Donderdagoggend vroeg Op pad na Abu Dom / Early Thursday: On the road to Abu Dom
Kort voor my val Donderdagmiddag / Just before my fall on Thursday afternoon.
Aandete in die oase / Supper in the oasis.
Hitte skuiling / Heat protection.
(Lees asb. verby enige taal- of spelfout. Please excuse any grammatical or language errors in the report)
Ek is werklik bly ek het besluit om by my oorspronklike plan te hou. Ek sou skuldig gevoel het as ek Sondagoggend in die trein geklim het …
Die woestyn is agter die blad en ek het ‘n groot vrede in my hart.
Donderdag: Ek het drie-uur die oggend begin te ry. Ek wou ‘n hele klomp kilometer doen voor die son kon begin steek.
Ek het vooraf die roete van my blyplek tot buite die stad op die GPS ingegee. Ek is bly ek het dit gedoen. Dit was draaie en sirkel en deur shack-winkeltjies en krotbuurte en swak- of geen verligte strate. Sou ek dit in Johannesburg gedoen het?
Dit was 31 km tot ek uit die stad was. Die wind het gewaai en die lug was vuil van sand en stof.
Net buite die stad was twee polisie padblokkades, ‘n paar kilometer uitmekaar. Hulle het buitebande oor die pad gepak om die mense te dwing om om dit te ry. Beide kere het ek die bande eers op die laaste oomblik gesien en moes hard rem om nie daarteen te bots nie.
Donker bande op ‘n donker pad sonder enige verligting of borde. Net in Afrika.
Ek het redelik lank onder maanskyn gery. Dit het baie gehelp. Die son was nie rooi toe dit opgekom het nie, dit was vaalwit. Toe eers kon ek sien hoe troosteloos die woestyn is. Sand en vlaktes so ver as mens kan sien.
Die Nyl maak van Khartoem ‘n groot boog na die ooste en draai dan terug weste toe. Ek het vir 340 km reguit deur gesny die woestyn om weer die Nyl by Abu Dom te kry. (Ek wonder hoekom daar nie aasvoëls in Soedan is nie. Ek het baie dooie beeste en kamele gesien, en geen aasvoëls naby nie)
Ek was so teen een in Dongola. Die dorpie het ‘n lekker markie. Daar het ek drie bottels water en twee vrugtesappe gedrink en twee broodjies, met vleis gevul, geëet.
Die ferry oor die Nyl is naby aan die markie. Toe ek daar gekom het, het dit juis vasgemeer. Ek kon dadelik op.
Aan die anderkant is rye en rye blikwinkels. In die skadu van ‘n boom het so tien manne in wit gewade op matte gesit. Ek het daar gestop en saam siesta gemaak. Ek het tot half vier gelê en gewag dat die ergste hitte eers verby kon gaan.
Die pad was baie interessant. Dit het deur die een Nubiese dorpie na die ander geslinger. Orals in skaduwee het groot erdekruike gestaan met drinkwater vir reisigers. Ek het elke tien kilometer vir ‘n bietjie water gestop. Dit is water direk uit die Nyl en heerlik koel en soet.
Daar was toe al dele met diep sand, en ek kon voel hoe die fiets met die swaar bagasie baie anders in die sand hanteer as sonder of met min bagasie.
Naby die dorpie Argo het ek twee glase vars vrugtesap gekoop. Yskoud. Dit was al naby ses. Toe ek daar wegry, was my aandag nie volkome op die paadjie nie. Binne sekondes het die fiets gegly en het ek die hele paadjie volgeval. Hard ook.
Gelukkig was daar ‘n donkiewaentjie daar naby en het die man my gehelp om die fiets regop te kry. Alleen sou ek al die bagasie moes afpak. Die regtertas het losgeruk maar gelukkig was sy slot nie gebreek soos die tas in Kenia nie. Dankie sand!
Daar naby was ‘n mooi oase en ek het daar gestop en toestemming gevra om daar te kamp. Daar het die gasvryheid begin.
Ek en die eienaar het na sy kamele gaan kyk en na die baba kameeltjie. Sy melkkoeie was maar maer. Toe my tent staan, bring ‘n jong meisie vir my en hom elkeen ‘n glas met warm melk en iets daarby. Hy kon nie Engels praat nie en het beduie dat dit iets in die kop doen. Tot nou toe kon ek nog nie uitvind presies wat nie.
Toe gaan wys hy vir my hulle stort. Dis was net ‘n kraan maar daar was lopende water!
Toe ek klaar gestort het, het hulle klaar ‘n regte bed met beddegoed vir my langs die fiets onder die dadelpalms gesit! (Weens die muskiete het ek nog steeds in my tentjie geslaap)
Hul huislike lewe speel in die binnehof af. Daat staan die beddens en hul televisie.
Kort daarna het hulle die krapopwekker aangesit en kom hul televisie aan’t lewe. Ek moes gaan saamsit en kyk, al verstaan ek geen dooie woord nie. Kinders van die omgewing het gekom en grootmense ook. Televisietyd in die Nubiese woestyn.
Teen tienuur wou ek gaan slaap. Geen kans. Die buurvrou het my vir ete uitgenooi. Ons stap deur ‘n donker palmlaning tot by haar huis. Daar gaan die vroue in en die manne sit buite op beddens. (Almal slaap buite, mans en vroue geskei van mekaar. Ek wonder waar kom die kinders vandaan)
Niemand praat Engels nie, en my Arabies is soos my tegniese kennis.
