Sudan

My Sudan travel summary:

Visited: December 2004

Duration of visit: 11 days

Capital city: Khartoum

Population: 30 million (2004)

Sudan travel blog reading time: 13 minutes

• Complex permit procedures when crossing from Egypt and travelling south of Khartoum.
• Rough travel on converted trucks north of Wadi Halfa.
• Friendly people inviting me into their homes and helping me.
• Drinking tea, people-watching and talking with locals.
• Admiring the patience and resourcefulness of tea ladies in Khartoum.
• Tall, thin, dark-skinned people with tribal scarves.

In 2004, Sudan presented many challenges, with limited places to visit and few exciting things to do for travelers. Navigating, entering and exiting, finding food, and obtaining permits were all difficult. My Sudan travel adventure was one of the most challenging backpacking experiences.

One of Sudan’s most tragic realities is its long civil war, the longest in Africa’s history, lasting from 1983 to 2005. It caused over 1.5 million deaths and displaced more than four million people.

A peculiarity of Sudan is that it has over 200 pyramids (more than Egypt), built by the ancient Nubian civilization as early as 2500 BC. Unfortunately, I could not visit any of them due to security and logistical constraints.

Sudan was part of my overland trip from Europe, through the Middle East and East Africa – my African Big Tour.

The first week was intense, unique, and unusual. I will describe it day by day so to better understand the reality I experienced.

My Sudan travel adventure started on a cargo-passenger ship in Aswan (Egypt), offering an extraordinary journey up Lake Nasser and the Nile to Wadi Halfa in Sudan.

I boarded an early morning bus for a two-hour ride to Aswan port. Then, I went through customs and immigration procedures before departure.

The next step was buying a ticket for a ship to navigate Lake Nasser and registering with other passengers. I joined about 50 passengers in heated arguing, pushing, and even fighting, until we practically moved the tiny ticket booth to the edge of the pier. After all the chaos, I realized it was pointless, as we spent the rest of the afternoon waiting for the ship to be ready to sail.

The official ship capacity of one 40” container and 150 passengers was exceeded easily.

We were about 400 people and seven trucks of goods when I boarded the upper deck. Over the next five hours, another 200 passengers and ten trucks were loaded.

When the engines finally started at 6:00pm, we looked like emigrants packed onto an overloaded cargo vessel. I felt as if the ship could sink with the smallest wave.

We finally left the port of Aswan at 6:30pm.

I spent a sleepless night in my sleeping bag on a mattress made of old newspapers. We sailed slowly until 3:00pm, when we finally docked in Wadi Halfa. It was time to use my elbows again and push through the crowd to reach the official handing passports back to passengers.

When we want to disembark the ship, we are pushed under the deck, where everybody starts to panic:

“Get us out, we are sinking!”

Panic spread immediately, even though there was no real reason for it. Nevertheless, the shouting helped us get released back up to the deck. We then had to wait about an hour before workers cleared the exit doors of goods.

The adventure continued at the checkpoint, where a tough immigration officer awaited us:

“You should pay 5.00 USD custom duty for your CD Player!”

My five-year-old CD player was for personal use and had no commercial value.

“I am not paying anything!”

After some time, he realized I was only a budget traveler and let me go without paying.

Most people had already left by the time I entered Wadi Halfa, where I decided to spend the night. After checking a few places that looked more like shelters for migrants than tourist hotels, I settled into a guesthouse without reliable electricity.

“No worries, electricity will be here for two hours at night,” a kind manager calmed me down.

The place didn’t have running water either, but I was happy to wash with muddy river water stored in huge tanks. Dinner was simple: small Nile fish and bread, followed by a tasty cup of tea from a street stall.

Entering Sudan required much more than a simple passport stamp.

A formality that took two hours and involved visiting five offices repeatedly could drive impatient people crazy and test the patience of everyone else.

Bored officials sent me from one office to another, collecting stamps, signatures, and forms. When they directed me back and forth between the same offices several times, I became frustrated by the pointless bureaucracy.

As I finally sat down in front of the boss, I looked him in the eye and said firmly:

“I am not going anywhere until you issue my permit. I have spent two hours going between offices filling forms. You should put your people to work and stop bothering foreigners who bring money to your country.”

He apologized, signed all the necessary paperwork, and issued the permit within five minutes.

I ate beans and bread for lunch again. Foul – a stew of fava beans with olive oil and cumin – became my usual breakfast, lunch, and dinner in Sudan due to the lack of other vegetarian options.

The bus to Abri was scheduled for 1:00pm, but a converted truck arrived at 3:00pm. It spent another hour picking up passengers around the village before finally departing, as families gathered to say goodbye.

