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We find the office of the Deputy Vice Chancellor (that's about as senior as you can get around here). He's not in. I decide to wait. Dia goes off back to work. The office manager is a pleasant chap called Salah. He tells me there is an English discussion group that meet at the British Cultural Centre on Sunday and Wednesday evenings. I promise to look in.
When the Deputy Vice Chancellor finally arrives, of course everyone wants to see him at once. In Sudan this is rarely a problem. There are usually enough comfy armchairs and everyone sits in on everyone else's business. In fact it's never quite clear when the tea-party begins and ends or whether some people have any business at all. The DVC has a very pleasant manner and his appearance reminiscent of a ruffled-hair boffin. He orders tea, we chat, and I flick through a catalogue of Educational text books shaking my head in disbelief at the prices, asking the salesman to justify them. He's not used to questions. In fact I think he's really only an order taker. I suggest to DVC the book entitled "The Joy of Snorkelling" should be enlightening - out here in the desert (a 1000 miles from the coast). He writes a note to the Head of English at the Faculty of Education and asks me about accommodation. I mention Dia's offered to fudull me for a month; I guess my face said enough. Oh no no no that will never do, you are our responsibility, you must be our guest. I will arrange for you to stay at the guesthouse. In any case it's next door to where you'll be teaching. We exchange numbers, shake hands and off I go. Dia continues to shower me with hospitality till finally at 9pm, quite exhausted I persuade him to take me to the University guesthouse.
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