11 April, Monday Ferry Frenzy
Finally, the long awaited day – we are leaving for Sudan. Our biggest uncertainty: Sammie. The captain of the barge has to give his permission that Sammie can stay on the barge. A few months ago, on the barge, a dog went ballistic, bit the crew, chased them around that some of them jumped into the crocodile infested water. The barge company, after this incident, banned the transport of dogs, so we are depended on the goodwill of the captain. Our day starts at 8:30 when we have to be at the traffic department to meet a certain Yussuf. He will accompany us to the port where our Egypt license plates will be exchanged for our original one.
Traffic department: No Yussuf…! Willie calls Salah at 9 and he tells Willie to wait until someone comes. The traffic officer arrives at 10 and we leave for the port with 2 cars and 2 motorbike travelers, Dave and Marly, from Belgium.
We join a line of trucks loaded with mountains of baggage. There are people everywhere: women and men hauling, carrying, lugging, pushing and shoving around oversized boxes, bags, trunks, any possible object that can become a container for transport.
We finally meet Barakka, our ‘fixer’ – whom Willie has spoken with several times. He is an open-faced, friendly young man and appoints himself as our leaving-Egypt-for-Sudan-guide. While waiting Salah arrives and inform Dutch travelers that there is no place on the barge. All of us are disappointed and we leave them with their 2 little girls weeping bitterly. That means another week in Aswan – do we not know that feeling!
Barakka motions Willie to follow him and he leads us through the guarded gate and we are now finally within the port property where we are told to wait – this time for the vet. A distinguished middle-aged man arrives; he meets Sammie, looks over his papers and signs off on some kind of a document.
Another uniformed officer arrives – this time the custom official. This can become a sticky, lengthy step to pass, but Barakka has informed Willie in advance that the officer needs a little “something” and that will save us unpacking the car. Willie gave him the money when he met him, and Barakka tells him afterwards that it really should have been done in a way that no one knows! We are obviously not skilled in the ways of bribing.
Next stop: the ‘travel hole’ is what the sign says. When I saw that I thought this is quite a different name – almost brings a smile – only to find out later when I saw another sign that reads ‘passport hole’ that it really was meant to be ‘travel hall’ and ‘passport hall.’ This really brought a smile!
Barakka, Willie, the travel officer and Hugo (for moral support) now proceed to the customs office while Andrej stays with Sammie and me. Around us oversized baggage are still in motion as their owners are hauling it to the ferry.
Barakka and his procession returns after another step has been completed and Willie’s wallet one step more depleted. All of us now follow Barakka to the travel hole. The Belgian motor bikers are with us and we’ve quickly become comrades-in-transit-to-Sudan. We are marched into an office where the cars and motorbikes need to be deregistered. ½ hour into the process the chief officer looks up and informs Willie that our car is 2 days out of its allowed time period – that means only one thing: more money…yes, 300 Egyptian pounds. Willie is upset, because he worked out precisely how much money he will need and now he does not have enough. Generously the Belgians lend him the money. The barge company manager arrives and tells Barakka that they need the car and the bikes as in now. This will also be the time that we will meet the captain and negotiate about Sammie. Our procession, led by Barakka, leaves for the barge. The day is getting hotter, the luggage-hauling fever more intense, and our emotions more frayed. We arrive at the barge just as they are loading ancient looking tractors on a very primitive looking barge. This is what will transport our car, dog, bikes to Sudan?
The guys help to push start the last tractor whilst Barakka is already negotiating our Sammie situation with a grey-haired, brown-robed, kind looking man – the captain. My head is a jumble of plead prayers as I watch Barakka. Our travel group reminds me of deer caught in head light. We are smack in the middle of the Egyptian-border-crossing-pulping-machine: the dark place – no light behind – no light ahead – the place of no return. The movement is slow, steady and purposeful, ‘forwards, traveler soldiers…’as my pinball thoughts strike some familiar song.
Barakka motions for Willie to drive the car on the barge. We jam it in between the Khartoum tractor museum exhibit and the side of the barge. We introduce Sammie to the friendly, very Arabic captain who is willing to take Sammie on the barge. One of our biggest fears is the heat and the captain seems to understand that. Everything happens so fast; No goodbyes, because Barakka wants us to move on; we leave Sammie tied to his leash next to the car and I manage to take one ?last photo. We fill out forms at the passport hole, buy stamps and have our passports stamped.
Barakka pulls his line of travelers to another office where we show our ferry tickets and exchange a green meal ticket for a white one? Hugo and Barakka lock hands after every successful completion of our de-Egypting status; he continues to assure us that we will reach our final destination, the ferry.
