Naama Laufer
A Nicaraguan-born, United Nations-bred child, Naama landed in New York after Brandeis with a political science education and a side of creative internships. She landed a job at a beauty/fashion PR agency and two years later joined a start-up representing a highly selective roster of luxe/niche ie Prada, Freemans and Space NK. Three more years of beauty, parties and fashion landed Naama in Angola for a dose of reality. Today, Naama continues in Angola, consulting for NGOs and corporations in the fields of branding, pr and marketing. She has no pets, lives in an apartment where the toilet doesn't flush, and eats fish galore. Oh yeah, the year-long tan is fantastic.
Interesting Facts
Foods I don't like:
- eggplant
- stinky cheeses
- spinach (but i LOVE baby spinach)
- dry fish (or meat)
- olive garden pasta
General Information
| Majors | Politics |
| Hometown | world |
| Class Year | 2003 |
| Activities | International Club, New Fashions Club, ICC, Waltham Group |
College Journal
The World Relocates to Angola
When I thought that Angola was really at the end of the world (with heavy oil company investment, of course), two very interesting events snuck up on me this week. Ok, ONE was an event, the other was an occurrence.The Event
Tom Peters, the “guru” of modern management, blessed us poor lost souls with his presence this week in the Centro de Convenções Talatona (Convention Center).
Let me start off by saying that I can’t remember the last time I inhaled so deeply.
The main conference room was half-packed with executives from most of the large companies (domestic and foreign). Poised and ready to absorb global knowledge, we waited patiently for the whirlwind known as Tom Peters to begin.
He was fan-freakin-tastic. Minus the quasi-drool, I had to make a serious effort to close my mouth once in a while. Yes, the topics (invest in human capital, hire for attitude, promote inter-departamental communication, leadership, smaller offices the higher up you are) were not novel, by any means, which was exactly his point. We are living in a world where there are few Southwest Airlines, Googles, Apples, and Luiza Magazines. What we’re left with is a handful of wanna-be companies that have altogether forgotten how to do business…start with a killer smile, charm them with your language skills, and dance them to death. Delicious recipe. Why aren’t we making more of it?
So, after a day of brilliant examples, freezing cold temperatures, relatively tasteless food, and BAI´s heavy year-end report (bank sponsor), I left energized, giggly, and overall more complete. Hadn’t realized how much I was craving some global action…and English. Unfortunately, for those non-English speakers, they got less than little with the terrible translation service…alas, we’re still in Africa.
So worth the $2500 per person price tag the company picked up. Caught that? $2500! Who wants to volunteer to come to Angola next and talk about what to wear?
The Occurrence
Here I was, driving through Luanda´s traffic a bit later than usual and my eyes start wondering. They wonder right. They wonder left. And they wonder down…to a bumper sticker with OBAMA/BIDEN 08! I mean, you THINK I’m kidding, but I’m NOT!
Angola (heart) Obama. And just like that you’ve got your next bumper sticker.
2009-10-30 04:50:00
Children's Day
Dear friends, countrymen, and non-countrymen,It has been a while. Naama bad.
I continue in Angola, land of russet sunsets, Matias Damasio tunes, and Shabbat dinners in 30o C…every week…when the oven cooperates.
So, as you might have guessed, the kitchen, alas, has not been redone, BUT, news of the week is:
- Decided to leave my position at the ad agency, Publivision. I’ve been invited to open and manage the in-house communications department for a civil construction company, Prebuild. Yes, I will BREATHE civil construction from now on. Smells goooood.
- 2) We're likely moving out of our spacious yet falling-apart-home to a remodeled Teixeira Duarte apartment, where electricity and water are a constant and the kitchen doesn't smell like sewer. Really.
- The mega hole on our street is not likely to be fixed this week but somehow the wonderfully colorful “zungeiras” continue to find their way to our neighborhood with buckets-full of sweet pineapple, juicy papaya, guava, bananas, and fish
I don’t like holidays dedicated to one member of society…children, dads, moms. How can a mother give her daughter an extra serving of food on the 1st of June and have her starve every other day of the year? I don’t understand that concept and certainly refuse to accept it. My children will be spoiled from day 1, hear “no” when it’s “no,” and always have enough food on their plate, be it January 1 or December 31.
