The bus eventually pulled in to Wadi Halfa, a desert town by
the border with little more than a few hotels and a couple shops. Our Bradt
guide book then started to feel like it was reeling out some white lies.
Actually, black, dirty, mosquito ridden lies. ‘This tidy, clean room at
Kilpatra hotel for the night will set you back only 20SDP (about £2).’ Translated
to ‘this absolute dump with a garage door, enough mosquitos to give you malaria
on your first day and beds you would happily pass on to sleep on a pig sty will
set you back around £12.’ Hmm… where is the campsite?...we both think. After a
bit of a struggle to find the word in Arabic for campsite, a little tuk-tuk
takes us a minute down the road in the pitch black and starts driving us
through an empty playground. And in some light at the end we see a clearing
with about 20 tents. And tables full of foreigners. Phew! After being told by
the locals we can camp for free and to help ourselves to the food that was left
over, we then sat down on a table with a Spanish guy called Sergio, a German
guy call Eustace and a French guy who’s name I fail to remember, who told us
they were all cycling down to Cape Town too. But they had booked with a company
that carries all their gear, tents and prepares their food. Pretty good set up.
We had a great night’s sleep and high fived each other for bringing the tent we
thought we’d never use!
Dongola
The next morning we said goodbye to all the guys we met
after being offered some breakfast too, and took a bokasi (minibus) to Dongola.
I’ve got to say that the Sudanese people seem to be the nicest I’ve ever met
travelling, full of smiles, lots of ‘hellos’
‘welcomes’ and a genuine desire to help even with the language barrier.
The 5 hour journey started with a guy trying to teach me Arabic, and a woman
who gave me a pack of sunflower seeds and sprayed her perfume all over me, she
had good taste! We took this guide book’s word on Dongola being a ‘little oasis
in the middle of nowhere’ to be figuratively, but it was literally a little
oasis in the desert. The crossing over the Nile was amazing, and the town a lot
bigger than Wadi Halfa. We found a little cheap hotel after a bit of searching
and had a wonder in the heat, stopping for some falafel… so yummy!
After a great night sleep, we got up to get down to the
security police station. When you enter Sudan, you have to register with the
police within 3 day, don’t ask me why… probably for the extra money they get
from you. This was our 3rd day, and although we found the place it
seems then guy was only interested in us using the bathroom before we could
talk to him. And speaking no English, he just seemed to babble on at us like we
were eventually going to understand him. We heard you’re meant to get charged
around $45 but it’s common to get charged anything from that to $200, with no
legitimate reason why. We decided against showing him our money as there was
nobody in the office and he was just a security guard, so thought we’d take a
chance doing it on day 4 in the next town after hearing that they usually don’t
care when you do it, just that you have.
We tried to find the ruins across the Nile in the afternoon
but with no luck, having been told by some local boys that they didn’t know
where Kawa was. I’m pretty sure they lived in it, and as Luke said, the ruins
are barely existing anymore, they probably use it as a goal post! Later in the
evening we ran into Sergio again. The cyclists were meant to arrive in Dongola
on Saturday and he was a day early. I forgot to mention that he was a bit
unwell when we met him and had a fever so was riding up in the trucks with the
organisers rather than cycling. He had arrived on the Friday as he had got
worse and had to be taken to the hospital to run some tests. Apparently one of
his lungs had packed up and most likely had an infection (although the first
hospital told him he had malaria, which turned out to be untrue… oh the
Sudanese health system!). Hopefully he’ll be on the mend soon and be able to
join the others.
Karima
After awaking from a slumber under the comfort of the mosi
net (although the mosquitos here seem so slow and ditzy they probably dong know
to even bite you), we packed up to catch a minibus to Karima. We were told that
buses leave every hour on the hour from 6am to 12pm, but after turning up at 9
and leaving at 11.30, waiting for them to fill the remaining 4 seats up before
leaving, we wondered whether this was the original 6am bus! During our wait we
enjoyed a falafel sandwich for breakfast (taamiya wa kisra- yes I’m learning
Arabic) and had a million ‘welcomes’ and ‘hellos’. After being filmed on a few
locals phones from a distance, we turned our cameras on them, and before we
knew it, were posing for photos with everyone and being asked to take pictures
of people, including the falafel maker! I can’t say I’ve seen many sites in
Sudan over the last 4 days but I’ve certainly enjoyed meeting the locals and
sharing food, laughter and smiles.
