Friday is the start of the weekend here, so The Tedious Englishman and I were planning on joining some of his students (all ladies, in their 30s, miaow) to a little town to the south of Khartoum called Jebel Aulia. We were ready. We were EXCITED. And then the twatting water refused to come on until 2pm. Obviously this is a problem anywhere, but in this, the sweatiest of all places, it is a PROBLEM. A big one. So, we sweated, moaned, watched a depressing film for a while, which I'm sure is interesting to everyone, and then finally, we were able to get washed and go adventure-wards.
The plan was to get a bus, but a random friendly man stopped his car and took us to Kalakla (i.e. part of the way there), and then stopped his car, got out, and found us exactly the right bus to get on. What an absolute hero. After an hour or so driving through scrubby wasteland (hello multitudes of plastic bags), we finally got to the souk at Jebel Aulia. Here it is:
It wasn't until the nurse was putting the tourniquet on my arm, that I started to feel a little bit...wrong. She stabbed me, took my blood, and then it became quit clear that I felt very wrong actually, and fainted. When I woke up, she was saying things to me but apparently this was still all a bit much for my brain, and I woke up five minutes later (so I'm told) on the floor, with a Sudanese woman pounding on my chest. I don't think I have ever been more confused or felt more like 'the lame white girl' in my life. I was quickly gathered up, handed a coke by a passing man, and taken to The Booming Soldier's office, where he let me slump on his desk for a while. All good fun. Embarrassingly, two of my fellow volunteers arrived for their blood test soon after and were absolutely fine.
Thankfully, things have calmed down a bit since as I've mostly been asleep or teaching, and not bleeding into a vial. Gross. That's about it for this week. CULTURE. DRAMA. And so on. Exciting things to looks forward to this coming week include a red, white and blue joint birthday bash at the Omdurman Ladz residence for some of our American friends, and potentially some jaunts around the remainder of Khartoum's museums.
Until next week, keep it sandy, keep it sweaty,