Up to twenty people gathered to say goodbye, hugging, crying, and making loud ululating sounds.

The driver constantly honked the horn in bursts of up to five minutes, mixing high, low, long, and short sounds.

We drove through the desert for four hours, with almost no visible road—only faint tracks in the sand. The constant vibration shook my body; I was hungry, thirsty, and exhausted.

After a sheep was moved from my legs to the roof, I finally had a bit more space.

An afternoon snack was included for all passengers – “hot chocolate,” meaning desert sand mixed with humid air in my mouth. When we arrived in Abri, the only hotel was already full.

We ended in a house under construction, where a police officer offered me a metal bed frame without a mattress. The place had two stars less than the hut from the previous night.

No toilet, no water, no shower.

I was pleased that the bed frame outside the house was solid and that the night sky was illuminated with countless shining stars.

Early in the morning, I went to tiny Sae Island, surrounded by the Nile River. I joined a man named Safie, whom I had met the day before during the desert bus journey. I couldn’t resist his offer:

“Come to my house and rest.”

After a late breakfast at 11:00am, we took a stroll around the island.

I didn’t find any particularly interesting places to visit or exciting things to do. However, gaining insight into local life was a unique experience.

In the distance, I saw a caravan of several hundred camels heading toward Egypt, moving slowly and gracefully. It was too far away to capture with my camera.

The afternoon was reserved for rest and recovery from the previous ride. The house stayed busy as Safie’s brother prepared for his wedding, and neighbors kept dropping in for tea and conversation.

After dinner, I received unexpected news that I had to extend my stay. As it was Friday, the day off in the Islamic world, there was no transport until the next day.

I spent the day resting, walking around, and observing Nubian life: mud-brick house construction, henna decoration, and traditional cooking. Most houses are large single-story buildings surrounded by high walls and a few trees or bushes in the courtyard.

Everything is simple. There are no wardrobes, only hangers for clothes, toilets are basic holes in the ground with a bucket of water. Cooking is done over firewood, and meals are served on a large plate on the ground.

All family members gather on the ground around a large bowl of beans, bread, spaghetti, date sauce, and eggplants, eating with their right hands and drinking plenty of tea.

Bathing was simple and efficient with a two-liter container of Nile water. I was grateful to still have enough bottled water and avoid drinking river water like the locals.

After crossing the river on a small canoe, I said goodbye to my friend Safie, who refused any payment for hosting me. At 9:30am we started driving toward Dongola in a converted truck. The desert ride left even talkative passengers speechless, with wind blowing through the open windows.

The “hot chocolate” (desert sand) was so overwhelming that I could not eat anything else that day.

I had the most adrenaline-fueled seat in the back row, with a sheep between my legs again. Everyone getting on and off the bus stepped on the poor animal’s head.

During a 30-minute stop, I struggled to drink tea. My hands were shaking, my body ached. I was tired, hungry, and thirsty with no energy left.

The only water available was stored in large clay jugs, which kept the river water cool and allowed sediment to settle. Foul and tea were one the menu, but I was grateful for my lack of appetite, as the food could have made me sick.

Hundreds of empty Pepsi bottles suggested the drink was popular or that the shop owner didn’t restock or cared about orderliness.

The afternoon turned into a wild adventure so intense that the most exciting roller coasters felt like kiddie rides. By the time we reached the hotel in Dongola at 11:30pm, I was covered in sand inside and out.

“Did anyone say dinner?” Not tonight; it is too late.

A retired, drunk English teacher invited me to his room, but I declined due to exhaustion and the need for a shower. I fell asleep immediately in my sleeping bag. Later, my neighbor played loud music, screamed, and danced, but I was too tired to complain and fell asleep again.

Washing clothes was the first activity in the morning. A traditional breakfast of beans and bread became a daily routine, but felt refreshing.

I walked around Dongola, the capital of Northern Sudan. I didn’t see much. No major landmarks, but Dongola was the first sizable town I had seen in Sudan, which made an impression. I was happy to find a paved main road, but disappointed again by the usual restaurant menu of foul and falafel. Thankfully, the Turkish sweets were delicious and became the highlight of my day.

The hotel offered a cold-water shower and electricity all night. However, I could only shower in the morning due to low water pressure later in the day.

The first part of my Sudan travel adventure didn’t include any special attractions or landmarks, but was a unique expedition.

At 5:00am, on time, a real bus with real seats set off toward Khartoum. For the next five hours we drove through the desert on a barely visible road when I noticed something black, smooth, and wide ahead.

Was it asphalt, the material used for paved roads? Could it really be? Without a doubt, it felt like my lucky day.

