Tag: sudan

  • Through the Nubian Desert

    Dearest,

    I write you from Hurgada, since the bike is not ready, I better take the chance to write you and as some of you know sciallarmi la ghianda a little bit. It was impressive to arrive from the desert accompanied by a mighty wind into such a big temple of tourism and wealth. It was quite hard to go straight on the road as huge masses of heat from the desert and cool from the sea were clashing on the cost giving birth to a might wind, but slowly slowly, I reached. You can tell that tourism business is lower than usual however there is a considerable amount of visitors particularly from Russia and east Europe. I reached, as usual in my trip with my old bike, with some problems as the oil leakage peaked and a little barbecue was taking place on the beginning of my exhaust pipe due to the drops of engine oil.

    While overwhelmed by the sight of the blue Red sea I was looking for a mechanic who could replace my gasket and rethread the worn out bolts. Suddenly I saw a white dressed man with a long beard looking friendly on his chopper and willing to show me the way. I felt it was good to follow him. His name is Ragab, or Sheikh (Imam) Ragab as people in the neighborhood call him. After picking his child from school he took me around very kindly to look for somebody who could help me. Eventually he offered me hospitality in his office which is rightfully called “the Generosity of Islam”. He his a coiffeur by profession but his office is used to spread information about his religion to tourist.

    Just like in Sudan I immediately felt at home, welcomed genuinely by Ragab and his group of friends with whom I spent the last two nights. Before yesterday we remained long after midnight in front of his shop were Eiman, Ahmed, Osman, Hamdy, Mohamed and Talal were curious to understand and compare my religion with theirs. The most crucial point for Eiman was the concept of trinity. Who should you address your prayers if you have three Gods? He said. After a couple of attempts to explain the trinity I thought it wiser to oversimplify and say that Father, Son and Holy Spirit are just different name of God. Just like Islam has over 33 names we can pray God with different names too. He was not convinced, but happy to hear from me. It was a pleasant night and they covered me with nice little presents: books, perfumes, teeth cleaning sticks and Taqiyah, the round hat wear by Muslim.

    Last night Ragab asked me if I wanted to join a meeting on the situation of Morsi, and I thought it could be interesting to better understand the reasons of both parties. The way I understood the word meeting, was a gathering in a house to talk with his friends, just like the night before. Eventually a video camera showed up and we were suddenly in a taxi. I had that feeling that I usually have when I am about to find myself in troubles. In five minutes we were in a huge square with thousands of people demonstrating in favor of Morsi. I thought of going away as it was not my cause. But I ended up thinking that it was a unique opportunity to listen to the reasons that are less covered by the media.

    I think there were around five thousand people, but when asking the people around me they were thinking at twenty thousand. Ragab reason for taking part in the demonstration was both religious and political. The latter one focused on the fact that Morsi was elected by Egyptians for the first time in their history with free elections and despite is many mistakes he must be given a chance to go on with his legislature allowing him to take on board the unrepresented political parties who caused the Tamarod movement. I acknowledge his legal perspective, and that is what most of the people, a part from religious minorities said to me in the cities that I have visited.

    The manifestation was definitely peaceful and leaders were asking participants to leave way to traffic and to respect army and police vehicle passing by. The slogan used where blaming Fattah Al-SiSi (Ministry of defense) of military coup and warned him of stepping out of office because their president is Morsi. They were stressing that Egypt is an Islamic country and that the Sharia should rule. Men, children, elders and few women were energetically shouting backed by loud music repeating an old song from 1973 which became popular after the infamous war of the Yom Kippur. Bismillah bismillah, Allah Akbar Allah Akbar . The Imam which was next to me (Omar) told me, this is from 1973 when we won the war. Arab countries won in the sense that they manage to unlock the stalemate against negotiations supported by Golda Meir and Kissinger but the lives toll in that conflict was 2,838 dead Israelis against 8,528 Egyptians and Syrians. (Thanks Antunyy for your great book). Anyway. Omar the Imam next to me went on explaining that this was a military coup to restore Mubarak regime. Egyptians have tasted freedom and they will not let it go. He thinks that the army is causing all the security problems in order to let the international community thinks that the army is the only solution to control Egypt. Yes he said they are the one killing Christian and peaceful strikers in the roads. But Inshalh by the power of God and the power of the street we will have our President back. He warned me that behind Tamarod movement (in Arabic it means the rebel) who started the demonstration which paved the way for the removal of Morsi, there is Saudi Arabia, Oman, United Arab Emirates and the US. They all fear a democratic government because it might lead the way for revolution in their own stronghold. By not taking any side the US are strongly criticized by both pro and anti Morsi supporters.

