Had a bit of a restless nights sleep last night, woke up about 3:30 in the morning, it was so hot, got up and turned the air conditioning on (the single prop airplane). Went back to sleep, woke up at 4:30 the noise was really annoying, turned off the single prop airplane. Woke up at 5:30, really hot, turned on the… you get the picture. So when it was time to finally stir myself from slumber I decided it would be a good idea to try the shaving without the blade holder, on the whole I was quite happy with the results, I only had about 15 pieces of tissue paper stuck to my neck and that was a bit of result in my eyes.
Anyway into the office and it was time to generate some statistical reports for resettlements for refugees. I spent most of the morning doing this apart from the odd coffee break and then came lunch. I headed out with Carlo again and took the camera. We walked about half a mile to get some dollars changed for lunchtime, there is a supermarket of sorts which will change dollars happily. The surprise was that the supermarket had large “Happy Christmas” signs outside the door and when I got inside it was like walking into an Arabic Santa’s grotto, all that was missing was the elves shouting “da plane, da plane”, oops no that was Fantasy Island (A show from the 80’s for those too young to remember or too intellectual). We got the money and headed to the Turkish café, when we arrived, they recognised us as familiar faces and escorted us to our usual table. As they were familiar with us I asked immediately if I could take some pictures of the kitchens while guys were cooking. After a brief discussion with the manager the waiter came back saying of “course of course”. We ordered Eskandar which was unleavened bread with chicken on top, tomatoes, cucumber and what I hope was Greek yoghurt. Throughout the meal I was sneaking up on the people cooking and taking the odd snap so as not to disturb them and just catch them in action. It was pretty fun, again got lots of smiles, laughter and thumbs up when taking the pictures and showing them the shot afterwards.
Carlo and I sat there discussing the reports and how best to produce these when I heard a voice behind me. I wasn’t sure whether the person behind me was speaking to me or not, turned around and there was a blind elderly Arabic man, complete with Kaftan and two children (I’m guessing 6 and 8 years old), I couldn’t understand what he was saying but the outstretched hand was an international sign that I think we all recognise. I looked at Carlo and he just shrugged, I guess gesturing do what you want to do? The children were wearing old sports clothes, dirty from all the sand and dust that blows through Khartoum. Their faces were dirty and unwashed and their feet, the skin was visibly cracking where around the sides of the soles. I turned back to Carlo and shrugged back at him whilst putting my hand in my pocket, I pulled out the local currency that I had just changed and gave them what I estimated would give them 3 meals each, that’d be a good days food. Obviously the old man couldn’t see how much I had given but the little boy receiving the money was completely ecstatic, what was a forlorn face before lit up with a beaming smile. I have no idea what the two boys were now saying to the elder, but he in turn started to smile and I assume thank me. I nodded and smiled in appreciation of their thanks and turned back to Carlo and we continued our conversation, while we were talking the three were walking further up the road, the two boys with a spring in their step and the younger of the two kept turning, beaming and waving. That made my day, its nice to give money to your favourite charity and know that after the “awareness marketing” and the costs of running the charity some of the money will make it to the people in need. But when you hand it straight to the source, and you see the happiness that’s generated, yup, yup that’s a winner. But… then it started me thinking, why is it that sometimes I will give to people on the streets in the UK and sometimes I don’t, well the only answer I could come up with was that here in Khartoum, you know the situation for a vast number of the population is dire and it’s a worthy cause, it’s a dry country (apart from “Special Tea”) and the money you give will go towards making life better and not buying an extra can of Special Brew. I don’t know, more self analysis, blah, blah, blah…
We headed back to the offices after lunch and I continued work on the stats reports, and Carlo went back to training the people from Shuwak. I called into Hiroko’s office to check how Claas had got on as I hadn’t seen him in the office all day. As it turned out he had managed to get a 6:30 flight to Darfur this morning with WFO. I was then introduced to Mimi, she had returned from Darfur on the same flight that Claas had taken out there. We had a brief chat about how things were going in the region and it appears that things are settling down, the tension in the region seems to be abating and whereas there hasn’t been a formal cease fire, things are quieter. Although things on the war front appear to be better there are still resource issues in the region due to the high security risks and more is needed. Due to its remote location the only viable method of transport is by air and they just can’t keep the food coming in quickly enough. From what I could gather Mimi had been in Darfur for some time and she was happy to be back in civilisation, but as she said “it was all a bit overwhelming being back in Khartoum”. If I hear any more about the Darfur situation I will let you all know, let’s just hope that things are settling down for good so that the more food and water can be shipped in safety.
