continuing out towards the new International Football Stadium, new housing construction, over the railroad tracks and into what in America, we would call a modest sub-division.
This is where Nicholas lives with his 25 year-old daughter, Diana, who just arrived from Uganda to look for work. When we arrive, Nicholas is finishing his tea, so I alight with my camera.
People are people the world over. I took pictures of men sitting under trees with their coffee,
boys and young men walking to school at their local mosque, 
the owners of the corner grocery store.
Also, the goats as well as the landscape in front of Nicholas’ house.
Later that morning, I went with Tito and Sapanna to old Khartoum. Finally, a chance to see the city and to take pictures.
Not.
The government is not too fond of tourists taking pictures of anything. Sapanna is very anxious. However, I am quick and snap pictures when traffic stops.
But, not quick enough in some cases. The presidential palace and museum that is built on land originally owned by The Episcopal Church of the Sudan, is magnificent. There is a court case pending, but seeing the property, not much chance of recovery.
The Post Office is not to be believed. It is a huge building, but you enter by a side door and stop. You must make a sharp right, crossing underneath an iron staircase, but only after you obtain permission from the guard. The pathway is about two feet wide and on the left are different sized green boxes with numbers printed in white but only in Arabic.
I get some pictures of more trees in a public park. Then on our way again, onto a major road in downtown Khartoum.
Lots of big banks and corporate offices. I see SHELL. Tito heads to the Bank of Khartoum and Sapanna and I head to buy fish. Apparently, not just any fish, but only fish cooked at this little restaurant. This is where I enter another world.
Here are the bazaars of old. Lots of small streets, lined with merchants that sell everything. Smells of hot oils, barbecued chicken, very deep fried Nile Fish, like a very thin flat flounder. Turkish, Egyptian, English coffee smells, all roasted. Everyone takes lots of sugar. The streets are sand and old red bricks. Something old has come down to build something new.
I stop to admire a beautiful old gold historic building in the middle of all these stalls. It is surrounded by a green iron fence and gates. Standing in the middle of the street, I take a picture. Sapanna tells me I will get arrested. I think not, but I cannot prove otherwise.
We leave the main walking path and make our way down an alley, right out of Ali Baba and the 40 Thieves. Sapanna stops at windows, inquiring about the fish. We enter through a very short doorway and make our way through a black and white tiled hallway and floor, that has seen much better days. Small alluminum tables are placed here and there and men, only men, are eating this fish. It is served on paper, with lemon and paprika, I think. Below the tables are the cats that are eating what has been dropped from above.
Sapanna disappears and returns with three pieces of fish, a piece of round thick pocket bread, lemons, chopped onions. He wraps it up, puts it in the bag and away we go. But, not very far.
Taking a different route, I enter into another century. At least it looks that way. Smaller and darker booths, lots of food being cooked, but the merchandise is cells phones, sunglasses, etc. Sapanna stops to buy a new case for his phone and I go looking for water.
I enter one store, and a boy is arguing with an adult in front of a freezer. I look for water, seeing none, leave. But, we are all thirsty and I return. Everyone stares. I say Mouya (water) and the boy finds a bottle. I need another. The boy can say Very Good., but not much else. I leave also with a box of Kleenex, which I catch as it is thrown to me from the back of the store. Claps all around. Is my reputation preceding me?
Finally, we continue walking, and after one misstep, I now hold my skirt in up in front of me. Sapanna and I head to the Sudanese French Bank to exchange money. Yesterday, my one month renewal Visa cost me 180 pounds and that wipes out $100.
Moving through traffic toward the bank reminds me of NYC. Cars and people want the same spaces. However, here everyone jaywalks and the cars pay no attention to the limited number of stop signs or the traffic lights. If there is not a traffic cop directing traffic, it is everyone for themselves. I have decided to return one day in a Hummer.
The bank is air-conditioned. I want to stay forever, and we do sit a while downstairs waiting for Tito. Then off again returning to Arafat and the Cathedral.
As we drive back, I have my camera out taking pictures of buildings. But then, people in cars along side us see the camera and want their pictures taken.
They are all smiles. It confuses me, because they will never see the pictures.
We return and find reticent Nicholas on the computer. He has opened Quick Books and looked at the Balance Sheet and then has opened Excel. I take his picture.
They eat the fish, breakfast in Sudan.
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