Digging for treasure in Sudan: An unforgettable experience

The idea of fieldwork in a new region is always an exciting prospect to an anthropologist in training. When last October I was offered a supervisory position with a Sudanese archeological expedition I accepted with little hesitation.

Turns out that the idea of going to Sudan (officially called the Republic of the Sudan) would be an easier task than physically travelling to the recently partitioned, Shariah-imbued state. Marred by its own political and ethnic animosity, its internal turmoil (i.e. the genocide in Darfur in the west, and warring disputes over territory with South Sudan) is more or less exacerbated by its unstable neighbours: Chad, Eritrea, Egypt, Ethiopia, Libya, Central African Republic and, of course, South Sudan. It took months of planning and several rounds of political jump-rope before I was given the go-ahead — but that is a different story.

Khartoum's small and dusty airport was nothing like Vice's depiction in their documentary "Inside Sudan." My quick breeze through security and customs — where my passport and visa were returned to my pocket after I entered Sudanese territory — was unlike the difficulties anticipated by Shane Smith and his camera crew when they landed in Khartoum. My pickup from the arrival terminal was equally smooth, and counter to Vice, I did not experience men in military uniform sporting AK-47s, nor did I feel it necessary to dress in the traditional jellabiya to partly disguise my Western-based origins. Instead, a Greek man named George promptly ushered me to the well-known Acropole Hotel, a place where the modern accoutrements of Hellenistic comfort blend amid a dry and arid desert city.

After a short stay there and quick rendezvous with the rest of the archeological team, we left Khartoum behind en route for the Nubian Desert. The long desert drive from Khartoum to the S-bend of the Nile is peppered with large and small towns, interrupted only by an excessive number of government checkpoints and highway toll stations. One positive thing about each of these stops was the promise of tea and food, all in good Sudanese form, and, as per biological requirements, the not-so-positive experience of the dreaded highway hammam (that is, unsanitary roadside Turkish-style toilets, or "squatters").

It is almost impossible to miss the material history atop Sudan's rugged surface. Human occupation of northeast Africa dates back to the dawn of our species, and though part of that history is not always obvious, signs of its past civilizations are everywhere. Remnants of the once successful civilizations of Kerma, Meroitic Kush, and even fragments of Nobatian Christendom persist despite Islamic expansion into Sudan just shy of 1,400 years ago. Modern Sudan is a palimpsest of its deep and varied historical traditions and customs.

Our team was tasked with excavating heavily pillaged and looted (though not all had been destroyed) late-Kerma-period burials; graves constructed about 3,500 years ago, equivalent in time with the New Kingdom Period of ancient Egypt. The burials contained little by way of high status artifacts, items associated with the rich and wealthy. If high status commodities were placed together with the ancient dead, thieves had long removed them.

Sudan's geographic landscape is vast, ranging from savannah land and semi-tropical environments in the south to the unimaginable stretch of the Sahara in the north. The people are even more diverse. I found the friendliness and genuine sincerity of the Sudanese is without parallel compared to other developing countries. In Sudan, people ask for the educational basics: pens, pencils, markers, and stickers. Not money.

Our days off were rewarded with small-time adventure treks. Most Fridays were spent walking to large hills, called jebels, in the middle of the desert on both sides of the Nile. Over time we became familiar with our small desert area, called Wadi Gaud, and decided to go farther afield to explore the villages across the river. Our first reception was taken with caution: the children ran away instead of toward us, and the parents kept to their compound entrances with their gazes fixed. Gradually, though, caution was replaced with curiosity, and by the last trip across we were invited in for food, drink, and the most broken Arabic/English conversation I ever had. The best part about Sudan is the people.

In the end, my season was cut short by an acute tonsil infection severe enough to keep my body temperature too high for too long. And despite the hardships involved in desert living and the possibility of sickness and dehydration around every corner, I would do it again in a second.