RIDE’S Steph hits Sudan
Friendly people, ancient pyramids and crazy petrol prices — but no killer goats
IT ALWAYS AMAZES me the difference a border can make. Neighbouring countries can have such obvious differences in the space of a few hundred meters. There were two that struck me immediately when I left Ethiopia and entered Sudan. The first was the lack of livestock on the roads.
There were still camels and goats, but here the shepherds would keep them just off the road with a practiced crowd control that was impressive. No longer did I have to stop and weave my way through the herds. Second was the lack of people asking for money. We were back to the friendly, no-agenda waving now and, as much as I loved Ethiopia, I found this refreshing.
Khartoum is a city that welcomes guests, though there didn’t seem to be many. A city that has a heart as big as the tripartite metropolis itself. It felt safe, and the traffic — though chaotic at times — seemed to give me room and respect. I find that some countries produce warm and gentle people until you put them behind the wheel of a car… Then all bets are off. Not here though.
From Khartoum, I rode north-east along a perfectly black line that cut through the desert like a welcome mat for bikers. Smooth as a racetrack and not a pot-hole or killer road goat in sight. Here you can switch on the cruise control (or jam a piece of plastic between the brake and the throttle in my case), turn up the in-helmet speakers and enjoy the uninterrupted beauty of the Sudanese wilderness. The only enemy here is the wind, which never seems to go your way or stop. This drastically increases fuel consumption, which is also a problem here is Sudan.
Since the country was divided in two, the economy has dropped and petrol has become scarce, with most stations closed or empty. Those that were open dealt with queues of irritated drivers. Thankfully, as a woman and a guest, I was always offered the place at the front of the queue. In between I would find black-market fuel which, at twice the price, was still cheap.
The small towns in the desert are wonderful places to lap-up the warm culture of Sudan, but the pyramids were my highlight. These structures are thousands of years old, unprotected and largely unvisited. I found myself alone in the shadow of their magnificence — just me, my motorbike, and 5000 years of history, surrounded by soft golden sand.
A country where beds are hard, bacon butties are illegal, showers are cold (if at all) and the only place to get a beer is at the British Embassy on a Thursday night. Some of the laws go against my personal beliefs but I couldn’t help fall in love with this country and its people.
“I couldn’t help fall in love with this country and its people”