Khartoum, Sudan - Come shoot me now!!

Hello my friends. Today was the mother of all wasted days. At least 5 hrs. I won't get back.

The only saving grace was talking to my brother on MSN for an hour or so. I miss everyone at home very much but it's this crazy "profession" I'm in. Ok, it's not a profession but some days it feels like work. Hard slogging, frustrating work.

The drudgery started early. Most of today was taken up with the alien registration but first I needed more money at the bank. It seems like I've been burning a lot of cash lately. Then I managed to track down the US Embassy a couple of miles down a traffic choked lane from the hotel. Like most American embassies in the world, this one was heavily guarded with razor wire, walled compound, concrete blast barriers, armed guards, marines, checkpoints, metal detectors. You name it they had it. Pretty ominous.

It was hot as hell already when I got to the Embassy. I asked one of the Sudanese cops sitting under a tree if I was close to the registration office. He pointed down the street using a curving motion. Shukran, my friend...

After a hundred metres walk, I found Office III. It wasn't signed, dammit. They were still playing around with my head. I asked an official looking person for confirmation. The Eagle had landed. Office III was real. I nearly cried but felt really dehydrated instead. Got the necessary forms despite no one knowing a speck of English. I found the lack of English speaking personnel rather odd for an alien registration office. Next I had to wait an hour to submit my completed form only to find out that I needed a guarantor's stamp (a Sudanese citizen that could vouch for me that I'm in the country). Where am I going to find someone to do that??? They told me the hotel was suppose to supply the stamp. Went back to the hotel where Mahmoud at reception was really reluctant to do this for me. He pretended like I just stepped off a spaceship or something. Eventually, he opened the drawer in his desk and pulled out the rubber stamp and stamped a piece of blank paper. Went back to the office. This time when I got to the hole-in-the-wall they told me that I was missing the requisite letter stating I was an alien staying at the hotel. Back to Mahmoud. He acted like an idiot again. Refusing, hemming and hawing until he broke down again and hastily wrote me a letter. I think he just wanted to get rid of me.

Back at Office III, I met a couple from Switzerland who said that the letter had to be typed!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! The buck had to stop there and then. I was going to give them the handwritten letter I had, dammit!!! While I had a conniption, the service window closed. What the hell!!! It was lunch!!! I felt like giving up. I just sat there staring incredulously at the sealed window. 45 minutes passed. Nothing happened. I needed clarification about the need for a typed letter. I knocked on the Office door. When the door opened, they dismissed me. I tried knocking again. This time I wedged the door open with my body and asked them about the letter. I was told to come in. After a few minutes, the Boss man came out. He took my application. Fifteen minutes later, it was approved. I thanked him profusely but to rub salt in my wounds he told me to come back in an hour to pay for the permit.

Situation normal for Sudan, eh.

[ed. note: after I paid 44 USD for the registration, I found out from the Swiss couple that they had paid 34 USD each.]

Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, May 13/07
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Khartoum, Sudan - Will the real alien office please stand up!

Couldn't complete the tasks today. Yah, you heard me. I still have to get registered. I'm feeling a bit antsy because I must be at least 2 days over the deadline.

The retired professor, residing in the hotel, was nice enough to take me to the new registration office (as directed by the security officer at the "old" office) this morning. The "new" office (quite the distance from Souq al-Arabi), turned out to be another dead end, another "old" office. I couldn't believe it. Apparently, the most recent reincarnation of the office was sighted near the US embassy. Ahhhhhhhh!!! Nooooooo!!! According to my map, it was 1 or 2 miles away from the hotel!!! Damn. I couldn't believe it... (I will take care of it tomorrow...I promise...)

I thought the professor said he was going to wait for me while I was in bogus Office #2. I came out and realized he'd taken off with the taxi. There must have been misunderstanding, but I waited a half hour for him to return. There's one characteristic that I've observed about Sudanese: they have very short attention spans. If it weren't for the shade trees lining the road, I would have burnt to a crisp... I gave up (again) and took an expensive minibus ride over to the Train Station/Ferry Ticket Office.

The Train Station was huge. Ironically, this cavernous building served the one active train route in the country: here to Wadi Halfa on the shores of Lake Nasser. There must have been better times for train travel in Sudan. I was waiting in line for a train ticket for an hour before the que of about 30 people broke rank. Everyone ran for the front doors and around the building. The que reformed outside in front of another ticket window. I followed but I was just taken aback by the proceedings. Apparently, the first and second class just sold out (inside the station) and the rest of us slobs were now vying for hard seats in cattle class. Crap.

