Layton Thompson Photography

As we mentioned in an earlier blog bost (Enter the Crater), we had the privilege of hanging out with a reporting team from Mission Aviation Fellowship. The photographer, Layton Thomson, is an incredible, soft spirited man with an amazing gift of capturing moments. Layton has done a lot of work for the non profit sector traveling the world, often volunteering his time. If you love photography or just want to see the beauty of the human spirit captured on film from around the world check out his website. I have many favorites but his series on “Collecting Water” is especially stunning.

Layton has graciously shared some of his work with us. Enjoy.

Hair braiding. Tchincombe Farm.

Kalukembe hospital village life. Families of the patients must stay near the hospital to provide food for their loved ones.

A mother feeding her baby in intesive care. Kalekembe hospital.

Dr. Foster - always teaching! Kalukembe hospital.

Brave little girl on the operating table.

Placing an oxygen mask on a little baby after surgery.

People waiting in the outpatients area at night in Kalekembe hospital. Inside Dr Steve Foster works late into the night doing consultations.

Dr. Foster examining a woman with typhoid fever. Unfortunately this woman passed away 2 hours after this photo was taken. Working with limited resources & against huge challenges, Dr.Foster gives his best day in and day out.

Ouch! This man was in a knife fight last year. He now has keloid scars (overgrowth of scar tissue) and requires steriod injections to help decrease their size.

Dr. Foster using a hand drill to place pins into the leg of a man who has a broken femur. Kalekembe hospital.

A new born baby being weighed in Kalekembe hospital.

Learning to sew. Class for women recovering from obstetric fistulas.

Learning to write. Fistula patients.

A worker demining. Angola was estimated to have 10 and 20 million landmines during the 25 years of civil war. This equates to at least 1 to 2 land mines for every person in the country! Thousands of Angolans have been injured from these landmines. Currently HALO project is demining in Angola.

Villagers carrying supplies from the airstrip to the village in Mukwando.

Villagers carrying supplies. Mukando.

Dr Steve Collins examining the eyes of the village chief in Mukwando.


Goodbye Angola

We have now left Angola and are spending a few weeks resting, recuperating and reflecting before returning home. It was a very busy 3 months that were stretching, rewarding and emotionally intensive. Daily life in Angola felt raw to us as we continually confronted the inequalities and injustices of a war ravaged country trying to heal in the hands of a corrupt government. Some days it felt overwhelming to acknowledge that positive change for the country will only happen when the government puts it’s people first and corruption is not the norm. While other days our spirits were strengthened as we witnessed the resilience of the Angolan people. Everyday there were opportunities to make a difference in the lives of the Angolans and we tried our best to join their work.

It was very difficult to leave the friends we had made, especially the women in the process of healing from obstetric fistulas. If you haven’t heard of this devastating condition please read an earlier blog post. I wanted to write one last time about one of the women we worked with, she has left sweet memories in our hearts and we want to share her story with you.

Maria comes from a rural area of Angola about 3 hours south of Lubango, she is from a people group that speaks Nhaneca. When she arrived at the hospital she was full of fear and apprehension as she tried to navigate the modern systems of an urban hospital. Maria speaks no Portuguese, fortunately a few of the staff speak Nhaneca and could help translate to Portuguese for me to hear her story. Upon talking with her I learned she did not know her age, the staff member helping translate guessed she was around 18 years of age. Birthdays aren’t typically celebrated here and it is rare for people to know the exact day they were born. She did come with her mother, which was reassuring to know she had some family support. Then the staff member that was helping me then went on to integrate Maria and ask her why she didn’t bring her husband to the hospital (I had not asked this!!). This part infuriates me – sadly the staff at the hospital have little sensitivity to the stories of the women suffering with obstetric fistulas – they fail to understand the social devastation the condition causes and repeatedly ask the women why they haven’t brought there husbands to care for them. (But this moment was not the time for me to lecture a staff member about their insensitivity – I needed this staff member to continue to translate for me). At one point the staff member looked at me, and gave me the –don’t-you-get-it-look and finally blurted out Maria was just a girl the village men used for sex.