Around 3:30 Carlo broke from the training and we went for coffee, he said, “Hey, do you fancy going to Shuwak?”, “man I thought we weren’t going?”, as it turned out, there was a feeling of discomfort in doing an installation remotely and letting them take the machine back to Shuwak without completing the installation was not considered to be a good thing. I couldn’t have been happier, so at 4:00am on Sunday we are going to be heading down there and coming back on Monday or Tuesday evening. I am so looking forward to getting out of the city, it’s going to be a long journey through the desert, but I am really looking forward to it. Although I am looking forward to the trip, I think this is going to even more of an eye opener than Khartoum has been.
No sooner had we finished that conversation he said “Hey Paul, What are you doing tonight?”, “the same as usual, back to the hotel, have some food and write up the next edition of bloggerama”. Carlo replied “Want to go to a wedding tonight?”… “WHAT?” (big smile), apparently one of the guys in the office, his sister had got married today and we were invited to the evening bash, wow, going to the best part of any wedding in my opinion, hmmm would there be special tea?
Carlo completed the training for the day and started building the server that customs had finally released and I continued with the reports. The end of the day came and we headed out to get a driver to take us back to the hotel at around 6:40. As usual the duty driver was out and would be back “soon”, as I have learnt, “soon” can literally mean hours in Sudan, the clocks here don’t work like they do in the west (which isn’t a bad thing in my opinion). Evening prayer had begun 20 minutes ago and this normally leaves the roads light on the cab driver front (I guess they are praying that they won’t crash the next day, more on driving and being a pedestrian in Khartoum below). There were quite a few Tuk Tuk’s around at this time and we hailed one down, we asked “Al Faisel Hotel”, he looked at us quizzically, we then said “Meridian” (doing our best Arabic accents possible to make it easier to understand) and still a quizzical look, so we gestured no thank you. We can only that the next things he said were an insult of some sort, by tone and inflection of the words. Carlo said “I’m sure I heard the word for mother in their somewhere” I said “yeah, I don’t know Arabic, but I bet there was either Donkey or Goat as well”. So we hailed the next Tuk Tuk to come along, the same thing again, it took two more Tuk Tuk’s before we found someone who knew how to get around Khartoum or at least to the Meridian and we could direct him from there. We were wondering whether we would make it back to a hotel that has no street name, actually, there are no street names, only the major roads have names, makes it quite difficult when you have to explain where something is and you don’t speak the local language, but that is our fault and not theirs. Abdul Bassit was coming to pick us up at 8:00, so we agreed we should meet in the lobby at around 8:30, we had coffee and he turned up at nine, perfectly on time…
On the drive to the Wedding the streets took on a different form in the evening, again the majority aren’t lit and the route to the venue was a bumpy one, I was really quite excited and had no idea what to expect. As we arrived the entire street was being managed by a group of men assisting in finding parking spaces for a small fee, we happily paid and found a space in seconds and they would keep an eye on the car for us. We were parked outside a large courtyard with fairy lights all around the outside, at the gates to the entrance there was a man in military uniform allowing entry to guests only, there were a handful of young children, reminiscent of the ones from earlier in the day obviously looking to get in, but they weren’t on the guest list. I was camera in hand and ready to ask whether it would be ok to take pictures or not. I wondered in and the sight that greeted me was just amazing, there were round tables 7 across and 8 deep with 8-10 people per table. But they were all women, not a single man in sight, it was just a wash of beautiful and brightly coloured Sari’s, after seeing such sombre colours throughout the day with the odd splash of colour, there couldn’t be more of a visual feast, it was the complete opposite to the average daily dress. So, we were escorted across to the Father of the Bride and he greeted us all with such warmth, you could just see the joy of the day beaming out of him. He shook our hands thanked us for coming to the wedding, of course there was no need, but I knew how important it was to him that I was there. We were guided to a table, up to our shoulders in sea of colours. Then proceeded to shake the hands of every person we would pass, the warmth was overwhelming, I couldn’t do anything but smile (I have to say that after a while I felt like “Mr Shakey Hands Man”). We got to a table towards the rear of the throng and realised where all the men were, at the back, sat in rows of chairs while the women were sat at tables. This was obviously an event more for the women, the men were just there for the “Special Tea” I guess, not far from the customs in the UK. As we approached a table of ladies in their 20’s we were introduced to each on in turn, they all stood and shook our hands, something was said in Arabic and the just gave us their table, I felt so bad, we had ousted them without intention, but they insisted on us sitting.
