Now, about that wedding …

I had planned to balance the funerial tone of the last post (even THAT is a rather sombre phrase, I notice) with a more upbeat piece about Sudanese weddings, as I was supposed to attend one a couple of weeks ago. Sadly other things got in the way, and the event passed without me being there, but the subject of Sudanese weddings is still a good one to talk about.

The Sudanese love weddings. There is a wedding every day somewhere in Khartoum, except during the fasting month of Ramadan. I know this because I live very close to a photo studio where on average six or seven parties turn up every evening from just after sunset for the official portraits to be taken.

And then there is the wedding procession – a series of cars, many adorned with artificial flowers and ribbons, hazard lights flashing, parping their horns to the traditional tune of “parp, parp, parp-parp-parp”, while groups of women relatives let out the famous “lagarid”, or celebration cry.

The bride and groom will sometimes be just visible behind the darkened glass, smothered in more bouquets of flowers, he in his smartest suit and she often in a very western-style white wedding gown and further beautified with henna on hands, arms and feet.

A female friend who was once invited to the bride’s preparations a week before her wedding indicated that the henna may be found in some other places, less visible to the general public, but we will go no further down that track.

I went to an amazing Sudanese wedding last year – admittedly a Coptic (orthododox Christian) gathering, so perhaps not the best example. But having walked into a banqueting hall the size of a soccer pitch and taken 20 minutes to find my friends amidst all the guests, I believe its fairly typical of most weddings here.

The bride and groom spent the whole evening (which starts around 9 p.m. and goes on until the small hours of the morning) seated on matching thrones, six foot up, overlooking the party-goers and somehow maintaining broad smiles throughout; although had places been exchanged I would have seen my smile wear off pretty quickly – I didn’t see any food get near the happy couple the whole night, and all the fun was with the crazy dancing going on at the other side of the hall.

Sudanese weddings are not spectator sports. You have to get stuck in, although I am yet to master the swaying dance with high-arm finger clicking. Dancing is often thrown in at official ceremonies, including more formal affairs alongside government representatives, Ambassadors and the like – nothing beats watching your European boss trying to keep up with the natural rythmn of his Sudanese counterpart. It’s like watching your favourite but totally un-selfconscious uncle strutting his stuff at your wedding.

And we are back at weddings again. I should find out just how much an average wedding costs, as it really is big business. I also saw the first stretch limo pull up outside the next door photo studio earlier in the year, so the gimmicks are now being added (along I suspect with the price).

But it’s nice to see how these events truly are a central part of Sudan’s culture of hospitality and warmth – from the sheer number of guests to the colours and sounds that accompany them.  Ihave lost count of the number of invitations I have received from people I have perhaps only met once since being here, to attend a daughter’s or son’s wedding. Now if I could just perfect that finger-clicking, I might show up at a few more …..

One wedding and a funeral…

I haven’t been writing for the last few weeks, mainly because I took some annual leave and escaped the growing heat of Khartoum. Travelling out, and then back, I noticed – not for the first time – the disproportionately large number of passengers on international flights from Sudan who appear to suffer from some sort of disability or illness; many families save up what they can to seek treatment for loved ones overseas, usually in Cairo, Dubai or Amman – all just a few hours away, but light years into the future in terms of healthcare it would appear.

The need for investment in modern healthcare services came home to me over the weekend. On Thursday evening, I attended a gala night here in Khartoum, raising money for a new children’s medical centre specialising in diabetes. As the raffle tickets went around the table, the organizer announced that after prolonged delays, construction of the new centre was about to begin – an announcement met with loud cheering from many in the audience who had clearly been working to raise funds for the centre for a frustratingly long time.  Such delays in construction and operation of new facilities would seem to be common – another good Sudanese friend was telling me recently of how a doctor had returned from one of the Gulf States to voluntarily fund and staff a centre of excellence for child cancers, only to be confronted by red tape and bureaucratic delays.

The cost of constraints on specialist healthcare in countries like Sudan is a very human one. On Saturday, someone I know passed away from a complicated neurological condition. Like so many Sudanese with disposable funds, he had sought treatment overseas – sadly with no success. But the stress for him and his family of repeated air trips to foreign countries for treatment must have been considerable while he was alive.

The economic sanctions, and other restrictions imposed on Sudan in terms of international investment, probably do not help alleviate the situation. I remain to be convinced that such restrictions anywhere in the world do little more than harm the ordinary people – amongst whom the lucky ones may save up for a return ticket to Jordan or Egypt when they need specialist medical care.

For others, they can rely only on the dedication and good intentions of those professionals who choose to stay and work in Sudan, despite the challenges – professionals like another Sudanese friend here, who travelled recently to South Asia at his own expense, to learn more about alternative medicine from a renowned expert he happened to meet during a seminar in Khartoum.

Here’s hoping that I take my annual leave in the future on a ‘plane that is not full of the sick and frail.

As for the wedding … more of that shortly.

Dreft and taxes….