Later kom ‘n groot skinkbord uit buite toe, vol met bakke van die heerlikste kos. Al die mans het hande gewas en toe met regterhande weggeval. Eerste keer dat ek tamatieslaai met die hand geëet het. Die vroue het apart geëet.
Die nag in die tentjie was hemels. Daar het ‘n koel luggie getrek. In die verte kon mens die sagte dreuning van ‘n waterpomp hoor, en nou en dan het ‘n hond geblaf.
Dit was ‘n klein stukkie paradys op aarde.
Ek het Vrydag vroeg opgestaan. Voor ek kon ry, was almal daar om totsiens te sê.
Ek het ‘n bietjie gesukkel om my pad uit te kry want juis toe het my GPS besluit om heeltyd vanself af te sit. Dit word van krag voorsien, en daar is krag, maar die ding volg toe sy eie kop en nie myne nie.
Net buite die oase het die woestyn oopgegaan voor my. Soos op Makgadigadi lê voertuigspore in alle rigtings. Ek kon elke keer net vinnig genoeg die rigting sien voor die GPS afgegaan het.
Die sand het begin diep en baie los word. ‘n Paar keer het die fiets vasgesit. Die KLR staan baie hoog, maar in die sand kon ek wydsbeen oor hom staan. Ek het dan op die grond wydsbeen oor hom gestaan en in eerste rat vetgegee. Sonder my gewig op hom kon hy hom uit die sand kry en as hy beweeg het, het ek vinnig gaan sit. Almal wat my fiets ken, weet hoe hoog hy is. Om wydsbeen oor hom te staan, is ‘n aanduiding hoe diep weggesak hy was.
Op een plek kon ek sommer aan die spore sien hoe diep die sand was. Moeilikheid. My enigste keuse was om volspoed in eerste rat links te swaai en ‘n boer se lappie lusern te begin oes. Dit het gehelp, en met lusern wat in alle rigtings gespat het, is ek om die plek.
In die volgende dorpie het ‘n ou man by die waterkruike gesit. Ek het my linkerhand gelig om te groet, maar voor ek klaar gegroet was, het ek klaar plat in die sand gelê. Die oomblik toe die linkerhand se stut van die stuurstang verdwyn het, het die sand die voorwiel na links gegooi.
Dit was ‘n baie vinnige val maar die opstaan was moeilik. My linkerbeen was onder die fiets vasgepen en ek kon nie uit onder die fiets nie. Ek kon uit die hoek van my oog sien hoe die ou man probeer regop kom. Ek het met my hande sand uitgegrawe en toe my been los was en ek regop kon staan, het die ou man ook regop gestaan.
Groet in die sand en jy sal val.
So kwart voor een het ek by drie waterkruike gestop. Onder die afdakkie was matte, en daar het ek tot half vier gelê en gewag dat die ergste hitte verbygaan.
By ‘n klein groepie “huise” het ek vieruur gestop om water te vra. Onmiddelik was almal rondom my. ‘n Seun het vir my ‘n stoel in die skadu gesit. Sy sussie het vir my ‘n bakkie dadels gebring (my eerste kos van die dag). Die dadels is kliphard en word dan in water geweek om hul sagter te kry. As my bakkie water leeg was, het hulle dadelik nog een gebring. Hulle het aan my gekarring om oor te slaap en klaar vir my my bed op die stoep gewys. My tee was baie warm, en binne sekondes was die seuntjie daar met ‘n tweede glas en het hulle begin om die tee heen en weer tussen die glase te skink om dit koeler te kry. Die een seun wou al selfs begin om my rystewels vir my los te maak!
Ongelukkig moes ek nog ‘n klompie kilometers aflê en moes hul uitnodiging van die hand wys.
Kwart oor ses het ek weer by ‘n dorpie / oase gekom. Daar was ‘n groter afdak by die waterkruike. Ek het my tentjie onder die afdak opgeslaan. Binne minute was ten minste twintig vroue daar. Een vir my tee gebring, ‘n ander een hul plat pannekoekies, twee soorte slaai en boontjies (stapelvoedsel).
Na my ete het ek Nyl toe gestap en heerlik in die koel water gewas en sommer ook my vuil Naboom2Germany t-hemp.
Ek het in die donker langs my tentjie gesit. Die windjie was bloedig warm. ‘n Jong man het langs my tentjie verskyn. “Stand up!”, het hy hard gesê. “Eat!” was sy volgende bevel. Ek moes maar volg. Daar, in ‘n opening, het vyf manne op hul matjie gesit. In hul middle was weer ‘n reuse skinkbord met slaaie, boontjies, brood, nagereg, en water vars uit die Nyl.
Met regterhande het ons almal geëet.
Ver bo ons kon ek ‘n vliegtuigdreuning hoor. Soos so baie kere vantevore het ek gewonder as die mense daar bo sou afkyk na die donker aarde onder hulle sou hulle ooit kon dink wat se lewe hom daar ver onder in die donkerte afspeel?
Sonder dat ons mekaar verstaan het, het ons saam geëet, later weer hul eie tee gedrink en na die stofgevulde hemel gekyk. Ook vanaand, terwyl ek hier sit en skryf, gaan die manne weer daar sit en eet. Ek wonder vir hoe lank nog hulle oor dié vreemdeling gaan gesels wat sy verskyning gemaak het en die volgende oggend vroeg weer verdwyn het.
Ek het Saterdag lank voor sonop begin te ry. Weer was die son nie rooi toe dit opkom nie. Die siekwit son maak my ongemoedelik.
Daar was baie sand in die lig. Dikwels het ek rotsberge eers gesien as ek baie naby aan hulle was.
