Sean Jacobs's Blog, page 497

Songs for Bafana (Also Known As African Cup of Nations Playlist N°2)

By Njabulo Ngidi

Against expectations South Africa finished top of their group and made it to the quarterfinals. Hopefully the team and coaches will concentrate on the next match and not get carried away like the country’s sports minister after the 2-0 win over Angola last week. (He railed against white supremacy, unpatriotic critics and predicted South Africa would win the tournament.) So what are the South Africans dancing to? Tumi and the Volume’s “Afrique” poetically mentions all African countries, with the exception of South Sudan which didn’t exist when the song was recorded, backed by 340ml in this colossal union:

Vetkuk vs Mahoota ft. Dr Malinga. “Via Orlando”: This is the current anthem from clubs to shebeens with Dr Malinga’s kicks, or is it dance moves, amusing all those who have seen it.

Zubz, “Premier MC”: The Zambian born, Zimbabwe raised and South African-based rapper is at his creative best in this song where he compares a tight MC to a football team dropping some names in between taken from his best album Headphone Music in a Parallel World.

Sifiso Sudan ft. Tumi, “Once Upon A Time in Africa”: Two wordsmiths came together to offer this timeless class where they rap about an Africa of yesteryear with all eyes on the continent, it’s feating to take those watching back a few years to appreciate the present even more.

Spoek Mathambo, “Let Them Talk”: Mathambo has turned into an international hipster superstar with his “engineered” music, infusing different genres from rap to pop to create his unique sound. The title is one Bafana Bafana players should keep in their minds and passing to detractors as they attempt to rewrite their recent history.

* Njabulo Ngidi is a Johannesburg-based football reporter.

What We Learned From Day 8 Of The 2013 African Cup of Nations

Where the icy Benguela and toasty Agulhas currents collide, a rich, productive football ecosystem can emerge. This was especially true today where two stadiums, the Nelson Mandela Bay Stadium in Port Elizabeth and the Moses Mabhiba Stadium in Durban, became a swirl of football performers, supporter rituals, a celebration of survival and success for some and a cruel end for others. 

When the Tubarões Azuis or Blue Sharks swam into Port Elizabeth, there was a Luso slick and loose petro dollars in their way. The Palancas Negras were familiar cousins, but had recently evolved and came to Nelson Mandela Bay Stadium with an added oil gland and cash incentives. Although Angola was always larger, it now seemed an altogether more formidable foe. The allusion that size and wealth positively correlate to produce better or winning football seemed to be working when on 33 minutes Nando Neves was pressured into conceding an own goal. Nando is more than just a Captain for Cape Verde. He is the very embodiment of their identity. The God of the Blue Sharks himself had been humbled. What chance now for this small school of Blue Sharks?

In Durban, the Atlas Lions wandered into a shoal of 80,000 yellow shirted supporters packed into the stadium like sardines. Strange enormous eye glasses, makarapa helmets and vuvuzela horns protruded from the Moese Madhiba reef. It was a cacophony of encouragement for Bafana Bafana. Morocco were not distracted. Issam El Adoua headed Morocco into the lead after 10 minutes. South Africa produced little to reward their support. The half ended with both Morocco and Angola leading and both seemingly set to advance.

The Angolans had not counted on the rich nutrients Cape Verde coach Lúcio Antunes was feeding his substitutes. Djaniny and Héldon were given the coordinates of the Angola goal and quickly swam onto Angola’s sonar screens. White-haired South African coach Gordon Igesund adopted a different approach, preferring to keep things cagey against the Atlas Lions. An early second half goal could have been fatal for Bafana.

South Africa maintained their composure and shape after the interval, but soon began to press forward. After 53 minutes, Phala lifted a free kick into the top corner. It would have been a goal but for an athletic leap from Casablancan Nadir Lamyaghri. South Africa now had to take more risks. The Lions knew this too. Youssef El-Arabi broke clear. Itumeleng Khune narrowed the angles, made himself bigger and saved South Africa, again. Less than 20 minutes remained when May Mahlangu played a neat one-two with Tokelo Rantie and curled a shot into the top corner. An epic goal. Bafana had beaten their devils.