My respect and admiration for Barakka increase by the minute and I have no idea how we would have done it without him. The last step: Barakka carefully steers us through all obstacles, luggage and mayhem. Everybody knows him and greets him. His friendly smile, respect for others and authority have opened many difficult gates and perhaps hearts for us.
We are sucked into a whirlpool of yelling, luggage heaving, lifting, dragging shoving humanity – deeper and deeper …through a square opening, up the stairs. I hold on to Andrej’s backpack; Willie behind me and Hugo, like a reporter, is giving running commentary as he videos our snail progress. We finally find ourselves in a narrow passage and a ferry official opens door 10 for us – our cabin: a basic 2 bunk bed, but better than the best on a luxury cruise ship. We have a place to store our bags, 2 beds and a door that we can close and we discover a working air-conditioner and electric socket.
The alternative, if we did not have the cabin, would have been out on the open deck with 200 people and their luggage. Someone would have to stay with our stuff all the time, because our friend from the Netherlands was robbed before the ferry even left when he left his bag for a few minutes to go to the bathroom. Our British friends took the deck option and all of them became sick with stomach and flu problems. Yes, for our cabin.
Andrej comes back to report that the men’s bathroom is delightful…?
Barakka comes back to check on us and to say goodbye. We exchange addresses and take pictures. Arabic announcements warn that the ferry is getting ready to leave. We can see the barge with our car on it, but there is no sign of Sammie. Hugo and Andrej are hungry and they exchanged their meal tickets for chicken and rice. Andrej takes me to the deck, but it is almost impossible to move (we have lost our fear) – you have to negotiate your way through people sleeping, sitting and standing in the alleyway and on the deck. Stacked luggage are everywhere…I am glad to be back in the privacy of our cabin where I can sit in the porthole and watch the shore and water.
Willie and I go down to eat and in exchange for our meal ticket we receive a tray with ‘foul’ (a traditional Egyptian dish), one boiled egg, white cheese and flat bread which you eat with your hands. We finish with a sweet cup of tea. Everything is different and strange, but not unbearable or even bad. It is riding a cultural wave that takes you to new depths, heights, sights and smells and the good thing in this case is that we have a place to retreat to and order you brain with all the stimuli input.
Finally, the long awaited day – we are leaving for Sudan. Our biggest uncertainty: Sammie. The captain of the barge has to give his permission that Sammie can stay on the barge. A few months ago, on the barge, a dog went ballistic, bit the crew, chased them around that some of them jumped into the crocodile infested water. The barge company, after this incident, banned the transport of dogs, so we are depended on the goodwill of the captain. Our day starts at 8:30 when we have to be at the traffic department to meet a certain Yussuf. He will accompany us to the port where our Egypt license plates will be exchanged for our original one.
Traffic department: No Yussuf…! Willie calls Salah at 9 and he tells Willie to wait until someone comes. The traffic officer arrives at 10 and we leave for the port with 2 cars and 2 motorbike travelers, Dave and Marly, from Belgium.
We join a line of trucks loaded with mountains of baggage. There are people everywhere: women and men hauling, carrying, lugging, pushing and shoving around oversized boxes, bags, trunks, any possible object that can become a container for transport.
We finally meet Barakka, our ‘fixer’ – whom Willie has spoken with several times. He is an open-faced, friendly young man and appoints himself as our leaving-Egypt-for-Sudan-guide. While waiting Salah arrives and inform Dutch travelers that there is no place on the barge. All of us are disappointed and we leave them with their 2 little girls weeping bitterly. That means another week in Aswan – do we not know that feeling!
Barakka motions Willie to follow him and he leads us through the guarded gate and we are now finally within the port property where we are told to wait – this time for the vet. A distinguished middle-aged man arrives; he meets Sammie, looks over his papers and signs off on some kind of a document.
Another uniformed officer arrives – this time the custom official. This can become a sticky, lengthy step to pass, but Barakka has informed Willie in advance that the officer needs a little “something” and that will save us unpacking the car. Willie gave him the money when he met him, and Barakka tells him afterwards that it really should have been done in a way that no one knows! We are obviously not skilled in the ways of bribing.
Next stop: the ‘travel hole’ is what the sign says. When I saw that I thought this is quite a different name – almost brings a smile – only to find out later when I saw another sign that reads ‘passport hole’ that it really was meant to be ‘travel hall’ and ‘passport hall.’ This really brought a smile!
