The Sudan - 34

In a country where water is a scarce resource it seems a shame that so many of the taps leak and underground pipes are cracked.
As i stood in the sunshine drying my hair after my roof-top shower this morning, i was watching the comings and goings of people below. I don’t even bat an eye anymore when i see a man on a bike with 2 headless and skinless goats slung over his handlebars, dripping blood from the necks as he cycles past our guest house.
Today was supposed to Sudan census day. Everyone was to remain at home to be counted. It was postponed (its been postponed before) Can you imagine what it would be like to try and account for everyone here - including those out in the wilderness - there must be tens of thousands of individuals asleep under a bush somewhere with their goats. And even if you could count all the people, how would you record them? they don’t know their birth-dates, have no fixed address, and often are reluctant to give you their name. The whole thing has political implications that has knock-on implications to the peace or not of the country - its a nightmare.
I managed to get 15 minutes in the sunshine today - i was waiting for a driver. 15 minutes is about all you can bear at midday (it was my toes in my flip-flops that were burning the most) - the sun here even has a smell - its the most lovely smell of well-being - you really can breathe it in. As i waited i kicked around in a pile of litter on the dried and cracked land (is it a road? is it waste land? is it a garden? is it a field? - outside our office could be all those things - i’ll call it land) There is a lot of litter here. I wonder why there is so much litter if the majority of the population is poor. Among the rubbish, there is the omnipresent discarded half liter water bottles and drinks cans of course, and theres cigarette packets, tablet blister packets, a signal toothpaste package, a disposable nappy, and a few odd shoes. These don’t appear to me to be the waste of a poor country - i’d say these were signs of people who could afford stuff. That said, Kasalla is actually quite a developed town so maybe they like signal toothpaste.
“Mr Tim” comes a shout and a wide-grinning fellow comes striding over and shakes my hand “I like your diagram. For me, diverge, converge. Very good, very good” - I take that as positive feedback on the previous days work, and note it to include in the evaluation report
And so this is my last night in Kassala. Every one here wants to know what i think of Sudan? What do i think of Kassala? What do I think of the Sudanese? Well, my trip isn’t over yet, and i certainly haven’t seen enough of Sudan to say what i think of it in general. But I think i can say that i will miss my crappy room in the grubby guesthouse with Isha our cook and the two gentlemen with whom i had long conversations with over our breakfast and tea. I’ll miss the project team with whom i have been working with and for whom i have great respect for the work that they are doing. I shall miss the little bit of Kassala that i have come to know, and the hot, dry sunshine, and the most delicious grapefruits in the world. The people here are lovely, and as the sun sets behind the mountains i cross the dust track from the office to the guest house and wave to a weather beaten old man sitting astride a tired old donkey. He raises his beaten stick with a smile in recognition, and as he passes me, his donkey lets out a tired, long slow fart. Just to remind me not to get too sentimental.