Tribal Stay with Muila People in Southern Angola

Reaching My Final Country in Continental Africa

A Journey to Angola and the Tribes of the South

In April 2022, my wife Paula, our friend Jimmie, and I traveled to Angola as part of a multi-country trip across Africa. Angola was our final stop, marking the completion of a long-held goal — to visit every country in continental Africa.

Reaching this milestone was both surreal and deeply satisfying. But Angola was never meant to be just a symbolic destination. I wanted to experience the country beyond its capital, beyond its scars from years of conflict, and into its vibrant, living culture. Specifically, we were drawn to the southern region, where indigenous tribes still preserve ancient customs and traditions.

A Visa at Last

For years, Angola had been one of the most challenging African countries to visit, primarily due to its difficult visa process. In the past, obtaining a tourist visa often meant navigating complicated bureaucracy, submitting endless paperwork, and waiting weeks for approval. It was a process that deterred even the most determined travelers.

But recently, Angola introduced an electronic visa system. Suddenly, access was simplified, and the door opened. This was the perfect opportunity — and I wasn’t going to let it pass.

The Call of Southern Angola

While the bustling capital of Luanda has its own layered history and urban charm, it was the south that called to us. This region is one of the last places in Africa where traditional tribal customs remain largely intact. In a world where globalization has rapidly transformed indigenous ways of life, Angola’s remote south offers a rare glimpse into a more authentic cultural existence.

Our goal was clear — to spend time among the Muila people, an ethnic group known for their vibrant beadwork, elaborate hairstyles, and striking body ornaments. The Muila live in the mountains outside Lubango, and we planned to camp with them, immersing ourselves in their traditions, hearing their stories, and understanding their connection to the land.

It wasn’t just a cultural experience I was after — it was a chance to witness resilience. While many indigenous communities across Africa have faced rapid change and cultural erosion, the Muila have held onto their identity. I wanted to listen, learn, and appreciate that strength firsthand.

An Unforgettable Final Chapter

As we crossed into Angola, I couldn’t help but reflect on the long road that had led me here — the vibrant markets of West Africa, the dense rainforests of the Congo, the vast deserts of the Sahel, the proud traditions of East Africa, and the wildlife-rich landscapes of the south. Each country left its mark. And now, with Angola, the final piece of the puzzle was in place.

Angola’s Complex Past and Uncertain Present

A Nation of Wealth and Wounds

Though Angola is now known as one of Africa’s leading oil producers, the wealth from its vast reserves has failed to reach most of its people. The country ranks among the most expensive in the world, yet widespread poverty persists. For the average Angolan, the gleaming towers of Luanda’s oil-funded skyline are a distant world — a harsh contrast to the realities of daily life.

It’s a paradox that shapes much of modern Angola. And it’s one that visitors can’t help but notice.

A Portuguese Legacy

As a former Portuguese colony, Angola’s cultural identity is deeply tied to Portugal’s influence. The Portuguese language remains the country’s official tongue, and echoes of colonial rule can be seen in the architecture, the cuisine, and even the mindset of its people. Unlike other African nations where colonial languages often compete with indigenous ones, Portuguese dominates here, serving as a unifying thread in a diverse society.

But Angola’s relationship with its colonial past is not one of nostalgia. The struggle for independence was long and bloody, and its scars are still visible today.

The Cost of Independence and Civil War

Angola’s fight for freedom from Portugal erupted into a devastating war — one that lasted decades and claimed as many as 800,000 lives. Yet even after achieving independence in 1975, peace remained elusive. The country quickly plunged into a brutal civil war, fueled by Cold War politics and foreign intervention.

It was a conflict that pulled in powerful players from around the world. The Soviet Union and Cuba, under the influence of Che Guevara, provided support to Angola’s socialist forces. Meanwhile, the CIA funneled resources to opposition factions, and even South Africa’s apartheid regime became entangled, fighting to prevent the spread of communism. Angola’s rich oil reserves and strategic location on Africa’s western coast made it a battlefield not only for its own people but for competing global ideologies.

The war officially ended in 2002, but the damage remains. Vast swaths of the country are still heavily mined, making Angola one of the most landmine-ridden nations in the world. Every Angolan family has its stories of loss.

Our guide in southern Angola was no exception. He spoke with quiet resignation about how he had lost most of his brothers to the war — a grief that echoes through countless households across the nation.

Symbols of a Soviet Influence

Angola’s past continues to shape its identity today. The country’s socialist-leaning government emerged victorious from the conflict, and its national symbols reflect that legacy.

The Angolan flag is a striking reminder of its Soviet ties. With its red and black design, adorned with a half gear and machete, it is unmistakably inspired by the Soviet Union’s hammer and sickle. It’s a flag that tells a story — of rebellion, of resistance, and of an ideology that left both hope and devastation in its wake.

