Sudan

1986 -- I think that I turned 6 here … I don't quite remember. What I do remember, though, is that I beat all the men at playing dominoes. Quite funny actually. I am tempted to think that they cheated so that I could win. Probably was what happened. I'm not that much of a whiz at it, and they played it all their lives.

Other things that happened … one of our gerry cans were stolen. Phil was filling them full of water, Damien and I meant to keep an eye on them, but when we turned around, one was gone. It happened in a flash—incredibly fast. Phil was annoyed at my brother and myself, understandably, but there wasn't much that he could do. The guard, who saw the whole thing, was not about to hand over one of his countrymen to us, so we never recovered it.

Another scary incident was when we were up the coast some, and we were not meant to be there. We anchored near a military base. Ashore, Phil was taping the three of us playing in the sand, and the next thing that we knew, a pile of armed men came up and started jabbering away in their language. I can recall being scared only because my parents were. I was that attuned to them, as was Damien.

Then … whala! All they wanted was to take us back to their base -- an hour's walk away—to introduce us around. I swear I saw relief all over my parent's faces at that realisation. I think that they thought we were dead meat. They were at a religious time, so they only ate at sunup and at sundown, and boy was the feast at sundown something to remember! They more than made up their abstinence during the day.

That was a happy ending to the story.

We also, with a pile of other yachties, made our way up the coast of the Red Sea. It was treacherous—no way could you navigate those waters at night. During the day, Damien and I would sit in the bow and point out to Phil all the coral patches that we were nearing, and which way to turn to get away from them. There were a number of close calls there. The patches were right next to the yacht, visible! That was really hairy, and Phil was so stressed he yelled at us a couple of times. He only yells under stress—a good thing, for which my mother more than makes up for.

We stopped at another anchorage. There, a number of turtles were laying eggs, and we all (other yachties too) went to get some. We had our hands beneath them, catching the soft-shelled eggs, viscous fluid covering us. We didn't take all—that would not be good for the survival of the species—and we had yummy omelettes for some time afterwards. There were about three turtles laying eggs as I recall. One of the other yachties wanted to go back for more later on, but Phil stopped them.

Ohh … how could I forget the marriage proposal. A guy wanted to buy me off my parents for 50 camels. I know now what I am worth! They said no, we can't fit 50 camels aboard Pampero, so sorry, you can't have our daughter. Nice reaction, I think. They'd have insulted the man otherwise, but they said no in a polite way. I was only 6 at the time! Imagine, had I been sold, I would now be living in Sudan, married, with probably three or so children at my skirts by now, and a devout Islamic woman. No, not quite what I envisage for myself.

No women were seen there—in fact, the only woman that we saw, was Phil, and he nearly got killed for it. Some people have strange customs. Actually, the only woman that I can remember seeing on the streets was an old lady buying food at the markets. She wasn't treated very well, as I recall.

Damien and I played with the children there; I remember them having little trucks and cars made from coke tins and the like, and was very envious of them. At the next stop, my parents bought plastic ones, but the weren't the same. I liked the skilfully crafted metal ones, ones that had been made lovingly by one person. I knew the difference between a mass-market plastic one and a crafted single item at that stage. I really, really wanted one of those. I still want one to this day, if only as a memory of those times.