I was collecting someone from Khartoum International Airport last week, and as always I misjudged how long it would take for her to come through immigration and baggage claim, so had half an hour to wait outside by the arrivals terminal – good people-watching time.

I always find it fascinating, watching people at airports as they await their arriving passengers. The family group clutching flowers, the office manager wearing his best suit and looking nervous before the regional director walks through the doors, the drivers holding handwritten signs with unusual names and looking slightly bored as they await their umpteenth arrival of the day … it’s such a mixed bag of humanity.

One of the biggest complaints from non-Muslim passengers coming in and out of Khartoum Airport is of course the lack of alcohol in the Duty Free store. But there is a Duty Free store … both on departure and arrival.

Heading out, and you can pick up all sorts of local artwork and ornaments, leather goods and jewellry.

Coming into Sudan, and the choice is a little more limited. In fact, you can basically buy one thing – laundry powder.

I have walked past the Arrivals Duty Free shop here many times, and glimpsed the rows and rows of Ariel, Dreft, Lux and other brand names, but I didn’t seriously think people actually bought it – until last week, as I bided my time outside the airport, and suddenly saw a man pushing a trolley full of laundry powder out of the terminal. He had no other luggage, just the cartons. Piled high, as he headed off to the car park.

My Sudanese friends tell me that for some reason – and I am desperate to find it out – laundry powder is heavily taxed in Sudan. I have been asked before to buy the stuff for friends inside the country, whenever I come back from holiday or business travel.

I know that imported cars are expensive due to taxation, that generators and electrical goods carry a hefty surcharge, but laundry detergent ?

Suggestions on a postcard …

Windy city …

When I left the office last night, the sky had turned an interesting shade of orange. The north of Sudan is renowned for its sandstorms – or haboobs – that come from nowhere and literally black (or rather brown) out everything in sight.  For several hours the wind rises in the electricity wires, and barrels down the narrow tracks between houses and apartment blocks, bringing it with dust that seeps under doors, around window frames and fills the air like a mist.

Last night’s storm was pretty mild, leaving a fine coating of sand on everything this morning, but later in the year they can become real monsters, as you can see here. A South African I met here last year told me how he had always dismissed the talk of haboobs as scare-mongering … what’s a bit of wind and sand, he had always said. Then he found himself walking in the street one evening as the wall of sand appeared literally around a corner … and with it disappeared his bravado, as he shamelessly ran for cover.

Of course, other storms have been brewing here in recent days – more of a political nature – but for those who know me, rest assured we are all well and life is going on as best it can.

Many Sudanese friends have reminded me in the last week that ultimately this is a land of hospitality and friendship towards visitors, and hopefully that will not change at grassroots level. Just as the haboob is a never-changing characteristic of life here, so I hope will be the genuine friendship and warmth I have found in so many Sudanese I have encountered.

And no, I am not going to comment on the cause of these other storms .. plenty of other people have been doing that, and my voice won’t add much to the debate.

One man went to mow …

Only another acre to go...

Last Saturday I went to a soccer match in Juba, in Southern Sudan. In fact, I went to several soccer matches as this was the grand tournament between several Juba-based youth groups, part of an initiative by the non-governmental organization Confident Children out of Conflict (read more about their work here) which aims to help vulnerable young people in post-conflict Southern Sudan to re-adjust to peacetime.

Soccer is used in many such countries to help young people come together and interact; often helping bring different tribal groups together, or focusing on the value of team work, educating young people about social standards, leadership and tolerance – I have even seen information sessions about the dangers of landmines being held during the half-time break.

The football project in Juba is an ambitious one – over the last two months, bi-monthly training sessions led by CCC and the Juba Football Association have grown from including 40 players to 154. A total of 55 teams took part in last Saturday’s tournament, and now the organization aims to expand its work into girls’ volleyball and soccer programmes.

But back to the action for now; even at 9.30 in the morning (when the first whistle sounded to get the day off and running) the heat and humidity takes its toll – and yet the soccer was end to end stuff, with no let up from the teams. The first match ended in a penalty shootout, the second was a clear win for (if I remember rightly) the Red Devils – and a kilometre or so away, another dusty pitch was hosting a second group of matches.

Football boots optional

But the energy and commitment of the players can be expected – there was serious honour at stake here. What I was most impressed with, as I sweated on the touchline, was the guy who had to mow the pitch before the first match. Armed only with a single household-size diesel lawnmower, he valianty charged through foot high grass from one side of the pitch to the other. After an hour he was only half done, and the first game got underway amidst the remaining weeds. It wasn’t Wembley for sure, but that didn’t put off the players. And Wembley probably have at least a second mower ….

There’ll be no S.W.A.L.K in Khartoum please

This time last year, a colleague told me that Valentine’s Day was taboo in Khartoum, and that if I wanted to celebrate with my loved one, I should do so discretely so as not to cause offence. Well apparently the concept of Valentine’s Day has gathered strength, and not to everyone’s delight, as this week senior Muslim clerics in Sudan issued a stern warning about the day’s corrupting influence. 

