Sudan is the largest country in Africa and covers an area the size of western Europe. It has also been chronically in the world news for all the wrong reasons ranging from civil war with the now breakaway South Sudan through to the genocide in its southwestern corner Darfur. The US has a longstanding trade embargo on the country which further complicates attempts to enter and travel through here. In particular there is no banking facility for foreigners nor ATMs. As a consequence we are forced to carry a large reserve of cash on our persons. Also visas are a haphazard affair and very difficult to come by. Still wounded by my abortive attempts at visas for the Stans I leaped on the internet advice to contact George.
George is a Greek who’s family have lived in and operated the Acropole hotel in Khartoum for sixty years. It was a popular watering hole for expats and travelers alike until the restaurant was destroyed by Hezbollah terrorists in 1988 with 7 killed in the attack. Not to be deterred they rebuilt the hotel. George and his family not only run this tourist friendly establishment he is also a general factotum for tourist related matters including the procurement of visas and travel and photo permits in advance. All ready on arrival.
Our flight to Dubai on the “flying skip” was one of the better flights that I have taken. Troubles arose when boarding the connecting flight to Khartoum without a visa in our passport. We are initially refused entry. George has secured and emailed a written visa for us to bring but somewhat unnerving is that Anthony’s visa only mentions his first and middle name and not his surname. Fortunately George’s brother Makis has already confirmed us through the Emirates office in Khartoum earlier in the week and when they check we are allowed through.
A thick sandstorm and forboding grey storm clouds greet us at Khartoum airport. As we taxi and land we see prominent army anti aircraft guns and tanks straddling the runway. There are only 3 other passenger aircraft on the apron, the rest being mostly military. Chaos greets us at the arrival hall with hundreds of people queued up at immigration and the process proceeds at the proverbial snail’s pace. We spot the only desk marked visa and head for it to be met by a young man brandishing paper with our name written on it. George’s influence has his man meeting us in the “forbidden zone” between aircraft and immigration. Ten minutes later he has our visas in our passports and we literally jump the queue leaving behind the African sea of humanity. The baggage wait was long and anxiety provoking, will our gear get here especially through the 7 hour layover in Dubai. It was back slapping all round when our packs finally did emerge.
Our driver speeds through the dark dimly lit streets dodging the chaotic traffic on the way to the Acropole Hotel. I have the windows down and the hot night air brushes my face. I smell the smells of Africa and suddenly, despite my fatigue from flying, I am alive again! Energised I grin stupidly as my mind relives a hundred similar places that I have been to in far flung places. It is like a home coming and I am excited to be back on the road again.