The James Bond of Angola

A Jon Story

It started like most other nights, dinner down at the bigger community house, leaving our small mud house alone for a couple hours.
We had just finished dinner and I was going up to our small mud house to get our coffee press so Layne and I could have some hot coffee before we went to bed. As I approached the house, I noticed a bag of mine lying outside on the ground about 15 feet away from the front door. For about 1 second I was confused, then I glanced up at our front door and noticed it was cracked open and the lock that usually keeps it closed was hanging to the side.
I broke into a full sprint and went crashing through the door. I looked around, hoping beyond hope that what I suspected hadn’t happened. Everything appeared normal, but the very first place I walked to and hoped to find normal was where I kept my laptop computer backpack.
It was gone.
The only other place that was disturbed was where the bag sat that I had found outside. Layne’s laptop bag, which sat immediately next to mine was there and undisturbed.
Running back to the big house I announced that the house Layne and I stayed in had been broken into and my computer was gone. A collective gasp came up from the 4 other people there and we tried a cell phone for a local police officer (the police have no emergency phone number in Menongue, Angola and it was just because this police officer happened to be a friend outside his police duties that we had his number). There was no answer and I grabbed for my keys and jumped in my 4×4 Land Cruiser (what I’ve named “The Bison”) to speed out looking for a thief with a blue and black backpack on. Because of the civil war people have access to guns like the Russian made AK-47 and there are plenty of stories of people bringing them along when breaking into a house. Knowing this, I grabbed my replica Glock 9 mm pellet gun and put it in my pocket on my way out.
Taking dirt road turns on nearly two wheels I rounded a bend and came across a man walking along the road.
This is not that abnormal in Menongue and, as this man seemed in no hurry and wasn’t wearing a backpack, I stopped to ask him if he had seen anyone who might be either of those two things. He seemed very reluctant to stand next to the car and, even when I beckoned him closer and tried to move the car near him, he moved to keep himself about 20-30 feet away.
As I moved the car toward him one final time, he snapped. He broke into a dead run the other way down the road.
I shifted into reverse and floored the gas pedal.
Because the road is lined with thick, tall, hard to navigate grass, this man stayed running down the road. As The Bison closed the distance between us I briefly wondered “What am I going to do if I catch him in this truck? I can’t run him over or anything and he’s right in the middle of the road.” Luckily, I was saved from having to make that decision because, when I was about 15 feet (and closing) away he broke off into the tall grass.
Without thinking I followed him in The Bison.
It was quite a bumpy ride but my foot stayed down and I stayed close to the fleeing suspect.
Suddenly, I broke into a clearing where there were about 4 or 5 houses and maybe 3-4 women sitting around a camp fire.
The man ran around the houses and continued on into the grass. I leapt from The Bison and the women jumped up pointing in the direction of where the man had run and shouting encouragement to catch him as their houses had been broken into recently as well and they were missing an electricity generator.
Running full steam into the tall grass I pulled out a flashlight in my left hand and my pellet gun in my right. I had no idea where I was and was simply trying to follow the direction of this fleeing suspect.
Once again I suddenly arrived in a clearing, this time with only two small houses and maybe 5-8 people sitting around a camp fire.
I must have been quite a sight.
Here comes this white guy, bursting out of the 8 foot tall grass, waving a flashlight and what looks like a very real gun.
About 4 of these people ran in all directions.
Startled, and a little confused at the sudden appearance of more houses and people, I started pointing my gun all over the place and yelling for people to stop and tell me where the man ran.
Bedlam.
People were running helter skelter not sure what to think of this crazy, bearded, wild-eyed guy who kept asking where his computer was.
Finally, I realized that I was getting nowhere with this tactic and also realized that, since people pretty much knew me and the others I was staying with as missionaries, it was best that I put my gun away and start acting less idiotic.
The rest of the night passed in a blur and I never did end up getting my computer back. I still look back on that night and stand amazed the response to my bush-bursting-gun-waving-crazy-talking appearance didn’t get a response in kind. I even ended up friends and on very good terms with one of the men there.

Still… some times I like to look back on that event as the only time in my life (so far) that I’ve been able to act like some sort of CIA counter-terrorism operative… even though I didn’t actually catch the terrorist.