    I asked Omar about Morsi nominating Ade Assad El Khayat, a member of Jamat-Al Jihad as governor of Luxor. Said group is famous for their violent agenda, claiming the only way to change the political situation is through violence. In 1997, dressed as policemen, some members of this group slaughtered 50 tourists in the temple of Hatshepsut queen in Luxor. Omar claimed that the group shifted its thought after the revolution of 2011 being convinced that a peaceful solution to the change of regime was possible and that he resigned after two weeks in order not to embarrass the president. He went on by saying that Morsi was respectful of all his critics but this respect eventually led the way to his removal.

    The parade ended at 2 in the night in front of a luxury resort (Sea gull) in Sheraton Avenue owned by a high army officer. Such officer organized a parade when SiSi took the power away from the muslim brotherhood, in the same way the parade provocatively stopped for prolonged dancing in front of the resort writing in huge characters on the road in both Arabic and English GO OUT SISI, GO OUT. This morning I went to check and the paintings were already removed.

    My dear friends asked me what I thought about their little revolution. It was difficult to answer to people who have been so good to you when you know that you might offend their feelings. I looked for all the diplomatic democristianity inside me and said: Shuf Aku (Look brother), this is not my cause. I am impressed by the mass commitment to what you believe is the public good. However I think that the emphasis should not be on stressing that Egypt is an Islamic country. This is precisely the reason for which they managed to remove Morsi from power. It might be that he did not have a chance to prove whether he was a good leader or a bad leader, and for this you have to insist on where is my vote? Where are the next three years of this legislature? I honestly do not think that government should be led by religion. Otherwise you will have another Omar El Bashir. A religious government pave to way for dictatorship as it is justified among masses by the power of God. In truth I think that God do not need men to show his way on this world, because he has already put his seed in each one of us.

    I received no answer. Probably he expected more support after I saw the manifestation. They said that they will strike every night until Morsi will be back in power. The situation is quite volatile. This post is getting a bit long but I can not omit transmitting you a bit of the beauty I was exposed to from Khartoum up to here.

    Visiting Meroe Royal Cemetery has been a blast. I was the only visitor and honestly felt like Indian jones. A little bit less glorious as I approached the site on the back of a donkey. The wind was whispering to my hear tales of thousands of years ago while imaging naked chest men working to erect those majestic monuments to remember their leader forever. I also thought of Dr. Giuseppe Ferlini an Italian Surgeon working in the Egypt army during the occupation of Sudan. In 1834 he traveled to Meroe in his quest for treasures, he uncapped various pyramids with dynamite. He was relatively successful but in Europe nobody believed that such fine gold jewellery could come from the black Africa, he eventually managed to sell his stolen treasures to some museum in Berlin and Munich where they are still fund to this days.

    Crossing the Nile on the way to Karima was a joy for the heart, seeing what such a miraculous amount of water can turn the desert into luxuriant vegetation. During the first day of desert crossing I was mentally enthusiast and enjoyed my loneliness in a place where life is not welcome. This allowed me to take the best out of Karima, climbing Jebel Barkal wondering of the first Christian who set their feet in sudan in the II century exactly there. I also rejoiced to go on prayer on Sunday with a group of southerners from Unity and Jonglei who ere still in the north as their children where finishing schools. They were not happy about separation and I could just encourage them in the hope that one day Sudan will be united again.