Personally, I always felt that if you wanted to show your adoration for someone close to you, you could do that every day of the year. But that’s probably because I usually forget February 14th and need a good cover-story.

Down here in Juba, Valentine’s Day is very much on the social calendar. Most restaurants I have seen this week have been proudly advertising their plans for Saturday night – including one Ethiopian eatery that offered “a romantic dinner, at candlelit tables, with chocolates, and all in a reddish light”. I am not sure what the latter entailed, but it would have got me there just to find out.

Sadly I will be returning on Saturday to a more loveless Khartoum. Anyway, as I said, it’s more meaningful to say ‘I love you’ every day, isn’t it? Please back me up on this one …

And if you want to be a little more cryptic it appears there is a whole range of little notes you could stick in your Valentine’s card, if some of these are anything to go by.  Just don’t go posting them in Khartoum this year.

Rather poor timing…

Having seen the overnight news from New York State, the subject of the last post was rather unfortunate….

“Death is not extinguishing the light; it is only putting out the lamp because the dawn has come.” – Rabindranath Tagore

What goes up .. please stay up!

I flew from Khartoum to Juba, in Southern Sudan yesterday. It’s a four and a half hour trip, if you are travelling on a private twin-prop aircraft on a roundabout route - three times as long as the commercial jet carriers take, but my last experience with a domestic carrier was not a particularly pleasant one. I am a nervous flier at the best of times, and Sudan has had a few unfortunate moments in its aviation history, both for passenger and cargo flights. 

One thing that has seemed to improve has been security at the airport, not least after one incident last year saw passengers taking a detour to neighbouring Libya. X-ray checks at the international airport are fairly rigourous, and on one non-Sudanese airline you actually have to identify your checked luggage out on the tarmac next to the plane before they will load it (not easy at 3am), and then find yourself subjected to a thorough frisking by the airline’s own air marshalls. Even on domestic flights, it is not uncommon to have batteries, matches and lighters removed from your person or carry-on before you can enter the departure lounge.

But the fact remains that the domestic fleet is not the most modern. The flight that ended my own travels on local airlines here was to Juba as well .. one and a half hours in a well-used Boeing 737 that sounded like a Harley Davidson without a muffler, even within the sound-proofed cabin. As we made our final approach into Juba, buffeted by the rising hot air, there was a sudden roar from the engines and we pulled up into a go-around, accompanied by a lot of juddering and sudden shaking of the airframe. Levelling out a pretty low altitude, we made a sweeping turn and rushed back in again, this time making it safely onto the tarmac. Amazingly, as we were still repositioning for the new approach, I could see fellow passengers happily chatting on their cellphones, no doubt to friends and relatives on the ground below who were wondering why the first landing had been aborted. 

To be fair, given the age of the domestic aircraft here, and the rough terrain, and intense heat that must all have an impact on flying conditions, tens of flights dart in and out of Sudan’s domestic airports each day without incident. I am just a lousy passenger.

There was however, one thing that kept me hopeful during that ten minutes of silent panic that rose inside me above Juba last year… I was in the middle seat of a row of three; on one side was a Muslim from the north of Sudan, complete with prayer cap, on the other a Christian minister from the south. As the plane screamed skywards, I noticed that both were fervently praying. Being something of an atheist myself,  I rather hoped that if the worst happened, all the bases were being covered.

And not a cowboy in sight ..

Tourism is far from dead in Sudan, it appears, as today’s Khartoum Monitor - an English language daily – reports on the visit of a group of cyclists undertaking a 12,000 kilometre ride from Cairo to Cape Town.

The group is being hosted while in Sudan with the local YMCA, having cycled for 19 days across the northern deserts. The Monitor reported on a number of activities arranged by the YMCA for the group, including a cruise on the River Nile, a visit to the home of Khalifa Abdullah (the man who unsuccessfully stood up to Kitchener and British Imperial Rule in 1899) – sadly closed on the day of their visit – and more bizarrely an excursion to distribute mosquito nets to children in the neighbouring city of Omdurman.

It all seemed very jolly, nice bit of culture thrown in with “doing good”, and hats off to the adventurers for their plucky trek (having driven through the northern desert, I could never imagine how hard it must be to cycle through it!). We need more people like this coming to Sudan.

However the report – which really does its best to show that there are opportunities for tourism in Sudan – lost some of its edge by including a prominent photo of four of the visitors recreating the YMCA letters – a la 1990s student disco night. And of course that’s when the mind springs immediately to the Cowboy, Native American, Leather Cap Man, Policeman, Construction Worker and Navy Officer … or the closing credits of “Down Periscope”.

The dangers of athletics

A friend emailed me today, having read this nascent blog, and said “Not bad, but tell us something about sport in Khartoum. Are you doing any?” Now anyone who knows me will realise that me and exercise go together about as well as Sarah Palin and an understanding of foreign affairs, but there are other good reasons to be a couch potato in Khartoum…. as this posting from someone I know here underlines.