THE UGLY ALPHABET

I've been unwell for quite a while: first my asthma's impressive come back ("Take my breath away" interspersed with "I will survive"), followed by a lovely duet of Pharyngitis feat Sinusitis - all in all a two week long tour, which had me entertained. I am heading towards being okay again, but all this has inspired me to tell you about something I've never described before: the little things you should be careful about when in Africa. Here it comes: a list of potential problems, pains and illnesses or how Africa changes your daily routine.

W is for Water
In many Central African countries you're not supposed to even wash your teeth with tap water. It may contain loads of bugs and bacteria that you really want to steer clear from. Luckily, Gabon is a happy exception. Here tap water is perfectly drinkable and both of us drink it instead of bottled water by now. Of course, at the beginning it's good to give yourself a time to get used to the local water - it's always different than in Europe. We've switched to tap water completely (cheaper) and it's working out very well, though. However, we never drink it when away from Libreville. When on a trip, we tend to be extra-careful and use mineral water even when we brush our teeth.

M is for Mosquito
And Mosquito is for Malaria. It's out there, just like flu, rather common, I'm afraid. There is no vaccination and you can only take preventive medication for up to one month. After that, you're on your own. Malaria mosquitoes mainly show at dusk (around 6 pm, that is, the very time I'm writing this). This is the right moment to close your windows and, if you're planning to leave home, generously spray your skin with an anti-mosquito product. And don't forget that you're never safe - use a mosquito net at night, the malaria squad doesn't go to sleep just because you do! Of course, you will get plenty of bites anyway. Just another way to test your luck.

S is for Salmonella
Are you obsessed with personal hygiene? Do you wash your hands seven hundred times a day? Good! Africa is the place for you. Salmonella tends to sit on unwashed fruit, in dirty water and also anything that might have contact with the two (the change you get from the taxi driver... somebody's hand you shake... you name it). Once it gets into your mouth - say, you absentmindedly touch it while deep in thought, or you're in a habit of biting your nails - the moment it gets into your mouth, you're done. Typhoid fever is what you get and - I know, I've been there - it's not pretty. Ask my boyfriend.

A is for Air-conditioning
Gabon, and above all Libreville, is not your stereotypical "wild" Africa, not at all. It's got great restaurants, big bildings, lovely flats and European shops. As it's very hot and humid, all of the above mentioned tend to rely on excessive use of air-conditioning. How so? Let me explain. Imagine you're working in an air-conditioned building. You're comfortable in your suit, complete with a tie, it's around twenty degrees and you're rather cool, typing away on your computer. Suddenly, you remember that you've left your snack in the car. So you walk out of your office, open an oven - ekhm, I mean the door - and you arrive at your car, your shirt soaked with sweat. You take off your jacket, panting, head back to the office, open the fridge - the door, I mean, sorry - ups, it's freaking cold! - you put on your jacket, you sit down, still sweating, cold all of a sudden... And there you go, the next day you're down with a cold. Or sinusitis. I really do think that this is one of the greatest dangers we face in Libreville on a daily basis. Ironically.

And B is for...? Can you guess?
Yes, last but not least, you can't speak about Central Africa without mentioning the B. Bugs! Bugs all over the place! To start with, cockroaches; huge fat flying cockroaches, that are everywhere and will probably take over the world some day. You inevitably have them at home (we are only relatively cockroach-free, which is a great achievement anyway), they will cause havoc at school (I'm pretty sure they take great pleasure in disturbing my classes) and they will boldly crouch right next to your chair and stare at you while you have lunch at a restaurant. Oh, and they're rather ugly.
The ants are there, too. And the little worms that you constantly find in your flour, pasta and rice. No matter how many plastic bags you put them in. However, this is nothing compared to the laundry fly (not its scientific name). If you put your wet laundry outside to dry, be ready for surprises. There is a fly that lays eggs in humid fabrics, which later nest in your skin. This leads to a red spot, looking like a mosquito bite, but containing a live worm, growing inside you until it's ready to break the skin and leave. Apparently, you can feel it move and all. Gives you special motivation to iron your clothes, doesn't it?

And that's all I can think of, folks. Not so bad, innit?

The pictures downloaded here and here respectively.

THE ROÇAS

I still haven't finished telling you about São Tomé, I hope I'm not being too boring. But please allow me just one more entry, probably the last one, which will explain a bit more about the roças, cocoa and coffee plantations started by the Portuguese colonisers.

