I got stoned in Jordan. I also got tomatoed, window-framed, slapped and sworn at. When you’re alone, language-less, and unable to understand why you’re on the receiving end of several daily doses of hurtful xenophobia, it’s pretty tough on morale.
In my last post I asked what readers wanted to see more of. At the top of the list was more photographs.
An excellent choice, as I’ve recently been reviewing my raw images from the road. And no other month in my life was more eye-opening than the one I spent trundling through the sun-baked deserts, Nile-side hamlets and roasting savannahs of Sudan, from Egypt in the north to Ethiopia in the south-east.