In the aftermath of the outbreak of the April 15, 2023 war between the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF), civilian movement between territories controlled by either side became fraught with peril. Those who remained in place, often with no viable alternative, were met with suspicion and, frequently, interrogation. Social media pages and Telegram channels circulated names and photographs of individuals accused of having cooperated with the RSF during its control of Khartoum and Al-Jazirah State.
The United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights reported that Sudanese authorities announced that the committee investigating conflict-related crimes had registered more than 131,706 cases, or complaints, tied to violations committed during the war. These included allegations of collaboration or intelligence-sharing with the RSF. Thousands of such cases have since been referred to the courts.
In January, the Wad Madani Criminal Court convicted historian and writer Khalid Bihiri under several provisions of the Sudanese Criminal Code, including undermining the constitutional order (Article 50), waging war against the state (Article 51), and Article 24 of the Cybercrimes Act concerning the dissemination of false news. He was sentenced to life imprisonment.
Bihiri’s case sparked intense debate across social media platforms, and human rights organizations issued statements opposing the verdict. His name had appeared in a video published by the Civil Administration of Al-Jazirah State, identifying him as the state’s Minister of Information during the period of RSF control. Activists in Wad Madani who spoke to Atar said that during the RSFs’ control of the city, Bihiri had provided significant assistance to residents: helping bury scattered bodies and organizing communal kitchens.
Bihiri was arrested in early 2024 as the SAF entered Wad Madani and detained by military intelligence. After six months in custody, he was brought to trial and sentenced. His case reignited debate over the charge of “collaboration”: its legal basis, judicial procedures, trial standards, enforcement of rulings, and the social stigma that has come to shadow those who, for one reason or another, chose to remain in their cities during RSF control.
Diary Entry 01
Mohamed Omar (a pseudonym used for security reasons), 26, lived in Ombada District 19 in Omdurman. His older brother had joined the RSF and was killed in March 2025 in a drone strike by the army at Libya Market.
Seeking to avoid trouble, Omar decided to relocate to Atbara in River Nile State, where he secured work as a labourer in a confectionery factory. But distance offered no immunity. There, he met a soldier who had lived in the same neighbourhood in Ombada and who knew of his brother’s affiliation.
Omar recounted to Atar how the soldier repeatedly taunted him in front of colleagues, calling out, “Where to, RSF man?” Omar warned him that he had no ties to the RSF and no involvement in the war. The harassment continued until a confrontation erupted. Following the altercation, the soldier reported him to authorities, alleging RSF membership.
Omar was arrested and subjected to intense pressure during interrogation to confess to belonging to the RSF. He told investigators he is from the Rizeigat tribe, like most residents of his neighbourhood in Ombada, but had never taken part in the war or in any unlawful activity. His late father, he added, had served in the armed forces until retiring with the rank of sergeant major. Even his given name, he said, aroused suspicion because of its uniqueness; his father had chosen it following a dream he had seen at the time of his birth.
After a full month of silence, Omar’s mother traveled to Atbara in search of her missing son. There, she learned he had been detained by military intelligence. A court in Atbara sentenced him to death, and he was transferred to ad-Damar prison. His mother was permitted several visits. He was later moved to Port Sudan prison.
Despite severe financial hardship, his mother retained a lawyer for two million Sudanese pounds to appeal the ruling. The conviction was eventually overturned and Omar was acquitted and released from Port Sudan prison. He returned to work carrying a copy of his acquittal papers among his identification documents to avoid further security entanglements. He prefers not to speak of the ordeal and has since relocated with his family to a new residence, away from their former home.
Diary Entry 02
In one of Sudan’s major cities, transformed into a ghost town after falling under RSF control, Dr. Yousuf (a pseudonym at his request), a consultant physician at a local hospital, faced a defining choice: to leave or to remain faithful to his professional oath, not in allegiance to any faction.
He chose to stay, particularly as some of his siblings had already been displaced from Khartoum State to live with him. He did not anticipate that this decision would later subject him, and much of the hospital’s remaining medical staff, to successive arrests on charges of “collaboration” after the army retook the city. Their alleged crime, as Yousuf recounted to Atar, was refusing to abandon patients to face death alone.
In the early days of the RSF’s takeover, Yousuf went into hiding for his family’s safety. As humanitarian conditions deteriorated and medical needs intensified, he decided to return to service. He contacted the few remaining staff members and summoned them back to the hospital. Despite shortages of medical supplies and recurring water and electricity outages, they continued operating, performing surgeries for a nominal fee and treating those unable to pay entirely free of charge.
The work was far from safe. RSF forces would storm the hospital to seize fuel allocated by an international organization for power generators or fire randomly within emergency wards.
“I met patients in corridors and sometimes under the shade of trees,” Yousuf recalled. “Death is death, and the needs of the sick do not wait for better conditions.”
Meanwhile, social media campaigns and anonymous denunciations accused those who remained in the city of collaboration, at times even calling for the hospital and its occupants to be targeted. Merely staying in RSF-controlled areas became grounds for questioning one’s patriotism.
