Wadi Halfa

“Be careful who’s advice you take but be patient with those who dispense it.” Every traveller has a window in any destination or stop-off point within which to experience and consequentially formulate an impression. Factors largely unrelated to the particular spot, however, become intrinsically linked to the experience and are thus similarily linked to the impression. State of mind, health, workload, stress and travelling companions play as vital a role as the beauty of a place and its’ people, or lack thereof in respect of both. Consequentially any opinion offered by a fellow traveller must be accepted with this in mind. Whilst allowing for the possibility that one man’s paradise is another man’s Bure, I have found that advice and opinion still play a crucial role when venturing blindly toward a name printed on a map.

Wadi Halfa seemed universally disliked. The window through which all we had encountered had viewed ‘Halfa’ seemed stained and cracked. We arrived expecting little, yet desiring less. Halfa was therefore in a position from which it would be difficult to dissapoint. Perhaps due to this underdog tag, or perhaps because we too proved susceptible to the influential factors that eminate from the individual, Halfa surprized. The town seemed lost in a weekly cycle of contrasting periods of chaos and calm. The town lounged next to Lake Nasser, carefree and ponderous on days when the ferry sailed in Northern waters. It was as if Halfa itself layed down its head and dozed in the Nubian sun. At these times the town is truly Sudanese and remains characteristically dignified. For two days we slipped into the dozing town and relaxed as if we too were exhausted from last week’s ferry. As Wednesday approached Halfa seemed to slowly rise, wiping sleep from too tired eyes. All too knowing of the frantic energy about to pulsate through the streets Halfa did not rush to meet fire with fire. There would be time for everything and everything would take time. The principal architects of the structure in the storm laid out once more their best laid plans and maintained a swagger of assurance that contrasted anxiety of the multitude. Although the means was unknown, the end was guaranteed by the swaggering architects. As if blindfolded, the would be sailors were led through a forrest of forms and a field of faces, trusting but fearful, confident yet cautious.