For visitors like myself, Angola isn’t just a destination. It’s a living history. Every conversation, every village, every mined field speaks of survival. And with every step, you can feel the resilience of those who endured it all.

National Flag of Angola with a machete on it resembling the hammer and sickle of the Soviet flag. 

A Second Attempt: Finally Arriving in Angola

Patience, Persistence, and the Road to Luanda

Even though the visa process in Angola has become far more accessible in recent years, the country remains slow to open up to tourism. Few outsiders venture here. The scars of war, the economic divide, and a lingering hesitance to embrace mass tourism all contribute to Angola’s reputation as a challenging destination.

And then there was Covid-19.

When the world shut down in March 2020, Angola closed its borders to all but essential travelers. For nearly two years, the country remained mostly sealed off, further isolating it from the outside world.

A False Start in 2021

In November 2021, Angola briefly reopened its borders, and I jumped at the opportunity. I booked a flight from Mozambique and planned to finally set foot in my last continental African country. But just days before my trip, the world was hit with the news of the Omicron variant.

Angola responded swiftly, closing its borders once again — this time to all of Southern Africa. My flight was canceled, and my plans crumbled. I was frustrated but understood the reality of a world still battling the pandemic. Angola would have to wait.

This visit, in April 2022, was my second attempt. And this time, I made it.

Day 1: Landing in Luanda

After months of anticipation and uncertainty, my wife Paula, our friend Jimmie, and I finally arrived in Luanda, Angola’s sprawling capital city. But even now, the process of entry wasn’t exactly seamless.

Strict Covid-19 protocols were still in place. Upon arrival, we underwent a PCR test followed by a two-hour rapid test at the airport. It was a tedious but necessary step, one final hurdle before we could enter the country.

Finally, with negative results in hand, we were cleared to proceed. I had officially made it to Angola — the final piece in my journey to visit every country in continental Africa.

A Night in Luanda

We spent our first night in Luanda, the beating heart of Angola. The city is a reflection of the country’s complexities — towering skyscrapers built on oil wealth stand in stark contrast to sprawling informal settlements. It’s vibrant, chaotic, and brimming with energy.

We didn’t linger long. Our sights were set on the south. The next morning, we boarded a flight with TAAG Airlines, Angola’s national carrier, bound for Lubango. It was there that our true adventure would begin — a journey into the lands of the Muila people and a glimpse into one of the most resilient and authentic cultures in Africa.

Day 2: Arrival in Lubango — Gateway to Angola’s Tribal South

From the Skies to the Highlands

After an hour-long turboprop flight on TAAG Airlines, we descended into Lubango — a city perched in Angola’s rugged highlands, serving as the gateway to the country’s tribal south. Unlike the frenetic energy of Luanda, Lubango felt immediately more relaxed. The air was cooler, the streets quieter, and the mountains framed the skyline in every direction.

This was Angola at a different pace.

Meeting Our Guide

At the small regional airport, we were greeted by our driver and guide, Don Ozio. From the moment we met him, it was clear we were in good hands. Don wasn’t just a guide — he was a storyteller, a cultural bridge, and a walking encyclopedia of Angola’s history. Fluent in several tribal languages and deeply familiar with the region, his experience went beyond tourism. When he wasn’t leading travelers through the remote south, he worked as a police officer — a role that had undoubtedly given him a broad understanding of the country’s complexities.

His calm demeanor and warm laughter immediately put us at ease. Over the next few days, Don would become not just our guide but our window into the world of Angola’s indigenous tribes.

A City of Contrasts

Lubango itself is a city that wears its past on its sleeve. Its streets are dotted with remnants of Portuguese colonial architecture — whitewashed buildings with arched windows and rusting iron balconies. Time has weathered many of these structures, but their presence remains a reminder of the region’s colonial history.

Yet, like much of Angola, Lubango also feels like a place in transition. Chinese construction projects are visible, evidence of Angola’s growing economic ties with China. Markets hum with vendors selling everything from textiles to electronics, and the rhythm of local life moves steadily forward.

A Taste of Angola

That evening, we checked into a cozy lodge on the outskirts of town, surrounded by the cool mountain air. The atmosphere was simple and welcoming — a comfortable respite after a day of travel.

For dinner, we were served a traditional Angolan meal that brought the country’s culinary influences to life. Grilled meats, rice, and cassava were the staples, along with the rich, spicy flavors characteristic of Angolan cooking. We paired our meal with locally produced red wine, which was surprisingly bold and full-bodied — a reminder of Angola’s diverse agricultural heritage.

As the sun dipped behind the hills and the shadows stretched across Lubango, we toasted to the journey ahead. Tomorrow, we’d head deeper into Angola’s tribal south — a place where ancient customs endure, untouched by the rapid changes of the modern world.

Day 3: Preparing for the Journey to the Muila

Shopping, Change Troubles, and the Reality of Travel

On the morning of our third day in Angola, the excitement of finally venturing into the tribal south set in. But before we could hit the road, we had a few tasks to tackle.

