OK.
I left the UN compound one evening in Lubango, a city in the mountains of southern Angola and headed in the direction of the lights of what I suspected must be a small local community up the hill to the south. I was advised not not do so, but sometimes I prefer interest over advice. So I set off on foot and found a path that led me up to that place. In anticipation of what I thought I might find, and since I had cooking facilities at the house in the compound, I strapped on an empty back pack and sure enough there were a myriad of ladies tending tables of every kind of vegetable and fruit you could think of. And so I shopped, and I did so in a way anyone would at home, but with more fun. I would pick up an onion, have a look, and I would hear one of the ladies close by telling me she had much better onions over here, but it wasn't in a way to fight for sales, but rather to please the customer. And this customer was the only white face in the place. I picked up an onion here, a green pepper there, mangoes, tomatoes, cucumber. During the process one of the men appeared from the back room and asked me where was I from. You could see the lights from the compound from the perch we were on and so I pointed and said well at the moment I am coming from there, but I am a Canadian, and I'm here trying to help the UN figure out who actually won that election. Well with that announcement I was invited into the back rooms to sit and talk with the men and the women at table because they said they had a lot of respect for Canadians. Of all things, a bottle of Scotch whiskey was produced, one of my favorites, and we chatted at length. I finally did head back down that path as I did have to work the next day, and besides having a back pack filled with some lovely organic things to eat, I have some organic thoughts and memories I would not have had I stayed in the compound and watched TV.