Consolation was that next to me in line was an interesting guy from Abri (town in the north). His name was Abdullah. Coincidently, Adullah worked in the oil fields for Talisman, an energy company whose headquarters are in Calgary (my hometown in Canada). He had good memories of working for them. Nowadays, he thinks the West is "total fucking shit" (his words) for forcing Talisman out of Sudan. He's on his way home, leaving "shitty" Khartoum. I understand your pain, my friend. As it turned out, he bought his ticket with mine and we'll be bench mates for the trip north. Good company...

After an hour in the hot sun, I got the train ticket (27 USD - for this Monday) and came back into the building to buy the boat ticket. Another 5 hour wait. There must have been at least 40 people ahead of me. Damn, the ticket sellers were slow. While in line I was surprised to meet an American guy. His name was Matt (from Vermont). There aren't many Americans in Sudan. We talked about his experiences here. Suffice to say, he was constantly explaining his personal position on Sudan as opposed to his government's. He's not taking the train to Wadi Halfa but I'll probably see him on the ferry, maybe, in a few days.

I managed to get 2nd Class "deck" seats on the ferry (44 USD). Any seat was OK, I guess. Damn, I'm just gonna be wasted by the end of this segment...

By the time I stepped out of the Station and into the heat of the late day sun, I felt cheated. 7 hours of my life I could not get back...

Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, May 12/07
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Khartoum, Sudan - Goaaaaaaaaaaaaaallllllllll!!!

The more I'm out in the real world the more I'm convinced that it's soccer that is the glue that holds the world together. Well, it holds Africa together at least.

The hotel is kind of an interesting place. The guests are more like tenants. It seems more like a low cost apartment building than a hotel. Too bad the guests are all men...

The hotel is 5 floors. On the roof is the TV room. The boys like watching al-Jazeera (or some other news channel) and old Arabic movies. But what really draws a packed roof is a televised soccer game. Last night's game was a match between two local teams. Not an empty seat in the house. You could cut the tension with a knife. A lot of head clutching after scoring chances (I never clutch my head when watching hockey...). Minutes from the end of the game, one of the teams scored the decisive goal. The crowd on the roof went berserk. Seconds later, another huge roar erupted from the surrounding buildings. Surreal... Next thing I knew, a human wave of revelers came spreading down the road in front of the hotel. That was just a local game for chrissakes...

It was just slightly cooler today (about 36C). What a relief. Like everywhere in the Islamic World, government offices, banks and such were closed. Good thing the local shwarma shop was open. I thought I'd catch a cab to watch some whirling dervishes at a far away mosque. I've seen them already in Turkey. After being blasted by the noon hour heat, I lost my motivation.

I really have to haul ass tomorrow. First the alien registration. Then I have to take care of business at the train station.

Think I can get done?

Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, May 11/07
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Khartoum, Sudan - A Betty Crocker Oven with a View...

It was crazy hot in the room last night. Something like 38C. The walls retain a lot of heat. There's something in the mattresses that made me itch. So, I'm sleeping on my sleep pad (not good because the springs poke through). Anyway, it's difficult to get any kind of rest, especially when I woke up in a pool of my own sweat with great frequency.

Suffice to say, I'm trying to stay out of the room. I tend to hide in the internet cafe across the way for some of its sweet air conditioning. I know. That's pathetic.

Today I started early with the tasks at hand, hoping to avoid moving around in the heat of day. Went to change money (they profess not to like America but they sure like it's cash). At the first bank, the security guy referred me to his friend "the moneychanger" and not the Bank of Khartoum which, according to him did not perform foreign exchange. Yah, whatever...

Then I tried to find the alien registration office. Tourists are suppose to register within a few days of entry into the country. They moved it. Swell. This snafu will be troublesome because I'm not sure where it is on my map. Got the security guy to write down in Arabic the name of the registration office. I hope that will help...

After the registration debacle, I started to wilt from the heat. It was almost noon. I had to find something to drink fast. Heat exhaustion is a killer. I had to quickly duck into a dark cool internet cafe.

Not a productive day. To top it off, I tried quizzing the hotel reception on the whereabouts of the train to Wadi Halfa. With my pathetic Arabic and the receptionist's pathetic English, nothing intelligent came out of that conversation. He did find a resident of the hotel that might be able to help me. a really old guy (perhaps in his eighties?), a retired professor. He spoke English! (According to him, it was not uncommon for his generation to understand English because of the colonization. He said to forget about the current generation of Sudanese wrt English.) He directed me to the train ticket office, AND wrote down in Arabic the phrase I needed to help me find it. What a swell guy. That's until I followed his directions and found that the train services had move and now were all centralized in North Khartoum.

I gave up, for today.