In ‘n dorpie Abri het ek op die mark iets te ete gaan soek. Yskoue 7 Up (my eerste koue drinkdingetjie in twee dae) en vier stukkies gebakte vis uit die Nyl.
Toe was dit ure se ry. Die woestyn en die alleenheid het my gevang. Ek weet nie of dit was omdat dit Saterdag was nie maar daar was geen ander siel op pad nie! Ek het een 4x4 vroegoggend in ‘n dorpie gesien. Die res van die dag was dit doodstil. Dis dan wat gedagtes in mens se kop begin maal van “Wat as ..?”
Na my rugbyjare het ek ‘n drawwer geword, ‘n stadige een ook daarby. My vierde Comrades was my laaste een, en toe ek klaargemaak het, het ek ‘n paar lekker trane uitgepak. Toe ek op Wadi Halfa aangekom het, was ek so lekker moeg daar was nie eers energie om enige iets te voel nie. Ek het net gaan sit en ‘n yskoue Pepsi gedrink.
Nou is dit vier dae se wag tot die weeklike ferry kom wat ons van Wadi Halfa na Aswan in Egipte gaan neem. Ek bly in die beste hotel in die dorp. Onthou julle my beskrywing van die plek in Marsabit? Hier is dit dieselfde. Jy dra water aan vir jou stort, jy dra water aan vir die toilet, alles stink. Maar ek hoef nie meer deur sand en oor klippe te ry nie! So, ek gaan heerlik hier woon en rus.
My slotgedagte oor Soedan. Dis die hardste natuur, wreedste, wat ek nog ooit beleef het. Maar die mense … ek het nog nooit sulke vriendelike mense beleef soos in Soedan nie. So, Soedan kom bo-aan my lys van wonderlike ervarings tydens my toer.
I am really glad that I sticked to the original plan and rode to Wadi Halfa via Dongola. If I had to use the train it would have felt like cheating for me.
I’ve crossed the desert and I have a good feeling in my heart.
Thursday: I started riding at 03:00 AM. My plan was to cover as many kilometer as possible before sunrise.
I uploaded the route from my camping site in Khartoum to the Dongola road to the GPS. I was glad that I did it. It was not easy to get out of the city. It was through dark streets and shanties and townships until I was on the Dongola road. Whether I would have done the same in Johannesburg? I doubt it.
After 31 km I left the city behind me. The wind was howling and the air was thick with dust and sand.
Within a few kilometers of each other were two police road blocks. They used tyres to force the people to stop. Each time I saw the tyres just in time to get onto the brakes. It would have been so easy to hit those tyres in the dark.
Tyres in the dark on a dark road. Only in Africa.
For quite a time I rode with only the moon above me. The moonlight help a lot. At sunrise I expected a red sun like in southern Africa. Not here. It was a sick whitish colour. For the first time I could then see how the surrounding desert landscape looks like. Sand plains as far as one could see.
The Nile turns east at Khartoum and then north and later west again. For 340 km I cut through the desert to meet the Nile at Abu Dom again. (I saw many carcasses of cattle and camels. There were no vultures nearby. Are there any vultures in Sudan?)
I reached Dongola at one o’clock. In town is a lively market square. There I bought three bottles of cold water and two glasses fresh fruit juice. My first meal of the day was two small breads filled with meat and vegetables, like a Döner Kebab.
The ferry across the Nile was close to the market. As I got to the ferry it had just moored and I could get up.
On the eastern Nile bank were dozens of small shops and eateries. In the shade of a big tree I saw ten men clothed in white, lying on a large carpet. I joined them and lay there until 3.30 PM. The heat was then more bearable.
I loved riding through the Nubian villages. Often in the shade of a tree or in a shelter were three urns, filled with cool fresh water. The Nubians put out the water for the thirsty traveler passing there. The water comes directly from the Nile and I drank it as it was. I had a stop at least every ten kilometer to have a drink and cool down a bit.
Already on this section were patches of deep sand. I realized soon that with all the load the bike was carrying the behaviour of the bike was different from other sand riding I’ve done.
Close to the village Argo I again bought two glasses of cold fresh fruit juice. It was getting late. Leaving I didn’t pay attention to the track and had a nasty fall in the sand.
Fortunately a donkey cart passed and the gent on the cart helped me getting my bike up again. If he were not at hand I would have to unpack the bike to get it up. The right pannier was ripped of the bracket, but, contrary to Kenya the lock was not broken. It had advantages when one falls in sand!
Close by was a beautiful oasis. I stopped and asked permission to camp there. Immediately the Sudanese hospitality kicked in.
The farmer took me with to his camels and I could take a picture of a baby camel. His cows were thin. Back at my tent a young girl brought him and me two glasses of hot milk. Mixed with the milk was something that I could not identify. He couldn’t speak English. He showed to his head and tried to make it clear what the milk would do to our heads. I waited for an explosion but nothing happened. So, the mystery remains.
He took me to their outside shower. It was only a tap but with running water!
After my shower I had the next surprise. Next to my tent They put a real bed with bedding. It was a fairytale setup! (Due to the mosquitoes I still used my tent to sleep in.)
The Nubian families live in the courtyard of their houses. One goes through a door and instead of a house there is a big square where their beds and TV stand, and to the one side rooms and a kitchen.
They switched the generator on. The TV started flickering, nd then the neighbour children started coming to watch TV. Later many parents as well. Everyone sat flat on the ground. I had to go with, even if I couldn’t understand a single word. Watching their faces was reward enough. Social life in the Nubian desert.