Ten minutes later over in Port Elizabeth a frenzied attack in the Angolan box forced Petro Luanda goalkeeper Lamá to mistime his punch. Fernando Lopes dos Santos Varela to give the goalscorer and his antecedents full credit headed in the loose ball. Cape Verde had equalized and were about to become another of those footballing nations best remembered for not losing a Group game. When Morocco’s Abdelilah Hafidi controlled a cross and fired a shot into Khune’s goal a minute later, the Bafana players could well the imagine reading of the ignominy of their demise in tomorrow’s Natal Witness. Manager Rachid Taoussi kissed the sacred KwaZula Natal ground and all praises were exchanged on the Moroccan bench. South Africa’s players probably did not know so, but a one goal defeat was still enough to send them to Port Elizabeth to face the winners of Group B. Gordon Igesund was having none of it. He had already seen what the Blue Sharks were capable of and swiftly seconded his centre half Siyabonga Sangweni to the forward ranks. In the 86th minute, Sangweni received the ball on the edge of the box. He dipped his shoulder like Socrates and calmly curled in the equalizer. Bafana were the Retro Boys from Brazil. And now it was Morocco’s team bus that was facing a Route 2 trip to Port Elizabeth. The calculus of the group remained in the Lions’ favour despite sharing three points apiece with Cape Verde. But the Blue Sharks were not finished and launched another attack in the 90th minute. Four attackers broke away and although Lamá repelled one attack, the onrushing number 10, Héldon, gave the loose ball a left footed thump of such conviction that his whole body spun around. But Héldon had seen enough to know that his left foot had just won it for his country, and in the slow motion replay a great smile appeared on his face just as the ball reached the very back of the net.

The Blue Sharks had done what they been threatening to do for the best part of the decade. They had reached back to their colonizer and Diaspora, taken some root cuttings and are propagating a proper football team. Cameroon, Angola and Morocco are testimony to the technique. Coach Lúcio Antune sang the ‘Story of a Crioulo’, a traditional song of joy at the post match press conference and dedicated the victory to the people of Cape Verde. Over in Durban coach Gordon Igesund rounded up his players on the pitch for group hug. Later he told the nation that Bafana were only two games away from the final and that he believed in his players.

Songs for the Blue Sharks of Capo Verde (Also Known As African Cup of Nations Playlist N°1)

Today we’re launching our series of Africa Nations Cup playlists — music to get you in the mood for the football, or to drown out the commentator if he’s annoying you during the game. First up it’s Cabo Verde, who have played brilliantly so far and have a huge game today vs Angola (check our team profile here). We kick off with Gilyto aka Mr. Entertainer and his song dedicated to Os Tubarões Azuis (below). It is kind of an official song and captures people’s enthusiasm and affection for the national team. I personally don’t like it much but people do, and it’s catchy and the video’s nicely done. The kids will love it. Plus, with those snippets of local radio commentary, it has the crucial ingredient in any cheesy football tournament song.

The game against Angola today is the Lusophone derby in Afcon 2013. It is likely to be a winner-takes-all match. What better day to listen to the great Cesária Évora’s song “Angola”, all about the friendship between Cape Verdeans and Angolans?

Next up here’s Bida di Gossi with “Os tubarões” and Bulimundo’s “Konpasu Pilon;” both of these songs are about how the difficulties of everyday life affect people’s lives.

Beach football. Table football. Dancing. Finaçon’s “Si Manera” has it all. This song talks about personal freedom and the struggle of the Cape Verdean people.

We couldn’t have a playlist for Cape Verde right now without featuring Mayra Andrade. Here she is, first up “Kaka Barboza”/ “Dimokransa”, and then “Quim di Santiago”/ “Kenha ki ben ki ta bai”.

Finally, two more from Cesária Évora (we couldn’t resist). “Petit Pays”, about our diaspora’s love of and nostalgia for their little homeland. And lastly “Sodade”. In the 1940′s we had a famine and many people were contracted to work in  São Tomé and Príncipe (contracts that were never fulfilled; these people effectively did slave labor). This song is about the nostalgia of those people.

