A Journey to the Red Sea # 9
-9-
Going home
Returning to Kassala and Gedaref is much easier than the outward journey. We have had the foresight to book a seat on a bus and the hop to Kassala turns out to be much quicker and slightly cheaper as well. The section of road to Kassala, or at least that part of it from the small town of Haiya in the Red Sea hills, was built by the Italians between 1973 and 1980 at a cost of more than 30 million Sudanese pounds.
Similarly, the Kassala to Gedaref section was completed during the same period of time by the combined efforts of the Italians and Yugoslavs, at a similar cost whilst the Chinese built the remaining miles to Wad Medani astride the Blue Nile at about half that cost.
Prior to independence in 1956, there were only about 120 miles of metalled roads in the country, making the journey to Port Sudan from the Nile valley a mammoth undertaking. Now, because of the new road linking the Red Sea with the capital, Sudan is beginning to open up, although much remains to be done.
The next step is the construction of a road between the towns of Wad Medani and Kosti on the White Nile, and to the town of Damazin higher up the Blue Nile and south of Medani. Next, the towns of El Obeid and Niyala, well to the west of the Nile, need connecting with a road rather than tracks that are subject to flooding and hence huge delays for drivers. If these roads are built, Sudan will be able to go further to achieving its potential as a major cotton and grain exporting nation.
Returning to Gedaref and Derek’s hospitality in the rest house, we realize that the Shiada (Final Exam for Higher Secondary School pupils) is only a few days away and we still have one trip to make. The much traveled Ustaz Jeremy had told us of a village three hours from Ged, near the Ethiopian border, where the River Atbara is particularly beautiful and where swimming is safe.
The village of Safawa has little to endear it to the weary traveler; its market is not so very remarkable, consisting for the most part of ugly corrugated iron huts huddled around a square of bare earth. Its houses are mostly made from the straw from harvested sugar cane, and crowd around the edges of the market place in confusion and disorder.
In this respect it is like many villages that are sprinkled across the dry wastes of the Eastern region, and the area to the west of Gedaref in particular. What makes the village worth the three bumpy hours along twisted and rutted tracks, is the river, which lies half a mile through the village, still and brown in the shimmering heat.
At this time of the year, it is at its lowest as are all the rivers that originate in the Ethiopian highlands; the wet season is still several months away and there has been no rain for five months. The river, at the bottom of a small escarpment, probably a former meander, is a browny green colour, almost silent, stagnant and totally still.
Despite its colour and lack of movement, small boys are filling vessels made from the inner tubes of lorry wheels slung over the backs of donkeys, to provide fresh water for the villagers nearby. We reason that if it is OK to drink, it is most probably fine to swim in. In the brackish waters of these rivers, the main problem is bilharzia, a fluke wich enters the body and infects the bowel.
The fact that the locals have chosen to drink the water from this river would seem to indicate its absence. Personally, I am not entirely convinced and still need some reassurance about the absence of crocodiles, snakes and lizards or whatever.
After the others have splashed about in the water shouting me to join them, I find that the water is superb; cool and refreshing. The depth at this point also surprises me in view of the languor of the current.
Swimming and splashing about is all very well, but you’ve got to stop sometime, and in the heat of midday, by the time we have put our shoes and socks on, and we stand fully clothed again, any cooling effect quickly vanishes and the heat feels as oppressive as ever.
The trudge back up the escarpment cancels out any refreshing qualities that a bathe in a tropical river might be thought to possess. It only remains to have a look round, drink some tea and return to civilization at Gedaref.
Robert L. Fielding
Going home
Returning to Kassala and Gedaref is much easier than the outward journey. We have had the foresight to book a seat on a bus and the hop to Kassala turns out to be much quicker and slightly cheaper as well. The section of road to Kassala, or at least that part of it from the small town of Haiya in the Red Sea hills, was built by the Italians between 1973 and 1980 at a cost of more than 30 million Sudanese pounds.
Similarly, the Kassala to Gedaref section was completed during the same period of time by the combined efforts of the Italians and Yugoslavs, at a similar cost whilst the Chinese built the remaining miles to Wad Medani astride the Blue Nile at about half that cost.
Prior to independence in 1956, there were only about 120 miles of metalled roads in the country, making the journey to Port Sudan from the Nile valley a mammoth undertaking. Now, because of the new road linking the Red Sea with the capital, Sudan is beginning to open up, although much remains to be done.
The next step is the construction of a road between the towns of Wad Medani and Kosti on the White Nile, and to the town of Damazin higher up the Blue Nile and south of Medani. Next, the towns of El Obeid and Niyala, well to the west of the Nile, need connecting with a road rather than tracks that are subject to flooding and hence huge delays for drivers. If these roads are built, Sudan will be able to go further to achieving its potential as a major cotton and grain exporting nation.
Returning to Gedaref and Derek’s hospitality in the rest house, we realize that the Shiada (Final Exam for Higher Secondary School pupils) is only a few days away and we still have one trip to make. The much traveled Ustaz Jeremy had told us of a village three hours from Ged, near the Ethiopian border, where the River Atbara is particularly beautiful and where swimming is safe.
The village of Safawa has little to endear it to the weary traveler; its market is not so very remarkable, consisting for the most part of ugly corrugated iron huts huddled around a square of bare earth. Its houses are mostly made from the straw from harvested sugar cane, and crowd around the edges of the market place in confusion and disorder.
In this respect it is like many villages that are sprinkled across the dry wastes of the Eastern region, and the area to the west of Gedaref in particular. What makes the village worth the three bumpy hours along twisted and rutted tracks, is the river, which lies half a mile through the village, still and brown in the shimmering heat.
At this time of the year, it is at its lowest as are all the rivers that originate in the Ethiopian highlands; the wet season is still several months away and there has been no rain for five months. The river, at the bottom of a small escarpment, probably a former meander, is a browny green colour, almost silent, stagnant and totally still.
Despite its colour and lack of movement, small boys are filling vessels made from the inner tubes of lorry wheels slung over the backs of donkeys, to provide fresh water for the villagers nearby. We reason that if it is OK to drink, it is most probably fine to swim in. In the brackish waters of these rivers, the main problem is bilharzia, a fluke wich enters the body and infects the bowel.
The fact that the locals have chosen to drink the water from this river would seem to indicate its absence. Personally, I am not entirely convinced and still need some reassurance about the absence of crocodiles, snakes and lizards or whatever.
After the others have splashed about in the water shouting me to join them, I find that the water is superb; cool and refreshing. The depth at this point also surprises me in view of the languor of the current.
Swimming and splashing about is all very well, but you’ve got to stop sometime, and in the heat of midday, by the time we have put our shoes and socks on, and we stand fully clothed again, any cooling effect quickly vanishes and the heat feels as oppressive as ever.
The trudge back up the escarpment cancels out any refreshing qualities that a bathe in a tropical river might be thought to possess. It only remains to have a look round, drink some tea and return to civilization at Gedaref.
Robert L. Fielding
posted by Justice @ 10:12 PM
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