Kicking Back in Khartoum…

The haboub hits Khartoum...

Sand and dust rain down on us as we make our way home...

The city of Khartoum lies at the confluence of the Blue and White Niles, and is divided into three sectors, namely Khartoum itself in the south, Omdurman to the North West, and Bahri to the north. The Nile cuts through the metropolis of Khartoum, dividing it into three slices of a very big pie… Just south of the confluence lies Tuti Island, an almost forgotten part of the city, where lemon groves and vegetable gardens cover the banks waiting for the annual flood to bring silt from as far away as the highlands of Ethiopia…

On the day of my arrival in Khartoum, I experienced two separate dust and sand storms, which swept out of the western desert and covered the city and its surroundings in a fine layer of talcum-powder like dust… These sand storms are called haboubs and when they appear on the horizon, it is time to “batten down the hatches”… On the way out to fetch Nick from a riding stable he was at, we rode through the first one, and on the way back later that afternoon, a second one swept over Khartoum… This one even bigger than the first… The dust rose hundreds of feet up into the skies above the city. It was an amazing sight, and the huge cloud moved swiftly away to the northern outskirts, bringing traffic to a virtual halt where the cloud was at its densest…

The dust cloud moves quickly to the north of us...

The wind that had been messing with me for the better part of the morning, now tore through Khartoum, scattering litter and carrying plastic bags along with it… Late afternoon turned to darkness and then back to light as the storm passed over… I hoped that I wouldn’t get caught in one of these storms out on the road to Wadi Halfa… That would be interesting…!!

Later that evening, it rained!! Talk about from one extreme to the next…!! After the last few days of intense heat and the driest conditions I had ridden through since my journey began, to see rain falling was a moving experience for me, one of those “mouth open in wonder” moments… The drizzle lasted for about half an hour, and within minutes of it ending, the humidity shot up, and the heat went back to being as uncomfortable as it was before…

At the stables, I met Billy and Christy Brenchley, another South African couple living here in Khartoum. Their story is an amazing one, and bears telling here… They set off from Tunisia in 2005, to make a journey down to Cape Town….on horseback!! And you thought I was a nutcase!! They have had to deal with endless setbacks, including waiting almost three months in Tunisia for permission to cross Libya, and then having one of their horses die when they reached Khartoum… A journey that had originally been planned for about 13 months, has now taken almost four years, and they have covered only four countries so far… They have been in Khartoum for a few years now, training another horse to replace the one that died, and keeping themselves busy by running a riding school on the south eastern edge of the city…

They intend leaving Sudan through its southern border with Uganda towards the third quarter of 2010, and ride down the centre of the continent into Namibia and then down to Cape Town… You have to agree that this is a journey of epic proportions when you consider that they are able to cover relatively short distances every day, and carry only the barest of essentials with them, relying almost entirely on their wits to get them through every hard fought day… Maximum respect, Billy and Christy…!!

Amongst the litter in this ditch, a dog cools down in a small puddle of water...

Saturday was the final of the Super 14, and a large group of ex-pats arrived at the Tutt’s home to enjoy the game, a few beers, and a braai of course!! Most of the guys supported the Stormers (silly people!!) so there were a number of long faces after the game… I met Marco Carreno from Peru, who works with George and is getting married at the end of the year… After asking about my trip, he thought it might be a good idea to join me for a few weeks before tying the knot…

“It might be the last time I get such a chance…!” he said…

“You better believe it, Mate! Take the plunge! Meet me in Europe!” I told him…

We stood smoking a cigarette together, his eyes shining with the possibility of taking a last “Freedom Ride” with me…

I commandeer a Tuk-Tuk to get ice for the party...

On Sunday, Billy very kindly drove me around the city to get my Alien Registration Stamp, and our patience was tested again and again, as we were sent back and forth across the city before finally getting the elusive slip of paper stuck in my passport… All tourists to Sudan are required to register with the authorities within three days of entering the country… I had been told to do so in Khartoum by the officials at the border, but later discovered that I could have registered in Gedaref, and saved myself a whole lot of bother… If you do have to register in Khartoum, allow half a day to get this done… You will need a letter from your hotel, vouching for you, or, as was the case with me, you will have to be accompanied by a Sudanese citizen, who must confirm your bona fides to the authorities, before you will be officially accepted into the country.

We had to return to the house to get George’s house boy, Ramadan, to come with us before I got the “thought police” squared away… By this time I had a bad case of the mutters, and had it not been for Billy’s patience and persistence, I wouldn’t have bothered with the registration at all, and ridden on to Wadi Halfa to face the fine and consequences there… You also have to pay a Registration Fee of SDG 100.00 (about R350.00) for the privilege of breathing in the hot Sudanese air…

The sun sets over the bridge leading to Tuti Island...

