The Last Day

Today I took my last ride on a riksha, its a three wheeled car like vehicle. I took my last ride to the bus to university. Every morning when I'm in the capital I walk to the end of the lane, usher for a riskha. Its so great I don't even have to talk, the rules of the transportation are so well established that everything is in tacit agreement. I just get in, the driver takes me to the end of the road, and I hand him the money. Then I cross the road, wait for the bus to Souk Al Arabi. When we pass the railroad tracks, I click my fingers and usually after a couple of seconds I am dropped off near the main gates of the medical school of University of Khartoum. Sometimes it takes a lot to make my way to the door of the bus, I usually step on the hem of my skirt and end up mooning all of Sudan.
Today they threw me a going away partyat the Institute, I didn't cry but it was touching. I stuffed my self with cookies, and cake, and drank tons of tea with milk. It was all rushed because I needed to take care of final details, I really can't believe that its almost here, the day of departure.
My favorite uncle left today, to go to Nuhud, our home town in western Kordofan. I got a taste of what it will be like Monday at 11pm. He told me not to cry, and then we both got teary eyed. I hadn't seen him in three years because he'd been living in Saudi Arabia for the past five years.
I want to come back, I know I want to leave for the States, but I want to come back to Sudan soon, mostly for academic/research purposes, and God willing I'll make it back again.
I've seen so many different ways of life. Here I was invited to dinner by two professors at the Institute. Both come from very leftist families that are traditionally considered part of the elite, at home they speak Arabic but are fluent in English and other European languages. Their children go to private schools, and they dine out, when dining is still considered a very western thing. In Rahad I ate with the head of a village who spoke in an Arabic dialect I could barely understand, who couldn't write his name, who had very little but at the same time had so much in terms of respect, pride and kindess. Everyone thought it was strange that I, a female, shared a lunch tray with the sheikh, but he made allowances for me, being "khawajiya" or western.
All those experiences made my stay here so amazing, hard, but worthwhile. I hope that next year I'll find Sudan more prosperous and peaceful than it has been in the past, more than that I hope to find myself here again, doing work I love with people who understand, and have a passion.