A Whirling Finale

One of the dancers had spotted Keith trying to film the ceremony and pulled him from the crowd and into the centre of the Whirling Dervishes' arena. Grabbed by the wrist and forcibly dragged away, with no explanation, he was thinking he had done something wrong. Rasheed had drilled it into us that taking photographs in Sudan could cause problems, but in Keith's hour of need he was nowhere to be seen.

Meanwhile, Jan realised that she was all alone in the crowd. A lady, who was obviously finding the Sufi service very emotional, had tears running down her cheeks as she prodded Jan in the arm. Not understanding what she wanted, Jan tried sign language. The woman was becoming more irate and started jabbing her. "She wants you to give her a photograph" explained a young man who had been watching the events unfold. "I can take her photo but I can't give it too her." Jan's hands clutched her camera as she searched the crowd to find Keith. "That's okay. Just take her photo." The resulting picture wasn't that good. Jan had after all been thumped and prodded only seconds before. The woman was delighted, however, and Jan was her new best friend. 

Not a Good Photo but Jan had just been thumped!

It had started calmly enough with a few men taking it in turns to chant and dance, surrounded by a circle of onlookers, in front of the tomb of Hamed al-Nil in the middle of an Islamic graveyard on the outskirts of Omdurman. The loud arrival of a procession of priests, clerics and a crowd of followers signalled the start of the service. Some wore the bright green and red robes of followers of the Hamed al-Nil Sufi sect, with strings of beads hanging around their necks - a look a garden gnome would have been proud of - while most of the others wore pure white robes. 

After standing for a few prayers, the next hour or so of the service involved the priests and devotees marching in a circle, and occasionally twirling, to the rhythm of the pounding drums and loud singing of the congregation, led by the gnomes, er, Sufi clerics. The music had a modern sound with a heavy beat and lots of chants to Allah, getting faster and faster before stopping and starting again. It was nothing like our Whirling Dervish experience in Cappadocia. No solemn service followed by silent whirling on the spot for minutes on end. The whirling here would start randomly and only by a handful of devotees, usually when the music sped up. A few were dressed in shabby harlequin robes and their multicoloured rags flared out when they twirled, illuminated by the glow of the setting sun.

It was all very inclusive, with men and boys, from the very old to toddlers sitting on their father's shoulders, going into the arena to join in. Some elements also reminded us of the priests dancing at Lidat in Lalibela, as a line of men, forming an outer circle, sang and bent forward in time with the beat. The rhythm and smiling was infectious and soon our toes were tapping and we were singing and dancing along too, to the delight of those around us.

Although it is billed as Khartoum's biggest tourist event, we only saw four other westerners. Everyone else was Sudanese and incredibly welcoming and keen to practice their English. So, having been told "no photographs" at various towns and cities across the country, the authorities had made an exception here. Perhaps it was because the ceremony is in a graveyard, or that there were no bridges, or municipal buildings in sight, and that the few candy sellers hardly constituted a market, but we finally felt that our, often difficult, journey through a tumultuous history had brought us to a very special part of modern day Sudan and it was a very welcoming place to be. If you're in Khartoum on a Friday evening, the Whirling Dervishes should not be missed. It was the highlight of Sudan for us.

And what happened to Keith? He had been pulled into the centre, not to be told off, but to get a better view of the action. The man had seen Keith joining in the dancing, behind a line of particularly tall devotees, and wanted to thank him. "Next time we'll give you a white robe" he joked.

Keith in the centre of the action