Thu 11 Dec
The coach was soon whizzing along the tarmac road although we had to stop for police roadblocks every half hour. Each time they wanted me to present my passport. Usually I was asked to accompany them to their hut where they tediously wrote out all the details in great ledgers. I’m delighted to report that none of them ever found any "difficulties" with my paperwork and the other passengers were patient and sympathetic.

The "countryside" in fact was very uninteresting: flat, featureless, occasionally towns along the road. The people seemed to be Arabic or black African living side by side. There were ladies heating teapots on charcoal burners seemingly on every shady street corner.

We were given "in flight" snacks and drinks and after a few hours we stopped at a roadside cafeteria for breakfast. I queued up with a fellow passenger first to pay for tokens and then to exchange them at the food counter. The other passenger, a well-spoken businessman, helped me to order the wrong thing so rather than "fuul" (brown beans in a sauce) I ended up with fried liver, which actually was a very pleasant discovery. Later, once we reached Khartoum, the same helpful passenger helped me to get a taxi to the wrong Ministry of Tourism.