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I tell the driver that we actually want a place 20km this side of Karima, but on the other side of the river. If there's a passenger ferry somewhere along the way then please drop us off. He says "yes, yes. A quarter of an hour" but it is more like another hour, before he drops us on the outskirts of some small village. We are now at least three hours behind schedule.Another passenger is alighting too. She lives at Al Kuru across the Nile and will show us the way. She also has an enormous suitcase, but makes no effort to hire a donkey cart. I assume the ferry is close and offer to carry it. The village is quiet; it is the hottest time of the day. A few people stir and stare. A boy walks alongside holding out his hand for money but fails to offer to carry the heavy, clumsy bag. We have almost left the village before she cracks and agrees to take a donkey caro. It makes for a pleasant movement given the sand and the cruel heat of afternoon sun. Sandy lanes lined by palm trees and modest farming – it reminds me of Zanzibar. Everywhere is green and fresh – we are near the irrigating water of the Nile. At the river bank we decline invitations for tea and persuade the boatman and the lady with the heavy suitcase that we really do want to go NOW.
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| El Kurru Tanwetamani tomb |
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On the other side of the Nile our companion persuades us we ought to hire a Toyota "box" to take us up to the principal archaeological site. As she lives next door, she comes for the ride and to "show us the way". We stop to pick up the caretaker but apparently he's incapacitated. Instead we get his six year old son, armed with the key and a battery powered fluorescent light camping torch. No visit would be complete with a further stop at the local police station. The village peacekeeper comes with us – are we honoured guests or suspicious foreigners? The policeman is actually quite amicable. I'm annoyed the Toyota box has cost us so much and dispense with his services. The policeman's face was foreboding. The 5000 year old tombs are interesting and well worth the effort. We take pictures and compare notes with the guidebook. Unfortunately for me I gash my head in the underground passage on an unseen low ceiling. I'm not sure if I'm going to faint. There's a lot of blood. The sense of ancient mystery fades rapidly as survival instincts kick-in. We need to move on anyway – so no change of plan. Ah, but there's the rub. You see the public transport only really runs in the morning. It's all over by early afternoon prayers. The only way to continue with our itinerary is by commissioning a Toyota box. Now, where will we find one of those around here? The Policeman is very helpful and sympathetic. But magic-ing transport out of thin air is not his forte. "Perhaps after prayers?" He suggests. It's 4:15pm. We really ought to be getting up the road. As it was me that had possibly "upset" the Toyota box driver we had, David walks back down to the river to try and negotiate our second exorbitant ride. To cut a long story short, we don't have the luxury of travelling with the common people between villages, instead we have to pay through the nose for the privilege of exclusive transport, we agree to pay US$30 for a 30 minute ride up the road to Jebel Barkal (it's more than our combined coach tickets from Khartoum).
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| El Kurru Tanwetamani tomb |
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| El Kurru Tanwetamani tomb |
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| El Kurru Tanwetamani tomb |
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