As we drove home, I called Teresa to let her know that we would not be coming.
However, I first got voicemail, and left a message. Here's the challenge: Teresa only speaks French and Portuguese. And since I'm learning Portuguese, I find it hard to focus on French only, so I end up speaking in Frantuguese. Add a few glasses of Vinho de Duas Quintas and some Mateus, and the result is a 30 second message residing somewhere in the digital stratosphere of KC spewing a lovely cacophony of Latin-root jabber.
I was able to catch Teresa on a second line to let her know we had JUST finished dinner, and we were exhausted. Noting, however, that while on the phone with her, one could hear the DJ mix going on in the background, so I think their party was JUST ramping up! All in all, it was the best decision, as all three of us in the car were tuckered out and needed to head home.
Especially Emiquilson. By the time we got to the car, it was evident that he was pooped out. We had thought that dinner would only take an hour and a half, and it took three. Though Paul had given him 2,000 Kwanzas for dinner to eat the same time we were, nothing of a reasonable price was open, so he was hungry AND tired.
Emiquilson is really a kind and quiet soul, and it pained both Paul and I that we had made his night a little miserable. On top of that, I had to ask the question - how are you getting home? I don't know that the other family that he works for is out late all that often, so this was the first time in a while that he wasn't leaving at a reasonable hour while the taxis, busses, and other modes of transport are still available down to Benfica - the barro just south of us.
So, Emiquilson, how are you getting home? He said he didn't know. He said that he would check with the driver dispatch in Talatona (Base 4) to see if there were any cars available to drive him. And that if he couldn't find a ride, he would just stay in the driver's lounge. My stomach sunk, and my heart broke a little at the thought that poor Emiquilson wouldn't get home tonight. The cars stay with the families overnight as a policy, so I couldn't offer to let him take it home (though I would trust him with it).
Because he's driving, for safety reasons, he couldn't call Base 4 - and time was of the essence to make sure we could catch a car for Emiquilson. So I got on the phone with them, and confirmed that there were two carros available to take Emiquilson home to Benfica. We all breathed a sigh of relief, as we zig zagged through the last few ruas of Talatona to get home.
Emiquilson helped get the plants out of the back, we grabbed him some water, juice, and a granola bar for the road (the only quick-access food worth giving him from the house at that hour), and thanked him over and over again, sending him home with "call me if you run into any trouble" and with the thought of setting up the guest bed as the next alternative.
Additionally, we asked that he not come in to work until 2:00 pm so that he could rest up and enjoy some family/football time. Drivers are supposed to report in at 8:30 unless otherwise instructed - we had asked he start at 1:00 pm on Friday.
Lesson learned. We know that nights like this will happen. We just need to plan ahead better: make sure there is plenty of food available, make sure our driver doesn't run a 12-hour day without notice, and give him a bit of a heads up that we're going to be out late.
So that was Friday night - I was up at 6:00 on the dot this morning writing all this, since I can't sleep past that time. I'm in my comfy new bathrobe and slippers (obrigada Isabel), and Paul has cooked up the chopped onions and boiled potatoes that Veronica had prepared for us the other day as home fries along with some eggs.
I'm sipping on some Tazo iced green tea in a large wine glass, since we don't have any other large volume containers for me to sip from, and I'm looking out on the yard, which is beginning its garden transformation, wondering what today holds.
Life is good in Luanda.
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