{"id":51876,"date":"2025-07-24T21:11:51","date_gmt":"2025-07-24T18:11:51","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/sudanevents.com\/?p=51876"},"modified":"2025-07-24T21:11:51","modified_gmt":"2025-07-24T18:11:51","slug":"traveling-in-the-time-of-drought","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/sudanevents.com\/index.php\/2025\/07\/24\/traveling-in-the-time-of-drought\/","title":{"rendered":"Traveling in the Time of Drought"},"content":{"rendered":"

By Dr. Hassan Saeed Al-Mujamar<\/strong><\/p>\n

My narrator, Billa \u2014 grandson of \u201cUm Balina\u201d \u2014 once told me, during a time when the days were still green, in the early 1980s in our quiet village, how drought had descended upon their region. The sheep perished, and the camels, unable to endure both hunger and thirst, grew emaciated \u2014 their bellies sunken, their chests\u2019 bones protruding. They could no longer carry riders, let alone reach the distant well whose waters had also receded.<\/p>\n

At that point, the elders decided to depart, traveling down Wadi Al-Malik toward the town of Al-Dabba. From there, they boarded a truck called \u201cBarinsa\u201d northward, without a clear plan. The driver kindly directed them to a place called Tungasi Al-Jazeera, known for the generosity of its people and the abundance of homes large enough to shelter many more than their inhabitants.<\/p>\n

Billa\u2019s family settled there \u2014 his grandmother Um Balina, his uncles Ali and Jad Al-Sayyid, and his aunt Fatima. Though they warmly welcomed their nephew Billa, a persistent sadness shadowed his face \u2014 a sorrow time could not erase, though he stood on the threshold of a long life. His mother had died of hemorrhage in her eighth month of pregnancy, taking with her Billa\u2019s would-be sibling. His father had left their homeland after his wife\u2019s death in search of work in Omdurman, promising to return for his son \u2014 a promise never fulfilled, and his fate remained unknown.<\/p>\n

For a time, Billa forgot the tragedy of his parents. His face brightened as his uncle Ali\u2019s wedding celebrations began. Singers from their tribe took the stage, leading joyous chants:<\/p>\n

\u201cThe bridegroom was challenged and rose,
\nThough fearful of the bridal cane\u2019s blows.
\nThe bamboo stick with its frayed head,
\nStrikes hard the defiant without dread.\u201d<\/p>\n

With a trembling but melodic voice, Billa joined in the song, and we all sang with joy and delight.<\/p>\n

But the world granted Billa little reprieve. Soon after, a death knell announced the drowning of his uncle Ali and the bride, their small boat capsizing in the blink of an eye near the Nour Al-Da\u2019im crossing, across from Abu Ajaj village south of Tungasi Al-Jazeera. The townsfolk turned out in full to offer condolences. For days, the mourning tent remained filled with visitors \u2014 relatives who now lived in homes emptied by migration to Wad Madani, Sennar, and Port Sudan.<\/p>\n

That entire family left the area behind, leaving only memories that still echo in the ears of our generation \u2014 memories fragrant with tales of human solidarity, crafted by the village elders in their generous reception of drought-stricken guests.<\/p>\n

And just as those people once left their homes seeking refuge, so did many of us drift toward the capital and other urban centers in search of high schools. Rural schools in the Northern Province no longer served as gateways to university education.<\/p>\n

Traveling was arduous \u2014 a living hell in every season, each harsher than the last. Winter journeys chilled the heart and dried the nose and ears. Summer ones were like walking barefoot on burning coals. And during the rainy season, drivers scrambled to find trails alongside mountains to avoid the mud \u2014 often to no avail. Buses groaned through muddy ravines, jagged rocks, and flooding valleys, where the only sounds were the helpers\u2019 shouts or children\u2019s cries.<\/p>\n

Despite such hardships, we considered our lives slightly better than those of boys like Billa. They raced barefoot after buses and trucks with thin legs and scorched soles, heedless of the blazing sands of Qoz Ab Dulu\u2019 or the thorns buried beneath Wadi Jabra, north of Omdurman. Their greatest hope was a bite of khamiriya or sanou\u2019iya \u2014 date bread, as Northerners fondly call it. Their minds dared not dream beyond that \u2014 except perhaps the distant hope of rain. Its early breezes, the humbareeb, would sweep away the dusty winds and clear their chests for running, playing, and herding sheep and stray camels among the greening branches of the salam trees and the sprouting grass of the wilderness.<\/p>\n

These boys, born into arid lands where trees shed their leaves after winter and winds like Um Sheer carry them away \u2014 along with what little grass remained \u2014 lived amid a harsh, shimmering desert. Sometimes the wind caught those broken grass stalks, trapping them in sand ridges that shimmered under the sun like mirage waves.<\/p>\n

The fortunate among them were those whose childhood coincided with years of rainfall and abundant pasture. The less fortunate grew up during the dry spells \u2014 years when no valley flowed, no udder gave milk, and no fruit ripened. Yet in all cases, their lives were hard, though their fathers never knew despair.<\/p>\n

In this vast desert, grandfathers told their grandchildren stories of past rainy seasons \u2014 storms so fierce that lightning blinded the eyes and thunder shook the mountains. Torrents would flood the valleys and encampments, forcing families to move their blankets from hilltop to hilltop. And at night, they stayed awake, killing the ground creatures flushed out by the floods, searching \u2014 like them \u2014 for safety from drowning, unbothered by whom they bit, even if it were innocent children.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

By Dr. Hassan Saeed Al-Mujamar My narrator, Billa \u2014 grandson of \u201cUm Balina\u201d \u2014 once told me, during a time when the days were still green, in the early 1980s in our quiet village, how drought had descended upon their region. The sheep perished, and the camels, unable to endure both hunger and thirst, grew …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":26888,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[19],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-51876","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-opinion"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/sudanevents.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/51876","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/sudanevents.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/sudanevents.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sudanevents.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sudanevents.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=51876"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/sudanevents.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/51876\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":51877,"href":"https:\/\/sudanevents.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/51876\/revisions\/51877"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sudanevents.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/26888"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/sudanevents.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=51876"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sudanevents.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=51876"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sudanevents.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=51876"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}