Five more hours to Khartoum felt like nothing after the previous days.

I checked into a nice hotel and treated myself like a king at dinner. No beans; spaghetti was on the menu. The shower worked perfectly and electricity ran 24 hours a day. Welcome back to civilization.

I expected a more impressive capital for Africa’s largest country. Instead, I found a mix of buildings, unattractive roads, and people resting in the shade most of the day. Migration caused by conflicts in southern and western Sudan had doubled the population in recent years.

People from many tribes and backgrounds live here. Dark-skinned men with facial scars, often tall and thin called my attaention. Aid workers drove luxury Toyota Land Cruisers, while most locals seemed calm and resigned to the country’s disorder.

Among the limited things to do in Khartoum, the main highlight is sipping tea in improvised tea houses while people-watching. It is a simple but memorable experience.

Khartoum’s 10,000+ tea ladies are an inspiration to anyone who thinks life is difficult or complicated.

Most of them cannot afford proper equipment like teapots, cookers, or chairs for predominantly male customers. Teapots are often recycled milk cans placed over embers in improvised metal stands, while chairs are repaired or replaced with empty cans. Tea ladies earn little, but they can at least support their children with basic food.

One of the most sorrowful moments occurred when my host, a kind middle-aged tea lady, was surprised by an aggressive policeman. He poured water on her cooker and scattered the embers on the floor. Whether she had a permit or not, I was deeply saddened by witnessing such harsh and unjust punishment.

The lady timidly said nothing, looked at the ground, and waited for the policeman to leave. Later, she calmly resumed preparing tea as if nothing had happened.

Khartoum has few visible museums, monuments, parks, or notable landmarks. The meeting point of the White and Blue Nile is a peaceful but undeveloped tourist spot.

I feel very safe, and walking around in the dark was not an issue.

I travelled from Khartoum toward Kassala when a police officer ordered me off the bus. He insisted I needed a special permit to visit the area because of the civil war.

I had to return to Khartoum to obtain the permit. The clerks directed me from office to office as I filled out forms and answered questions, gradually losing patience. I knew Africa could be challenging, but I never imagined a system so inefficient.

I first filled out the forms at the reception office. Then I was going to make five photocopies of the forms, passport pages, and stamps. The copy shop had run out of toner. After a 20-minute walk to find another machine, I returned with a stack of paperwork.

Next, I was sent to the Intelligence Office. The officer in Office 1 made me wait for five minutes before sending me to Office 2, where the clerk promptly directed me back to Office 1.

Convinced something was wrong, I tried Office 3, but they also sent me back to Office 1. This time I got lucky: I got the first stamp.

Why did the first clerk send me to another office when his colleague at the next desk issued the stamp?

He later directed me to an adjoining army office, where I met four confident men who seemed to do little but eat. When I asked for another stamp, they smiled and told me to come back in two days.

Of course, they didn’t know me yet. I was an experienced, frustrated backpacker and a tough negotiator, not giving up easily. I sat down on their table and waited. They talked for 15 minutes as if I wasn’t there, before calmly telling me there was nothing they could do. I insisted on a better solution.

After 30 minutes, they referred me to their boss. He first rejected any chance of a stamp that day, but after half an hour of discussion he softened. He stamped my form, and sent me back to reception.

My old friend was happy after lunch and asked me for 20USD to fill out forms and go to his chief for the final signature. At 4:00pm I obtained the travel permit for Southeast Sudan. It was time for my first meal in a proper restaurant. Chinese food is not my favorite, but that day it tasted delicious.

Travelling with a proper permit to Kassala and Al Qadarif was smooth. At checkpoints, soldiers were friendly and accommodating, carefully checking the permit. Along the way, only basic infrastructure was available; rundown guesthouses and unhygienic restaurants, where migrants or homeless gathered.

The poor area near the Ethiopian border reminded me of my first days in northern Sudan after crossing from Egypt. Exit formalities were quick and straightforward in the open air under a bush tree. I was happy to successfully end my Sudan travel adventure and excited for my next destination – Ethiopia.

Despite all the difficulties and effort, I left Sudan with mixed feelings. The most interesting areas lay in the south of the country, which in 2004 was inaccessible to travelers due to the civil war. Sudan was still one country at the time, but it seemed only a matter of time before it would split into two independent states.

Despite the difficulties, bureaucracy, and lack of typical sightseeing, Sudan impressed me with its friendly people, challenging living conditions, and the peaceful coexistence among ordinary citizens.

Without a doubt, my Sudan travel adventure will remain in my memory forever as a unique and unforgettable experience.