Hello,
Given the difficulties of uploading photos and videos in Sudan, I haven’t been able to do it on this blog. However, if you are interested, my other blog is much more complete and interesting so please click on this link to get the full picture (http://www.cycletothecup.co.uk/blog/).
The text for the blog is written below if you don’t mind the lack of video and pictures. I hope you find it interesting, any comments, tips or sponsorship don’t hesitate….my site has a link to Just Giving.
Best wishes from Khartoum,
Dickon
The Heroes of the Belorusian Desert
Excuse me as I indulge in a small boast. Team Trevor was momentarily split because the rest of the team wanted to skip forward in a bus to the next town so they could watch the England Egypt friendly. My desire to cycle the whole continent meant that I opted out and Duncan offered to join me in the 170 miles (270km) from Karima to Atbara, two or three days cycling through more desert. Or not! Given that cycling with less people is a lot faster, I half heartedly suggested we cycle the whole thing in one go to see if we could arrive in time for the game as well (as a bit of a surprise for the others and so we could show off). I had forgotten Duncans propensity for stupid ideas: cycling to the worlds tallest building in Taiwan for a £1 bet and, on the way, running the Istanbul marathon in hiking boots. My suggestion approved, we were up early and heading off, immediately confronted with headwinds, hills, desert heat and meagre supplies of bread and lollipops. At 2pm we had only managed about 60 miles thanks to the conditions, and hit 100 miles at 6.30pm. Dusk. Dinner time. Bed time. Anything but cycle time. But no! We intrepidly continued listening to music and rueing the day our egos helped make decisions for us. There were few cars, but the initial lack of moon meant that it was pitch black, our eyes just capable of making out the line in the middle of the road. The postive spin of this is that it allowed us to see more stars than I have ever seen (Duncan’s phone uses GPS and an internal compass to tell you what stars you’re looking at…so clever). The moon eventually appeared a shade of blood red, as if to reflect my inner turmoil of depleted energy levels, my subsequent ill mood, and the disappearance of my sense of humour. The 5 hours were grim, and we resorted to rationing our fizzy drinks in a bid to tackle our sugar lows. We arrived as the game finished, not bad considering the wind, in a complete state and incapable of normal speech. But like with all challenges, I felt a sense of satisfaction at testing what I was capable of. 170 miles, 14 hours of actual pedalling, 8am ti 1.30am. Pretty gruelling. Why did we do it? Well Duncan has theorised that all actions can be trivialised back to the desire to procreate. In other words, impressing girls. I don’t know whether two guys wearing tight lycra cycling long distances with probable resultant fertility issues is sexy to women, but if it’s not, it damn well should be so I write this boast in earnest.
In case you didn’t know, my name is Dickon. I have a love-hate relationship with my name and I have an affinity towards the song ‘A Boy Named Sue’ by Johnny Cash. With a name like mine, the scope for purile humour is neverending. So much so, most people don’t believe that it’s my name, and those that do often prefer imaginative alternatives. At times tiresome, the one positive feature of my name is that I am an original, one in a million, a limited edition. Anyway, I foolishly look forward to travelling to foreign countries for my name to mean something good like ‘great one’, ‘lion slayer’ or ‘fights like a bear’. So it is to my dismay, and not for the first time, that I am informed that my name means chicken in Arabic. Or Dick means chicken. And so the comedy continues. Finger Lickin Dickon. My name, and therefore yours truly, will forever be a source of amusement across the world.
To prove this, we had dinner with a local family one night which was a highly enjoyable but, as usual, a linguistically challenging experience (sign language can only get you so far). A sure fire way to liven everyone up is for someone (Duncan)to mention that my name means chicken, cue Dickon makes a noise like a cockerel and everyone falls about laughing, my role in global society further cemented (Duncan has now adopted using this conversation starter everywhere he goes). Not to be outdone, the rest of the group proceeded to do impressions of other animals: John – pig, Duncan – whale, Ollie – goat and Lindsey – a bit of everything (amusing). We enjoyed it so much we have adapted our call signs as buzzers to be used in our camp fire quiz games, perplexing to any onlooker.
Just in case anyone was wondering, I am becoming proficient in Arabic. This trip isn’t simply a jolly up the Nile, it is a journey of higher education and intellectual discovery (as no doubt you can tell from my blog updates so far). I can now count to five, I know the words for ‘bread’ and ‘beans’ (unsurprisingly learnt quite early on), ‘hello, how are you’, ‘friend’, ‘expensive’, ‘cheese’, ‘god willing’ (put together they make quite an amusing but so far fruitless request), ‘chicken’ (my impression now includes a beak and rooster hat) and my latest discovery ‘beautiful’. I refer you to my comment earlier about impressing girls, well this one is brilliant. Women across the world are suckers for a compliment.
I must mention quickly Mohammed and his family that we stayed with in Atbarra (as sourced by the team who took the bus)(his family consists of him and his sisters and neices as he divorced all three of his wives in one go having got bored of them…..interesting I think). Having met us on the bus, they put us up for the night and fed us repeatedly with bread, beans, tomatoes, chicken, falafel, egg and even sausages (a vast improvement to our daily carb diet). Social etiquette it would seem is to force your guests to eat (every time you stop eating even for a second they say ‘eat, eat’), so each time we eat till we pass out having not worked out the polite way to decline their encouragments.
