The Adventures of Omar and Shakur

Nov 15th - 19th

The most ironic part of our walk to the desert highway was that we had seen a convoy of passenger buses crossing our path as we approached, however, when we finally reached the roadside, we no longer saw any and were left to flag down any other type of vehicle (i.e. pickup trucks, flatbed trucks and passenger vehicles). After around an hour in the scorching, unrelenting heat; a small hatchback pulled over and offered us a ride. We said we were heading to Atbara and the driver seemed to know the destination. There were already 3 other men in the car, but we still managed to sit quite comfortably in the small hatchback.

Around an hour later, the two other passengers took out their luggage and were dropped off at the side of the road. After another 45 minutes, we were nearing Atbara. Chris and I had decided that we would tip this kind man and as he let us off in Atbara, we offered him the Sudanese pounds which we deemed an appropriate tip. As he took the money, he counted it and asked us for more. It had turned out he was only giving rides to people who payed him, so we coughed-up what he had asked for and left the car.

The subsequent walk around Atbara left little to the imagination: the streets were absolutely littered with garbage and everyone in the city appeared to be quite surprised by our presence. Our futile attempts at finding a lokanda on our own culminated in us dejectedly hailing a rickshaw which brought us to the Nil Hotel.

The Nil hotel was more expensive than we had hoped, although it was well kept, had a television with English channels and a ventilation system that kept the room quite cool despite the staggering temperatures outside. We were only planning on staying one night, but our ensuing discussion with a bus station attendant revealed that we would be forced to stay an extra night because there were literally no buses heading for Karima the following day due to Eid. We therefore used the opportunity to relax, sleep-in and plan the rest of our stay in Sudan.

The following day we wandered the deserted streets in search of food, which actually turned out to much more difficult than we had thought, due to literally everyone enjoying plentiful feasts with their relatives and loved-ones. We did manage to find one restaurant which offered some tasty Arabic fare and spent the rest of our time chilling at our hotel.

When the buses did resume, we were sure to catch the first one leaving towards Karima. Upon our arrival, We asked the driver to drop us off at the Lonely Planet recommended lokanda, however, after knocking on the locked steel doors, we quickly realized that it too, was also closed due to Eid. A short walk led us to the main street where we saw a restaurant emblazoned with Sudanese flags. We entered and a man directed us to another lokanda, but stated that if it was closed, we could come back to the restaurant.

We found the other lokanda but they would not let us check-in until we registered at the nearest alien affairs office. These offices exist in every city, and all foreigners are required to check-in and leave important information with the officers stationed there. It is their way of keeping tabs on all foreigners within their borders.

After having checked-in, Chris and I decided that we didn't really want to stay at the sole lokanda available to us, instead we went back to the restaurant to see what the man could offer. As soon as we entered, he immediately sat us down and gave us some ful (beans in oil and tahini), roast lamb, and bread. He sat with us and we told him we had come from Khartoum and would be heading north to Wadi Halfa, to take the ferry to Egypt.

As soon as he heard we would be heading to Egypt, his excitement could not be contained. This man's name was Rami and he was originally from Cairo. For reasons still unbeknownst to me, he is working in Karima of all places, away from his wife and two young sons, who are still in Egypt. Rami's vocabulary in English probably totaled 10 words or so, still doubling our linguistic knowledge of Arabic. Nonetheless, within hours of signing, drawing and miming what we were trying to express, we actually seemed to understand each other.

The Sudanese are world-renowned for their hospitality and generosity: it is not uncommon for someone to pay for your bus fare, buy you a cup of shai or offer you some food from their plate; and these are complete strangers! Although Rami was Egyptian, I have never known anyone more generous than this sweet man. Although I know he was not well-off, he would vehemently refuse every offer Chris and I would make to give him money or pay for pretty much anything. When we were in the restaurant, every beverage and food item was at our disposal. The only thing Rami asked for was to pay for bottled water. I'm assuming because it probably wasn't very easy to come by. He even let us sleep on two cots in the back of the restaurant, while he would sleep on a mattress draped over one of the restaurant's tables.

I know Chris and I are incredibly respectful and really make an effort to conform to the practices and cultures of a country, but to be honest, I still don't know why Rami treated us so kindly and never expected anything in return. I have a suspicion that Rami saw Chris and I as older versions of his sons, who he misses so much. His fatherly selflessness and sacrifice were absolutely humbling. I hope that within the time of writing this entry, that Rami will have had the opportunity to return to Egypt and be reunited with his wife and children.

