A dusty track connects the city of Al-Fashir with Hillat al-Sheikh, northwest of town—the village whose name emerged during the city’s siege and has become a refuge for those fleeing Al-Fashir’s plight after five months of hardship.
Whereas this road once carried only the occasional cargo or passenger vehicle, today it is crowded with hundreds of travelers: the wounded, people with special needs, women, men, children, expectant mothers and those who have just given birth.
Some walk on foot, while others hire donkeys to carry their belongings, or themselves.
A few unlucky individuals encounter Rapid Support Forces (RSF) personnel, who strip them of everything they own. Some face a lone question: “Are you a fighter?”
The pace and mode of travel vary, but fear grips everyone, their hearts pounding relentlessly, their eyes scanning left and right for RSF patrols.
The acacia trees lining the route are both a blessing and a curse: travellers seek their shade to escape the scorching heat, yet RSF fighters lurk behind them to launch surprise attacks and loot whatever they can carry from the stricken city.
Departure times also differ: some flee by night, hoping to reach safety undetected, while others choose daylight, hoping to find aid if danger strikes.
Al-Fashir has endured a severe humanitarian crisis since the fall of the Zamzam IDP camp and the closure of the last supply routes, leaving hunger in command within the city.
Even umbaz stocks have run low as city mills shut down, and smugglers now only import juice and light goods.
Multiple causes of death have driven the inhabitants of Al-Fashir to flee, despite knowing the RSF presence along the lone exit.
A destination without arrival
We left behind everything, including our clothes. We took only our phones, because RSF fighters focus on seizing loot. Our phones became a deterrent against abuse.
Mohamed al-Hajj, evacuee from Al-Fashir
Mohamed al-Hajj decided to leave Al-Fashir for Tawila locality, 65 kilometres west of the city, after conditions became unbearable. The cost of a bowl of lentil porridge had soared to 45,000 SDG, excluding cooking essentials like firewood, oil and sugar.
Relentless shelling battered the city with so many projectiles that residents could not tally them in a single day, and their unpredictable trajectories made reaching markets impossible amid an acute cash shortage.
In his interview with Atar, al-Hajj said he had seen wounded people die, sometimes from bleeding, other times from lack of medical care.
Al-Hajj and three roommates began asking host families about road conditions and whether evacuees could reach safety without encountering the RSF. They planned to travel together to Mellit, north of Al-Fashir, but could not secure enough cash and stayed two extra days to raise funds. With no alternative, they bought a quarter sack of millet for 480,000 SDG via the Bankak app, planning to resell it at half value for cash.
“We left behind everything, including our clothes. We took only our phones, because RSF fighters focus on seizing loot,” al-Hajj said. “Our phones became a deterrent against abuse.”
They set out the night they obtained the money, spent hours at the Abu Shouk IDP camp, then hired a minibus to Hillat al-Sheikh, carrying only portable jerrycans of drinking water. Al-Hajj described the road as packed with evacuees, old and young, women and children, bearing nothing but water bottles and small parcels of provisions, varying by group size and means.
At the Hillat al-Sheikh station, the driver said no one could go further. When asked about their next destination, he told them they would face a roughly three-and-a-half-hour walk northwest to Qarni.
Mohamed al-Hajj and his companions immediately set out. But twenty minutes later, RSF fighters emerged from the shadows of acacia trees lining the track. Al-Hajj estimates their number rivals or exceeds that of the evacuees.
“They threatened us to hand over everything,” he said.
Before they could retrieve their phones, the fighters searched for them and seized their money and devices, leaving only the clothes on their backs. When they said they were from Al-Fashir, the RSF let them go.
Al-Hajj, his three roommates and other evacuees then encountered successive groups of RSF and armed men.
Minutes later, they saw fighters in armoured vehicles. They reported they had already been looted by earlier bands.
“Those soldiers promised to recover what was taken and offered us water, biscuits, juice and bread,” al-Hajj said.
Between Hillat al-Sheikh and Qarni, they discovered a sizable gathering of Al-Fashir refugees and RSF personnel who had set up feeding stations offering tea, porridge and rice to hungry travellers. They felt surreal relief amid the siege.
Upon reaching Qarni, fighters warned them that local minibus operators were exploiting the desperate and advised waiting for RSF trucks and signing their names on a manifest before boarding.
Al-Hajj noted that when the truck arrived, evacuees boarded without names being called, while RSF soldiers filmed them. They travelled in large RSF-provided trucks, which had their Dushka machine guns removed, and charged 120,000 SDG per person.
Al-Hajj and his companions then rode free on a ZS truck to Kurma, west of Al-Fashir, but could not continue to Mellit. They decided to head to Tawila locality and asked the driver to defer payment after being looted.
