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Khartoum
Khartoum is grand city that sits on the confluence of the two Niles. On the southern bank of the Blue Nile, sit the Anglo-Egyptian constructed ministries. Jumhuria Ave is lined with Art Deco buildings, and in Omdurman, the last stand of the Dervishes, lies a souk that stretches for miles. Interspersed in these areas are some Chinese built Hotels and tower blocks. In general, Khartoum is very pleasant.
We went about the necessary bureaucracy of travelling in the Sudan. We tramped to various ministries to obtain filming permits, photography permits, travel permits, and Immigration registration. When all of this was complete, we went to see the Egyptian consulate for our Visas. The Egyptian consulate in Khartoum was a disgrace. We were told to go away and come back in one hour. When we returned the consulate had closed. Then we were told to get letters of introduction from our embassies. The British Charge 35 pounds for this letter.
“What the hell do I pay taxes for?” Steamed Stuart when he heard. I decided to see if it was cheaper at the Turkish Embassy. I banged on the metal door and a man let me in.
“Hello”
“Errr hello, I need a letter”
“Ah yes, for which embassy?”
“Egypt”
“That’s strange, we don’t give letters for Egypt” He typed the letter on a computer.
“You just come from a Safari” Asked a slim grey haired militaristic man in a safari suit.
“Errr yes, what do you do here?” I replied.
“Security” he replied with a smile. This was obviously one of the Embassy protection squad despatched from Ankara.
The Policeman disappeared , returned and said
“Come with me”. I was led into a long room with a young immaculately dressed man behind a large paper filled desk.
“Good morning, welcome” He said formally, rising from his desk. “Now you are”
“Farhat”
“And you wish to go to Egypt”
“Yes please”
“Where have you come from?”
“Tanzania”
“By road?” He exclaimed
“Yes, err excuse me sir, but who are you?”
“Oh, sorry, I’m the consul” he replied politely. All the while he was trying to telephone someone.
“Are you suspicious of me?” I asked. Obviously grubby people don’t turn up at the Turkish mission in Khartoum on a daily basis.
“Nooooooo” he replied. “Turkish citizens have never required letters for Egyptian Visas. I am not happy, but this is a matter that does not concern you. My contact in the Egyptian consulate is not answering his phone. I will of course issue your letter to assist you. And with that he signed and stamped the draft on his desk.
“Look do you have internet?” I asked pointing at his desktop computer.
“Yes”
“If you turn it on, I’ll explain everything. So the Consul went on line and I plugged in www.trans-sahara.com and www.swahilidivers.com. He looked briefly at both sites, bookmarked them and smiled. I was obviously a bit less suspicious.
As I left the Policeman said to me.
“You came by Land Rover?”
“Yes”
“Is that you machine by the wall”
“No those are Dutch” He had referred to the Cloggies ancient 109 that had aroused his suspicions. The Embassy in Khartoum had a good man in their security officer. He missed nothing.
We returned to the Egyptians the following day, who were incredibly rude to us. They behaved like indignant children. After five minutes, a shouting match ensued. We left wondering whether they would issue our visas.
That evening we were invited to Iftaar with the Khartoum Sea Scouts Board. One of the board members had asked me for help fixing his outboard engine. In return, he invited us to Iftaar, and the final of a countrywide 6-a-side football competition. After eating, and before the game Kamal drove us around Khartoum, and dropped us at the Souk Al Arabi. We wandered here, until suddenly we were surrounded by five menacing men. They turned out to be plan clothes policemen.
“Give us your film” They sneered.
“No No , I replied politely, I have a permit”
“Where”
“At the Hotel”
They would not accept this and tried to physically drag me off into the police station. I brushed them off and we argued. I had a permit, and I had only taken a photo of a Pepsi sign. This could not be of military significance. We battled until I engaged a taxi to take us to our campsite, and the venue for the football match. The police refused to accompany us. Stuart was on the point of lashing out and thrashing all five. I was furious, we were being harassed for no good reason. In desperation I stood in the door of the cab and screamed in Arabic at the policemen.
“I am a Muslim, I am a Turk, I have permission. I have permission. I am a Turk, I am a Muslim Come to my hotel and see my permit.”
As the Police tried to say anything, I shouted them down with the same chant. A crowd had already gathered. As I shouted the crowd grew bigger and bigger. Murmuring and surrounding the policemen.
“Alllllllllll right, shut up shut up, shut up, we’ll go” howled one of them. He had noticed what I had not. A sea change had occurred and the crowd had taken my side. Five weedy, obviously corrupt, policemen were now surrounded by 50 honest Muslims. Most of whom had probably at one stage or another been the victim of their injustice. They jumped into our chosen cab and we drove off. A very tense journey then took place. We arrived at the Football match, and the police started shouting again. Here Kamal and his friends came to our rescue. We had failed to realise how many of the Sea Scouts board worked in the presidential palace or were junior ministers. I was so angry and so upset that I felt like crying. Then I heard one of them complaining in a whiny voice to the director of Navigation and Rivers. I lunged forward to thump the little shit. I realised I was not going anywhere. Stuart’s arm was calmed firmly across my chest. I felt like a Tom and Jerry cartoon. My legs were moving but I was going nowhere. Suitably abashed the corrupt constables were forced to apologise to us. The football match then begun and the issue was forgotten.
When I complained the next day to the Turkish Consul, he looked at me in a bewildered manner. “You were lucky”, he said. “Six months ago our cook was thrown in jail for a night.”
“What for?”
“Taking pictures”
“Beware, this is not a civilised country...” He ended.
So that’s that. The Sudanese people are fantastic. The Country beautiful, Khartoum charming and the Police are corrupt . But don’t ask me, I’m biased!
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