A bus is supposed to arrive in Kampala, Gulu has to stop here and continue up to Juba, the first city in Southern Sudan, 200km from the Ugandan border. We arrived at 5:30 in the morning to be sure, the wait is long like a night without sleep. We hear frogs croaking in the puddles of rain, a priest preaching the gospel in a radio trimballee by a man wrapped in a large anorak. Then the cocks crow, and the service station to which new look, along with the locals, eventually die out. It is getting good, we cease to shiver. We see through the first few school children in uniform, officers bicycle safety with their shotgun, then all a lot of people on foot, bicycle, motorcycle, Jeep. But still no large bus. At 9am, a dala-dala stops before we announce it goes up to the border town of Nimule. It is ten dusting our bags and go, but, by packing it, the driver can bring almost double passengers must wait one hour before starting. This allows time to moult vendors come to us section of their bananas, ties, dvd, dermatological soaps. "But I have no problems with M. skin!" a woman protested, laughing. 
It therefore comes from. The dust of the track seems to rust in the sun, both its bright red along the green landscape. When the war was spitting fire on its southern Sudan, the region around Gulu has hosted many refugees. Five years after the signing of the peace, the Western NGOs for education, against hunger, for health, against exclusion, there remain still very active. It makes us funny traverrser such area. The track proves wrong, progress is 20km / h. And then we stop: a truck stuck in ruts of traffic crashes, however meager. At the time, in a roar of engines and splashed muddy, it clears up, finally, we fail more to get into the minibus: the porter was blocked! 
Finally, despite everything, we arrive at the frontier post. Passports stamped and money exchange, Jeremy and I can get on the big bus come to Kampala. We finally catch up, and there are just 3 places! I find myself sitting next to the copilot, fatherly me by regulating the angle of my seat as if I sleep or not, and ensuring that attach to my belt. Sudanese side, track, excellent, or through a hilly savanna Jeremie perceives monkeys. Less funny, all the men wear a Kalashnikov. On a bottom side, abandoning a tank points its gun skyward rust. The driver plague cons a bit shady types who stop the bus to claim a "tax shift". We are not happy with our chosen path ... 
Night Arrival in Juba. Only a few luxury hotels, grocery stores and a fountain has the absurd exuberance are enlightened. Let's see first hotel, but prices are displayed in dollars, and has three figures without commas! Our prices, ie even when 25 Sudanese pounds (8 euros), we landed in tin shacks without electricity (only a generator) or running water. It's hard to call "chamber" the cell in which we settle down: a penalty 3m long, scarcely more than 1.5 m wide, a single bed or bullets reactivate my DEVELOPED allergy to Calcutta, not to mention the ground dusty concrete impossible to rid your ants. At night, rats are riding on the roof in a devil's Rafuse. That evening, we see even go under our bed and climb up the pole that supports the ceiling. Add to this an ugly neon puffing and a fan who, anyway, does not work at night because the generator is off, and a net too short. It more than enough to elect this room the worst of it. And yet, I will evoke the squat toilet collective rarely cleaned, and the pissotierejaunatre shower or tub to wash it with opaque water, drawn from the Nile, trying not to rethink the type we caught peeing in the same shower. 
The day after our arrival, we will register at the police as stated by Sudanese law. In fact, it looks like more to pay a below-the-table, as they noted our names anywhere. But at least they dab our passport and we rule. Back at the hotel, we learn that this season, the road to Khartoum is closed because flooded. However, one of the occupants of the hotel says there are barges every day. It proposes to accompany us to the port in the after-noon. We therefore expect a few hours. When he returns we will see, it displays an air of mystery. "I have to sell mercury" Incredulous, I wonder what the singer comes to the Queen, before he thinks he can understand us refourguer mercury contraband. We laughed a bit nervously, we said that we are not businessmen, and they prudently decline his invitation to go to port insistent together. We feel suddenly very suspicious, is right too, since Jeremy discussed the evening even slip a revolver under his pillow. 
He reigns in Juba a Wild West atmosphere, businessmen or self-proclaimed (and translate truyands) who trade mercury for example, informal brokers, employees of the UN and many NGOs create a human landscape strange . Apart from the good quality hotels and some shops, no building is built of stone. It's a low town, sheets and plates, syphilitic by gray and dusty wasteland littered with bags and plastic bottles. In fact, it looks like a vast refugee camp which has continued. Moreover, it has never seen so many sellers of tents here! Suffice to say that we have no desire to stay there, irrespective of the rat hole where we pose our bags. 
After politely rebuffed Mister Mercury, so we head to the port by themselves alike. The edge of the Nile is invested by many campers, which we do not really know if they wait a prochaind EPARTMENT barge, or if they simply live, close to the useful water for washing, cooking and laundry. The place also teems military. We learn that a barge about to leave for Kosti the same day! On board, there are already heaps of goods, people, goats, camp beds. We find a leader who tells us that the departure is imminent. As no one knows what Jamis does it mean, imminent, in these cases, especially in Africa, Jeremy wants to darken, try. But we do not find the military to have been issued permits and we must rely almost an hour to get to the hole rats recover and return the bags. Already stressing me. And above all, what frightens me is the idea to get on the barge for n'enredescendre that after eight days, while we have no food supply. For this kind of boat, the passenger is done entirely informal manner, each to care for her own supplies. All this to say I panic and that we decide not to go in the precipitation. We learn again, to learn from another barge to the surlendemaion, which gives us the time to prepare. We're now the following day shopping: 5kg of rice, a dozen cans, some apples and oranges, 6 liters of water which then refill the Nile in dealing with micropur, biscuits, and even a tent, because it is the only way to protect from the sun on the boat, whose cabins are reserved for the crew. For the last night before the week without comfort that awaits us, we change our hotel and sleep in a nice bed for "only" $ 50.
the day, as loads of mules, we disembark at the port before 9am. Someone finally told us that the barge did not leave until the next day. We are delighted to spend hardly extra day in Juba, especially as our visa for two weeks will not allow us to take our time in northern Sudan (Juba 5 days + 8 days down the Nile = 13 days already!) That said, AC is still playable, especially since it is possible to ask Khartoum at least one week visa extension. But after a while, someone comes to inform us that the departure is postponed until next day, in other words qux Callender Pharaohs. The only boat that starts tomorrow is a tanker chartered by the UN, which does not take passengers. We try not to lose hope, and are asking other barges. But some are empty, the other for compensation. We have to face facts: our dream is a water falls. Deep disappointment. With nothing to do in Juba, we head to the airport, hoping to take the same day a plane to Khartoum, the capital. M
ais the last flight is now boarding. We are overwhelmed by bitterness, with our heavy bags as mountains, full of provisions now on absurd. It remains for us to buy our tickets for the 7am flight the next day and return to the hotel (good) Popuri rest, and try to digest this disappointment awfully hard to swallow. Fortunately the hotel staff to 3 / 4 empty is adorable. And then there is a lounge where you can watch DVDs. The films are available in the movies that are pulp fiction to literature, but at least we exchange ideas. The next day, without departing stories but late, as if Juba liked to play pots of glue. It is a magnificent flight, and although it is frustrating to see so far lassives her curves, the Nile offers a fantastic view al skein sometimes frayed blue, green avecune to weave all crazier it emerge from the desert. Two hours later, when we do we're still not really used to the idea, we land at Khartoum, which displays a small 37 degrees in the shade.
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