The first was grocery shopping. Since we had opted for the most basic travel package — meaning we would be responsible for our own food, cooking, and fuel — we needed to stock up. The lower cost of the trip compared to other agencies made sense now. We were the guinea pigs.

In fact, our guide, Don Ozio, told us we were his first group to visit the south since Covid. The pandemic had effectively sealed off the region from tourism, and we were now something of a test run before a much larger group would arrive later in the summer. It added a sense of novelty to our adventure — we were stepping into territory that had seen very few visitors in the past two years.

The Hunt for Small Change

One challenge we hadn’t anticipated was the need for small change.

In the south, it’s customary to pay the Muila people for photos. This isn’t uncommon in traditional regions of Africa, where photography isn’t just a casual exchange — it’s often viewed as a commodity, a symbolic exchange of value. While we respected the practice, the issue was finding small bills.

Angola’s currency, the Kwanza, isn’t exactly abundant in small denominations. Whether due to inflation or limited currency circulation, breaking down larger bills turned out to be surprisingly difficult. Every shopkeeper we asked shook their head. Even our guide wasn’t optimistic.

It was a strange, ironic predicament — we were willing to pay fairly, but getting the money in the right form proved to be a challenge. Eventually, through persistence and a bit of negotiation, we managed to scrape together enough small bills for the road ahead.

Outfitted and Ready

With our car loaded with tents, food, fuel, and water, we were finally ready. The road south beckoned — a journey into the heart of Angola’s most traditional region.

Our first destination was the tribal lands of the Plains Muila, where Don planned for us to visit a marketplace. It was a smart choice — market days often attract people from nearby villages, making them an ideal place to encounter Muila vendors and observe local customs.

First Glimpses of the Muila

As we approached the marketplace, it was impossible to miss the striking figures of the Muila women. Their elaborate headdresses, woven from beads, clay, and animal fat, stood out immediately against the backdrop of bustling stalls and worn-down structures. Each intricate design told a story of status, heritage, and tradition.

Yet, the scene wasn’t entirely what I had expected. While a few Muila women wore their traditional dress with pride, the majority of the crowd was dressed in Western clothing — modern t-shirts, jeans, and plastic sandals.

It was a reminder of the complicated dance between tradition and modernity. Even in remote regions, the influence of the outside world seeps in. Yet despite the visible signs of change, the spirit of the Muila remained. Their presence — regal and timeless — hinted at the deeper cultural connections we would soon explore.

Plains Muila we met along the road

Day 4: Into the Heart of Muila Territory

A Culture Preserved by Isolation

Southern Angola is a region like no other. Shaped by geographical isolation, harsh desert terrain, and the lasting effects of its civil war, the south remains one of the few places in Africa where traditional tribal cultures endure.

But even here, change is inevitable. As Angola opens up to the world, the ancient customs of its indigenous people are evolving — sometimes rapidly. Knowing that these cultures are at a delicate crossroads made my visit feel even more significant.

The tribe I was most eager to meet was the Muila. Known for their vibrant adornments and deeply rooted traditions, the Muila people have held onto their identity despite the encroaching influences of modern life.

A Life Shaped by the Land

The Muila are a semi-nomadic people, practicing subsistence agriculture and livestock herding to survive in Angola’s unforgiving environment. They raise goats and occasionally tend to cattle, but their main crop is maize, supplemented by other vegetables and even certain types of edible cactus that grow in the dry landscape.

Life here is challenging. Water is scarce, and the women of the villages often walk long distances to fetch it — a daily task that requires both resilience and strength. The villages themselves are small, made up of thatched huts arranged in clusters under the scorching sun.

Despite these hardships, there is a sense of community and continuity. The Muila’s deep connection to the land remains at the heart of their way of life.

Leadership and Belief

Muila society follows a traditional leadership structure. At the top is a tribal chief, followed by a headman and a council of elders. These elders serve as the guardians of Muila customs, tasked with maintaining peace and resolving conflicts within the community.

One belief that particularly fascinated me was the taboo against speaking someone’s name in public. The Muila consider it bad luck to mention a person’s name aloud, as names are believed to carry spiritual power. It’s a belief that underscores the spiritual depth woven into their daily lives.

Adornment and Identity

While Muila men have largely adopted Western clothing, the women remain strikingly traditional. It’s impossible not to be captivated by their appearance — a living form of art that reflects both beauty and cultural identity.

Their hair, coated in a vibrant red mud mixture made from clay and cow dung, is shaped into elaborate, symbolic designs. The hue of the clay isn’t just for aesthetics; it also serves as a natural sunblock and hair protectant in the harsh environment. Carefully placed beads and shells further adorn their hair, adding color and texture.

But perhaps the most iconic feature of Muila women is their layered bead necklaces. Thick, colorful strands wrap around their necks, giving the illusion of an elongated neck. These necklaces are not simply ornamental; they carry social and cultural significance and are worn at all times — whether working in the fields, cooking, or sleeping.