* Amílcar Tavares is a Msc. student in Mechanical Engineering, a former Capeverdean blogger and editor of a website about the Capeverdean national team. Follow his tweets @amilcartavares.

African Cup of Nations Playlist N°1: Cabo Verde. Songs for the Blue Sharks

By Amílcar Tavares*

Today we’re launching our series of Africa Nations Cup playlists — music to get you in the mood for the football, or to drown out the commentator if he’s annoying you during the game.

First up it’s Cabo Verde, who have played brilliantly so far and have a huge game today vs Angola (check our team profile here). We kick off with Gilyto aka Mr. Entertainer and his song dedicated to Os Tubarões Azuis (below). It is kind of an official song and captures people’s enthusiasm and affection for the national team. I personally don’t like it much but people do, and it’s catchy and the video’s nicely done. The kids will love it. Plus, with those snippets of local radio commentary, it has the crucial ingredient in any cheesy football tournament song.

The game against Angola today is the Lusophone derby in Afcon 2013. It is likely to be a winner-takes-all match. What better day to listen to the great Cesária Évora’s song “Angola”, all about the friendship between Cape Verdeans and Angolans?

Next up here’s Bida di Gossi with “Os tubarões” and Bulimundo’s “Konpasu Pilon;” both of these songs are about how the difficulties of everyday life affect people’s lives.

Beach football. Table football. Dancing. Finaçon’s “Si Manera” has it all. This song talks about personal freedom and the struggle of the Cape Verdean people.

We couldn’t have a playlist for Cape Verde right now without featuring Mayra Andrade. Here she is, first up “Kaka Barboza”/ “Dimokransa”, and then “Quim di Santiago”/ “Kenha ki ben ki ta bai”.

Finally, two more from Cesária Évora (we couldn’t resist). “Petit Pays”, about our diaspora’s love of and nostalgia for their little homeland. And lastly “Sodade”. In the 1940′s we had a famine and many people were contracted to work in  São Tomé and Príncipe (contracts that were never fulfilled; these people effectively did slave labor). This song is about the nostalgia of those people.

* Amílcar Tavares is a Msc. student in Mechanical Engineering, a former Capeverdean blogger and editor of a website about the Capeverdean national team. Follow his tweets @amilcartavares.

Weekend Music Break

Once again, demonstrating Azonto’s global reach, the Azonto London Allstars conquer a myriad of urban landscapes with their indefatigable dance moves to the beat of a mix by DJ Sawa. Above. Next, with hair fit for the most flamboyant players in the African Cup of Nations, we’ve got Supremos with their new video for “Namorado Cola”:

Dublin native Rejjie Snow (formerly Lecs Luther) who is reportedly half-Nigerian, has just dropped a new track called “Lost in Empathy”. With a voice oddly like that of Tyler the Creator, Rejjie, dressed in the video as a “far derrig,” spits about the tribulations albinos endure in some countries where their body parts are used as traditional remedies. “Swimming in the ocean, swimming in the ocean, vanilla face, candy floss, limbs in a potion.”

We can’t wait for ngoni legend Bassekou Kouyate’s new record to drop in early March. The record was recorded in Bamako last year just as the country’s political situation began to deteriorate. Here’s a sneak peek of what will be known as “Jama Ko”:

Because we know that fashion is circular, recycling and reimagining styles of the past, this new banging kuduro jam from Angola’s Da Magical proves that it is officially cool again to look like Milli Vanilli:

Here’s one we missed late last year: Gato Preto (Germany via Portugal via Mozambique and Ghana) worked with MC Zulu on “Musica Di Gato Preto” (H/T MTVIggy):

From Harare (“H-Town”, via Berlin), there’s also a new video for Zimbabwean rapper Synik:

And if you were wondering whether the Senegalese Y’en a Marre coalition was still kicking it in Dakar… here’s a 45 minutes concert recently taped at the Place de L’Obélisque, celebrating the movement’s second anniversary. (H/T NomadicWax.) Sound and image recording quality isn’t the best, but you’ll get the message:

Review of new film on heavy metal in Angola

In case you thought kuduro—most recently discussed on this blog here, here, and here—is all that Angola’s music scene has to offer, you were wrong. Although Angolan death metal is nowhere near as popular as the dance and music style kuduro, it has a place in the nation’s fabric. Death metal is no less Angolan (and African) than kuduro, and in dealing with the country’s war-torn past it shapes Angolan identity, much like kuduro does. This is what we learn from Jeremy Xido’s film Death Metal Angola, a beautifully shot film that has already been called a “cult classic,” documenting the hopes and dreams of young Angolans in Huambo, the center of the protracted civil war that ended in 2002, while telling the story of this unlikely subculture. The film premiered at the Dubai International Film Festival last December and will be shown at the Rotterdam Film Festival on January 28 and 29. 

Here’s the trailer:

The film benefits greatly from the close relationship that the New York-based producer and director Jeremy Xido built up to Sonia Ferreira and Wilker Flores, an Angolan couple that runs an orphanage on the outskirts of Huambo. The documentary follows the couple’s efforts to realize their dream to put on Angola’s first rock festival—“a little Woodstock” in Huambo. This gives the film its overall frame. At the film’s core though is the link between Huambo’s violent past and its future, embodied in the moving story of Sonia. A rock fan, she started her orphanage during the war and now takes care of 56 children. Still shots of Huambo’s war ruins and fading murals are interspersed with clips of interviews with Sonia, Wilker, children from the orphanage, and musicians as well as scenes from the orphanage and band rehearsals. While Sonia’s stories and the ruins speak of the human suffering that the town has seen in the past, the orphanage sheds more hopeful light on life in Huambo. The motto “nos somos o futuro”—“we are the future”— is painted on one of its walls. As the movie fades to the credits, the kids put on an air guitar contest for the film crew.

Death metal is a way to deal with the past, as the musicians tell us in passionate statements: “Our music, because it’s aggressive, can talk about the battles that Angola experienced,” a member of the band Before Crush explains. Hardcore provides freedom of expression like no other music style—“it sounds so true, and it’s the truth we’re after,” Sonia states. “It’s a small revolution we are making here.” The music is, however, not only about the past—it is about the things that “continue even today,” another Before Crush member points out. The film treats these current challenges less bluntly than it does past suffering. Her devotion to the death metal culture helped Sonia, who growing up witnessed domestic abuse around her, pursue a life as an independent woman. We also witness the arrival of a young boy who had to flee from his stepmother after the death of his father, and Sonia’s dealing with an orphan’s girlfriend’s unwanted pregnancy. These intimate insights into people’s lives in Huambo make the film much more than a music documentary.

In spite of the positive outlet that death metal provides for the musicians, rock is not yet well accepted among Angolans. For some, we learn, death metal is too “brutal,” so they prefer the upbeat sound and esthetics of kuduro. Kuduro emerged as a “celebration of being alive” and an emphasis on the positive during wartime, while death metal with its guttural screams and dark lyrics confronts mortality. However, Angolan hardcore is probably more “brutal” than the people performing it—and this is what sparked the filmmaker’s interest. While rivalries between the shantytowns in which kuduro is produced are part of kuduro culture, the film portrays the world of Angolan hardcore as one in which only the music and the lyrics count. Style is marginally important, and the bands (seek to) belong to one big family. “Individually we won’t make it,” says the founder of the Angolan Association of Rock and bassist of Instinto Primário, Yuri Almeida.

The festival seeks to change the hesitant attitude towards death metal and promote rock music among Angolans. With limited resources and power outages, the festival finally starts with a five-hour delay and a small audience. TV footage from its second rendition in the year following the filming of the documentary shows, however, what a success story Sonia and Wilker’s efforts turned into. The film convinces with the power of its protagonists, the thoughtful interviews, and stunning shots, and should be watched by anyone interested in current Angola, not only those in music and popular culture.

* You can listen to Christian Frederickson’s official soundtrack of the film here.