For the three nights and four days we were there, I really enjoyed my time in Karima: Rami was an absolutely splendid host; the population of Karima really took a shine to us, going as far as waving and calling us by name as we walked by in the streets; and the nearby ancient of ruins of Jebel Barkal were utterly stunning.

Jebel Barkal is a very small mountain located just outside Karima. The historical city of Napata lies just at it's base. Napata was the first capital of the Kingdom of Kush and where the Nubians regained autonomy from the Egyptians. It is the site of the temple of Amun, whose many pillars have been reduced to just two.

It is also the site of several Nubian burial pyramids, which are in various states of dilapidation.

Chris and I visited this ancient site on several occasions and even climbed Jebel Barkal with the locals and some tourists, in order to admire the beautiful views of the Nile and the surrounding lush oasis.

Despite my interest and enthusiasm for Sudan, Chris was slowly coming to loathe our stay in this desert country-- with good reason mind you. One evening, as we were sleeping, I was awoken by incessant buzzing in my ears and annoying bites on my arms. Being a light sleeper, I got up, put on some bug-spray and covered myself completely with my Maasai Shuka. Chris, being a much deeper sleeper, failed to wake up and in the morning felt the wrath of those tiny, stinging insects. He literally had several hundred bites on his arms and another 30-50 on his face. The sheer number of bites led to an allergic reaction and he succumbed to a pretty serious fever. Combine this with the unrelenting temperatures outside and you have all the ingredients for absolute fury.

I on the other-hand, had a much better time than my feverish friend. I was thoroughly enjoying my stay in Sudan and Karima in particular. It's cast of characters made any scorching day that much more bearable. From the owner of Rami's restaurant, who could not pronounce Chris or James, so just decided to call us Omar and Shakur respectively; to Girgis, the desperate barber who wouldn't stop asking me to bring him back to Canada with me, simultaneously plucking out my cheek and eyebrow hairs with two cotton strings, while seemingly giving fellatio to the air. Also, the simple task of trimming my beard resulted in the desecration of my month-and-a-half facial hair experiment, leaving me looking like a gay biker. Oh Girgis, I will never forget you! Even Rami, whose continual bashing of everything having to do with Sudan and absolute reverence for everything having to do with Egypt, was also quite comical: I can't count the number of times he referred to the Sudanese as animals.

On our final morning in Karima, Rami had helped us arrange a pick-up to continue north to the city of Dongola. As the sun rose in the sky and the air was still cool from it's nightly absence, I knew we were breaking Rami's heart. He was again losing two sons, and we were losing our Egyptian father.

Before we left for the bus station, Rami gave us a paper with his phone number on it and his father's number, who still lives in Cairo. He said that if we ever needed any help once we got to Egypt, monetary or otherwise, that we would be taken care of.

We thanked him as much as humanly possible, embraced, and left him behind. I think it is no coincidence that the meaning of his name is "loving". He showed us the personification of kindness and hospitality; and we will never forget him. Shukran baba. Shukran.

Eid Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time

Nov 11th-14th

We walked to Gonder's bus station in the darkness of night. Street-boys waved as we passed. A microbus touter shouted "Matema, Matema", the border town just east of Sudan. We were soon on our way towards the Sudan. The landscape progressively changing from mountainous and lush, to flat and arid.

I had noticed a sign saying Ethiopian Customs and we thought that we had arrived. We exited the microbus with the other passengers and made our way to customs. We asked someone where the border was and he pointed towards a desolate stretch of highway. We started walking but soon realized that we did not see the distinct border-crossing we were expecting. After yelling "Habesha, Habesha" (Ethiopian, Ethiopian) and "Ante, Ante" (you, you) in Amharic to little Ethiopian urchins yelling "Forenji, Forenji" and "youyouyou" incessantly to us, we finally escaped them and took a tok tok to "customs". It was actually a customs office for people arriving from Sudan. It turned out we weren't in Matema after all, but in a city called Maganan and this would explain why we couldn't find the border.

After feeling like idiots for an-hour-and-a-half, we hailed another microbus and traveled another 30-kilometers to reach Matema. Leaving Ethiopia took 5-seconds and a stamp. We then walked onto the dusty no-man's land between the two countries and were greeted by a young man. He told us what we needed to do in order to enter the Sudan.

• We got royally ripped-off getting black-market Sudanese pounds for US dollars.
• An adolescent, street-clothed man rifled through our bags in "Ethiopian Customs".
• We had our Visas and information slips verified and stamped.
• We went through Sudanese Customs
• We went through the Sudanese Security Office

After finally getting through the three border offices, we were now in the Sudan, in their border town called Gallabat. The cool, mountainous climate of Gonder had been stifled by the sea-level desert climate of Gallabat. It was easily 40 degrees Celsius, and this was before noon! We had found a bus heading towards Gederaf and would be able to catch a bus to the Sudanese Capital, Khartoum, from there.

