Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Amhara
Sunday, November 22, 2009
In the land of "13 months of Sunshine"
Friday, October 2, 2009
Into the Blue, Where the Grass is Green
It seemed that the entire state was covered in a brightly coloured green blanket. The gentle hills that at times are broken up by large rock formations were sparkling; the greenery was nice break from the sandy, dusty, hot Capital (Khartoum). Grass was plenty and we were frequently stopped along the way to make way for large herds of cows, sheep and goats. The occasional donkey or crowd of camels crossed our path. They are kings of the road around these parts.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Darfur Diaries: In pictures
A few pictures of various parts of Darfur to give you a glimpse of what I have discussed in previous posts about North, West and South Darfur.
Darfur Diaries: South Darfur
Life during these conflict years has definitely had its impacts. It has definitely toughened so to speak the people of this region. Their attitude generally is expect the unexpected. It is common place to have armed car-jakings, conflicts within camps and an increase in murders. Weapons are plentiful and can be attained with ease. Despite all these, residents of Nyala go on about their daily lives. Although for most, life as they know it has irrefutably changed, most know that you can't just cease to exist and one must carry on regardless.
Unlike El Fashir and El Genina, it seems movement is a lot less restricted and tea and coffee stalls are packed in the evenings. The markets are open fairly late and many can be seen walking around the streets. Despite all of this, it seems that it is a false sense of security, as the currents can change in an instance.
Darfur Diaries: West Darfur
Darfur Diaries: North Darfur
Monday, April 20, 2009
Blackout
Daily highs these days regularly hover in the 50 (degree Celsius). It is as if someone is playing a cruel joke and hovering a magnifying glass above your head. It honestly feels as if the sun's rays are directly above you. To make matters worse, the moment you step outside "samoom" dreadfully hot gusts of air (not sure if there is an English equivalent to that word) ungraciously slaps you in the face. For anyone not familiar with the feeling of such gusts, it is akin to placing your face in close proximity to an over as you come to open it and the burst of smouldering compressed air greets your face, similar experience to samoom except you can't escape it.
Power has going out for 6-12 hour periods at a time. It now seems that it is scheduled blackouts as some areas of the city are experiencing these blackouts during the day (from sunrise till near sunrise) and others in the evenings starting from sundown till the near midnight or beyond.
The current joke in town, as this is Sudan and no one has faith that anything can be accomplished properly that instead of providing electricity, the new dam has started sucking out power from the network. In reality there actually isn't a problem with the dam itself and it is theoretically capable of providing all the power officials boasted about. The problem most likely lies in the network that in some regions of the city is dilapidated and in need of rehabilitation or replacement.
As I currently write this we are currently experiencing such a blackout and I'm relying on my remaining laptop battery power to briefly entertain me. I have found some relief by soaking a piece of thin cotton cloth in water and laying it over my head and neck. I have no idea when this torture will be over but I pray to god they find a solution pronto!!!!
Leia Mais…
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Friday, April 10, 2009
Journey to the motherland: part II
Once we passed Al-Seliem Basin, the paved road ended and we reverted to using dirt roads. I was astonished once we entered regions passed Abu Fatma. The familiar desert topography that I had in mind faded, to be replaced by desolate and never-ending string of mountains and valleys. I was astonished at the sights before my eyes; I truly thought the only significant mountains in Sudan were to the West, in the Jabal Marra region. Only then did I begin to get an appreciation of the hardships faced by family members travelling to and from Khartoum to Al-balad (region of origin). The drive was backbreaking and this was felt from the comfort from our fully air-conditioned 4wheel drive land cruiser. So I could only imagine how much tougher it was in the Nissan buses that occupy this route. The roughly 280km from Dongola to Abri was covered in over 4 hours.
We arrived in Abri late in the evening and we pleasantly greeted at the DAR Consulting Guest house overlooking the Nile River and directly across from Arnata. From the numerous tales I had heard of the region, I imagined entering a completely pitch-black region, yet another contradiction was the enchanting dots of light that lit our path. Electricity which was once a luxury in this region seems to have been made accessible, in Abri at least. The guest house we stayed at, which I was told was designed and constructed by an Arnata native son was quite impressive. Definitely not the type of lodging you would expect in Abri of all places. It is definitely on par with some of the finest hotels in Khartoum.
Exhausted from the trip, we called it an early night in eager anticipation to finally see Arnata. The next morning I awoke and looked out my window to finally realize the island of Arnata is directly in front of our view. The weather was chilly, much chillier than I anticipated. A warm cup of tea and we were off to find a way to cross over and finally see that island that has captivated me. After arranging for a boat to help us cross over, we hesitantly wobbled down the steep embankment that contoured the banks of the Nile River.
Half way across the river, among a few men standing at the top of the embankment in Arnata, was my great-uncle. His boisterous laugh could be heard from a distance, as he waved his arms to greet us. As we arrived, I took a good, long look at the embankment we were about to climb; the equivalent of a 1 storey building, nearly vertical and composed of soft, silty unstable soil. The imposing climb made sympathize with those who use it on their daily route to and from the island. A few minutes later we were on solid ground among the wheat and fava bean harvests. The soft greenish-yellow stalks of wheat waved to and fro with the gentle gusts of wind. With each step our feet sank into the dark, fertile soil. Abruptly the arable plots of land were interrupted by sand dunes. Although not suitable for farming, these golden sand dunes sustained flourishing date trees. A short climb over the dunes and houses came to full view.
Neatly aligned houses overlooking central squares filled the landscape. Constructed of mud aggregate as a cooling mechanism as weather in these regions tend to be among the hottest on earth. The mud as opposed to conventional building materials tends to bring higher degree of relief from the scorching sun. Especially since electricity is scarce and fans or cooling systems are virtually nonexistent on this island. From a distance one would could not even tell the difference in building materials, as special care is taken to erect the houses and polish them with fresh coats of paint.
Upon arrival at my greatuncle's house we were greeted by a host of extended relatives. Some of which I had previously met, others it was a first time encounter. Our time was very limited despite their persistent efforts to persuade us to stay and have something to eat and drink, we wanted to cover as many houses as possible. So with a second cousin as our guide we quickly mapped out the houses of extended family we wanted to visit and got on our way. With each house we entered, looks of bewilderment and surprise were painted on their faces. I was the last person they expected to see. At each stop it was a struggle to persuade them that our time was limited. All wanted to honor our presence by having us over for a meal. Regrettably, time did not permit. Still processing our arrival, family members left what they were doing and joined in an ever growing procession across the island to visit other relatives. The sounds our laughter and chatter grew in size and even those who we were not planning to visit peeked outside their doors to find out what was going on.
It was a very short and bittersweet trip. At that point in time I seriously contemplated telling my aunt to carry on further up north with her work as planned and I would find other means of getting back down to Khartoum. Alas reality brought me down to earth and reminded me of my obligations to work and family back in Khartoum. We were whirled off in the same frenzy that brought us onto the island but this time with throngs of relatives bidding us farewell.