I agreed with Carlo last night that we should get an early start in the morning so we ca make an early start on the work before we set off. When we left last night we still hadn’t received our security clearance so we wouldn’t be leaving at the advertised time of 8:30 anyway. I woke at 6:00 still tired from the night before (working on reports until 2:00am and figured I would wait until Carlo called me. I closed my eyes and no sooner had I done that when the phone rang, it was Carlo. I looked at my watch and it was 7:15. Hmmm it was one of those “5 more minutes” moments that turn into 75 minutes. Carlo had just woken up as well, we had both overslept. In record time we met for breakfast at 7:30 and shovelled a 3 egg omelette and 2 cups of Nescafe into our faces. 7:45 we headed out to get the taxi…
Ooops, gonna stop right there and back track a little. The whole 2:00 am thing, I was planning to go to bed at around 1:00 am as we had an early start the next day. Just as I was going to sleep, a new smell greeted me in my room. It was a solvent of some sort, really quite strong and it gave me an instant headache. I had no idea where this had come from but put my head outside the door, the intensity of the smell was overpowering at this point. There was a man on the landing, I asked what he was doing, he just lifted a container to show me and said something in Arabic. He was pouring the container into opening which looked like the drainage for the floor. From this I assumed one of two things, they had either decided to kill all the guests on the floor for complaining about the smell or were attempting to rectify it by replacing it with another smell. Either way the previous smell was far more acceptable, at least it didn’t cause a headache. So this headache kept me up for an hour until I eventually passed out…
Back on track, we arrived at the office at 8:00ish and Abdul Bassit was already there, we had a few things to do before we left, the driver, Mansul, was sat outside and we needed to get the security papers, then we could depart. The security papers are the most important thing, this means that we are then covered by the UNHCR insurance policy, I’m not sure exactly what that means, but it’s important.
At 10:15 the security papers finally arrived, we headed out towards the jeep and it was time to depart. We need to make sure that we stayed on track in terms of time for the journey for two reasons. Firstly we had a stack of work to do in one day at the Shuwak sub station. Secondly travelling east towards Shuwak after dark is against the law and so we had a physical time limit of around 6:30 for getting through the last checkpoint.
We headed South out of Khartoum along one of the only main roads in the city. I had already been given the directions to Shuwak, so I had an idea what the journey would be like.
Head South out of Khartoum for 70km, take a left then straight for 330km.
The entire of the journey from beginning to end just flew by, I was just so absorbed in what was happening all around me. As we continued to drive further away from the city the environment was changing around us quite rapidly. There were large fields which ran off onto the horizon, these would be flooded when the rainy season came and would then be covered with greenery shortly after it passed. At the moment the view was nothing but dust, dead crops (it is winter and very dry at the moment) and the occasional tree, but not very many. I asked what it was like in the rainy season, Mansul replied “Oh the rainy season brings many things” I thought to myself, what a nice and simple way of describing new life being brought by the rains… Then he continued, “donkeys, dogs, goats all of them come”. I pondered the finishing of the sentence, he wasn’t talking about new life, he was talking about the floods and the animals that could be caught in the dried river beds as the levels rose being washed down river. He explained that because the soil had been baked all year, all the water would run across the soil, so what would be say 4 inches of rain in a day would travel across the ground to the nearest river bed and soon mount up to a mass of water travelling at great speed. Sweeping anything up that was in the way.
The road itself was a layer of tarmac over the top of sand with no foundations and as a result the surface was pockmarked with pot holes and troughs which gave the jeep’s suspension a run for its money. Running under the road from left to right there were drains which allowed any waters to flow evenly across the area without building up on one side of the highway. Unfortunately these again had no foundations, so every half kilometre there would be a drop of 4 inches which would then rise to normal level after 3 feet of broken tarmac, this was a real killer on my back at the speeds we were doing, approx 70-80 mph. Every now and then we would come to a toll booth in the road with security officials waiting to inspect travel papers and enquire about cargo. With the UNHCR logo on the side of the jeep we were able to pass through each of these with nothing more than a wave.