“I called my brothers on the driver’s mobile, he was RSF and asked them to send the money and transfer confirmation,” he said.
Upon arriving at Tawila’s IDP camp, they had to return to town because the camp was full. Al-Hajj now struggles to recover from the ordeal and regain his strength before pressing on to an unspecified destination. He has insufficient funds for further travel.
By beast of burden or on foot
A former government official in North Darfur’s capital told Atar he was forced to leave Al-Fashir for Ad-Dabba in the Northern State. He attributed his enduring the year-and-a-half siege to a sense of duty to the city and its residents, convinced that departing would amount to shirking that obligation.
The official, who requested anonymity, endured stray bullets, ongoing skirmishes, repeated assaults, and systematic targeting of civilians. But it was hunger he could no longer withstand.
He spent all his savings to feed himself and his late sister’s three young children, the youngest just two years old, after she was killed by a shell that struck her home. Driven by desperation and the children’s starvation, he resolved to leave.
He and his family travelled from Hillat al-Sheikh to Qarni, then to Mellit, and finally to Ad-Dabba via Kabbabish territory, sometimes aboard makeshift karo carts, sometimes on foot, sometimes riding donkey-drawn wagons, to conserve funds for the remainder of their journey.
The former government employee said the cost to travel from Al-Fashir to Ad-Dabba averages 1.2 million SDG per person, covering both transit fees and minimal food, a scant diet they had grown accustomed to in Al-Fashir, which enabled them to press on without incurring steep expenses.
He detailed ticket prices for each leg of the trip: 70,000 SDG per person by karo from Al-Fashir to Hillat al-Sheikh; 50,000 for a donkey to Qarni; 40,000 from Qarni to Mellit; and 350,000 from Malit to Ad-Dabba.
Once you emerge, you behold paradise. You marvel at goods you haven’t seen in over a year. We had almost forgotten so many things we hadn’t laid eyes on for ages.
Former government official, Al-Fashir
These rates apply even to children over two. He transferred all his remaining money via the Bankak app to a relative’s account in Uganda, concealing his phone within the donkey’s blanket and retrieving it only to send funds.
He said RSF soldiers roam east and west, singling out young men with the same questions: “Are you fighters?” and “What is your role in Al-Fashir?” They then loot civilians’ belongings and let them go.
The former official described RSF as “merchants extraordinaire,” imposing exorbitant fares on passengers, those unable to pay must walk. He noted even armed fighters carry weapons solely for pillage, not combat.
The official likened the humanitarian situation inside the city to hell:
“Once you emerge, you behold paradise. You marvel at goods you haven’t seen in over a year. We had almost forgotten so many things we hadn’t laid eyes on for ages.”
A journey of survival
It defies logic that the very RSF troops who shell civilians in mosques and hospitals… would also carry my baggage, feed and shelter us.
Sana, evacuee from Al-Fashir
Sana escaped with her father and her possessions on the road from Al-Fashir to Ad-Dabba, a feat she finds surreal, given the route is swarming with RSF fighters who loot anyone they encounter along these corridors of refuge.
She had resisted leaving when RSF militants threatened Al-Fashir’s residents, accusing them of joining combat and endangering her father and brother. Yet the city’s collapse forced her departure with her father, leaving her brother behind until fate decided otherwise.
She told Atar she faced no incidents en route and marvelled:
“It defies logic that the very RSF troops who shell civilians in mosques and hospitals and cut off supplies would also carry my baggage near Qarni, ask after Al-Fashir residents, feed and shelter us, and even inquire about my father’s health and how he survived the siege.”
Sana carried a stash of her mother’s and sisters’ gold, her smartphone and two laptops.
“I feared they might stop and search me, and I would have handed over everything to guarantee my safety,” she said. “But by God’s grace, I arrived with all my possessions.”
She rented a donkey in Al-Fashir to reach Hillat al-Sheikh, concealing her goods in large sacks, then hired a karo cart from Hillat al-Sheikh to Qarni. Along the way, she and her father shared water and bread with fellow evacuees and found brief respite at makeshift camps offering tea and porridge to the hungry.
She noted RSF fighters split into two groups: one patrolling under the guise of security, and another openly plundering evacuees in full view of those claiming to protect them. She saw RSF members seize young travellers’ belongings and harass lone women trying to safeguard their goods.
“Now my father and I are in Ad-Dabba in the Northern State after what I call an extraordinary journey,” Sana said, reflecting on her ordeal.
“I finally tasted pasta again after forgetting its flavour a year ago, and I saw a full bar of soap selling for two thousand SDG when it once cost twenty thousand in Al-Fashir. I was amazed by the bustling markets along the way and relieved to be free of explosions and abandoned streets.”
