It's not like spotting the White Cliffs of Dover. In fact, the buildings seem not to rise out of any land at all but from the horizon itself. Behind the buildings stand huge cranes, like mechanical giraffes stretching their necks over a watering hole, nuzzling at the backs of the giant beasts that pass through into the Suez Canal. What strikes me and Markus most as we watch from the deck is that this dusty stretch of port we see before us will eventually lead into that fabled continent of wildlife and beauty.
We remain on-board as the port officials arrive to engage in what they would call paperwork and what others would call corruption in its most overt form. The captain, a master in the art of bartering, manages to maintain charm and good humour without entirely surrendering his dignity to the several port officials who enter his office.
The reason for dotting the cigarette cartons around the room yesterday becomes clear when the captain invites a slimy official to look into the cupboard himself and tries to convince him that twenty cartons is all they have to offer, before eventually giving in and offering some from his “personal stash” in another draw.
After several hours Markus and say our goodbyes to our new friends in the crew and are led reluctantly by one of the officials down a ladder down the side of the boat and into what looks like a small motorboat that will take us for about an hour from the container terminal to Port Said itself.
No comments:
Post a Comment