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12 April 2011 Ferry from Aswan - arrive in Wadi Halfa, Sudan

5/3/2011

1 Comment

 
12 April, 2011   Ferry from Aswan arrive in Wadi Halfa, Sudan

We are on the ferry and still extremely thankful for our cabin! Willie and I slept on the bottom and Andrej on the top bunk bed. Hugo went out the evening before to visit with the Dutch overland-biker couple and he was sleeping on the floor when I woke up! Willie leaves the cabin to take pictures of the sunrise from the deck and I sit in the porthole of our cabin. It is beautiful on the water with a vast desert lining both sides of the Nile. I am so happy that I got up early, because I recognize the outline of Abu Simbel in the distance – an interesting angle to view the temples from and not one everyone is able to see. Sammie is in the forefront of our minds and all of us pray and hope he is well.

We figured after a few Arabic announcements that we are close to the end of our trip. I look out the porthole and there is nothing but a half-submerged jetty on which several people are waiting and calling out greetings to friends on the deck. Andrej comes back to the cabin to tell us that we need to report to immigration officers for an interview in the dining hall. We take our stuff and fight our way through hordes of people trying to leave the ferry. A guy, called Magdy greets us when we enter the dining hall, makes us sit and hands us forms to fill out. Willie quickly realizes that this is a “fixer” – an occupation I did not know of until we started our border crossing in Egypt where Barakka was our “fixer”. Once bitten, twice shy as the saying goes, so Willie settles a price with the fixer before he starts the process, because they have all kind of extra services that they add which significantly hikes up the price. The difficult thing for non-Arabic Western foreigners is that it is really difficult to go through the process without someone’s guidance. It is probably not that difficult, but confusing: you go here to get a stamp; there to pay something; and another place to for something else. Fixers know all the people, have contacts and can really save you hours, if not days, but at a price. You therefore feel very vulnerable as they lead you around like a dog on a leash. Once you know what fixing means you can try to negotiate prior to the start of the process to not get stuck with an unreasonable payment. Suddenly a second “fixer” appears who tries to tell us what to do and when Willie told him we have a fixer, he backs off and informs us that he is Magdy’s cousin! Everyone is everyone’s cousin in the Middle East. Magdy’s cousin works in Egypt and in Khartoum and wherever we would like someone to fix something for us.

We finally leave the ferry with our fixer leading. I take a photo and he quickly tells me that it is not allowed to take any photos at the border or in the Wadi Halfa area. We need a photo permit. Ok! It is really hot as we pile into the waiting bus which takes us to customs. Because of Magdy, no one checks our bags and we receive an orange sticker that all is fine. Another mini-bus, which will take us to Wadi Halfa town, is waiting for us on the outside of the customs building. We are like sheep being led to be slaughtered. We have no idea what we are doing and we just blindly follow all Magdy’s instructions.

After a 15 minutes hot desert road trip we arrive in Wadi Halfa town: brown buildings sitting in dust and sand – no vegetation, no trees, no shade…Our bus stops in front of a building which Magdy tells us is a hotel: Defintood – the only one in town that has rooms available. All the others are full, because another ferry is leaving the next day for Aswan, Egypt. A noisy, clanking metal door opens our room and 2 tired-spring-mattress beds covered with a worn bottom sheet, blanket and pillow greet us; a concrete floor; semi-retired thatched roof boasting big open-aired spaces; a light wrapped in cobwebs and a fan.  A plastic chair with a broken back completes the interior decoration. The room is stuffy and hot. We turn on the fan – only the whirring-fast speed works and dust and cobwebs spin all over the room.

The “bathrooms” are outside – pit-latrines, no running water; buckets in the shower which you have to get filled if you would like to wash. I immediately realize that will not be what I will do, because a pit-latrine in above 40 degree temperatures develops a foul-smelling life of its own. I will frequent the toilet when absolutely necessary.

Exhausted, hot and suffering from mild Sudanese entry shock we drop on our beds. It is interesting how an experience like this draws people of other-than-Arabic-tongue together, because gathered in our room are the Dutch couple, a guy from Korea and another from Japan – all sharing our different destinations, and experiences – people we’ve seen and met during the course of crossing borders.

Sammie…?

It is hot…and getting hotter!

It is all so strange – we feel so out of place, not really knowing what to do, so all we do is camp on our beds. Andrej and Hugo venture out, after building up enough courage and comes back like the dove in the ark with cold drinks and a report of a friendly store-owner who did not try to rip them off.  A few hours later Willie and I go for a walk. Silent, but curious eyes follow us everywhere. We find the friendly corner store owner, buy more cold drinks, bread and cheese which we eat in the room.

It is getting hot and hotter…!

7pm, Our newly made Dutch friends and us walk to what we’ve been told is a restaurant. It is full of men, but we are greeted warmly and a special table and chairs are arranged for us. The friendly restaurant owner can barely speak English, but we managed to order chicken and some kind of a meat dish, with bread.

A Swiss guy, on his way back to Switzerland, after working in Tanzania for more than 5 years join our group and we have a very interesting discussion about Africa’s complexities, beauties and fascinations. None of us are any wiser, no problems are solved, but we’ve made another friend, killed time while the weather cooled down and are ready to retire not knowing what the day of tomorrow will bring.


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12 April, 2011 Ferry from Aswan arrive in Wadi Halfa, Sudan

5/3/2011

1 Comment

 
12 April, 2011   Ferry from Aswan arrive in Wadi Halfa, Sudan

We are on the ferry and still extremely thankful for our cabin! Willie and I slept on the bottom and Andrej on the top bunk bed. Hugo went out the evening before to visit with the Dutch overland-biker couple and he was sleeping on the floor when I woke up! Willie leaves the cabin to take pictures of the sunrise from the deck and I sit in the porthole of our cabin. It is beautiful on the water with a vast desert lining both sides of the Nile. I am so happy that I got up early, because I recognize the outline of Abu Simbel in the distance – an interesting angle to view the temples from and not one everyone is able to see. Sammie is in the forefront of our minds and all of us pray and hope he is well.