To see these women up close, proudly displaying the traditions of their ancestors, was a powerful reminder of the strength and resilience embedded in Muila culture.

Faith and Ancestors

The Muila belief system is deeply spiritual. While they acknowledge the existence of a God, they also believe in the protective power of ancestral spirits. These spirits are ever-present — influencing daily life, offering guidance, and sometimes even inflicting harm if disrespected.

To maintain harmony and ensure protection, the Muila perform animal sacrifices, offering goats or chickens in ceremonies that serve as both a gesture of gratitude and a plea for continued guidance. These rituals are moments of communal unity, reinforcing the bond between the living and those who came before.

A Culture in Transition

My time in the tribal south left me with a mix of admiration and reflection. The Muila people remain proud of their customs, yet the world around them is shifting. Modern clothing, cell phones, and outside influences are creeping into even the most remote villages.

It’s a reminder of how cultures must adapt to survive. While some traditions may fade, others will undoubtedly endure — held tightly by those who recognize their irreplaceable value.

As I continued my journey deeper into Muila territory, I couldn’t wait to learn more — to hear their stories, witness their ceremonies, and understand firsthand what it means to live in a world that balances ancient heritage and an uncertain future.

Into the Land of the Mountain Muila

From Lubango to Chibia

To reach the most traditional Muila communities, we left Lubango behind and drove southeast for several hours, heading toward the small town of Chibia. The landscape shifted gradually — the bustling cityscape giving way to open plains and clusters of low, dry forest.

Chibia itself was quiet and unhurried, a town where time seemed to move at its own pace. Portuguese colonial buildings, now weathered and crumbling, still stood as echoes of the past. They reminded me of Angola’s complex history, where layers of culture and conflict intertwined.

A Simple Meal and a Moment to Regroup

We stopped at a local eatery — a modest spot with plastic chairs and a small kitchen bustling behind the counter. The kind of place where meals are served with no rush, and conversations linger long after the plates are cleared.

The food was simple and hearty, likely a mix of cassava, maize porridge, and grilled meat. Every bite carried the flavors of Angola’s subsistence-based cuisine. We ate, rested, and gathered our energy for what lay ahead.

Our destination was no ordinary village. We were bound for the remote lands of the Mountain Muila people — communities who have held on to their traditions, far removed from the steady pulse of modern Angola.

But there was a catch.

Navigating the Unknown

While our guide, Don Ozio, was a wealth of knowledge when it came to Angolan culture and languages, he wasn’t familiar with the exact area we were headed to. It had been years since our driver had last visited the Mountain Muila, and even then, the landscape was vast, unmarked, and without clear roads.

We weren’t following a GPS or tracing a route on a map. Instead, the driver relied on something less tangible — memory and instinct. He remembered the twisting, dusty tracks, the dry rivers we might need to cross, and the bends in the road that led toward the scattered settlements. But years had passed. The land could change. Families could move.

The uncertainty added an undeniable thrill to the journey. Out here, there were no guarantees.

The Scrub Forest and the 4WD Track

Leaving the paved roads of Chibia behind, we switched to a rugged 4WD track that carved its way through the scrub forest. Thick bushes lined the narrow dirt path, and thorn trees stretched toward the sky, their branches brittle from the dry season.

The terrain grew rougher. Dust kicked up behind the car, swirling into the warm air. The dry plateau ahead, with its vast, arid expanses, was a stark reminder of why this region remains so isolated. For centuries, the harsh environment has served as both a barrier and a protector of traditional ways of life.

We pressed on, the hum of the engine steady, the sun climbing higher. With every mile, we ventured deeper into the territory of the Mountain Muila, hoping the villages would still be there — and that the people we sought to meet would welcome us.

Old Portuguese colonial era building/Chibia

Old Portuguese colonial era building front/Chibia

Through the Scrublands of Southern Angola

A Shifting Landscape

As our 4WD track wound further into the remote south, the landscape slowly transformed. The patchwork of agricultural fields near Chibia gave way to the dry, rugged expanses of scrubland. Dusty acacia trees twisted against the sky, their skeletal branches silhouetted in the mid-morning sun. In the distance, rolling hills rose, dotted with weathered rocky outcroppings.

The terrain felt untouched, wild, and vast. The sense of isolation was profound — but every now and then, life appeared.

First Glimpses of the Muila

We passed small clusters of huts, built from mud, thatch, and sticks — traditional dwellings that seemed to blend into the landscape itself. Around these settlements, we caught our first glimpses of Muila women in their traditional attire.

Their vibrant bead necklaces shimmered against the dust-covered earth, and their intricately adorned hairstyles — coated in the iconic red clay mixture — stood in contrast to the muted tones of the dry plateau. It was a striking reminder that the cultural heritage of the Muila had endured, even in the face of Angola’s turbulent past.

