“We did it! We made it in time to watch the sunrise over the pyramids!” One of the girls in the group was ecstatic. So was I, as we watched the golden sunshine through the flat tops of the now popular “lost and forgotten” Pyramids of Meroë in Sudan.
But I had a better reason to celebrate. Ever so silently, a small voice in my head congratulated me. “You did it too,” it whispered. “You mustered all your courage and you showered with two lizards on the bathroom wall this morning”. An achievement that would change the way I remember my visit to one of the most intriguing African nations of my dreams.
The Pyramids Of My Dreams.
It was a travel show on BBC back in the 1990s. An extreme traveller had set out on a quest to visit the little-known pyramids of Meroë, built by the rulers of the ancient Kushite kingdoms. The show host had traversed Africa’s biggest country on local buses and taxis. He got on a narrow-gauge goods train through the desert and walked for miles on end till he reached the royal burial site of the most glorious Nubian rulers between 2500 to 1500 BC.
The Pyramids of Meroë, built in Nubian style, are 4,600 years old, distinctly different and way more in number than the better-known, monolithic ones in Egypt. After many failed expeditions led by several explorers through time, the Sudanese pyramids were finally discovered in the 18th century. In 1834 however, an explorer and treasure hunter named Guiseppe Ferlini demolished the conical tops of the Pyramids in search of hidden treasures in the burial chambers. He is awfully responsible for the destruction of over 40 pyramids across Sudan.
A Weekend in Sudan.
I first learned about these pyramids on that TV show. The adventurer and host of the show had piqued my interest in a way that is hard to define. His journey and determination had left an indelible mark on my young and curious mind. I knew there was a big world out there that I was going to explore one day. And when I did, Sudan would definitely be on that list.
Late one night in February of 2016, my friend Ryan called me. He told me that a local adventure travel group in Dubai was organizing a trip to Sudan that weekend. We were to trek through the desert, set up camp beside the pyramid ruins and sleep under a star-studded African sky. I was thrilled and nervous. This was my chance to make that childhood dream come true. But Sudan is not your everyday travel destination. It is off the charts for most travellers. The country is riddled with a history of conflicts and civil wars and UN sanctions. It continues to reel with massive socio-economic issues to date.
After much deliberation, I signed up. Over the following two days, I got down to packing and preparing for my first trip to Mama Africa!
Off I Went.
Sudan’s capital city – Khartoum – is impressive. Not in an old-world-charm-with-gorgeous-architecture kind of way. More like, one of the most historic kingdoms and cities in the world, founded under Ottoman Egypt, now going through post-colonisation chaos, poverty and political instability.
It is known as a city of two rivers. Not because two rivers run through it. But due to the confluence of the White Nile (think brown and murky waters) and Blue Nile (equally brown and murky) streaming down from Uganda and Ethiopia respectively.
Day 1: The Bus Ride
On day one, after a hearty Sudanese meal, we started out on our rickety bus towards Meroë. The four-hour ride was interrupted with tea breaks and pee breaks in remote dusty villages. Children crowded around us every time we hopped off the bus, hoping to receive a small treat of candies or stationery. It’s the only way of interacting with tourists that they know. At first, I obliged. It took me a couple of trips back to Africa to learn that handing out gifts to children only inculcates a habit of begging among them. A tourist’s altruism is detrimental to the societies that start depending on hand-outs and charity from foreigners. It negatively impacts their willingness to go to school, obtain education and work towards making an honest living.
We arrived at our campsite in Meroë after sundown. While the group waited for our guide to organise dinner, a 10 km trek to the cluster of pyramids through the cool desert sands seemed like a productive use of our time. We grabbed our torches and started our night walk.
After about 45 minutes of dragging our feet across the desert dunes, flattened out peaks of the Pyramids appeared ever so slowly through the pitch dark of the night. My heart raced. I was both anxious and thrilled. My teenage dream was about to come true. And although we couldn’t see the structures clearly, I felt them all around.
Flashes from the travel show flooded back as the pyramids unfolded in front of us. Everyone in the group went quiet in awe. The silence was calming. I perched on top of a dune at a distance and watched torch lights reveal a brick here and a door there. In that moment, as I soaked in the magnificence of these ancient relics and thought about how I had made it to this wonderland, I realized that the adventurer of my childhood years had finally become me.
After we had had our fill of the Pyramids, we headed back to the camp. The meal was sumptuous for “desert” standards, which can only be considered a blessing. Before we retired for the night, a few of us decided to wake up in time to walk back to the Pyramids for sunrise. Tired and excited in equal measures, we crouched into our tents, hoping the mosquitoes would have some mercy on us. They didn’t.
Day 2: Morning In Meroë
At 4 am, when my alarm went off, I jumped out of my sleeping bag. I dashed into the run-down toilet-like structure for a well-deserved shower. The nozzle was rusty but it seemed to be in decent working condition. I looked around to make sure the bare bricks wouldn’t come crumbling down on me. On closer inspection, I saw movement on the wall. I gasped and stood still.
The big black desert lizard right above the showerhead knew it had company. We locked our gaze, right before I saw another one. Sentiments of “fight-or-flight” and “do-or-die” rushed to my head. For a second, I debated if the shower was really worth losing my vocal cords if any or both the lizards decided to leap on me. But I stayed put. I decided to put up a fight. Between a shower and succumbing to my fear of lizards, I chose war.
Lo and behold! I came out victorious. Unscathed. Almost like a gladiator, having stared danger in its eyes and beaten it fair and square, with sheer might and courage. Well…at least that’s my version of how it happened and I get to pen it down because this is my blog, and lizards can’t write.
We headed out of our campsite. On our way to the Pyramids, we were met by pale white camels that struck a pose and greeted us as we meandered through the sleepy village of Meroë. Although the royal cemeteries in daylight fascinated me, the sight of damage and vandalism broke my heart. In recent years, archeologists have worked tirelessly to preserve and restore the structures through centuries of destruction by explorers. And I was glad to be living in a time when these marvels are not lost or forgotten anymore.
Route Update: There’s a Chinese-built locomotive from Khartoum Bahri train station en route to Atbara, with a stop at pyramid-rich Meroë—a 330-kilometer trip.
The rest of the day passed by in a breeze as we made our way back to Khartoum and into its colourful Omdurman Central Market. Ryan and I picked up raw sugarcane bamboo from a street-side vendor, lost our way through the back alleys of the city and practiced our broken Arabic with locals to get help with directions.
A Postcard Of Memories
As we headed back to the airport for our flight to Dubai, the group rejoiced over the experience. In a silent corner, I sat sketching out the flat-top Pyramids of Meroe on the back of a postcard and penned a short description of the trip. I handed it to our tour guide to post it at the Post Office the following day.
Sadly, I never did receive the postcard. In hindsight, I didn’t need to.
The elation of getting on the adventure of my childhood wonderland was unmatched. No memorabilia would have done it justice. And for years to follow, no pyramid that I was to see anywhere in the world would feel as sacredly mysterious to my wandering spirit as the forgotten Pyramids of the Nubian Kings.
Travel Date: February 2019
*These are first-hand experiences, findings , views or opinions , which are purely my own. They are not paid for or promoted content.
