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Sudan is a very diverse country , it is a multicultural and ethnic collection of opposites you may say , from Christianity to Islam ,the states of Sudan vary in adopting either doctrines , and it is not only religious diversity that defines Sudan , but Sudan is known to be a mixture of races that -frankly- you rarely see together in the same region due to … hmm let’s just call it “ key differences “ (hint : they are more than that , those “key differences” are more like “tribes mercilessly slaughtering each other for the source of food and water “ , but hey I’m writing about my country in an international website so I should at least make it look cool right ? I’m a patriot and I’m not ashamed of it ) , but I digress , what was this about again ? oh , a travel story , I have a bunch of those , let’s begin . So aside from the massacres and genocides and the below-poor-line standards of living , Sudan is actually a pretty cool country , and despite me being a nerd that rarely leaves house there was actually a travel experience that won’t be erased from my memory , one that I thoroughly enjoyed . You see , I live in Sudan’s Capital (Khartoum) , and like all capitals it is overcrowded and one needs to breath pure air from time to time . My destination was my home town (Um Rwaba) , it’s a half city half village in terms of Architecture but that’s exactly why I love it , I admire everything pre-modern , that’s in part because I’m a big history fan , and also because I think that modern life has taken our freedom in many ways and put us in cages , I know this sounds cheesy but I have grown to despise the way modern-humans live and I’m a person who does not like boundaries so yeah you can guess I very much liked my home town. As my feet departed the bus and with the first step on Um Rwaba’s soil I had the feeling I was in a different world , the quietness of the roads , and the delicate breeze that gently moved my light hair like it was welcoming me , inviting me in . I tried many times to put the feeling of peace I have when visiting this place in words , but my words fall short every time , no matter how eloquent I be or what sophisticated vocabulary I use it just doesn’t quite describe the feeling . From the bus station I headed to my Grandfather’s house or to be exact the family house , and as I was walking towards the door a stream of childhood memories ran in my mind , that time when we climbed up the tree that centers the house to the highest branch , the laughter of my cousins, and the sense of achievement that compared to being in top of the world , the scolding we got from my aunt after we got down , my first kiss with my cousin ( I know , ew) , the time I was bit by the neighbor’s dog . I saw them as clear as day , these memories that I’m certain won’t ever forget . My Grandfather greeted me with his usual magical smile and cheerfulness , and my Grandmother came rushing from the kitchen giving me a hug that brought me to life ( yes I was dead , technically ) , I wrestled the tears of happiness with all my might as my Grandmother led me to the living room while she went to kitchen , I knew I was about to be stuffed to my throat . For the next week I believe I experienced what many people call Heaven , and I don’t mean it in an exaلggerating way , and as I was returning back to Khartoum one thought echoed in my mind : (I don’t like my country , but I love my home)