Category: Travel

Sudan

History on display

Post author By Peter Meggyesy
Post date 13 October 2014

Khartoum is an intrinsically ugly town. Home to 5 million Sudanese it is squat and low rise. Most of the buildings are a monotonous sandy colour and there no supermarkets nor lively shopping areas.

Heightened security from decades of war restricts photography. The best view of the only natural attraction, the confluence of the White and Blue Nile is from a road bridge which is guarded by police and no photos are allowed.

Blue and White Niles meet as taken from the restaurant on the 17th floor of the Centurion Hotel

History is what dusty little Khartoum specialises in and in this area it has attractions galore! Most notable is the magnificent National Museum with its treasure trove of relics from the time of the ancient Egyptians. Smaller than the Cairo museum it makes up for the lack of size with quality and intimacy. Anthony and I were the only two westerners there.

The other historical attractions are 2000 years younger dating from the end of the 19th century and the British occupation of Sudan already alluded to. Perhaps the most poignant is Lord Kitchener’s Nile gunboat El Malik used in the battle of Omdurman where the British set out to avenge General Gordon’s murder and to reacquire Sudan. Sadly lies unloved and ramshackle partially buried in Nile silt well away from the water’s edge and used as a storage dump by the Blue Nile sailing club.

The Mahdi’s mausoleum, north of the city centre in Omdurman is a more recent but no less impressive edifice. Marking a memorial to the man who led the Islamic uprising that took Khartoum and killed the charismatic Gordon.

The Mahdi mausoleum is actually a memorial The Mahdi's ashes were thrown into the Nile by Lord Kitchener's son. — The Mahdi mausoleum is actually a memorial The Mahdi’s ashes were thrown into the Nile by Lord Kitchener’s son.

Sudan Uncategorized

Secret women’s business in Sudan

Post author By Peter Meggyesy
Post date 13 October 2014

Sipping fragrant clove tea in the shade opposite the Blue Nile. It is a toasty 37C at this “pop up” tea stall by the roadside. Next to me in a wheel chair i a one legged man. I look at the remaining leg fleetingly, oh he seems to have a moon boot on that one as well. Slowly my mind processes the African reality and I glance back to confirm my diagnosis. There is no orthotic on his leg the massive leg is a result of an impressive case of elephantiasis. The reason for this colorful name for the parasite infestation of his lymphatics is never better illustrated than by looking at massive elephant like leg on this man.

The women of Sudan, in accordance with Sharia law are veiled.Interestingly enough most wear hijabs These sit loosely over their heads, not covering their happy African faces but rather function as a colourful fashion accessory. A smaller minority wear the the more conservative niqabs which has them veiled in black with only the eyes uncovered. If they are also wearing glasses then the cover seems total and the look is positively alien!

All around us at the tea stall sit men quietly whittling away lumps of wood into small pieces. Stalls all around sell the bagged up kindling along with fragrant acacia and sandalwood to women for the unique ritual of dukhan. It is a tradition that goes back generations and is uniquely Sudanese. Women start on their wedding day and will continue it regularly throughout their married life. The wood is taken home and lit until it is hot coal. The fragrances are put on top and the smouldering coals are put on the ground. She undresses, wraps a blanket around herself an sits over the coals literally smoking her skin. The benefits are said to include fragrance, tanning of the skin and, supposedly, tightening of the vagina to enhance their husband’s sexual pleasure.

Chair, bagged wood and henna paint. Let the Dukhan begin!

Unlike the west, this is a society where open expressions of sexuality are banned.Media depictions of sexuality or the exposed female form are similarly banned. Even the laundry service at our hotel states “We apologize for not accepting ladie’s (sic) underwear” Presumably dirty knickers must titillate here! Imagine the excitement then when a Sudanese man comes home and smells smoke on his wife’s skin!

Come on baby light my fire!

Sudan

Khartoum

Post author By Peter Meggyesy
Post date 12 October 2014

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.

Sudan

General Gordon and the rise of Islamic fundamentalism

Post author By Peter Meggyesy
Post date 7 October 2014

I first dreamt of travelling to the Sudan as a teenage boy. My grandmother would take us to the op shop at Ashburton where I would scour the book section and indulge my passion for reading. One of my favourites was the “White Nile” a ripping yarn of British exploration in the deep heart of Africa written by Alan Moorhead in 1962.