While many of the Muila men we saw wore simple Western clothing, the women remained vivid reflections of their ancestors. Seeing them along the roadside, walking effortlessly across the cracked earth, was like watching living threads of history woven into the present.

Abandoned Echoes of the Colonial Past

Yet the past lingered in other forms as well. Scattered across the landscape, standing defiantly against time, were the crumbling remnants of Portuguese farm buildings.

Once grand estates that had supported Angola’s colonial agricultural economy, these buildings now stood in eerie silence. Faded whitewashed walls, shattered windows, and roofs half-collapsed — the skeletal remains of a vanished era. Nature crept in, vines winding through cracks, birds nesting in forgotten corners.

What struck me most was how these farms were left untouched. Though local Muila communities lived in modest huts nearby, these colonial structures stood unclaimed — neither restored nor repurposed. It was as if the memory of the civil war still clung to them, preventing their return to purpose.

When Angola’s brutal conflict broke out, many Portuguese settlers fled, abandoning their properties to escape the violence. Though decades have passed since the war’s end, these ghosts of colonialism remain — monuments to a fractured past that few seem eager to revive.

A Land of Layers

Driving through this landscape was a reminder of the many layers that define Angola. The country is a patchwork of resilience and loss, where indigenous traditions persist alongside the relics of colonialism.

And yet, the land continues to breathe. The Muila live on, raising their goats, tending their maize fields, and passing down their customs — reminders that while buildings may crumble, the spirit of a people endures.

Ahead of us, the hills grew steeper, the track narrower. We were getting closer to the Mountain Muila villages — and the stories waiting to be told.

Old Portuguese farm abandoned 

Finding the Mountain Muila

An Empty Village and the Search for Its People

After hours of navigating the rugged dirt tracks of southern Angola, we finally found the area our driver had been searching for. It wasn’t easy — the landscape offered no signs, and even the most familiar paths had faded with time. But with the help of Muila people we encountered along the way, we were pointed in the right direction.

When we arrived, we were met with an unexpected sight — a small cluster of huts, standing empty. The thatched roofs were intact, ashes from recent fires lay beneath makeshift cooking areas, and signs of life were everywhere. Yet the village was silent, as if its occupants had only just left.

The emptiness stirred a sense of curiosity. Had they moved temporarily? Were they out tending livestock or collecting water? Or perhaps they’d simply shifted to a neighboring settlement, following the rhythms of their semi-nomadic lifestyle.

There was no way to know for sure — but we were determined to find them.

Abandoned village

Dry scrub forest

Searching for a Place to Stay

An Abandoned Village and the Spirit of Tradition

Not long after we arrived at the empty cluster of huts, a man approached us. Introducing himself as the son of the late chief, he explained the reason for the village’s emptiness — the chief had passed away six months ago, and according to Muila tradition, the entire village was abandoned as a sign of respect for the ancestral spirits.

When I asked if we could camp there, the chief’s son was firm. It wasn’t allowed. The spirits of the deceased were believed to linger, and remaining in the village would be seen as disrespectful.

Instead, he offered to host us in his nearby village, concealed within a maze of dense thorn bushes. While his offer was generous, we ultimately declined. The site was dusty, and none of his wives were wearing traditional clothing, which suggested a more modernized community.

Choosing to Continue

Faced with a choice, our guide turned to me.

“What should we do?” he asked. “Return to Chibia and find a hotel, or keep searching for another family to stay with?”

The answer was obvious. After traveling this far, I wasn’t ready to turn back. I suggested we keep searching. Along the road, we had passed numerous clusters of huts. Surely, someone would be willing to host us.

Our guide asked the chief’s son if there were any other villages nearby. He shook his head, insisting there weren’t. Looking around, it was easy to believe him. The thick, thorny vegetation created the illusion of isolation. But I had a feeling we weren’t as alone as it seemed.

A Hidden World Revealed

It wasn’t long before we encountered a few Muila women walking along the track, their striking bead necklaces and red clay-coated hairstyles making them instantly recognizable. Unlike the previous village, these women were dressed in full traditional attire.

Our guide approached them, and after a brief exchange, they invited us to follow them home.

We navigated through narrow footpaths, stepping over dry roots and around the thorn bushes. Then, as if emerging from a secret world, we arrived at a small Muila village — a collection of thatched huts surrounded by vibrant green maize fields.

There were no men present — only women and children. Yet the atmosphere was warm and welcoming. After a short conversation, the headwoman agreed to let us camp in their village.

The long search was over. We had finally found a place to stay.

Village where we camped for the night

Muila women farming in their village field

Green fields mixed with scrub forest

Village where we camped

Mother carrying her child in village where we camped

Paula handing out photos of people

Muila lady in our camp

Muila lady in our camp

A Shared Exchange Through Photography

Everyone, including the adults, was thrilled to have a photo of themselves. Unlike in many parts of the world, most Muila people don’t own cell phones and rarely have personal pictures. The Polaroids weren’t just a novelty — they were a treasured keepsake.

