Heron on the Nile
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  Barah The Soldier  

I keep walking, pretending that I haven't noticed him, but I can tell he has changed his course and will now cross my path a little ahead of me. This can go in so many different ways. I wonder what he is going to say. We try "Good morning" and "Happy Eid". No hints there. In this country, at this time, with my curiosity and enthusiasm for taking photographs and notes it wouldn't surprise me to hear that I am in a restricted area and I must accompany him now, no delay, no discussion - now. It goes through my mind - what can they do? Kick me out of El Obied? or even Sudan? That would be too bad. I came here voluntarily, sponsored by the Government of Sudan. My time is my gift to improving her people - but I guess not everyone sees a value in that.

He asks me my name - and then tells me he is: Hamid Sayeed Salaam. This is a good sign. Where are you from? how long have you been here? What are you doing here in El Obied? Announcing that I am an "Ustaz" at "Jama Kordofan" usually goes down quite well. Are you a Christian? "I was born one," I venture but he's not satisfied. He's smartly dressed in his uniform with several stripes on his arm. He has a world weary, but friendly face with a hint of white hair around the edge of his beret. He tells me he's a Moslem. I'm delighted. He tells me that he's a peaceful man and that we are brothers. He asks if I would like to go to his house, and smiles. I have time (and too often I say "No" to such selfless hospitality); I tell him it would be an honour.

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