Documentary Film Review: “Death Metal Angola”

In case you thought kuduro—most recently discussed on this blog here, here, and here—is all that Angola’s music scene has to offer, you were wrong. Although Angolan death metal is nowhere near as popular as the dance and music style kuduro, it has a place in the nation’s fabric. Death metal is no less Angolan (and African) than kuduro, and in dealing with the country’s war-torn past it shapes Angolan identity, much like kuduro does. This is what we learn from Jeremy Xido’s film Death Metal Angola, a beautifully shot film that has already been called a “cult classic,” documenting the hopes and dreams of young Angolans in Huambo, the center of the protracted civil war that ended in 2002, while telling the story of this unlikely subculture. The film premiered at the Dubai International Film Festival last December and will be shown at the Rotterdam Film Festival on January 28 and 29. 

Here’s the trailer:

The film benefits greatly from the close relationship that the New York-based producer and director Jeremy Xido built up to Sonia Ferreira and Wilker Flores, an Angolan couple that runs an orphanage on the outskirts of Huambo. The documentary follows the couple’s efforts to realize their dream to put on Angola’s first rock festival—“a little Woodstock” in Huambo. This gives the film its overall frame. At the film’s core though is the link between Huambo’s violent past and its future, embodied in the moving story of Sonia. A rock fan, she started her orphanage during the war and now takes care of 56 children. Still shots of Huambo’s war ruins and fading murals are interspersed with clips of interviews with Sonia, Wilker, children from the orphanage, and musicians as well as scenes from the orphanage and band rehearsals. While Sonia’s stories and the ruins speak of the human suffering that the town has seen in the past, the orphanage sheds more hopeful light on life in Huambo. The motto “nos somos o futuro”—“we are the future”— is painted on one of its walls. As the movie fades to the credits, the kids put on an air guitar contest for the film crew.

Death metal is a way to deal with the past, as the musicians tell us in passionate statements: “Our music, because it’s aggressive, can talk about the battles that Angola experienced,” a member of the band Before Crush explains. Hardcore provides freedom of expression like no other music style—“it sounds so true, and it’s the truth we’re after,” Sonia states. “It’s a small revolution we are making here.” The music is, however, not only about the past—it is about the things that “continue even today,” another Before Crush member points out. The film treats these current challenges less bluntly than it does past suffering. Her devotion to the death metal culture helped Sonia, who growing up witnessed domestic abuse around her, pursue a life as an independent woman. We also witness the arrival of a young boy who had to flee from his stepmother after the death of his father, and Sonia’s dealing with an orphan’s girlfriend’s unwanted pregnancy. These intimate insights into people’s lives in Huambo make the film much more than a music documentary.

In spite of the positive outlet that death metal provides for the musicians, rock is not yet well accepted among Angolans. For some, we learn, death metal is too “brutal,” so they prefer the upbeat sound and esthetics of kuduro. Kuduro emerged as a “celebration of being alive” and an emphasis on the positive during wartime, while death metal with its guttural screams and dark lyrics confronts mortality. However, Angolan hardcore is probably more “brutal” than the people performing it—and this is what sparked the filmmaker’s interest. While rivalries between the shantytowns in which kuduro is produced are part of kuduro culture, the film portrays the world of Angolan hardcore as one in which only the music and the lyrics count. Style is marginally important, and the bands (seek to) belong to one big family. “Individually we won’t make it,” says the founder of the Angolan Association of Rock and bassist of Instinto Primário, Yuri Almeida.

The festival seeks to change the hesitant attitude towards death metal and promote rock music among Angolans. With limited resources and power outages, the festival finally starts with a five-hour delay and a small audience. TV footage from its second rendition in the year following the filming of the documentary shows, however, what a success story Sonia and Wilker’s efforts turned into. The film convinces with the power of its protagonists, the thoughtful interviews, and stunning shots, and should be watched by anyone interested in current Angola, not only those in music and popular culture.

* You can listen to Christian Frederickson’s official soundtrack of the film here.