    During the second day of desert crossing to Dongola, the bike had some hiccups and a sense of fear breached in my heart. No life up to the horizon, only the wind and the heat. What if… I better not think too much. Yet the more I was rejecting the thought of stopping to work on the bike the more I was scared and an awkward headache conquered my head. Good enough my prayer calm me down and allowed me to reach nice Dongola where I could rest and work a bit on the bike. With a new fuel filter and a new spark plug I was back on track and ready for the last 400 Km to Wadi Halfa.

    There I met two Hucranian travelers called Pasha and Ksander, who are hitch hiking from Tanzania whom I knew from the Sudanese embassy in Addis. It was nice to share with them the trip even though I was so exhausted that I close myself like a larva in my sleeping bag on the deck of the ferry lulled by the wind and the stars.

    Gorgeous and majestic was the appetizer of Egypt civilization, the Abu Simbel temple on the western shore of Lake Nassir with the colossi of Ramses II looking proudly at us, reminding us of a time where religion was used to rule the country. It was among the many temples part of the huge archeological salvation mission organized by some 30 countries including US, URSS and Italy which in the sixties organized the transfer of all the temples that would have been submerged by the high Aswan Dam.

    Getting the bike in Egypt was an expensive headache which lasted one week. Good enough I used this time to cruise Aswan and Luxor with Pasha and Ksander. It was nice to wonder around with them reading about the miths and legends of ancient Egypt. Allow me to mention only my favorite, even though many of them are fascinating, I will be happy to tell you more about the genealogy of the Ennad the nine main Gods of ancient Egypt headed by Ra who created the world out of primeval waters giving life to the air and the mist god through swallowing his own seed. The myth I will narrate is the one of Maat and Isfet. They are the concept of truth and falsehood.

    Maat and Isfet were brothers. The latter borrowed his best knife to Maat and by accident the knife got lost. Isfet who was very jealous of Maat success refuse any other knife in return and took his brother in front of the jury of Gods stressing that: Its blade came from the copper of the mountain of El, its handle from the wood of Koptus, its scabbard from the tomb of the God and its belt from the herds of El. The court favored Isfet and this God of falsehood insisted that the eyes may be removed from his brother and that he will serve for ever at his door as a servant. And so it happened.

    However Maat presence was a reminder for Isfet of his sense of guilt and thus asked his servant to take him to the desert and leave him in the land of Lions where is flesh would be devoured. Nevertheless the servants listen to the prayer of Maat and lead him out of town but did not take him to the lions’ land. They return to their Lord stressing that they accomplished the given task.

    For several days Truth wondered around in the desert and valleys, until a woman saw him and strucked by his beauty, superior to the one of any other men she invited him to go home with her. They spent many hours together and that night the woman became pregnant of truth. The boy grew healthy and clever like no other boy in that land, and his mate out of jealously were mocking him: Whose son are you? In deep sorrow the boy went to his mother to refer the question. She answered, you see the blind doorkeeper at our gate? In truth he is your father. Moved by compassion the boy went to him and listened to his story. Once he heard how falsehood had unfairly treated him he set for a journey to avenge hid father. He took with him a gorgeous Ox, ten loaves of bread, a staff and a sword.

    When he reached falsehood’s herdsman he asked I have traveled far and far to go, would you look after my Ox until I return? The boy gave him the bread the staff and the sword in reward and went. Months went by and Isfet (falsehood) visited his herd and impressed by the beauty of that ox asked it to be killed. When the shepard said it was not his and thus not possible he said he will not mind the words of a kid and that he will give him in compensation any other Ox.

    The boy learnt of this and returned to claim his animal. The herdsman told him that he could choose any in compensation. But the boy challenged falsehood to face the same court of Gods which judge the trail with his brother the truth. Is there any Ox as large as mine? If it would stand on the Island of Amun, his tail would rest on the papyrus marshes while his horns would stretch between the eastern and western mountains the great river would be his bath spot and it would give birth to sixty calves a day. The court warned the boy that no such animal exists and so he smartly challenged them. Is there any knife which blade came from the copper of the mountain of El, its handle from the wood of Koptus, its scabbard from the tomb of the God and its belt from the herds of El? I am Truth son and I came to avenge him.