At ten I excused mys elf to go to bed. O no! The neighbour got up and first invited me for supper at her home. We walked through a dark alley the 200 m to her house. The women go inside and the men sat on the beds outside. (Everywhere I came the people slept outside on beds, the men and women separated. I wondered where the children came from)
No one spoke English, and my knowledge of Arabic is as good as my technical knowledge.
After a while a lady brough a massive round plate, filled with various delicious dishes. The men washed their hands and then we started eating, with our right hands only. Again I had the privilege of eating a tomato salad only with my one hand. I never saw the women again, they stayed inside for the duration of our meal.
The night in my tent was idyllic. There was a cool breeze. In the distance one could hea the soft chug-chug of a water pump. Now and then a dog belled. And then the sky filled with stars …
It felt like paradise on earth.
The next morning I got up early. Before I could leave everyone came to say goodbye.
It was difficult finding my way through and around all the houses and small holdings. My GPS got its power from the bike, but for some strange reason the GPS kept on turning off that morning, although there was power.
Just outside the oasis the desert was lying, waiting. Like on Makgadigadi Pans tracks were running in all directions, making navigation not easier. I just had enough time to check my direction before the GPS turned itself off.
At certain spots the sand was really deep and loose. I got stuck a few times. The KLR is a very high bike. Bogged down I could stand over it with both my legs on the ground. Standing like this I gave full power in first gear. Without my weight it managed to free itself from the sand.
Once, coming around a bend in the track I could see disaster ahead. The tracks were deep and spread out over a distance of easily 200 m width. Getting stuck there would have been bad. Within a millisecond I decided to swing the bike to the left and with full power first gear I aimed at a piece of lupine. The KLR went through that lupine like a mower but at least the tyres got some grip and I managed through. With all the lupine stucked to the bike I could have fed a donkey.
Coming to the next village an old man was sitting in the shade of a tree. I lifted my left hand to greet him, but before he could return my greeting I was lying in the sand with the bike on me. My left hand acted as a kind of shock breaker against the sand, and the moment that anti force was removed from the handle bar the sand threw the bike (and me) to the left.
It happened so fast, but getting up was more difficult. My left leg was pinned down by the bike. I saw how the old man struggled to get up to come and help me. With my hands I dug my left free. When I was standing upright the old man was just on his feet, too late to help.
The lesson learnt is: Wave hello while in the sand and you’re down.
I stopped at three urns with drinking water at half past twelve. There were carpets and I spend the hottest part of the day relaxing there with enough water to drink.
I came to a few houses later the afternoon. I stopped and asked for some water. Bang! And the Sudenese hospitality kicked in. A young boy brought me a chair to a shade spot. A next one brought me something to eat (my first food for the day). They offered and showed me the bed where I could sleep if I preferred to stay over. A girl brought me tea, and another boy came with a second glas, started cooling the tea for me. The one boy even started opening my riding boots to help me!
Unfortunately I couldn’t stay over as I still had many kilometers to ride that day.
I got to an oasis just after six the evening. I pitched my tent at the water urns under a small thatched roof. Within minutes at least twenty women were standing there, offering my kind of assistance. One brought me tea, an other something to eat: Their flat pancakes, two kinds of salads, and a traditional bean meal.
After my supper I walked down to the Nile and washed myself. The cool water was wonderful after the day in the desert! I washed my Naboom2Germany t-shirt as it was becoming stinking.
That night, while sitting next to my tent in the darkness a young man appeared and barked: “Stand up! Eat!” I had no other choice than to follow him. Thirty meters from my tent five men were sitting on the ground on a carpet, in their middle again a massive round plate filled to the brim with delicious Nubian meals. We washed our hands and started eating.
While sitting their in the darkness with a hot wind coming from the north an aircraft passed high above us. I wondered so often in the past while flying over Africa what kind of human interaction was taking place eleven kilometer below me on the ground. That night I was part from that what was happening on the ground, while high above people were sipping their cocktails.
We could not communicate verbally, but we spoke to each other in many ways. We had the last tea together, and then I finally retired to my tent. Tonight I know they will sit there again, having their supper. I wonder when would be the last time that they would speak about the stranger that arrived there on his motorcycle and that was gone when the sun rose the next morning.
Saturday I left early, before sunrise. Again the sun was white. It was a discomforting sight.
There was a lot of sand and dust in the air. Often I saw mountains the first time as I got quite close to them.
In a small village Abri I bought four pieces of Nile fish for breakfast, and an ice cold 7 UP! It was my first cold drink since two days.
After that followed many hours of hot and hard riding over stones and through sand. What was worrying me was the fact that for a whole day I saw only one other vehicle. During those hours one’s head tends to start with silly mind games.
After I stopped playing rugby I became a jogger, a slow one too. My fourth Comrades was my last one. On finishing that I still had the energy for a few tears. As I got to Wadi Halfa I didn’t have any energy left to feel anything. I was just glad that I was through the desert. I sat down and had a cold Pepsi.
ON Wednesday the ferry to Egypt leaves. I stay in the best hotel in Wadi Halfa. Do you remember my description of that place in Marsabit. It is the same here. You have to fetch water to wash yourself. You have to fetch water for the toilet, a hole in the ground. It doesn’t bother me anymore. I can sit and relax and don’t have to ride through sand and over stones.
My feelings about Sudan: The nature is harsh and unforgiving. I have never experienced anything like this before. But the people, I have never met before such warm, caring and friendly people. They are from heaven. I will put Sudan on top of my list of best experiences ever.