Karima is mentioned in the guide book as seeming to be one
of the hottest places in the world. And it definitely lived up to its name as
we tried to find security after checking into our hotel. Again, apart from
registering for the hotel’s sake, we couldn’t get that stamp in our passport
for love nor money. Khartoum it will have to be then, about 4 days late!
At the crack of dawn, we walked to Jebel Barkal, a mountain
just on the outskirts of Karina. Taking advantage of the cool early morning, we
climbed to the top, we reminded there for a good hour with eagles circling, and
the sun climbing basking the town in a light glow. There was something to see
from all corners- the town on one, pyramids on the other, the ruins of Jebel
Barkal and date palms covering the land on the far side. It was beautiful and
we took it all in (whilst trying to hold in a little vertigo when Luke was
posing for photos at the edge). After a steep climb up, we were happy to find a
sand covered side where we took giant leaps all the way down, inevitably
tipping sand out our shoes once we got to the bottom.
We had a look around the pyramids which were small but in
pretty good condition (despite the local kids having scrawled their names all
over them). And the ruins round the other side were pretty cool, with pottery
lying everywhere and excavation work still going on.
 |
| Pyramids at Karima |
Having read in our ‘accurate’ guidebook that at the ancient
site of El Kurru stood several pyramids and tombs, with engravings in tombs
which you could see for a mere £1, we made our way on the ‘2km’ journey. 20kms
later… and we arrived in the sweltering heat of the afternoon to a small
village with little more than mud huts and a mosque. When we finally found the
pyramids, we were a little disappointed. If I were an archaeologist then I’m
sure I would have been intrigued and a little excited that I had the site all
to myself. But unfortunately I’m not, and what I saw was outlines of where the
pyramids used to be, constructed with rocks that I’m sure weren’t the original.
There were 2 long tombs with metal doors on them that were the ones you paid to
see and apparently there were stairs that lead down them. Once the town ghaffir
appeared he decided he would charge us more than what it costs to see
Hatshepsut in Egypt, about 5 times the price of our guide book’s quote. I think
it was partially the heat, but also the long old bus journey to get us there
that made us reluctant to part with anymore money to see just a few more
hieroglyphics. So we headed back and caught a minibus back to Karina. That
evening we met an English teacher from a nearby village who tried to buy us a
cup of tea; it seems that even with very little to their name, the Sudanese
hospitality is just remarkable. Unfortunately he wasn’t in town to catch up
with friends for dinner, but had been there in the afternoon to bring a sick 5
year old boy to the hospital. He had malaria, and it wasn’t the first time, in
fact he had had it half a dozen times in his short life so far. He was on the
mend though and was expected to be back home the following day which is a
relief.
Luke and I had already started taking our anti-malarials
once we crossed the border into Sudan, despite the European cyclists on our
first day telling us there’s no malaria till Kenya. We had done a lot of
research at home and were confident that we had got it right- better to be safe
than sorry!
Khartoum
We packed up the next morning for our long bus journey to
the capital Khartoum. We were told that the bus would be by at 7 outside our
hotel to pick us up. Sudan are known for departing notoriously late, however at
7.30 thought it best to stroll down to the bus which seemed to be ready to
leave that second, and I have a feeling the message wasn’t passed on to the bus
driver to pick up the 2 foreigners on their way out! All aboard the bus with
the frilliest curtains, we flew down the road passing camels, donkeys and the
occasional tree in the middle of this vast desert.
 |
| The view from Jebel Barkal |
After managing to get our registration stamp for the steep
price of $60 in airport departures, we managed to get back through security
after changing a bit more money up at the airport. We spent the evening
wondering round a bit of the city, and our 5 day plan in Khartoum started to
decrease rapidly as we realised that it was a hot, dusty city with not much to
offer. A fair few things were open only on a Friday and it was only Monday. We
decided to sleep on it and seen how much we got done the next day.