As we drove over the impeccable Chinese roads at breakneck speeds, we passed a cyclist named Kevin we had met in Gonder, He was doing a solo ride from Capetown to Cairo and his sunken eyes and frail torso did not make me envy him. We waved from our window and left him behind in our van's torrid wake.

Despite 10 army checkpoints in a mere 2-hours, we arrived in the sprawling town of Gederaf. We made our way to the bus station and a man who had taken the same bus from Gallabat had already bought us two tickets to Khartoum on a bus leaving very shortly. We thanked him repeatedly, gave him the money and took our seats on the bus.

The next three hours were uneventful and the looping landscape of infinite sandy plains and straight, tarmac roads became my visual mantra. What is rather humorous, is that we started off by watching Arabic music videos, which was immediately followed by WWE Wrestlemania highlights. The entire bus was mesmerized by the streak vs. retirement match between the Undertaker and Shawn "the Heartbreak Kid" Michaels. It was quite hilarious to see a bus full of Sudanese Muslims, in their white Jalabiya and turbans, absolutely entranced by these North-American staged fights.

As night had fallen, our bus had seemed to run over something. The bus pulled over and everyone exited the bus to investigate. Along the road were scores of unidentifiable animal parts and innards making the road look like a scene out of a horror film. The animals were not only hit, but absolutely disemboweled and dismembered.

Within minutes, another truck had seen the animals and had swerved to avoid them, but in doing so, rammed another oncoming truck head-on. The impact of two trucks hitting each other, traveling at nearly 100-km/h each was deafening. All the people on our bus and others stopped their cars to assess the damage. Actually, it was more like wail uncontrollably and start utter pandemonium.

As the masses ran from all directions to gauge the deaths and damage, Chris and I stood at the side of the highway and watched the calamity unfold. This two-lane road saw no shortage of cars, which were still traveling at high speeds, swerving off the road at the last minute upon seeing the crash. The imminent danger of being hit by oncoming and swerving cars, combined with the calamitous rescue attempts, made our decision to protect ourselves an unselfish one.

Another bus showed up, and as we left, the image of a badly injured man from one of the trucks involved in the wreck, with his pristine white Jalabiya now caked in blood, failed to leave my thoughts. This next bus then broke down and it took a good half-an-hour to fix it before we were back on our way to Khartoum.

After our arrival in Khartoum, well after nightfall, we had a frustrating and confusing cab ride to find reasonably priced accommodations. We finally managed to find a lokanda, or guest house and passed out from exhaustion following our exasperating and emotional 20-hour journey.

Our arrival in Sudan coincided with the Islamic holiday of Eid al-Adha, equivalent to Christmas in Christianity in terms of importance. But unlike the commercialization of western holidays, absolutely everything was closed all throughout Khartoum and Sudan for that matter. As a stipulation to our tourist Visa, we had to register in Khartoum within 3-days of our arrival, as well as acquire travel permits to head north, and get a photography permit to take pictures of Sudan's Meroe antiquities. Unfortunately, because of Eid, all government buildings and ministries would be closed for a full week. As we walked through the empty streets in search of anyone with a command of the English language, the only common response we received was that we were shit out of luck.

We figured our best option was to check out the Blue Nile Sailing Club: the only overlander/backpacker-esque accommodation in the entire city. Once there, we spoke to a kind, English-speaking Sudanese man who made a few phone-calls and told us we could register at the airport. We had also met two other travelers, Dina from Lithuania and Martin from Italy, who were able to register before Eid had started and therefore could not help us out in regards to information or tips.

We made our way to the airport and thankfully were able to register there. We were also told that travel permits were not required to travel to the north of Sudan. I still really wanted to take pictures, but after confusingly being given the right to take photos of the airport due to the language barrier and misunderstanding regarding my request, I figured I would take my chances without the permit and claim that it was literally impossible to acquire one.

Now that our registration was in order, I could relax and enjoy some Sudanese culture: this means eating shawarma and drinking iced, sugary fruit-juices ad nauseam throughout the day. Quite glorious considering it was in excess of 40 centigrade everyday, and this was their winter!