Ek is werklik bly ek het besluit om by my oorspronklike plan te hou. Ek sou skuldig gevoel het as ek Sondagoggend in die trein geklim het …
Die woestyn is agter die blad en ek het ‘n groot vrede in my hart.
Donderdag: Ek het drie-uur die oggend begin te ry. Ek wou ‘n hele klomp kilometer doen voor die son kon begin steek.
Ek het vooraf die roete van my blyplek tot buite die stad op die GPS ingegee. Ek is bly ek het dit gedoen. Dit was draaie en sirkel en deur shack-winkeltjies en krotbuurte en swak- of geen verligte strate. Sou ek dit in Johannesburg gedoen het?
Dit was 31 km tot ek uit die stad was. Die wind het gewaai en die lug was vuil van sand en stof.
Net buite die stad was twee polisie padblokkades, ‘n paar kilometer uitmekaar. Hulle het buitebande oor die pad gepak om die mense te dwing om om dit te ry. Beide kere het ek die bande eers op die laaste oomblik gesien en moes hard rem om nie daarteen te bots nie.
Donker bande op ‘n donker pad sonder enige verligting of borde. Net in Afrika.
Ek het redelik lank onder maanskyn gery. Dit het baie gehelp. Die son was nie rooi toe dit opgekom het nie, dit was vaalwit. Toe eers kon ek sien hoe troosteloos die woestyn is. Sand en vlaktes so ver as mens kan sien.
Die Nyl maak van Khartoem ‘n groot boog na die ooste en draai dan terug weste toe. Ek het vir 340 km reguit deur gesny die woestyn om weer die Nyl by Abu Dom te kry. (Ek wonder hoekom daar nie aasvoëls in Soedan is nie. Ek het baie dooie beeste en kamele gesien, en geen aasvoëls naby nie)
Ek was so teen een in Dongola. Die dorpie het ‘n lekker markie. Daar het ek drie bottels water en twee vrugtesappe gedrink en twee broodjies, met vleis gevul, geëet.
Die ferry oor die Nyl is naby aan die markie. Toe ek daar gekom het, het dit juis vasgemeer. Ek kon dadelik op.
Aan die anderkant is rye en rye blikwinkels. In die skadu van ‘n boom het so tien manne in wit gewade op matte gesit. Ek het daar gestop en saam siesta gemaak. Ek het tot half vier gelê en gewag dat die ergste hitte eers verby kon gaan.
Die pad was baie interessant. Dit het deur die een Nubiese dorpie na die ander geslinger. Orals in skaduwee het groot erdekruike gestaan met drinkwater vir reisigers. Ek het elke tien kilometer vir ‘n bietjie water gestop. Dit is water direk uit die Nyl en heerlik koel en soet.
Daar was toe al dele met diep sand, en ek kon voel hoe die fiets met die swaar bagasie baie anders in die sand hanteer as sonder of met min bagasie.
Naby die dorpie Argo het ek twee glase vars vrugtesap gekoop. Yskoud. Dit was al naby ses. Toe ek daar wegry, was my aandag nie volkome op die paadjie nie. Binne sekondes het die fiets gegly en het ek die hele paadjie volgeval. Hard ook.
Gelukkig was daar ‘n donkiewaentjie daar naby en het die man my gehelp om die fiets regop te kry. Alleen sou ek al die bagasie moes afpak. Die regtertas het losgeruk maar gelukkig was sy slot nie gebreek soos die tas in Kenia nie. Dankie sand!
Daar naby was ‘n mooi oase en ek het daar gestop en toestemming gevra om daar te kamp. Daar het die gasvryheid begin.
Ek en die eienaar het na sy kamele gaan kyk en na die baba kameeltjie. Sy melkkoeie was maar maer. Toe my tent staan, bring ‘n jong meisie vir my en hom elkeen ‘n glas met warm melk en iets daarby. Hy kon nie Engels praat nie en het beduie dat dit iets in die kop doen. Tot nou toe kon ek nog nie uitvind presies wat nie.
Toe gaan wys hy vir my hulle stort. Dis was net ‘n kraan maar daar was lopende water!
Toe ek klaar gestort het, het hulle klaar ‘n regte bed met beddegoed vir my langs die fiets onder die dadelpalms gesit! (Weens die muskiete het ek nog steeds in my tentjie geslaap)
Hul huislike lewe speel in die binnehof af. Daat staan die beddens en hul televisie.
Kort daarna het hulle die krapopwekker aangesit en kom hul televisie aan’t lewe. Ek moes gaan saamsit en kyk, al verstaan ek geen dooie woord nie. Kinders van die omgewing het gekom en grootmense ook. Televisietyd in die Nubiese woestyn.
Teen tienuur wou ek gaan slaap. Geen kans. Die buurvrou het my vir ete uitgenooi. Ons stap deur ‘n donker palmlaning tot by haar huis. Daar gaan die vroue in en die manne sit buite op beddens. (Almal slaap buite, mans en vroue geskei van mekaar. Ek wonder waar kom die kinders vandaan)
Niemand praat Engels nie, en my Arabies is soos my tegniese kennis.
Later kom ‘n groot skinkbord uit buite toe, vol met bakke van die heerlikste kos. Al die mans het hande gewas en toe met regterhande weggeval. Eerste keer dat ek tamatieslaai met die hand geëet het. Die vroue het apart geëet.
Die nag in die tentjie was hemels. Daar het ‘n koel luggie getrek. In die verte kon mens die sagte dreuning van ‘n waterpomp hoor, en nou en dan het ‘n hond geblaf.
