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Working in Sudan was an eye opener.

During the ‘70’s I worked on the Darling Downs and ‘77’ we had yet another drought so I took a job spraying cotton in Sudan, North Africa. I arrived in the capital of Khartoum via London and Cairo on Air Sudan, flown by an Australian pilot whose hand luggage included a new motorcar tyre. Khartoum is a city of some 5 plus million located where the Blue Nile, from the SSE and White Nile from the SSW join.
What I remember about Khartoum was the overbearing smell of urine when the day warmed up, the magnificent London Plain Trees lining the banks of the river and General Gordons all steel boat moored there. Even the window shutters were steel to block incoming lead projectiles. Gordon was in Khartoum to rescue part of the British Army and many civilians. Then General Kitchener had gone to rescue him. Churchill, (the one we know from both first and second wars) was fighting at Omdurman (10 miles north of Khartoum).
When I first arrived in Khartoum I stayed at the Excelsior Hotel. There I remember a technician tending a telephone junction box with coloured wires protruding everywhere. When I left, 3 months later, the same man was sitting at the same junction box with coloured wires protruding everywhere. In addition I remember work been done to the external walls. The scaffolding was 4x4 wooden planks and that was okay but they were secured together with G clamps. I woodent have climbed them. I remember to the hotel bar with bullet holes in the wall behind the bar left from a previous coup attempt and meeting John McKeachie (pilot from Myrtleford) in that bar.

This cotton was irrigated from the Blue Nile. This river supports an extensive irrigation area known locally as the Gazera. Featureless of terrain and landmarks, local navigation was difficult. Just cotton, cotton and more cotton, In 90 fedan (acre) blocks. Farming was all by hand, that is no tractors or cotton pickers. Nothing but hoes and shovels. Each farmer was allotted 10 fedans. With five fedans he was compelled to grow cotton and the remainder grew what he pleased. They mostly chose groundnuts which we call peanuts. Spraying the cotton was easy apart from the difficulty in identifying the blocks which were all laid out exactly the same. Easy except for the kids throwing stones at the aeroplane.
Housing was either adobe or straw, depending on the status and wealth of the home owner. Our quarters were adobe and our meals and conditions very basic but of a higher standard compared to that of the locals. The operator I flew for was a national company, set up by a British operator. They had 12 aeroplanes. Pilots were New Zealanders, Dutch, a Spaniard, a Dane, English, a Lebanese and myself. The kampong (village) where we were based was about 50 minutes flying south of Khartoum and I have forgot the name. (It was 45 years ago). It was a wonderful experience. Never the less I was glad for only a short period and to arrive back in Australia were life is mostly orderly.
One of the English pilots was Dave, who was in his mid 20s. A very inconsiderate, poorly mannered and a selfish fellow. He considered himself a bit of a photographer, he took photos and sent film back to mummy in England so she could have it developed and view his job in Sudan. A Dutchman who owed him a considerable disfavour was Gerard Post. Well Gerard figured on a good way to fix up this selfish bastard. He took the poms camera to a brothel, took two very revealing photos of complying and willing girls and replaced the camera from where he got it. I reckon Gerard got even when his mum received these prints back from the photo shop.