Why not start “Children´s Day” today. Think of those around the world who aren’t fortunate enough to have food on their plates, books for school, or a good night´s sleep. No guilt trip here, just a reality check. Perhaps one way to make a dent is to check out www.palmsforlifefund.org. Help a few more of us celebrate being under 18.
2009-05-29
The Bug
A couple days ago, I received an email from our good friend, Dan Silverstein, whining about how he hadn’t received a blog in ages…and how he was “over me.” Right. Let’s put an end to that, shall we?
This week I bring you a double header, just to make sure you keep liking me. Just scroll down after you finish “The Bug.”
Back to the blog at hand…I caught malaria. Shrieks, horrified glances, panic etc etc etc. I’m fine.
On Monday, after finally confirming with myself that something was awry in my body (and that no, I was not pregnant), I headed to the neighborhood clinic where a Spanish doctor (taught in Cuba) headed a lovely little practice called AFRUS. Prick on finger, blood on microscope slide, and waiting room for 20 minutes. Doc confirmed, yup, you have THE BUG. Welcome to Angola. She actually said “Welcome to Angola!”
So what did this mean, 6 tablets (2 on the first day, 1 per day after that), lots of juice drinking (yum, mango) and a choice of the other rack of stuff she gave me including a tonic (for strength…made in India…rrriiight), an ear/nose liquid (also made in India, I think), and blue giant pills against “pain” (I’ll stick to Advil thank you very much).
I arrived home and was out for pretty much the rest of the week. The couch became my best friend.
No, no, no, saga not finished yet. Tuesday morning Luis wakes up with a pounding headache, and I tell him, GO GET CHECKED. He ignores my wise suggestion and goes to work. A few hours later I get a call. “Went to the clinic, was really not feeling well. I have malaria.” HA! Picture the two of us, draping the couch in our melancholy, dizzy state…for one week! …And we’re still madly in love…go figure.
To date, I have done the following to protect myself from the evil little mosquitoes:
- Demal 200
- Bug spray the moment the sun starts going down
- Mosquito nets
- Air conditioning in apartment
- Citronella candles
- Mosquito coils
I mean really. What else can I DO???? Suggestions welcome. Say NO to malaria.
2009-03-28
Pedido. The Engagement
Once upon a time, our friend, let’s call him Antonio (…because that’s actually his name), met a lovely Angolan girl, Elizabeth. A Spaniard in Angola, Antonio had one chance to continue dating her – the “pedido” aka taking the plunge. Her parents, from a fairly conservative background, required that their daughter end her dilly dallying and get engaged. After panic, frustrations, and much much love, they finally decided to give in to her parents’ request.And so, one fine day, Luis and I get a call to represent Antonio’s family during the pedido.
The pedido is an agreement between families that sets the stage for the rest of the marriage process. In many smaller villages (and traditionally), the pedido is actually the marriage itself, so needless to say, we were all nervous for Antonio.
This is how it goes:
1) Groom-to-be (GTB) makes request to bride-to-be’s (BTB) family
2) BTB’s family sends GTB a “carta de alambamento” which lists all the items they will need in order to accept the proposal (this list includes everything from cows to whisky bottles) AND the very important “sum of money” (supposedly “symbolic”) to include in the “envelope.” That’s right, ladies and gents, a bribe.
3) BTB’s family sets the date (Antonio really tried some hard negotiating on this point…with no success)
4) GTB and BTB select family members who will be present (Antonio’s side had a myriad of 15 foreigners from Spain, Portugal, Belgium, Italy, Brazil, and France…there were some physical similarities…really)
5) Day of (Antonio panic comes back into full force) BTB’s family awaits anxiously for GTB and family to appear at their home (“home” in this case was the complex of the Spanish Cooperation)
6) We arrive. BTB’s family on one side of the room, GTB’s family on the other side…and the bargaining begins
7) The “carta de pedido,” which includes the famous “envelope,” is presented and we each introduce ourselves…some of us blabbering in a somewhat cohesive Portuguese
8) …and finally the BTB arrives (after having to pay her “taxi”…the pedido is all about how much money the BTB’s family can suck out of the GTB’s family)
9) Bargaining in full force.