    Falsehood started shaking and said that: By Amun and by the King if truth be found alive may I be blinded in both eyes. The boy came with his father and the court saw the truth in what he said and thus condemned Isfet to the greatest punishment. One hundred blows, five open wounds, be blinded to both eyes and be put at the truth door as a servant forever.

    Yalla, my bike should be ready and Ragab called me to go and great him as tomorrow I will start my journey to Suez and then down to Jebel Moussa (Mount Sinai). I would have preferred to go by boat but as no such service is available I will confront with some more days of desert wind, with its sandy snakes flying on the road and over me all the time.

    A strong hug to each of you.

    Gabri

  • To Khartoum

    Dearest,

    It is late at night and in few hours I will be heading north towards the legendary Meroe Royal city with its pyramids in the warm desert. I want to write now this update as these days were intense and particularly gifted with good luck and great people.

    Reaching Addis I could only think about fixing the bike as too many little problems were affecting it (rear tyre, starter, chain and lights). I met a good fellow with a bicycle while getting closer to the famous Piazza. Charlie. Long reddish beard good British eyes, he asked me where I was heading to and offered to take me to a place where three other bikers were fixing their motorbikes. That is how I ended up in Wim’s Holland place just next to the Chemin de fer the station which used to run trains between Ethiopia and Djibuti. I meet the two Archies and Chris whose journey started in Edinburgh and will end in cape town, they looked much stronger in spirit than me. I could tell their hearts were lighter than mine. I was still vexed by the anxiety of respecting the itinerary. They were not. Not even mentioning Charlie whose trip started in London by bicycle and covered in the last 3 and half years a good portion of the whole world. It took me a week to learn from them. Indeed after Addis I started to enjoy the journey at a different pace. Understanding that I can not dictate the time of embassies, mechanics, spare shops and everything that surrounds me, it was quite a big discovery for me, as I made of time control and maximization a must in my life and my work since the last years of my university. Becoming conscious that time can not be always tamed makes one content, accepting it might return happiness.

    Flavio was a wonderful mechanic dismantling the whole of my clutch carter including the clutch to find out what the hell was wrong with my starter. He discouraged me saying I would have needed two weeks to get the spare, but against the odds I got that little spare in the Yamaha shop next to Piazza, opened 2 months earlier by Armenian migrants. Ron, a friend of Wim also helped a lot in fixing some oil leakages. By the way, surprisingly Wim was a colleague of Staffan de Mistura during is duty in Khartoum at wfp, he confirmed me the anecdote of Mother Theresa of Kolkata. I was excited about that.

    The staying in Addis was boosted by the invitation to lunch after the mass (in Italian) by Stefano and his wife Elena, their introduction to Ethiopian historic wonders was pivotal in enjoying my stay in Ethiopia. I won’t start lonely planeting the tourist spot I visited, however I was honestly moved by the historical site pertaining the Italian occupation as well as Halie Selassie way of returning to power in 1941 thanks to italy’s alignment with Germany during WWII which triggered the support of the UK. The latter never really listened to the heroic speeches of Halie Selassie denouncing Italy’s use of chemical weapons during the conquest of his land. Further proof of how realist international politics is likely to be the most consistent interpretation of history. However here is part of his speech when in May after six years of Italian occupation he returned to Addis:

    Today is the day on which we defeated our enemy. Therefore, when we say let us rejoice with our hearts, let not our rejoicing be in any other way but in the spirit of Christ. Do not return evil for evil. Do not indulge in the atrocities which the enemy has been practicing in his usual way, even to the last.