Rising early to avoid the heat, we headed put and walked to
the Nile. After a good hour, we crossed over Tutti bridge to the island. Crossing
through, with falafel sandwich in hand (I think I’ve reached my peak of falafel
sandwiches now) we eventually found the ferry over to Omdurman. After
befriending a college guy, he paid for our ferry tickets before we could even
whip the money out. Even in the city they still seem to have this great
hospitality about them. We went over to the Souk and got a few little things,
including earbuds. In the desert, we felt like our ears were closing up with
sand. After declining a pack of toothpicks (yes that’s right), we eventually
found some.
It was baking now, but we wanted to see the Confluence of
the Nile, where both the Blue and White Nile join. It was pretty cool to see,
however I think we weren’t in the right season to see the stark contrast of the
different colours blending.
We eventually found the National Museum which was amazing.
Especially for 20p! Loads of artefacts and statues filled the main building,
which also happened to be surrounded by 3 temples brought from different areas
of Sudan and re-erected. It was the highlight of Khartoum for me, and not just
because there were fans all over the place!
After a bit of a think, we decided that we had seen all we
wanted to see in Khartoum, and although the whirling dervishes would be pretty
cool, we’d have to wait 4 days… so thought it best to move on.
Now I’ve been on some pretty rough bus journeys, but this
one is going to make the Egypt to Sudan bus I mentioned early look like a 1st
class service! We were told the buses leave every 2 hours for the Sudan border,
starting from 7. So we rocked up at 7.30 in an effort to catch the 9am bus.
After handing over our money and told to wait until 8.30, we sat in the shade
before the heat was about to set in. At 8 they started to load up the bus,
which looked nothing like what the ticket showed… more like a school bus handed
over from the US which was on its last legs. With torn up seats, air cons that
has been ripped out from above your head and sunflower seed kernels everywhere,
we knew we were in for quite a journey. Then they started to way our bags and
wanted to charge us half the price of the ticket itself. Hmm… but after
discussion with some of the other passengers, it seemed that was the case for
everyone. And when I asked the sales guy why this was the case, having been on
3 big buses in Sudan now and not experiencing it, he said it’s because it goes
to the border and is only ever half full. I can’t say I’ve ever had to pay for
the invisible man’s seat before but I hope he had a better trip than did. All
aboard at 9, I was prepared to wait another hour for god knows what, but it
seemed to be my experience in Sudan so far. We were waiting for the gates to
open at the bus station. And whilst we were waiting, the bus seemed to fill up,
and fill up… until, oops, Mr Invisible must have been squashed by some old man.
Seems the money I handed over for my bag didn’t keep him his seat. At 12pm the
gates finally opened to let us out (that was a wait and a half), and off we
were heading South. At an initial estimated arrival time of 6pm, I wasn’t sure
whether they had factored in the ‘faffing’ time in, as I like to call it. After
a sweaty, sticky, humid journey, we arrived at the town before ours at 7pm,
knowing our destination was another 3 hours away, I could have cried. I could
have almost wished I was sitting in a cold audit room, eating a Wasabi and
pouring over a spreadsheet…almost.
Gallabat
We finally arrived in Gallabat at 10.30pm, famished. After a
passport check, we were directed to a little lokanda; a little bamboo shelter
with several beds in it, and no door. Knackered, and knowing there was nothing
else in town, we accepted and pad just £1.50 each to be sharing a hut with 2
snoring Ethiopians, who could remarkably sleep through the call to prayer (a
mean feat when the mosque is right next door).
The next morning, we rose with the sun to our last morning
in Sudan, and with our last bag of falafel for the journey (I don’t think I’ll
be ordering another one of those anytime soon), we made our way to border
control. A quick stamp in the passport and we said our last goodbyes to the
dusty desert and friendliest country I’ve ever been to. I knew no other country
we were going to after Sudan was ever going to charge us the right price, or be
as welcoming as the Sudanese people had been. But onwards and downwards we went
to Ethiopia for the next chapter of the adventure...
Total spend: £67 (£7.40 per night) - mostly spent on falafel
Excluding the registration fee of £45
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