We figured after a few Arabic announcements that we are close to the end of our trip. I look out the porthole and there is nothing but a half-submerged jetty on which several people are waiting and calling out greetings to friends on the deck. Andrej comes back to the cabin to tell us that we need to report to immigration officers for an interview in the dining hall. We take our stuff and fight our way through hordes of people trying to leave the ferry. A guy, called Magdy greets us when we enter the dining hall, makes us sit and hands us forms to fill out. Willie quickly realizes that this is a “fixer” – an occupation I did not know of until we started our border crossing in Egypt where Barakka was our “fixer”. Once bitten, twice shy as the saying goes, so Willie settles a price with the fixer before he starts the process, because they have all kind of extra services that they add which significantly hikes up the price. The difficult thing for non-Arabic Western foreigners is that it is really difficult to go through the process without someone’s guidance. It is probably not that difficult, but confusing: you go here to get a stamp; there to pay something; and another place to for something else. Fixers know all the people, have contacts and can really save you hours, if not days, but at a price. You therefore feel very vulnerable as they lead you around like a dog on a leash. Once you know what fixing means you can try to negotiate prior to the start of the process to not get stuck with an unreasonable payment. Suddenly a second “fixer” appears who tries to tell us what to do and when Willie told him we have a fixer, he backs off and informs us that he is Magdy’s cousin! Everyone is everyone’s cousin in the Middle East. Magdy’s cousin works in Egypt and in Khartoum and wherever we would like someone to fix something for us.

We finally leave the ferry with our fixer leading. I take a photo and he quickly tells me that it is not allowed to take any photos at the border or in the Wadi Halfa area. We need a photo permit. Ok! It is really hot as we pile into the waiting bus which takes us to customs. Because of Magdy, no one checks our bags and we receive an orange sticker that all is fine. Another mini-bus, which will take us to Wadi Halfa town, is waiting for us on the outside of the customs building. We are like sheep being led to be slaughtered. We have no idea what we are doing and we just blindly follow all Magdy’s instructions.

After a 15 minutes hot desert road trip we arrive in Wadi Halfa town: brown buildings sitting in dust and sand – no vegetation, no trees, no shade…Our bus stops in front of a building which Magdy tells us is a hotel: Defintood – the only one in town that has rooms available. All the others are full, because another ferry is leaving the next day for Aswan, Egypt. A noisy, clanking metal door opens our room and 2 tired-spring-mattress beds covered with a worn bottom sheet, blanket and pillow greet us; a concrete floor; semi-retired thatched roof boasting big open-aired spaces; a light wrapped in cobwebs and a fan.  A plastic chair with a broken back completes the interior decoration. The room is stuffy and hot. We turn on the fan – only the whirring-fast speed works and dust and cobwebs spin all over the room.

The “bathrooms” are outside – pit-latrines, no running water; buckets in the shower which you have to get filled if you would like to wash. I immediately realize that will not be what I will do, because a pit-latrine in above 40 degree temperatures develops a foul-smelling life of its own. I will frequent the toilet when absolutely necessary.

Exhausted, hot and suffering from mild Sudanese entry shock we drop on our beds. It is interesting how an experience like this draws people of other-than-Arabic-tongue together, because gathered in our room are the Dutch couple, a guy from Korea and another from Japan – all sharing our different destinations, and experiences – people we’ve seen and met during the course of crossing borders.

Sammie…?

It is hot…and getting hotter!

It is all so strange – we feel so out of place, not really knowing what to do, so all we do is camp on our beds. Andrej and Hugo venture out, after building up enough courage and comes back like the dove in the ark with cold drinks and a report of a friendly store-owner who did not try to rip them off.  A few hours later Willie and I go for a walk. Silent, but curious eyes follow us everywhere. We find the friendly corner store owner, buy more cold drinks, bread and cheese which we eat in the room.

It is getting hot and hotter…!

7pm, Our newly made Dutch friends and us walk to what we’ve been told is a restaurant. It is full of men, but we are greeted warmly and a special table and chairs are arranged for us. The friendly restaurant owner can barely speak English, but we managed to order chicken and some kind of a meat dish, with bread.

A Swiss guy, on his way back to Switzerland, after working in Tanzania for more than 5 years join our group and we have a very interesting discussion about Africa’s complexities, beauties and fascinations. None of us are any wiser, no problems are solved, but we’ve made another friend, killed time while the weather cooled down and are ready to retire not knowing what the day of tomorrow will bring.

1 Comment

11 April, Monday Ferry Frenzy

5/3/2011

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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.  

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    Author

    Caren

    "There is something about safari life that makes you forget all your sorrows and feel as if you had drunk half a bottle of champagne - bubbling over with heartfelt gratitude for being alive. One only feels really free when one can go in whatever direction one pleases over the plains, to get to the river at sundown and pitch one's camp, with the knowledge that one can fall asleep
    beneath other trees, with another view before one, the next night." -
     Karen Blixen - Out of Africa, Kenya
    'Of course as I am reading this, I know that you DO get your visas and the container DOES get released, but oh the internal struggle we face even though we should trust (as Hugo does) that God has His hands on all things and is constantly taking care of us.'


    From a Friend:
    :) Crazy to think that we are ALL made of blood, bone and water yet we speak in so many tongues that getting along together becomes a massive task within itself.

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