What we learn from day seven of the 2013 African Cup of Nations

That was a duel between Zambia and Nigeria. Two equally matched opponents facing each other in the Mbombela Stadium. Each team intent on gaining that certain satisfaction. The Super Eagles wanted to cut down the Champions. The Chipolopolos needed to show they were Champions. The game had everything. A woeful penalty miss, an historic penalty scored by a goalkeeper and controversial adjudications. Those can easily be described, but this game also had a bit of the neutron collider experiment about it. There were X’s and O’s moving in all sorts of directions, each trying to burst through and establish hegemony. The tension was tight.

So tight, a spectator stripped off and streaked across the pitch. The steel giraffes had seen it all now. Midway though the first half, Davies Nkausu stubbed the heel of gifted Amed Musa. Musa fell gloriously to the ground. It was not simulation, but it was a modern penalty. Obi Mikel pulled rank, stepped up and predictably scuffed the kick tamely wide. The Nigerian Captain was to make amends in the second half. Zambia’s Stoppilla Sunzu moved awkwardly out of his area. The aimless long ball was not his thing, so he slipped a short pass to Chisamba Lungu. The most composed of his team mates was in a pivotal place. What could go wrong? Lungu dribbled away with confidence. Too much confidence. Obi Mikel picked his pocket. Emmanuel Emenike ran on to Obi Mikel’s pass, cut inside, and fired ruthlessly back across the goal and into the net. Nigeria deserved their lead. Zambia were stunned. Three Chipolopolo substitutes were introduced. The salvage operation began. Collins Mbesuma to Mukuka Mulenga to Isaac Chansa to Rainford Kabala. This was the sweetest move. It deserved to be a goal, but Vincent Enyeama was quick and slick and smothered Kabala’s shot. Only five minutes remained when Emmanuel Mayuka got goal side of Eddy Onazi. There seemed little danger. There was a tussle. Mayuka went down. Penalty! It was not a penalty for 180 million Nigerians and millions more neutrals, but the referee saw Onazi briefly hook and trap Mayuka’s arm and that was enough for him. Zambia’s goal keeper Kennedy Mweene placed the penalty high in the top corner, pointed up to the ‘Most High’ and was mobbed by his team mates. It was Mweene’s moment and one of the most memorable in the history of the game. Later in the post match press conference, Mweene nonchalantly admitted to practicing saving and scoring penalties every day.

Photographing Afcon 2013 in Yeoville, Johannesburg

I live in the Western Cape Province, one of South Africa’s nine provinces popularly known as Zillestan (so named for the leader of the opposition party governing the province). This particular fortress’ set-up–residential apartheid remains largely in practice–makes it almost impossible to feel that one is part of a bigger whole, i.e. South Africa. (In fact, Premier Helen Zille has on occasion referred to people moving to the province from other parts of South Africa as “refugees.”) So on a recent trip to Johannesburg (which is in Gauteng Province), a couple of friends decided to invade a Congolese restaurant in Yeoville; Kin Malebo on 31 Raleigh Street in Yeoville. The game was between DR Congo and Niger; I had access to a camera and decided to tag along. Good times were had by all.

The spirit of Afcon 2013 is infectious in the streets of Jozi, especially in the inner city where nationalities of all kinds from distant reaches of the African continent can be seen donning their respective countries’ national colours. In fact, I wrote something about the inner city and Afcon here. The final score for the DRC vs. Niger match was 0-0.

The story about the daughter of Angola’s longtime president being Africa’s “first woman billionaire”

BREAKING NEWS: The 40-year-old businesswoman daughter of Angola’s long-serving president is rich.

This week the Twittersphere has gone mad over an article published by Forbes claiming that their “research” has uncovered the fact that 40-year-old Isabel Dos Santos is Africa’s “First Woman Billionaire.” The story was picked up by AFP (and hence a number of online news sites around the word, like this South African one), the BBC, and of course the British Daily Mail and many more besides. The relish with which the story was tweeted and shared on Facebook came as some surprise to anyone with a vague knowledge of Angola or Portugal, where media has been reporting Isabel’s extensive wealth for over five years. On the latter, check here and here. There has been a fair amount written about the Princess, as she’s not very affectionately known to Angolans, in the English-speaking press too; here and here are two examples from South Africa’s Mail & Guardian. But obviously, the words billionaire, woman and Africa have formed such a tasty cocktail and induced sudden memory loss among even the usually well-informed.

