Mon 8 Nov

From Souq Arabi bus station there are a number of bus routes to Shuhada, my district of Omdurman. I was trying to choose a new route, to find out how they vary, when a teenage boy in school uniform said "Hey are you a stranger in these parts? Where are you from? Where do you want to go?" The questions are not uncommon but this time they were delivered in perfect English with a slight American accent. Before I could answer my phone rang so I stepped away. When I finished the lad was still waiting for me "You want Shuhada? I'm going that way, I'll show you".

We got the first bus and sat together. He told me his father is Sudanese and mother Puerto Rican. He had been born and brought up in Washington DC and had since lived in Rome and Seoul. They had moved "back" to Sudan about 18 months ago and he had been sent to a Christian fee-paying school in Khartoum; it costs 1.5m dinars per annum (approx US$6000). I asked why he took the bus? Apparently he was driven for the first seven months but his father decided it was important for him to learn more about Sudanese culture.

We passed the Hilton Hotel. He looked at me amused and said, "You know people in Sudan think this is so special, it is the top hotel in the country!" I empathised; it always makes me laugh too. For starters it looks like a bomb shelter; you step inside and you step out of Sudan. I remembered last December wandering in and being brutally reminded that Christmas was about to happen. I suggested he had seen more luxurious hotels in America and he told me a schoolboy story of eating in Michael Jordan's restaurant, where the burgers are US$200, and actually meeting him.

As we reached Mahdi's tomb he told me rather matter-of-factly that the great Mahdi, national hero was in fact his great great grandfather. Indeed his Sudanese name is Mahdi, though his mother prefers to call him Alex.