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ANGOLA - Beyond the last familiar road

14 Days Across Southern Angola - July 2026

Por Beyond All Maps - Portraits of our Planet by Thorsten Mehret

13 de September de 2026

Motivation - Why to Go?

Every journey begins with a question: Why this country?

For me, Angola has been on the list for years, not because it is famous, but because it isn’t. I love exploring countries beyond the classic tourist trail, where genuine encounters still outweigh tourist attractions.

Its location is another reason. Angola borders Namibia, one of my favourite countries in Africa, and after experiencing Namibia’s breathtaking landscapes, visiting its lesser-known neighbour feels like the perfect next step. From the Serra da Leba Pass to the Namibe Desert and the cliffs of Tunda Vala, Angola promises spectacular scenery that few international travellers ever see.

What excites me most, however, are the people. Southern Angola is home to a remarkable variety of traditional communities, and unlike destinations where cultural tourism is well established, I expect a far more authentic experience. Spending time, and even overnight stays, with several of these tribes is a rare opportunity to experience daily life beyond a brief visit.

One of my most memorable travel experiences was camping with nomadic tribes in Chad, waking up to the sounds of village life as the sun rose. It remains one of the highlights of my travels, and I hope Angola will offer moments that are just as unforgettable.

This journey isn’t about adding another country to my list. It’s about discovering one of Africa’s least-visited destinations through its landscapes, cultures, and the people who call it home.

Climate and Best Travel Time

Angola has two main seasons: the hot rainy season from October to April and the cooler, drier cacimbo from May to September. Conditions vary considerably, the north is tropical and humid, the central highlands can become surprisingly cool, and the Namibe coast remains dry under the influence of the cold Benguela Current.

For most journeys, June to September offers the best conditions: little rain, passable roads and comfortable daytime temperatures. Nights in the highlands can be cold, however, while coastal mist occasionally hides the scenery. The rainy season brings greener landscapes but also heat, humidity and roads that may develop ambitions of becoming rivers.

Facts and Figures

Size: ~1,246,700 sq. km (≈ 3.5 × Germany)
Population: ~39 million (2025 estimate)
Capital and biggest city: Luanda, with ~9.5 million inhabitants (metropolitan area)
Ethnic groups: Ovimbundu ~37%, Ambundu ~25%, Bakongo ~13%, Chokwe ~8%, Ovambo ~2%, Ganguela ~2%, Nyaneka-Humbe ~2%, Herero-related groups (including Himba, Kuvale, Hakaona, Dimba, etc.) ~1%, San and other minorities ~10%
Languages: Portuguese (official language); Umbundu, Kimbundu, Kikongo, Chokwe, Nyaneka, Oshikwanyama and more than 40 indigenous languages are also spoken
Currency: Angolan Kwanza (AOA)

Angola in One Sentence and 5 Fun Facts

A vast country where dramatic mountain passes, Atlantic deserts, vibrant cities, and remarkably diverse traditional cultures come together, creating one of Africa’s least explored and most surprising travel destinations.

1. Angola is home to an astonishing cultural mosaic

More than 90 ethnic groups live across Angola, each with its own traditions, languages, clothing, and hairstyles. In the south alone, travellers can meet communities such as the Mwila, Humbi, Himba, Hakaona, Kuvale, and Ngendelengo, each preserving a unique cultural identity that has evolved over centuries.

2. One of Africa’s most spectacular roads hides in plain sight

The Serra da Leba Pass twists down the escarpment in a series of perfectly engineered hairpin bends. It looks like something designed for a racing video game, yet it’s a real mountain road connecting Angola’s cool highlands with the arid Atlantic coast.

3. The desert grows a plant that refuses to age

The Namibe Desert is home to the extraordinary Welwitschia mirabilis, a plant found almost nowhere else on Earth. It grows only two leaves throughout its entire life, yet some individuals are believed to be over 1,000 years old, making them older than many countries.

4. Luanda is a city of astonishing contrasts

Modern skyscrapers overlook Portuguese colonial buildings, luxury waterfront developments sit beside lively informal markets, and expensive restaurants coexist with bustling street food stalls. Few African capitals display such dramatic contrasts between wealth, history, and everyday life.

5. Angola remains one of Africa’s last great travel frontiers

After decades of civil war, tourism is only beginning to emerge. Many of its landscapes, villages, and cultural traditions are still visited by remarkably few international travellers. In many places, seeing another tourist is rarer than spotting a giant baobab.

Itinerary

Our journey begins in Luanda before a domestic flight carries us south to the cooler highlands around Lubango. From there, three Toyota Hiluxes take us through Chibia, Cahama and Xangongo to the remote communities around Oncócua.

After returning to Lubango, we descend the Serra da Leba Pass towards Namibe and continued into the desert around Virei and Tchitundo-Hulo. The final stage leads us back through Namibe and the Tundavala Gap to Lubango, followed by a flight to Luanda.

Across fourteen days, the route combines traditional cultures, highland scenery, Atlantic coastline and the Namib Desert, with long drives, dust and several nights under canvas included at no extra charge.