"140 cm of sweetness" Photo compliments of Layton Thompson
“140 cm of sweetness” Photo compliments of Layton Thompson

Maria is a precious little thing – standing a 140 cm tall – but unfortunately it is her very petite’ness’ that brought on this grave condition. Her narrow teenage hips did not allow for the passage of her baby who therefore died in labour. I was horrified as I learned more of Maria’s story while caring for her. She went to the hospital when her baby did not come out after many days of labour pain, she does not remember all the details but she bears a scar where the baby came out via cesarean section. While working with Maria we discovered she also had her uterus removed when she had the cesarean section – but was not told of this. She would never be able to bear children again. This is not the first time I have heard of health care providers from government hospitals failing to tell women what procedures they have had done and it is not until they come to Dr. Foster for help with infertility that they discover their uterus was removed when they had a cesarean section. Unbelievable. Abuse and negligence by the health care system. If only these women had access to a decent lawyer and a system of justice that actually was about justice.

As I had said Maria was full of fear at the hospital. She sat wide-eyed in bed and trembled when the nurses would come near her. I found her more than once huddled under her blanket with a tear stained face. The morning after her surgery when I tried to get her up to wash, she acted like a tortured caged animal. She whimpered and cried as I ran the water for a bath, she almost ran from the bathroom. I felt so sick to my stomach, wondering what abuse this woman has previously suffered. I tried to reassure her and show her by getting myself wet that we were just going to wash. The situation that enfolded in the next 10 minutes was beautiful to witness. Maria slowly started to take the water from the bath and fling it over her, first ever so cautiously with her eyes fixed on me. She then began to smile as the water went everywhere, her arm was like an elephant trunk and water was soon being tossed to the ceiling. It was pure delight for me to watch the joy beaming from her; she began laughing as I was now laughing too. Water was absolutely everywhere, but I could have cared less (the floor could have used a washing) as this sweet girl had joy where there was once fear. Getting Maria up to wash after this was no problem.

My other favorite memory of Maria was during our afternoon classes. Maria had never held a pencil before. I couldn’t help but smile as she giggled away holding the pencil, for the first time, she kept saying ‘I can’t do it, I can’t write’ with a fist wrapped around the pencil. I wrote her name out so she could see how it looked and then she would sit for the next hour practicing to write her name. She would huddle over her paper so no one else could see. The first time it was an hour for her to write her name one time. Then she wrote it twice in 1 hour. When I left she could write her name in less than 10 minutes with a marker, her preferred writing tool. It was powerful to watch Maria learn to write her name. In our end of the world we take for granted the copious information and education we have access to, while there are people who can’t put into words their very own name.

So it is with sadness that we say goodbye to Angola. It was hardest to leave behind the women we worked so closely with, they were apart of our daily life in Angola and became friends to us. Our hearts were heavy knowing that we probably will never see them again, we couldn’t exactly exchange phone numbers or email addresses, as these are identities they do not hold. We are so thankful for the opportunity to have worked along side these women, they gave more to us then we could have ever given to them. So we remember the importance of living life in the moment and loving the people who are right in front of us. We hold closely our experiences of Angola and trust they will guide the way we live in the future. The future holds many possibilities and we are excited to see what we encounter. A piece of our hearts were left behind in Angola and so we do hope to one day return and find them.

Thank you to all of you who have been following along our journey through our blog. We have been so encouraged by your support, thoughts, comments, insights and prayers.

Below are a few pictures of our dear friends.

the ladies on our last day together

first sewing project - pretty little bags

Kev and the babysitter club - he developed quite the following by the kids from the hospital village

shoes for winter! thanks to your $ support we were able to outfit them in some stylin sneakers. these women all sleep outside and it is cold!

The Ugliness of Inequality

Today I scrubbed in on a cesarean section with the Angolan surgeon, who operates at the hospital a few times a week. The 40 year old mother was having her 7th baby by C/S as we have not been able to control her high blood pressure over the last week. As the mother would already be opened up she requested that she have a tubal ligation (i.e no more babies) done as well. Sounds pretty straightforward? Ha!

When the surgeon started talking to the patient he found out that she had not discussed a tubal ligation with her husband. So he adamantly refused to do the procedure for this woman. I gave him a raised eyebrow look, don’t get me wrong, I think this would be a very important decision for a husband and wife to discuss, but the more time I am here the more I realize how poorly woman are treated and have little say in what happens to their bodies. And if this country is going to have any improvement in the health of it’s population it is going to have to be done through empowering and educating women and giving them some choice when it comes to family planning. I know there are thick cultural barriers to transcend but I see this as a basic human rights issue. Anyhow, he could tell I wasn’t impressed so he launched into an explanation for me….