The father of the bride had not stopped doing the rounds at each of the tables, his walking cane in hand. He seemed to be checking whether people were having a good time (I assumed). A band had started playing Arabic music in the background and it definitely added to the atmosphere. After the father of the bride had been around the tables and made his way back towards us, I took the opportunity to ask him (yup you guessed), “Would it be ok if I took some pictures?”, “Of course, of course”… So I started snapping, I wasn’t the official photographer and didn’t want to get in peoples faces so I just sat there snapping away and chatting to the guys on the table. 15 minutes had past, food had been delivered to what I can only estimate as 700+ guests, I saw the father of the bride moving back towards me. I wanted to take the opportunity to thank him again for his hospitality, I just had this beaming smile on my face from energy coming from everyone around us. Before I could thank him again, he leaned towards me and said, “This my friend is a traditional Sudanese folk song, isn’t it beautiful?”, “Yes, I do like it.”, he then replied “Please come with me” and took my hand, I just looked around everyone was just shrugging their shoulders and smiling. The next thing I knew, he was taking me up to the dance floor, I thought to myself, he knows I like the band, he’s taking me up to take pictures of them, that’s nice of him. But no, as we got to the edge, he put his hand on my shoulder and I followed suit and put mine on his, then onto the empty dance floor… I just thought to myself what the hell, you only live once… So with 700+ people looking on I attempted to dance to the music with the father of the bride and damn it, it was so much fun, I was just laughing so hard. I pretty much followed what he did, it was hands in the air kind of thing with a lot of finger clicking going on, I was going to start the shrieking thing, but decided against it… then others stood up and came to join us. As I have always said that the party doesn’t start until I arrive… and this only goes to confirm it! At this point, I have to say, the immense feeling of happiness and joy was intoxicating, I had a perma-grin on my face, it was just great… As more people came to dance, I stepped back and just started opening the shutter at the people on the dance floor.