10) Families come to an agreement. Ring placed on finger. Champagne bottle opened. And DJ begins.
Tada! We had to sit through an hour of this…we were all sweating but relieved. Antonio is engaged.
Doesn’t this sound a LITTLE like Jewish engagements or is just me?
2009-03-21
New Year, New...
SHOES (two pairs, delivered by hand by my sis who attempted to surprise visit me but couldn’t due to visa invitation letter), giggles, smiles, laughter, chuckles, screams, whispers, yelps, tears (happy ones), spices, cook books, invented recipes, kitchen tiles (really REALLY, this time), fishing rods, DEMAL 200 (the ultimate anti-malaria remedy), sneezes, surprises, deep breaths, whispers, kisses, caresses, mattress, sheets, pillows (brought to us by Maayan ltd), bathtub, hot water, camping gear, friends, plunges, adventures, turquoise oceans, seas, rivers, skype bills, photos, paintings, sleep positions, sitting positions, literature (vampire books, anyone? ANYONE??), additions at the local supermarket, driver’s license, all-nighters (but not the way they used to be), stolen glances, sounds, trees, smells of the wind (intertwined with smells from the kitchen), lunches, dinners, afternoon naps, gestures, slangs, apartment, candle-lit moments, pasta shapes, babies, door handles, baths (as in bath bath BATH), families, new airplane meals, new satellite internet system (really praying for this one), tickles, hugs, cheese sandwiches (not of the stinky variety), keys, questions, curiosities, guesses, solutions, accents, hairdos, naildos, cocktails, clients, beats, harmonies, Putumayo CDs, board games, climates, celebrations, world leaders, tribal leaders, irreverent ideas, conversations, cartoon characters, visions, words for indescribable feelings.
I showed you mine. Now show me yours.
Happy New Year dear friends, wherever you may be.
2009-01-29
Garbage Trucks
Coming back from “Tuesday Pizza Night” (fun little tradition we had when we were yung’uns), we found ourselves neatly parked behind a garbage truck.Thoughts and emotions immediately rushed in like a working trash disposal.
“There are garbage trucks in Luanda??”
“Trash gets picked up in Luanda??”
“Why did we choose the street with the only operational garbage truck in Luanda??”
…”There are garbage trucks in Luanda??”
So, with this influx of shocking realizations, we eyed in amusement at the scene that unfolded in front of us.
• Step 1: trash receptacles (another huge “what??”), plastic bags, and potato sacks were dragged to the truck’s butt where massive, rusty, fork-like teeth were awaiting their mission
• Step 2: attempt to load receptacles and bags onto this contraption (failing various times)
• Step 3: begin “lifting and dumping” operation
• Step 4: with a rake (a RAKE), remove the bags that are stuck (every other) from the teeth of this monster vehicle
• Step 5: wipe sweat from brow
• Step 6: move truck 10 meters, and restart procedure
Needless to say, half an hour later, Luis and I found an opening and fled the scene.
I am happy to report that there are in fact garbage trucks in Luanda and they are fully operational.
2009-01-06
Dirt Roads
The promise: two cities both alike in dignity situated down under.
The plan: a romantic escapade (on a 3-day weekend) to Benguela and Lobito, the southern gems of Angola.
The result: after a day & night of finicking about in restaurants dominated by [insert grimace and pause for effect] foreigners, Luis and I found ourselves in not one, but two, police stations. Please don’t panic ladies and gents, our little fieldtrip was all on a mission to find a little yellow school which I had been asked to photograph for one of our clients. Our guide, a cop, who was defaulted into showing us the way, was one of the most picturesque Angolans yet (ex-army, very smart though with a middle school education, and intoxicatingly honest). When we left him at the station after taking the pics, we realized that we had not taken a shot of him. Moments are not always so easy to share.