“You see Angela, it is very different in Angola, in our country the man owns the woman and so the man makes all the decisions about the woman. It is the man that decides when he has enough children, not the woman. So I will not do this procedure because the man is not here to tell me it is permitted”

Wow – Yes, you did just read that, and it came straight from the lips of someone who I would consider to be one of the most educated Angolan men in this country. And if that is how he thinks, what hope does this country have?! He even continued to tell me this was how it worked for his wife as well – he owns her and will decide how many children she will bear for him.

I bit my tongue and asked God for the right words as I was holding back some serious rage. Then some “fervent” words of mine were expressed which included telling him how outrageous, disgusting and horrendous his thoughts were. I may have also said that his way of thinking was poisonous and the country of Angola was going to suffer for many more years to come if this is how women are thought of and treated. I am not sure if these were God’s words but they were the words that came out. They certainly weren’t “culturally sensitive” and probably not the most effective way to communicate my concern, they were my opinions and sometimes you just get mad around here!

I also used the opportunity to tell him that real men would get a vasectomy – this caused the men in the OR to burst out laughing – which eased the awkwardness of the moment. On a side note, Dr. Foster has only done 2 vasectomies in over 30 years in Angola despite offering it to 100s of men who bring their wives in for tubal ligation.

Before the surgeon started he went to the other operating room where Dr. Foster was working, I could see a few words were exchanged. I was wondering if he told Dr.Foster I should be dismissed from the OR! But he came back silent and the surgery began with a little heat in the air. I wasn’t quite sure what would unfold for this woman or me. But moments later a beautiful pink screaming girl was born, and this child would complete this woman’s family.

She got her wish.

One small victory today.


We have been privileged to experience two trips to the Kalukembe hospital during our first two months here in Angola. The Kalukembe hospital is located in the interior of Angola, north and east of Lubango.

Swiss Missionaries started the hospital in the late 1800s; but the missionaries were forced to flee in the early 1990s when the civil war became too close for comfort (one of the many factions was using the dense forest on the mission for protection from aerial attack). Today, there are still the remains of several homes on the mission that were targeted and subsequently bombed during the war years. Kalukembe is also located in a lush, fertile valley that was slightly off the main slave trade route that ran east to west across Africa. The founding missionary purchased slaves from the traders and used this location as a haven until they could return to their families.

When I was here in 2005 we traveled to the hospital by truck, it was a 6-hour endurance test of unrelenting bumps, sinkholes, jostling, head banging, and bowel shaking trauma. Now, in 2010, we get to enjoy a short, scenic 40-minute flight – where the only bumps are the slight turbulence and the uneven terrain of the dirt airstrip.

The hospital has over 250 beds; which include a pediatric and maternity section. The patients that come to the hospital are all from the surrounding rural areas, they are the people in the world living on less than 2 dollars a day. What is most incredible about this hospital is that is entirely run by some of the most energetic and dedicated nurses that you will find anywhere in the world. Dr. Foster visits the hospital once a month for 3 days but other than that the nurses run the entire place. The hospital has had a hard time finding doctors who want to come work in a very isolated, resource poor setting. Dr. Foster has even trained the nurses to do several surgical procedures, including: cesarean sections and hernia repairs. The more complex procedures are saved for when Dr. Foster’s monthly visit – and complex cases are abundant!

From 5 years ago I can notice a huge increase in the number of patients in the hospital as a result of motor vehicle accidents. There were 2 rooms full of men in leg traction. There has been an explosion of motorcycles in Angola, thanks to China’s cheap prices, and while these motorcycles have allowed rural people access to transportation the downside is that they are being used recklessly and crippling many young men. Also a day before we arrived a flat bed truck carrying over 60 people broke it’s steering column while going up a hill and a nasty accident ensued. Killing 4 people and injuring many. When we arrived at Kalukembe the hospital was full of people who had been injured in the accident.

On our most recent trip in May, Dr. Foster managed to do close to 50 surgeries and 75 consults over a long 2½ days – nothing short of a miracle if you ask me. I helped 5 babies into the world and spent many long hours in the operating room. We had two emergency cases of bowel perforation due typhoid fever in 2 young boys. Two young boys came in with intense abdominal pain and with out an operation they both would have passed away. Unfortunately with out clean drinking water, typhoid fever will continue to kill.

