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As Terras do Fim do Mundo

a trip to the "Land at the end the Earth"

I made my first trip to Mavinga in 1961 with my uncle Armando. Uncle Armando was a truck driver and transported Contratados (contracted labour) from Mavinga to Gabela in the hearth of the coffee region of the north of Angola. Uncle Armando was my raw model when I grew up. He was the rebel of his generation. Single, adventurous, fun to be with, good storyteller and a tremendous companion. Most of my trips before my parents moved to Mavinga were with my uncle Armando.

Sleeping near the river was not very comfortable. The temperatures would drop below zero in the earlier hours of the morning and the cacimbo (dew) would wet all our blankets ( we did not have sleeping bags or tents). As the sun raised we would gather around the camp fire, half numb with the cold and would have coffee, bread with butter and any left overs from the night before.

My uncle Armando and I in his house in Portugal

The crossing would take most of the morning and therefore we all stopped on the other side of the river to have lunch, check the truck and ensure the load was well secure because things use to get rough from then on.

I loved tuna rice and therefore this was the first thing I learned to cook. My mala do rancho (box with provisions for the trip) was full of tins of tuna and rice and that was the basis of my diet during the trip. Every truck in Africa use to have an Ajudante (helper) and my uncle Armando's ajudante was called Kinda. A big fellow with some fingers missing from one hand, the result of an accident. Kinda was a good mechanic and very experienced getting us out of trouble when the car got bogged down in the savannas.

From Cuito Cuanavale the road was a sort of a multiple choice of tracks. The soil was sand (beginning of the Kalahari Desert) and therefore when the track got too deep one would start another a little bit to the right or left. During the hot part of the day we used the hand accelerator and sat on the top of the cabin to cool down.

The trucks would follow the road like a train on its tracks. To get out of the road one would have to dig a ramp in the sand, otherwise the truck was not able to jump the ridge. During the dry season we would drive most of the time in the savannah, but during the wet season we had to drive in the jungle because the savannah turned into a boggy wetland.

A picada somewhere in the Cuando Cubango

Between 11 and 4 o'clock in the afternoon we would rest; the heat was unbearable. Therefore we always had good lunches and long sestas (siestas) . Most of the time we would kill a cabra do mato (dik dik antelope) or a nunce (Southern Reedbuck ) and had nice stakes for lunch. Kinda always made pirão (cooked maize) for his meals and we shared it with him sometimes, when we were tired of tuna and rice.

From Cuito Cuanavale to Dima, the next village, there were two major obstacles to overcome. The Chana da Chambinga and the Mikango. These two bits of road tested the skills of the drivers and the strength of the trucks. In the dry season the powder like sand resembled “quick sand” , in the wet a flooded plain where a car could get bogged so deep we could not see the wheels.

Dima - photo taken during my Army times

With no trees to tie a winch it was a major test of endurance and ingenuity to free the truck. The trucks were fitted with “balloon” tires at the back (extra large single tyros) and the best they could do was 10 to 15 km/h. Once passed these two obstacles the rest was only a matter of time and perseverance.

Dima was situated 60 km from Mavinga and was a minuscule “village” with three houses: two comerciantes (shop owners) and a Chefe do Posto (government officer). Dima was situated on the top of a small hill overlooking a valley that run all the way to Zambia. From Dima the next landmark was the Lomba River, 20 km from Mavinga. From there we could almost smell the food from my mother's kitchen.

Mavinga was an “important” village in the almost forgotten province of Cuando - Cubango. Two roads in a shape of a plus sign with houses on both sides, made the village. The roads were marked by two rows of orange trees. During the orange season, Mavinga provided a nice change of diet for people passing through or living in the area.

The Cubia river ran a few hundred meters from the centre of the village and provided a place for people to wash the trucks, swim and even catch some fish for dinner.

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