    Take care not to spoil the good name of Ethiopia by acts which are worthy of the enemy. We shall see that our enemies are disarmed and sent out the same way they came. As Saint George who killed the dragon is the Patron Saint of our army as well as of our allies, let us unite with our allies in everlasting friendship and amity in order to be able to stand against the godless and cruel dragon which has newly risen and which is oppressing mankind

    Halie Selassie could be considered a sort of predecessor of Gheddafi, a visionary pan African who enjoyed the Jamaican thoughts of his person as the new messiah as he was of Davidic lineage and apparently performed certain miracles when in Kingstone, supposedly he stopped a drought. The song Iron Lion Zion by uncle Bob is dedicated to him.

    After a week in the capital I understood the above mentioned concept of time related to my trip but still I was very happy to hit the road again. Reaching Lalibela everything went smooth, beside a majestic and awe-inspiring hailstorm. Ice falling on me was as big as smarties and despite initial attempts of bearing the pain on legs and fingers I was forced to find shelter in a granary next to the road. I was freezing, my hands were blue as I was at 3400 m asl and as wet as I could be. When it stopped I got warm with some sweet herb tea and reached happily Lalibela excited and curious like a baby and the cool dirt road which granted me 64 kms of pure riding fun.

    Eleven churches were carved into the live red sandy rock found at 2500 m asl by order of King Lalibela in 24 years with the sweat of 7,000 men. One of these churches was carved in one night by an angel for the King’s wife, apparently. Churches beauty and impressiveness can not be expressed by picture as they are statues as big as building and as detailed as statues. King Lalibela, who was of semitic dynasty was in exile in Jerusalem and wanted to replicate the holy land in Ethiopia. For this reason there is a Golgota, a Cranio a river Jordan and Olives garden and so forth in the second imperial capital of the country. A sense of mysticism rein in the village and hundreds of priest family with their traditional dresses walks around and pray with an awkward chant. After Halie Selassie failed to chase the Italians he came on a lonely pilgrimage to these holy churches. Five years later he got the brits support.

    Remarkable places were the fertility pool where infertile women are dipped three times in the hope of improving their unlucky situation. (No such treatment is foreseen for men) and the secret column, wrapped in various holy layers of clothes. Written in Amaric, Giz, Hebrew and Greek, it contains holy secrets of the world’s future which the emperor in the 16 century decided to maintain secret to the humanity. No one but the patriarch of the Orthodox Church is allowed to read those scriptures. This prohibition triggered in me such a strong curiosity which made me almost unable of controlling myself in the wish to touch that column. My intentions were already clear in the mind of the white dressed priest, holding its prayer book who stressed not to touch.

    The time seems stop in Lalibela and Christian faith is crystallized like a mysterious sphere surrounding the whole life within its reach. Unfortunately the younger inhabitants appeared to be much more attracted by the western material wealth, always bothering and trying to spill money from you in all possible way. However I did have fun with some kids during some street matches of ping pong in which I was beaten twice by a 13 years old, who eventually asked be the bill.

    On my way back to the main road I was caught in a tranhumance of humans a livestock of all kinds probably going to the market day. When it ended I was left with 15 kms of dirty road and wanted to enjoy. After speeding for a couple of kms, the chain could not bear the stones on the road and got broken. After initial discouragement, the smile of the little pastors around and their genuinity encouraged me to fix it. This also made me to forget the kids who threw stones at me tha day before (things for which I was prepared by all other bikers met on the road). 150 km later I was out of fuel as no petrol station actually had petrol. Good enough I had 2 liters in my emergency jerrican and got other two liters from a boy in the following village. These took me up to the next big town, thanks God there was fuel there.

    It is so sweet and pleasant the feeling of being hopeful. Even if all odds are against, the only act of having faith and trusting that things are going to work out is mightily fulfilling. That is part of the power behind faith I guess. I also thought that this can deeply affects human relationship. Indeed with all the prejudice I had towards Ethiopian whom undeniably have statistically more thief than other people, I hardly could enjoy their company and thus be kind in return or able to disclose some of my gift to them. Indeed the situation turned upside down in Sudan, where people are humble, and hospitable to unimaginable extent.