The Forbes article is written by San Francisco-based Senior Forbes Editor Kerry Dolan.

Dolan lists some of 40-year-old Isabel’s shareholdings in Portugal (though not all of them, not her Mozambican or Cape Verdean interests) and says that Forbes research reveals that the combination of those stakes, plus assets she holds in “at least one bank in Angola” have “pushed her net worth over the US$1billion mark.”

This, the article says, with some authority, makes Isabel “Africa’s first woman billionaire”. (Strange use of “woman” rather than “female”, by the way. Would you say “Africa’s first man billionaire, or do we assume all African billionaires are men, unless otherwise indicated?)

No sums are presented to us so we must just trust Forbes’ mathematics, even if the magazine’s own profile of Isabel from November 2012 has her value listed at US$500million.

I wonder if the fact she appears to have acquired US$500million in three months should not be the headline, or indeed the fact that in February 2011, when she was listed among “Africa’s Richest Women” by her wealth was only “at least US$50million.”

Dolan presents us with a short a biography of Isabel (which is rather similar to that November 2012 profile entry) explaining her Azeri mother (from when her father was studying in Baku, then part of the USSR, in the 1970s) and her degree at Kings College London.

The piece sadly omits to mention that she was educated at St Paul’s Girls School in London, and so misses the rather delicious paradox that while her father, Jose Eduardo, was fighting a proxy cold war backed by Cuba and the USSR, his firstborn was rubbing shoulders with the daughters of his Western enemies.

Clearly struggling a bit for Angolan context (the civil war at first described as 22 years-long until a helpful website comment corrects it to 27), Dolan turns to Peter Lewis, Associate Professor and Director of the African Studies Program, at John Hopkins University in Washington.

We are told that Dr Lewis “did not review the information about Isabel dos Santos’ holding” and “did not know the specifics of Dos Santos’ wealth” but that he does say that it was “clear through documented work that the ruling party and the President’s inner circle have a lot of business interests.”

He was probably referring to reports by Angolan journalist and anti-corruption campaign Rafael Marques de Morais who runs a website called Maka Angola dedicated to exposing and detailing Angolan graft. Or to the work by University of Oxford Lecturer Ricardo Soares de Oliveira; or Paula Roque; and the many other academics and writers and think tanks such as Global Witness, Human Rights Watch, Open Society Initiative for Southern Africa and Chatham House who have all published extensively about corruption in Angola and who may have been better experts to consult in this instance.

Despite his unfamiliarity with Isabel, Dr Lewis does make the important observation, at least, that in Angola the President is linked to many business interests and you cannot trace the “provenance of these funds.” Dolan promises that “Forbes aims to delve into where she got the funds to buy the stakes in those companies” and find out how she got so rich.

We will wait to see what she uncovers, though you could just read about it first on Maka Angola in the mean time.

The insinuation that her money may not be as shiny as the logos of the banks she co-owns did not impress Isabel’s “spokesperson” who does not respond to a request for comment on the businesswoman’s net worth. The same (we assume) spokesperson (no name given) does however say: “The professor’s statements are speculative, unreasonable and without academic merit” and that “Dos Santos’ investments have been presented with maximum transparency from publicly listed companies based on European law.”

One reader, Aty Adejo, had some questions. He called Dolan on her story, saying: “I assumed your lists of wealthiest individuals reflected money made through legitimate means; not those of despots, dictators, tyrants & criminals or their associates.”

Dolan defends quickly to say: “Good question. Forbes chooses to exclude from our list of the World’s Billionaires wealth that comes by virtue of royal position (e.g., the Queen of England, the King of Saudi Arabia and the Emir of Qatar). Forbes does not claim that all the fortunes of the billionaires on our list were earned legitimately, though most of them are legitimate.”

Given that many see President Dos Santos, Africa’s second-longest serving leader in power since 1979, as a monarch whose family and inner circle run the country like their personal ATM — this defence may not stand.

