A very Sudanese welcome

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And I thought it was convoluted getting off the ferry from Italy into Egypt. It's an entirely different ball game In Wadi Halfa. First you need to get your passport stamped, although no-one tells you this until you're woken at 6am by an angry man claiming there isn't much time (we land just 5 hours later). Then you fill out a travel permit, although no one tells you this either, or even hands them out, you just need to scrap and fight for the few remaining ones on baord. This done, you queue. And then queue some more. And then fill out two copies of a second form, which is remarkably similar to the previous form. And then you queue again. And then some more. And then, by luck, magic or bribery, you find yourself at the front of the queue, next to a Sudanese official, who wants to know your job, passport number, and nationality. All the while you haven't got a clue what is happening, why or how. Finally, after 2 hours of queueing, a tree's worth of forms, lots of confusion, and one offical stamp, you are finally allowed off the boat. Time for customs.

And the reward for making it through all this is a ride in the back of an open-sided pickup, the 3km to the nearby town of Hadi Walfa. Some may see this as further hassle, but for me, it feels like I've arrived. It's cramped. It's dusty. It's bumpy. It's hot. But it's heaven. It's Africa. It's fantastic. And I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

Sadly, the 3km ride is over too soon, and once in Wadi Halfa, we enjoy the fun of Registration, as if the obstacle course on the ferry wasn't enough. This time we queue for a form. Hand the form to Officer A. Get told to take it to Officer B. Officer B seems quite oblivious to the fact that the weekly ferry has arrived, and can't understand why people are queueing outside his office, and therefore chooses to ignore them until Officer A shouts at him. He's also clearly been sat at his desk, looking at his computer, for 10 KryptonFactor-esque problem solved, he inputs our first names into a database to see the results. Most people come up blank, and are waved through, but when it gets to me, a 'Christopher Luckwood' pops up on the system. Lots of pleading, some convincing, and when the Officer just gets board of the hassle and having to do work, I'm allowed to the next room to see The Captain. The Captain, signs and stamps the form, and sends us to the Cashier. The Cashier charges us our entry fee or $40, with a little extra too, and again stamps the forms and sends us back to Officer A. Officer A, happy with all the stamps, places a small sticker in our passports, scribbles on it, and then orders us back to the Captain. One final signature, three more Sudanese pounds, a smile, and a handshake later, and we're actually allowed into Sudan.

It's taken almost $200. Countless forms. And lots of patience. But finally, finally, I'm here.

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