The school “1 de Junho” (1st of June – Children’s Day) had recently been built by the Cooperativa Cajueiro, an organization that quite literally dominates the construction landscape in Angola in the area of quality-meets-low-income...and by that, I mean little houses with a fence, two-three bedrooms, running water, electricity, and (wait for it) a yard. Pure luxury, we don’t even have a generator that works.
So, what did it take for us to reach the school? I would love to share with you tales of a mule, a broken bicycle, and a nomad that led us along the promised path, but alas, nothing quite as exciting. We did however take a pleasant little trip down a dirt road. You know, I’ve come to realize that little dirt roads are like Secret Santa, you really never know whether you’re going to like what you get but after waiting for it for EVER, you have to smile when you open the package (or when the car stops, in this case). Little dirt roads are our specialty.
So, the car stopped, we smiled, took some pics and headed on the 7-hour trip back to our paved-road reality. Smooth.
Coming next: Rio Longa…
2008-11-11 06:35:08
Saudades
There’s a Portuguese word that has no direct translation in any language I know. “Saudades.” The word is a longing for things, people and places that aren’t quite available in the “now.” You know, that feeling of I’m-never-going-to-live-in-that-house-again, wow-i-remember-when-I-could-fit-in-that-dress, where-in-the-world-is-Naama…you know, those kind of feelings. So, as they say here, to” kill” your saudades (no violence here, really), I have returned.
I feel like those boy bands that are gone for an eternity and then decide to launch their “Best of…” album. Those albums mostly suck, but I hope I will not disappoint with my ramblings this time round.
I have a new home on the web, tada!. As my life has gone from saving-the-world-via-building-a-website-for-an-NGO to running an ad agency in Angola, it was wise of me to stop abusing of the Palms for Life blog and create my own little nest here in the heart (or rather the southern heart) of Africa. I have, however, negotiated a pretty good deal with PFL. When I have something to say about development issues in this beautiful country of mine, I can jot down a line or two. Lucky me.
Work will start on the house. Really, this time. And the kitchen WILL be redone.
2008-10-25 08:49:06
It's the little things
On our way to Pambala, a beach 2 hours from Luanda (north bound) where we picked veggies from a huge vegetable garden and where a wave almost stripped me of my surfer's bikini, there's this church and its garden.
Picture this: red dirt roads, live chickens waiting to be bought and killed, mega semi-trucks in mini semi-highways, women in pano grilling some sort of meat by the street, myriad of disorganized taxi vans (that somehow ARE, in fact, organized), and then all of a sudden , a patch of green, ACTUAL green grass. I blinked. My synapses had obviously malfunctioned and I had started to see…green. I felt like asking the four “ws” and one “h”: where, what, why, when, HOW??
A church that had been constructed during colonial times with the perfect pink/peach coloring (you know what I’m talking about) stands erect as the maternal guardian of this dirty G-d forsaken town of Cacuaco. And its garden, has become for the community a symbol that is somehow respected. Did I mention there were FLOWERS in this garden?? It was truly a sight for pollutionized eyes. Angola just keeps surprising me. What a little lot of heaven.
Onto other news: I was offered a job at PubliVision, a media and advertising company here in Luanda, and I’ve accepted! The charge is “Executive Director” although it seems the work will most likely be manager of internal and external relations. The agency is young, craving dynamism, and working with the crème of the crème of Angolan brands. I start a week from today at which point, I will be killing myself working part-time for DW and part-time for PubliVision until my DW contract is over in September. Goody… So this means, dear friends, this little lady is staying in Angola for quite some more time. Visiting is now required.
2008-07-28 05:59:01
Toy Soldiers
...or trucks. It’s official, I have become an art collector, patron of the art Angola has to offer, if you will (and I will).Two weekends ago, I went to Porto Amboim. A little south from Luanda, we left early in the morning to try catching the fishermen coming in from sea. We just made it. A friend’s “lady” lives in this fantastically dilapidated port town which once was Angola\'s jewel. Now, all we saw were huge empty warehouses, a fish factory with more rust than smell, and a disco “Leite” (Milk) which we had all to ourselves until about 11pm. Think the locals were staying away.
