Khartoum: Searching for a Needle in a Haystack

For the past month I 've enquired without success, around the shops and supermarkets, where I could buy a a "housewife". For those who don't know what this is, I think the name was invented in the army. It is a little box which contains two different-size needles, half a dozen straight pins, three small gold safety pins, a few buttons and a cardboard holder with various coloured cotton wrapped around it. Above is a photo of the housewife which the previous inhabitant of this flat left behind. Nowhere in Khartoum could a housewife or even seperate items of this sort be found.

Entering our neighbourhood,Omdurman, last Saturday, my husband said he'd just thought of a place which might sell needles and cotton. As we drove past one of the spaza shops in our street, he pointed to it and said: "That is where you will find your sewing requirements" I need to clarify here: just as I'm not a handywoman (one who changes car tyres, replaces electric plugs, hangs pictures on walls) neither am I a needlewoman. At school I took science as a subject instead of Housecraft, because of the sewing involved. Planning my wedding way back in 1972, I suddenly had the urge to make my own wedding dress. Everybody, including the bridegroom-to-be collectively held their breath. They all predicted (incorrectly, as it turned out) that I'd be sewing the gown's hem minutes before walking down the aisle. I must admit, I was still embroidering little pearls onto a six-foot train the night before my wedding, but I finished it in time for the wedding. That was the first and last time I sewed any garment. However, I have fixed hems and secured loose shirt buttons. This is why I need a housewife here in the flat.

Before I continue with my mission to find a housewife in Khartoum, I need to tell you about my latest acquisition: an abaya. (Pictured above)Because I subscribe to really casual wear at home (knee-length khaki shorts, tee shirt and flip-flops) it's impossible for me, in this country, to just pop downstairs into our courtyard or across the street to the shop. Until now, when I went out, I'd change into a long skirt and wrap a hijab (headscarf) around my head. I don my sunglasses and I'm ready for the outdoors. But it's been a schlepp. Now I can slip my abaya over my house-wear, wrap a black hijab (a gift from dear friend Fazila, back home in South Africa) over my head and neck and viola!

On Saturday afternoon, I donned my [new] traditional street wear, picked up my purse and set off up the road to the spaza shop. When I arrived at the very well-stocked and set-up spaza shop, I greeted the owner and showed him the little sewing kit and it's contents. He nodded and pulled out a whole box of needles in little grey packets. When I gestured that I'd also like some cotton, he reached into the glass-topped counter and pulled out a box filled with cotton of every hue. I chose a black one and a khaki one. When he'd placed all three the items on the counter, I asked him "Kham hada" and he held up two fingers. SDG2/US$.80c. Amazing! He had no buttons but my husband assures me that I'll find them at the Souq market. He's taking me there this Friday as a birthday treat. Whoohoo!

I stride purposefully back to the flat building with my sewing items in my hand (it's quite difficult to distinguish between me and my shadow. LOL!)

Mission accomplished...

...sufficient sewing accoutrements for my type of needlework