We also had a one week old baby come in that looked like it had swallowed a soccer ball. Unfortunately this little baby did not have a properly formed exit hole in his digestive system (imperforated anus) and was full of air and partially digested milk. We put in a colostomy (brought the intestine to the outside of the body) and if the baby makes it to the first year of life, Dr. Foster will operate to again to open up the anus.

compliments of Layton Thompson photography

Other surgeries included: hernia repair, prostatectomy, hysterectomy, nephrectomy, cleft lip repair, chest tube placement, colostomy placement, obstetric fistula repairs and lots of orthopedic cases…..

Hydrocepahlus – a shunt was placed in the ventricles to allow CSF to drain into the peritoneal cavity.

This sweet little girl suffered a bone infection 2 years ago and did not receive proper treatment. She was not able to use her one leg and required a pin placed through her tibia so she could walk again. She sat outside the operating room the second day only to be turned away after 12 hours as too many emergency cases came in. Thankfully she was able to have an operation on our last day.

And the surgery that took the cake was removal of an ovarian cyst. This woman came in wondering when her baby was going to come as she had been ‘pregnant’ for over a year now. It turns out she had a 22 pound ovarian cyst inside her. Just crazy.

Go Directly to Jail, Do Not Collect Your $200

Over the past few weeks, Angela and I have been blessed to have a car. For the most part, this has been to our advantage – it has enabled us a large degree of freedom and the ability to check out and visit places previously unattainable on foot. However, it was only a matter of time before the car caused us some problems: ramshackle roads, dangerous drivers, tricky traffic rules, or psycho pedestrians. On Saturday, our fears came true and we were pulled over by the traffic police!

To be honest, I wasn’t all that worried at the time, I was fully convinced of my innocence – and, truth be told, I had no idea why I was being pulled over. However, after a quick glance at my ‘Alberta Driver’s License’, I got the feeling that this traffic stop was only beginning to get interesting. For the record: I did break Angolan traffic laws; however, in my defense, I feel that the whole situation reeked of entrapment. Here is the scenario for you: we were driving northbound on a typical Lubango road (limited pavement, crazy potholes, and basically pure chaos) when we reached an ‘uncontrolled intersection’. However, normally this intersection is a ‘controlled intersection’ – controlled by a traffic police officer stationed on a little stand in the middle of the road. This is a replacement system for the systemic lack of traffic lights in the province. Previously, when I had driven through this intersection with the traffic officer, you wait until he waves you on, and if turning you turn “In Front” of his/her little stand (placed in the middle of the intersection). However, on this occasion, the stand was present but it was empty; therefore, I waited for the traffic to be clear (no small feat) and then turned “In Front” of the empty stand – BIG mistake! The traffic police officers were waiting for me on the corner and waved me over. Apparently, when the stand is present but empty, you are suppose to turn “Around It” and NOT “In Front” of it – something that I was NOT aware of.

Anyway, we were soon pulled over, and the one officer took my license and walked away to discuss the matter with his fellow officer; this is where things get a little exciting! The one officer returned and asked me to join him out on the street with his fellow officer (remember, this is all in Portuguese, and while I can make myself understood, I have loads of trouble understanding the rapid Portuguese). They soon began to educate me on the finer points of Angolan Traffic Law while showing their disgust for my Alberta Driver’s License – apparently, not a common document found in Angola. After a brief monologue from the police officer’s they soon informed me that the fine was 8,000 KZS (about $80 CAD); and that it would be best if I went to a bank, got the cash, and then returned and paid them directly; especially, if I wanted to see my license again.

We had been warned about this policing style, and told to NOT pay any police officer on the street, and always pay at the police station. So, I was reluctant to do as they said, and after consulting with Angela, we decided to ask for an ‘official’ ticket and to go through the official Angolan channels. The officers were not pleased, and after taking about 20 minutes to consult their traffic law book – they came up with a new ‘official’ charge for me. It was all in Portuguese, so I had no idea what I was being charged with; but the good news was that the fine was reduced from 8,000 KZS to 4,250 KZS ($45 CAD). A turn for the good, but now I was on the hook to go through the Angolan process if I wanted to see my driver’s license ever again (it did occur to me to just walk away from my license, not pay the fine, and simply get a new one back in Canada; but, in the end I thought that it was a show of good faith to trust the system and to be a good citizen of the world).

