Misery comes in pairs

Feb. 22, 2012 (day 280) Sudan

The economic rules of the ferry business seemed to resemble those of Polish railways: the supply is equal to the demand. To be explicit, there are as many tickets for sale as many passengers willing to buy them. Together with a German couple we were happy to get on board as one of the first. We claimed a shadowed place under a life boat, to be soon joined by a British girl and Belgian boy. Talking, making coffee and playing cards helped us spend the remaining six hours while the ferry was being loaded.

Please don't be afraid, everything will fit in!

Please don't be afraid, everything will fit in!

Being the only non-air link between these two countries, the weekly ferry carries variety of goods. The deck and the 2nd class dining room were soon crammed by refrigerators, cookers, furniture, electronic appliances and countless huge plastic bags filled by smaller size goods. Among these, a few hundreds of people sat, talked and then slept in different arrangements, which often shifted or otherwise transformed for any reason.

Night walk to toilet will be an adventure

Night walk to toilet will be an adventure

After the night had descended, the strong wind became much cooler, causing a mass exodus from the starboard, where we resided. The moonless sky was clear and for the first time in my life I could see the Southern Cross in it’s full shape. Just before the sunrise we passed along the monumental temple of Abu Simbel. Few moments later I discovered one of my bags to be open.

There must be some limit of traveler’s bad luck, but apparently I had not reached it two weeks before, when armed men robbed me on the road. My laptop was missing.

Of course, If I had slept on that bag, nothing would have happened. But I was already busy with keeping the camera and the passport right at my head. How the thief could know where to look, I had no idea. I did not pull out the laptop while on the deck and no other bag – mine or someone’s else – had been opened and searched.

I went to the helm and told the crew what had happened. With their help I convinced Sudanese border control to let me go off as the first one and ask customs officers to search for the laptop during the baggage control. Fruitlessly. Unlike at the Egypt’s side, the Sudanese had no X-ray machine and all the search had to be performed manually. Thorough check of the thousands of bags and boxes was just impossible and circumventing the procedure seemed pretty easy. Just stealing an orange sticker from someone’s else inspected bag or transplanting it from own double-checked piece of baggage was enough. I hoped, however, that the thief was not smart enough, as he had stolen the computer without the power supply unit.

Sitting there, watching the customs check’s mayhem, with my hope of positive result slowly dying off, I felt the most lonely since the departure 9 months before. I had no company in cycling since Turkey, and then, without the tool for blogging and editing photos, I was unable to share the adventures with blog readers anymore. Although I had been unable to answer all of you personally, the words of support I had been receiving were priceless. My communication was severed and for the first time I found myself feeling small, vulnerable and far away from the people important to me. For the first time, as well, I had the idea to rush into first Internet café, book tickets and get back home as soon as possible.

The awful feeling was comforted by people. The first one was Mazar, a local guide who helped me with insisting on the officers to check the baggage and then informed local electronics traders about the things which might appear in circulation. His hope seemed to be greater than mine.

There were other good people, whom I could talk to and get positive energy from. British, Argentinian, Japanese, and even two middle-aged Polish men finishing their visit in Sudan.

The biggest load of good energy came from a lovely couple of Argentinian cyclists, finishing their 8 months ride from Cape Town. They reassured me about the good spirit of Sudan and the countries south of it, and invited to their homeland of Patagonia, which is on my list of future destinations. This is wonderful how an evening and morning spent together with people of the same passion may help improving the mood.

Recollecting the facts of the previous day, I realized when the thief could have learned where to look. It was at the Egyptian X-ray machine. After I had passed the baggage through it, the officer asked loudly “In which bag is the laptop? I want to check the other one.” It did not raise my suspicions then, as the bag he was interested in contained spare bike parts, which might have looked strange on the screen. However, probably unwillingly, he disclosed the location of my valuables to someone else.

Comments:

mama
mama
12 years ago
Raczej nie mam zwyczaju rzucania podejrzeń, ale może o tym laptopie wspomniał celowo? Zapomniał spytać o zasilacz??? Musi być koniec pecha i trzymam kciuki, żeby już nastąpił!!!
iwo
iwo
12 years ago
No i jesteś! A wczoraj właśnie w Krakowie plotkowaliśmy o tobie z Robbem że właśnie masz odbierać sprzęt elektroniczny ;)

No to szczęścia i dobrej trasy :)
Dusza
Dusza
12 years ago
Fajnie, że wreszcie "wróciłeś" i mimo wszystich przeciwności dalej kontynuujesz podróż. W chwilach zwątpienia pamiętaj, że Twoi bliscy patrzą w to samo niebo - przynajmniej do momentu aż czmychniesz za równik ;)
Wracam do czytania. Dzięki!
Wojtek
Wojtek
12 years ago
Michał przemyska rodzina mocno trzyma kciuki za powodzenie Twojej wyprawy. Rozkoszą duchową są relacje z trasy tak dalej prosimy
kaha
kaha
12 years ago
Panie autorze bloga, brakuje mi tutaj jakiegoś forum albo innego miejsca do swobodnej wymiany myśli.

Szanowni czytelnicy bloga, pozwalam sobie w tym oto właśnie miejscu, w dniu dzisiejszym, zaintonować (wspólnie z Wami): Sto lat dla naszego Podróżnika! Wiatru w placy!:D
Miśka
Miśka
12 years ago
Na reszcie! Codzienne sprawdzanie czy coś nowego się tu pojawiło jest niemal pracowniczym rytuałem wielu zzabiurkowych podróżników. Dzięki Tobie mam tu afrykański poranek. Czekam na więcej. Sto lat!