The Sudan - 35

Its Daisys birthday! Happy Birthday Daisy! ..... and im not there to celebrate her 17th with her. I feel ready to go home now, and so it was with some excitement that i set off this morning for the 9 hour drive back to Khartoum (I hope George has still got my cash in his safe)
Question - What do you do with a dead cow? Answer - you leave it where it drops. Ive seen dozens of dead cows today laying on the roadsides and in the fields. And what happens to them? They dont rot or decompose or get eaten by predators (there are no preditors or flys this far out in the 45deg C heat) - they simply dehydrate. They are all in various stages of their dehydration - some just dry around the nose, others looking like theyve had the air sucked out of them, and the older ones just a bunch of bones. Sometimes you might see a donkey corpse, but rarely a goat. I guess that you can carry a dead goat back home and eat it or skin it, but a cow must be virtually impossible to move, and so they just get left there. I used to see pictures of dehydrated cattle corpses in campaigns to catch our attention about the suffering of Humans in areas of drought; i used to associate this image with horror and pity and death. But as i see these dead creatures now i see them much more as a "fact of life" - "The beast is too heavy for me to drag in this heat - leave the bugger there" and LIFE moves on.
The journey back is a reverse of the journey there, and i'm surprised at my familiarity with the views - im no longer in awe of the space, or the living conditions, or the behaviours of the people i see on the way. I did note how strange it sounded when my friend asked me if i knew what the road junction was that we were approaching (a road junction is a point of interest on this very very straight road) "Oh thats the road to Ethiopia" i replied - for it was, but Ive never had the need to say that before.
We stop for breakfast at a truckstop. Im starting to feel a little silly carrying my backpack with me where ever i go. I keep it with me for safety, but safety from what, i dont know. There is no evidence of theft here - even the driver leaves the car running with the keys in it while he goes to get tea and have a pee.
I dont recognise the brand of fuel at this petrol station, but i do note on the forecourt sign post that this petrol station has "Petrol Service", "Supermarket", "Car Wash" and "Mosque". 3 young girls (9 or 10 years old?) come gliding over to our car with large trays perfectly balanced on thier heads stacked with what looks like bags of nuts. They clearly want be to buy. A little game ensues with them repeatedly saying something, and me repeatedly replying "No Thankyou". It amuses all of us, and i think that we all know that Im not going to purchase anything. A bus pulls in with its windows all wide open (we should have opening windows on our busses back home) and its passengers singing a clapping song for all they are worth - it sounds great and reminds me that i havent heard a great deal of music being sung or played while ive been here - i would have thought that song and rythmn might have been a key feature in the lives of people who havent got much else.
Our driver has bought his son along for the ride (poor kid). Yusef is 15 years old and we manage to communicate enough on our journey to learn a few things about each other. Our conversations are intereupted now and then by calls to his mobile phone from his friends. I ask Yusef about his taste in music and he plays me selections from his favourite artists on his phone; 50 Cent, Usher, Akon, Sharkera etc etc then he shows me the music videos of his favourite artists, and then videos of BMW cars, and muscle cars performing donuts. He might be born into another world, but there is no doubt that kids are all living in the same world.
George is waiting for us when we return to our hotel. There are new people sitting in the lobby - they look a bit "pedestrian", perhaps theyre just tourists. The tables have turned; Now -I- am the one who has returned from a mysterious and dangerous mission and -I- am the one being welcomed home again by George. Now -I- am the dark unshaven stranger, And the Hotel Acropole is MY domain