My comrades were more tense than I was. I realized that they had already had bad experiences on that path, so I stopped appreciating the natural beauty, having concentrated on the response to give in case any incidents arise.
We passed a new military camp, Onzo, the name I read again on the entrance sign. We didn't stop.
After a few hours of difficult and slow progression and having passed through several farms. In the distance, we saw a cluster of buildings of various kinds.
Due to the distance, they were still not very distinct, but as we approached, we started to see the huts in dry grass of the indigenous populations. Then, clearly highlighted and visible, a sign indicating the name of the place. Nambuangongo. It was a military barracks with some dimension.
The column stopped, we received orders to dismount and form the company. They distributed a zone for each platoon to have lunch and several announcements were made. We could not leave the area, because as soon as the vehicles were refilled with fuel, we would continue the journey.
My platoon was having lunch in an area behind a church. It was a very clean and well maintained cemetery. I was going to sit somewhere when a comrade said to me:
- Oh Ramon, this one was from your area. I went to the indicated tomb and confirmed that an army soldier was buried there, born in a parish in the neighboring county to mine.
He was seated at the foot of the grave that I ate part of my combat ration. In the end, I remember slapping the headstone and wishing the fellow to rest in peace.
We started by seeing in the distance, on the path from which we came, a cloud of dust advancing towards us, we realized that it would be a new military column.
It was a commando company that didn't stop in our area.
After refueling, our vehicles arrived. We are waiting for the shipment order.
The mere arrival of new troops at the barracks was a reason for pilgrimage for the army soldiers, who had been stationed at that end of the world for many months. Although it was a place of obligatory passage for those coming from Luanda and heading north.
They always found someone from their area and it was a joy. They were the ones who informed us that it must be a major operation, because since the day before, military columns had been passing by.
I'm going to take a little break from writing about my first time and tell an episode I experienced about three years later, already in the Metropolis and in my homeland.
In January 1973 I started working at the Ford Lusitana car assembly plant. I was put in the welding section to learn a certain job. The guy who was going to teach me was a boy four or five years older than me. He introduced himself, said his name and where he was from and how many years he had been working there. He explained the safety principles and started building the parts, asking me to pay attention.
He explained while doing the work because he had to feed the continuous assembly line. I was collaborating.
In the afternoon, I was already more comfortable in the construction of the piece, in conversation, the man asked which overseas province I had come from.
When he told him he had come from Angola, I remembered lunch in Nambuangongo sitting on a grave. As he had told me where he was from, I told him the episode because the soldier buried was from his land and might have known him.
I continued building the piece, but I realized that something was wrong because the man was crying.
I asked him what was going on, and he answered me in tears:
- "He was my only brother. He was the only soldier from my county who died there."
He asked me several questions about the cemetery and what the grave was like, then said he was going to tell his parents, his widowed sister-in-law and his nephew that he hadn't met his father.
It was an emotional moment and I was also moved by the comrade's reaction.
The man went to the bathroom to compose himself and I kept thinking that in life nothing happens by chance. Why is it that out of ten million people in our county, the first time I spoke about the situation I was going through, it had to be with my brother? It makes you think…
*By Joaquim Moreira