I've been using the fact that I'm Chinese more often. Of course, I'm ethnically Chinese but not nationally Chinese, a fact that doesn't seem to matter to most Sudanese. I'm not ashamed. Anything to gain an advantage or be seen in better light is good. Today, I was called a "sendeega" at the railway station. It's supposed to be a term of endearment (meaning "friend") applied to the supposed 5 million Chinese (PRC) expats living here and "helping" out the Sudanese by making their country a better place. Surprisingly, I haven't seen a Chinatown, or Chinese-run laundry or restaurant, yet...

I was buying some detergent when the vendor asked me if I knew how to speak in English. That was hilarious because I had been speaking to him in English for a least a minute beforehand. I guess "sendeegas" can't speak English...

Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, May 10/07
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Gedaref to Khartoum, Sudan...In search of a pharmaceutical factory...

During the bus ride to Khartoum, the guy next to me, Asser, gave me a lesson in basic Arabic. These types of lessons are way better than any phrasebook translations in my book. Probably the most important phrases I learned was "ana eyes moya" (note my bastardized English phonetics) or "I want water" and the immortal "enta bint jameela" or "you are a beautiful woman". Asser suggested that if I didn't want to be slapped in the face or face the death penalty that I refrain from using the latter phrase, at least in public...

Investing a few bucks in a deluxe A/C bus turned out to be a really good idea. I met a couple of nice guys who helped me out with the bus: Targ at the Gedaref station (thanks for the tea) and Asser (on the bus to Khartoum). The left Gedaref at 0700 and got to Khartoum at 1300. As Targ and I were sipping hot milk tea while waiting for our buses, I could already feel the heat of the day building. It would only get worse. At one of the security checkpoints, I stepped out and was met by an incredible wall of heat. By the time we got to Khartoum, my watch thermometer registered a temperature of 43C. Normally, it just gives me a reading of my skin temperature.

Khartoum was a mess. Finding an affordable room was difficult. Asser was nice enough to walk me to a place suggested by LP. It was closed, as was all other budget suggestions. There were a lot of hotels about, but rooms were going for 60 to 100 USD. The last budget hotel on the list actually existed and was full. I was about to give up. The heat was taxing my mind and more importantly my body.

Hell knew what the locals thought of me, walking around aimlessly with a 20 kg bag strapped to my back in extreme heat. Must have looked pretty dumb. I had to rest for a half hour on the steps of the National Bank trying to figure out what to do.

I asked the reception at the last budget hotel where there was similar accommodations. A boy helped me navigate the intricate layout of the Souq al-Arabi district to what turned out to be a un-named hotel (ok, 2 handwritten Arabic words scratched on a wall beside a set of stairs does not constitute a sign to me, eh). I took the room. Overpriced but I didn't care. They didn't seem to want me to share a room with other Sudanese clients. So, I have 4 beds to myself.

I joined couchsurfing.com last night. It puts together travelers with local people who are willing to offer a bed for a night or two. I'm seriously thinking of giving some of these folks a call.

[Aside: Was talking to Asser on the bus. We were watching a really bad B-movie with some idiot American-type special operations Navy Seals guy shooting up bad guys (perhaps Arabs?) when conversation turned to current events in the news... According to Asser, Arabs are always presented in the worse light. If he saw any foreign troops on Sudanese soil he wouldn't hesitate in killing them. Tourists are OK though (I felt a wave of relief travel through my body) that includes American tourists. To Asser, he could distinguish between the US government and the American people. It's when they want to take something of Sudan's is when the problem occurs. The "problem" in Darfur was an exaggeration of the Western media. The Sudanese people are beautiful. With my limited exposure so far, I agreed. It's their government who are the evil ones [me]. According to Asser, George W. is a tosser (I agreed). If he ever stepped on Sudanese soil he would give him the one fingered salute (he demonstrates) and then slit his throat. Other than slitting W's throat it's nice to see Sudanese and most Americans (let alone the rest of the world) agreeing on what they think of dubya. There is hope in future cooperation. I only report the news, eh...]


View Larger Map
The marker in the map points to my Hotel in Khartoum. This area is called the Souq Al-arabi which by its name is where the market is situated. Every night vendors line the streets selling stuff like parfume to shoes and shirts. My hotel is situated in the "garment district". A lot of seamsters ply their trade here, with sewing machines out in the open. The large football like field to the north of the hotel is the amazingly crazy, humungous Souq Al-arabi bus station.

