The Ministry of Dance

If someone had of told me a few months ago that I will wind up in Sudan dancing in a ministry office during the middle of the day, I would have laughed out loud.

But life in Sudan so far has been already filled with many wonderfully bizarre and unexpected moments.

Rebecca and I accompanied SVP coordinator Becca to a meeting at the Ministry of Education today, where we were introduced to SVP champion Aifa.

A former English teacher herself before taking up her position in the ministry's planning department, Aifa tells us frankly that she became disillusioned with teaching after realising she was merely talking to her students rather than teaching.

Teacher-student interaction in class is almost unheard of in Sudan and one of the big failings of the country's education system remains it's adherence to a rigid curriculum, focusing largely on rote learning and exam preparation.

A friendly, quietly-determined woman, Aifa visited all 60 of Khartoum's schools, including the city's elite private institutions after accepting her position at the ministry.

She is also the driving force behind a new pilot program that the ministry is implementing in conjunction with SVP to help improve English language standards in secondary schools and provide more opportunities for teacher training.

As part of the new program both Rebecca and I will initially be teaching in secondary schools in Ed Damer, although it's hoped the program will be expanded further in the future.

For such lofty goals, the meeting began rather informally and after some small talk we sat down for a shared bowl of fuul (mashed fava beans) and sweet tea with Aifa and the other office ladies.

Quite unexpectedly Aifa told us that if we waited for an hour we could also meet the Minister herself.

We returned to the ministry later, but there was still no sign of the minister.

Aifa, however, seemed determined to keep us there, if somewhat unsure of what to do with us in the meantime.

After awhile she suggested we go upstairs to see a “program”.

We were all unsure of what exactly she meant by “program”, but nevertheless we headed upstairs to a large auditorium.

The heavy doors opened to reveal a loud party in full swing. Plates of peanuts and dates were laid out and a surprisingly good two-piece band were playing as the crowd clapped along enthusiastically.

A bevy of photographers and a cameraman covering the proceedings almost fell over themselves to capture the arrival of the khawadjas (foreigners).

More music and speeches followed and Aifa explained that a young man called Ahmed - who works in the Special Needs department and suffers from a physical disability himself - had recently graduated with his Masters in Special Needs Education.

To celebrate the occasion his colleagues had thrown a party in his honour.

Ahmed, who was also flanked by his mother and sister, was practically beaming as his colleagues lined up to shake his hand and present congratulatory gifts.

The men heartily slapped his shoulder, while women embraced his mother.

Rebecca and I were also whisked to the front of the line to offer our own congratulations to a rather bashful looking Ahmed, as the team of photographers again came running to snap our photos.

It was an incredibly moving and joyous moment to witness and one I suspect will always remain with me.

As the music started back up again, some ladies put their arms around Rebecca and I and we joined in as the crowd spontaneously began to dance.

Sudanese dancing involves bouncing rhythmically on the one spot, with hands raised above your head while clicking your fingers in time to the music.

The women also began to let out a series of high-pitched whistles - a practice typically used to express happiness.

After all, we do meet the Minister. Dr Suad Abdulrazak comes across as a sincere and down-to-earth woman.

She shakes our hands and speaks about her enthusiasm for the pilot program and the benefits she thinks it will bring.

As she farewells us, she tells us to visit her office anytime or call her if we needed anything.

Still, in the end our meeting with the hierarchy of education pales in comparison to the joyous celebrations of Ahmed’s achievements that we were so lucky to be a part of.

Choosing the right sheep

Good sheep, bad sheep?

Tomorrow marks the beginning of the annual Eid holiday in Sudan and today the talk about town was all about sheep.

In fact, many local businesses said they were winding down early today ahead of the three-day religious festical to focus on the business at hand of finding a sheep.

According to Islamic tradition, every Muslim male must slaughter a sheep to commemorate when God asked Abraham to sacrifice his son Ismail.

In an act of obedience Abraham agreed to cut the boy's throat, but God intervened and sent a ram to sacrifice instead of Ismail after seeing the extent of his father's devotion.

In Sudan family's gather to celebrate together and the meat is shared amongst relatives, neighbours and friends.

This year's event, however, is putting somewhat of a strain on family budgets.

Many locals complained to me that the large numbers of local sheep exported to Gulf countries, had left a shortage and driven up prices.

Apparently it has also become more difficult to source quality sheep.

So, if you're in the market, how do you find a decent sheep?

* Squeeze the end tip of the tail. If it's hard that means the sheep is old and the meat will be tough. If the tail is soft the meat should be tender and tasty.

* Check the inside of the sheep's mouth. If the tongue or gums are discoloured that means the the animal is unhealthy.

* If the sheep's eyes are yellow in colour, this also means the animal is sick and the meat is likely to be bad.

Eid Mubarak!

Mind the....manhole!

