Angolans Speak Portuguese

After leaving work early (the Internet stopped working at 2:30, so being a Friday, we called it an early day!), I went to the Namibian Culture & Tourism Expo with Ruth and Mark. We didn’t see too much about tourism, but we did spend quite a while pretending to examine cookware while sampling cheese, chocolate, pastries, and McCain potato products. They both left on their bikes, so I decided to walk to Mauera Mall to catch a cab. I hadn’t been to the mall yet and noticed there was a Checkers inside, so I figured I might as well pick up some groceries as long as I was taking the cab home.

It was getting dark around 5, and though there were a lot of people around the mall, I didn’t see any registered cabs around. When a man approached asking if I needed a taxi, I noticed a blond woman a few feet away in Dolce & Gabanna sunglasses eye the man suspiciously. I told the cab driver no, introduced myself to the woman, and ended up having a delightful hour and a half with Isabella. Advising those cab drivers are all “trouble,” she suggested I join her in the private cab coming to pick her up. Spending N$14 on a public taxi seemed more appealing than N$50 on a private service, but it was getting dark and it’s worth taking risks over a few bucks, so I thanked her and we waited for her car service.

The five-minute wait turned in to twenty, and twenty has soon turned in to an hour and a half. There was a café open nearby, she ordered espresso and smoked several cigarettes as I soaked up her wisdom and thoughts on living in Windhoek. She’s been living here for two years, raising two boys (10 and 16) while her husband works for a cement contractor of some sort in Swakopmund. I was surprised to hear her speak in Portuguese on the phone with her cab driver. He’s Angolan; I learned that many Angolans speak Portuguese, since the area was originally colonized by Portugese. I also learned that prices in Angola are much higher than Namibia – according to Isabella, where a top-notch dinner here with drinks might set you back thirty Euros, she said a nice dinner in Angola was over $100 Euros. Nuts.

I was excited she took me under her wing. She called to make sure I arrived home safely and invited me out for drinks tomorrow evening – there’s a South African singer she likes at a club in Klein-Windhoek. I think I’m going to go!