This simple exchange made our interaction feel more mutually beneficial, rather than just a transaction. In many tribal areas, it’s become common for visitors to pay for photos, reducing meaningful moments to brief exchanges. The Polaroid photos shifted that dynamic, offering something tangible in return.

While Paula handed out the photos, I took the opportunity to capture a few moments with my SLR camera. Using it sparingly and always asking for permission felt more respectful. Rather than treating the experience as a photo opportunity, I aimed to engage genuinely — appreciating the warmth of the people and the beauty of their traditions.

It was a simple gesture, but one that built a sense of trust and connection — the foundation for everything that followed.

Muila girl

Photos and Familiar Moments

We made sure to bring enough Polaroid photos for all the children in the village, wanting to avoid any disappointment. Fortunately, we had plenty to go around. But it wasn’t just the children who were eager for their own pictures — the adults were just as excited, and we were more than happy to oblige.

Some of the Muila women even asked for a second photo, feeling dissatisfied with how their hair appeared in the first. Their care for their appearance and the desire for a perfect keepsake reminded me of a similar experience in Namibia. A few years ago, Paula and I visited the Himba people, just a few hundred miles south of here. The Himba women, also known for their elaborate red clay hairstyles, had reacted in much the same way — requesting retakes until they were happy with the result.

It was a simple but meaningful connection — a reminder that, despite our cultural differences, the desire to capture a beautiful moment transcends language and borders.

Muila Girl

Muila lady at our camp

Sunset Strolls and Hidden Villages

As the temperature cooled and the sun dipped below the horizon, we set out to explore the surrounding area. The golden light cast a warm glow over the dry landscape, and the air carried the earthy scent of dust and distant fires.

Along the way, we encountered Muila women who seemed to emerge from nowhere, their silhouettes framed by the soft evening light. Many carried children on their backs, wrapped securely in colorful cloth, as they returned from the fields or nearby markets.

Despite their long day’s work, their smiles were welcoming. Conversations flowed through our guide’s translations, and soon, invitations followed. The women gestured toward the thorn bushes and cactus groves that surrounded us, offering to lead us to their hidden villages.

Like the one we were staying in, these villages were tucked away, concealed by the rugged landscape. It was a reminder of how the Muila people have adapted to their environment — creating homes in the heart of the wilderness, shielded from the harsh elements and the outside world.

Each invitation carried the promise of new stories and connections, and we eagerly accepted, knowing that the real beauty of this journey lay in these unexpected encounters.

Muila women

Muila women

A Visit to a Muila Village

Following the Path Through Cactus Groves

Eager to accept the invitation, we asked the Muila women if we could follow them to their camp. They agreed, leading us along narrow footpaths through groves of cactus and green maize fields, their rhythmic footsteps guiding the way. The landscape was alive with the sounds of insects and distant birds, and the fading sunlight cast a golden hue over the fields.

Before long, we reached their settlement — a small, intimate cluster of thatched huts, carefully arranged and surrounded by dry brush. It was a quiet yet vibrant place, reflecting the simplicity and resilience of Muila life.

Meeting the Elder

At the heart of the village, we were introduced to the village elder, the man in charge. His presence commanded quiet respect, but his demeanor was warm. Like many Muila elders, he had multiple wives and a large family, with children playing in the dust, their laughter echoing softly through the air.

Wanting to share a small gesture of goodwill, I reached into our bag and offered him some of the snacks we had brought. Without missing a beat, and in a way that felt universally fatherly, he took the treats and immediately handed them to his children. The kids’ faces lit up with delight, reminding me that no matter where you are in the world, parental instincts remain strikingly familiar.

It was a simple moment, but one that bridged the gap between visitor and host — a quiet exchange of kindness and connection.

Muila woman

Muila Woman

At the Muila bar

The deceased chief’s son at the bar

Camping Under the Angolan Sky

A Perfect Evening in Muila Country

We set up camp near a Muila village, surrounded by one of the most atmospheric landscapes I could imagine. The stillness of the plateau stretched in every direction, interrupted only by the soft sounds of the village and the distant hum of insects.

As we gathered around to enjoy the dinner we had cooked, we poured glasses of red wine, savoring the simplicity of the moment. The sunset bathed the sky in brilliant shades of orange and pink, fading slowly into the cool blue of twilight.

A Sky Alive with Light

What made the evening even more memorable were the flashes of distant lightning, illuminating the thunderclouds that hovered far on the horizon. The sky pulsed with light, the silent storms too far to bring any worry — only awe. It was a mesmerizing display, nature’s own silent performance.

Fortunate Skies

It was the rainy season in southern Angola, and the region is notorious for becoming nearly impassable after heavy downpours. Thick mud and flooded tracks can leave even the most rugged vehicles stranded. But that night, the skies remained clear, and there was no rain in the forecast.