Walking down Khartoum's streets is more an exercise in avoidance than a relaxing stroll. Aside from the dust-choked streets, many of the city's meandering pathways remain in a permanent state of disrepair and are barely more than a series of unconnected, randomly-placed concrete slabs.

Often there's none at all, and in this case you must share the road with the buses and amjads (taxis).

Dodging traffic, roadside traders and crooked footpaths, means it's also near impossible to walk anywhere in a straight line.

One of the biggest hazards, however, are the many enormous manholes inexplicably left exposed in the footpaths.

Here is a pictorial selection:

Manhole 1

Manhole 2

Since I arrived in Khartoum I've been joking about falling in and getting lost, and last night that very nearly happened.

The manholes are particularly hazardous at night, as street lights are a scarcity in Khartoum.

After having a coffee with friends, I was hurrying to catch up with the group when I lost my balance and slipped into a manhole, which I hadn't noticed in front.

One minute I was chatting and the next minute I was crawling across the ground trying to extricate my left leg from a manhole directly in front of a posh expat restaurant.

Needless to say, there is no elegant way to climb out of a giant concrete hole in the ground.

Explosions in Khartoum

It's nearly 2am (local time) and I was just about to go to bed when Twitter-sphere lit up with reports of a series of huge explosions at an arms factory here in Khartoum.

There is speculation online that the incident was the result of an airstrike, however the government's official line is that it was an "internal" problem and no sabotage was involved.

Reports in the international media have so far shed no light on the reasons behind the explosions .

Meanwhile, comments posted on Twitter included claims that the impact had shattered windows in nearby homes and many residents were fleeing the scene.

The Yarmouk ammunitions factory is located in southern Khartoum, about 15 minutes drive from the SVP flat.

I haven't heard any explosions and the streets beneath the flat remain silent except for a few late night traders packing up for the day. In any case, I'm sure more will be revealed in coming hours.

Goodnight from my balcony here in a silent, sleepy part of Khartoum.

UPDATE:

Latest word is that last night's incident in which two people died was the result of an Israeli airstrike.

A spokesman from the Sudanese government said Israel wants to hinder the country's military development and accused Israel of using radar jamming technology to carry out the strike.

The spokesman says the government is in "confrontation" with Israel and reserves the right to respond.

Sudanese bloggers have been sceptical about their government's official resonse to the incident.

There is also speculation over whether Israel sought clearance from the U.S before carrying out the alleged missile attack on the complex, possibly motivated by Israel's belief that weapons were being smuggled into Gaza from the region.

"What happened to 'internal problem' ya ministry of defense?" tweeted one local commentator.

"Military factory in KRT allegedly bombed by Israel. World yawns. Sudan hits rock bottom. Wait, we hit it long ago. Currently digging a hole," quipped another.

Meanwhile, Israel isn't saying either way.

...The plot thickens

Khartoum impressions

Tea time by the Nile

Stepping out into the streets of Khartoum is a bit like stepping into another world: It can be overwhelming, but at the same time it's a revelation. 

While most people in the west associate only negative images with Khartoum and Sudan in general, the city actually feels very safe and welcoming. 

Vegetable market

I have only been here now for a couple of days and I still a bit shy and very much aware of my foreignness. 

But saying that, the Sudanese people I’ve met so far have been incredibly friendly - if a little bemused to find a Khawaja (foreigner) in their midst.

Here there is a real warmth and genuineness in people’s greetings.

Everywhere you go people wave and call out “welcome, how are you” - a refreshing change from the usual mindset in big cities where people rush about their business without pausing to talk or smile at those around them.

The Sudanese are famously generous and even if they don't have much themselves, people are always happy to offer you a tea or cold drink - even pay your bus fare.

There’s certainly no shortage of dust, dirt, heat and rubbish in Khartoum's chaotic streets. And while elegant mansions can be found in the posher districts, the majority of buildings downtown remain half-finished concrete shells or appear to be in a perpetual state of decay. 

 But amidst this, is a sort of frenetic, buzzing energy and a colourful and enterprising street trade. 

Date stalls

Entering the souqs (markets) is to step into a chaotic labyrinth of narrow backstreets and bustling thoroughfares, with traders, donkeys, shoppers and delivery men all clambering for space.

Here you can find a wide range of every item imaginable from clothes to shoes, spices, jewellery and household goods.

Street traders fill any gaps with an eclectic assortment of odds and ends - their wares displayed without fanfare on small carboard boxes or plastic sheets.

Men cut toenails, shine shoes, repair watches, and sell anything from cigarettes, flip flops, batteries, used phone chargers, loofahs and torches that may or may not double as hand-held radios.

There are date stalls, falafels, barbecued meats, second hand clothing, outlandishly coloured leather shoes, while the whir of blenders signal Khartoum’s popular juice stands. 

Tea is a favourite Sudanese pastime

During the call to prayer men hurriedly wash themselves with public water jugs before entering designated tent areas for prayer.