So, on Monday my odyssey began – following the police officer’s suggestion – at the bank, where I was told I could pay the fine. However, that was NOT the case, as the bank had no idea what to do with the fine and had no ability to affect payment. They suggested I go to another bank and see if I might have better luck there. But, alas, no luck there either – same story, but with a different ending: this bank at least had the idea that I should go to the Ministry of Finance and see if I could pay there. So, off I went to the Ministry of Finance – following their rudimentary directions – to discover that YES, I could pay the fine there . . . however, I had to wait in a long line to get another document that gave me permission to pay the fine (only in Angola). Just as an aside – Angolans and lines just don’t mix that well, and for an orderly Canadian who diligently obeys lines, signs, and directions it is a learning experience. So after defending my space in line with nasty looks and in some cases physical violence, I finally got my permission slip so that I could pay my fine. Fortunately, the Ministry of Fiance is very adept at collecting fine payments and that part of the process went very well – except for having to spend the $45 CAD. However, the ordeal was not over, because I now had to find the Police Station and show them that I had paid my fine so that I could get my license back – after paying the $45 I was bound and determined to get my license back.

So, Tuesday afternoon, I made my way to the Police Station and entered the Bizzaro World of Police Stations. There must have been 50 people waiting to get their documentation back or to pick up their cars and other assorted things. However, no one was being allowed into the station; instead everyone had to wait, and wait, and wait, and wait. After an hour of zero activity I got fed up and left, with the hopeful thought that perhaps if I returned in the morning I would have better luck. So only Wednesday morning I went, early, to the police station and was excited to see only one person in line; this was a good thing. However, my enthusiasm was soon deflated when a female police officer informed me that I was not allowed into the station with shorts on, I needed to wear pants! So I sprinted home, changed into my nice pants, even put on a nice collared shirt, and sprinted back; however, by this time the line had grown to about people – not a good sign!

Before we finish this story, I wanted to share with you the five stages of emotional brokenness experienced at the police station:
Stage One: Hope – this is where everyone begins, with the hope that things will be efficient and effective; this is the shortest of the five stages, sometimes lasting as little as 2 seconds.
Stage Two: Amusement – this is where everything that happens is just amusing; the police officer looking in pile after pile after pile of paper for just the right document; the utter randomness of the process brings a smile to your face (mainly because it is someone else’s document that can not be found).
Stage Three: Sadness – this is when it dawns on you that the police office should be embarrassed by the situation, but he clearly is not; and then you realize that this is just how things are done here and it makes you sad because it could be done so much better.
Stage Four: Frustration – this is when your process starts and it is no longer amusing! Instead it is amazingly frustrating to watch the police office search through pile after pile of paper (the same piles that he has been looking through for the past hour) looking for your documents. The most frustrating part is the sheer helplessness of the situation: there is simply nothing you can do but sit there, watch the process unfold, and wait.
Stage Five: Despair – this sets in about 20 minutes after you sit down and the police officer starts their search; it is at this point that you realize that the chances of you getting your documents back (in this case my driver’s license that I just paid $40 CAD to get back) are slightly less than North Korea winning the World Cup.

However, after about an hour and a half wait, they were able to locate my Alberta Driver’s License and I was on my way – vowing to never drive in Angola again. That being said, I was back on the roads that afternoon, a little worse for wear, and certainly more wary of the traffic police. But in hindsight, and after hearing other people’s stories – some of which are simply outrageous – I believe that I did okay and was able to navigate the Angolan police system well and got away with a rather reasonable fine. Now I am the proud owner of the most expensive Alberta Driver’s License in history.

Cheers for reading.

Resurrection – A Video Tribute

This video is a long time coming – we have been experiencing about 6 weeks of internet connectivity issues – but I hope that you will find the story worth telling.

Earlier – during our time here in Angola – we had the opportunity to visit Cavango (a remote part of central Angola). This part of Angola was hit especially hard during the civil war, and the hospital that was established there (by Dr. Foster’s father) was completely destroyed. However, over twenty years later, life is returning to this area, and it was incredible to share in and celebrate Easter Sunday with the people of this area. We did write a Blog entry on this subject – called Resurrection – but the following is a brief video tribute to Cavango.

Enter the Crater

We have been abundantly blessed during our time here in Angola, and nowhere is this more obvious than in the generosity of Dr. Foster and MAF (Mission Aviation Fellowship). Through there warm generosity we have had the opportunities to fly all over Angola and see parts of the country that many people never get to see; and this past week was even more special.