Day 1 | Frankfurt → Luanda
Overnight flight to Angola.
Day 2 | Luanda
Arrival, historic Baixa, waterfront and Ilha do Cabo.
Overnight: Hotel Ilhamar, Luanda
Day 3 | Luanda → Lubango
Luanda sightseeing, São Paulo Market and afternoon flight to Lubango.
Overnight: Kimbo do Soba, Lubango
Day 4 | Lubango and Chibia
Ethnological Museum and visits to two Mwila families.
Overnight: Kimbo do Soba, Lubango
Day 5 | Lubango → Cahama → Xangongo
First long overland stage, a Humbi initiation ceremony and sundowners beneath giant baobabs.
Overnight: Local guesthouse, Xangongo
Day 6 | Xangongo → Otchinjau → Oncócua
Drive into the remote south, encounters with Dimba women and an evening with a Twa community.
Overnight: Safari-tent camp beside the Twa village
Day 7 | Oncócua region
Visits to Himba and Hakaona settlements.
Overnight: Safari-tent camp beside a Hakaona settlement
Day 8 | Oncócua → Lubango
Dimba and San encounters followed by the long return to the highlands. Overnight: Kimbo do Soba, Lubango
Day 9 | Lubango → Serra da Leba → Namibe
Cristo Rei, the spectacular Serra da Leba Pass and Mungongo Oasis.
Overnight: Viva Executive Hotel, Namibe
Day 10 | Namibe → Virei → Tchitundo-Hulo
Abandoned trading post, prehistoric rock art and the first encounters with the Kuvale.
Overnight: Safari-tent camp beside a Kuvale settlement
Day 11 | Kuvale country → Namib Desert → Namibe
Kuvale village and cemetery, desert waterholes, Colinas do Curoca and Lagoa dos Arcos.
Overnight: Viva Executive Hotel, Namibe
Day 12 | Namibe → Tundavala → Lubango → Luanda
An organised Ngendelengo encounter, Tundavala Gap and evening flight to the capital.
Overnight: Hotel Ilhamar, Luanda
Day 13 | Luanda → Frankfurt
Fish market, Slavery Museum exterior, a prolonged encounter with Luanda traffic and evening departure.
Overnight: Lufthansa flight
Day 14 | Frankfurt
Arrival in Germany.

A Brief Lesson on History

For centuries, the territory of present-day Angola was home to powerful African kingdoms such as Kongo and Ndongo. The country’s name originates from the title Ngola, used by the rulers of Ndongo.

The Portuguese arrived in 1482, and Angola remained a Portuguese colony for nearly 500 years. During this period, it became one of the world’s largest sources of enslaved people in the transatlantic slave trade, with millions transported mainly to Brazil.

Following a long war of independence, Angola gained independence in 1975. However, peace was short-lived, as a devastating civil war lasted until 2002, leaving much of the country’s infrastructure destroyed.

Today, Angola is one of Africa’s most resource-rich nations, known for its vast oil reserves, dramatic landscapes, vibrant cultures, and ongoing transformation. Although still largely overlooked by international tourism, it offers adventurous travelers an authentic glimpse into one of the continent’s most fascinating countries.

Arrival

My overnight Lufthansa flight is almost full, and the Airbus A330 is not exactly generous with personal territory. Sleeping for the next eight hours seems theoretically possible, provided I can temporarily detach my legs.

During boarding, I play my usual game of trying to identify my future travel companions. I soon give up. The cabin is a mix of Europeans and Africans, business travellers and families, with nobody displaying the unmistakable signs of an organised tour group: practical outdoor clothing, oversized camera bags and a slightly nervous expression.

My neighbours turn out to be two Italians travelling to an offshore oil platform to film a documentary. It is their first time in Angola too. At least I am not the only one flying towards the unknown with more curiosity than actual knowledge.

After landing in Luanda on time, I reattach my legs and mentally prepare for the bureaucratic obstacle course I am certain awaits us. It completely fails to materialise. Immigration takes barely ten minutes, the officers are friendly, and German travellers do not even need a visa. Angola has already disposed of my first stereotype before my luggage reaches the carousel.

At the baggage belt, I finally meet Thomas Thadewaldt, our guide, and my six fellow travellers. They are all seasoned explorers with plenty of African experience, so nobody appears to be hyperventilating at the prospect of the adventure ahead. A reassuring start.

Luanda’s shiny new airport sits almost 40 kilometres outside the city, apparently close enough to share the name, but not the postcode. Tired but excited, we pile into the bus and begin the long drive towards the capital.

Luanda

FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF LUANDA

Driving towards the centre, another expectation disappears. Luanda is surprisingly clean. Restored colonial façades stand beside buildings that have clearly missed several renovation cycles. Soviet-looking apartment blocks compete with glass towers, while murals inject colour and politics into the streets. The mixture is not conventionally beautiful, but it is never dull.

As we can't check in so early to our hotel, we start the morning with a city tour. We stop at Independence Square, where a statue honours Agostinho Neto, poet, independence leader and Angola’s first president. The colourful mosaics below depict the struggle for liberation and quote his poem Havemos de Voltar, “We Shall Return.”

While looking around, we have our first spontaneous encounters with local people. Their smiles, curiosity and friendly greetings provide a far more memorable introduction to Luanda than any monument could manage alone.

The local team has arranged a remarkably efficient, if slightly unconventional, currency exchange. A woman simply shows up in our bus carrying a thick bundle of kwanzas and offers a rate considerably better than the official one shown by my currency app. No counter, no paperwork and definitely no loyalty programme. Within minutes, we are equipped with local cash. Angola clearly has its own practical rules, and local knowledge wins the first round.

At Luanda’s National Museum of Anthropology, traditional masks, musical instruments and everyday objects offer a first glimpse into Angola’s remarkable cultural diversity. The collection is compact but fascinating, and some of the masks appear considerably less pleased to see us than the friendly staff.

Strolling through Luanda’s historic quarter, we discover colourful street art bringing new life to old colonial walls. Striking portraits celebrate African beauty and identity, creating a lively dialogue between the city’s Portuguese past and its contemporary Angolan character.

The Church of Our Lady of Remedies, today Luanda’s cathedral, rises between palm trees in the historic centre. Founded in 1628, its twin bell towers and softly coloured façade preserve another striking trace of the city’s long Portuguese past, although the tropical setting feels considerably less European.

Lunch comes from a row of simple fish restaurants on the waterfront. A local beer costs the equivalent of about fifty cents. The kitchen works at a pace that leaves time for a second one, but eventually an excellent grilled fish arrives with plantain, sweet potato and spicy salsa. Good food, cheap beer and enforced patience: the essential ingredients of a successful arrival day.

LUANDA: THE WORLD’S MOST EXPENSIVE CITY... OR IS IT?

