Tue 30 Nov

On many street corners, bus stations and market places in Sudan you can find a seat al shai ("seater shy"). These are women who support themselves by running a tea stall. They have to get a licence which costs about GBP45/year, and they have to find a pitch that is not already been taken. They serve tea, coffee, karkarday and sometimes cocoa or hot-milk. Tea is often flavoured with fresh mint, and coffee with spices like ginger or cardamom. Whatever you order will come with several dessert spoons of sugar unless you protest in advance. Prices are much the same so the ladies rely on customer satisfaction and loyalty.

One we have frequented in souq Shuhada is an Ethiopian lady called Almaz. She is from the northern town of Adwa (near Axum) and tells us her people, including the father of her eight year old son Marco, are all dead. She claims to have walked across the border. She would like to go to Australia; she has applied several times, but not been accepted. So she continues to serve drinks in the market place.

The other afternoon I returned from town and walked across the crowded market when she waved me down. She was smartly dressed and carrying a handbag and looked like she was on her way somewhere. She insisted I accompany her back to her stall where she unlocked the cupboard and gave me a hand-written note. I thought that one of my many tea-drinking companions had been looking for me and left a message. I had no idea what she was trying to tell me but it seemed to be along the lines of "someone has left this for you, don't stop to read it now, I am off somewhere, take it with you, can't stop, see you later".

The note was written in English. It said it was from Almaz and how much she would like us to able to talk. Then she could say "good morning" and I would reply "good morning" (I thought we had already reached this stage). It went on to say "don't worry I the person he can keep my security something I help you and something you help me", and we should chat about "habitet, religion, UNCHR (sic), Red Cross". It is all potentially exciting but I suspect I will not be taking it any further.

I have an admirer; it is official, and as ever: I am the last to realise.