“Securing water and food was a daily struggle,” he said. “To that was added the weight of treason accusations. The psychological toll was immense.”
When the army retook the city, relief and celebration quickly gave way to a new ordeal. Weeks later, as Yousuf completed his shift, he found not the staff transport vehicle awaiting him, but a security unit car. He and several colleagues, including the head of nursing, the financial officer, and two fellow consultants, were detained and transferred to university buildings.
“The bitter irony,” he said, “is that we were held inside the Faculty of Medicine, the very place where we had studied.”
During interrogation, Yousuf faced accusations drawn from a widely followed Facebook page. The investigating officer acknowledged that the allegations stemmed from posts on that page. He was accused of receiving a salary from the RSF. Yousuf presented documentation proving he is a government employee paid via the Bank of Khartoum digital application “Bankak” and formally contracted with Médecins Sans Frontières through its Port Sudan branch.
He questioned the logic of criminalizing medical duty.
“We are medical professionals. We woke up to find forces occupying the city. Was I to abandon my patients or treat them? That is the essential question.”
Despite his defense, he and his colleagues were transferred directly to prison, purportedly because the public prosecutor was unavailable due to illness. Five detainees were held in a two-by-two-metre cell, sleeping on bare tile floors. Yousuf recalls seeing a young intern interrogated in the prison yard under harsh conditions.
After 24 hours, a senior prison officer ordered their release upon noting the absence of incriminating evidence. They returned to work that same day. Yet Yousuf was re-arrested and spent 46 days in detention, facing grave charges under Articles 50 and 51 related to espionage against the state, offenses that carry the death penalty or life imprisonment.
He was held in an overcrowded ward of approximately 300 detainees in an extremely confined space. Though prison staff treated him professionally and assigned him a better-ventilated spot, the investigating officer once insisted he be moved to the centre of the ward, referring to him as “Janjaweed.”
Even in detention, Yousuf continued to provide medical assistance to soldiers and inmates alike. Together with other detained medical professionals, he helped contain an outbreak of acute water diarrhea within the prison using minimal resources.
“My grandparents came to this city decades ago from western Sudan,” he reflected. “I do not believe tribe was the primary reason for my arrest. The city is socially interwoven. The real cause is the spread of hate speech and racialised incitement in the media, and the branding of anyone who remained in occupied areas as a traitor, often to settle personal scores.”
Ultimately, Yousuf was released, carrying with him a judicial document confirming that the case against him had been dismissed kept permanently in his bag. Despite the injustice he endured and offers to leave the country, he declined.
“My specialization belongs to the hospital’s patients and to no one else,” he emphasised.
Diary Entry 03
I spent two days subjected to brutal torture. I witnessed other detainees being tortured naked before my eyes.
Osman Al-Nour (pseudonym), medical assistant
Osman Al-Nour (a pseudonym used for security reasons), 55, is a medical assistant with a long military background. He served for 18 years as a medical orderly in the Sudanese army and worked at Kober Police Hospital.
After retiring, he opened a small clinic in his home, providing basic medical care and wound treatment, a common practice among medical assistants in Sudan.
When war broke out, Osman remained in his home in South Omdurman and continued to treat civilians, particularly as most health institutions had ceased operating.
Later, members of the RSF stormed his clinic and, at gunpoint, forced him to treat their wounded. That coercion did not shield him from suspicion.
Speaking to Atar, Osman recounted that on August 7, 2024, he was arrested and taken to a commercial building in the neighbourhood that the RSF had converted into a detention facility.
“I spent two days subjected to brutal torture. I witnessed other detainees being tortured naked before my eyes. The charge against me was affiliation with military intelligence. I defended myself by insisting that I provide humanitarian services to all,” he said.
He was eventually released, but armed guards were stationed at his clinic, compelling him to treat RSF fighters. The clinic became a space serving both civilians and RSF personnel, under duress.
On October 23, 2023, his home had already been struck by a mortar shell fired by the army. He believes the shelling was directed at the clinic’s coordinates.
“Tragically, my mother was with me at the time. Part of the house collapsed on her, and she died instantly. I buried her with the help of neighbours and decided to leave for my family in White Nile State.”
To travel, Osman obtained a “movement letter” from the RSF, which then controlled the area. But upon reaching Al-Shatawi in White Nile State, an RSF unit led by a commander known as “Abu Al-Bashar” arrested him again and sentenced him to death on charges of allegiance to the army.
“What saved me,” he said, “was a former patient, an addict I had treated at Kober Hospital who recognized me and intervened for my release.”
After the RSF withdrew from Omdurman, Osman returned to find his home completely destroyed and his clinic looted. Worse still awaited him.
On the night of March 20, 2025, a military intelligence force, three combat vehicles, raided his residence and took him to Surkab, north of Omdurman. There, he was beaten and tortured on accusations of treating RSF members.
“My response was clear,” he said. “I am a professional. I have worked for twenty years and treated everyone. As for RSF fighters, I treated them under coercion and torture. I reminded the officer of their legal and ethical responsibilities toward prisoners, drawing on my experience during the South Sudan war, when we treated captives.”