With the uncertainty of the weather lifted, we were free to fully enjoy the experience — no thoughts of the road ahead, just the beauty of the moment. The day had been long, but the peaceful stillness of our camp made it feel like the perfect ending.

Our camp

A Night of Ants, Laughter, and Nature Shows

An Unwelcome Invasion

The cool evening air brought relief from the heat and, thankfully, there were no mosquitoes to contend with. But as we enjoyed our meal, the tranquility was short-lived. Without warning, a swarm of bullet-sized ants erupted from a hole beneath our table.

They weren’t just a mild inconvenience — these ants were aggressive and wasted no time in biting Jimmie’s feet. His frantic attempts to shake them off were met with more stings, and we quickly realized we were outmatched.

Reluctantly, we surrendered the spot to the victorious ants, dragging our table to a more peaceful, ant-free location.

Curious Onlookers

With the table crisis averted, we settled in once more. But we weren’t alone. Children from the village began gathering around, their wide-eyed curiosity lighting up the dark. Some hovered shyly on the outskirts, while others giggled and whispered to each other. They were completely fascinated by us — our strange food, our movements, even the simple act of sitting at a table.

Among the crowd was one particular figure that stood out: a man wearing a COVID mask. In all of Muila land, he was the only person we had seen with one — a small but striking reminder of how the pandemic had touched even the most remote corners of the world.

An Evening of Entertainment

To entertain the kids, Jimmie pulled out his phone and began playing a nature documentary about Africa. The crowd of children huddled around, captivated by the images of animals they knew well from their own surroundings. Then, he switched to a film about whales, a creature none of them had likely ever seen. Their amazement was palpable — laughter and gasps echoed through the night.

It was a beautiful reminder of something universal. No matter how distant or different a place may seem, kids are the same all over the world — filled with curiosity, wonder, and joy.

Drifting to Sleep

As the night wore on, the laughter of the Muila children lingered. Even as I crawled into my tent and stretched out on my simple mattress, I could still hear their giggles, carried through the cool air.

That night, under the southern Angolan sky, I experienced some of the best rest of the trip — a peaceful end to a day full of unexpected moments and quiet connections.

Muila kids watching Jimmies nature show on his phone

Day 4: A Morning with the Muila and a Farewell

Breakfast and Unexpected Requests

I woke early on our fourth day in Muila territory, greeted by the soft hum of village life. As the sun warmed the dry earth, I shared a simple breakfast with the Muila children and women, passing around what we had. The morning air was cool, and laughter rang out as the younger ones playfully exchanged bites of food.

As we ate, a few of the women noticed the empty bottle of whiskey left outside Jimmie’s tent. They curiously asked if we had any more — a lighthearted question, but one that reminded me how novelty often surrounds visitors in these remote areas.

A Doll of Tradition

After breakfast, I watched the women prepare for their day. With small tools in hand, they set off toward the fields to tend to their crops. Among them was one woman carrying a small, handcrafted doll, designed in the likeness of a Muila woman.

At first, I assumed it might be a souvenir she hoped to sell, as is often the case in other regions. But she never offered it for sale, holding it with care. Later, I learned its true purpose — these dolls are used by Muila women to practice for motherhood, symbolizing the nurturing role they will one day take on. It was a beautiful reminder that not every object of cultural significance is meant for trade.

Shifting Expectations

Until that point, our time in the village had been marked by genuine hospitality. The villagers had asked for nothing in return—we had simply exchanged stories, shared food, and gifted Polaroid photos. But as our departure neared, the atmosphere shifted slightly.

Many of the women, realizing we were leaving, began asking for payment for photos. Some, who had previously worn Western clothing, quickly changed into traditional attire in hopes of earning something in exchange for more pictures. It was an understandable request, as the practice of photo payments has become a growing norm in many rural communities with frequent visitors.

A Thoughtful Farewell

While the fee they requested was small, I hesitated to encourage a purely transactional dynamic. Instead, I chose a more balanced approach — offering a small sum directly to the headwoman as a gesture of gratitude for allowing us to stay in the village. This felt more appropriate, respecting their hospitality without reducing our time together to a financial exchange.

The decision seemed to satisfy everyone. With smiles and handshakes, we said our goodbyes, knowing we were departing on good terms. As we pulled away from the village, I reflected on the experience — the warmth, the laughter, and the quiet lessons learned.

It had been a glimpse into a world both resilient and evolving — and I left feeling profoundly grateful.

Muila woman with doll

From Muila Lands to Lubango’s Landmarks

A Stop in Chibia and a Familiar Sight

After leaving the Muila area, we made our way back to Chibia for a quick lunch stop. The meal was simple but satisfying, and the return to paved roads felt almost luxurious after the rugged tracks of the south.

