycle the bottles like you used to do with milk bottles - awesome).

After four hours, and four labelless beers, my ears were about to fall off from the noise. I wasn't - much to Morgans delight - exactly flavor of the month with the local girls either so it was time to get out of there. However, the best part of the night was still to come. Precious and I left and walked through Sao Tome city at 2am, stars were out and there was almost no one on the streets. Fifteen minutes later we found two motorcycle taxis and forked over 15k (about 1 US dollar) for our 15 minute ride back home. Pato, you'd be in heaven here. Flying down empty African city streets at 2am on the back of a pimped out Yamaha motorcycle is a pretty awesome experience; past the lights of the rico portuguese houses in their gated community, past the old churches lit up, stars and the moon, past the beach, and that tropically warm air. Easily the best taxi ride I've ever had.

Anyway, I found out a few days ago that the music in the club was all from Mozambique and Angola and it has been pretty westernised. Sounding like something between Bob Marley and West Life - if thats possible. Not exactly my cup of tea. However, I have since heard a lot of local Sao Tomean Tunes on the radio here and they are pretty awesome and obviously a lot more traditional. I'll do my best to track some down and flick you a CD Simo.

Anyway, I have plenty of time to try and find some of that live. Hopefully I can catch another bike taxi home at 2am...

IN THE BEGINING

Kia ora everybody.

I'm in Sao Tome. If you haven't found it on the map yet, its an island about 300km off the central west African coast.

In April I finished my MA and then went to work for Dev-zone in downtown Wellington for a few months. Great job and great people but the position was temporary and has since been turned into two part time positions and that wasn't really what I was looking for. Back when I'd handed in my MA I had also written to a guy (Ned) who I am now working with, to see if he ever took on volunteers to work for his small Sao Tomean NGO. He did, so with no real certainty about my job I eventually decided I would spend all my savings and come to Sao Tome. I figured I'd get to go to a rarely travelled location and get some more experience with an NGO in another developing country. So for those of you who just randomly heard I was going to Africa or don't even know yet, that's basically how I ended up here. I'll be back in NZ in about three months - looking for work, again.

STP
Sao Tome is one of two Islands (the second being Principe), that make up the Republic of Sao Tome & Principe. Independence was achieved in 1975 from the Portuguese. The Portuguese made the decision to pack-up and leave because the nations economy - largely based on Sugar and then cocoa - became more work than it was worth and because the local population of what were essentially slaves, were increasingly becoming pissed off with their colonialists 'masters'. Unfortunately, as with most colonial governments, about the only things the Portuguese left behind were a few roads, buildings and the plantations. There was, apparently only one doctor on the entire Island, which today, has a population of over 150,000 people. As you can imagine, once the Sao Tomeans got over the joy of having ditched the Portuguese, they realised they had no one who was actually trained to run farms, plantations, businesses, hospitals, or a government. The result has been an incredibly weak government, multiple military coups, an export economy which is almost entirely based on cacoa and a domestic economy that has become AID dependent (aprx 25mill annually) and which is flooded with cheap westernised commodities. The packaging all this arrives in is floating in the bay in front of me - yay capitalism!

WHAT I'M DOING
The NGO I am working with focuses mostly on education, health and income generation. It's called STeP UP and the website is: http://www.stepup.st/
I am here as STeP UP wants to launch an appropriate technology school - a school where everything from English through to mechanics, flower production, mosquito net sewing, and solar panel maintenance can be taught. Essentially it would be a place to house a number of existing projects whilst having room to expand into others. I'm supposed to work on donor proposals - finding money to equip the school etc. The school however depends on the government coming through on their promise to provide an old Roca (plantation building) for the school which was supposed to, but has not yet happened. So in the meantime I'm working on getting some solar panels for our current office which will be used for the obvious task of powering the office but also as a way to get locals interested in solar power. Once interested, we want to train people in how to install and maintain the panels at the the technical school. I'm also going to do a little English teaching.

WHERE I LIVE
So I've now been here for over a week. Most of that time I have spent settling into my accomodation, visiting STeP UP projects, meeting staff, learning basic Portuguese and getting a feel for the Island. I live in Ned's house, a medium sized place for the ex-pat community here (which is very small). I share a room with a really nice Ghanaian guy named 'Precious' (Great name) who is teaching English in one of the STeP UP projects. I have hot water (a progression from my times in the Pacific) electricity and even wireless internet. However the power goes out pretty regularly (apparently it has been better of late as the new PM lives down the road), the hot water is never consistently hot, and the wirless is about as fast as dial-up....

FOOD
Breakfast consists of fresh fruit and yogurt - papaya and pineapple usually. The yogurt comes from a local family down the road. Hopefully they use real milk and not Chinese milk powder though my chances aren't high as there are about 40 cows on the whole island as apparently the Titsi fly wipes them out and our milk imports come from west Africa - one of the places they know the melamine milk powder has been sold.......... Lunch is usually a green salad, bread and taro chips (like potato chips but better). Dinner is the only hot meal and is usually fish and Rice. The fish here is awesome - I have no idea what it is but it tastes great and is always fresh. Breadfruit and taro are also quite big staples here which kinda struck me as odd as I always thought of them as being Pacific foods. The more I think about it though, I seem to recall that the HMS Bounty was actually sent to Tahiti to bring bread fruit back to the Atlantic so I guess somebody succeeded in that task quite a while ago.