One of the more tragic stories within the book was that of the British occupation of the Sudan in the mid 1800 and the last British governor, General Gordon a heroic soldier who was sent by Prime Minister Gladstone to evacuate all Egyptian and Europeans from the Sudan due to the rebel threat. Gordon arrived in Feb 1884 and fortified and held the besieged Khartoum for 11 months. Ultimately Mohammed Ahmed who called himself the Mahdi (one who would rid the world of all evil) led the successful Sudanese Muslim uprising. Gordon was killed and beheaded all of which has an eerie resonance today.

So it is to the Sudan I venture. I want to see what, if anything remains of the fort that Gordon defended, nestled on the land protected on two sides by the confluence of the blue and white Nile. The Mahdi’s tomb still exists on an island in the Nile. Then there is the assortment of fabulous ancient Egyptian temples and pyramids north of Khartoum.

From Sudan it is unfinished business in Ethiopia with a 4 day safari into the Danakil depression. Straddling the border with Eritrea it is 100metres below sea level and one of the hottest places on earth. The landscape is reminiscent of Mars and the climax here will be a night sleeping out in the open on the rim of an active volcano. The finale is a brief transit through the tiny Djibouti wedged between Eritrea and Somalia.

I depart on Friday and am only away for a short 2 weeks. Large chunks of the trip will see us “off the grid” so postings may be late and well after the event but I will endeavour to keep you all posted while I am away.

Death of General Gordon

Six Stans in six weeks Travel

Almaty

Post author By Peter Meggyesy
Post date 6 October 2013

Kazakhstan is the most Russian of all the Stans. Of course geographically it is the closest to Russia, but the prevailing vibe here is European rather than Asian. Paradoxically the people here have the most Asiatic faces I have seen on this trip.
The former capitol and business hub, Almaty could be relocated to anywhere in Europe in the blink of an eye and one would still feel at home. This is a city of long tree lined boulevards sporting the best of haute couture boutiques. Cafes spill onto foot paths, impromptu art and craft stands are everywhere and buskers add further life and colour.
For a city of only 1 million inhabitants it has the western curse of peak hour traffic jams and it is not until you look down from the lookout at Kok tobe that you notice the dirty brown smog that blankets the city.
Almaty sits at the south eastern corner of the country right up against the borders with China and Kyrgyzstan. This was one of the factors mitigating against it remaining the capitol. Its location, though, has it nestled in the Tian Shan mountains to the south. In fact the mountains are visible from anywhere within the city. Even if you could not see them their presence is felt as all the north south streets slope significantly upwards the further south you go.
The mountains also mean that world class ski and skating resorts are on the city’s doorstep. For me as a tourist it is a 50cent bus to the resort at Shymbaluk. From there in the off season the ski lifts dont run but it is a stiff 3 hour climb from 2000 metres to 3000 metre Talgar pass to be among the mountains and glaciers again. Lucky that Pamir acclimatisation to 5000 metres hangs around for a few weeks!

Six Stans in six weeks Travel

Kazakhstan’s grand canyon

Post author By Peter Meggyesy
Post date 3 October 2013

This was Stalin’s favourite food says our chatty guide, Marat. He would eat his Latvian sprats on the best bread with Armenian brandy. Ot made me wonder what the millions he locked into gulags were eating at that time. As I am aitting here munching on Stalin’s sardines al fresco I also seriously doubt that he had a view to rival mine.

I am sitying on the edge of Charyn canyon some 210 kms down a very bumpy road east of Almaty in Kazakhstan, near the Chinese border. 12 million years ago a river carved this gorge through soft rock. Millenia of erosion has sculpted a fantastic wonderland reminiscent of the Grand Canyon. At only 90 miles in length it is very much a miniature of its American prototype.

After lunch we walk down into the canyon down a slippery scree slope braving the near gale force winds.

It is another 3 km through the magnificently sculptured and evocatively named Valley of the Castles before I reach the fast flowing blue green waters of the river for a photo and a wash. While there I exchange pleasantries with an extended Kazakh family seated havong a BBQ lunch. Before I know it I am tasting BBQ mushrooms and munching on melons thrust into my hands. Then, dear readers can you guess what is next? Yes its vodka time and here we are toasting each other’s countries and would you believe it, world peace!! Some chut chuts and 3 shots later I drag myself away from my new best friends to climb back out of the canyon for the drive home.