The weekend was filled with fresh grilled fish (bought 10kg worth!), sleeping under a jango (in a tent…with a mattress!), and a short exploratory trip to the waterfalls. Strangely enough, when we left the waterfalls, we all realized we hadn’t actually trekked to see them, but rather made friends with a little Angolan boy and his trucks.
He came around shyly, dragging his pile of tin along a stick with a string loop at the end of it (which helped to drag the trucks). He was sweet, black as soot with a white smile that sucked you in. I fell in love…and after half an hour of talking about his trucks, I decided it was time for me to invest in something completely useless and permanently beautiful.
The negotiations began. The boy, Toní, had never sold anything he created before. He was shocked when I told him I wanted to purchase it, but I explained to him why. Everything was in the “why.” He had made an art piece. He was an artist. The truck had unfathomable details – rearview mirrors, seats for four, wheels on an axel. Did I mention it was made out of tin? Hot dog cans, rubber from shoes (for wheels), metal wire from used electronics, and wooden sticks to hold the wheels together.
He was reticent about giving me a number, so we plopped a 200 kwanza bill on the table ($3) and asked again. After five minutes of hesitating (not knowing whether he should say 200, since he knew that’s what we had, or less, or more) he looked up, and in an inaudible murmur, whispered “200.” We all agreed it was a fair price. What would he do with the money? What was his favorite food? Pasta! Ok, you can eat pasta for a week. Or, he said, I can buy material to make more trucks.
I'm an art collector. My first purchase sits on my night table.
Pictures! http://picasaweb.google.com/naama.laufer/PortoAmbuim
2008-07-10 06:51:10
Ding! Round II
You stare at your computer screen and think, “WHAT??” Yes, ladies and gents, I am back for another thrilling, exhilarating, gripping, rousing, breathtaking adventure in the beautiful Angola. I was gone for 6 weeks and feel that more roads have been built, more floors on buildings are going up, and more garbage trucks are roaming the city at the most random hours of the day. I call it improvement.And so, I am back home with tons of delicious butterfly kisses. It’s winter season here which, gasp, means cooler nights and, tada, less mosquitoes (although the buggers still got me my first week here). I am loaded with a wok pan which I schlepped from NY, a couple lemon/pepper spice tins, a few African panos, my iPod dock, baby wipes, and 70lbs worth of clothes and toiletries (Ellin Lavar’s liquidmotion goes with me wherever I go).
I am so ready for round II.
2008-06-23 11:58:00
Last Dip
Drove back from the beach yesterday, Palmeirinhas. The sand was interminable, the water a perfect temperature with just the right amount of waves. My last dip.I feel like one of those wartime reporters who spent three months deep in the bush, dropped off in a country they’ve never visited before (probably didn’t even know where they were), given a pad of paper and a box of pencils, and just spewed out page after page of ramblings. My ramblings are a website, and so I present to you www.dwangola.org.
Three months in Angola were intense, and I return to you with a new sense of wonder (enter Aladdin theme song) and an EU passport that gives me a three-month stay in the US. At the moment, my dear fans, the world is truly my oyster and I’m not quite sure what the next step will be. Might start a blog there as well…
Here is to me signing off from the land of baobabs and mustard sunsets.
2008-04-21 11:58:00
Community Work
Don’t go picturing Naomi Campbell in designer-wear strutting her 3-inch heels picking up trash in New York City. This was real community work as in 1980s Land Rover a la Indiana Jones (the one with seating for 8 – or 12 – in the back, two benches facing each other), jeans and Pumas, bag-full of bread and Cadbury for snacking, hole-ridden side roads, red dirt everywhere, and then out of nowhere a community jango sprouts.The jango (see pic, a community’s meeting place) was where KixiCredito, DW’s microfinance offshoot, and PARCIL, DW’s program that promotes social infrastructure rehabilitation, were to meet with the village’s elders to discuss their livelihood.