We visited only a few of them - the island is one enormous plantantion, really - and they were all rather similar. The biggest building was always the hospital (all bigger roças boasted a hospital of their own), which towered over the fields, bringing to mind a medieval castle. The most beautiful house was occupied by the administrator of the roça, who could enjoy lovely views from his vast veranda and numerous terraces. Nearby there were always cocoa or coffee driers, offices, workshops, etc. Workers' dwellings were never in view.

When the Portuguese left in 1975, it was a question of weeks. They left everything and everybody behind and the abandoned plantations, passed from the helpless hands of the government to the helpless hands of the people, slowly, one by one, stopped the production and closed. They were invaded by the workers, who saw the departure of the Portuguese as an opportunity to take their place, at least physically. They went into their houses, set up homes in cocoa driers and watched the plantations turn into ruin, bit by bit, year by year. Again, do not misunderstand me: I am not blaming the people of São Tomé for anything. They just didn't know how to take the initiative, for they had always been told what to do (the government, on the other hand, is very much to blame!). So they adapted themselves to the new situation, lived on bananas and coconuts, and waited. But nothing happened. They are still waiting.

What we found very sad was the fact that people would admit that life had been better when the colonisers were there. Everybody had work. People wore clean clothes. There was a hospital within reach. You had enough food. Life was simpler. We heard this story from various elderly inhabitants of the roças. People do nothing now, an old man told us, comfortable in the chair of the last plantation boss, they should work but they don't. We are waiting for a cooperation project. Yes, the magical project yet again.

Still, there are ideas for the plantations, too. Roça São João dos Angolares is a wonderful example. The house was adapted for a comfortable hotel (38 euro/night) and the hospital - for an art gallery and workshop. The wild coffee plantations can be visited with a guide, and the owner will greet you personally and make sure you are well attended to. Coffee from the roça is served with breakfast, lunch and dinner, the latter being the greatest attraction of all. The food is absolutely exquisite. Local specialties are served on the terrace, overlooking a beach with black, vulcanic sand. Each dinner was a true delight (for a decent price of 12 euro).

Roça Monte Café is where the Museum of Coffee, an obvious tourist attraction, has been about to open for the past few years. One of the inhabitants of the plantantion, who still remembered the Portuguese, told us that it probably never will. The cooperation project that was preparing it was not prolonged. This elderly man still made coffee and he sold us some. This is all that is left of the roça, he said, handing us a bag of coffee, a sad smile on his tired face.

We also visited Roça Agostinho Neto, the largest one on the island. It really is impressive. Its enormous grounds are exactly as they were when the plantation worked, just more dirty, more degraded, as if an abandoned town taken out of an American horror film. We strolled along its streets, entered the buildings, followed the little railway that used to belong to the plantation. The villagers observed us, greeted us and ignorned our presence. Only the children kept shouting their mantra: docedocedoce! trailed after us, omnipresent. A chicken on the owner's statue. Laundry drying in the office windows. People sleeping in the old hospital. Two white tourists taking pictures. We were filled with contradictory emotions: sadness mixed with curiosity, disappointment with desire to explore. Probably impossible to describe.

And finally, Roça Diogo Vaz. Yet another idea of how to adapt the plantation premises. A roça whose plantations are still tended to and whose people still have employment. And the hospital was turned into a school, which I've already told you about. An exceptional place.

Many other plantations, such as Micondo or Bombaim, offer accomodation and guides. Tourism is probably the only way to save them. There is, however, a very long way before São Tomé becomes a typical tourist destination. And, as much as I want its situation to improve, I really hope it will never really turn into yet another Ibiza.

ESCOLA DO CAMPO

In my last entry I promised to tell you about a cooperation project which might actually work not only in theory but in practice. We discovered it by chance: our lovely landlady from Casa Amarela in the city of São Tomé, Nora, is actually responsible for the project and after she told us about it we decided we wanted to see the place.

We arrived at Roça Diogo Vaz late in the afternoon. It was no different from the other ones we'd visited: beautiful old buildings, now inhabited by random villagers. Most houses nearly derelict, an old Portuguese road invaded by grass, children shouting "docedocedoce!" in our direction... We followed the "Escola do Campo" sign and took the small road, which crept down in the shade of cocoa plants. Soon we reached what used to be the Roça's hospital.

A tall man came to greet us. He spoke with an accent slightly different from all the others, which later turned out to be Caboverdian. His name was Gustavo and, as headmaster, he introduced us to the well-coordinated mechanism that the school was.

