We got up Klaudio early in the morning. My mind was burned sometimes when we walked on the edge of Dongoli. On the way through the market I bought unleavened peanuts and felt like in India. Despite the Nile, he picked us up.
I started to stop at the Karima city, 150 km away. She was driving a lot of cars, but they all went around the corner. After a while, we came a guy. He proudly banged his chest with the words: I am a police officer, please pass. He was rather funny and dear, so there was no problem that made sense and showed.
We came to the center of Karima. It was still a terrible heat, so we headed straight to the river, where I had the desired bathing. The sun set and dried the warm breeze. Faji came from the nearby house. We spoke. He works in Saudi Arabia, wife with a child lives in Khartoum and comes to visit her sisters.
He invited us to the tea house. Faji looked smart and fair. We went into the yard and I felt like a bomb exploded. The house was very old and seemed to fall apart soon. Everywhere there were piles of clothes and crash. It was just worse than gypsies. I did not get into my head at all. Later I realized that they are not poor, but uneducated, which in their essence makes them angry.