Arriving in Khartoum

Khartoum: as seen from the SVP flat

Landing in Khartoum at close to 2am had a kind of surreal feeling. I peered out the window trying to catch my first glimpse of the city, but there was nothing but an indistinguishable patchwork of lights. 

Inside the airport crowds began queuing orderly at the appropriate immigration checkpoints marked “Passports”, “Arab tourists” and “Non-Sudanese”. 

I waited in line, aware of many eyes on me. It was a slow process to reach the desk and an even longer wait for my bags to appear.

After passing through immigration large crowds began assembling around several conveyer belts for their luggage. Strangely there were no signs to notify passengers of the flight details, although everyone else seemed to know where to stand. I spent 10 minutes waiting in the wrong area, until I spotted some passengers from my flight on the other side of the room.

My home away from home

Luggage of every size, container and shape began to appear, with some passengers scurrying onto the conveyer belt to retrieve their luggage. 

After an anxious 30 minute wait my bags finally appeared and as I attempted to balance the load on my luggage trolley, an efficient man wearing a khaki uniform, embroidered simply with “cleaner” suddenly appeared at my side. After expertly stacking my bags, he took off through the security gates as I hurried to keep up behind.

For security reasons non-passengers are not permitted inside the airport terminal and outside I was greeted by scenes of absolute chaos. 

Hordes of white turbaned man shouted and gestured excitedly, while taxi drivers touted for business amid the din and others wept loudly as they embraced their returning loved ones. 

I was taking in this spectacle, while trying to keep my eyes on the “cleaner”, who had been absorbed into the crowd, when I spotted Rami, the local coordinator holding an SVP sign. 

Street view

After a brief negotiation we were soon driving through Khartoum’s darkened streets in a beat-up yellow taxi, with my bags rather haphazardly thrown on top of the roof. 

We came to a stop outside a rather nondescript building in a deserted street and climbed the stairs to the SVP flat on the third floor.

It's a bit of a hovel to say the least and is overcrowded at the moment with newly arrived volunteers and other long-termers who are awaiting for their accommodation and paperwork to be finalised. 

Piles of luggage and clothes were strewn about the floor, and although there are some modern conveniences such as a microwave, kettle and washing machine, everything looks rather grimy and unusable. The toilet seat is missing, the bathroom floor is covered with a slippery layer of dirty water and the shower is so tiny it is difficult to even squeeze in to.

Mum!! I made it!

Still, at that point I am too exhausted to really care too much about the lack of adequate housekeeping. It's nearing 4am and I make my way out to the balcony, looking at the shadowy outline of street rubble and half-finished buildings, trying to imagine what the daylight would reveal. The air was heavy and everything was silent except for small stray cat poking around in the rubbish below.