Dolan further states her case: “The issue with former African dictators — none of whom have appeared on the Forbes Billionaires List — has always been the lack of documentation of their wealth. If money is stashed in private Swiss bank accounts, Forbes cannot verify how much is there. In Isabel dos Santos’ case, her holdings are publicly documented.”

It is true that the Princess does have a large amount of money in Portugal, where the stock exchange and financial regulations demand an amount of transparency, and so we can measure some of her wealth. But details about her investments in Angola, which include diamonds (with links to notorious Israeli gem magnates Lev Leviev and Arcadi Gaydamak), real estate and retail, are a little less forthcoming.

There is some irony that this successful businesswoman began her climb up the career ladder by (figuratively) sweeping the streets of Luanda (when her company won a tender to collect rubbish in the Angolan capital) though the question of how she won that tender, and all the others since, of course remains unanswered.

Talking about Isabel and her Portuguese investments usually sparks the now slightly-hackneyed “reverse colonization” debate — which I disclose I have written about on several occasions; see here and here for example.

Dolan didn’t go there, but perhaps she’ll find out about that side to the story (that cash-strapped Portugal isn’t so fussy these days about where its money comes from) when she “delves” deeper into Isabel’s fortune.

The 2011 report by the Portuguese Institute of International Relations and Security (IPRIS) for the South Africa Institute for International Affairs (SAIIA) is a good starting place for anyone who’s interested in learning more about the Angola / Portugal dynamic.

Perhaps I’m just a bitter and twisted hack who’s jealous that my stories about Angola don’t get as many hits or reach as many people. But I am slightly struggling to understand the outpouring of love for this story.

One of Dolan’s Forbes’ colleagues tweeted “Great Story”, another tweeted “Great Scoop”. Really?

What’s clear is that the image of a rich, black, beautiful, woman billionaire from a once war-torn country where they speak a strange language (i.e. not English) struck a chord with news editors — especially seeing as it comes with a Forbes stamp of accuracy.

Forbes, the magazine-cum-website-cum-brand that makes its name from compiling lists of rich people, and then sub-dividing those lists by country, race, sex, industry, etcetera.

Forbes, the magazine-cum-website-cum-brand which last year published the “20 youngest power women in Africa” in which was named the 2012 Miss Universe, Angolan Leila Lopes. The author of this very important list (what is a “youngest power woman”?) is Nigerian-born Mfonobong Nsehe who has also brought us: ‘The Five Richest Pastors In Nigeria,’ ‘The Black Billionaires,’ ‘African Millionaires To Watch’ and ‘Ten Young African Millionaires To Watch.’ Earlier this month he enlightened us with a report about how Africa’s richest man, Aliko Dangote, “had just taken delivery of a new luxury yacht.” Nsehe writes: “At the moment, very little is known about the yacht — who built it, how much it cost or even just how big it is.”

I should probably lighten up a bit, I know. But it saddens me that so much energy (and internet bandwidth) is dedicated to this piffle, at the cost of real African stories.

Isabel Dos Santos may well be a very shrewd businesswoman — I am told she is — as too I am sure are her brothers (Zenú and Corean Dú) and sister (Tchizé) who are also endowed with amazing jobs and growing fortunes.

Angola has come such a long way since the end of its horrible long war, but I refuse to swallow this PR lie that it’s Africa’s big success story.

I don’t begrudge people getting rich and doing well. Why shouldn’t Africa have billionaires like the rest of the world? But sometimes this obsession to fulfil the “Africa Rising” prophecy blinds us to the real issues.

And in the case of Isabel, I think celebrating her wealth as this Forbes label does is an insult to the two thirds of Angolans who live in poverty. When I look at Isabel and Dos Santos Inc and see all that money, all I can think of are the suffering Angolans who will never have the chances they have had and for whom water, electricity and sanitation are luxuries.

* Louise Redvers is a British journalist who lived in Angola from 2008-2010 reporting for the BBC and AFP. She is now based in Johannesburg but returns to Angola regularly and has written about the country for a range of international publications including the Mail and Guardian, The Guardian, The Economist, AFP, BBC, Monocle, The Economist Intelligence Unit, The Africa Report and Africa Confidential. She tweets all things Angolan @LouiseRedvers.