After the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) seized Nyala, South Darfur’s capital, on October 26, 2023, then Zalingei in Central Darfur on October 31 and Al-Jenaynah in West Darfur that November, they turned their attention to Al-Fashir, North Darfur’s seat, until then spared major battles in the war’s first year, apart from sporadic skirmishes.
Al-Fashir hosted thousands fleeing other Darfur states. In the conflict’s opening days, local leaders brokered a fragile truce between the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and RSF that halted fire, split east-west control and left the centre as a buffer. That accord collapsed in April 2024, igniting fresh clashes and forcing residents into a stark choice: take up arms to survive or face certain death.
Since then, military gear and khaki uniforms have flooded Al-Fashir’s streets. Citizens surged to army command posts, finding themselves in front-line roles: armed defenders, volunteer medics or relief workers, attempting to sustain a city under tight siege.
During the lull, local youth played sports in the RSF-held eastern districts.
“Some RSF soldiers even joined our football games, though we always remained cautious,” Alaa al-Din Yousif, a young man in the city, told Atar.
I must preserve my own blood so I can donate it to the wounded if I stay unharmed
But when RSF brutality against civilians escalated in April 2024, Alaa and his neighbours armed themselves, erected barricades and, coordinating with army units, manned checkpoints. But noting the growing humanitarian gap, Alaa later laid down weapons to volunteer as a field medic.
“I must preserve my own blood so I can donate it to the wounded if I stay unharmed,” he said.
High school teacher Mohamed Ashri began carrying a rifle in June to defend himself, his land and Al-Fashir’s heritage.
“I bought my weapon with my own funds, and I still purchase ammo to protect my dignity, which the RSF violated,” Mohamed told Atar.
His older sister was killed by RSF fire during the February assault on Sallouma, west of the city. Yet he insists his stance, against war but for justice, is clear: he takes orders from the SAF in battle but will not lay down arms until perpetrators of brutality face accountability.
“Until those who crushed our humanity are held to account, I will not disarm,” he says.
You cannot blame someone for defending their family, home and livelihood when the RSF has besieged Al-Fashir for over a year and kills anyone who tries to flee. This has become a fight for survival or extinction.
Mohamed adds that circumstances shift:
“You cannot blame someone for defending their family, home and livelihood when the RSF has besieged Al-Fashir for over a year and kills anyone who tries to flee. This has become a fight for survival or extinction.”
Before the war, university student Mohamed Abdallah studied in Khartoum and worked daily in a campus kiosk. With universities repeatedly closed by the revolution, COVID-19 and family needs, he returned to Al-Fashir as a day labourer in construction. Passionate about photography, Abdallah saved to buy a camera and planned a media-production centre. He intended to resume studies after Ramadan. And then the war extinguished that path!
Abdallah spent weeks documenting displaced families in shelters, sharing their needs and photos online to raise aid, until the RSF accused him of spying and confiscated his camera.
Cleared later, he faced suspicion from all sides.
“Until March 2024, I opposed the war, and I still mistrust every faction,” he told Atar.
When the RSF attacked displacement camps in April, one strike on his family’s shelter killed his uncle and about 20 women and children, Abdallah says he had no choice but to stand with his people. He fought many battles, the largest in February when RSF forces reached the Radif neighbourhood before they reclaimed it. Abdallah regards the SAF as Sudan’s sole legitimate institution, though he remains cautious of some fighters.
Activist Bashir Sufyan initially saw the conflict as a power struggle between generals, until RSF’s Darfur offensives revealed widespread civilian suffering
He says partisans rotate by social role: married men guard mornings, youth hold night watches. Ammunition is self-funded; SAF supplies only arrive during engagements and are scarce. They wear military fatigues out of necessity, not allegiance. Civilian clothes are unaffordable. Abdallah vows never to leave Al-Fashir or lay down arms until the war ends or he falls defending his city.
Activist Bashir Sufyan initially saw the conflict as a power struggle between generals, until RSF’s Darfur offensives revealed widespread civilian suffering.
He bought his weapon and joined the partisan militants in May 2024, sharing resources equally with cousins and friends. He has fought in most battles since and says he will defend Al-Fashir until peace and justice prevail across Sudan.
Volunteers assist the army at neighbourhood checkpoints—often in civilian clothes or donated vests, searching entrants and questioning their intentions. Yet RSF snipers still terrorize districts like Unity and Peace, forcing many residents to flee southwest in June.