About half of the way to Shuwak, Mansul made a statement which was quite simple, but I didn’t like the sound of it, “Hmmm this does not seem good”. I enquired what, he just said it was ok we would stop soon. At the next “services” which were a row of open fronted thatched huts we stopped in front of one which had a compressor pump outside of it. Obviously the issue was a problem with one of the tires. As we got out there was a smell of hot rubber, I walked around to where Mansul was looking and the rear left hand tire was flat. Luckily we had two spares, but Mansul wanted to get the tire repaired, it was time for Chai (tea).
Carlo, Abdul Bassit and I headed a few huts along and got ourselves a cup of tea. As usual I had my camera with me and the Chai Ladies were quite eager to have their photo’s taken, but on the condition that I would give them copies of the photo’s in hard copy. I agreed to this and will give copies of the photo’s to Abdul Bassit and next time he passes by he is going to drop them off. The ladies were quite giggly at having their photo taken, but when it came to the click, they wanted to have a serious face, not one of them laughing. I think they were going for the mean and moody look, but I managed to catch them off guard a few times.
While drinking tea a man with a donkey pulling an oil drum turned up. This was the water delivery man, we had already seen a number of these people travelling the highway, going to the rivers and returning with the water to sell to households and businesses alike. As soon as he saw the camera he went and filled the two large containers he had and stood there with them in hand, telling Abdul Bassit to tell me to take a picture of him, so I did. Then one of the tea ladies gestured, why not take a picture of the donkey. So I did, big mistake, I think the donkey was an ass and that is what she had made of me. Abdul Bassit was on the phone at this point and so I didn’t have a translator to hand. But mockery was an international language that I understood all too well. J She just burst out laughing talking to everyone in the shop, I got the feeling she was saying something like “Why take a picture of a donkey, have you never seen one before?” J And then every new customer that came into the shop got the same storey, I think was the laughing stock. J Hey ho, nothing changes there J
Anyway, a full hour had passed and Mansul came to my rescue, the tire had been repaired and it was time to hit the road again. Only 1 ½ hours more and we would be stopping for lunch. That time just flew by, every twenty miles or so there were larger villages 40-50 huts with people milling along the roads. Houses were a rarity at this point I assume that the raw materials for building hut are closer to hand than bricks and mortar. As I have learnt throughout this trip is that the people in Sudan do the best with what they have and everything is reused. An example of this was the man delivering water to the Chai ladies. The drum which was laid down on what looked like two scaffolding polls extending out to a harness on the donkey was supported but flip flops and old shoes to stop the metal drum from clanging on the poles.
Something of note was the horizon, I’ve never seen anything like it, it went on and on, well, right up to the horizon. Ok I’ve seen the horizon before, I’m not aghast that. It was that I could look as far as the eye could see and there was nothing, nothing at all. But I would still see people walking along the road, thumbing us for a ride s we travelled. We didn’t really have room for anyone else in the jeep and I don’t think it was “policy” to pick up people. But there were enough cars travelling along and you would often see flat backed vans filled to the brim with people, this I assume was the cheapest method of travelling. Looking as far as the eye could see it appeared as if we were surrounded by water glistening in the sun, but that was just a mirage, it was a heat wave of proportions I had never experienced. Eventually when we came to a mountain range it looked like the mountains were suspended in water and it was quite eerie to see the huge hovering in the distance with what appeared to be nothing supporting their mass.
We stopped at Hiyari on the way, but it was like a truck stop along the highway, this was where the UN guys always stopped for lunch. Outside the front of the building were mats facing east with people dedicated in prayer. There was a kitchen to the left of the open fronted building which was open to the elements and the hordes of flies, there was a lamb carcass hanging from meat hooks, but the flies didn’t seem to be interested in it that much. They were buzzing around it, but not landing on it, that was reassuring. We sat and Abdul Bassit and Mansul asked if we wanted them to choose for us. Carlo didn’t feel like eating here, I think it was a little to grass roots for him. But I was up for some traditional Sudanese dishes and so I stated this. Abdul Bassit went to talk to the chef and Mansul asked me if I like lamb soup, “yup yup, sounds good to me”. We also had a mixture of fried lamb (carved from the carcass on the hook in front of us), black eyed beans and bread.