Women on one side (nursing mothers outside), men on the other, me in one of the “privileged” seats (for a second I thought I had committed a horrible oops and should be sitting elsewhere – they assured me that no, I was to remain in the plastic chair) a group of about 30 villagers, most of whom didn’t speak Portuguese but one of the many local languages, gathered to set their community’s priorities. What was most important? Water? School reconstruction? Healthcare? These seem to be the plights of most everyone here in this wealthy country.
I was surprised that the session started with a prayer (in Portuguese). All stood, this rich, traditional group, to pray to a G-d that I’m not sure they even believed in. But when all were back in their seat, the women spoke. At first, it took Luis (PARCIL program manager) a couple of different approaches to get them engaged and trusting…and then the dam broke. There’s a school but no teachers, there’s land for a clinic, but no money to buy materials much less medicine, government promised water pumps, but none have been installed, and of course, there’s no electricity. So, what comes first?
What comes first??? What do you mean what comes first? Aren’t these all basic human needs? It’s incredible how these poor poor communities have to pick one among these, and yet, they do. Once they have water, they deal with education. Once they have teachers in their schools, they construct the clinic. Once the community is healthy, they get light…and so on. The great power that DW has been giving these communities for so many years is to depend on themselves to pull themselves out of poverty. No amount of international funding can match that.
Only quasi-white person in the group, this was one of my most fulfilling experiences here.
Hot off the press
My visa came through and my passport is back in its orange leather sleeve. I will be saying good bye to Angola on the 23rd of April…back in the US on time for my birthday. Bittersweet, I tell you.
Somehow, however, I (ahem, DW) will not have to pay ANY fine…shocking. I’ve been in the country for over the “allotted time” but the universe is working with me. Three months and a bit will be my total time (this time) here in Africa.
2008-04-11 04:50:00
G-ds Kingdom
I crossed the Luanda border last weekend. Somewhat illegal, as I do not have my first visa extension quite yet (also hoping passport is not lost in the “system” but that’s another story), I was officially visiting another province – Malange.The supposed 6-hour, 6-car trip (which somehow extended into ten hours) led us to the Quedas de Kalandula. One of the most spectacular sites I have ever seen, the waterfalls exploded with such perfect precision that I sat stunned and simply admired G-d’s kingdom. It was unbelievable. I regretted not knowing how to do yoga, because it just felt right to sit in lotus position and meditate. I did it anyway.
So, after grilling, dancing and singing, we all passed out at 10pm (pathetic, I know), to wake up at 4am (couldn't sleep), wait until the sun was out at 6am, and take a dip in the freezing waters of the river that led to the falls. Fantastic…and freaking cold.
Late morning took us down to the bottom via a narrow, muddy, insect-(maybe cobra) filled, swamp-like, almost-vertical bush/forest path. A group of 8, almost all of us fell at least once, scratched up some part of our body, and/or got bitten. We loved it and returned to take another dip in the freezing waters. You say masochism, I say…peer pressure, no, really.
So, to wrap up the story, it started pouring, weather plummeted a few hundred degrees, we cooped up in our tents (hoping they wouldn’t be washed away) and had another night of grilling, dancing and singing. The 10-hour car trip back home was a cinch. I could really write a guide book for this country.
Kitchen update: Think the remaining tiles are not going to go up and we will forever have a bucket to catch the water below the sink. At least we have a bucket…
A key got stuck in our front door lock. No idea how it happened, but we currently have to go in through our kitchen door (didn’t even know we had a kitchen door!) and make sure the lock of our gate, the lock on the chain, and the lock on our kitchen door gate are all…locked (couldn’t think of another word here). Just hoping the sandwich guy doesn’t show up at 4am again…
Also realized I didn’t share my fishing adventures with you all…nor the TWO tuna I caught. So proud…so proud…Some pictures uploaded for you to share in my spoils of the sea. Will upload more as soon as internet cooperates.
2008-03-31 04:15:00