On our way back to our lokanda, we crossed paths with Martin, Dina and a few other tourists. They were on their way to Omdurman, Khartoum's sister-city, to watch the Halgt Zikr perform at the Hamed el-Nil mosque. The Halgt Zikr are a troupe of whirling dervishes who worship Allah in an outdoor spectacle every Friday before sunset. We wanted to see them perform, so we happily joined their group.

We arrived and took our places around a group already gathered to watch this Sufi ritual. Shortly after, a group of men started singing and playing drums.

Other men, colorfully- dressed and carrying various props, started to dance or "whirl" rhythmically to the intensifying beat.

As the energy swelled, the dancing became more erratic and entertaining. Some men even appeared to be lost in worship, totally oblivious to the world around them.

I had seen dervishes in Turkey and they were downright boring compared to these frenzied Sudanese men.

The whole performance was over within 30-minutes, but the energy resounded all throughout the night.

Due to Sharia or Islamic law in Sudan, most entertainment (i.e. alcohol, bars, clubs) are forbidden, so Chris and I found the only thing left to do was pass our time eating yet more shawarma and drinking more fruit-juice. Due to the non-existent night-life and excessive vitamin intake, I felt absolutely fantastic! Even trying to pollute our lungs with delightful shisha was difficult due to a recent crackdown due to too many women smoking it. We still managed to find a sketchy place behind a hotel: men would sit, take a few puffs and then leave as fast as they had entered. It felt like an opium den might have in the Victorian era, minus the opioids.

We did eventually manage to visit some of Khartoum's "tourist attractions", the most famous of which was the confluence of the White and Blue Niles, forming The Nile River. Symbolically it was huge considering I had seen both the source of the White and Blue Niles in Uganda and Ethiopia respectively; but visually it was quite underwhelming. To add insult to injury, you were not even allowed to take pictures of this lackluster natural phenomena. We also visited the Omdurman Souq (or market), but the stifling heat and copious amounts of people made the experience rather forgettable as well.

After our 4-night stint in the surprisingly modern city of Khartoum, we woke up early and caught a taxi to the bus station where we had previously bought our ferry tickets to Egypt. After being screamed at and ushered towards several different buses, we found one leaving towards Atbara. Although Atbara was our final destination, we would be exiting prematurely in order to explore the amazing Meroe Pyramids.

We exited the bus and followed a sign towards the pyramids, despite the fact that they could be seen from the side of the highway. In the distance, we saw men riding camels. These men, aware of our whiteness due to the over-sized backpacks we were wearing, started galloping towards us. It almost appeared as if they were going to attack us. However, the only projectile they used was the saliva emanating from their mouths as they tried to convince us to ride their camels the half-kilometer it would take to reach the gate of the pyramids. We kindly declined.

Once there, we paid the curator, left our packs at the entrance and walked over the sandy slopes to see these ancient wonders. The Meroe pyramids are separated into three groups comprising as many as 200 pyramids in total. These pyramids were built by the kingdom of Kush between 800 BC and 350 AD. While many of these structures are in ruins or buried, a large number still remain intact or have been restored by the relatively small amount of foreign archaeologists and organizations allowed into the country.

Since we had arrived at Meroe by 9:00am, we were virtually alone at the site, save for the camel-riding touters. Sudan receives a very small quantity of tourists and because of this, it's sights are unknown to most westerners. Pyramids in Sudan, who knew?!

Although the pyramids of Sudan are smaller and more sharply angled than their Egyptian counterparts, I was still enthralled with the quantity of pyramids and near-abandoned nature of this archaeological site.

This Nubian site could be explored in only a few hours and we decided that we would avoid the sun's most scalding stretch and leave before we collapsed from dehydration. Since there were no buses leaving directly from the site, our only option was to stand at the side of the highway with our thumbs extended.

Two Caucasians with big backpacks, standing at the side of a desert highway, waiting to hitch a ride in the Sudan with over one-hundred steep pyramids as their backdrop. Now there's something you don't see everyday, but I thank my lucky stars that I did!

My Beer-Garden Birthday Bash

Nov 8th-10th

When we stepped off the bus from Debark, we were greeted by a young man who called himself "Dude". Dude is well known around Gonder, and due to his frequent interactions with forenji, is extremely proficient in English. Unlike other street kids, Dude is far more affluent by relative standards. This is because he had married a forenji woman at the tender age of 17. This would be culturally acceptable if it were to an Ethiopian girl of the same age. However, this woman, his wife, happened to be a 55-year-old, opportunistic European. This opportunism was quickly reversed when the marriage folded, and Dude was given a large sum of money (by Ethiopian standards once again). Now the legend of Dude precedes him. I had informed him that it was my birthday the following day and that he was more than welcome to join in the festivities.

