Letter from Africa

As I looked out my window, I wondered where the hell the plane was landing. With each meter the plane descended I wondered if we were going to crash or land safely. But this was Qatar Airways, claimed to be one of the best airlines in the world so I pushed aside my fears. It all seemed weird though; there were buildings close to us in every direction and I’ve never seen an airport in which the runway was 10 meters away from the outside traffic. I mean…anyone could shoot us; a sharp shooter could easily bring a plane down. But I guess this is Sudan and they’re busy doing other things…like planning to overthrow the government I guess (no offense folks…). 

Yesterday at exactly 3:46:27 pm I stepped out of the Airbus and I was greeted by the scorching Sub-Saharan sun and a blow of steaming air, a quick reminder that I didn’t come here for leisure. I quickly put on my Ray-Bans and wondered if studying three years here was worth it. It seemed a million thoughts were racing through my head, all of them different ways of getting out of here as soon as possible. I stood there on the platform for what seemed like minutes, looking at the city from the plane’s doorway. I didn’t know whether to cry or laugh out of madness. 

Then I felt something sliding down the side of my face; a bead of sweat; and that literally snapped me out of my daydream. No…I just got out of the plane’s 17°C atmosphere…there’s no way I could be sweating already. I hurried down the steps to cool down in the passenger terminal bus, hoping the A/C inside was as cool as the one on the plane. Much to my dismay and less to my surprise there was no A/C in the bus at all. I was like wtf this is an international airport; something countries take pride in to welcome foreign passengers…and no friggin’ A/C? I looked out the window to see how the first class passengers were doing. Where I lived, first class passengers are taken one by one in flagship 7 Series or Deville Touring Sedans or S-Classes but I didn’t see any of them, heck I didn’t even see a sedan. All I saw were a bunch of people being hoarded into a Toyota Coaster, and from the closed windows I could tell that they at least had an A/C in there. They paid double what I paid for that shit? Seriously…there shouldn’t be any first class or even business class on trips to Sudan.  

Dad was watching me as soon as we entered Khartoum airspace, studying my reactions and laughing at me each time I had a look of disbelief on my face. He hasn’t been to
Africa in 12 years and clearly missed the place. He took a month’s vacation from work and I was sure he was enjoying every minute of it. 

I saw an empty space beside one of the open windows in the bus and I quickly made my move. As I stood there someone else took my previous standing place. No wonder no one was occupying the space beside the window; there was hot air blazing through the windows. The feeling was as if I put my face on top of a kettle boiling on the stove with its lid off. There was no where else to move to so I just prayed the bus would make it to the arrival terminal before I melt. 

Welcom  T  S dan 

That’s what the sign said at the entrance to the terminal…obviously missing a couple of letters & in need of some fixing. 

What I experienced next was nothing short of a nightmare. As soon as we got down from the bus, I saw a line extending outside the terminal, and quickly wondered how many hours it would take for us to make it to the baggage area. Luckily, they had a separate line for foreigners so we got our passports stamped quickly. I looked around and saw some European and American folks, along with a few Asian visitors and was relieved that foreigners do exist here. 

As my father checked in our passports, I observed the terminal. It wasn’t anything close to an airport terminal, more like a huge overcrowded warehouse with a zinc roof. There was some décor on the ceiling but there were some missing tiles. Obviously the A/C wasn’t working…which made me wonder if the ceiling air vents were just there for show. It seemed as if the sun was the main source of light inside. There were people everywhere; the ladies were either sitting or standing aside while men stood by the conveyor belts waiting to claim the bags. Of the two conveyor belts, only one was working and when I finally made my way through the crowd to the conveyor belt, I realized that the bags haven’t come yet…! 

Once we got our bags and headed of to the baggage check, we came upon another line. I dumped the bags at the X-Ray machine and as I was picking up my bags from the other side I realized that the girl in front of me hadn’t budged. I looked over her shoulder only to find some guys in uniform ravaging through people’s suitcases! Ok…why do they have an X-Ray machine then? The computers at the passport counter predated the 90’s, the A/C vents, non-working lights, the idle conveyor belt; is everything here just for show? 

Finally out of the arrival terminal and I was glad the sun had cooled down. We met Moh’d and he asked us to wait while he got a taxi. I was glad we’d finally enter a car with an A/C. Nope…a yellow, rusted, rattling Peugeot which I’ m sure was older than my dad pulled up infront of us…our ride to the hotel. To my surprise, my dad’s cell rang. I didn’t know he activated his roaming service. It was someone from work asking if he had made it. My dad was laughing…enjoying himself. I don’t know what he loves about Africa… 

They even had a nerve to put a tollbooth at the airport exit. Why? Where does the money go?

The ride to the hotel was sad…seriously sad. I don’t remember seeing much greenery. I saw buses packed full with people hanging from the door. I saw poor people either sleeping on the sidewalks or begging openly on the main streets. I saw cars dating as early as the 50’s…driving next to 2003 model German luxury cars. That’s when I thanked Allah for everything He has bestowed upon me. 

My time at the net café is almost up. Hopefully I’ll find some time to write more later on. Now I’ll go check out what else the Meridien has to offer.