Luanda regularly appears near the top of global cost-of-living rankings. These surveys, however, mainly measure an expatriate lifestyle built around imported food, international supermarkets, business hotels, private schools and heavily secured residential compounds. A luxury apartment in one of these expat enclaves can easily cost €5,000–10,000 per month, apparently, peace of mind comes with a premium postcode.

Local reality is far more nuanced. A freshly grilled fish meal with plantains and sweet potatoes costs around €10, while a cold local beer is just €0.50. Clean guesthouses and smaller hotels may charge roughly €40–80 per night, compared with €250–400 for an international business hotel.

Imported products tell a rather different story. In a Luanda supermarket, I discover a 200-gram packet of broccoli for almost €16, a price that turns an ordinary vegetable into something approaching a luxury investment. Outside the capital, meanwhile, a bucket containing at least two kilograms of passion fruit costs only €2.

Live on imported goods behind guarded walls, and Luanda fully earns its expensive reputation. Eat, sleep and travel locally, and Angola can offer surprisingly good value.

In the late afternoon we walk along the Marginal as Luanda turns golden. Fishermen cross the calm bay in narrow boats, cyclists pass beneath palm trees and the skyline glows across the water.

The Palácio de Ferro is officially closed. A small tip produces a key with astonishing efficiency. The prefabricated iron building is traditionally attributed to Gustave Eiffel's engineering circle and is said to have been intended for Madagascar before somehow ending up here. If true, it may be Angola's most elegant wrong delivery.

Opposite stands the discreet headquarters of the national diamond company. For the home of Angola's second most important export, the building is remarkably modest. Apparently, diamonds do not always insist on architectural sparkle.

Our hotel Ilhamar stands on Ilha do Cabo, close to the beach. I end the evening on the rooftop terrace with Micha and Karo, cold beer safely within reach. Below us, Luanda reveals its many layers: faded colonial buildings, tightly packed houses with weathered roofs and shiny new apartment blocks rising along the bay. Old and new, modest and luxurious, all compete for the same skyline.

As the last sunlight turns the Atlantic gold, Angola already feels very different from the place I had imagined.

CHURCHES, CANNONS AND THE SÃO PAULO MARKET

Before flying south, we still have a morning in the capital. I buy a local Unitel SIM with 20 GB for around €15 instead of paying almost three times as much for half the data through a travel eSIM. Angola's reputation for extreme prices is becoming increasingly complicated.

The Ermida de Nossa Senhora de Nazaré, one of Luanda's oldest churches, contains beautiful blue-and-white Portuguese tiles. Local tradition gives the quiet interior a darker footnote: the severed head of the last King of Kongo is said to have been sealed into the church after the Battle of Mbwila in 1665. Whether fact or legend, it is difficult to forget once heard.

At the Fortaleza de São Miguel, old cannons point across a skyline of high-rises and waterfront towers. The view compresses several centuries of Angola into one frame: colonial walls in the foreground, a modern oil capital behind them. Inside, striking blue-and-white Portuguese tile panels transform history into pictures. Battles, expeditions and colonial scenes unfold across the walls, fascinating to examine even when the version of history they present deserves a critical eye.

The enormous Memorial to Agostinho Neto, Angola's first president, provides another shift in mood. Built with North Korean assistance, it has the monumental confidence of an era when subtlety was apparently considered politically suspicious.

Politics In One Paragraph

Angola formally operates as a multi-party democracy and holds regular elections. In practice, weaknesses in the separation of powers, press freedom and equal political competition lead many observers to describe it as a hybrid regime or electoral authoritarian state. The country's monuments and political murals make that tension visible without requiring a political-science lecture at every street corner.

Then comes the São Paulo Market. It is noisy, crowded and gloriously alive. Vegetables, wigs, dried goods and household items fill narrow aisles. Some vendors welcome the camera; others do not. A smile and a question work better than a long lens and wishful thinking.

LUBANGO - A SOFTER LANDING

By mid-afternoon, we leave for Lubango. Check-in, security and boarding are again almost suspiciously easy. Angola seems determined to dismantle my stereotypes one efficient airport procedure at a time.

Lubango

It is dark when we land in Lubango. Our guides Jade, Bruno and Lino are waiting with three Toyota Hiluxes, the vehicles that will become our moving homes over the next ten days.

Lubango feels calmer than Luanda from the first kilometre. The streets are clean, traffic is manageable and the cooler highland air is welcome.

Our lodge, Kimbo do Soba, is an even bigger surprise. The rooms are immaculate, the gardens peaceful and the Wi-Fi works without negotiation. At the restaurant, guests choose meat or fish directly from the display. Because the owner also runs a game reserve, dinner can include gnu, kudu, impala or ostrich. Curiosity requires several evenings of serious comparative research.

The lodge mainly serves Angola's growing middle and upper classes, particularly people escaping Luanda's heat. It is a useful reminder that tourism development here is not waiting for foreign visitors to discover the country.

THE MWILA - An Encounter Beyond Words

We begin at Lubango's Ethnological Museum. The woman at the ticket desk asks our ages, which feels unusually personal until we learn that visitors over sixty enter free, including tourists. I am not yet old enough to enjoy the benefit, a sentence I suspect has a limited shelf life.

Inside, tightly woven baskets can hold water without leaking. A reconstructed Oshiwambo homestead looks like a small village but belongs to one extended family. Each wife traditionally has her own hut around a shared courtyard. Our guide tells us about a recently deceased man with more than fifty wives. I can only salute his commitment to domestic administration.

Next we have a look around Lubangos city centre.

Beyond the city, asphalt becomes broken tarmac, then gravel, then little more than wheel tracks. The agency rotates visits between different Mwila families, reducing pressure on any single household.

The head of the first family welcomes us without ceremony. Neighbours drift across, children watch and nobody turns the meeting into an instant photo transaction. We talk before taking out the cameras.

The women carry the strongest visual signature. Their thick braids are shaped with butterfat, powdered red ochre and tree bark; layers of glass and clay beads mark different stages of life. Yet the details only become interesting because the atmosphere is relaxed enough to notice them. A woman cooks over a small fire. Goats move through the yard. Children alternate between suspicion and irresistible curiosity.

