The Ride to Khartoum…

Chief of Security for the last 40 years at the hotel in Gedaref...

The hotel slumbered while I carried kit down to the bike. Friday is the Sabbath in Sudan, and by 7.00am, the only thing I had seen moving were a scrawny cat and Mohammed “Mighty Mouse”, the security guard of indeterminate age…

Another load comes a cropper... The sand on the verges is not as firm as it looks...

I was on the road about an hour later, wanting to get as much distance in the first few hours as I could, before the sun could get up and start cooking me again… An hour out of Gedaref, I was stopped at a police checkpoint and told to ride my bike into their compound, which was situated down a steep embankment… My passport was asked for and then passed around between four policemen before one of them began writing my details down in a big black book…

I stood around on the verandah outside, quietly melting while they looked at every visa in my passport and then finally handed it back to me with a smile and wished me “a good journey”… I hung around watching some women carrying large buckets filled with water from a well a short distance away… I waved at them, and after looking around to see if anyone was watching, some of them shyly waved back…

The bleached trunks of Fever trees stand out starkly against the dark cotton-soil of Eastern Sudan...

A spiteful westerly wind had begun to blow, and for the next few hundred kilometres, would force me to hang on grimly at times, when sudden strong gusts took me perilously close to the verge of the highway… When traffic was light, I spent most of the time riding on the opposite side of the road, to allow myself more space and time to correct my line when the wind threatened to blow me off the road and into the desert…

This modest little hill breaks the monotony of the desert...

There is not a heck of a lot to see on this stretch of sun scorched road, and the Big Fella put his left shoulder into the wind and we roared through the flat harsh landscape at high speed, only slowing down when a camel or a donkey appeared close to the side of the road… On past Heresid and through two or three police checkpoints, until in the distance I could see a large bridge that spanned the river which I had left behind me in Bahir Dar a few days ago… The Blue Nile…!!

Drinking water to stay alive... Simple as that...!!

It came snaking out of the desert from the west, and for the rest of the ride to Khartoum, would never be far from the road, sometimes coming in real close but for the most part indicated by a swathe of greenery out to the east of where we rode…

On the other side of the bridge lay Wad Medani, a large town almost halfway between Gedaref and Khartoum. I stopped to buy more water and take on fuel, as I knew that trying to make it to Khartoum on a single tank would take me to the very edge of my range… After filling up, the manager, Mohammed, dragged a low metal framed stretcher from out of a small office and asked me to sit down and rest…

Gotta protect your pip out here...

He kept pointing up at the sky and then at my head, which I hoped meant that I should keep out of the sun, and not a warning that I might be struck on the pip by a stone throwing Arab… He then went off and returned with an ice cold Coke, and a bottle of water, both of which he pressed into my hands and refused payment for…

I had heard that the Sudanese are very hospitable and would never neglect a traveler in distress… I was hardly in distress, but did need to drink more water, and I sat there doing just that, while he fidgeted next to me, clearly wanting to ask many questions, but too shy to try his scant English out on me…

My wallet lay next to me on the stretcher, and I opened it again in another attempt to pay for the drinks… He flatly refused, reaching forward and closing my wallet in my hands… I smiled at him and then on impulse, opened my wallet again and removed a photo of my daughters, and showed it to him… I’m not sure what made me do this, as I not shown it to too many people before…

Making friends at a truck stop near Wad Medani, Sudan...

Midday snack... A litre of water and a packet of biscuits...

I spent the next few minutes telling him all about them; their names, their ages, and where they now were, while he nodded happily at each remark I made… I have no idea if he understood a word I had said, but in some strange way, I felt that we had made a connection… I sat staring down at the photo in my hands for a long time… He must have sensed the emotions coursing through me, as he laid a gentle hand on my shoulder and said…

“Insh Allah…” (God Willing…)

“Yes… Insh Allah…!” I replied, carefully putting the photo back into my wallet…

The flag count is mounting...and the Gypsy Biker is melting...

I rode the next hour in a bit of a funk… Thoughts of the last few years swirling through my head, not noticing the heat or the wicked wind that blew me all over the place… At Al Kamilin, I pulled over to take a break, and call Paula Tutt in Khartoum to let them know I was an hour or so away, and then made a few running repairs to the Big Fella’s front nose cone, which had worked loose after the fall in Addis, and was threatening to come completely adrift… A young boy watched me as I worked, not saying a word, but crouching down close enough to see exactly what I was doing…

I opened my last packet of biscuits and gave him a few, which he gravely accepted, and then began taking tiny bites out of, until he had eaten them all… He never once gave me the impression that he wanted more, which I found a complete change from the kids in Ethiopia, who at the sight of a biscuit would immediately begin shouting “Give me, give me..!!”, and holding out their hands for some… The Sudanese seem to be a prouder lot, and I have seen very few people openly begging…

The Blue Nile finally comes snaking out of the desert at Wad Medani, and would now be a constant companion all the way to Khartoum...

I arranged to meet Paula and George at the Solitaire Restaurant in Eastern Khartoum, and managed to find my way there easily enough… While I waited, I ordered an ice cold Watermelon Juice, followed by a Peach Smoothie…!!!! Heaven came to Khartoum!! After the hot, dry and windy conditions that I had battled through for the last 440 km, it felt weird to be sitting in an air-conditioned room, sipping on a Smoothie… But if this was what weird is about, I’ll take it any day of the week…!

Buses drive with their engine covers open to stop the engines from overheating...

Paula and George arrived a few minutes later and escorted me to their home, which was barely a few minutes’ drive away… It was great to meet yet another South African couple, working in a foreign country, and after a quick shower, we got to know each other over a few cold drinks… Alcohol is forbidden in Sudan under their Sharia Law, and openly flouting this law may lead to serious repercussions…

Both Paula and George work for the DAL group of companies, George in their Financial Department, and Paula in the Quality Control department of the Dairy Products Division… Just as Deon and Janine in Dar es Salaam had started their “Into Africa” adventure in Botswana, so had George and Paula…

Later I met their son Nick, who had given up his room for me, and despite my protests, would be “taking to a stretcher” for the duration of my stay in Khartoum… The room has both an air-conditioner and a fan, and the combination of these two were guaranteed to keep the temperature down at night, where it could climb to over 40 degrees…!!!

Just as I had been made to feel at home with all the previous hosts who had invited me into their homes in the past few months, so too, was I here at the Tutt’s home… In the mean time…

It’s was cooking in Khartoum…!!