Barakka, Willie, the travel officer and Hugo (for moral support) now proceed to the customs office while Andrej stays with Sammie and me. Around us oversized baggage are still in motion as their owners are hauling it to the ferry.
Barakka and his procession returns after another step has been completed and Willie’s wallet one step more depleted. All of us now follow Barakka to the travel hole. The Belgian motor bikers are with us and we’ve quickly become comrades-in-transit-to-Sudan. We are marched into an office where the cars and motorbikes need to be deregistered. ½ hour into the process the chief officer looks up and informs Willie that our car is 2 days out of its allowed time period – that means only one thing: more money…yes, 300 Egyptian pounds. Willie is upset, because he worked out precisely how much money he will need and now he does not have enough. Generously the Belgians lend him the money. The barge company manager arrives and tells Barakka that they need the car and the bikes as in now. This will also be the time that we will meet the captain and negotiate about Sammie. Our procession, led by Barakka, leaves for the barge. The day is getting hotter, the luggage-hauling fever more intense, and our emotions more frayed. We arrive at the barge just as they are loading ancient looking tractors on a very primitive looking barge. This is what will transport our car, dog, bikes to Sudan?
The guys help to push start the last tractor whilst Barakka is already negotiating our Sammie situation with a grey-haired, brown-robed, kind looking man – the captain. My head is a jumble of plead prayers as I watch Barakka. Our travel group reminds me of deer caught in head light. We are smack in the middle of the Egyptian-border-crossing-pulping-machine: the dark place – no light behind – no light ahead – the place of no return. The movement is slow, steady and purposeful, ‘forwards, traveler soldiers…’as my pinball thoughts strike some familiar song.
Barakka motions for Willie to drive the car on the barge. We jam it in between the Khartoum tractor museum exhibit and the side of the barge. We introduce Sammie to the friendly, very Arabic captain who is willing to take Sammie on the barge. One of our biggest fears is the heat and the captain seems to understand that. Everything happens so fast; No goodbyes, because Barakka wants us to move on; we leave Sammie tied to his leash next to the car and I manage to take one ?last photo. We fill out forms at the passport hole, buy stamps and have our passports stamped.
Barakka pulls his line of travelers to another office where we show our ferry tickets and exchange a green meal ticket for a white one? Hugo and Barakka lock hands after every successful completion of our de-Egypting status; he continues to assure us that we will reach our final destination, the ferry.
My respect and admiration for Barakka increase by the minute and I have no idea how we would have done it without him. The last step: Barakka carefully steers us through all obstacles, luggage and mayhem. Everybody knows him and greets him. His friendly smile, respect for others and authority have opened many difficult gates and perhaps hearts for us.
We are sucked into a whirlpool of yelling, luggage heaving, lifting, dragging shoving humanity – deeper and deeper …through a square opening, up the stairs. I hold on to Andrej’s backpack; Willie behind me and Hugo, like a reporter, is giving running commentary as he videos our snail progress. We finally find ourselves in a narrow passage and a ferry official opens door 10 for us – our cabin: a basic 2 bunk bed, but better than the best on a luxury cruise ship. We have a place to store our bags, 2 beds and a door that we can close and we discover a working air-conditioner and electric socket.
The alternative, if we did not have the cabin, would have been out on the open deck with 200 people and their luggage. Someone would have to stay with our stuff all the time, because our friend from the Netherlands was robbed before the ferry even left when he left his bag for a few minutes to go to the bathroom. Our British friends took the deck option and all of them became sick with stomach and flu problems. Yes, for our cabin.
Andrej comes back to report that the men’s bathroom is delightful…?
Barakka comes back to check on us and to say goodbye. We exchange addresses and take pictures. Arabic announcements warn that the ferry is getting ready to leave. We can see the barge with our car on it, but there is no sign of Sammie. Hugo and Andrej are hungry and they exchanged their meal tickets for chicken and rice. Andrej takes me to the deck, but it is almost impossible to move (we have lost our fear) – you have to negotiate your way through people sleeping, sitting and standing in the alleyway and on the deck. Stacked luggage are everywhere…I am glad to be back in the privacy of our cabin where I can sit in the porthole and watch the shore and water.
Willie and I go down to eat and in exchange for our meal ticket we receive a tray with ‘foul’ (a traditional Egyptian dish), one boiled egg, white cheese and flat bread which you eat with your hands. We finish with a sweet cup of tea. Everything is different and strange, but not unbearable or even bad. It is riding a cultural wave that takes you to new depths, heights, sights and smells and the good thing in this case is that we have a place to retreat to and order you brain with all the stimuli input.
RSS Feed