I make portraits, but the wider scenes matter just as much. They show people in their own space rather than detached against a convenient background. The visit feels like an encounter, not a model release with huts.

The Mwila

The Mwila are part of the wider Nyaneka cultural group in southern Angola. Families combine cattle keeping with farming maize, beans and yams. Women's hairstyles and beadwork are the most visible expressions of identity: ochre-coated braids, necklaces, bracelets and ankle ornaments can communicate age and social status. Livestock remains central to both subsistence and prestige.

On the way to another Mwila group.

The second family is slightly more accustomed to visitors, but the experience still feels far removed from the highly commercialised encounters I remember from Ethiopia's Omo Valley. Angola's lack of mass tourism is not merely an absence. It changes the quality of the encounter significantly.

After a long day, we arrive the hotel well after dark.

Angola’s modern supermarkets, particularly Shoprite, look surprisingly familiar. Bright aisles, neatly stacked shelves and refrigerated displays offer almost everything we might find back home: fresh fruit and vegetables, bread, meat, drinks, toiletries and enough snacks to survive several days on the road.

Only the prices reveal that we are not in a European supermarket. Local products can be very affordable, while imported goods occasionally appear to have travelled first class. Still, after dusty roads and remote villages, pushing a trolley through Shoprite feels strangely comforting, a brief return to the ordinary, complete with fluorescent lighting and the universal question of which queue will move slowest.

SOUTH TO XANGONGO - AND STRAIGHT INTO A PARTY

Around 300 kilometres separate Lubango from Xangongo. We rotate seats between the Hiluxes each day, giving everyone a fair share of conversation, scenery and suspension quality.

Roadside stalls sell firewood, eggs, chickens and whatever the season provides. Cahama's centre looks unexpectedly tidy; smaller settlements beyond it struggle more visibly with litter. Baobabs begin to appear, first singly and then in increasingly extravagant forms.

By late afternoon we reach a Humbi village and discover that an initiation ceremony for two boys is underway. Singing, dancing and laughter fill the compound. Homemade beer circulates in a large plastic barrel whose original warning label suggests previous employment in the chemical industry. Curiosity defeats caution. The drink tastes like very young wine and is considerably better than the dishwater-like brew I once tried at a Hamar ceremony in Ethiopia.

The Humbi

The Humbi, also known as Humbe or Nkhumbi, belong to the wider Nyaneka-Nkhumbi ethnolinguistic group of southern Angola. Their communities are concentrated on the fertile plains along the Cunene River, particularly between Humbe and Xangongo. They speak a form of Nyaneka, although Portuguese is increasingly common.

Traditionally, the Humbi combine cattle herding, farming and craftsmanship. Cattle provide food and economic security, but also carry social and ceremonial importance. Family ties, customary leadership and collective responsibilities continue to shape rural community life, even as Christianity, education and closer links with Angola’s towns bring considerable change.

One of the most distinctive traditions is the female fico initiation, marking the transition from girlhood towards adulthood. During its different stages, specially prepared hairstyles form high crests or broad side loops often described as “elephant ears.” Created by skilled specialists and worn with jewellery and ceremonial clothing, they communicate identity and maturity rather than serving merely as decoration.

Such traditional styles are no longer part of everyday life for most Humbi. They appear mainly during ceremonies and in communities where older customs remain strong—a reminder that culture here is not frozen in time, but continually negotiated between inheritance and modern life.

Three young women appear wearing remarkable parabolic hairstyles associated with initiation into womanhood. They enjoy the camera, pose with confidence and inspect each frame on the screen. My Instax printer becomes the star attraction. Watching a portrait slowly appear in their hands creates more excitement than any technical discussion about dynamic range ever has.

We finish the day beneath what is said to be Africa's widest baobab tree. Gin and tonic, music and the giant silhouette against the fading sky turn a roadside stop into one of the trip's defining moments.

INTO TWA COUNTRY

The morning begins with a small mystery solved. A long queue seen outside our Lubango hotel was not waiting for food or paperwork; it was an audition for Star Angola, the local version of American Idol. Fame, apparently, also requires patience before breakfast.

In Xangongo, children selling peanuts gather around us. They do not immediately ask for money. They want names, jokes and photographs. I wonder how long that easy curiosity will survive if tourism grows.

Beyond Otchinjau the tarmac ends. Rusting military vehicles lie beside the road, relics of a conflict whose hardware has outlived its purpose.

CAHAMA: A FORGOTTEN BATTLEFIELD

During the South African Border War (1966-1989), Cahama became an important military position on the route into southern Angola. Angolan government forces, supported by Cuba and the Soviet Union, fought UNITA and the South African Defence Force across the region. Rusting tanks and armoured vehicles still sit beside otherwise peaceful roads, blunt reminders that the Cold War was very hot here.

At a waterhole, Dimba women tend cattle. One young girl already wears the hairstyle and ornaments associated with her approaching initiation.

By afternoon we reach our camp beside a Twa village. Our safari tents have thick mattresses, pillows, a dining tent and even a mobile shower.

We leave the cameras packed and sit with our hosts first. Later, the Instax printer changes everything. Word spreads, and a queue forms for portraits. The exchange is simple: I make an image; each person receives a physical copy. The expressions as the photographs develop are better than the pictures on my own screen.

Dinner is spaghetti Bolognese with cold beer, it feels like an absurd level of comfort in the middle of nowhere.

Around the communal fire, Twa families talk, sing and dance. We are invited to join. Under a sky full of stars, the distance between hosts and visitors briefly disappears.

The cold returns after midnight. My sleeping bag copes well, but several children have coughs and we have seen few blankets. Hospitality may be warm; life here is not easy.

The Twa

The name Twa, or Vatwa, refers to several small indigenous communities in southwestern Angola rather than one uniform ethnic group. They are considered among the region’s earliest inhabitants and include groups such as the Kwisi and Kwepe, living across parts of Cunene, Huíla and Namibe. They should not be confused automatically with the Batwa communities of Central Africa, who have a different history.

