Now,
I’m not adverse to a bit of roughing it from roughing it from time to time, but even so, the last few days have
been somewhat trying for the SVP household here in Khartoum.
After a fantastic few days away for the Muslim holiday Eid (more about that here), we returned to discover the water had been off for the last three days.
A former volunteer, who was manning the fort so to speak, had contracted the chicken pox while we were away, and thus the general the state of the flat had also rapidly deteriorated - most notably the toilet situation, which had begun to rival the nightmarish loo as seen in Trainspotting.
Everyone was tired, dusty and generally in need of a good bath after our long journey back to Khartoum, which involved several stops along the way for mechanical problems.
Unsurprisingly, news of the shower situation and the general state of the flat put everyone on a bit of a downer.
Although we all wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed, we soon escape en masse to the posh suburb of Riyad after being invited to a small birthday gathering for Anika, an intern at the German cultural institute here.
This is my first visit to the so-called Beverley Hills of Khartoum and it really does feel like a world away from the dusty, rubbish-strewn streets downtown.
Compared to the dismal state of our own abode, Anika's apartment - complete with air conditioning, tasteful décor, comfortable floor lounges and a wonderful roof terrace - feels like the pinnacle of luxury.
We arrive at her door like ragged desert urchins with an assortment of cakes, tea and soft drink, partly as birthday gifts and partly as bribes for the use of her shower.
Later the grim situation back at the flat almost melts away as we sit chatting on Anika's rooftop terrace, a soft breeze kissing freshly-showered skin and the lights of Khartoum spread out around us.
It's almost enjoyable to lose track of time in our comfortable new surroundings, that's the problem.
It's almost 1am when we finally manage to get an amjad back to the flat, but Abdul the doormen has already locked the gates and no-one is able to track down the after-hours number.
We explore jumping over the back concrete fence (fail), kicking the doors (fail), shouting (fail) and finally waking up the receptionist of a nearby hotel (fail again).
It soon becomes apparent that instead of falling into bed as we had all been wanting to do several hours ago, we must instead roam the streets of Khartoum until morning.
This sentence is no doubt going to give my mother heart palpitations, but in reality the streets of Khartoum are probably safer than most of the European capital cities (although I’m sure no-one will ever believe that).
At this time of night, the city is almost eerily deserted, apart from the odd pack of stray dogs and some bored looking security guards.
We kill some time walking around; chatting about other challenging experiences we’ve faced in our lives as a way of convincing ourselves that the current situation really isn't that bad after all.
A couple of hours before dawn we wind our way back to the flat and gather some bricks together as makeshift seats and wait for the doormen to rouse.
A couple of hours doesn’t seem that long, but when you’re being systematically attacked by mosquitoes, a rat is scurrying behind in the darkness and a curious policemen with a rather large rifle comes to investigate, two hours can seem like a lifetime.
The gates are finally unlocked just as the morning call to prayer sounds, with Abdul more than a little surprised to find four sleepy khawadjas on the doorstep.
That was three days ago and this morning the water was finally switched back on again … Thank goodness for a shower and a functioning loo: I don’t think I’ve ever appreciated the simple things in life quite as much as I do right now.
After a fantastic few days away for the Muslim holiday Eid (more about that here), we returned to discover the water had been off for the last three days.
A former volunteer, who was manning the fort so to speak, had contracted the chicken pox while we were away, and thus the general the state of the flat had also rapidly deteriorated - most notably the toilet situation, which had begun to rival the nightmarish loo as seen in Trainspotting.
Everyone was tired, dusty and generally in need of a good bath after our long journey back to Khartoum, which involved several stops along the way for mechanical problems.
Unsurprisingly, news of the shower situation and the general state of the flat put everyone on a bit of a downer.
 |
| On a rooftop in Riyad |
Although we all wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed, we soon escape en masse to the posh suburb of Riyad after being invited to a small birthday gathering for Anika, an intern at the German cultural institute here.
This is my first visit to the so-called Beverley Hills of Khartoum and it really does feel like a world away from the dusty, rubbish-strewn streets downtown.
Compared to the dismal state of our own abode, Anika's apartment - complete with air conditioning, tasteful décor, comfortable floor lounges and a wonderful roof terrace - feels like the pinnacle of luxury.
We arrive at her door like ragged desert urchins with an assortment of cakes, tea and soft drink, partly as birthday gifts and partly as bribes for the use of her shower.
Later the grim situation back at the flat almost melts away as we sit chatting on Anika's rooftop terrace, a soft breeze kissing freshly-showered skin and the lights of Khartoum spread out around us.
It's almost enjoyable to lose track of time in our comfortable new surroundings, that's the problem.
It's almost 1am when we finally manage to get an amjad back to the flat, but Abdul the doormen has already locked the gates and no-one is able to track down the after-hours number.
We explore jumping over the back concrete fence (fail), kicking the doors (fail), shouting (fail) and finally waking up the receptionist of a nearby hotel (fail again).
It soon becomes apparent that instead of falling into bed as we had all been wanting to do several hours ago, we must instead roam the streets of Khartoum until morning.
This sentence is no doubt going to give my mother heart palpitations, but in reality the streets of Khartoum are probably safer than most of the European capital cities (although I’m sure no-one will ever believe that).
At this time of night, the city is almost eerily deserted, apart from the odd pack of stray dogs and some bored looking security guards.
We kill some time walking around; chatting about other challenging experiences we’ve faced in our lives as a way of convincing ourselves that the current situation really isn't that bad after all.
A couple of hours before dawn we wind our way back to the flat and gather some bricks together as makeshift seats and wait for the doormen to rouse.
A couple of hours doesn’t seem that long, but when you’re being systematically attacked by mosquitoes, a rat is scurrying behind in the darkness and a curious policemen with a rather large rifle comes to investigate, two hours can seem like a lifetime.
The gates are finally unlocked just as the morning call to prayer sounds, with Abdul more than a little surprised to find four sleepy khawadjas on the doorstep.
That was three days ago and this morning the water was finally switched back on again … Thank goodness for a shower and a functioning loo: I don’t think I’ve ever appreciated the simple things in life quite as much as I do right now.
 | |
| Sleepless in Khartoum |
haha, this is not Ryad, this is Amarat, and I think I know whose house it is :D
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