Crossing the border at Oshikango we left behind a stable, well developed Namibia and entered Angola - a country only now finding its feet having been devastated by a 40 year civil war. Signs of the recent conflict can be seen everywhere. Russian tanks lay abandoned by the roadside, bullet holes are sprayed across buildings and signposts warn of nearby mines. Yet, this is the country in which we’ve found the most open and welcoming people. When stopped by the side of the road it’s not uncommon to be given free beer, food or even petrol. The Portugese and Brazilian influence makes Angolans the ‘coolest’ Africans thus far!

Following a hassle free border crossing we rode to Lubango and then Namibe on the Atlantic coast. We quickly got used to riding on the ‘right’ side of the road again, having spent the last few months on the left. Angola is notorious for its bad (or lack of) roads. But things are changing quickly. Chinese construction crews are building roads throughout Angola at a lightning pace and it won’t be long before silky smooth asphalt covers the whole country. In fact the Chinese are not only building roads but stadiums and whole shopping complexes. From what we hear they are able to build at a cheaper price then the competition because their workers are actually Chinese prisoners (obviously working for free)!!

In the meantime, some serious off-roading is still the norm and the coastal road from Namibe to Benguela was no exception.

There are some really cool fishing villages along the way and the colourful Cubali women are an attraction in themselves. At least for the men anyway…

Everyone was excited to see us. The lack of European (white) tourists has the locals dancing for joy (literally)! It’s an awsome sight and something we’re lucky to experience now, as in a few years it will undoubtedly change…

200km before Luanda we were stopped by a passing motorist. His name was Jorge. Also a motorcycle enthusiast he was keen to hear our story. It wasn’t long before we were following Jorge to his home in Luanda, having accepted his invitation of free accommodation. In a city where the cost of living has exceeded that of Moscow and the cheapest hotel is around US$80, we didn’t have to think twice. Angola is an ‘oil rich’ country awash in cash. Everybody wants a piece of the action and Luanda’s population is growing faster than its inflation rate. The resulting traffic jams are something else…

We met a couple of Jorge’s buddy’s from the local motorcycle club “Amigos da picada”. They were super friendly and eager to help with our trip. Each chipping in with some free goodies for Kamil and the bike (Obrigado amigos!). A couple of them (along with Jorge) then decided to accompany us all the way to Kinshasa in the DRC (over 1,000km’s away)!!

Apparently north of Luanda is where the ‘real’ Africa starts. We got a ‘taste’ of this during our first breakfast stop. The menu included monkey! But they were out of stock, so we had to settle for antilope The further north we rode the worse the roads became. Burnt out and crumpled houses littered the countryside. Unexploded mines are a real threat so we weren’t too keen on bush camping and gladly accepted an invitation from the local chief of Damba to spend the night at his house.

The following day was the first of three very tough days. We averaged around 100km per day spending 10 hours in the saddle (and more than once out of it). After the first day we reached Maquela do Zombo. The road was extremely sandy and rutted. It was hot and the going was tough. We only took short breaks to catch our breath and sample the local palm wine “Marufu”.

On the second day, somewhere from within the jungle appeared the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) border. Formalities were smooth but slow. We had overstayed our Angolan 5 day transit visa by 4 days, but no-one seemed to notice. On the DRC side things got even slower. With the change in language (to French) came a change of culture as well. Official introductions were followed by a close inspection of passports and notation of personal details. All this was repeated four times in four separate shacks/offices. It was amusing in the beginning but the novelty wore off after 3 hours!

A reminder of the colonial past…

The road on the DRC side can only be described as tragic. It didn’t help when the heavens opened up and it quickly turned into a river of mud…

… sometimes disappearing completely.

By the time we reached tarmac on the third day, the list of damages included a cracked oil sump, two broken mirrors, a bent headlight frame, smashed plastic fairings, a couple of ‘loosely’ fitting side boxes and a US$300 bribe scammed out of our friends for supposedly having invalid visas. All in all a lot of fun

Roadside repairs of leaking oil sump…

With the boys on their way back to Luanda, we’re continuing onto Kinshasa. Our first impressions of DRC a mixed. The people seem friendly enough but can’t help begging at every opportunity. They either rub their stomachs and put out their hand or yell “White guy, white guy, money!” The country side is fertile and teeming with fruit, so it’s hard to believe these people are really starving. We suspect the real reason is the large number of humanitarian organisation in the area. A result of the recent civil war.