Traditionally, the Twa survive through hunting, gathering wild fruits and plants, fishing and exchange with neighbouring pastoralists. Their knowledge of water sources, animal behaviour and the sparse vegetation is particularly valuable in this dry and unforgiving landscape.

Today, hunting grounds and access to land have greatly diminished. Many families have settled near Bantu-speaking pastoral communities, where they practise small-scale farming, look after livestock or depend on seasonal and casual work. Some have adopted the languages, clothing and customs of neighbouring groups such as the Himba, Hakaona or Dimba, while retaining their own memories, dances and environmental knowledge.

The Twa remain among Angola’s most economically and socially marginalised communities. Their changing lifestyle is therefore not simply the disappearance of an old tradition, but also a story of adaptation to restricted land, poverty and a rapidly changing southern Angola.

Early morning atmosphere at the Twa village.

HIMBA WEALTH AND HAKAONA HUMOUR

The Himba are the best-known pastoral people in this region. Cattle mean wealth and status, and some families reportedly own thousands, although most animals are away with the herders when we visit.

Thomas describes a traditional social hierarchy in which Himba occupy the highest position, followed by Hakaona, while Twa have historically stood near the bottom. The relationships are visible in daily work: Hakaona help build a hut in the Himba settlement, and Twa may herd livestock for wealthier Himba families.

The female chief is a commanding presence, dressed in harmonious layers of ochre, leather, hair extensions and jewellery. Photography is welcome, but again the wider context matters, huts, livestock enclosures, children and work establish that the portrait is not the entire story.

Among the Himba, jewellery is far more than decoration. Layers of leather, metal, shells and beads turn the body into a record of identity, age and social position. Necklaces gather around the shoulders, copper and dark metal rings cover the arms, while broad beaded anklets make even bare feet look impressively formal.

The pieces carry the colours of the surrounding landscape: warm copper, dark leather, pale shells and the deep red of otjize. Nothing appears delicate or purely ornamental. The jewellery looks solid, practical and made to last, a wearable family archive with considerably more character than anything found behind glass in a shopping centre.

Photographically, the details are irresistible. A portrait captures the person, but the close-ups reveal another story: countless rings, beads and small handmade elements.

The Himba

The Himba, who call themselves OvaHimba, live in the arid borderlands of northern Namibia and southwestern Angola. They speak Otjihimba, a language closely related to Herero, and traditionally follow a semi-nomadic pastoral lifestyle shaped by the search for water and grazing land.

Cattle form the centre of economic, social and spiritual life. They provide milk, meat and wealth, establish relationships between families and play an important role in ceremonies. Goats and sheep are also kept, while maize is cultivated where rainfall allows. Himba society follows a complex system of double descent: people belong to both their mother’s and father’s clans, with property, ritual duties and inheritance passing through different family lines.

Many Himba women apply otjize, a fragrant mixture of butterfat, red ochre and aromatic resin, to their skin and braided hair. Its deep red colour expresses beauty and identity, while hairstyles and jewellery can indicate age, marital status and stage of life. Men and children also wear hairstyles carrying social meaning.

At the heart of a traditional homestead burns the ancestral fire, connecting the living with their forebears. The livestock enclosure, family huts and sacred fire form both the physical and spiritual centre of the settlement.

Himba culture is not untouched by the modern world. Schooling, mobile phones, wage labour and towns increasingly shape everyday life, while drought, pressure on grazing land and proposed development projects threaten traditional pastoralism. Many families therefore combine older customs with modern necessities rather than choosing exclusively between the two.

Back at our campsite beside the Twa village, we stop for lunch before we return to the road, heading towards a Hakaona settlement, where a new campsite awaits us.

The Hakaona women's hairstyles use a dark mixture of charcoal, butterfat and plant resin rather than the red ochre associated with Himba. The visual distinction is immediate.

The social distinction takes longer to discover. After we photograph for a while, several women begin copying our movements with imaginary cameras. They frame us, press invisible shutter buttons and review equally invisible screens. The photographers become the photographed, and the whole village laughs.

Curiosity travels in both directions. Sometimes it even improves the composition.

The Hakaona

The Hakaona, also written Hakavona or Ovahakaona, live mainly in the remote wooded savannah and rocky hills around Oncócua in southern Angola. They belong to the wider world of southwestern Angola’s pastoral communities, but possess their own language, traditions and identity. They are sometimes called the “Black Himba”, a convenient tourist label that exaggerates their similarity to their better-known neighbours.

Hakaona families combine livestock herding with small-scale farming. Goats are particularly important for daily survival, while cattle represent wealth, prestige and security. Life follows the availability of grazing land and water, two resources that become increasingly unreliable during southern Angola’s prolonged droughts.

The women’s elaborate black hairstyles provide the most visible distinction from the red-ochre styles of the Himba. Braided hair is shaped and coated with a dark preparation often known as oronduze. Recipes vary between families and locations, but may combine charcoal or dark earth with butterfat, herbs and plant resin. The mixture fixes and conditions the hair, yet its deeper meaning lies in beauty, maturity, identity and belonging.

Jewellery, colourful fabrics and carefully arranged hairstyles complete an appearance that is neither costume nor performance, but part of a living visual language. Like the Hakaona themselves, however, these traditions continue to change as schooling, migration, modern products and environmental pressure reshape life in this isolated corner of Angola.

I wake at 5:30 for the camping version of a bathroom: whichever bush offers sufficient privacy. In this one respect, visitors and villagers operate under identical conditions.

The Hakaona settlement wakes slowly. People emerge wrapped in blankets and gather around the first fires. Sorghum is ground in one hut. Sheep, goats and chickens begin their morning negotiations. This is why sleeping beside a village matters: life resumes before the performance of visiting hours begins.