The soup arrived, it looked a little unusual, the way the fat was floating in pools on the top of it, but Mansul was tucking into his, so it must be good. I tried a couple of spoonfuls of the soup, it was pretty good, it tasted a little fishy, I could understand how it tasted a little fishy (like Thai Fish sauce was in it), but hey ho. Abdul Bassit returned having ordered the main part of the meal and ordered more Chai for us. He said “You enjoying your lamb head soup?” ok, that is something I wasn’t expecting or perhaps I was, the guys thought it would be funny to order the one thing most likely to gross me out. The inside voice was screaming “is it just face meat in the soup, do they get rid of the eyes and the Chai…” no I couldn’t finish the sentence internally. So I just looked at him without breaking a pause in the motion of scooping up another spoonful, half expecting to see an eye in the spoon (that would have just capped the moment) and said yup, it’s pretty good. It was pretty good, but I wouldn’t be going back for seconds that’s for sure. 🙂
The rest of the meal was pretty normal, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask what part of the lamb we were eating, as long as I didn’t know, I didn’t care, it tasted good and I was hungry. The meal was served on a 3 foot silver tray, each dish in a separate tray on that and a selection of salts and spices. We ate with our hands which was novel experience and shared each others food. A new lamb was brought out and put onto a hook and immediately it was covered with what must have been close to 100 flies. He leaned across his counter and picked up what appeared to be oil of some sort and proceeded to massage this into the skin and meat of the lamb, almost immediately the flies lost interest in the lamb and continued to visit people sat at the tables. I’m not sure exactly what it was, but it did the trick in keeping away the flies and I did consider rubbing it on myself as I was host to at least 10 of the little blighters…
We continued the journey bopping away to a collection of Ethiopian tunes which Mansul had on cassette. Now I’m not into “World Music” and won’t be buying the albums myself, but it did add to the whole experience.
It was now 3:30 in the afternoon and we had a full 1:30 hours left to travel on hour journey. The road was getting gradually worse and the environment was becoming harsher as we travelled, the huts that had lined the road regularly were becoming sparser. The reality of where we were going was beginning to set in… We stopped about 45 minutes later to get a quick breather as we were all aching from the journey (it was coming up to 5:00 a full 6 ½ hours travelling including the stop for the flat tire). This stop was ever more saddening, there were various children and families sat under the cover of the thatched huts. The change from the feel of being in the hustle and bustle of the city to this had been a gradual one, resources and “civilisation” becoming ever more sparse. The settlements were smaller, fewer and far between and the quality of the building had definitely gone down. But the roof still held up, it still provided cover from the mid day sun, what else is needed?
Oh the Sun, I didn’t mention that yet, my guess is that it was around 35-36 degrees and 0% humidity, it was baking, you could really feel the heat of the day. I felt sorry for the people milling along at the side of the road, I know I wouldn’t want to be walking along in this heat. All along the journey I had seen farmers with their herds of goats and sheep in the more “brushy” area’s along the road, I couldn’t see in either direction where there house/hut may be, it just made me think about how far they would travel during a day and whether they would return home at the end or whether it was a nomadic journey to keep their live stock free of hunger once they had cleared one particular area.
At the rest stop one family saw that it was a UNHCR jeep pulling up, they sent their youngest son out to greet us and to ask what we had for them. I started foraging in my pockets to see what money I had available, Abdul Bassit saw me about to pull some notes out, he stopped me immediately. He said no, if you do that, you will have 10 or 20 families asking for the same, you can’t do for one what you can’t do for all. I sort of understood, but with my pocket filled with cash it felt so wrong. Abdul Bassit pulled out some of his smaller coins and gave them to the boy, I followed suit. It was only a small amount, but it was something at least.
