Paul Morris - Back to Angola: A Journey from War to Peace

Published by Zebra Press

an imprint of Random House Struik (Pty) Ltd

Reg. No. 1966/003153/07

Wembley Square, First Floor, Solan Road, Gardens, Cape Town, 8001

PO Box 1144, Cape Town, 8000, South Africa

www.zebrapress.co.za

First published 2014

Publication Zebra Press 2014

Text Paul Morris 2014

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owners.

PUBLISHER: Marlene Fryer

MANAGING EDITOR: Robert Plummer

EDITOR: Beth Lindop

PROOFREADER: Bronwen Leak

COVER AND TEXT DESIGNER: Jacques Kaiser

TYPESETTER: Monique van den Berg

ISBN 978 1 77022 551 0 (print)

ISBN 978 1 77022 552 7 (ePub)

ISBN 978 1 77022 553 4 (PDF)

To Jen

Contents

Preface

This book is partly about my experiences as a conscript soldier in Angola in 1987, a story that I tell mostly from memory. Some of it was recorded in the bush in grubby notebooks, but mostly it was burned into my mind during those intense and terrifying days of war. As a remembered story that has been filtered through more than two and a half decades of life, its meaning has been moulded over time, changed by so many experiences, so much learning and personal growth.

The events I relate here all happened. Though others may remember them differently, this is my truth. This book reflects how I have made meaning of those events. It records my own personal journey to understand my involvement in the war.

This is not a work of military history. There are many such works available for those interested in the details of the battles that took place between Mavinga and Cuito Cuanavale. I was a rifleman, the lowest rank in the infantry, and this account reflects all the misunderstandings, ignorance and rumour that were so common among rank-and-file conscripts. If there are inaccuracies in my account, and Im sure there will be, then they reflect my experience. I have related a selection of stories from the war to highlight my need to return to Angola. There are many more.

This book also tells the happier story of my return to Angola a quarter of a century after the war. A voluntary return rather than the enforced visit I endured as a conscript. It reflects the end of a lifetimes journey of coming to terms with the war.

Some of the names in the book have been changed either to protect the persons identity at their request, or because I have no intention of compromising or embarrassing someone who might have done or said something when they were very young that they may regret today.

I could not have had the experience I had without the love, assistance and support of a great number of people. I will try and fail to thank them all here. I have had so many conversations with friends and strangers both before and after my return to Angola and if you are one those people who offered supportive words, you should know that you helped me stay strong and committed at different stages of this journey.

Here are my thanks in no particular order. Patrick Ricketts who generously offered his time and vehicle to take me to Cuito Cuanavale to start the bike ride. Martin Connell for his moral as well as medical support and also for his detailed reading of the manuscript. Theresa Edlmann for her insights and support on every level, including financial support via the Legacies of Apartheid Wars Project and Atlantic Philanthropies, but mostly for her friendship. Paul Weinberg for his encouragement and material assistance including the loan of a video camera. Mark Behr who kindly spent time reading the early manuscript and giving valuable suggestions on how to improve it though I doubt Ive done them justice. Steve Coward, my former roommate in Hong Kong who gave advice on cycle touring kit. Julian Hocken of the Halo Trust in Angola, for his vital advice on the minefield situation. Paul Wesson of Eco-Tur for his input regarding travelling in Angola.

Louise Redvers for allowing me to mine her knowledge of Angola. Richard Wallstein, who through his experience and intuition proved that a therapist does not need personal experience of war to work effectively with a former combat soldier. Im also grateful to my old friend Grant Fry for agreeing to be part of my emergency team with my brother, Neil, who is always there for me. My mum and dad for providing a loving home before and after the army, without which my post-war disorientation would have been worse.

Thanks also to the team at Zebra Press: Marlene Fryer for seeing value in my story, Beth Lindop for turning my rough work into a book and for her gentleness with a first-time author, and Robert Plummer for his calm and experienced handling of the overall business of getting me through the process.

The most special thank you must go to all the Angolans and Namibians who were so kind, generous and hospitable towards me on my journey. Over the course of my journey through their countries they showed me the lived meaning of the word Ubuntu.

To my dear friends Deon Nel and John Oertel; we endured the fear, filth and flies of the war in Angola. I thank them for their support back then, and for their continued friendship and support today. Our friendship is something no outsider could possibly understand.

Finally, thanks to my wife, Jen, for all her love, support and unwavering belief in me, in spite of her concerns for my safety.

PAUL MORRIS

CAPE TOWN

JANUARY 2014

Southern Angola and northern Namibia

Based on a map in the Perry-Castaeda Library Map Collection, US Central Intelligence Agency

Cuito Cuanavale, Angola, 24 June 2012

Im so full of war and feelings I cant explain. Feelings that swirl and suck like the sea in a rock pool on an incoming tide. Tears narrow my throat and I swallow hard because Im with people I dont know. Id swallow harder still if I did know them. This place is thick with the past, layers of it piled atop the sand on the ridge. It rusts away slowly in its armoured wrecks and in my soul. I am deep in my own history; it stares boldly at me and I cant look away.

Im nervous and reluctant to start the ride. I fiddle with kit and pack slowly, strapping my tent, sleeping bag and sleeping mat to the bicycles carrier. Im in a strange in-between place: I want to get going, to feel the road moving under my wheels, yet Im afraid of what it might reveal. This is Angola, after all.

I had to lie to get a visa: No, Ive never visited Angola before. Ive never had a visa application rejected. But I have visited before. I didnt need a visa then because I was riding in eighteen tons of armour, part of a large and formidable military force. The Angolans did refuse me entry: somewhere on the Lomba River I was met by their army, which tried to stop me and several thousand like me. But I dont mention any of this on the visa application form.

Adrenaline is trickling lightly through my veins and a cold knot of anxiety is tied in my gut. I know Ill be all right; I know that the beginnings of journeys like this are always fraught with fears, real and imagined. My mouth was dry when I forced down my Jungle Oats breakfast, and its dry now as my nervous fingers clumsily make adjustments to my load.