    Gondar was nice and very Italian in style, visiting the Fasil Castle nourished even more my historical fantasies of the old Italian Empire. But my opinion of Ethiopians went further down as I met two apparently friendly guys, with whom I had nice sharing until I realized they only wanted to change my money at the worst possible rate into Sudanese pounds inventing the most false stories ever heard. On the contrary all the Ethiopian and particularly Eritreans met outside their country are very kind and honest.

    Descending from the plateau to the low lands of Sudan was an emotional experience, breath taking scenery was accompanied by riding pleasure on a fun road taking me 1,500m lower than I was.

    My memories of Arab hospitality and culture made me willing to enter the Sudan as soon as possible. After clearing the exit procedures, the first answer of the soldier patrolling the Sudanese border was: De Mushkila, Ita motara ma emshi fi Sudan. Questo e’ un problema, la tua moto non puo’ entrare in Sudan. Nel mentre mi indicava di tornare in Etiopia. I miei occhi non devono aver avuto una bella espressione, ma ho subito ricorso a quantita’ industriali di speranza. Ho fatto chiamare gli ufficiali di grado piu’ elevato dicendo che avevo gia’ comunicato tramite l’ambasciata di Juba della mia venuta e che il carnet de passage lo possono avere only the European bikes. Officers were kind and understanding, encouraged by my little arab similar to the one of a 2 years old child.

    There started the gorgeous stay in Sudan. Policemen offered me tea and dinner and a place to sleep. I eventually felt too much of an obligation for them and thus found a shack for truck driver next to the noisiest mosque ever.

    At 7 I was already riding after a night full of bloody mosquitoes and rather debatable sleeping conditions, but a good breakfast with fritter and milk tea in the middle of the road. I thought I would have needed two days to cover the 600 km to Khartoum. When I realized how full of nothing Sudan roads are I got enthusiast to reach the capital in one day. Policemen where making jokes about me being a prisoner from the south but always in a respectful and joyful manner, I enjoyed tea with them on the way and was pleased by their curiosity towards the conditions of Juba and the south in general. Predictably the chain broke again at 180 km from Khartoum and baker Ali was so sweet in bringing me four loafs of bread while I was fixing it in the small shade behind his oven. Again the concept of hope crossed my mind. It must also be the driver of such hospitality, often driven by the golden rule of the tit for tat. It is incredible how willing you are to return way more than you have received when somebody else is generous in the first place. How different a lot of human relations would be if only among the daily routine full of hatred justified by thousand of historic precedents we could remember this basic rule. Let me not get into the application that I did of it to the Israel-Arab conflict as I am reading a fantastic book on the subject covering the last healf century of its history. It was nice digging in my game theory subject from university.

    Arriving in Khartoum I realized how huge is this capital, ultra developed in horizontal way with some gorgeous examples of skyscrapers, the most impressive for me being Bushar Fadel or the sail built by Gheddafi in occasion of an African Union conference. It was a relief to finally find the centre of Usratuna where Lucia was waiting for me thanks to Maria and the sisters coordination from Juba. I felt immediately home thanks to her lovely, fun and sincere hospitality. A fantastic community of Italians and Sudanese welcomed me as well as my family could do. Marco and Mattia with their wonderful dinner, so special for the drinks availability of the country and the precious advices on how to move in the capital and the country. Ashraf whom I met already in Juba disclosed me all its care through various dinners and meetings, one more interesting than the other as I could fill all my curiosity with his endless knowledge on the country’s history. Again Carlos whose smile took me through the Mahdi house wondering about the assassination of General Gordon (the man of the ever victorious army) just two days before the arrival of his majesty’s , as well as the Sufi’s ceremony in the graveyard of Oumdurman just tonight, the holiest day of the week for Muslim. How welcomed I felt in their ceremony being invited in their dancing circle and not being seen too much as a foreigner. One of them prayed for me to come back to the Sudan. I actually hope so too. Never I felt so at home and so safe. There is much to say about Sudan and the friends I met here. But the hour is late and the road gets closer.

    Check this video out (thanks Marijke) Our Sudan…

    I will try to go safe through Egypt, minimizing y stay there and avoiding Cairo. I will write soon.

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    Sleep well my folks

    Gabri