After breakfast, we begin the long drive to Lubango, or at least we intend to. Our first stop comes almost immediately for a quick repair, because no proper overland journey should begin without the vehicle requesting a little attention.

Next we stop for a brief Dimba encounter on the roadside.

The Dimba

The Dimba, also known as Ovandimba, are one of several small pastoral communities belonging to the wider Herero-related cultural world of southwestern Angola. They live mainly in the dry savannah around Cahama and Oncócua, where cattle herding is combined with goats, hunting and small-scale cultivation.

Cattle represent far more than food or income. They provide security, confer social standing and play an important role in marriage, inheritance and ceremonial life. Daily routines follow the needs of the animals and the seasonal search for water and grazing, an increasingly difficult task during periods of severe drought.

Women’s hairstyles form one of the most visible expressions of age, maturity and identity. Depending on life stage and local tradition, hair may be shaped into broad side sections, multiple crests or a large rounded style associated with married women and mothers. Dark mixtures of fat and earth help form and preserve these elaborate structures, while beads, metal ornaments, leather and colourful fabrics complete the appearance.

The Dimba are closely connected with neighbouring groups through language, trade and marriage, yet they maintain their own sense of belonging. Christianity, schooling, migration and modern clothing have changed how visibly traditions are practised, and no two settlements look quite the same. What appears “traditional” to a visitor is therefore only one moment in a culture that continues to adapt rather than remain conveniently frozen for the camera.

Our lunch we enjoy with a colourful background setting, before me make a detour....

...to visit one of the few San families in the area. Around a dozen people live in simple wooden huts. Everyone welcomes us with a handshake. Hunting and gathering are no longer the sole basis of life; the family grows crops, forges iron and hunts only occasionally.

For a demonstration, the men replace shorts and T-shirts with wraps. One appears to have been cut from an Ethiopian Airlines blanket, a fine example of global aviation supporting local wardrobe innovation.

They stalk imaginary prey with such concentration that we briefly wonder whether the prey is real. Then the seriousness collapses into laughter. The children enjoy it, we enjoy it, and the hunters clearly enjoy it most.

The San

The name San covers several distinct Indigenous peoples rather than a single tribe. Their communities speak different languages and maintain different identities, but share some of southern Africa’s deepest cultural roots. In Angola, San groups, including !Kung communities, live mainly across the southern provinces of Huíla, Cunene, Cuando Cubango and Moxico.

Traditionally, San life depends on an exceptionally detailed understanding of the landscape. Tracking animals, locating hidden water, identifying edible or medicinal plants and reading subtle changes in weather and soil are practical survival skills passed between generations. Storytelling, songs, healing dances and oral history preserve knowledge that cannot easily be separated into Western categories such as science, religion and art.

Today, relatively few Angolan San rely primarily on hunting and gathering. War, the expansion of livestock farming, commercial land use and restricted access to ancestral territory have pushed many communities towards a more settled existence. Families may combine small-scale farming, craftwork, gathering, occasional hunting and poorly paid agricultural labour for neighbouring landowners.

This transition is not always voluntary. Many San communities experience severe poverty, food insecurity and discrimination, while access to land titles, schools, healthcare and official identity documents remains limited. Traditional knowledge survives, but its future depends not only on cultural pride, it also requires the right to occupy and use the landscapes from which that knowledge originates.

Our time passes quickly. I would happily spend a night here. Instead, the late detour means we watch sunset beside a field of cattle rather than from Lubango. The unplanned view is better than expected. We reach the city in darkness, and after several dusty nights a shower feels less like plumbing than civilisation's greatest achievement.

FROM THE HIGHLANDS TO THE ATLANTIC

We finally see Lubango in daylight from the Cristo Rei Statue and the city's wonderfully oversized hillside letters. The panorama is broad, the sky clear and the stop shamelessly photogenic.

The Serra da Leba Pass is even more dramatic. Hairpin bends fall more than 1,000 metres from the plateau towards the coastal plain. Morning light is not ideal, but the road still resembles a piece of white ribbon dropped onto a mountain.

At the bottom, the temperature rises sharply. Lunch comes from a roadside grill: chicken and chips. The bird looks excellent and tastes good, but has the structural integrity of hiking equipment. It must have lived a long, active and fulfilling life.

The road towards Namibe crosses open yellow country with scattered bushes, rocky hills and almost no trees. Near the Atlantic, the air turns cold and cloudy under the influence of the Benguela Current, just as I remember from Namibia.

The Mungongo Oasis initially looks neither green nor especially oasis-like. Then the plateau opens into a canyon. The riverbed is dry, but groundwater supports trees and farming below. Flash floods make permanent settlement dangerous, so the Ovimbundu village stands on the safer, dustier plateau. Donkeys carry goods between both levels.

Inside the small church, a local choir begins to sing. The voices are powerful, repetitive and almost hypnotic. Standing above the canyon while the sound escapes into the dry landscape creates one of the day's most unexpected moments.

Namibe feels like a different Angola. The dry ochre landscape reaches almost to the Atlantic, where the cold Benguela Current replaces tropical heat with cool air, sea mist and a surprisingly restrained climate.

The city itself mixes wide avenues and faded Portuguese architecture with a busy fishing port and the slow rhythm of a provincial coastal town. Pastel façades hint at former grandeur, while peeling paint and quiet streets supply the reality check.

After days in the dusty interior, the ocean breeze feels wonderfully refreshing. Namibe may not be Angola’s most glamorous city, but its mixture of desert, history and Atlantic melancholy gives it a character entirely of its own.

A grilled fish dinner with vegetables and cooked banana costs €12. Seafood spaghetti on the same menu costs €25. Angola continues to protect some mysteries from unnecessary explanation.

INTO THE NAMIB - BREAKDOWNS AND ANCIENT MARKS

We leave Namibe for the desert and stop at an abandoned Portuguese trading post. Empty buildings stand under a hard blue sky, part ruin and part film set.

