Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
THE LAND OF GOLD
Nubia, Sudan, June 2014
'W
e Nubians love the river,' said Moez. 'We are not like those Bedouin. Nubians are
the truest people of the Nile. Those Bedouin are Arabs, only ever at home in the desert.'
We made camp at the edge of the river, close to the village of Korti. Since Karima,
we had followed the river on its curve south, past the ruins of the Ancient Nubian city of
Napata and tonight we were to rest here too - for this was to be Will and Ash's last night.
We watched Awad and Ahmad tramp away, muttering darkly, with the camels. 'Leave
them.' Moez grinned. 'Those Bedouin can't bear to be near the river at night. Do you know
what a Bedouin hates worse than the thought of dying of thirst in the desert?' He shook his
head, laughing. 'A mosquito. They can't bear the insects down by the water . . .'
In Korti, a local man had offered us the use of his house for the night - but, tonight,
more than ever, we wanted to be close to the river. As we broke open ration packs and
listened to the water's constant flow, the man reappeared out of the darkness, carrying in
each arm string beds, a package of dates, fresh water and
chai.
'If you dishonour me by not being my guests, you must, at least, have my beds!' he de-
clared, before retreating into the night.
Will, Ash and I looked at each other, still bewildered. The strangest thing was, this
wasn't even the most extreme hospitality we had seen since leaving the desert two days
before. In one dusty little shanty, where we had stopped to buy soda and water the camels,
a shopkeeper - within ten minutes of discovering I was English - had offered to give me
some land, build me a house, and find me a wife. One man actually threatened to divorce
his wife if we refused to stay for lunch, and I swear that a Sudanese host would rather die
than drink before a guest. The fact that virtually every household sees it as their duty to
provide a ceramic urn full of water for passing travellers is testament to the national pride
in revering guests.
'Why do the people here treat foreigners so well?' I asked, turning to Moez.
'Oh,' he said, half dismissive, 'I'm sure it would be the same in your country.'