Another common sight in the streets are the brightly coloured orange water coolers with shared drinking cups. Water being one of the basic tenets of Islam, these are provided as a free service to residents and can be found scattered across the city.

The mainstay of Sudanese street life here, however, is its smiling tea ladies. These simple stalls offer an assortment of sweet teas and coffee infused with ginger. 

I guess you can say it’s the Sudanese way to chill out. People from all walks of life meet here to chat or simply while away a few hours during the hottest part of the day.

Black markets & Sudanese high life

A visit to the black market money changers to switch some euros into local Sudanese Pounds is a must soon after arriving in Khartoum. 

Due to U.S sanctions there are no international ATM machines in Sudan and nor can credit cards be used, so the only way to get money is to bring it with you or have it wired via Western Union. 

A flourishing black market has thus sprung up, due largely to the uniformaly bad rates offered by local banks for foreign currency.

I had visions of surreptitiously haggling in narrow back streets, but instead Rami lead me into a local clothing store in the nearby Souq (market), before promptly disappearing into a back room along with my cash. 

Soon after I was also called into the room and handed a rather large wad of money to count. Watching on was a row of rather stern young men drinking tea, along with an elderly gentleman, who presided over a small battered safe at the back of the room.

Of course, anyone that knows me will be aware of my complete and utter lack of any mathematical skill, so no surprises then that I was struggling to come up with a final total under such heavy scrutiny. Luckily no-one seemed in a hurry to finish their tea.

During the day I also chatted with the other volunteers, who like me are staying at the flat while their placements and paperwork are finalised.

I also meet Rebecca, a wonderful English lady who gave up her houseboat on the Thames to come and teach in Sudan. She has already been teaching in Ed Damer (where I will be placed) for a few months, so we will be working together.

Later that day Kit - a former SVP volunteer - who is now a trustee, took Rebecca and I to meet long-time SVP supporter Griselda.

A well-known British matriarch and widow of the famed Sudanese scholar Abdullah Tayib, Griselda - who now resides in Khartoum - has kindly offered Rebecca and I use of her vacant flat in Ed Damer rent free.

This news is a huge relief, particularly for Rebecca, who has been enduring some rather unsuitable accommodation arrangements since arriving in Ed Damer.

Arriving at Griselda's, our group is greeted at the front gates by her niece Fadia, who lives in Ed Damer with her family. This warm and friendly woman immediately offers to take us under her wing once we arrive.

Decorated with Griselda’s artworks depicting famous Sudanese landscapes, as well as various collectables from the couple’s travels in Africa, her home has a cosy, bohemian feel. Air-conditioned and spacious, it is also a welcome oasis from the heat and chaos outside.

Fadia serves chilled hibiscus tea and traditional Sudanese sweets in the lounge, while we chat to Griselda about the arrangements in Ed Damer. 

A formidable and articulate woman, Griselda, who is now in her 80s, has a feisty sense of humour and shares some wonderful stories of her early life in Sudan and the many colourful characters she has met over the years.

An artwork by Griselda showing a tea lady

We also meet Hugh, an affable former barrister from Sheffield, who is on his second teaching assignment in Sudan with SVP.

As Griselda serves us cake and tea on matching fine bone china, I rather feel like I’ve stepped into a scene from a high society English tea party. She is at pains to point out that there is real milk (somewhat of a luxury in Sudan where powdered milk is more commonly served).

As we say our goodbyes later to Fadia and Griselda, Kit and Hugh ask me if I want to accompany them to their meeting with a prominent Khartoum businessman, and another local SVP supporter.

I’m still buzzing from the wonderful afternoon tea at Griselda’s when we arrive at Mahmoud’s house in the posh Khartoum 2 district.

I’m gob-smacked when the gates open to reveal a luxurious yellow mansion, set within immaculately kept gardens and surrounded by palm and orange trees.

The maids bring grapefruit juice in fine crystal glasses, followed by tea (with real milk, of course), homemade cakes and finally delicious Lebanese coffee.

The evening takes another surreal turn when talk turns to Mahmoud’s business interests and he begins to tell us how a chance meeting in Kuala Lumpur with an official there resulted in him later being appointed the Honorary Consul of Malaysia in Khartoum.

At the time, Malaysia was keen to expand their oil interests in Sudan, however, the North-South conflict continued to impede further development.

We all listen intently as Mahmoud goes on to explain how he managed to broker a top-level meeting between Malaysian government officials and then South Sudanese rebel leader John Garang, despite, he said, having no political connections.

Ever the gracious host, Mahmoud offers to drive me and Hugh home after the meeting, but before that he takes us on a short tour of his street. 

Along the way he points out several luxury properties that he also owns, including a split level rose-coloured home complete with swimming pool that is rented by his son and a palatial white mansion currently rented by the Swedish ambassador to Sudan.

When I return to the SVP flat, I find the other volunteers sitting in the crowded living room, empty take away containers lie discarded on the table … and just like that my brush with Sudanese high life abruptly comes to an end.