The Khartoum Run
Trip Start
Apr 08, 2003
1
10
14
Trip End
Aug 2003
Khartoum,
Sudan
Tuesday, July 1, 2003
I had been like a kid waiting for xmas all night. I'd wake up and check my watch, disappointed that it wasn't time to get up. Every hour I'd do the same until finally I rolled up my bedmat from its place on the floor and packed up my bag.
There were no dramas on the bus this time. It was uneventful and pleasant journey from the edge of the cold, rainy highlands down into the hot, humid lowlands.
We got off in a small village called Shady. From there it was 40kms more to the border town of Metema on a banged up old school bus.
About 10kms out of Shady a tire blew out. The replacement didn't look much better with huge chunks of rubber gouged out of it. We looked at each other worriedly and I began to calculate how long it would take to walk the last 30kms with our bags if we lost another tyre.
It was worrying for nothing and an hour later we rattled loudly into the grass hut lined mud track of Metema.
We had a few hours to spare before the border closed so we sat down to a few farewell from Ethiopia beers.
Sudan is governed under Islamic Sharia law which forbids the consumption of alcohol. Due to this alcohol is illegal and almost unattainable (supposedly its easy to get local moonshine but I don't really want to go blind from methanol poisoning anytime soon).
After our last beer until Egypt we walked across the bridge over a dry riverbed which marked the border of Sudan. With a smile I remembered reading about how, in WW2, Thessiger used to fire his machine gun every morning over the border at the Italians to wake them up.
Everyone was estatic to have finally made it. With big grins on our scraggly beard-covered faces we said "ciao, ciao" to Ethiopia and a hearty "Salam alekum" to the Republic of the Sudan.
From the border town of Galabat we jumped in the back of a little Toyota Hilux ute and headed to the nearest main town of Gedaref.
We could see the day's rain clouds pouring off the Ethiopian highlands like a dark horde. In front of us opposing storm clouds hung broodingly low over Gedaref.
The Toyota flew along the asphalt road. The sun began to disappear amd for 30 minutes the world was lit up by an ethereal light which made everyone stop chatting in the back of the ute and just stare in wonder.
The sky was lit up a pure aquamarine blue, incongruous with evening, while the air around us seemed to shift in a green haze. The acacia forest lining the savannah around us melted from brown to red and back again.
On the horizon, huge demented arrows of lightning danced down from the mountains, creating a kaliedescope of electric residue on our retinas.
The rain began, hitting us at a 45 degree angle thanks to the howling gale accompanying it. The sky was dark by now and the lightning increased in intensity.
We huddled up against the cold. Rob had my jacket as the rain was coming through the tarp behind him. I was wrapped in my rucksack cover, bracing it to create an angle for the water to run off.
Most of the ride we spent veiled in darkness, unable to see if our feet and legs were entwined or being crushed by another person, bottles of illegal alcohol or sacks of grain.
Until the lightning blasted above; sometimes in the distance, shedding a white glow momentarily on the ghost-like faces hidden under the truck's tarpaulain; sometimes only what seemed to be meters away, tearing us from inpenetrable night to preternatural kodak-flash daylight.
It was like being in WW2 movie.
This feeling increased as we were stopped at army checkpoints time and time again. We'd all pile out of the back of the ute into the mud, squash into a grass hut to shelter from the storm, show our passports and have our details recorded before jumping back in the ute and tearing off again into the darkness.
We stopped for dinner around 9pm. Unfortunately we had no local currency. We'd changed some money at the border but had used it all paying for our police registration at immigration.
Cold and hungry we moped outside until a young man, named Hussam, from our ride came up to us. He spoke fluent english and had already helped us communicate with the soldiers at some of the checkpoints.
He sat us down and bought a big bowl of fuul (spicy, mashed fava beans) and cups of peppermint tea for us.
Sated and happy we continued to Gedaref and pulled into town at 1am.
As we drove along the empty streets we suddenly skidded to a stop. The driver guided the truck over to the curb and a soldier appeared and motioned us out of the back.
A brand new 4x4 pulled up and two well fed Sudanese men in the full white galabiyaa (white robes or "man dress" as the guys call it) and white turban got out. They were high ranking officers in the town.
They inspected our passports in the lights of their car and fired questions at us.
While this was going on I was able to see why we had came to such an abrupt stop.
The checkpoint was placed at a T-junction. As a car approached, a soldier in the middle of the road would train his Ak-47 on the front window and scream at the car to stop.
By the way the local taxi drivers were slamming on their anchors, I got the impression that a few people had got shot by not stopping in time.