Soon afterwards the kitchen vehicle stops. An hour of diagnosis confirms that optimism is not a replacement part. We tow it towards Virei, squeeze four passengers into each remaining Hilux and drive ahead. The broken vehicle appears not long after us, an achievement that feels like either excellent mechanics or a minor miracle.

The truck remains in town for repair while we continue to camp beside a Kuvale settlement and a massive red-rock hill. Ancient paintings survive in a nearby shelter. Higher up, circles and geometric forms are engraved into the smooth surface.

Little is known about their makers. What is obvious is their fragility. The reddish outer layer is flaking away from the rock beneath it. Some figures are already incomplete; others will follow. Prehistory is disappearing one fragment at a time.

From the slope, late sunlight reveals the Kuvale cattle enclosures, our row of tents and a vast plain extending towards the distant highlands. The view is epic without needing any assistance from the word itself.

Back at camp, fish, gin and tonics, a fire and a sky crowded with stars complete the day. The kitchen truck may be broken, but the kitchen is clearly not defeated.

KUVALE COUNTRY

Before sunrise I climb the hill again. The first fire appears in the Kuvale compound below. Shapes slowly separate from darkness, and the valley shifts from blue to gold. I love this hour, when daily life begins without announcement.

After breakfast we enter the settlement. Outside the compound, a woman asks for money after a photograph. Inside, under the chief's supervision, everyone poses freely and payment is no longer discussed. Presumably compensation has been agreed centrally. The atmosphere is much easier as a result.

Huge cattle enclosures dominate the settlement, yet almost no cattle are present. The chief explains that rainfall has been good this year and grazing is available near the waterholes, so the herds do not have to travel as far as they would during drought.

The Kuvale

The Kuvale, sometimes called Mucubal, are Herero-speaking pastoralists living between Angola’s Atlantic desert and the inland escarpment of Namibe and Huíla. Their semi-nomadic way of life follows a system of seasonal transhumance: herds move between established grazing areas, riverbeds and water points, with routes changing when rainfall fails.

For the Kuvale, cattle are the centre of economic, social and spiritual life. They provide milk, security and exchangeable wealth, but also shape marriage agreements, inheritance, kinship and ritual obligations. Beef is not simply an everyday food; traditionally, cattle are slaughtered mainly for important ceremonies or during particular periods of the year. A family’s herd therefore represents far more than the contents of a very mobile bank account.

Women express identity through carefully arranged hairstyles, leather clothing, ochre and tightly woven fibre ornaments worn around the neck, arms and legs. Styles can communicate age and stage of life, although clothing and adornment vary between families and increasingly incorporate modern fabrics and manufactured materials.

The connection between people and cattle continues into death. During the funeral of a prominent herd owner, cattle may be sacrificed and their skulls or horns displayed around the grave. The animals commemorate the deceased’s status, generosity and relationship with the herd; older interpretations also describe them as accompanying their owner into the ancestral world. The cemetery thus becomes both a place of mourning and a visible record of a pastoral life.

Today, severe drought, commercial ranching and reduced access to traditional grazing land place growing pressure on Kuvale mobility. Their culture remains strongly centred on cattle, but survival increasingly requires adapting ancient pastoral strategies to boundaries and conditions their ancestors never had to negotiate.

Back in Virei we visit a Kuvale cemetery. Cattle skulls lie in front of the graves, marking animals sacrificed during funeral ceremonies. Their number indicates the wealth and status of the deceased. The visual language is direct: cattle remain part of a person's story after death.

The kitchen truck is still broken, so we tow it and continue with our intimate four-person seating plan.

Two waterholes provide welcome relief. At the first, cattle drink while children splash in the shallows. The second occupies an abandoned stone quarry, where cut blocks sit in an otherwise empty landscape. Even Thomas does not know why work stopped.

Farther south, the Colinas do Curoca rise from an eroded valley. Nearby, Lagoa dos Arcos holds freshwater beneath sandstone arches. Heavy rain earlier in the year has left water in the oasis, but we arrive late under cloud and the landscape never quite finds its best light.

To be honest, these two places are not among the trip's great highlights. It is too late to continue to Tombua, so we return to Namibe in darkness. Not every scheduled attraction becomes a memory. Sometimes the cattle pond beside the road wins.

WELWITSCHIA — TWO LEAVES AND PLENTY OF TIME

At first sight, the Welwitschia looks less like a botanical wonder and more like a heap of weather-beaten ribbons abandoned in the desert. Yet this untidy plant is one of the Namib’s most extraordinary survivors.

A mature Welwitschia mirabilis consists mainly of a short woody stem and just two permanent leaves. They grow continuously throughout the plant’s life, gradually splitting into long, twisted strips under the combined efforts of wind, sand and several centuries of poor hair care.

Found only in the Namib Desert of Angola and Namibia, the plant survives by using moisture from coastal fog and water deep beneath the ground. Individual specimens can live for more than a thousand years.

It may not win many beauty contests, but surviving here for centuries with two increasingly frayed leaves is considerably more impressive than looking tidy.

A MODEL SHOOT, A CLIFF AND AN HONEST ENDING

Our final day in the south begins with another casualty of the kitchen truck. Hilari and Denis take the bus to Lubango while we continue in the Hiluxes.

Namibe deserves more time. Colourful colonial buildings and African street life pass the windows, offering photographs I can see but cannot make.

A former Karakul sheep-breeding project consists of concrete houses designed to resemble traditional bomas. People still live among them. Later we search for little-known rock engravings, but the marked hillside is enormous and the exact location unclear. We do not pretend that enthusiasm is a navigation system.

The planned Ngendelengo visit also changes. The chief of the usual village died, and local beliefs surrounding his death mean that the village is no longer visited. Another settlement would require a two-hour detour.

Instead, Jade disappears in his Hilux and returns with around ten women. We meet beside a ruined building whose walls provide shade and a strong background. What follows is best described as a paid model shoot.

Some women feel awkward; others enjoy posing and checking the results. More people arrive until thirty or forty wait for photographs. Jade keeps the situation organised. The portraits are visually strong, but this is the least spontaneous cultural encounter of the journey. The photographs should not pretend otherwise.