Six Stans in six weeks Travel

Dubai of the steppes

Post author By Peter Meggyesy
Post date 2 October 2013

It is only a brief 90 minute flight from the 30 degrees heat of Osh but walking outof the airport terminal it is only 5 degrees here and the wind is icy.Welcome to Astana, the capitol of Kazakhstan. It is less than a month since summer ended here. Moscow is a further 2000km north and it is just on freezing point there. Suddenly the lessons of history crystallize in my mind. Napoleon and Hitler defeated by the Russian cold, were not complete fools. Unless you experience how cold it gets here and how quickly you cannot hope to understand.

Almaty is the largest city and business hub of the oil and mineral resource rich Kazakhstan. It was also the capitol until the dictator president Nazarbaev named this place, a medium sized provincial city as the site of a new grand, and grandiose, capitol in 1994. Renamed Astana, which in Kazakh means capitol, it is a growing city of extravagant and futuristic architecture in the middle of flat and bleak steppes.

This is a fascinating experimental city and a photographic gold mine. There is just one problem that this place shares in common with all contrived new developments. It lacks soul. The streets are empty there are no vendors, cafes nor any signs of life. Sadly I am left feeling as cold inside as I am on the outside.
Enjoy these weird and wonderful pictures.

Six Stans in six weeks Travel

Kyrgyzstan

Post author By Peter Meggyesy
Post date 27 September 2013

All too quickly the trip with Saidali and Ismail of the Pamir guides winds down to the inevitable conclusion. After Murghab its a night at the azure blue Karakul Lake, followed the last day with the Kyzlart border crossing into Kyrgyzstan and the dizzying descent down to the heat of Osh at a positively oppressive 1000metres above sea level. There is just time for a day sightseeing around this attractive green modern central Asian city.

Karakul Lake

Pamir Alay Range from Kyrgyzstan

I bid my travelling companion Anthony goodbye as I fly out in the evening to Bishkek, the capitol of Kyrgyzstan ad that same night at 2 am to my final Stan, Kazakhstan. It is an exhauting night with snatches of broken sleep caught on hard airport benches before a 4 am arrival to Astana, the capitol of Kazakhstan. Just as Anthony before me I wait before an empty “Visa on arrival” window. When I gently ask one of the female customs people she berates me for arriving without a visa. She maintains there is no such thing as visa on arrival despite the fact that there is a counter for just that. After about 20 minutes a grumpy consular official arrives and I have my visa within 10 minutes. I then have to make myself understood at the lost luggage counter as my pack has already been removed as everyone else has cleared off. Finally emerge into the arrivals hall for another couple of hours of hard sleep on airport benches.

Six Stans in six weeks Travel

Murghab

Post author By Peter Meggyesy
Post date 27 September 2013

Behind Khorog Murghab is the second “city” of the Pamirs. Unlike Khorog there is not a single blade of grass or any other greenery or vegetation here. This is a depressing town of ugly squat scruffy mud brick buildings. Many have been whitewashed in the past, probably in Soviet times when this poor area fared well in the attempt to equalise the living standards throughout the USSR. Since the collapse of the soviet empire, Murghab has reverted to its desperately poor status.

Our travelling today matched the lowered mood a low key day up the Madian Valley. Our first stop was at the hotsprings. A landslide 2 years ago wiped out the road so the last 2km was a walk and a creek rock hop to what is a set of derelict buildings. The spring “bath” is functional but without human input to mix the hot spring with cold river water the bath water is unbearably scalding.

After a lengthy wait for lunch we visit 3000 year old petroglyphs only to find the addition of 20th century graffiti marring the whole experience. The mindless cultural vandalism leaves us feeling angry.

Murghab

Six Stans in six weeks Travel

A road less travelled

Post author By Peter Meggyesy
Post date 27 September 2013

We bid ourt yurt family adieu today and once again set off on another rough dirt track to Murghab. Our guide has avoided large chunks of the actual Pamir Highway for more scenic off road experiences and we are loving it!

We are on a track that sees no traffic. The landscape is protean here. The flat dry valley floor extends for miles in all directions. On one side are deep brown to ochre hills sculpted by erosion into fantastic shapes. On the other are the blackest of snow capped mountains all composed of crumbling shale. The occasional yak and goat herds graze on the valley floor and we stop at villages that see no traffic, let alone tourists. In one spot enjoying their hospitality of tea, bread and tasty yak yoghurt.

A dip in very hot hotsprings and a visit to see 3000 year old petroglyphs complete an idyllic day.