We didn’t really see much of Atbara, at least not in the daylight. Instead, we definitely found more of the Sudanese warmth and friendliness that T mentioned before.
Upon arrival to Atbara bus station – or the dusty plant of land with loads of Toyota Hiluxes of all possible upgrades and minibuses the shape of large yoghurt pots that classifies as a transport station in Africa – we had mixed feelings about where to head off to. Atbara seemed like another one of the towns we’d seen on our way south so far, just slightly more crowded and visibly dirtier with litter scattered blatantly on the streets instead of just in ditches and on street corners like in the northern towns. The general layout was still the same and it wasn’t hard to find refuge at one of the many tea stands that the veiled women tend everywhere here. So I took the lead and ordered us some shai and jabbana (local coffee flavoured with ginger, cardamom and sometimes cinnamon as well) while trying to get T to drag his corpse around the corner from where he had halted with our bags.
We sat and sipped our drinks away, and were trying to locate ourselves on the map with the help of my minicompass (one I got as part of a farewell gift from colleagues - thanks guys, it has come in handy on several occasions!!) at the same time replying to the friendly chat initiated by the locals at the same stand. Next thing we noticed was a determined, well-framed Sudanese guy in black shades and a clean tidy shirt walking up to the stand and giving the tea lady some money for our drinks. As he sat down next to us, he introduced himself as “the king around here”. We tried to insinuate that it was ok for us to pay for our own drinks but he wouldn’t have any of it so we just settled to thanking him. The man offered us some jabbana to taste and noticed that I was actually already having the same thing. He nodded deeply in appreciation and offered us both some more from his own pot. Less than a couple of minutes later, another skinnier guy in a dark blue shirt with a kind smile on his face also sat down next to us. They both asked us about why we were in Atbara and about our trip in general and where we are from, as is the habit to do to khawajas (=westerners) here. They told us what they were doing in Atbara and about their work and where they are from, as it is a courtesy to reply to khawajas’ questions too. They are both engineers working at a building site of a new hospital not far from the tea stand, but are actually from Khartoum and not from Atbara. Soon they found out that we didn’t yet have a place to stay in for the night and insisted that we come to their place, as they live together. T and I looked at each other for a brief second before nodding eagerly at this lovely sign of hospitality. The matter was settled. This is how we met our new friends Mohamed “the King” and Waleed.
The guys really took us around Atbara after that. First, we went to see the building site of the hospital as the working day had not finished for them yet, and also met their boss, the main consultant set to supervise the project. Waleed was in charge of the telecommunications installations at the hospital and took us on a tour of the whole site and also to test the public announcement system. T ordered one of Mohamed’s and Waleed’s friends from downstairs to urgently come and bring some Fanta to the thirsty foreigners on the 2nd floor. There was clearly some work to be done for Waleed still, as T’s voice echoed all around the site but yet we never got our Fantas. In general, the work seemed to be well on its way and the facilities looked modern. When fully built, the hospital will have three big labs, two big surgical operation rooms, around five patient rooms per floor, a restaurant on the top floor and a veranda on the 1st floor for the patients in order for them to lounge and get some fresh air. All the main infrastructure installations had now nearly been finished and presumably the medical equipment would be brought in next. The boss consultant took us into his air-conditioned office for a lengthy chat about Sudan and treated us for some afternoon coffee and shisha at a nearby café still well within the working hours. It was critical that we drive the 200m distance to and back from the café in the boss’ Camry, as it had air-conditioning after all.
Second, after the working day had finished for the guys, Waleed took us to the shop and bought us some food and drinks before we headed back to their house in a rickshaw. We were not allowed to pay for any of this. Mohamed had already got back by the time we got to the house. We chilled for a couple of hours while the guys taught us some more Arabic and told us stories about Sudanese everyday life and the football culture. Mohamed, especially, shined out in this category and enlightened us about the teams in Khartoum: Merreikh, the government team, bad while Hilal, currently top of the league, good. You gotta believe the King!
Third, we wanted to go and see Atbara a bit more so the guys volunteered to come and escort us around. We got a couple of rickshaws around town, both sides of the railway track and to the bank of the Nile, went to the football stadium to see a bit of the training session of the local team al-Amal Atbara (who Mohamed knew half of), and finally had a big meal and some shisha and tea before heading back to the house. Again, we were not allowed to pay for anything, not even for the teas. Waleed also ran off at some point and came back with a local SIM card for which he would not take money for, even if we insisted very hard.
The bridge over the Nile. "No photos!" the guys said. "So come over here and hide, take it from here..."In the late evening back at the house we chilled some more and the guys both called their girlfriends, who we got a chance to exchange a few words with over the phone as well. We exchanged contact details, I had a shower and T gave the guys the photos from our cameras that we had been taking over the day. Both of the guys went to sleep in the other room for the night, after putting up a cheeky show of how they want to give us some time alone in the bedroom. I scanned the corners of the room for hidden cameras at this point, which caused great amusement to Waleed, the cheekier one of the two. I have strong belief that any material of the nightly actions has not been recorded.
In the morning we slept late with T again. So late it caused Waleed to be late from work, as the poor man had been waiting for us to wake up so that he can get to his wardrobe in the room we were sleeping in. I felt absolutely awful to learn this. Seems, however, that we were good enough excuse to be late from work, as to our knowledge he did not get sacked – even if the big boss had told us earlier that “there’s two reasons not to come to work: 1) you’re dead and 2) you don’t come the next day”. Waleed must be a good worker.
The guys even took us to the bus station together on their way to work and helped us get some tickets to Khartoum. We shared a final jabbana-moment with them at the station (again not spending a single Sudanese Pound of our own), meeting their preferred tea ladies of the place. Everyone here has their own favourite in this regard. We said our fond goodbyes to these incredibly friendly faces and agreed to meet them in Khartoum later in the week, as they were heading back there too, with work finished for their part of the hospital project. There was also a certain Sudan-Benin football game scheduled for the following Saturday so we promised to be in touch concerning hitting the stadium together.
On the way to Khartoum, they both called us at least four times just to make sure we were getting to our destination all good and well and only stopped calling when they could hear the taxi drivers of Khartoum haggling over us on the background.
Waleed, M and Mohamed chillin' near the big bus with no wheelsCan it get more hospitable than this? This post is dedicated to you, Mohamed and Waleed, if you ever stumble across this blog. Many great thanks for everything.
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