On the bus home I notice one passenger has the "Khartoum: 2005 Capital of Arabic Culture" t-shirt. I have always felt these must exist somewhere but had never seen one. Of course I ask where he got it and whether I can buy one but the responses are not clear. I realise, I can't exactly buy his, unless someone just happens to have a spare shirt for him to wear home. Then it occurs to me: that morning I had put on a brand new shirt, which though labeled XL was clearly too small for me. I'd worn it anyway. It looks smart, shiny and new; it still has its creases, I offer to swap. Of course this causes much amusement throughout the bus. He assumes I'm joking. No come on, I'm serious. A few other passengers encourage him… then it turns into one of those "I dare if you dare" moments and we quickly take our shirts off and swap. Everyone who's been following the negotiation is entertained. Those who haven't, including my fellow khawaja companions, are shocked and embarrassed. Still, it is done now – both of us happy with our new acquisitions.