The Sudan we have been in, is the Sudan the government is prepared to let you see: that is, the arab, islamic Sudan with its sharia law. There are two Sudans, possibly three with the Darfur situation. South Sudan, black and with a seperate government, was nearly joined to Kenya or Uganda at independence, and is near impossible and way too dangerous to visit. Years of war since independence in 1956, have left landmines, bandits, and armed tribes. (Mind you, stacks of people still walk the streets of Ethiopia with a Kalashnikov slung over the shoulder.)
There has been a peace agreement in place since 2005, and a referendum is planned (2011, I think) on self determination for South Sudan. The government is currently letting stacks of Chad refugees in to the South to help stack islam numbers prior to the vote. Most of Sudan's oil comes fom the south, which the North Sudan won't be keen on giving up. It is currently all piped to refineries in the north. It's all pretty messy, not easily sorted. The opposition press, South sympathisers, generally refer to the government as fascists, oppressors, and such rhetoric. They are regularly banned, popping up under a new name.
Sudan has had a colourful past. It has supported Saddam Hussein during the Gulf War; offered sanctuary to Osama bin Laden; hosted Carlos the Jackal and the Palestinian group Humas. In 1993, the USA put Sudan on the list of state sponsors of terrorism. Then in the mid 1990s they started their war with Eritrea; got involved with the Ugandan resistance movement; tried to assinate Egypt's president Mubarik; and then in 1998 Clinton ordered a misile attack of Khartoum, of a supposed chemical weapons factory, that turned out to be producing veterinary drugs. The goverment through this period was vehemently fundamentalist Islamic. But by 1999 oil production came into full swing: a new wealth was found, things settled. Post September 11, 2001, Sudan gained some creditability turning over to the US all its files on al-Qaeda and Iraq. They then started negotions, taking years, and not quite finished, with the South.
Everything, from what we were allowed to see, on the suface, seems settled. What lurks beneath, who knows?
The salubrious sleeper carriage
The train , Khartoum - Wadi Halfa is 930km and took 35 hours. It's done in, kind of, three stages: Khartoum to Atbara, then to Abu Hamed, and the last to Wadi Halfa. Each stage is about 12 hours, and 300km. There's a break of about an hour at each leg end.
The first leg is along the Nile. To the left you see the river, palm trees, and some farming. Green. To the right, desert. Second leg, more of the same I guess - don't know, it was dark. The third leg is the stark, harsh, slighty spooky, Nubian Desert. On this leg we stopped for three-quarters of an hour at Station 6 (there's 10 on this leg including start-finish, Abu Hamed and Wadi Halfa). Station 6 has a well,and as a result, 4 or 5 trees - and a small vilage, in the middle of the desert! The other stations just have a couple of railway workers huts. Bleak. It had to be 50 degrees at least at Six.
left side of train: Nubian Desert
right side of train: Nubian Desert
Station 4. Bleak. There are some dismal workers huts on the other side
The train is the most dirty, grotty, broken down specimen I have seen. It has Classes I, II, and III and a sleeper carriage - which we scored with help of our station master cobber Yasir. Then there's the peope who travel for free, by sitting on the roof, through the desert - poor bastards.
They pull their beanies down over their face when the train moves, and that's it for protection.
Our Swedish friend, Sara, got on at Atbara - without a ticket. She couldn't buy one for trying. They are sold in Khartoum! While we walked the station looking for her, she had quickly seen that classes I to III were just zoos. No free seats, every bit of floor space slept on, and luggage and 'cargo' stacked to the ceilings. Dirty as all hell. It was crazy. We spotted her sitting in the cafeteria carriage, looking a little concerned.
We spirited her into our sleeper compartment, and set her up on one of our camping sleeping mats on the floor. She was quite comfy, and way grateful. Next day she sat with us in our compartment and nobody said boo. About 40 kms from journey end and they came and collected tickets (they do check them regularly in other classes, but after first check left us alone in the sleepers). She paid for a third class seater ticket and got away with it.Good stuff.
A very few trucks and 4WDs cross the desert by driving next to the rail tracks. We saw only the two truck-buses, both laden with people and stacked to the sky on luggage racks. We had to stop and pick up people on the train; one truck was bogged in sand to the axles.
Going nowhere fast; passengers have boarded the train and the dig out will commence in the heat.
Man it was hot. And dusty, sandy. The toughest travel of the whole trip. Maybe. Kenyan trucks across the desert was tough alright, but this took so long. You could have made tea with our drinking-bottle water stored in the shade. The hot wind blowing through the window was like a blow torch. Literally inches of sand covered us, the beds, the floor. The train creates its on dust - lucky our carriage was up front, and we also traveled through big dust storms. Man it was tough. And we were traveling the 'comfort' class. The people we met in Khartoum who had come down by train had gone first class and were still in shock. Mind you, they also had an 11-hour derailment.
A local joker in another sleeping compartment chatted with us, telling us he last travelled on the train in 1966. It was air-conditioned, had a buffet dining car, and served cold beer! Alcohol was banned in Sudan in 1983.
We spent the night at Wadi Halfa at the Nile Hotel. All accommodation is quickly snapped up - there's the train from the south, and the ferry from the north all in town at the same time. It was full - we were offered 'outside', which is a sandy, courtyard come garden arrangement. Beds are dragged out, a mattress thrown down, a clean sheet and a pilow. You sleep under the stars. Wonderful.
To our surprise, there was about 20 foreigners there.The most foreigners we had seen in months. An overland truck, four 4WDs, and us three heading north, and a German motorcyclist and a German lass heading south into Sudan.
Wadi Halfa isn't much more than a hell hole. Again, it had to be 50 degrees, just wicked. The highlight, while sitting out our three hour breakfast in the shade, was watching an Indian made tuk-tuk get manually off loaded from the top of a bus it had been transported up on.
We had bought tickets for the ferry to Aswan, Egypt, with our rail tickets in Khartoum. Others take what they can get. You've guessed it - we hosted Sara again, in out roomy, air-conditioned cabin. The overland truck people all hosted the 4WD people on their floors as well. There was quite a comraderie between us all. But it was no secret. It became quickly well known amongst the staff that I had two blonde women with me in my room - very good for my reputation. But it was all too much for one Egyptian joker,who, all cliche tourist jokes apart, sideled up next to me at breakfast last morning, having done his research and knowing us white-ies have just the one wife, and in all seriousness pointed at Sara and says "This one, not wife?" "No, friend," I reply. "I not a rich man, but I can get two camels. OK? But I have a party, a very big party for you. My friend, he have a lot of Riki Martin music. Yes? We do?" I had to say no, I'm sure Sara's father would not have been happy had I not got at least three camels.
Offloading the boat was diabolical. When boarding we all had to throw passports in a box. During the trip they sorted the honkies out, and did our visa requirements. The rest, bloody hundreds if not more, of locals they listed alphabetically. Everyone queued in every corridor and accessway to get off as the officals called individually from the list and let people off one-at-a-time. Thankfully, somebody thought the foreigners should be allowed go as we had been through the visa stuff, and we were let off.
We stepped ashore. In Egypt. Our last country on the trip north.
Max
aka Mad
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