After that song, the music stopped and everyone returned to their seats, in between me chuckling to myself about how the evening had unfolded, I asked if this was when the Bride and Groom arrived? I was then told that the bride would be arriving with “a friend”, he was the “proxy groom”?!?! I responded with “the what?” and was told how this worked. Apparently the groom was in Katar and it was quite common to marry by proxy, although I didn’t investigate why, I was still kinda thinking about the whole thing, then the bride would be then “shipped to Katar” (DHL maybe?), while this was sinking in the music started up with a familiar tune, “Here comes the bride” or whatever its called, you know the one at all weddings, but this time it had an Arabic break beat behind it, I much preferred this version I have to say. The bride and “groom” were lead across the stage with her bridesmaids throwing petals at her feet, with her father in tow behind, looking proudly on at the “happy couple”, there were fire crackers being let off in front of them as they walked towards the love seat at the left of the stage, it was a great spectacle. A queue formed of “well wishers”, which I have to say was a little strange, I guess the “proxy groom” would forward all messages to the groom. So I thought to myself about the wedding night… nope, I’ll keep that thought to myself. Anyway, the “well wishing” stopped and the music started again, there were no emotional speeches, no thanking of bridesmaids, mums, dads, caterers and the captain birds eye for bringing them together (a mutual love of fish fingers or something). They just got up and danced, lots of dancing, smiling and laughter, wow what a night…
Thought for the day
I look at my surroundings in this 3rd world country, its poverty stricken, with hundreds of derelict, damaged and unfinished buildings, very poor standards of living and a lifestyle that is so abstract to the one that you and I are accustomed to, but this is normal life for the people here, but tonight was a truly joyous night, as I have said so many times in this blog, “completely overwhelming”. When I say “this is normal life” that isn’t to say that the situation shouldn’t improve all people in 3rd world countries and poverty stricken area’s of rest of the world, it should, that is why so many individuals and governments give to organisations such as UNHCR, Oxfam, Save the Children etc to help them improve living conditions for all. But from what I have seen here, the people of Sudan do the best they can with what they have. They don’t feel the need or have the means to “feel better” through “retail therapy”, they can’t book holidays to travel across world and see what is “here” or “there” (every Sudanese person I have spoken to outside of UNHCR has never left Sudanese soil), embargoes still rest upon Sudan and further inhibit the development of the country (I’ll fill that in later). But… they do live life to the fullest with what they have available to them… no single culture is perfect before someone starts to beat down on me, I’m not saying that, we all have our flaws, but we can learn from each other and find balance in our own lives…
In that last paragraph I nearly burst into the chorus of “We are the World” by Michael Jackson, luckily I realised just in time how much I think I really hated that song… Well, although it’s completely layered in pop cheese, I suppose in the sentiment there is something of appeal? Anyway enough of my preaching’s, just wanted add a “Thought for the day”…
Enough
Ok, I think that was the longest blog so far (nearly 4000 words, although I have noticed I am very wordy), sorry but I had a lot to say. Again this is a brain dump, I need sleep and its 3:00am already, sorry for bad English, spelling mistakes, misappropriated opinions, poor sense of humour and anything else you find you don’t like… I’m going to stop saying that now, just assume that I am saying that at the end of every edition of the bloggerama.
Notes:
Driving in Khartoum:
There is no such thing as driving on the right hand side of the road, all sides of the road are equal. If the road is 4 cars wide and the car coming in the other direction is not too close, then you can create another lane on the other side of the road, inshallah.
Red lights are “advisory”, they don’t mean stop, they mean do what you want, everything will be fine, inshallah.
The car’s horn is to be used only under the following circumstances:
· Letting someone know that they have crossed into your lane.
· Letting someone know you are about cross into their lane.
· Letting someone know they are driving the wrong way up a one way street.
· Cab drivers: Getting the attention of potential customers.
· Saying hi to a friend or someone you would like to be your friend
· Encouraging a goat to get out of the road.
One Way Streets will not be sign posted, nor will you have any indication that you are on one until you hear horns beeping at you.
Being a pedestrian in Khartoum:
Carlo and I have developed a routine for crossing the roads. If you wait for a car to slow down for you and make eye contact with them, they will assume that you have seen them and that you are not going to move. The best way to cross the road is just to walk out in the middle of traffic, the cars will swerve around you and make space for you to get to the other side. Carlo and I used the keyword “Commit”, once the word is said, we stop looking left and right and just walk out, so far this has been quite a successful strategy, I will update you if there are any changes to this.
PS: I have lots of opinions about… hmmm I’m going to use the collective of “stuff”, but I don’t want to use bloggerama as a pulpit to try and push opinions… I’m just talking about “stuff”. I hope that I am giving you some sort of window into this world, there are so many things happening I’m just not able to get it all down, one day I may release the unabridged version of the bloggerama. But I do hope that you’re enjoying reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it… g’night…