After our legs had been stretched it was back on the road for the remaining 45 minutes travelling through the Gadarf which was the largest village in the area. Mansul was really putting his foot down, my legs were aching and I felt for the first time in my life that a back massage would be heaven, it felt like my spine was about to leap out of the base of my back and scream, “No more!! I’m telling you I’ve had enough!”, I had a word with it and it agreed to stay supporting my torso for the next 45 minutes…
We arrived at the compound in Shuwak at 5:30. The compound was on the edge of the village (the refugee camp was around twenty minutes further away), the majority of the buildings were built with bricks, but on the horizon you could see the silhouettes of more huts. As soon as we arrived we were greeted by all the staff in the compound. It appeared that our arrival was quite the event, there weren’t often visitors to the compound and this appeared to be a special occasion. The compound was approx 6 times bigger than the one in Khartoum. It was surrounded by a wall as it the one in Khartoum, but there were chalets along the perimeter which were the accommodation for the nationals working in the sub station.
Salaa greeted us and immediately asked us to come to his house to join him for dinner. We decided to talk there as it was only a fifteen minute walk and after all that driving it was nice to stretch our legs. We walked past the playing fields (when I say field, I mean dust patch) where two teams of boys were playing football. Once this had been crossed we proceeded to walk through the town, it was surprisingly clean, a lot of the towns and villages I had seen on the way here had been covered with litter much as in Khartoum. At least in Khartoum there are people who are tasked with cleaning the streets, but around the villages we passed the trees lining the road were awash with blue, green and red plastic bags which had been blown into their thorny branches.
As we walked and Salaa talked about the camps (not the town) and how they used to house over 600,000 refugees from Ethiopia in the various camps and at that time the substation was the second largest sub station in the UNHCR. I tried to visualise all those people being displaced and moving from one country to another and how many passed away in the blistering heat and due to malnutrition, it was a harrowing train of through to be on. He gave me the time frame and I thought to myself, hold on, this could be one of the places that spawned Live Aid way back in the day…
We arrived at Salaa’s house and his wife had already prepared a meal for us, we did the introductions and proceeded to eat a feast of fried fish, a tomato salad with Olives, bread and omelette. Again it was all served Sudanese style on a large platter. With our stomachs fed, one of the compound jeeps turned up to take us on a brief tour of the village and then drop us back at the compound as we had an evening of work to do. The village was completely in darkness, the only light we could see was from the headlights as we went through the town, a normal car would not have made this journey without folly and it made the road we had travelled look like perfection.
We worked until 2:30am training the staff on backup routines and maintenance, performing the final migration of current data, writing backup manual’s for the make-shift IT staff (they were actually admin clerks) and installing ProGres onto the server and all of the clients. I actually fell asleep at my desk at around 2:15, I think as a result of the lack of coffee and the sapping days journey. I awoke feeling really embarrassed about it, but I looked across to Carlo to apologise and he also was sound asleep with head on keyboard. Ah QWERTY face, those were the days, falling asleep at my computer… It was off to House No6 to get some well earned sleep…
I’m having to cut so much short on this edition. I’ve tried to just cover the journey in this limited version of the journey, but there are so many emotions linked to the journey as well. I don’t want to do a ham fisted job of conveying them and I will again be updating it once I have the time… Don’t worry I will do it in a different colour of text so you don’t have to reread the entire thing if you don’t want to, but it’s 3:00 am and I am completely shattered.
Its hard to believe that tomorrow we will be at the refugee camp (what to expect?), then we will be travelling back to Khartoum on the same day, then at midnight on Thursday its to the airport for home… Time has gone so quickly here and in what I have written I haven’t even scratched the surface of this place is like… anyway… gotta start writing out Day 11 if I am ever going to get it up to the web…
Cheers
P
FYI: I’m safe, I’m back, so much more to say about the whole journey, so little time to say it at the moment…