La
Licorne
SUDAN, MY WAY
Going for the job
Looking forward to see the Sudan
for real I was hanging around at Fiumicino Airport. One hour before Mieke had whisked off for her
cheep flight to Cairo, where we would link up for Khartoum. Hours were still to
pass before check-in time. I worked on my notebook for a while, but with nobody
around to repulse me, soon felt for a dive in the bar. On my way through the
hall I routinely checked the
departures board. Having located my flight I couldn't believe my eyes.
Doubtless, punctuality
was not a strong side
of the flying business; so I
was very used to planes not flying in time, and leaving hours or even days late instead. All that I could take, but in this case
departure time had been advanced by
three hours!
It had been by sheer chance that I was at the airport so
many hours ahead of schedule. The
two colleagues that
were to join me on this trip -at best- would be on their way to the airport, if
not still in their
hotel. However, waiting
for them was no option, since it would cause all of us to arrive late, not to mention that my rendez-vous
with Mieke would fail.
So I had better put the
boys and the bar behind me,
and head for the check-in counter instead. For such crisis situations I know how to clothe myself in a posture of
subservience and urgency. The
few minutes before departure were
enough to get me on board. The Sudan Airlines plane was hardly occupied and the
crew eagerly serviced my hunt for food. As foreseen the appetizer I had to dig
up from my briefcase. And guess
who boarded the plane with a big smile in Cairo? As for my colleagues it took
them two days to reach Khartoum.
Finding ourselves parachuted in
the middle of the desert I wondered how to proceed. The department we were to
work with was so kind to assign an able counterpart, which completed the team
to the following foursome: Fathi an economist, John as farm machinery expert assisted by Martin as
trainee, and myself as rural development all rounder. According to our terms of
reference we had to come up with no less than a review of the countries’
agricultural policy. Given the time granted that was quite a job, and I pondered how to make the best of it. Of course, we could get away with a
neat overall picture, but that
wouldn't serve anybody. We rather concentrate on some concrete
issues. So, I sent
Fathi to collect data, John to see into agricultural mechanisation, Martin to
vanish for his own sake, and myself to go after the nagging problems. Finding the agricultural
situation very much
connected with the countries' overall
economy, and knowing
that it wasn't done to
touch upon political
matters, I decided we had to advise candidly -though respectfully-
on all that would come up.
Travelling long but
not far
The first days of our stay we
presented ourselves to the authorities and shopped for information. After
having obtained an overall picture we felt like going out to the field. I would
have preferred to
traverse the various
land classes and climatic zones and
study the different farming systems, but given the available time we could just
afford to make a brief break.
Mieke takes part in expeditions
of the kind. With her easy manners she is good company, cheers up the club and smoothens contacts in the field.
Besides, in Muslim communities she is my interface with the female world. So I
made pains to order a vehicle for six persons, including the driver.
At six o'clock in the morning of departure we found a diesel humming in
front of the hotel. John, Fathi and Martin were already snugly seated in the
back. The three of them
were avoiding my eyes while I went over the arrangement in the front
of the car: the driver’s seat, a space with a lot of engine and gear, and a
passenger seat, just one, no more. And there were Mieke and I, ready for the
little and only trip to make, standing in front of a car which would
comfortably seat one of us, but by no means both. This was one of those setbacks one didn't
deserve, but had to reckon with. On top of that came that the windscreen I had
to sit behind was badly shattered.
driver side
passenger's seat
That state of affairs made me
find myself in a nagging position. Although I had the fullest right to reject
the car, the company in the back apparently had branded it safe. That lot would
regard my repulse as an excuse for the missing seat. Moreover getting another
car would take hours, if possible at all. So, I ended up drawing a roll of
adhesive tape from my briefcase, the sticky type, yellowish but
transparent. Without exchanging a word Mieke and I started re-enforcing
the glass. There was absolute silence when our fingers simultaneously stroke
across the window. She from the outside, I from the inside. We did a good job
and the very Land Cruiser with licence number 7981 could be on the road for
years to come with the repair. That being accomplished I gave a signal for to car to draw up. From
the outside mirror I saw a waving figure disappear when we took a corner.
Our first stop was at the Al Gazirah Irrigation Scheme, 'the best example of development in Africa'
and 'the largest farm in the world under one management', as the folder claimed. At the General Manager's office
Martin marched in first as usual.
We were received in a most cordial manner and once again I wondered what
impression the lot of us would make on the polished Sudanese civil servicemen.
Notably the contrast between my two valued colleagues must have been striking
to them: John with his drowsy eyes and rich English hair wave and Martin with
his bold-shaven scarred skinhead looking like a halbstarke. When we bid our farewell,
Martin concluded with 'see you' at the doorstep. Imagine the poor impression we would have made
if he hadn't been around!
At the bureau of the mechanised
farming authorities in Al Qadarif we were welcomed by the attendant. Ostensibly
communication had failed to announce our arrival and some nervous activity was
needed to produce the officer in charge. Unfortunately all responsibilities of
the unit had been transferred to Khartoum: Had we not been informed
likewise? I looked at Fathi, who was suddenly absorbed by his papers.
Moreover our host had only scant information from his past experience. That gave us the time to
visit some farms on our way
back to the Capital.
Altogether the gathered information helped us through the remaining weeks in
Khartoum.
Getting
out
On the day of our departure from the country I sent Mieke down to settle the
hotel bill. 900 US Dollar was to stretch for the fortnight that had passed
since we paid last. Not so with the Cashier.
'They want 1600', she came back. 'Indeed', I said, 'that was
true yesterday, but now their Pound has been devalued, the new rate must be observed as from
today.' Obviously, time had come for me to switch off the
notebook for the type of dispute ahead could take long, and should be concluded before the departure of our afternoon
plane. So, down we went to the Cashier. Of course, my presence didn’t add anything to Mieke's earlier attempt, for she is
a tough negotiator. The guy
just insisted he had no instructions on any new rate of exchange. I
couldn't help thinking he was trying to pull
us 'a fast one' for his own benefit in anticipation that our time was running out sooner
than his. In my imagination I saw us rushing to a bank down-town to end-up in a
queue in front of the teller's counter
with the outcome of we would miss our flight.
Now it happened that just around the
corner of the hotel lobby
there was a shopping area of the type
one finds in all Hiltons. In
the back of my mind I remembered having noticed a bank-outlet. So, we walked
over to that place. The attending clerk
was agreeable enough, but couldn't
help being not knowledgeable about the change of rate. With lessening hope we tried on for a
while until a messenger entered the
scene to hand the fellow a
slip of paper. That gave him the chance to forget about us and to study the arrived
message.
After a while we
saw a proud air mounting to
his face. Making a long story short, we left the outlet with a big pack of notes
and presented it to the erstwhile Cashier. The fellow couldn't but accept
the due amount in local currency according to the bill he had presented us.
That gave him his fair share and saved us from an extreme surcharge.