Memoirs of a Worker

Checkpoint in Khartoum

This is for my friend Sang who went through a lot of tight situations with me.

________________

My Korean buddy, Sang, and I decided to do some sightseeing on one of our days off while we were stationed in Khartoum, Sudan working on the American embassy. Our driver was a man employed by the embassy and he volunteered to show us the wonders.

Our first stop was to view the confluence of the White and Blue Nile. It was impressive. When I worked in Ethiopia, I travelled to the Blue Nile gorge and looked down about a mile to see the mighty river. Just like its name, the Blue Nile is a ribbon of blue way down at the bottom of the gorge which is mostly black rock.

I was never sure how the White Nile got its name since it is more of a bronzed color. The green foliage that encompasses both sides of the river though, in a sea of sand void of vegetation is refreshing. People in Khartoum enjoy the river, as well as the occasional crocodile.

When we left the Nile we drove through the city and then out to the countryside. A couple of miles on the outskirts of Khartoum we came upon a refugee camp. The camp was surrounded with tall, chain link fences topped with razor wire. Guard towers complete with machine gunners and guards packing AK47’s patrolling the perimeter of the fences. Inside the compound were people from the south of Sudan who traveled north to avoid the fighting and thought they would find peace in the capital. The people in Khartoum and the government are Muslim, the people from the south are Christian and ethnic tribal religions. 

So instead of finding peace, the refugees found more violence, and starvation. The people we saw standing against the fences looked like they could have been from Auschwitz! They were pitiful looking creatures with tight skin pulled over mere skeletons. The blank look in their eyes as they neared death was haunting and will forever be etched in my mind. We were so shocked to see human beings treated the way they were, and it made me feel sick. We tried to get out of the car to see if there was any way we could help, but an armed guard slammed the door shut and threatened to shoot us. He demanded we leave.

About a half mile from the camp was a convoy of over 100 semi-trucks loaded with food. The truck beds were open so I could see their cargo. Stamped on huge one ton bags it was easy to read US powdered milk, US wheat, US beans, US lentils, US powered eggs, US rice and US corn. The trucks were loaded very heavy, but the Sudanese government would not release the food to the refugees!

Our driver spoke up, “I had no idea this was going on. Those people are starving to death. As you can tell from the trucks, your country is trying to help, but what can be done?”

It was appalling to witness a government starving some of their own countrymen because they belonged to a different religion. I thought that went out with the Nazis, but it was alive and well in Khartoum during the 1990’s. The Sudanese government put out a press release while I was there stating that the refugees were being dealt with fairly, that they had provided a place for them to stay and that they had food. What they failed to say was that the refugees were held as prisoners, and that the food for the refugees was all being diverted to the military for fighting the insurgence in the south of the country.

On the way back to the city, the driver took a different route and we came face to face with a military check-point. An armed guard strode to the car and asked the driver what we were doing. I heard the driver say “diplomat” but all the guard did was look at us with disgust and spit on the ground.

Sang and I sat in the backseat tensely listening and watching the proceeding with the driver and soldier. Another soldier came from behind and opened my door. I swung around to see a gun pointed at me and I froze. Our driver started yelling in Arabic, and got out of the car. He confronted the guard and the two men started screaming at each other. Our driver’s arms were gesturing the whole time as they were yelling.

I didn’t pay much attention to the quarrel in front of me though; I was more worried about the gun pointed at my head. The soldier ordered me to turn and face forward and I complied. That’s when I felt the heat of the gun barrel rest on my left temple and I heard the hammer cock! I tensed! At that precise instant, the soldier with the driver slammed the butt of his rifle into the drivers’ stomach and he slumped over crying out in pain. When he tried to straighten up, the same soldier smashed his rifle into the face of the driver, and then bludgeoned him again! Blood splattered everywhere and the driver dropped to the pavement screaming.

In Arabic, the soldier with the gun on me, asked for my papers. Normally I would not have had any paperwork with me but this day I decided to take what papers I had. With trembling hands, I handed my papers to him and he proceeded to “read!”

My heart was hammering. I couldn’t move and Sang was going crazy looking back and forth at what was happening, and kept murmuring something in Korean, like he was praying. He looked at the man reading the papers and shook his head and moaned in a low voice, “This not good! He reading papers upside down! We be in big trouble!”

An idea came in my mind and I softly spoke out of the corner of my mouth without moving, “Give me some money.”

“What you say?” Sang whispered. He was jittery and sweating profusely.

“Give me some money, I don’t dare move.” My heart was pounding and I was petrified!

“Oh, good idea,” he said as he handed me a US twenty dollar bill.

Cautiously I took the money and slowly held it up to the guard. He snatched it out of my hand, threw the papers at me, holstered his gun and then slammed the car door.

He strode up to the other soldier who was standing over our driver who was still crumpled on the pavement, writhing in pain. The two men talked amongst themselves for a moment before they turned their attention on our driver. They shouted at the driver then yanked him up and forcibly threw him into the front seat of the car. The poor man was covered in blood and he had two big open gashes on his face from the blows of the rifle. Blood oozed down his face and neck.

The soldier, who held the gun on me, smashed his fist onto the hood of the car and then sharply signaled to us to get the heck out of there. Our driver pulled his shirt up to wipe the blood out of his eyes then pulled the lever into reverse. Once the car was turned and we were speeding out of there, I twisted around and witnessed the soldiers laughing and high fiving each other, presumably over their newly acquired money.

Around the corner and out of sight of the checkpoint, I told the driver, “You’re in trouble. Pull over and let me drive for you,” but he wouldn’t hear of it and refused. When we finally arrived at the embassy, we carefully helped him out of the car and into the clinic where he received prompt medical attention, including dozens of stitches.

On this assignment to Khartoum, I had already come face to face with Muammar Gaddafi and been held at gunpoint by his henchmen. I had also witnessed a man shot and killed in the hotel (those experiences were recorded in, A Close Encounter at the Hilton Hotel). Now with the experience at the checkpoint, I had no more inclinations for any further sightseeing in Khartoum and I was anxious for our job tasks to finish, so I could fly home to normalcy and safety.

_________________

Thanks for reading, I appreciate the votes and comments