I remember well how the heat struck me in the face upon exiting the plane in Angola, I also remember well that I was sitting beside my father on the plane from South Africa to Angola, and that when we were close enough to the ground to see the houses in which people live I asked him "Dad, you said that the people were very poor, but if they are, why do they have all these little storage-houses". My father replied "They are not for storage. They are for living in, there can live about 10 people in each." Firstly then I understood how poor they really were, and how lucky I was to live like I do.

I will not continue to detail everything such, but I also remember well my first drive, which was from the airport to our house. I was shocked and cannot describe it. I honestly can't! After a quite long car-ride we arrived at our new house. After arriving in our camp I didn't exit it for the first week and the first time I did was early Monday morning, to go to school.

I quite quickly got used to see the poverty, and after a few months the ride to school, which took between 30 and 60 min (however, the record was 120 min, and we had to give up twice in the rain season), got boring. After some time the main road was half the way closed down, and the ride took much longer time until we discovered an alternative road, which soon became very busy. This road went through a neighbourhood, the small road had not been worked on for several years, and asphalt was rare, the positive side of this new route was that I got more understanding for the morning-rituals of the people. I soon felt like home when entering the place, and soon , like everybody else, I felt like I knew the different people. We would sit in the car and look out and say things like "there's the weird man who always wear so many t-shirts," or "that's the woman who sells clothing in the afternoon".

What I experienced while I was in Angola cannot be summarized briefly as it was a lot, but I will write about a few of the different things we did that I enjoyed. First on that list the Hash, a run which we did every second Saturday, and the Fun Fun, which was more serious and every Friday afternoons. The Hash, was more of a social gathering in which we drank beer (or soft drinks) and ran, I would assume that the average runner did not get anything slimmer as all the calories burnt under the run (or walk) were replaced afterwards from beer and Coke.

When I was not running with the Hash or the fun run I often ran with my dad, whom I quite quickly outran, therefore I was alone, a little in front of him. I cannot say that this ever resulted in any situation which was not positive for me, and I really miss it. Only once, on one of my first runs, I got a lit cigarette almost burning my face, but if this was an accident or on purpose I don't know. All I know was that it did not repeat itself.

For my 13th birthday I got a kayak, and (almost) every Sunday from then me and my dad went kayaking, often as alternative transport to the beaches, but sometimes also for the experience itself. I brought my Kaskazi kayak to Norway, but the waters here are cold, and I do miss the warm African sea and the endless beaches. I was also body-surfing and water-skiing, both which I ended up being pretty good at.

The above listed things are minor, they were more like the spice in the dish. The more important things were all the things I learned, all the things I started to appreciate and all the things I understood. I started to understand what the hippies, punk and anarchists meant, why they have (or had) the ideals they have (or had) and most important of all: what the ideals really were. In the western world most things seems to be very shallow, while during my stay in Angola I went into deeper sea to explore what is found far below.

One of the experiences I always will remember was at sea. I was out kayaking with my father and we had come quite far apart. Things were quiet and my thoughts were floating around. Then, out of nowhere I saw a head, approximately the size of the head of a big dog, come out of the water and disappear a little after. My father had seen the same and called for me. We were pretty sure it was a tortoise, something we had wanted to see for a long time. After some more bodywork we had landed on the Ilha de Mussulo. At the point we were it is quite small, and we carried the kayaks across. There, in the water in front of us laid a huge tortoise. I would guess it was one meter across the shell and two meters long. This was such a lovely sight, and the animal made me think, in a kind of sad way. The reason? I don't know, maybe the mystics around such animals today, maybe its beauty or maybe because I knew what people do to these animals?

Many people who have been to Africa says that it opens for thought, and that is true. I think, perhaps we feel at home when we get to where our species originated? Or that the natural beauty offered for your enjoyment is so great, you get overwhelmed. My mother said that some people love Africa, I must be one of them.