Growing up in the west and being able to enjoy many privileges while my family back home have their lives disrupted by relentless violence and danger has been one of the most difficult things I had to live with. Why does the world not seem to care? Would it matter more if it were in the UK? What can I do when I feel completely powerless? These are all questions I began to consider after the April 2023 conflict in Sudan.
In this blog I aim to connect with those who are caught up in the diaspora and feel a sense of weakness and hopelessness. Those feelings are not foreign or unusual and are shared by many.
For those who may not be aware of the current crisis taking place in Sudan, the country is currently experiencing a deadly power struggle between the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF). Fighting has already resulted in roughly one hundred and fifty thousand deaths while more than fourteen million have been displaced due to violence. Additionally, twenty-five million people are in need of humanitarian assistance (Center for Preventive Action, 2024). Despite the fighting being between rival armed factions, many innocent and defenceless individuals have been caught up in the crossfire and destruction.
Sudan, along with many other countries of the Global south, is grappling with deep-rooted corruption and political instability. Since gaining independence in 1956, Sudan has struggled to establish a stable democratic system with efficient institutions. This unfortunately led to a long-term civil war (Sidahmed and Sidahmed, 2004). The first civil war in 1955 had claimed 500,000 to 1 million lives (EBSCO Information Services, 2023).
During the second civil war that started in April 2023, two hundred and sixty two women have been raped or sexually assaulted so far (Human Rights Watch, 2024). As a woman, myself, I deeply sympathise with the women in Sudan who endure the horrors of sexual abuse by military officers preying on their vulnerability. It is especially disturbing to learn that women have resorted to suicide in order to escape such cruelty (Wafula, 2024).
While growing up in Oxford, UK, with Sudanese immigrant parents, my understanding of Sudan had been filtered through memories of my mum’s stories and memories.
Although I didn't grow up in Sudan, I had spent many summers there as a child, and thus was able to familiarise myself with my culture and heritage. This had also allowed me to be aware of how different and privileged my life is compared to my cousins in Sudan. As a young adult I am even more keenly aware of the hardships that my family and Sudanese people in general face.
One moment that brought tears to my eyes was when my 10-year-old cousin said that he had witnessed someone engulfed in flames and burn alive in front of his eyes. It was shocking to hear him utter these words whilst describing their family’s arrival as refugees. Hearing about my family members' traumatic journeys while escaping their childhood homes was painful. For one, it was a struggle for them to find suitable transport options to escape violence. One family member travelled for two weeks in a car whilst battling diabetes and an infection with no medicine, professional healthcare, or adequate food and water. Another member of my family lost their life after choosing to stay in Sudan. He was unwell, emotionally overwhelmed and heartbroken at the thought of leaving everything behind ultimately resulting in his untimely death. Many Sudanese people, particularly the elderly, feel deeply rooted in their communities and refuse to let it all go despite the devastation of war. Others find that they lack money and other necessary resources to leave.
One and a half million Sudanese refugees escaped to Egypt since the violence started in 2023 (UNHCR Egypt, 2024.) It has been particularly distressing to hear that these threatening situations were not the only thing they suffered through. To illustrate, they have also faced racism as refugees in Egypt such as being called racial slurs. A teacher had even refused to mark my cousin’s work singling her out from other classmates. I have visited them in Egypt in 2024. We had been screamed at and harassed by people due to our darker skin colour and the slight difference in our Arabic dialect. However, this was still an experience so minute in comparison to the racial abuse faced by hundreds of thousands Sudanese people in general. For instance, many of them experience mass arrests, deportations back to an active conflict zone without due process or held in inhumane conditions in the detention centres. One report states that they are “handcuffed like dangerous criminals” (Amnesty International, 2024). Although one would assume that Egyptians, considered as part of the Global South, would display a sense of unity and solidarity with other marginalised people, Sudanese refugees did not easily find the support they desperately needed. It almost felt as if when faced with those in even more vulnerable conditions, some may take this situation as an opportunity to assert power or dominance that they themselves lack in their other social interactions.
It is uncomfortable to feel safe and happy in Oxford, UK knowing that many Sudanese consider life in the west is akin to heaven. Millions of people in the Global South long for new lives in Western countries, not even realising how these former imperial powers were responsible for bulk of their current woes. The West benefited from the wealth accumulated through colonial exploitation whilst former colonies still face the long-lasting repercussions of the divisions imposed by colonial rule. The West has played a major role in destabilising countries in the Global South and continue to profit from that legacy.
The lack of media coverage in itself is a reflection of the wider disregard of political conflict in the Global South. It sends the message that these countries and communities are not as important as certain other countries and communities. Lack of analytical reporting perpetuates the existing stereotypes that these countries are violence-prone and unable to govern themselves and thus political chaos and civil wars are commonplace.
For me, and many others who have been lucky enough to escape to western countries, the guilt is an all-consuming reality. How do we navigate through this privileged life without struggling through a heavy conscience? People sharing this feeling may navigate it through donating through GoFundMe pages and wider organisations such as UNICEF or Islamic Relief Uk. This is also done through raising awareness on the matter, such as me writing this blog.
Our voices, despite the distance, carry power. Working together to advocate towards change, hopefully will make a difference. For us, who have been lucky enough to escape, Silence is not an option.
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