Dit was ‘n klein stukkie paradys op aarde.
Ek het Vrydag vroeg opgestaan. Voor ek kon ry, was almal daar om totsiens te sê.
Ek het ‘n bietjie gesukkel om my pad uit te kry want juis toe het my GPS besluit om heeltyd vanself af te sit. Dit word van krag voorsien, en daar is krag, maar die ding volg toe sy eie kop en nie myne nie.
Net buite die oase het die woestyn oopgegaan voor my. Soos op Makgadigadi lê voertuigspore in alle rigtings. Ek kon elke keer net vinnig genoeg die rigting sien voor die GPS afgegaan het.
Die sand het begin diep en baie los word. ‘n Paar keer het die fiets vasgesit. Die KLR staan baie hoog, maar in die sand kon ek wydsbeen oor hom staan. Ek het dan op die grond wydsbeen oor hom gestaan en in eerste rat vetgegee. Sonder my gewig op hom kon hy hom uit die sand kry en as hy beweeg het, het ek vinnig gaan sit. Almal wat my fiets ken, weet hoe hoog hy is. Om wydsbeen oor hom te staan, is ‘n aanduiding hoe diep weggesak hy was.
Op een plek kon ek sommer aan die spore sien hoe diep die sand was. Moeilikheid. My enigste keuse was om volspoed in eerste rat links te swaai en ‘n boer se lappie lusern te begin oes. Dit het gehelp, en met lusern wat in alle rigtings gespat het, is ek om die plek.
In die volgende dorpie het ‘n ou man by die waterkruike gesit. Ek het my linkerhand gelig om te groet, maar voor ek klaar gegroet was, het ek klaar plat in die sand gelê. Die oomblik toe die linkerhand se stut van die stuurstang verdwyn het, het die sand die voorwiel na links gegooi.
Dit was ‘n baie vinnige val maar die opstaan was moeilik. My linkerbeen was onder die fiets vasgepen en ek kon nie uit onder die fiets nie. Ek kon uit die hoek van my oog sien hoe die ou man probeer regop kom. Ek het met my hande sand uitgegrawe en toe my been los was en ek regop kon staan, het die ou man ook regop gestaan.
Groet in die sand en jy sal val.
So kwart voor een het ek by drie waterkruike gestop. Onder die afdakkie was matte, en daar het ek tot half vier gelê en gewag dat die ergste hitte verbygaan.
By ‘n klein groepie “huise” het ek vieruur gestop om water te vra. Onmiddelik was almal rondom my. ‘n Seun het vir my ‘n stoel in die skadu gesit. Sy sussie het vir my ‘n bakkie dadels gebring (my eerste kos van die dag). Die dadels is kliphard en word dan in water geweek om hul sagter te kry. As my bakkie water leeg was, het hulle dadelik nog een gebring. Hulle het aan my gekarring om oor te slaap en klaar vir my my bed op die stoep gewys. My tee was baie warm, en binne sekondes was die seuntjie daar met ‘n tweede glas en het hulle begin om die tee heen en weer tussen die glase te skink om dit koeler te kry. Die een seun wou al selfs begin om my rystewels vir my los te maak!
Ongelukkig moes ek nog ‘n klompie kilometers aflê en moes hul uitnodiging van die hand wys.
Kwart oor ses het ek weer by ‘n dorpie / oase gekom. Daar was ‘n groter afdak by die waterkruike. Ek het my tentjie onder die afdak opgeslaan. Binne minute was ten minste twintig vroue daar. Een vir my tee gebring, ‘n ander een hul plat pannekoekies, twee soorte slaai en boontjies (stapelvoedsel).
Na my ete het ek Nyl toe gestap en heerlik in die koel water gewas en sommer ook my vuil Naboom2Germany t-hemp.
Ek het in die donker langs my tentjie gesit. Die windjie was bloedig warm. ‘n Jong man het langs my tentjie verskyn. “Stand up!”, het hy hard gesê. “Eat!” was sy volgende bevel. Ek moes maar volg. Daar, in ‘n opening, het vyf manne op hul matjie gesit. In hul middle was weer ‘n reuse skinkbord met slaaie, boontjies, brood, nagereg, en water vars uit die Nyl.
Met regterhande het ons almal geëet.
Ver bo ons kon ek ‘n vliegtuigdreuning hoor. Soos so baie kere vantevore het ek gewonder as die mense daar bo sou afkyk na die donker aarde onder hulle sou hulle ooit kon dink wat se lewe hom daar ver onder in die donkerte afspeel?
Sonder dat ons mekaar verstaan het, het ons saam geëet, later weer hul eie tee gedrink en na die stofgevulde hemel gekyk. Ook vanaand, terwyl ek hier sit en skryf, gaan die manne weer daar sit en eet. Ek wonder vir hoe lank nog hulle oor dié vreemdeling gaan gesels wat sy verskyning gemaak het en die volgende oggend vroeg weer verdwyn het.
Ek het Saterdag lank voor sonop begin te ry. Weer was die son nie rooi toe dit opkom nie. Die siekwit son maak my ongemoedelik.
Daar was baie sand in die lig. Dikwels het ek rotsberge eers gesien as ek baie naby aan hulle was.
In ‘n dorpie Abri het ek op die mark iets te ete gaan soek. Yskoue 7 Up (my eerste koue drinkdingetjie in twee dae) en vier stukkies gebakte vis uit die Nyl.