The hospital had been turned into a boarding school, with pleasant rooms for the students, a common room fitted with comfy sofas, a computer room with internet (!) and several workshops. Students (teenage boys) pay very little - 100 000 dobras (4 euros) a month - and they learn various practical things: computer science, agriculture, sewing, carpentry, handicraft, English and even how to be a tourist guide. Above all, however, they learn responsibility. They learn that in life very few things are for free. And they learn the value and importance of work. How? Well, they participate in the classes I mentioned but there are more duties than that. They wake up at 5:30 am and clean the school. One of them takes a taxi to town to get bread for breakfast, while the others get everything organised and prepare the meal. They tend to the school's vegetable garden and they have kitchen duties. Apart from teaching, they take care of everything at school, including the tourists. And the discipline is stunning.

To give you an idea of how difficult it is to achieve all this, let me digress a little. While visiting the school, we were shown a room full of toys and games for little children. We asked if Escola do Campo had a pre-school as well, and were told that it was not the case but that in the same building there was a public elementary school. Why all the toys then?, we asked. Gustavo explained that once a week they invite the little ones to play. Not to give them a chance to enjoy the nice toys, though, but to teach them to tidy up the room and put away all the toys after they've finished. Because otherwise these children will become adults who don't feel any kind of responsibility whatsoever.

Interesting as the project seemed, it was not the only reason we went. In the end, we were tourists. Escola do Campo is, however, more than just a school. It receives tourists, who may choose between a fantastic spacious room in the "Hobbit's house" on the ground floor of the hospital building and two lovely rooms with ensuite bathrooms on the same floor as the students' dormitories, if you want to mingle a bit. Gustavo and the boys will attend to all your needs, including decorating the breakfast table with flowers. It is surprisingly cheap: 15 euro per room, including breakfast. Lunch costs 5 euro per person. You eat with the boys, which greatly adds to the experience. If you wish, the students, trained by a professional guide, will take you for a trip. We visited the cocoa plantantion and went hiking through spooky tunnels to reach a wonderful waterfall. Our guides were very attentive and answered all of our questions. Both trips cost us as little as 15 euros. Also, we bought souvernirs, which are made by students in they handicraft class and sold by them personally (thus they see the actual money that work brings). We were impressed.

For those who want to get involved in the project, still a different option is possible. You may stay at the school and be shown around for free but in return you should organise a workshop for the boys and teach them something you're good at. If we had had more time, I would've been more than thrilled to try that!

And now the sad part. The school is not financed by the state. It gets by thanks to donations. If you know of anybody who would like to help, let me know. It's worth it. I think the money we left there was the best investment we've made in months.

AMIGO, DOCE!

Despite its proximity to Gabon, São Tomé is nothing like the Africa I've known so far (many people will tell you that Libreville has little to do with Africa anyway). The island was colonised by the Portuguese, who left behind decent architecture and immense plantations. The city of São Tomé must have been a real pearl fifty years ago - it is full of lovely old fashioned buildings, most of which are, sadly, starting to fall apart. This roughness, this raw beauty is both enticing and saddening. Libreville's architecture practically non-existent, I fell in love with this town.

The capital is the only real city on the island. Most people live in villages comprised of wooden huts (no electricity, no running water) or they have adapted the old plantations and live in the buildings left by the Portuguese (in the hospitals, for instance). Wherever you go, there are pigs and goats and AIDS posters. People are poor, very poor. Don't get me wrong, however. I'm not trying to paint a picture of a poor African country, whose unhappy citizens need European help. Believe me, I could not be further from that, and later on I will explain why. For now I'm just trying to give you enough information to imagine the children running around barefoot and playing with a waste bin or throwing stones at a sick dog. Because this is their reality.

Keen observers as we are, we have noticed one or two things about the people of São Tomé. First of all, they are terribly nice and open. They talk to you, they smile, they say hello in the street. Once, when we got lost in the little streets on the outskirts of the city, a guy took his motorbike, told us to follow him and got us out onto the main road. So nice. On the other hand, if your destination is not just around the corner, you might have some trouble asking for directions. The natives have great problems with giving them. They distinguish between "up" and "down" but not "right" and "left". They can't read the map at all but they will stare at it and invent things to please you. Usually the conversation runs more or less like this:

- Excuse me, Angolares?
- Angolares? Ahh, Angolares. Yes. (they look expectantly, waiting for the question which you think you've already asked but you haven't)
- Yes. How do we get to Angolares? (no mental shortcuts this time)
- You must go that way and then go like this and like this. (several vague hand gestures, indicating the direction)
- Straight, right and left?
- Yes, yes.