THE GUYS
Ned has a couple of guys who work for him. There is the driver (Danny), and there is the cook (Abadi). Considering that Ned lost his legs to a horrible infection, its pretty amazing that he gets buy in this environment with just these two guys... Danny has some English so this is pretty helpful. Abadi and I struggle to communicate much more than hello, good morning, how ya doing etc, but we'll get there...

SO FAR
Basically the only thing that has struck me as remotely dangerous around here are the roads. These are paved better than any I have been on in the pacific though there are still loads of pot holes and the road quality generally deteriorates the farther you get from the city. There is also no speed limit - or if there is, no one pays any attention to it. This is kind of odd as the Sao Tomean culture is locally described as 'leve leve' (slowly, slowly, or take it easy) - clearly not applied to their driving. In essence, they drive as fast as their cars will let them, and they honk to tell people they are approaching a corner or that they are going to overtake - there is a lot of honking. People only slow down when there is actually something in front of them that they can't pass or a pot hole that is going to rip off a tire. In the last week I've been in a car that has overtaken three cars on a blind corner doing at least 80kmh, driven easily at 60kmh down streets as narrow as the car we were in whilst the road was packed with kids, pigs, chickens, bikes, adults, and police, and nearly been in about 15 accidents ranging from knocking people off bikes and motorbikes to driving into the back of taxis. Needles to say - 'shotgun' is not called often here. In fact, Glen and I (Glen is an old friend of Neds who is visiting and who I have been doing a few trips with) take turns taking one for the team and sitting up front. The only benefit of sitting up front is that the seat-belt actually works and in this country even the locals often wear seatbelts which is saying something.

Using this exhilarating automotive transport, I have, so far, visited both the north and south ends of the island, been almost to the top of Pico de Sao Tome, seen old slave plantations, waterfalls, villages, walked empty beaches, swam in blue lagoons, been asked for money from a bazillion little kids and eaten a lot of fish, banana and coconut covered with honey. The house is about 500m from the international airport which gets (I'd guess) 15 flights a week. When I run, I go out the front gate, down a path through some head high grass, past the black lava rocks that have been used as a break-wall for the landing strip which stretches out into the ocean, over the international airport landing strip itself (be sure to look both ways), down another path and pop out in a little village where all the kids point and yell Branco..... The notion of running across an international airfield has taken a while to sink in, though I am getting used to it. About the third time I was out there I ran into three Sao Tomean Soldiers in uniform, all carrying loaded AK-47s. I figured they were security and I was about to get told that my 'turista' ass shouldn't be out there on the tarmac. Instead they just asked me if I had a 'problema?' and when I said 'Nao, nao problema' they smiled and left. As you can imagine I don't think I'll have to take my shoes off going through security when I leave - In fact, as far as I could tell when I landed, there was no security, just immigration!

SURFING
So far there has been no surfing. But as the theory goes, 'even the smallest oceans get big big waves' - not that the Atlantic is small but you get the point. Before coming here I did my research and there has been at least one documented case of surfing here. If you're interested google a combination of surfing Sao Tome / Sam George / and 'The Lost Wave'. George is a well known American surfer and he and an up and coming American women surfer named Holly Beck came here with another well known surfer/photographer Joe Curren. The vid struck me as very American shall we say, but it is proof of surf - even if it wasn't exactly epic. Anyway, I wrote to both George and Beck before coming here and both were awesome enough to give me directions to spots they surfed. Beck also left her board here in the village at the bottom of the Island called Porto Alegre - a kid called Mano apparently took a liking to it. I visited Porto Alegre the other day and yes there is surf though it was 2 ft slush, and raining and actually kinda cold. Didn't see Mano surfing Beck's old board either. The second spot they told me about is about 20 minutes from the house out by the giant radio station and I've not been able to check it out yet. However, the airport break-wall (right out front of the house I am in) is actually showing signs of some potential!!!!!!! Standing on the deck I have a clear view of the swell moving down the south side of the break-wall and sure enough, both low and high tide it jacks up a nice little A frame 2ft peak. For those of you who know Lyall, it is the same set up except the shore is small volcanic rocks. The only problems are the apparent lack of a decent swell, and one small patch of lava rock that just breaks the surface at low tide and which is about 5m down the face of the left hand peelers that come through - potentially a good fin-ripper-offer.... It gets better however. While I have been running over the tarmac for days and through the village on the other side, I hadn't until this morning, walked to the far northern tip of the tarmac. To my surprise, and this put a big smile on my face, when I did this this morning, there was another shore break, right there in front of the village and even more surprising was the group of about 15 kids surfing it! I say surfing as they were clearly paddling out through the swell on boards of some sort and catching the waves in. But I was watching this from about 500m and from behind the waves so I can't say they were standing and I'm not sure what they were surfing. I decided, that running over there with my board and just paddling outwould likely cause a riot of excited kids and a fight of some sort - this is based on my experience the other day of being swarmed by a bunch of kids wanting their photos taken and then wanting me to pay them for the pleasure of having taken their photos. So, before I stroll over and say hi to these young surf stoked grommets, I need to brush up on my Portuguese well enough to extricate myself from the impending chaos I am sure I will cause......

I'll be sure to let you know how it goes!