Osman was ultimately released without trial, following testimony from an army officer. He was later asked to join the mobilization effort and return to military service.
“I refused categorically,” he said. “I have fulfilled my military duty in the past. After everything I have endured, I will not return to military service.”
Trials and charging procedures
14 death sentences have been issued in collaboration cases, several of them still under appeal.
Judicial source
A source at Al-Awsat Court in Omdurman told Atar that cases related to alleged collaborators have resulted in approximately 14 death sentences, some currently under appeal. Cases are transferred from the Surkab area via a designated form to a security cell that conducts preliminary investigations. Most complaints are registered by that same security unit at Al-Hattana police station, followed by further police inquiries before referral to the Karrari Locality Prosecution Office in Al-Thawra neighbourhood, District Ten.
According to the source, the court relies primarily on police investigations, which provide witnesses and documentary evidence. The accused is present during questioning, alongside the complainant, and the court hears all parties. The court also contacts the Legal Aid Administration to represent defendants who cannot afford counsel. Trials are public and open to observers.
While in Port Sudan some trials have been conducted in absentia, this has not occurred in Omdurman.
No death sentences have yet been carried out as judges have not been appointed to the Constitutional Court. Final ratification rests with the chair of the Sovereignty Council.
| State | Death sentence | Life imprisonment | Fixed-term sentences |
|---|---|---|---|
| Khartoum | 14 | 0 | 8 |
| Al-Jazirah | 12 | 2 | 2 |
| Sinnar | 17 | 0 | 6 |
| Kassala | 5 | 0 | 9 |
| White Nile | 4 | 3 | 2 |
| Northern State | 2 | 9 | 1 |
| River Nile | 3 | 0 | 3 |
| South Kordofan | 0 | 0 | 3 |
| Total | 55 | 14 | 34 |
Death and life sentences issued (SUNA reports)
Inside the prisons
Approximately 2,000 of Soba prison’s 4,000 inmates are accused of collaborating with the RSF.
Judicial source
A police source at Soba Reform Facility told Atar that the prison holds approximately 223 minors from various states facing different charges, in addition to large numbers accused of collaborating with the RSF, 36 of whom are currently on trial. A women’s unit within the prison service supervises four female detainees.
Many defendants, the source said, claim they were coerced into working with the RSF. Some reported threats of sexual violence against their sisters; others admitted to selling looted goods taken by RSF fighters in exchange for a percentage of profits.
Juveniles are divided into two categories: boys, 15–18 years, and younger adolescents, 11–15 years. Families are permitted free visits without purchasing entry tickets and may sit directly with them without barriers, unlike procedures in the main prison.
The reform facility employs social workers who submit reports every three months on convicted detainees, who may be released early based on behavioural conditions. Convicted inmates are housed separately from those awaiting trial. Foreign organizations have pledged assistance to the facility, though support has yet to materialize.
The main Soba prison, the source added, holds approximately 4,000 inmates, around 2,000 of whom are accused of collaborating with the RSF.
“Collaboration” without a legal basis
Lawyer Zahir Musa argues that the Sudanese Criminal Code contains no offense titled “collaborators.” The governing legal principle, he told Atar, is “no crime and no punishment without a legislative text.” Judges may not infer criminality without a clear statutory basis.
The term “collaborator,” he said, is a popular descriptor used to refer to those alleged to have cooperated with the RSF. It is not, in itself, a legal classification. Instead, defendants are prosecuted under specific provisions such as Article 50 (undermining the constitutional order) or Article 51 (waging war against the state).
“When we are dealing with crimes punishable by death or life imprisonment,” Zahir said, “we are confronting the gravest offenses. The accused must not stand alone before the court. All fair trial guarantees must be afforded, including legal representation. If a defendant lacks financial means, the state is obligated to provide counsel through legal aid.”
He added that, since the initiation of these proceedings, authorities have often arrested suspects abruptly and, in some cases, extracted confessions under threat or torture. Complaints are then referred to court through abbreviated procedures culminating swiftly in verdicts.
“In my view,” he said, “this contravenes established legal norms and traditions.”
The right to a fair trial, he stressed, is fundamental, even under a state of emergency. It is enshrined in Sudan’s constitutional instruments, from the 1953 Self-Government Statute and the 1956 Transitional Constitution and its amendments to the 2005 Interim Constitution, which consolidated civil and social rights in a single Bill of Rights.
“The recurring problem,” he noted, “has never been the text, but the implementation.”
According to Zahir, prosecutions related to alleged collaborators often fail to uphold core criminal justice principles, foremost among them the presumption of innocence and the requirement that guilt be established beyond reasonable doubt. In practice, many witnesses are police officers whose testimony may not always constitute neutral evidence.
Given the gravity of such charges, courts should adopt expansive, non-summary procedures, allowing full evidentiary examination.
Sudan’s Criminal Procedure Act distinguishes between summary and non-summary trials. The latter are extended proceedings in which courts hear all parties and witnesses and scrutinize documentary evidence thoroughly before reaching conviction. Rushed procedures, Zahir contended, undermine justice; the objective of due process is to arrive at truth.