And then it turns out it was "straight, left and right" or "straight, straight and left". People say yes to everything.

We have also found out that workers are generally little efficient. We had learned that in Gabon but in São Tomé the helplessness of "professionals" is at times astounding. We stayed in a fifty-euro-per-night hotel for one night, where the bathroom light would automatically go off after four seconds, so you had to start waving your arms frantically for it go back on (imagine the fun I had shaving my legs!). The receptionist, apart from sending us in the direction completely opposite to where the restaurant was, made us endure the following:

- We would like to pay please.
- 50 euros.
- We would like to pay in dobras.
- I don't know how many dobras it makes.
- We do. It makes 1 225 000 dobras.
- Yes. (He takes around a minute to go through his receipt booklet. He gets to the last page.) My booklet has finished.
- Oh. Can you get another booklet?
- I will call my boss. (It is 10 pm. He tries calling.) Oh, no. My phone is not working. I don't have credit.
- (...)
- Do you maybe have a phone? With credit?
- We will pay tomorrow.

Apart from slow to zero service and communication problems, there is yet one more thing you should be ready for when you visit São Tomé. The kids. Barefoot kids coming up to you, taking your hand, repeating without understanding: Amigo, doce doce doce! (Friend, sweets!). And then they snatch your empty water bottle, Give me this! Give me something! Give me! This is what they were taught: they are poor and so they deserve something from the rich white people. You've no idea how persistent they are. And how hard it is to say no. And you must say no, you must. Because these children reflect the whole country's attitude. The people are passive, expectant. They don't want to work, they don't respect work. They want to eat and sleep and have things, but they never learned to earn them. The country relies on international help (80% of its budget), while the citizens never show any initiative unless there is a project, a magical word, which brings them foreign cooperation money and well-being. Of course, all projects end, white people leave, and there is noone to continue the work, the natives just don't want to do it when nobody is sending cash anymore. With the government indifferent to the people's needs, the ONGs are still at work and thus the vicious circle closes.

São Tomé is God's greatest project, a lady from Cabo Verde told us, but that's it with projects. Now it's time to get up and go to work. Changing people's mentality is, however, a rather daunting task, which takes decades of very hard work. It's not money we should share with the poor African states, it's our education and experience that they need. But how do we pass that on? In the next entry I will tell about a project that might last long after the white people have left.

THE COCOA PROCESS

You already know from my previous entries that in its time São Tomé was the greatest cocoa producer in the world. During our stay in the country we visited numerous plantations, nearly all of them abandoned. One of the few that still produce something is Roça Diogo Vaz, where we were introduced to the cocoa process. Interestingly, the Roça's workers still use all the facilities left by the Portuguese, so it was a bit like a visit to Warsaw's Technology Museum. Immensly interesting, though. Let me show you where your chocolate comes from.

Cocoa grows on little trees. They need a lot of humidity and shade, which is why there are always tall trees among the cocoa plants. There are two types of fruits - purple and orange. You pick them twice a year.

This what the fruit look like inside. You may chew on the grains, which are enveloped in this white stuff. The white stuff proved to be rather yummy.







Once the grains are picked, they go in the building labeled "Sector Tecnologia". It's interesting to see that the same tecnologia has been used here for the past one hundred years.








Then the grains are separated from one another and left to ferment. It doesn't smell pretty!







Later on, cocoa is left to dry. We've seen all types of dryers, the one in the picture being the most modern one, I suppose ("solar dryer"). Between the plastic and rocks there are the cocoa grains, smelling very pretty for a change.





Then the selection comes. You sit by a very very old machine and wait for it to spit out dried cocoa grains. You throw away the ones that are spoilt (how you tell them apart I don't really know).






And afterwards there is only the packing left. Sacks are filled with cocoa and ready to be exported. Most of them go abroad, only a small part is used to produce the very tasty local chocolate.

Simple, isn't it?

AS ILHAS MARAVILHOSAS: THERE AND BACK AGAIN

Our departure for São Tomé was uncertain to the very end, due to a strike at the island's airport. Luckily, it was dealt with the day before our flight and we got there on schedule on Sunday, 21st February. The trip was amazing, in many ways. São Tomé is more than just ridiculously beautiful beaches and abandoned plantations with colonial air. There is so much I want to tell you and so little time on my hands... But even so, I'll do my best to share as much as I can. Here we go, join me in discovering the island of São Tomé. Keep on reading the upcoming posts and check for new pictures here.