Sudan
We leave the anchorage at Massawa Monday April 2nd with Cap d'Or. Stopping for the night at Sheikh el Abu Island, we re-anchor several times. Not good holding. We are actually able to sail our course for several hours the next day. However, the following two days are a struggle, beating to weather in 17 to 23 knots and sometimes motorsailing into short steep seas. On Friday the wind dies and we motor, picking our way through the reefs of Shubuk Channel and into the lovely desert anchorage of Marsa Esh Sheikh Ibrahim. On shore we see a couple of tents, perhaps belonging to fishermen and nearby a few camels. Beyond them an occasional truck stirs up dust on the road that runs along the coast.
We arrive at Suakin at noon the next day passing the small port on our way into the well protected anchorage. We anchor just off the island ruins of Old Suakin and soon are greeted by the charming agent Abu Muhammed who relieves us of many U.S. dollars to cover port fees, customs and shore passes. He also exchanges some of our dollars for Sudanese pounds.
We dinghy ashore the next day to explore Old Suakin which was a trade center for centuries and has the dubious distinction of being the last outpost of the slave trade in the world--not ending until the close of World War II. Wandering through the rubble of crumbling buildings built of coral we find much of an old hotel still standing, also part of a mosque and two minarets.
A large brick building which was possibly the customs house is still in pretty good shape.
Across a short causeway lies the village of El Kaff where the people live in small shacks and use donkey carts for hauling water and goods. The odd car or small truck makes its way along the dirt roads in town. We are able to buy fresh produce at the outdoor market here as well as eggs and bread. Many of the women we see are wearing colorful robes of burgundy, gold or blue-green. Their hair is covered but not their faces. The men wear the traditional white robes but sometimes western dress.
Wanting to see Port Sudan we take a local bus for the one hour trip. The desert along the way is studded with juniper bushes and a small spreading pepper-like tree. We pass small shacks and tents. Blown up against these obstacles are piles of the ubiquititous plastic bag. We see herds of goats and camels and on the highway, many large trailer trucks. We find Port Sudan teeming with people. Along with the motorized vehicles there are still donkey carts. Walking around the market area we pass a row of shops with men outside sewing up white robes on treadle sewing machines. Everyone says ¨welcome to Sudan.¨
We arrive at Suakin at noon the next day passing the small port on our way into the well protected anchorage. We anchor just off the island ruins of Old Suakin and soon are greeted by the charming agent Abu Muhammed who relieves us of many U.S. dollars to cover port fees, customs and shore passes. He also exchanges some of our dollars for Sudanese pounds.
We dinghy ashore the next day to explore Old Suakin which was a trade center for centuries and has the dubious distinction of being the last outpost of the slave trade in the world--not ending until the close of World War II. Wandering through the rubble of crumbling buildings built of coral we find much of an old hotel still standing, also part of a mosque and two minarets.
A large brick building which was possibly the customs house is still in pretty good shape.
Across a short causeway lies the village of El Kaff where the people live in small shacks and use donkey carts for hauling water and goods. The odd car or small truck makes its way along the dirt roads in town. We are able to buy fresh produce at the outdoor market here as well as eggs and bread. Many of the women we see are wearing colorful robes of burgundy, gold or blue-green. Their hair is covered but not their faces. The men wear the traditional white robes but sometimes western dress.
Wanting to see Port Sudan we take a local bus for the one hour trip. The desert along the way is studded with juniper bushes and a small spreading pepper-like tree. We pass small shacks and tents. Blown up against these obstacles are piles of the ubiquititous plastic bag. We see herds of goats and camels and on the highway, many large trailer trucks. We find Port Sudan teeming with people. Along with the motorized vehicles there are still donkey carts. Walking around the market area we pass a row of shops with men outside sewing up white robes on treadle sewing machines. Everyone says ¨welcome to Sudan.¨
posted by Anita @ 6:37 AM
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