gabela: the coffee, the heat, and the damn numbers 3346015 & 1024868244

gabela, angola. i'm sitting in a place that calls itself 'café central' but it's basically a concrete room with a fan that sounds like a dying wasp, and i've got my notebook out because i need to process the last 48 hours before i lose my mind. also, my back hurts from sleeping on a 'mattress' that was probably a sack of coffee beans in a past life. i’ve been chasing the ghost of a coffee that’s supposed to be legendary round these parts: a Geisha varietal from a tiny farm on the outskirts, lot number 3346015. the other number, 1024868244, is the phytosanitary certificate that took seven emails, three visas, and a small bribe to obtain. now i'm starting to think it's cursed.

the heat here is no joke. i just checked my phone: 31.39°C, feels like 29.71, humidity 25% - a dry oven. i’m sweating through my linen shirt and i haven't even left the cafe. the sun doesn't just shine; it hammers down like someone's trying to weld the sky. i, a coffee snob from the Pacific Northwest, am wilting. i haven't had a decent espresso since i left luanda, and that was a disaster. but i'm on a mission, and i can't turn back now.

i’ve heard through the grapevine that the farm with lot 3346015 is run by an old guy named senhor antónio who allegedly processes his beans with a special anaerobic fermentation that gives the coffee notes of jasmine, bergamot, and a hint of blueberry. i’d call that witchcraft, but i’m willing to try anything. unfortunately, no one in town seems to know exactly where his farm is. i’ve asked at the market, i’ve asked the motorbike taxi drivers, i’ve even tried to sweeten the local police with a pack of biscuits. all i got were cryptic smiles and a warning: 'the road out there is not for tourists.'

here’s where i’m at, roughly. you can see the red pin on the map:

the map looks empty, but trust me, that red dot is in the middle of a dust bowl with a few tin roofs. if you ever get bored of this place, sumbe’s atlantic beaches are about a two-hour drive west, though the road looks like it was last paved in the portuguese colonial era. benguela, three hours south, actually has a barista scene that would make a portland hipster weep with joy. i’d hop on a bus in a heartbeat if it weren’t for the $12 i spent on that cursed certificate.

speaking of which, i thought i’d share some gossip i picked up at the internet cafe (yes, there’s still internet cafes here). a trucker who delivers cashews told me that senhor antónio's farm used to belong to a diamond miner who went bust and left the coffee trees to grow wild. he said the beans are so good because they’re grown in volcanic soil, and the farmer uses a special technique of drying them on raised beds that catch the morning mist. sounded like poetry. but the guy who runs the internet cafe shook his head and said that story’s been going around for years, and the only thing you’ll find out there is a broken-down tractor and a very angry dog. take that with a grain of salt, or maybe a pinch of salt from the coastal winds.

another local, a young woman named ana who works at the guesthouse, warned me: 'the coffee at the hotel is instant with a dash of cinnamon. it’s an abomination.' she pointed me instead to a tiny stall near the market run by an ethiopian expat who supposedly does a proper pour-over. i tried it this morning, and it was... okay. the beans were over-roasted, but the brew had a decent body. ana also mentioned that if i stick around until friday, the weekly market has a guy who roasts his own beans right there and sells them for pennies. might be worth the wait, but my stomach is already staging a protest against the dust.

i’ve compiled a few resources that might help if you ever find yourself in this corner of angola. this tripadvisor thread has some outdated but useful tips on transportation. there’s also a yelp page for café central - surprisingly, the one negative review mentions exactly the same fan noise i’m hearing. and if you want deep dive on angolan coffee history, check out this article on specialty coffee that explains why the country was once a top exporter before the civil war. finally, the locals hang out on the angola travel board where you can ask for up-to-date info. beware though, the internet is slow enough to make you question reality.

i thought i’d share a few photos to give you a sense of the place. first, some raw coffee beans that might be from lot 3346015 (or maybe just a random bag i found):

the landscape around gabela is harsh but beautiful, with red earth and scrubby trees that look like they’re from a spaghetti western:

and here’s a glimpse of the street life - motorbikes, goats, and the occasional camel (yes, camel. i’m not joking):

i’m running out of time and battery, but i’ll try to find senhor antónio before i collapse. the heat is making me see mirages, and that certificate number 1024868244 is etched into my brain like a prison tattoo. if i do locate the legendary Geisha, i’ll message you the cupping notes. if not, you’ll find me in sumbe, with my feet in the atlantic, drinking a beer and pretending the whole coffee thing never happened.

anyway, that’s the messy update from the middle of nowhere. hope you’re staying cool, wherever you are.