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.