Out of Canuckistan: A travel blog, May 9/07
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haven't seen a pharmaceutical factory, yet...

salaam aliekum my friends,

I've been in Khartoum for the a few days now. it's been just roasting hot outside with temperatures between 40 to 46 C. that's really hot. i've never experienced such intense solar radiation. there's not much that the uninitiated can do during the day except to keep outside or inside activities to a bare minimum. for me, that's walking slowly to and from the local shop for multiple bottles of life giving water. cool clear water. i'm not kidding. once you're in the throes of dehydration you are toast. i certainly picked the wrong time of year to visit sudan.

i do go out at night. the area i'm staying in is called souq al-arabi (the arab market). each and every night the streets are lined with vendors plying their wares (undergarments to bottled parfume). it's pretty chaotic. alot of shouting and thousands of shoppers. i've noticed a couple of things. khartoum, well this part at least, is a dump and most sudanese are pretty tall. i'm surprised more have not followed in the footsteps of manute bol (nba player extraordinaire).

so far the people have been pretty friendly. when i'm walking about people shout out SINDEEGA (sp)!!. that's a term of endearment assigned to each and every chinese national working in sudan. supposedly, there's 5 million brothers and sisters who drew the short straws and call sudan home. surprisingly, there isn't a chinatown in khartoum, and the laundry biz is not dominated by the chinese (yet). i've only seen a few chinese in town. apparently, a bulk of them are working the oil fields down in the South.

i've unabashedly used my unofficial sindeega status a few times already. to hell with being a canadian in these parts, eh. the police don't hassle me and soldiers shake my hand. i was trying to buy some laundry soap last night (ok, it's my heritage). a guy was trying to help me out because of my poor command of the arabic language (i used the right word, that being "become" when asking for the cost of something). sometimes people are so shocked that i can utter a few words of their language that they are in a state of de-nile (get that joke, ha!). my helper asked me whether i understood english or not. that's hilarious because i had been speaking english with him for at least a minute. he asked where i was from. china (of course). well, the chinese are very supportive of sudan. they (the chinese) are great people. uh huh... blah, blah, blah... look buddy, once the motherland wants payback it's lights out for sudan if you can't fork over the oil.

the "d" word...

it's amazing the conversations i have on buses. i figure talking with the normal folks is like taking the pulse of the nation. you know, getting to down to the nitty gritty. well, i made my first sudanese friend, asser, on the air conditioned bus from gederaf (see map) to khartoum (see map). asser's a really nice guy. when the steward put on the feature movie (a really bad d-grade hollywood flick about some american dude blowing up stuff), asser turned his head.

are you ok, i asked.

"i don't watch american movies"

"why not?"

"american movies always makes us look very bad"

"you know it's a story and not real?"

no answer.

the conversation some how turns to the subject of the D word (i'll just say it's in the west of sudan). according to asser, the "problem " in the D region is exaggerated by the western media. sudanese people are beautiful. i agreed (well, most of them are). if he sees any foreign troops in sudan, he wouldn't hesitate running up to them and slitting their throats with a dagger (the latter comment was done with great animation). there is a silver lining though. tourists are ok (thank Allah). that includes american tourists. i digress. the only way foreign forces can "take" sudan is if they killed all the sudanese people because each and everyone will fight till their last breaths.

he was really working himself into a lather by now. i was flabbergasted. yet, i couldn't resist asking him what he thought about george bush. surprisingly, he calmly replied that if he ever stepped on sudanese soil he'd call him a tosser and give him the one fingered salute (i.e. the worst thing a sudanese could give dubya). asser demonstrated the latter gesture by slowly lifting the middle finger of his right hand. well, at least dubya won't need the aid of a translator in that case. he went on to complete his thought by saying after the hand gesture he would have to, on the spot, disembowel dubya. ok...

i think i fell asleep after that. a/c has that effect on me.

by the way, asser said "death to america" as i faded. he tried to teach me the arabic translation but i can't remember what it was.

ed. notes.

1. no corresponding artsie photo this week. i'm required to purchase a photography permit at some horrendous price. i can't take pix of men/women in uniform. because the po-leece and armed forces are ubiquitous, i can't take a whole lotta pix in any case. therefore, in lieu, this week i have to type a million words to explain myself in place of the pix.

2. monday will be my first attempt at escaping the mirage called khartoum. i managed to get a ticket for 3 class (i.e. the cattle class) on the world's slowest train. no a/c. no diner car. sleeping sitting up. i'm going to treat it like a big picnic at bowness park. in 36 to 50 hours, theoretically, i should arrive at wadi halfa, a frontier town on the southern tip of lake nasser. there i take a 16 hr. cruise up the lake (i.e. the nile dammed) to aswan, egypt.

3. they ain't got beer here, but someone did offer me hashish though. go figure...

4. update: there was a break in the heat spell today. the sun was blocked by a massive sandstorm. there is a god. Allah.

5. it took me 5 hrs. yesterday to purchase the train/boat tix. today, it took me 5 hrs. to be registered as a foreign alien. for the latter, it was 44 USD to tell them i'm an alien...

6. i'm hiding in this internet cafe b/c they have great a/c.