Rosie

I was just thinking about that last post and I got to thinking about a brilliant burlesque-cabaret-vampire-S&M-lesbian-comedian that I worked with (at the Golden Lotus Bump and Grind in Newcastle) who inspired me. her name is Rosie Lugosi: www.rosielugosi.com

Rosie lived and taught in Sudan for two years... maybe all that repressing, suppressing and censorship helped her to really embrace the extremes of those fantastic freedoms that I have happily and complacently taken for granted till now. Or maybe she's just cool.

Teflon Lifestyle

Last week 1000 or so people died in South Sudan from Meningitis and another unidentified illness. Today a Sudan Airlines flight was hijacked in Chad. If these things were not reported in BBC, I would have no idea they were happening.

Anna's son Francis is visiting, He's been here a week and a half and leaves this Sunday. He's ace. We went with a group back up to the Pyramids, this time we camped overnight. Awesome trip out of the city despite waking up to sandblasting winds... now I know what frosted glass goes through. It's great to be a tour guide again. There is nothing like seeing your home through somebody else's eyes.

Themes of politeness, censorship (or restraint) and value still keep popping up in conversation and life. A strange incident last week got me thinking again. Anna and I had a party (to say goodbye to the coordinator who has quit - after being fired, to welcome three new volunteers and two new British council workers, to welcome Francis and just for the fun of it). a couple of the guests took offence to a Sudanese men's hat that was upside down on the ceiling (placed there by the previous occupants to hide ugly wires). I took great offence to people who don't live in my house deciding to take it down, not only without asking, but against my vocal objection to re-arrange my living room ... which also happens to be my bedroom. It was not my hat, it was not my decision to put it there but it was my space goddamit.

I think the reason why this stupid and not overly noteworthy action got to me in a tizz so much was because I feel I need to adapt so much to live here. I'm not just a westerner living in Sudan, I'm bisexual, pagan, non-virgin, wiccan, female, extroverted, dancing, polytheistic, tattooed, pierced, left wing, outspoken, freckled, unmarried, westerner living in Afro-Arab Muslim male controlled Sudan. I have to alter what I wear, what I say, how I think, how I behave, everything. Of course I do and this is why I came. But rewarding as it is, it is hard work. So I like to think of my home as my own personal Embassy (The Embassy of the Democratic Socialist Republic of Anchel). In my home I like to think I'm on my land, where I can just let my knees and shoulders and thoughts and beliefs and self expression all hang out. The one place that I'm not judged by Sudanese standards.

I was going to put the hat back up to reassert my right to maintain my small slice of the world (yes, I am a control freak, but you already knew that). However this morning I noted that Anna was using the hat as a jewelry box in her room. Ah, lateral thinking for the uses of local fashion in ones personal space wins. Goddess bless Anchel.

Ever since I got my passport back I feel I have my freedom, safety and security back. It makes me miles more comfortable. It's just a weight off my shoulders that are currently decently covered.

GOT MY PASSPORT BACK!

After 2.5 months of uncertainty I finally have back my passport. In it is a residency permit. I slept comfortably last night, with a wee smile in my face.

I also have a phone, after 2 months, Missy's phone has reached me, so I'll sort out a sim card today.

ah.

A Happy New Years

Happy New Years to you.

First the wedding. Anna and I attended part of a double Sudanese wedding (it was the son and daughter of the sister of the grandmother of one of my students... family is pretty tight here) . A wedding here is normally 3 days long with different ceremonies. The ceremony we attended was the bridal dance (the bride was marrying the son of the of the sister of my students grandmother). In a tent of about 600 females the groom (the only male in the room) is treated to a sensual dance by his soon-to-be wife. No photography was allowed but on http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RFPOP_1ANuk you can get an idea of the type of thing. Interesting to watch, although the groom didn't seem as interested as he should be, he was chatting to members of the audience. apparently the official wedding had been in a registry office a month before. The other bride (pictured) did not do the dance... her groom was in Kenya, apparently the groom is not totally necessary in a Sudanese wedding.

