"A plague on both your feet!"

7th-9th November 2009 – Days 40-42 – Karima, Sudan

I like Karima. Not for any particular reason, but for the same reason that I liked Dongola. It’s got that relaxed feel about it that I’ve only ever felt in the Sahara. When people are walking they walk slowly, and they will always give the Khawaja (foreigner) a smile as they walk past. There are few cars, but those that do drive past will normally have a passenger who leans out the window with a smile and a wave. People lounging around in the midday shade will call out a greeting as you walk past. Unlike in Egypt, though, you actually interpret it as a greeting rather than the beginning of a sales pitch, and it’s always a pleasure to return a smile or a wave. Much like Dongola, Karima has sandy streets and the occasional tarmac one skirted by sand “pavements”, hugs the Nile and is surrounded by fields and palm trees resisting any encroachment from the desert with attacks it from all sides. The walk from the souq where we were left by the bus wasn’t without incident – M twisted her ankle while looking at the map to find out where we should be heading and so we’re having an enforced few days here while it gets nursed back to health.

What human rights?? Brutal abuse of the physically challenged I say.

Karima is a typical north Sudanese town, nice to walk around, drenched in sunshine and buzzing with people at any time of day except between midday and 3pm, when everyone (including shopkeepers, restaurant owners and so on) retreats to the shade of their homes for a nap. Like many typical towns, it has its own little attractions and abnormalities too – Karima, unlike other towns we’ve passed, has a 150$-a-night boutique hotel, the Nubian Rest House, run by an Italian woman. We decided to aim for a spot of luxury by going there for a meal on the second night’s evening – a four course meal featuring such luxuries as spaghetti, mortadella, Italian ice cream and other things which totally remove the visitor from the surrounding country but still makes a nice change…

Karima also has Jebel Barkal, “the holy mountain”, which was revered by the ancient civilization of Kush. It has an old temple at the foot, another one inside, and a 90m statue of a cobra carved out of the side. More importantly, it’s good fun to climb up. By the third day here, M’s ankle has recovered enough to let her scramble up Jebel Barkal, and her slightly slower pace is matched as my sandals from Cairo have started disintegrating. Well equipped as always, then, we start the ascent of Jebel Barkal, picking our way to the top across rocks and soft patches of sand and after half an hour or so the view from the top is laid out in front of us – the town of Karima to the east, the setting sun to the west, the pyramids of Karima to the north, and the Nile snaking its way past from horizon to horizon. It’s a beautiful sight and we sit and watch while the sun goes down. A guy comes to say hello for a few minutes and as darkness falls, we run down a sandy face of the Jebel, at a much quicker pace than we went up at. Heading back to town we bump into Sean at the bus ticket office, where we get tickets for Atbara tomorrow.

Karima from above

Karima also has El Kurru, a site where there used to be some pyramids. Having visited El Kurru (and walked half of the way back to Karima because there were no more minibuses) we can deliver the following report: it sucks. It looks more like a quarry than an ancient cemetery.

We actually saw this car move!

Introducing ourselves to the locals, El Kurru. Their analysis of their town? "El Kurru UGLY!"

We don’t know much about Atbara but it’s a convenient stopping off place on the way to Khartoum and we decide to spend a night there before heading down to the capital. As seems to happen in these towns, on the walk back to the hotel we are showered in greetings, both from people who we don’t know and people who we do – the cigarette man, the guy in the hat who always says hello as we walk past his shop, the rickshaw driver who gave us a lift a few days ago and still gives us a smile whenever we cross him. It’s another show of Sudanese warmth and friendliness, which hopefully will continue in the bigger cities we’ll see further on.