Toe was dit ure se ry. Die woestyn en die alleenheid het my gevang. Ek weet nie of dit was omdat dit Saterdag was nie maar daar was geen ander siel op pad nie! Ek het een 4x4 vroegoggend in ‘n dorpie gesien. Die res van die dag was dit doodstil. Dis dan wat gedagtes in mens se kop begin maal van “Wat as ..?”
Na my rugbyjare het ek ‘n drawwer geword, ‘n stadige een ook daarby. My vierde Comrades was my laaste een, en toe ek klaargemaak het, het ek ‘n paar lekker trane uitgepak. Toe ek op Wadi Halfa aangekom het, was ek so lekker moeg daar was nie eers energie om enige iets te voel nie. Ek het net gaan sit en ‘n yskoue Pepsi gedrink.
Nou is dit vier dae se wag tot die weeklike ferry kom wat ons van Wadi Halfa na Aswan in Egipte gaan neem. Ek bly in die beste hotel in die dorp. Onthou julle my beskrywing van die plek in Marsabit? Hier is dit dieselfde. Jy dra water aan vir jou stort, jy dra water aan vir die toilet, alles stink. Maar ek hoef nie meer deur sand en oor klippe te ry nie! So, ek gaan heerlik hier woon en rus.
My slotgedagte oor Soedan. Dis die hardste natuur, wreedste, wat ek nog ooit beleef het. Maar die mense … ek het nog nooit sulke vriendelike mense beleef soos in Soedan nie. So, Soedan kom bo-aan my lys van wonderlike ervarings tydens my toer.
I am really glad that I sticked to the original plan and rode to Wadi Halfa via Dongola. If I had to use the train it would have felt like cheating for me.
I’ve crossed the desert and I have a good feeling in my heart.
Thursday: I started riding at 03:00 AM. My plan was to cover as many kilometer as possible before sunrise.
I uploaded the route from my camping site in Khartoum to the Dongola road to the GPS. I was glad that I did it. It was not easy to get out of the city. It was through dark streets and shanties and townships until I was on the Dongola road. Whether I would have done the same in Johannesburg? I doubt it.
After 31 km I left the city behind me. The wind was howling and the air was thick with dust and sand.
Within a few kilometers of each other were two police road blocks. They used tyres to force the people to stop. Each time I saw the tyres just in time to get onto the brakes. It would have been so easy to hit those tyres in the dark.
Tyres in the dark on a dark road. Only in Africa.
For quite a time I rode with only the moon above me. The moonlight help a lot. At sunrise I expected a red sun like in southern Africa. Not here. It was a sick whitish colour. For the first time I could then see how the surrounding desert landscape looks like. Sand plains as far as one could see.
The Nile turns east at Khartoum and then north and later west again. For 340 km I cut through the desert to meet the Nile at Abu Dom again. (I saw many carcasses of cattle and camels. There were no vultures nearby. Are there any vultures in Sudan?)
I reached Dongola at one o’clock. In town is a lively market square. There I bought three bottles of cold water and two glasses fresh fruit juice. My first meal of the day was two small breads filled with meat and vegetables, like a Döner Kebab.
The ferry across the Nile was close to the market. As I got to the ferry it had just moored and I could get up.
On the eastern Nile bank were dozens of small shops and eateries. In the shade of a big tree I saw ten men clothed in white, lying on a large carpet. I joined them and lay there until 3.30 PM. The heat was then more bearable.
I loved riding through the Nubian villages. Often in the shade of a tree or in a shelter were three urns, filled with cool fresh water. The Nubians put out the water for the thirsty traveler passing there. The water comes directly from the Nile and I drank it as it was. I had a stop at least every ten kilometer to have a drink and cool down a bit.
Already on this section were patches of deep sand. I realized soon that with all the load the bike was carrying the behaviour of the bike was different from other sand riding I’ve done.
Close to the village Argo I again bought two glasses of cold fresh fruit juice. It was getting late. Leaving I didn’t pay attention to the track and had a nasty fall in the sand.
Fortunately a donkey cart passed and the gent on the cart helped me getting my bike up again. If he were not at hand I would have to unpack the bike to get it up. The right pannier was ripped of the bracket, but, contrary to Kenya the lock was not broken. It had advantages when one falls in sand!
Close by was a beautiful oasis. I stopped and asked permission to camp there. Immediately the Sudanese hospitality kicked in.
The farmer took me with to his camels and I could take a picture of a baby camel. His cows were thin. Back at my tent a young girl brought him and me two glasses of hot milk. Mixed with the milk was something that I could not identify. He couldn’t speak English. He showed to his head and tried to make it clear what the milk would do to our heads. I waited for an explosion but nothing happened. So, the mystery remains.
He took me to their outside shower. It was only a tap but with running water!
After my shower I had the next surprise. Next to my tent They put a real bed with bedding. It was a fairytale setup! (Due to the mosquitoes I still used my tent to sleep in.)
The Nubian families live in the courtyard of their houses. One goes through a door and instead of a house there is a big square where their beds and TV stand, and to the one side rooms and a kitchen.
They switched the generator on. The TV started flickering, nd then the neighbour children started coming to watch TV. Later many parents as well. Everyone sat flat on the ground. I had to go with, even if I couldn’t understand a single word. Watching their faces was reward enough. Social life in the Nubian desert.
At ten I excused mys elf to go to bed. O no! The neighbour got up and first invited me for supper at her home. We walked through a dark alley the 200 m to her house. The women go inside and the men sat on the beds outside. (Everywhere I came the people slept outside on beds, the men and women separated. I wondered where the children came from)
No one spoke English, and my knowledge of Arabic is as good as my technical knowledge.
