Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
THE MOTHER OF THE WORLD
Upper Egypt, July 2014
T he ferry horn blared out across the water. From the gaggle of passengers on deck, I
looked down and saw Moez disappearing off the gangplank, down into the tussling crowd
on the dock. Soon, his jellabiya and turban had disappeared among a thousand others. I
watched as his noble face and eagle nose turned with a smile, and knew he was happy to
have completed his mission, to have shown the best of his land to a foreigner. As the ferry
drew away, across the glittering water, this proud man - who it still seemed I had never
truly got to know, even after two months' companionship - evaporated out of my life as
quietly and mysteriously as he had entered it.
The ferry sailed north, across the waters of Lake Nubia. Then, without any declaration,
we crossed the invisible line between Sudan and Egypt. The crystal waters underneath us
had become Lake Nasser, and stretched north for more than five hundred kilometres. At
their head sat the ancient city of Aswan, once a frontier post for Ancient Egypt, guardian
to the southern kingdoms and inland Africa; now, a modern metropolis guardian only to
the High Dam. It was to be almost a day before we reached it - and every one of those
hours was to be an ordeal.
The deck was baking beneath the sun, but the place was so packed that I had no hope
of getting below, even if I had wanted to brave the passengers, packed in like cattle, who
sweltered underneath. Shoved into a corner, next to a spit bucket, I shared the space with
hundreds of jellabiya -wearing Sudanese who spread themselves across the deck like a car-
pet of flesh, moving only to pray or piss. Occasionally, people tried to pick their way to
the communal cookhouse inside the belly of the boat - but I decided to avoid it at all costs;
the stench was unbearable and the meals, served on metal trays, put me in mind of some
prison cafeteria: endless beans and sickly chai.
For long hours, my entire being was focused on moving myself and my packs into the
ever-shifting shade. Occasionally, I found myself by the balustrades and gazed out across
the glistening waters of aquamarine. On both sides the desert rolled past, seemingly un-
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