Like his peers, Abbas volunteered at the southern hospital before traveling to Chad. Aligned with the Minni Minawi faction’s political wing, he only joined combat after the movement abandoned neutrality.
He fought in North Darfur’s desert fronts, returned two months ago, and insists everyone who can bear arms must do so to prevent Darfur’s fall. He says he will not disarm until every inch of Sudan is liberated and power restored to civilians under a professional army representing all communities.
“I lost my best friends. But the greatest calling remains resisting the RSF’s years of oppression,” Abbas said.
Al-Fashir has become both a military front and a symbol of popular resistance defending the vision of a pluralistic, civilian-led Sudan.
In the absence of a comprehensive political settlement, its defenders prove that true peace will come not from gunfire alone, but from transitional justice, holding perpetrators accountable, rebuilding society and returning authority to its rightful owners: the people.
Mohamed Abdallah’s journey: from chronicler to defender
Mohamed spent his days traversing local shelters, documenting displaced families’ needs, and sharing their stories and photos on social media to solicit donations. For this, the RSF accused him of espionage, seizing his camera, though he later proved his innocence.
His work in the camps drew suspicion from every faction.
“Until March 2024, I opposed the war, and I remain wary of all belligerents because I have been hurt by every side,” he told Atar.
When the fighting intensified in April 2024, Mohamed witnessed the RSF deliberately targeting shelters and displacement camps across Al-Fashir. In one violent sweep, RSF forces struck his family’s refuge, killing his uncle and some twenty others, women and children among them. He witnessed the aftermath: scattered body parts, survivors whom he helped carry to safety.
With no other recourse, he joined the SAF to defend first his neighbourhood, then the city. He has fought in numerous engagements, the fiercest in February when RSF troops advanced into the Radif district before being pushed back.
According to Mohamed, defenders rotate by life circumstances. Married men cover daytime posts and return home at night, while younger volunteers stand evening watch. They purchase their own ammunition: army supplies arrive only during battles and are insufficient for ongoing defense. Though no one favours military dress, they must don fatigues provided by command as they cannot afford civilian clothes amid soaring costs and widespread unemployment.
Mohamed vows he will neither abandon Al-Fashir nor lay down his weapon until the war ends or he falls defending his city.
This is more than a military front — it’s a grassroots stand for a pluralistic, civilian-led Sudan. True peace won’t come from the barrel of a gun, but through justice, accountability, and returning power to the people.
Sufyan’s commitment: shared sacrifice
Like his peers, activist Sufyan once saw the conflict as a mere power struggle between generals, until RSF advances swallowed most of Darfur and civilians endured widespread abuses.
He bought his rifle with personal savings and reported to local command to join the partisan. Even after his family fled, he remained with cousins and friends in Al-Fashir, sharing the little support they received equally, no discrimination. Since joining the resistance in May 2024, Sufyan has fought in most battles.
“I won’t cease defending until this war ends and justice and peace prevail across Sudan,” he told Atar.
Volunteers like Sufyan work at neighbourhood checkpoints alongside army soldiers, often in plain clothes or donated vests. They seal off side streets and guard the main entrances, searching passersby and questioning their intentions.
Despite these measures, RSF snipers still terrorize districts such as Unity and Salam, forcing many residents to flee to southwestern Al-Fashir in June.
Abbas’ resolve: from aid worker to combatant
Abbas Al-Sharif, another local youth, first volunteered at Al-Fashir’s southern hospital.
As clashes escalated, he crossed into Chad but remained engaged from afar. A member of the political wing of Minni Arko Minawi’s Sudan Liberation Movement, Abbas initially abstained from fighting. When his faction dropped neutrality, Abbas joined front-line units in North Darfur’s desert, then returned to Al-Fashir two months ago.
“We never battled before. But now every capable person must bear arms, so Darfur doesn’t fall under RSF control,” he told Atar, vowing to hold his ground until every inch of Sudan is liberated and civilian authority restored.
Like many veterans of this partisan front, Abbas saw his aspirations shattered and lost dear friends to violence. Yet he remains driven by a determination to confront the RSF’s long-standing injustices.
Al-Fashir’s symbolic stand
As Al-Fashir transformed into a militarized front line, it also became a beacon of grassroots resistance defending the ideal of a pluralistic, civilian-led Sudan. In the absence of any comprehensive political resolution, the city’s defenders embody widespread rejection of rule by force alone. Their stand confirms that the war’s end will not come solely from the barrel of a gun, but from transitional justice that holds perpetrators accountable, reforms institutions, and returns power to its rightful holders: the people.