After a while a lady brough a massive round plate, filled with various delicious dishes. The men washed their hands and then we started eating, with our right hands only. Again I had the privilege of eating a tomato salad only with my one hand. I never saw the women again, they stayed inside for the duration of our meal.
The night in my tent was idyllic. There was a cool breeze. In the distance one could hea the soft chug-chug of a water pump. Now and then a dog belled. And then the sky filled with stars …
It felt like paradise on earth.
The next morning I got up early. Before I could leave everyone came to say goodbye.
It was difficult finding my way through and around all the houses and small holdings. My GPS got its power from the bike, but for some strange reason the GPS kept on turning off that morning, although there was power.
Just outside the oasis the desert was lying, waiting. Like on Makgadigadi Pans tracks were running in all directions, making navigation not easier. I just had enough time to check my direction before the GPS turned itself off.
At certain spots the sand was really deep and loose. I got stuck a few times. The KLR is a very high bike. Bogged down I could stand over it with both my legs on the ground. Standing like this I gave full power in first gear. Without my weight it managed to free itself from the sand.
Once, coming around a bend in the track I could see disaster ahead. The tracks were deep and spread out over a distance of easily 200 m width. Getting stuck there would have been bad. Within a millisecond I decided to swing the bike to the left and with full power first gear I aimed at a piece of lupine. The KLR went through that lupine like a mower but at least the tyres got some grip and I managed through. With all the lupine stucked to the bike I could have fed a donkey.
Coming to the next village an old man was sitting in the shade of a tree. I lifted my left hand to greet him, but before he could return my greeting I was lying in the sand with the bike on me. My left hand acted as a kind of shock breaker against the sand, and the moment that anti force was removed from the handle bar the sand threw the bike (and me) to the left.
It happened so fast, but getting up was more difficult. My left leg was pinned down by the bike. I saw how the old man struggled to get up to come and help me. With my hands I dug my left free. When I was standing upright the old man was just on his feet, too late to help.
The lesson learnt is: Wave hello while in the sand and you’re down.
I stopped at three urns with drinking water at half past twelve. There were carpets and I spend the hottest part of the day relaxing there with enough water to drink.
I came to a few houses later the afternoon. I stopped and asked for some water. Bang! And the Sudenese hospitality kicked in. A young boy brought me a chair to a shade spot. A next one brought me something to eat (my first food for the day). They offered and showed me the bed where I could sleep if I preferred to stay over. A girl brought me tea, and another boy came with a second glas, started cooling the tea for me. The one boy even started opening my riding boots to help me!
Unfortunately I couldn’t stay over as I still had many kilometers to ride that day.
I got to an oasis just after six the evening. I pitched my tent at the water urns under a small thatched roof. Within minutes at least twenty women were standing there, offering my kind of assistance. One brought me tea, an other something to eat: Their flat pancakes, two kinds of salads, and a traditional bean meal.
After my supper I walked down to the Nile and washed myself. The cool water was wonderful after the day in the desert! I washed my Naboom2Germany t-shirt as it was becoming stinking.
That night, while sitting next to my tent in the darkness a young man appeared and barked: “Stand up! Eat!” I had no other choice than to follow him. Thirty meters from my tent five men were sitting on the ground on a carpet, in their middle again a massive round plate filled to the brim with delicious Nubian meals. We washed our hands and started eating.
While sitting their in the darkness with a hot wind coming from the north an aircraft passed high above us. I wondered so often in the past while flying over Africa what kind of human interaction was taking place eleven kilometer below me on the ground. That night I was part from that what was happening on the ground, while high above people were sipping their cocktails.
We could not communicate verbally, but we spoke to each other in many ways. We had the last tea together, and then I finally retired to my tent. Tonight I know they will sit there again, having their supper. I wonder when would be the last time that they would speak about the stranger that arrived there on his motorcycle and that was gone when the sun rose the next morning.
Saturday I left early, before sunrise. Again the sun was white. It was a discomforting sight.
There was a lot of sand and dust in the air. Often I saw mountains the first time as I got quite close to them.
In a small village Abri I bought four pieces of Nile fish for breakfast, and an ice cold 7 UP! It was my first cold drink since two days.
After that followed many hours of hot and hard riding over stones and through sand. What was worrying me was the fact that for a whole day I saw only one other vehicle. During those hours one’s head tends to start with silly mind games.
After I stopped playing rugby I became a jogger, a slow one too. My fourth Comrades was my last one. On finishing that I still had the energy for a few tears. As I got to Wadi Halfa I didn’t have any energy left to feel anything. I was just glad that I was through the desert. I sat down and had a cold Pepsi.
ON Wednesday the ferry to Egypt leaves. I stay in the best hotel in Wadi Halfa. Do you remember my description of that place in Marsabit. It is the same here. You have to fetch water to wash yourself. You have to fetch water for the toilet, a hole in the ground. It doesn’t bother me anymore. I can sit and relax and don’t have to ride through sand and over stones.
My feelings about Sudan: The nature is harsh and unforgiving. I have never experienced anything like this before. But the people, I have never met before such warm, caring and friendly people. They are from heaven. I will put Sudan on top of my list of best experiences ever.
1 comment:
Baie dankie vir a lekker lees stukkie oor hierdie deel van jou reis. Ek gaan nogal gereeld Kuwait toe en ek kan beaam dat die Arabiese gasvryheid amper ongelooflik is.
Man ek wens ek het die guts gehad om te doen wat jy doen.
Geniet die ruskansie en sterkte vorentoe.
Groetnis.
Colyn.
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