Saturday September 11th 1am

Saturday September 11th 1am


Mona and I have wanted to go back to Afra Mall, the mall that Hamada and his friend took us to on our first night in Khartoum, just to look around some more and purchase mobile internet. Hamada had stopped by earlier today and I asked him for the name of the mall and approximately how much it costs to take a rickshaw between our apartment and the mall. He told us that him and his friend could come by a bit later to pick us up and take us there, but we told him that it wasn’t necessary for them to take us right away and that we will let them know if we need to go, but that we were just interested in finding out some more about it.

Later in the evening, we decided that it would be good to take a rickshaw to the mall by ourselves, as one of our first attempts to become a bit more independent in terms of going places and doing things. It was fairly simple to get to the mall, and we were able to purchase internet and a few other items at the mall quite easily. A Sudanese woman gave us a huge smile and struck up a conversation while we were walking in, asking where we were coming from and how we found Khartoum. She seemed pleased to see us and, in general, happily interested. After doing all that we needed to do at the mall, we decided to simply take a rickshaw back home. We actually do not know our address, however, as we had previously asked Hamada and his friend to write it down for us, but they did not know it either and said that we can find out in some days. Hamada’s friend used a note card to write down some information about where we live, though, in Arabic on one side and English on the other. Apparently we live on a street that translates to “the end of the bridge street,” and they assured us that we could simply show this note card to anyone and find our way back home from anywhere quite easily. So, we told the rickshaw driver to take us to this street and showed him the note card. However, he took us to the correct street and stopped right where a bridge ended, which, since we live on “the end of the bridge street” seemed quite logical. However, this was not where we lived. He asked which way to turn, and I guessed right. However, after driving right for some distance, we did not find our apartment either. He stopped and asked some guards who were sitting outside of a building where he should take us, according to the note card. The guards directed him and he then proceeded to drive us back to essentially the same place we had been before turning right and searching for the apartment. Because he had been driving around for quite some time and appeared to be quite confused, we decided to simply tell him that we would get off and find our way. He was a bit hesitant about this, but we assured him that we were OK and where we wanted to be. We got off and walked, and walked, and walked, in the directions that felt most familiar. After searching unsuccessfully, we asked some guards if they could tell us where our street was, and they pointed out some directions, which we followed, and found ourselves back at the same end of the bridge. Finally, we decided to give up and take a rickshaw back to the mall, with the hopes that at the mall we could find a taxi that might have better luck finding our apartment. We did this, and the taxi driver read the note card and drove us exactly back to the end of the bridge. Because this was not where we lived, he began asking some people on the side of the road for further directions. I called Hamada and asked him to speak to the driver, which he did, but the driver still ended up driving around and taking us back to the same place. He then pulled over again to ask some different people, two men who were walking down the road. These men spoke English so it was easy for us to communicate with them. I called Hamada again, asked him to speak with these men, and he did. The men seemed to understand Hamada’s directions quite well, and, being quite eager to help, actually decided to say goodbye to each other and part ways so that one of them could get in the taxi with us and make sure that we made it home. And, we did. I guess the point of this story is, we need to become more familiar with Khartoum, learn our address and learn where we live, and not depend on the note card that takes us to the end of the bridge on “the end of the bridge street.” The other point of the story is, Khartoum is very safe, we were not, at any point severely distressed or stressed about the situation, everyone is very eager to help, even though we were completely unable say anything to them that would enable them to help us successfully, and, eventually we will always find our way home.