Over the past week, MAF Angola has been hosting a reporter, photographer, and videographer to document to profound impact that MAF is having all over the country. This meant visiting (i.e. flying) to the various missions, villages, and projects that MAF supports and services; these projects include: hospital visits to Kalukembe, medical clinics in remote villages, de-mining projects in Northern Angola, and just about everything else in between. Angela and I have been fortunate to accompany this MAF team on a number of these experiences and it has been amazing to see and experience different parts of this beautiful country.

This past week was a particularly exciting experience as we got to fly into a remote village that just so happens to be located in the bottom of a large crater! This area – called Mukando – is comprised of a number of villages within the large crater basin, and it is a very remote existence. To get to Lubango (the nearest center) a villager has to hike down to the road – about 7-8 hours, and then wait/hope for a taxi to come by that can take them the remaining 6-8 hour drive. Usually this is done with a large amount of goods to trade, or perhaps with a sick person; so it is far more demanding then it would already appear. Basically, this community of about 1,200 people is completely isolated from the rest of Angola, and without the services of MAF and the willingness of Dr. Foster/Dr. Collins to visit them they would be completely without medical care or access to basic food supplies (salt, sugar, etc). However, these amazing, industrious people have made a wonderful life for themselves. They live surrounded by incredible beauty and ample agricultural land (corn is the primary crop), and they do their best to educate their children and to live in harmony with the world around them. Their spirit, joy, and hospitality was extraordinary, not to mention their strength, courage, and stamina as they live a hard, short life filled with trials and tribulations.

Dr.Collins fitting this lady with reading glasses. A great happy african danced ensued after this.

The only thing that surpassed the beauty of the people was the beauty of their surroundings. Imagine a large circular plain – about 10 kms in diameter – surrounded on all sides by towering 2,000 ft mountains. The plain is full of cattle and goats, with the occasional pig thrown in, loads of corn and the random stream providing a trickle of water here and there. It is truly stunning; and as we hiked a short distance up the side of the crater the sprawling landscape was ageless – the tools, technology, and way of life of these people remains relatively unchanged over the past 100 years: subsistence agriculture, living off the land, surviving or thriving as the land allows (abundant rain & sun or drought and famine). It was so peaceful – QUIET – and full of shalom; that fullness of peace as all of creation works in harmony – it was an incredible day.

However, the icing on the cake was that MAF was there to show off for the cameras and reporters, so this wasn’t your average flight from A to B; oh no! Leaving Lubango we headed West for the coast, and that meant flying over the large cliffs that dominate the western edge of Angola. Lubango sits at an elevetation of about 5,500 ft about sea-level, and the surrounding high plateau is at about 7,200 ft; however, the cliffs lunge down thousands of feet to about 3,000 ft about sea-level; it is absolutely spectacular! (On the darker side, during the war years, these cliffs were used as a convenient way to eliminate your enemies, one little push was all it took!)

Our pilot, Brent (a good Albertan boy) skimmed the top of the plateau and then proceeded to lunge the plane over these incredible thousand foot cliffs! WIth the cliff walls skimming the wing tips – with my stomach and heart in my throat my depth perception might have been a little off – we continued a rapid descent below the massive cliff walls. It was an incredible experience and perhaps only rivaled by some of the rides at the Calgary Stampede.

While in the crater we – Angela and I – were able to serve as ballast on the plane (Brent needed more weight in the plane) as he demonstrated the capabilities of the Cessna Caravan for the MAF videographer. This entailed a number of low-level passes of the runways, some extremely sharp bank turns, and to top it all off, a couple of extremely hard, high -G force turns while accelerating away from the runway – you truly had to experience that one, although I think that it may have fixed a lower back problem that I was experiencing.

The icing on the cake was the return flight, where we returned to the cliffs of Tundavala, and Brent gave us a scenic view of the entire cliff wall from about as close as I would want to get in an airplane. We saw the cliffs descending and ascending thousands of feet up and down, we saw beautiful waterfalls, and the majesty of the created world. It was as if we were in a Planet Earth episode, and the images will not be soon forgotten. We have included a few photographs for your enjoyment, but they really don’t do the place justice.

The cliffs of Tundavala

Objects may be closer than they appear

Angola is a beautiful land