Showers and loos: the new optional luxury

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. 

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

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.