With our time in the remote villages behind us, we were ready to explore some of Lubango’s highlights — a different side of Angola, shaped by its colonial past and dramatic natural beauty.

Christ the Redeemer of Lubango

Our first stop was the city’s massive Jesus statue, a striking replica of Rio de Janeiro’s Christ the Redeemer. Standing with its arms outstretched atop a mountain, the statue’s presence was both solemn and majestic. From its base, we had a panoramic view of Lubango, the city sprawled below with its mix of old colonial structures and modern growth.

The familiarity of the statue, so reminiscent of Brazil’s iconic monument, was a reminder of Angola’s Portuguese influence. But the view was uniquely Angolan — a vast, sunlit landscape stretching far into the horizon.

The Breathtaking Tundavala Cliffs

From there, we drove further into the mountains to witness one of Angola’s most dramatic natural wonders — the Tundavala Cliffs.

Rising to nearly 1,500 feet, the volcanic cliffs abruptly drop to the plains below, offering a dizzying and awe-inspiring perspective. The jagged lava formations and the sweeping view of the landscape left us speechless. The air was cool and crisp at the high altitude, adding to the sense of being on the edge of the world.

While the Christ statue had been impressive, Tundavala was in a league of its own. The sheer scale and untamed beauty of the cliffs made it a moment I would never forget — a fitting finale to a day that bridged the cultural and natural wonders of Angola.

Paula at the Christ statue

Tundavala

Tundavala

The Ship Graveyard: A Haunting Relic of Angola’s Past

Rusting Giants on the Shore

Just north of Luanda, we visited one of Angola’s most surreal and infamous sights — the ship graveyard. Here, dozens of rusting vessels, many once used as cargo ships, sit abandoned near the shore. Left behind during the chaos of Angola’s civil war, these massive hulks have remained for decades, their skeletal frames slowly succumbing to the elements.

While some ships have been stripped for scrap metal over the years, others remain eerily intact. Their corroded hulls, darkened with rust, lean and crumble against the lapping waves — silent witnesses to a turbulent past.

Life Among the Wreckage

Despite the haunting presence of the ships, the beach was anything but desolate. Hundreds of children played joyfully along the shoreline, the wreckage forming a strange yet familiar backdrop to their world.

Some swam dangerously close to the wrecks, their laughter mingling with the rhythmic crash of the waves. Others kicked up clouds of sand in impromptu soccer matches, darting across the beach beneath the scorching midday sun. The contrast was striking — the vibrant energy of youth set against the stark remains of conflict and neglect.

It was a reminder of how life persists. Where others might see a symbol of ruin, the children saw a playground. The juxtaposition of decay and resilience made the scene all the more fascinating, a vivid reflection of Angola’s ongoing journey forward.

Ship graveyard

Paula walking along the beach of the Ship graveyard

Local kids playing at Ship graveyard

A Final Night in Luanda: Tensions and Reflections

Navigating a City on Edge

Luanda has long held a reputation for crime, something I was well aware of before our visit. In preparation, I had joined a Luanda expat group on Facebook, where reports of kidnappings and robberies were alarmingly common. The warnings weren’t just online — locals we met echoed these concerns. One man recounted how his wife had been robbed at gunpoint while stopped in traffic.

To minimize risks, our drivers insisted we lock our doors and roll up the windows at every intersection. The ever-present fear of roadside crime was a stark contrast to the lively atmosphere of Angola’s capital.

A Risky Decision

For our last night, we stayed at the Art Place Hotel, a beachfront property bordered by shantytowns. The view of the ocean was picturesque, but along the shoreline, homeless and intoxicated individuals loitered, underscoring the city’s social challenges. Even the hotel staff warned us against walking alone at night, strongly recommending their in-house taxi service for our safety.

Despite the precautions, my friend decided to make a quick walk to a nearby store to buy some beer. It seemed like a harmless errand, but he didn’t get far. Just outside the hotel, a group of teenagers surrounded him. They tackled him to the ground and attempted to steal his phone.

He fought back, managing to keep his phone, but lost a wad of cash in the scuffle. His legs were scraped from the struggle, and it could have been much worse. One of the attackers, still clutching a half-empty beer bottle, seemed ready to escalate — likely intending to use the bottle as a weapon. Fortunately, my friend managed to break free before things turned more violent.

It was a chilling reminder of how quickly things can shift in Luanda. The reality of the city’s dangers had now become personal.

Day 5: A Rare Moment of Rest

The next day, we opted for something unusual on our travels — relaxation. We stayed at the hotel, reflecting on our time in Angola. The break was welcomed, a pause from the constant movement and experiences of the past days.

That evening, we boarded a Brussels Airlines flight to Belgium. The airport departure was uneventful, though I couldn’t help but feel frustrated. After paying $200 for a mandatory COVID test — a steep fee by any standard — no one at the airport even bothered to check the results. It felt like yet another layer of bureaucracy without purpose.