We then dropped my pannier off at a Canadian friend of Billy’s who is an aircraft technician. Vince had agreed to knock the pannier “back into shape” for me, while I was getting all the other bits and pieces repaired on the bike…

With ice loaded, we headed back, feet holding the slabs in place...

I discovered that I had not got my timing right with regards to the ferry out of Sudan from Wadi Halfa… The ferry only sails on Wednesdays, and with only a day to go before it sailed, there was no way I was going to make this weeks’ sailing… This meant that I would have to put my plans back a full week!!  George and Paula would have to put up with me for a few days more!! My only concern was that this gave me less time to cover North Africa than I would have liked, and cut down the time I had to get to North Cape in Norway before winter set in… Ah well…it’s all part of the deal in the end… Delays like this were bound to crop up from time to time…

George buys rolls from a "hole in the wall" bakery...

All aboard... Let the Shenanigans begin....

The working week here in Sudan, starts on Saturday, and runs through to Thursday… Yep, they work a six day week here! Fridays are “weekend”…  Just the one day!! Mondays are “midweek” and this week, the Hash Club had arranged a houseboat to sail down the Nile on…

Before leaving for work, George asked me to get a few blocks of ice… Ramadan and I went out in a Tuk-Tuk, and after locating the ice-maker, loaded three huge blocks onto the floorboards and made our way back home, hanging onto the ice and the frame of the Tuk-Tuk for dear life…

More than fifty revelers boarded the boat just south of the Blue Nile Yacht Club, and for the next four hours, we sailed up the Blue Nile, before turning around and drifting back downstream to our mooring… With Nick acting as DJ for the night, rock music blared out of the speakers that had been brought along. George and Paula served hot dogs, while the partygoers helped themselves to the limited supply of beer and liquor that had mysteriously found its way onto the boat, cleverly disguised as cold-drinks…!!

The party started off normally enough...

Then got a little out of hand later on...

This was a party with a difference! The dancing had the boat rocking, and the Captain casting nervous glances over the side from time to time…

Many of the guys danced shirtless, and some of the girls gave new meaning to the term “pole dancing”, using the poles supporting the roof of the level above as props… Had we not run out of alcohol halfway into our journey, I think a lot more than shirts would have come off… The Ex-pats in Khartoum certainly know how to let their hair down… No question!!

George and Paula Tutt, making merry on the houseboat...

The Gypsy Biker takes a breather during the festivities...

I stood on the fore deck as we motored back towards for Khartoum, watching the city lights as they drew closer… We passed under the large steel bridge that someone said had been shipped over here from India, and the nosed our way onto the southern bank of the river… I could not believe that I was cruising down the Nile on a houseboat filled with people having fun… I wished some of my own mates were here to see this… But then again, had some of my mates been here, we might have been swimming to shore by now, bits and pieces of boat floating in the water around us…!!

Here comes trouble...!!

With time to kill, I was able to give some thought as to what I had to do before leaving for Wadi Halfa… I had to change money in Khartoum, to ensure I had enough to cover the ferry tickets for myself and the Big Fella, as well as for fuel and accommodation for the three days I had decided to take to ride to Lake Nasser… I had to collect my pannier and repack my gear to see if I could get the bike properly balanced again… I was not enjoying riding at a slight angle to keep the bike perfectly straight, and hoped that by moving gear around and making the right hand side heavier than the left, I could accomplish this…

George's son Nick does DJ duty...

Vince had done a great job in getting my pannier sorted out and during our visit there, I discovered he was from Calgary, a city that I wanted to visit during the famous “Stampede”… His wife is from Switzerland and they had just returned from a short trip there, where he has a superbike parked. Just prior to us leaving, he handed me a book entitled “Motorbike Journeys through the Alps” by John Hermann and said,

“You can leave this with my in-laws when you pass through Switzerland…”

I had to smile at this… It really takes some getting used to, the amazing friendships that I have built in such a short space of time… Imagine being given something of value by a person you have just met, and told that you can drop it off in another country a few thousand miles away…!! My journey so far has been far from “dangerous”, but rather an eye-opening experience into the generosity shown to me by complete strangers and fellow travelers… This has been one of the highlights of my experiences so far…

Here in Sudan, travelers were treated very well, and wherever I have been, I have seen large ceramic jugs, filled with water and hung out on poles or under small shelters, where any passerby may drink from… Even far out in the desert, water is available in this fashion… It might not be the cleanest drinking water around, but when the choice between dying of thirst and drinking water of dubious origins is thrust upon you, you will not think twice before drinking your fill…

And worst comes to worst, you’ll be able to pat yourself on the back for remembering to bring Imodium…!!