Thu 18 Nov

So we went down to the Adam's shop and I stupidly waited an hour or so for him to be not too busy to accompany around the market. I am sure my travel-writing friends would not be so passive. When we did go for a wander we failed to find the things I had been waiting to be shown. I had hoped to buy some wonderful, almost spherical, water pots. We did not find basket-work either, nor "African" fabric to make me a shirt. At this stage I started to feel that my hopes for Dilling were not going to be realised and I would have done better to have sat on the beach at Port Sudan. My only consolation was to take pictures; try to capture some of the colour and character of the market.

Within minutes, we got a call from security. "Where were we?" "Stay there." They were coming. We had a pleasant chat along the lines of "Oh it's you. We'd heard a khawaja was taking pictures in the market so we thought we'd better check it out." I agreed with them the pictures were just for my memory and offered to show my photo permit but was told not to bother, it was not necessary.