We then made our way back to Nicole and Dan's: where we would be staying during our final stint in Ethiopia. Dan and Nicole were a young married couple, both working for the Peace Corps and had met Kyle through it's many branches in Ethiopia. They themselves were not members of couchsurfing like Kyle, but they used Kyle to filter through couchsurfers to see who would be suitable as guests. Somehow, Chris and I had managed to slip through the cracks and were offered a place to stay. They were incredibly kind and really interesting to talk to.

Since Dan and Nicole both worked during the day, Chris and I were left to our own devices. We decided to capitalize on our day by figuring out the bus system to get to Sudan and to convert our Ethiopian Birr to American dollars, since Sudan does not accept any foreign debit or credit cards. Regrettably, none of the banks would do the transactions, so we had to consult several black-market sources. The best offer we managed to find was from an upscale hotel that would take the Birr, only making a small profit.

After our errands were completed, we headed back to Nicole and Dan's to rest up before my big night. It was my 26th birthday and later that evening we were going to meet up with Dan and Nicole at the Dashen brewery. While St. George beer was my favorite Ethiopian brew, the fact that Dashen had a beer garden on it's brewery premises and that it was only a few minutes outside the city-center made the decision very simple.

In the late afternoon, Chris and I took a microbus to the brewery. We entered the grounds and found Dan sitting at a table with a group of Ethiopians. To my surprise, Kyle was sitting at the same table. Shortly after, Nicole showed up and even Grace, who had stayed with Michelle in Bahir Dar and was now doing her Masters' degree in Gonder, had joined in the festivities. We sat and laughed and the Dashen beer towers, which cost a meager dollar per liter, kept on coming.

Since Chris and I were the only one's who didn't have to contend with a hangover at work the following day; the others called it a night relatively early. We all hopped in a Toyota Land Cruiser driven by an Asian NGO worker who had offered to give us a ride back to central Gonder. On our way back, as we were driving on the dark, winding roads, a dog stumbled out onto the road. There was no time to swerve to avoid the poor animal, so the Asian guy accelerated. In doing so, he obliterated the dog. Actually, he killed the shit out of that dog. The death so swift and slapstick that it was actually morbidly comical.

After we were dropped off, we said goodnight to the working stiffs and gave Dude a call. He met up with us shortly after and took us out for a night on the town. Being a tuesday night, no bar or club was that busy. We had bar-hopped to 2 or 3 places, finally reaching the best club in Gonder. Inside we found 2 Ethiopian guys and 2 prostitutes. Thus the stage was set for an epic dance party. As the electronic music was blasting in the empty club, and I was dancing with my best friend, a 19-year-old divorcee named Dude, 2 random Ethiopian guys and 2 trashy prostitutes; I couldn't think of anywhere I would have rather been on my 26th birthday.

It was awesome.

On a side note, as I had previously mentioned, since Harar I had been finding small insect bites on my body and had been itchy on a near-constant basis. Only after having showed the bites to Nicole and Grace, had they confirmed that I had the privilege of hosting fleas. These bloodsucking insects were literally driving me insane, each bite pushing me closer to the edge of my sanity (or at least what's left of it). I had to get rid of them. As a birthday gift to myself, I would have all my clothes and even my backpack cleaned to try to rid myself of these bloody bugs. After all my belongings were washed, I hoped that new bites would cease to appear. And if it didn't, then the scorching heat of the Sahara desert hopefully would. Only time would tell.

After having slept off the majority of my post-birthday hangover, we slowly made our way to Gonder's Royal Enclosure. Within the fortified walls lies several castles and palaces; some dating back to 1632. Gonder has been nicknamed Africa's Camelot because of these magnificent buildings and their royal history. We enjoyed our stroll around the grounds, reveling in the fact that they don't allow vagrants onto the premises and therefore we would not be continually hounded for money. After wondering around aimlessly for a few hours, we then made our way back to Dan and Nicole's.

After a brief rest, we took a microbus to the famous "Fasilides Bath", the location where Ethiopians celebrate the Timkat, or Epiphany ceremony.

We then took a rickshaw back to Dan and Nicole's place and savored our final hours in Ethiopia.

Ethiopia, a country so unknown to the western world, so often misrepresented as a barren wasteland of starving, disease-stricken people. I now know the truth about this incredible country: Its people, culture and hospitality are unrivaled; the natural wonders and amazing vistas are absolutely divine; its historical monuments and religious relics are awe-inspiring. I fell in love with this country. I know I'll be back one day.

I just know I will.