The Ngendelengo

The Ngendelengo, also written Nguendelengo or Ovanguendelengo, are a small and little-documented community living mainly around the Serra do Ngendelengo and Kamucuio in Namibe Province. Their language, OluNgendelengo, is distinct but has developed alongside Kuvale, Kwandu and other languages of southwestern Angola. Culturally, they share elements of the wider Herero-related pastoral world while maintaining their own identity.

Traditionally, Ngendelengo families combine cattle and goat herding with hunting, gathering and subsistence farming. Livestock provide food, security and social standing, while crops such as millet or sorghum help communities survive in a landscape where rainfall is scarce and unreliable. Extended-family settlements are guided by a soba, whose authority may include resolving disputes, representing the community and safeguarding local customs.

Much about Ngendelengo life remains poorly recorded, and outside descriptions often rely on comparisons with larger neighbouring peoples. Their culture should therefore not be treated as a minor variation of the Kuvale or Himba simply because cattle, hairstyles or ornaments appear familiar. Shared regional influences do not erase a separate sense of belonging.

It takes almost two hours to reach the Tundavala Gap. Souvenir sellers soon surround us, but the cliff is genuinely spectacular. Late light enters the chasm and turns the escarpment gold. It is a fitting final landscape in southern Angola.

At Lubango airport we say goodbye to the local team and fly back to Luanda. Twelve days have gone quickly; the dust has entered places in our luggage that may never again see daylight.

ONE LAST DAY IN LUANDA

After our late arrival yesterday, we begin our final day in Luanda at the remarkably civilised hour of ten. The first stop is a fish market, packed with enough colour, noise and activity to occupy my camera for an entire morning.

We are warned about pickpockets, so our local guide and two additional staff accompany us through the market like a small personal security detail. It feels rather strange, and, naturally, ensures that we attract far more attention than we would without them.

For better photographic opportunities, I ask whether I can walk around independently. They agree, although I remain fairly certain that at least one of them always has an eye on me. Despite the warnings, I feel perfectly safe, and moving alone makes it easier to observe the market and take photographs without arriving as part of a minor diplomatic delegation.

Beside the main market hall, a rough wholesale market stretches along the beach. Fishing boats deliver their catch directly to shore, where young porters carry crates and baskets through the sand. Fish are washed, sorted and sold in the open air, while another building provides space for cleaning and gutting them before they are taken away.

It is an energetic working environment rather than a picturesque seaside scene. Rubbish covers parts of the beach, the smell is difficult to ignore, and hygiene appears to follow a fairly flexible interpretation. Yet the place feels intensely alive: boats arrive, traders negotiate, knives move quickly and the morning’s catch begins its journey from the Atlantic to Luanda’s kitchens.

We intend to continue to the Slavery Museum south of the city. An accident brings traffic almost to a halt, and the drive takes ninety minutes. On the outskirts, Luanda looks more like the African megacity I had originally expected: untidy, crowded and intensely alive. Vendors weave between cars, shoe cleaners search for clients and passengers wait for minibuses.

Unfortunately the museum is closed for renovation, so we see only the exterior. Angola carries deep scars from the transatlantic slave trade. From the sixteenth to the nineteenth century, millions of enslaved Africans passed through ports including Luanda and Benguela, many sent to Brazil. Few physical reminders survive, but the history is fundamental to understanding the connections between Angola and the Portuguese-speaking Atlantic world.

Traffic continues to dictate the day, so it takes a while until we reach our first lunch restaurant, which plays music at nightclub volume, so we retreat to the excellent fish restaurant from our arrival. The food is again very good and it takes again ages until we get it.

We have hoped to shop on the way to the airport but Luanda declines the proposal. Traffic consumes the remaining time, and the day begins to feel as though it has been spent mainly inside the bus.

The experience reinforces my one major itinerary criticism. I would trade part of the repeated journey through Luanda for Kalandula Falls and Pedras Negras, or extend the route along the Namibian border towards Ruacana and Tombua. Angola deserves more than twelve days; Luanda traffic deserves fewer.

Two hours before departure we finally reach the airport, say goodbye to Thomas and the Team and board the flight home.

FINAL VERDICT - ANGOLA BEYOND EXPECTATIONS

Angola exceeded my expectations in almost every way. I came for the landscapes and traditional cultures, but the people provided the strongest memories: children at the roadside, Twa families around a fire, Hakaona women pretending to photograph us, San hunters turning a demonstration into comedy and villagers patiently watching instant portraits appear.

The landscapes changed constantly. Cool highlands fell through the Serra da Leba towards the coast. Baobabs rose from dry plains. Ancient rock art survived on fragile red stone. Cattle country gradually opened into the Namib.

The journey was not polished. Distances were long, the kitchen truck broke down, some visits felt more authentic than others, and Luanda traffic could swallow a day whole. The Colinas do Curoca and Lagoa dos Arcos never became the highlights promised by the itinerary. That honesty belonged in the story too.

I would have changed the route rather than the destination. Four or five additional days could have brought in Kalandula Falls, Pedras Negras, Ruacana and more of the coast near Tombua. They would have made an already varied journey even stronger.

Angola was not the easiest choice for anyone seeking famous landmarks, predictable logistics or a tourism industry designed around visitors. It was rewarding for precisely the opposite reasons. Encounters still felt personal. Places were not performing for crowds. The country remained multifaceted, surprising and visually extraordinary.

It still lay beyond most people’s maps. At the time of our journey, that was part of its power.

Footnotes

Special thanks go to the entire local DIAMIR team, whose professionalism, dedication and good humour helped turn this journey into the extraordinary experience it became.

All pictures were taken with my Fuji xt-5 and iPhone 15

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FootNotes

Special thanks go to the entire local DIAMIR team, whose professionalism, dedication and good humour helped turn this journey into the extraordinary experience it became.

All pictures were taken with my Fuji xt-5 and iPhone 15

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