Their generosity is neverending and they refuse all efforts on our part to return the favour. We eventually managed to get a photo of all of them and us developed which they seemed genuinely pleased to receive it which was reassuring. They then gave us a goody bag with sugar, biscuits, sardines, tea and crisps in as a leaving present. Crazy! Does anyone put up total strangers up in London? Not many. On that note, I am currently in Khartoum staying with a bunch of Eritrean girls (refugees of sorts it would seem) that we found through the growing phenomenon of couchsurfing.com. A brilliant platform allowing you to stay or host people over the world for absolutely nothing. A great way to meet new people and stay in places for free. I intend to use it throughout the trip and particularly when I get to South Africa. As I said to my parents before I left, most people are kind and us Brits should learn to be more trusting.
Khartoum is a totally different place to the Sudan I have seen so far. As if to mark this change, our final day cycling into Sudan involved 100 miles, 49 degree heat, 5 flat tyres, me lacerating my finger almost to the bone, and some cycling through the city in the dark in pursuit of our contact in a car…a bit risky at times. When it rains, it poors…..or the desert equivalent of that expression. We arrived at a ‘medical centre’ where we were to stay, covered in a weeks dirt, beard and sweat, and were immediately ushered upstairs to meet the doctor. Next thing we know we were sat on chairs in front of 40 morbidly obese people in fancy dress whilst a compere talked about us in arabic to the group.
Lord knows what was said, but we received ‘ooohs’ and ‘aaahs’ followed by a round of applause before we were ushered out again none the wiser. A very surreal experience….’fat camp’ in Sudan….a bit unexpected given some of the poverty seen in rural parts. I like to think that the compere said something like ‘four weeks ago this lot looked just like you’ (although the scales downstairs tell a different story…with Lindsey actually gaining weight).
In the four days I’ve been here I have been ripped off by a few cabbies (standard), found milkshakes, haggled with everyone, had an incredible Lebanese meal with an Italian we met, played 5-aside football at the British Embassy, found some beer (the first in 3 or 4 weeks…its so good), and last night we were invited round to dinner with the British Senior Political Officer. A more civilised experience than I can remember even in the last few years in London (despite our dishevelled appearence) with yummy food and wine. It was also a great way to discuss Sudan and its politics, power and wealth, the election and the referendum the following year, let alone a million and one other topics we seemed to cover over the evening. We were even allowed to steal their old copies of The Week, The Economist and National Geographic which is a huge result as out thirst for news and reading material has to date remained unquenched. I hope that we may be able to source more contacts from the foreign office as we travel south, as it is by far the most reliable and interesting source of information as we travel.
Our dinner conversation also highlighted that global politics such as the power struggles over Africa between China, muslim countries and the west is so much more interesting than our national news such as ‘the lack of grit during snow storms’, ‘crooked cops’ and the tears and airbrushing of our politicians. We have it so easy in the UK, and yet we are a nation of whingers. We have the best (albeit oldest) underground system, infrastructure, security, practically everything and yet nothing seems sufficient. The British stiff upper lip and resilient desire just to get on with it doesn’t seem so fitting these days. I can only assume that we whinge about these things because of the lack of more serious worries, and therefore should be grateful. In Sudan things such as rubbish, electricity, water, roads, traffic lights, laws, dust (Karthoum) is by no means a guarantee….and that is before you delve into politics, Southern Sudan and Darfur.
Anyway, tonight we are playing football at the embassy again and are hoping that at the least we can use the showers afterwards and at the most, the beers afterwards may extend into a soiree of sorts. Then tomorrow we return to our bikes and spend the next week heading for the border of Ethiopia. Having now read up a fair amount of Ethiopia, I am really looking forward to it (and my research into Southern Sudan has informed me its not a good idea). Assured that my helmet will need to be worn throughout to protect me from thrown stones (one of the ladies at dinner last night got beaten round the head with a shoe), I am now looking forward to Ethiopia, the hills (I’m becoming a sadistic cyclist), the scenery, the availability of alcohol, greenery, jazz bars we have been told about in Addis, all sorts. It will also be cheaper. Sudan, mostly Khartoum, has been expensive with many things priced the same as UK prices with much of the city relying on imports.
We have cycled almost 1,500 miles so far. I have raised 15% of my total which is brilliant, but keep the donations coming. We are still looking for tickets to a game, further sponsorship, press coverage, anything we can get that might help us reach our totals.
I have now improved my previous two blogs with a video and some photos if you’re interested. Do look at the other guys blogs as well as they’re pretty interesting….oh and Oli Brooms which is really good. The photos and videos should all tie in with some of mine, and are probably a lot better.
Finally, Lindsey, in a bid to raise more money, has decided to shave her head. Admittedly when she looks like she does in this photo I can hardly blame her…although I think she is nuts…and I anticipate tears directly afterwards as I’m not sure she realises what she’ll look like….please go to her page and sponsor her.
I believe we’ll have a story to tell about it soon enough. I can’t wait.
Feel free to comment about my blogs, or pass them onto your friends.