While the first soldier waited with his rifle ready, a second, also armed, approached the driver. He checked his papers and if he wanted to check anything in more detail he'd motion the car to the side of road.
The first couple of times I got a fright as the soldier only about 3 meters away began yelling. Once I figured out what was going on it was actually quite humourous to watch these terrified drivers almost putting their cars sideways to stop in time.
I wondered what would happen if a tourist driver came through. If a guy just jumped out on the road with a machine gun in front of a Westerner they may panic thinking it was a bandit and run him down. Scary thought.
We finally got to a hotel at almost 2am.
As we had no money, Hussam kindly paid for our room and told us we could pay him back in Khartoum the next day. We tried to change money with the hotel manager but Hussam wouldn't let us as the manager was trying to cheat us on the exchange rate.
We slept a couple of hours and were up at 6am to catch the bus to Khartoum. The bus was leaving an hour later than we'd left from Ethiopia the previous morning but that hour is a big difference early in the morning.
The bus as was a dream. It was a local bus: that meant a slightly beat up European style long distance bus. It was 50 times better than the best bus we'd taken in Ethiopia. And the Sudanese don't have an irrational fear of opening a bus's windows.
In Khartoum, Hussam took us to his uncle's house for lunch. The house was a nice place in a suburb on the edge of town. His uncle is a high ranking officer and lives in a restricted military area near the airport.
According to Hussam, Osama bin Laden lived just around the corner before he was kicked out of Sudan by the government in 1995. This got a few laughs and lame jokes out of the boys.
We ate like kings. It was the best meal I've had in Africa by a long shot. After Ethiopia's meat-only diet it was a welcome relief. Strange concepts such as salad and cooked vegetables are commonly embraced in Sudan.
We eventually headed into the central city and got settled in a hotel. We changed some money and paid Hussam back: he'd leant us over $50US and didn't even know us until yesterday evening. He'd really made our lives easier.
We found a dirt cheap hotel the next morning ($1.50US) and moved in. After Ethiopia, coming to Sudan was like going back to Europe. Even in our little mud-wall and cracked-concrete dive we had power AND water at the same time, something which never happened in Ethiopia.
Travelling in the north of Ethiopia, the water shortages had cut my showering back to once a week if I was lucky. The lads had nicknamed me Nik the Neck due to my filthy, dirt-ingrained neck.
Now I was showering 2-3 times a day. Magic!!! And you need to too - its hot as hell here.
The heat is probably the stand out feature of Sudan. We met some Sudanese guys at a cafe and got chatting.
"How hot do you think it was today?" said Steve to Mustafa, one of the Sudanese guys.
"Oh, today is not hot," said Mustafa.
"How many degrees do you think?"
"Hmm, maybe 38 or 39 degrees, thats all."
Yesterday it topped well over 40 and the same guys still maintain that we're having cool weather at the moment. Go figure.
The heat has made me throw out all the travelling rules towards water and food: Drink bottled water, don't drink anything with ice in it, don't eat ice cream as it may be off.
I've been slurping down the tap water for the past 5 days and haven't had a problem. And the fruit juice here is magic - it almost, almost makes up for the lack of beer. As for the ice cream, I haven't had it for over 3 months so just couldn't resist a sugar hit.
Khartoum itself is fantastic.
The city is very spead out and is quite modern. There is much fewer colonial buildings than I expected.
The streets are a melting pot of different cultures. You have the Southern Sudanese who are true Africans with very dark skin and often decorated with tribal scarring on their faces. There are the North Africans who are a mix of the Middle East and Africa with much lighter skin and who are usually dressed in galabiyaas and turbans. And there are the Arabs who look almost white next to their African countrymen.
The sharia law is not as oppresive as I expected. Many women do not wear a head scarf and when they do the African influence is wonderfully apparent in the vibrant, swirling colours. I've seen hardly any women wearing the full black veil with only their eyes visible.
The atmosphere of the city is definately leaning towards the middle east. Signs in Arabic clutter the area at eye level, minarets poke out above half finished apartment blocks, the smell of incense and spices flow out onto the street from the markets, little shops have vats of oil cooking falafels and sand blown in from the desert lines the edges of the streets.
And then there's Omdurman just across the Nile. It was built by the Mahdi last century to offer an alternative to Khartoum which had been Anglicised by the British colonisers. Omdurman is a whole different vibe again from Khartoum.
We're leaving tomorrow morning to go on an adventure and I'm a little sad to be leaving Khartoum so soon. I will be back here in about a week or so though, which makes it a little easier.
I'll post again when I get back. Until then: Ma'a salaama.
