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for those of you who opened my last story and found none; please pardon me.


Some Additional Thoughts I have on Sudan.

Khartoum airport had a junk pile of aeroplanes. Some old and outdated and some I don’t know why were there. Another roof only hanger housed two Piper Cubs. They must have laid idle for some years. The tires were partly flat and the roof lining had collapsed. They were dirty from sand drift. Otherwise they were in excellent condition and I’m sure they would have started and flown with new fuel and oil. There was a foot track worn to that hanger. I reckon every one of our pilots made several visits to view them and wondered how they could get to take them to their home. I certainly did.

There was a hanger with several expensive single engine aeroplanes, all maintained and I suspect hadn’t been flown for a long time. I was told they were owned by a vet who had been given a fortune by a wealthy sheik from a middle east country for having saved his favourite horse.

Duty free liquor was available but only one of our blokes could get admission to the premises. The Spaniard who was wise enough to bring an airline uniform with bars and braid. His appearance made him look official. The locals placed importance on appearance.

The lost baggage lockup. About an acre in area, fenced in and piled maybe 15 feet high. This had been exposed to the weather for years. I felt no attempt had ever been made to return it to the owners. Much of it was upmarket and expensive.

I wrote a story of a reprimand I had with and airtraffic controller that is worth a read. Number 388 on 12 Dec 2018.

I made a good friend with a Dutchman, a scallywag named Jerry. Jerry never had any money and would borrow from me. Never returned. Mainly he would purchase liquor but I’d help him consume it.
Kids would come to the aeroplane and when we’d finish a job I would lift kids, random selection, one at a time of course into the plane. There they would sit for a short time, then Jerry would lift them out and give them a lolly. They would have been village heroes for quite some time. One day whilst Jerry was loading, a Jack donkey mounted a Jennet and pushed her into the propellor and killed her. A donkey was a very prized possession. Jerry bought the distraught owner, a kid another. Gary's money of course.

We had one pilot I found selfish and disagreeable. Jerry had good reason to dislike him. This fellow had a camera, 35mm in those days, and because there was no access to photo services he would send this canister of film home to his mummy to be developed and printed. Jerry took his camera to a brothel, took a few shots of girls in a most personal and revealing pose and returned his camera from whence he had taken it.

Now the beer. The first mouthful I took I spat out. Jerry laughed and said I’d take only a few days to cultivate a taste. Jerry was correct in his prediction. It was labelled “Camel” and I reckon it was made from camel shit and straw stubble.

The chemical we sprayed was all insecticide. We were required to make 9 runs across each block. In the past some pilots cheated and cut short the number. The block inspector had wised up and sent his deputy to watch. He was given a tin and 9 stones which he used to make tally.

And sometimes the kids would throw stones at the aeroplane. I’d chase them around their adobe villages, they’d run like mad and enter houses, any house, but I would buzz it until they left for the shelter of another. A bit like aerial mustering cattle. I’d end up chasing the biggest crowd of kids, there could have been 100 in all. That would stop them. It was quite amusing really.

And for the airline pilots reading this, my departure from Sudan on the national airline; 7 attempts were made to intercept a departure radial. Pilot got it on the 8th.

Yes, I have many memories of Sudan. Mostly good but other memories of frustrations. Don’t forget to read 388 on 12 dec 2018.