Landed in Khartoum
Endlessly fine, incredibly intangible. This is the arrival in Khartoum: sand that enters the nose, the mouth, and soaks the clothes more than rain.
The Gulf Air flight from Bahrain landed on time. The airport is shabby, little more than a hangar, but we’ve seen worse. The passport control is slow, and the customs check is decidedly meticulous. Finally outside, the late afternoon sun is still scorching, and, needless to say, no one is waiting to take us to the hotel. After an unnecessary wait, we opt for a taxi. The old yellow Toyota comes with a pushy driver who extorts an outrageous sum to drop us off at the nearby Hilton. The arrival in Khartoum tests us.
From the airplane, the city appeared to be made entirely of adobe, earth-colored, with all low buildings and very few cars.
In reality, there is also a lot of concrete, but the asphalt seems like a luxury and a bit outdated. The Hilton is a block in Soviet style, sealed off. The doors and windows are airtight. It smells of mold and stagnation, much like the reception staff, who, amidst flattery and a conspiratorial air, offer us a “special” rate fit for Fifth Avenue.
We’re not particularly enthusiastic about arriving in Khartoum, and the city doesn’t seem to offer many attractions.
An impression that was later confirmed in the following days. So, dust and desert sand everywhere, as already mentioned, uneven roads, and a bothersome wind that makes the air almost unbreathable and prevents you from keeping your eyes open. Fortunately, there is the Nile, or rather the two branches of the great river, the Blue Nile and the White Nile, which converge here.
In the desolate cityscape, only the residence of the president of the republic stands out—a beautiful two-story villa with large porches and a spacious green area in front. By itself, it doesn’t justify landing in the Sudanese capital.
Two guards in full uniform, looking very bored, stand at the door. There’s a constant stream of idle plainclothes policemen around, and a lot of confusion regarding permissions for taking photos. Thankfully, the people are friendly and somewhat curious—not at all like the clichés of terrorism that the media has accustomed us to. Society doesn’t seem to be fundamentalist, even though it is Muslim. Various couples can be seen walking hand in hand. Women are generally veiled but never with the fanatical rigor found in other Islamic countries.
Tomorrow, we’ll head north, following the Nile toward the Egyptian border to discover the Nubian villages, if I receive the photo permit in time. Inshallah.
