Angola

About twenty years ago, I was a member of a UNDP sectoral study team in Huila Province, Southern Angola. I visited some interesting places, and I will tell you about three of them. Remember that at this time, Angola was torn and made wretched by a long civil war.
First visit: to a hostel for war orphans, where they were housed, clothed and fed, and where some attempt was made to train them in useful skills. They had a printing shop and they had contracts to print all sorts of leaflets and documents for the government. This they did on those old style mechanical printing presses where you pull the plate down with a big handle. In the corner was a brand new printing press, a chrome-and-steel monster that could do everything. Except that it ran on electricity and there was no electricity. Except that it was complicated and nobody knew how to operate it. It was a gift from Belgian Oxfam, I think.
Second visit: to a similar establishment where the local industry was tile-making, given that the clay in that area was abundant and of good quality. The locals made their tiles in the tradiitional way, using simple moulds and ground-dug kilns. Nearby was a state-of-the-art tilemaking machine, donated by another Aid Agency, I forget which. But it wasn't used because it needed electricity and there was no electricity. And it was complicated and there was no manual and nobody trained to use it.
Third visit: to a Health Centre. I was lucky to get there because rebel guerrillas were close by. It was the health facility for a refugee camp of some 3000 refugees. It was also the health resource for all the surrounding villages. maybe another 1500 souls. It consisted of a two-roomed hut, mud floor, thatched roof, and two medics whose training was equivalent to a crash course in First Aid. Medicines consisted of aspirin and some boxes of plasters. Those two worked their hearts out with the limited means at their disposal. Later, I visited the Minister of Health in the capital, Luanda, and he told me of all the new hospitals he had built, and of the thousands of doctors and nurses that he had trained. And I wanted to kill him.
I had been on assignment to Angola before, and I went again. But only once more. After that, I couldn't take it any more. I hope you can understand and forgive me.