One time I took a fifty hour train ride through Sudan, from Khartoum to the Egyptian border at Lake Aswan.
Except for basic repairs to keep the engine running, the train itself had not been upgraded or maintained since the British left in 1956. The windows were mostly broken, the seats were rarely bolted down, the linoleum floor was cracked and faded. The whole carriage was filthy.
Amidst crowds of poor travellers, children, hawkers, luggage and a goat, I found my seat in the third class.
Somehow, people squeezed in six or seven to each row of four seats. Others hunched up on the luggage racks and still more squatted on the floor in the aisles and on the roof of the train.
I found myself crushed amongst a group of women who had brought enough food for a week, which they shared with me while trying to make polite conversation. Despite my 'Berlitz' phrasebook, we didn't manage much because nobody could read.
The train finally started, and before long we were in the desert. The train quickly filled with a cloud of dust so thick I couldn't see to the other end of the carriage.
It was like travelling between two opposite worlds.
The scenery was amazing, the train line went right along the edge of the flood-plain; the pale sands of the Sahara on the right side, looking like it would go on forever, the fertile green fields and date palms along the River Nile on the left.
We arrived at a small village just after dawn the following day. I followed the crowds to the water troughs, and watched everyone lining up to drink from massive earthenware jars, about the size of oil barrels, which were filled with water from the Nile- the only available water in the area. Tied with a string to each jar was an old tin can, which everyone used as a cup.
I was shocked by the lack of hygiene;
everyone drinking from the same cup and then dipping it back into the water supply. The water was an opaque grey, full of silt. I had no choice but to drink this water- as there was no bottled water for sale. Though the water was thick, it was surprisingly cool and refreshing. I filled my bottle and headed back to the train.
We travelled for about two hours when the train stopped in the middle of unbearably hot desert. Crowds got off the train and walked towards the Nile. Apparently the train had broken down and we were waiting for a spare engine to be sent from Khartoum.
I followed the crowd to the river's edge where the men waded in the upstream waters and the women further downstream. The women were wet in their dresses and burkas in order not to expose even an inch of skin.
I didn't feel like joining the burka-clad women so I headed further downstream, until I came to a secluded little cove with a great tree sheltering the shore.
After checking that no one was around…
I unwrapped the restrictive sweaty burka from my head, undressed to my underwear and slid into the water. The black mud from the river bed felt so good on my skin, I covered myself in it and then floated a while, under the shade of the tree.
I relaxed in the water for maybe half an hour before I saw a log floating nearby, suspiciously moving towards me, slightly against the current… I can't say for sure if it was a crocodile or not, but in that moment I thought it was, and I got out of the water quick-smart!
I headed back to the train feeling like a goddess from some long forgotten past;
brushing through date palms, the cool Nile waters dripping from me, my long skirt sweeping the dust around my bare feet. I got onto the train and found my seat thankfully vacant.
The train quickly became crowded, and as we started to move again, I saw a woman from the deep south of Sudan walking up the aisle. She looked very old but she seemed to shine with an inner power.
Though her face was wrinkled, her skin still looked soft. Her eyes were bright and clear and she walked with an authoritative confidence.
She caught my eye in that crowded mess because it is quite rare to see the very dark-skinned people from southern Sudan, as there is a civil war raging between the Animist tribes of the south and the Arab Muslim government of the north.
The old woman approached another old woman who was sitting near me.
They both stood facing each other, smiling. Then they made very strong eye contact and held their palms facing up, as if each one was holding a small ball in each hand.
Breathing deeply, as if breathing energy into their hands, they moved their hands closer to each other, until I could almost see them sharing a large ball of light in their palms.
Then they both shut their eyes and very quickly put their hands on their chests, with a sharp intake of breath, as if to absorb the energy they had created together.
The two women stood like that for a few moments, each one looked charged with a kind of angelic light, both with powerful smiles on their faces. Then they shook hands and kissed each others cheeks, in the usual way of greeting.
They sat quietly, surrounded by an air of smiling calm. They seemed undisturbed by the hustle and noise clamouring around them, as if they were in another place, another time.
I was overwhelmed by the incredible exchange of energy I had witnessed, and the beautiful light that seemed to shine from the two old women. The train kept on its slow pace through the night. I managed to sleep fitfully, and in the morning when I woke the two women were gone.
With thanks to www.africaguide.com for the map of Sudan.