The Sudan - 1

Stepping off the plane into the evening heat of Khartoum makes me suddenly realise that my mission has commenced. A "mission" sounds a bit grand - but thats what these IFAD people call these trips.
Ive never had my hand luggage xray'd on entering a country before and i soon come to realise why one of my suitcases has had a large cross chalked on it during its transit - im directed toward a chaotic corner of the airport customs where i have to show the contents to what i presume to be an official. Hes rather more interested in the argumentitive family with what appears to be shredded cabbage in their suitcases. I get a sticker of approval and go outside in search of my driver.

Why is his dashboard covered in a thick woolen carpet underlay type material? is it to stop the dashboard from melting in the sun? not that much sun light comes into this car with its blacked windows all but for the letter box slot that the driver peers through. The roads and traffic remind me of New Delhi - chaotic and dusty, but a little less noisy (hooters are for drawing attention here, not for confirming that the driver is alive). At every junction a police man patrols to check presumably car tax stickers, and young men walk up and down in the hope of selling a box or two of tissues - every car has a box of tissues on the dashboard (a flowery, girly sort of box - most strange - you'd think that if this were a required item for every car, someone would have by now either made a slot for it in the dashboard or have advertising or entertainment printed on the box its-self)
Im driven up and down dusty unmade back streets toward i hope my hotel. Im a little more relieved when we get onto a mettaled road, only to be a little taken aback to arrive at a back enterance to what appears to be an office block?

The Hotel is fine - everything works enough. And in the grand scheme of things why should it work any more than enough. i have a hard double bed with crisp sheets, i have aircon and a ceiling fan, i have a western style loo with 2 rolls of soft loo paper and i have a shower and bath.
And there is wireless internet. before ive even taken my now very dusty shoes off, i hook up and call the family. thank heavens for Skype. Im here for 17 days, and instead of wallowing in my slight pangs of homesickness, i can talk with my wife about holiday plans and blown light bulbs.
I read with interest that this is the oldest hotel in Khartoum - from the 50's - a creation of a chap from the Greek island Kefalonia. I read that "during its reign of five decades" the hotel has seen some "easy times and witnessed also some hard times" particularly when in 1988 a terrorist attack "blew off the main building killing 7 people and injuring several others"

Dinner looks fine. I choose a baked potato, some roasted vegetables and an orange. A gentleman in a turban informs me that the plate im using is for soup - didn't i want soup or some meat? Im sure that all is well here, but ive been ruined by the influence of a colleague whilst in India who would only eat what he knew wouldnt "upset" him. Ive got work to do here and i dont want to be ill, so for the time being if i can peel it of it looks like its been well cooked, thats good enough for me.. though i should really wash my hands a bit more before eating.

Theres a mosquito in my room. i think its only one. and i havent yet been able to splat him with a clap of my hands. I keep my aircon on - its supposed to subdue them - but im starting to get a bit chilly myself. ive got my mosquito replent on, though i think its starting to etch away the plastic of my laptop where my hands rest to type.

I had to do a 3 hour course on personal safety before coming out on this "mission" - it was only the basic course so only covered things like kidnap, rape, child soldiers, AIDS etc - ill get onto the advanced course for the next mission. It did however cover suggestions like choosing a room between 2nd and 5th floor (not so near to the ground that people can easily break in, but not so high that you can escape in the event of... ??) and how to refuse your room if the hotel manager calls out your room number for others to hear. So it was with intrepidation that i lay in my bed next to the french windows with broken lock onto the terrace having been warmly welcomed earlier to "Room 16". Ive got over a grand of dollars stashed around my various suitcases (they dont have ATMs and credit cards here in Sudan, and they dont handle travelers cheques - only hard cash - ive chosen to bring dollars, but euros and sterling would do just as well). What with the threat of terrorism, robbery and that bloody mosquito, it was a miracle that i slept so soundly all night