I Knew a Guy
When I was doing research to write the grant to study Angolan Art, I discovered the rock paintings at Tchitundu Hulu. However, I found little information on how to actually gain access to the rocks. I knew it was in the middle of the desert near a tiny village in Angola - and I knew someone in Angola, so I figured...I’m sure it will all work out. I wrote the rocks into my grant proposal and was awarded the grant. Had I known the incredible feat it would be to actually get to the rocks, I would not have even attempted. But I am so glad I did. And I am even more glad my dear friends are even crazier than I am.
Just to recap: In order to get to this point, a year ago I dreamed up visiting Robert and Teague in Angola. After 11 months of research, planning and visa applications I flew from Nashville to Amsterdam to Luanda to Huambo. After the 8 hour drive from Huambo to Namibe, Robert, Teague, the boys and I drove 2 hours through the desert to the tiny village of Virei. All this without any certainty that I would even be allowed to see the rocks--or know how to find them.
Once we arrived in Virei, we followed our friends, David and Dan, to a bright green house in the middle of town.
Out comes a very chipper man in a full suit greeting David and Dan like old friends. This is Pastor Tito. He is the contact the guys knew could get us through the appropriate channels to gain permission to see the rock art. Pastor Tito invites us into his mud house. Inside was a dirt floor, plastic chairs and a table. The only other items in the room was a bible and a notebook. We sat with Pastor Tito for a while and talked.
Through the open front door I could see a cluster of small children sitting on the porch looking in at us intently.
I could hear women singing in the next house over. There was a mud brick oven in the yard and a small boy herding cows across the yard.
After a few minutes we loaded back in the vehicles with Pastor Tito.
First we make a stop to announce our presence to the Special Police. (Please excuse the lack of pictures for this part. It is illegal to take pictures of government buildings or people.)
Then we go to announce our presence at the police station. Passport information is hand written in a large book.
Next, we go to meet with a representative from the city administration. We are told at this point that we will need to be granted permission by the Grand Soba (the chief of the village).
We go to find the Grand Soba. He wasn’t home.
So we go to the Assistant Soba. He wasn’t home.
Then we went to the nephew of the Grand Soba to see if he knew where his uncle was. He didn’t.
So we went back to the police station to explain we could not obtain permission from the Grand Soba.
At this point I knew we were at a crossroads. They would have compassion on us or not.
Thankfully, they allowed us to continue on with a police escort named Romeo. Romeo got in the Land Cruiser with me and the Meyers and we parted ways with David and Dan.
As we headed toward the rocks I thought, I can’t believe I knew a guy, who knew a guy, who knew a guy, who knew a guy who is taking us to ancient rock art in the middle of the desert in Africa.