Northern Sudan, Day 295

Mazar very kindly puts us up for the night in his Wadi Halfa compound in Northern Sudan. The privacy and security are delightful (one of the many things you have to be conscious about when traveling as a backpacker is personal security and the security of your possessions. Expensive hotels and private residences alleviates that underlying tension – at least temporarily). Unlike the fancy hotel we dip into occasionally, Mazar’s home does not have air-conditioning and the compound is cooler at night than the bedrooms so Christi and I literally carry the beds outside and sleep under the stars. Now this is what I call camping.

By the time we awake at 7 am, Mazar has already left in another attempt to register our passports. While I appreciate the gesture, I’d still like to know whether the program that Christi and I planned with Midhat is confirmed and when we will begin. To be honest Christi and I are a little concerned about the heat. Traveling in Northern Sudan at this time of year (May) is complicated by the fact the temperatures are the hottest of the entire year (in excess of 100^oF every day for weeks on end – and that’s in the shade with no air-conditioning). Initially, Christi and I had planned a more extensive and leisurely exploration of the country, but the oppressive heat has changed all that. Now we’ll resort to our tried and trusted method when dealing with difficult situations: throwing money at the problem. This solution is getting harder to do, I have to say, as our savings dwindle. But the alternative is cramped, rickety buses in savage heat, which does not bear thinking about. Trouble is we can’t contact Midhat to confirm our program. And much as I’m enjoying the hospitality shown to us by Mazar, Christi and I should prefer to be on the road.

When Midhat does call there are problems. We have hired a Toyota Land Cruiser and driver (as it turns out the Landcruiser in which Mazar met us at the port yesterday) for four days to visit a few of the top tourist sites in the country. However, Midhat now says our 4-day program is in reality six since we have to pay for the Land Cruiser to be driven up from Khartoum and the day (yesterday) where it remained idle outside Mazar’s house. Fuel costs are US$50 per day, although we are being charged $100 to bring the car up from Khartoum. Daily car rental is a whopping US$145. This is definitely not what we agreed. Midhat led us to believe he had a vehicle, not that he would simply rent one – I could do that. Midhat complains that we should have called him (we explain that we tried but couldn’t get through and so emailed instead. Midhat says he never received that email. How convenient). We argue back and forth and compromise on 4 days at US $145 +$100 fuel + $90 for registering our passport with the Interior Ministry.

Mazar says that if we hustle we can still make it to the Northern Sudanese town of Karima tonight, some 600 km away to the south. We pack our bags in the back of the Land Cruiser, which is already full of camping equipment that we plan to use tonight because camping in the desert is cheaper than a hotel. Technically we’ll be doing the sleeping out under the stars in Sahara thing again, but we’re only agreeing to this to save money. We finally leave Wadi Halfa at noon on a brand new road with virtually no traffic, making our progress swift and sure.

Our driver, Abdul, who appears from nowhere speaks a little English, but most of the journey is made in silence. Both Christi and I are content to watch the desert scenery slip by. It’s not particularly exciting desert either: slag heap after slag heap as if the detritus of the world had been dumped in the Sudan waiting to be recycled. The most pleasurable aspect to all this is that we are hermetically sealed in a temperature controlled environment. So while the world outside blisters, Christi and I are perfectly comfortable.

Eventually we reach the Nile and the transformation from dull lifeless desert to rich verdant cultivation is instantaneous, if tenuous. Here in Northern Sudan, the strip of fertile land on either side of the Nile is about the same size as Brazilian bikini wax. And if that analogy was not entertaining enough, here’s an interesting observation: during our travels through West Africa, mud mosques – also known as Sudanese style mosques – were a common sight. Yet here in Sudan, there are (so far) no mud mosques at all. Instead we see elegantly carved, brightly colored mosques with tall, slender minarets. What gives?

We reach Karima at 6pm and Abdul insists we visit the Jebel Barkal Mountain and ruins now rather that tomorrow morning. That was not how the program was set up so it’s back on the phone to Mazar. In the end we compromise: we’ll visit tonight and tomorrow. There are 4 things to see in this area. First the best-preserved pyramids in the country (known as the royal cemetery of the Napatan Kings). Second, the Temple of Amun (built originally by Tutmosis III in the 15th century BC and expanded by the Kushites in the 8th century BC. The Kushites went on to found the 25th [or Nubian] Pharaonic dynasty based in ancient Thebes [modern Luxor]). Third, the Temple of Mut (dedicated to the Egyptian sky goddess and not the dog) and fourth Jebel Barkal itself – a massive sandstone butte that dominates the area providing great views over Karima and the Nile. I scramble to the top of the butte in 20 sweaty minutes to catch the sunset (Christi sensibly forgoes that idea). This is a popular climb tourist spot for the local Sudanese and they are mightily surprised to see a Western tourist up there. I am peppered with questions about my life and my wife. The locals are fascinated by everything I say and do and at this point that means photographing the area.

Later we pop into the town of Karima briefly for a cheap and pretty soulless dinner before returning to the desert to find a suitable camping spot. This is anywhere basically. Unfortunately neither Abdul nor Christi and I can figure out the camping equipment so we are stuck with yet another warm night in the Sahara in complete solitude and staring up at a billion stars. Well someone’s got to do it.