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.
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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