Subliminal Messages
12/16/2004 1:15AM (11:15AM Khartoum)
Another shooting star last night, and I wonder what this portends. For the time being, I am staving off the vague augurs of the Sudanese skies and enjoying my vacation here. A lot of it is sensory and tactile and I am reluctant to tell you all about it, else you should think me either a liar or a big softy. Neither of these is preferred of course, but I did say that I would relay most of my adventures, and I am always one to keep my promises.
I spent the morning at the University of Khartoum, my almost-alma-mater. There was a time, not too long ago, that it was the premier institution of higher learning in the Middle East. In the sciences and engineering, especially, it was pre-eminent, but no longer. Post 1989 it has experienced a drain on it's intellectual wealth that is hard to quantify without sounding alarmist, or even paranoid. Now it's a shadow of it was previously, but it is still a good school that turns out some excellent students. It is also a great campus, with it's large, lush trees, shading wide quadrangles, and it is there that I met a former schoolmate who now teaches Physics there. Yet more proof that I am in fact and old man, as if I needed anymore. While we sat and talked under the shade of a large tree, a pavilion nearby came to life with an exhibition on Sufism. While I would usually be quite supportive of that sort of thing, I found myself eyeing it suspiciously, since in the current atmosphere of religious zealotry it will most likely be misused, or used to misrepresent a peaceful and beautiful expression of faith. Our conversation was soon cut short by the beginning of a seminar in the pavilion.
During my approach to the university that morning and now, as students gathered for the seminar, I began to notice something. No one was wearing a t-shirt but me, and in fact, every young man I could see was wearing a button-up shirt. In fact, I only saw one other fellow wearing a non-button-up shirt, and that was a long sleeved one which was more like a sweatshirt. Coupled with my experiences in Addis Ababa the whole thing underlined the gap that lay between me and my kinsmen in many ways. As close as I am to them, I am still ... different, just as I am different from my new countrymen in the US. At any rate, that is neither here nor there, and I try not to make broad societal statements based on the fashions of university students.
The afternoon was interesting as well, with my visit to the office of a friend I had not seen since 1991, when he was at a high school in central London and I was gadding about town with no college prospects in sight. We met up in the market of Khartoum 2 (boy, I need a whole post just on the names of places in Khartoum, and the Sudan in general), where he was sitting in a sleek VW sedan. He hadn't quite remembered me when we spoke on the phone but seemed enthusiastic to hear from an old school chum. He immediately perked up when he saw me, calling me "[Lo fat Mo] the genius!". It made me feel embarrassed, as well as being a member of the Wu-Tang Clan. We drove out to his home/office, and we had a bite to eat while we went over the 13 years, though not in detail. It's a strange thing to meet up with the kids you knew in high school. Since the idea of a reunion is quite American, we don't really have anything similar to it here. Instead you just try to keep in touch with folks and make sure you know what's going on in their lives (something that I have been mostly successful at). Regardless, it's always a shock to see your friends with no hair/too much hair/a wife/kids/2.5 million dollars in non-negotiable bonds/etc.
I didn't want to take up too much of his time, and was running late for another appointment, so I made a strategic retreat after our light meal, and went up to meet more friends of the family nearby. That done, I took a bus into town and walked back the rest of the way home. I didn't walk by choice, but the bus routes to take me home were packed with people in the afternoon rush home. It felt good to walk though, and though it was dusty, I found myself ambling along happily taking in the sights of Khartoum in the dying hours of the working day.
By the time I got home, I found a cousin of mine in the living room. I apologized for being late getting home, and not calling (my borrowed cell ran out of juice before lunchtime). After some chit-chat she mentioned that she was going to my niece's house next, just across the river from where we were. I decided to tag along, and we ventured out to try and get across the Fitaihab Bridge - which is currently the only bridge open directly to Omdurman as the other ones undergo repairs. My niece is actually much older than me, and her mother (my cousin) is about my father's age. She'd just had a baby - her sixth, I believe - and was weak with the recent effort, so I sat with her as she convalesced with her newborn daughter. The other children filed in, and I found myself delighted by her youngest son, Bakri, who is precocious and a bright little fellow. He was captivated by my camera, and I let him hold it, and fiddle with the controls on it. He immediately grasped all the playback capabilities of the camera, and how to zoom in and out. I was smiling in spite of myself, reminding him to let his little sisters look at the screen too, as he asked me what each of the buttons did. I was almost sad to leave, and was a bit sad to think that this little fellow would not necessarily have the opportunity to let his intellect run wild. Hopefully, things will go well for him, and he'll stay curious. Don't let the bastards grind you down!
7:22AM (9:22PM Khartoum)
EARTH TO FAMILY MEMBERS SEEKING MY RETURN, DON'T TELL ME EXCESSIVE STORIES ABOUT THE LACK OF A RULE OF LAW. IT WON'T ENCOURAGE ME,