(After looking for the Sudanese wedding dance clip I appeased my ego by doing a search on you tube for 'foxy rouge', my ego enjoyed the 3 clips that came up.)

The day after the wedding dance I set off with Tim, Matt and Liam to a town called Atbara about 4 hours north. There we were greeted by Christopher, another volunteer who had been living there for about a month and had integrated very well. His Arabic is coming along beautifully. He had lined up a full itinerary of visits to the homes of a variety of lovely, welcoming and generous people he had met. we arrived the just before the first day of Eid, a 10 day holiday where sheep are slaughtered.

I'm a bit odd. well you know that already, but here I'm even more odd. I'm female and getting on a bit, but I'm not married and for some reason am not at home. So I'm not quite a woman, but not quite a man. Even things like greeting can get a bit messed up with my presence. To greet a friend of your own gender generally you touch your right hand to their left shoulder before shaking hands. In most cases I was an honorary man but particularly with the older generation there was often an iffy moment of hand-or-shoulder decision making. I discovered it was better just to get in there first and give their shoulder a tap before they thought about it to much.

Women and men eat separately. I was fortunate enough to be able to spend time in both worlds. I got to help the women prepare the freshly slaughtered meat and also sit with the men watching the news of Sadam's execution (not a huge reaction from the Sudanese people I know, they don't seem to feel it effects them directly, there is a general over-all resentment to USA and a few have commented that Sadam was the only one who could hold Iraq together, and the war has killed more that Sadam). We also watched the Haijj on Saudi TV this is the pilgrimage to Mecca.

I ate so much. Guests are treated like royalty and given only the best part of the sheep... the tendons at the backs of the calves, the liver and from the calamari shape and texture what must have been part of the intestine. I ate it all, and smiled.

The lads bought the local dress for the occasion. I wore my usual black skirt and top but was given a tobe (Sudanese sari, about half the length and twice as difficult to wear as the Indian sari) . I was also given jewelry, perfume ("silence for men"... I wonder if there was a hidden message in that) and masses of attention from the local woman. All a bit over whelming to be honest, but in a good sense.

New Years we saw in a small room packed with a family of about 20 and us 5 foreigners playing chamber games involving singing nursery rhymes and making speeches. It was miles away in every sense from the debauched party that saw in 2006 in Montreal only a year ago. Actually this time last year I was wandering through gorges in upstate new York... Fuck. When the clock struck 12 nobody noticed (in Sudan time is not a priory) but when someone did notice it was enthusiastic handshakes all round and singing 'happy birthday'. The happy birthday could be because the first of January is Sudanese Independence day. It was really wonderful and a rare opportunity for both our hosts and us, I think it was obvious how much we valued it.

Returned to Khartoum for a couple of days then when with Anna down to Kosti, a wee town about 4 hours South. When I say four hours I mean that is how long it would take if there were no stops. times normally are 5-7 hours. I think most of the stops are to allow the engine to cool down or make repairs. Not much to do in Kosti except to watch the White Nile cruise by and smoke Shisha which is what Anna and I did. We stayed in a Lokanda which is kind of like a half-way house for old men. Being inconvenient western women we got own own room, but we shared the shower (a room with a bucket in it that could be filled from a tap outside) and the toilet. my camera battery charger has died so I can't take photos till I sort that out, be happy for that, the loo really was pretty gross.

I got mildly ill twice. First as a result from taking 'soud' a type of tobacco that is rolled into a ball and place under the lip. it was a huge hit of nicotine that left me dizzy and nauseous for about 15 minutes then spacey for the following hour. It is the favoured drug of old men here, I'm not sold on it. The other illness was also self induced: intense belly pain that slowly moved around throughout one night. I spent a lot of time crouching outside expecting to vomit and more time rocking by the toilet expecting the runs. It was neither. It was trapped wind. I have never had that before. Unable to pop out to the local boots and pick up a pack of windeze I relived the pain by doing a shoulder stand for 10-15 mins. sore back, eased gut.
I hope you had a good one.