October 1992 – In a C-130 flight, that took over 20 hours (with two technical stops of one hour in Cape Verde and Saint Tomé & Prince) we flown from Lisbon (Portugal) to Luanda (Angola). When the Hercules finally reached the vertical of Luanda, the pilot made a wide traffic pattern, which permitted us to have a good look of Angola’s Capital. The City Center was made of nice avenues, with beautiful colonial villas and tall buildings bordering the seaside. Beyond that it was a never-ending musseque; a confusing huddle of small houses made of clay and zinc sheets roofs. Over 70% of Luanda’s two million inhabitants lived there.
During landing, I noticed that Luanda’s International Airport was militarized, with lots of communication and radar antennas alongside with warfare paraphernalia distributed between the taxiways and the runway. However, the equipment that attracted my attention the most were three rusty vehicles, standing still beyond the aircraft apron tarmac. I felt I knew what those vehicles were; but I could not correlate the object with the situation. I was facing one of those surrealist scenes that moved against the stereotype. Something like a ship stranded in plain desert, which got me confused and very curious.
When we disembarked there was a small delegation of the United Nations and the Portuguese Embassy waiting for the group of ten Portuguese Air Force Officers, selected to run the United Nations air campaign for Angola’s first free elections.
I asked one of the Embassy military staff members what were those vehicles, rusting on the tall grass, which seemingly haven’t been used for a very long time.
– “Those are snow-cleaners from the Soviet aid to Angola”. – Someone answered.
–“So that’s what it is … but … snow-cleaners?! In Angola? – I asked, controlling myself not to laugh and offend someone.
–“Yes, of course” – Replied my interlocutor – “For the Soviet any International Airport worth of that category had to have snow-cleaner … the geographic latitude was a mere detail. They have sent a lot of equipment to help Angola. Apparently the snow-cleaners were on the Airport aid kit.”
Obviously those machines were never used (at least not for its original purposes) and were rotting on the same spot they were unloaded. These “out of context” machines became the surrealistic push I needed to start drawing cartoons, and writing mission logs, in every mission I made throughout my military carrier. Something that latter on was of particular use, because in Peace Support Operation one is not supposed to take pictures, in order not to be accused of intelligence gathering for the opposing faction. Those mission logs and cartoons (that I still keep) are the living memory of many, many, weird but interesting situations that I would like to share with you.
OPen samento 