In the relentless dance between exile and homecoming, Sudanese refugees find themselves ensnared in a cruel paradox, fleeing war only to be thrust back into its unforgiving embrace.
As the conflict’s reach extends, engulfing cities and regions once thought safe from the ravages of the Rapid Support Forces, and with the military’s reluctance to engage in negotiations that might end the bloodshed and alleviate the suffering of the Sudanese people, many displaced families have made the agonizing decision to return to a homeland now fraught with danger. This return, however, comes amidst worsening economic and humanitarian crises, compelling them to choose between enduring the violent clash of battle or the torment of displacement that they have already borne.
The stories of this reverse exodus are as endless as they are heartrending, narrated by the men, women, and youth who have lived them. These tales are tinged with sorrow and tears, recounting the ordeals, perils, and harrowing experiences endured on the fraught journey back to their homes, a journey they undertake not as heroes, but as individuals left with no other option. The once promising lands of refuge have become as hostile as the warzones themselves, leaving these families to grapple with the uncertainty of their fate and the ominous unknown of what the future of this war may hold.
Fading Hopes
Amid restless journeys between Shendi and Atbara, marked by repeated displacements and an unstable existence, Aisha and Khadija’s hopes for a swift end to the war have withered away.
Faced with a future of constant upheaval, the sisters decided to return permanently to their home in the Karari suburb of Omdurman. Their aim, to carve out new opportunities and put an end to their cyclical displacement, despite the profound demographic shifts in the area.
Karari, in north Omdurman, which has seen an influx of families fleeing nearby war-torn regions, remains one of the few areas less affected by direct clashes between the warring factions. In the absence of its original residents, some displaced families have found refuge in the vacant homes.
Upon their return, Aisha and Khadija were met with a neighbourhood they barely recognized; new faces where old neighbours once lived. Now, they must navigate building new social ties to mitigate the harshness of war while tending to their small household gardens, lockally known as jabarik (singular: jubraka), which they cultivate to feed their families amidst skyrocketing prices and the looming threat of famine.
Khadija vividly recounts the anguish of their displacement and return.
Upon their return, Aisha and Khadija were met with a neighbourhood they barely recognized; new faces where old neighbours once lived
“We left for Atbara and Shendi after violent shelling reached our home in Karari, where we lost several neighbours to death and injury. But we grew weary of wandering and displacement. The relentless rise in rent costs in the cities where we sought refuge, the sorrow of losing our elderly father far from home, the uncertainty of our children’s education, and the stigma of being displaced that follows us everywhere. We had no choice but to come back,” she says.
“Yes, the neighbourhood has become desolate, the streets are unsafe, prices are extortionate, and the shelling still hammers Karari. But displacement is even more costly and challenging. We are trying to find work and manage our children’s schooling from home, as we receive no aid. We hope that our extended family, still scattered across cities and rural areas, can reunite,” Khadija hopes.
Fatima, another returnee, tells Atar that some of their neighbours have already begun returning after the Rapid Support Forces overran their original hometowns, forcing their families to scatter across villages in Al-Jazirah and Sennar states. With no other option, they, too, returned to their homes in Omdurman.
“We urge the leaders to engage in negotiations and end this war immediately, so people can return to their homes and resume their lives with dignity,” she says.
Tawfiq Saeed says his decision to return home with his family after being displaced to Al-Jazirah and then to the Nile River State was not driven by any calls for civilians to return to their homes, but by a personal and pressing need
Tawfiq Saeed says his decision to return home with his family after being displaced to Al-Jazirah and then to the Nile River State was not driven by any calls for civilians to return to their homes, but by a personal and pressing need. He lost his job shortly after the outbreak of the war, following what he describes as a “massacre,” in which nearly a thousand employees were summarily dismissed from Faisal Islamic Bank.
Tawfiq first sought refuge in Al-Jazirah for about two months, but the environment there was not conducive for his family, especially with the delayed start of the school year.
They then moved to Al Damer, only to be displaced again by the advance on Wad Madani, enduring a long and grueling journey in search of work, an effort that proved futile as the job market in Al Damer was severely depressed, leaving displaced people with only marginal and temporary work, where they faced harsh harassment and persecution from local authorities.
“It was then that I decided to return to my home in Omdurman. It is where my family belongs, despite the daily tragedies and disasters that await us there. Throughout our displacement and return, I exhausted all my savings. I am now planning to emigrate, as I believe this war will not end anytime soon,” Tawfiq told Atar.
The flight of over 10 million people from their homes, including 9 million internally displaced, as reported by the International Organization for Migration’s Displacement Tracking Matrix in July 2024, has created the epicentre of the world’s largest displacement crisis. These individuals, particularly women and children, are enduring severe humanitarian conditions. Twelve states across Sudan have witnessed mass displacement, with over 8.6 million people forced to flee due to ongoing conflict. More than 6.7 million of these displaced persons are now living with host communities across 7,251 locations in Sudan’s 18 states. This situation preceded the further deterioration of conditions in the states of Sennar, Blue Nile, and White Nile.
A Reverse Exodus
Isam Musa and his family found themselves compelled to leave White Nile State as the situation there worsened, turning the area into an isolated island where life became unbearable. The prices of goods and fuel skyrocketed to unprecedented levels, especially after the closure of the road connecting the state to Sennar, which also links Port Sudan and Atbara, a vital artery for transporting goods, food supplies, and fuel.
Isam shared the details of his harrowing journey with Atar:
“It was a grueling reverse exodus, from Al-Duwaym to Al-Thawra neighbourhood in Omdurman. The journey took seven full days, navigating a perilous dirt road that cut through villages overrun by the Rapid Support Forces and enduring the relentless downpour of rain.”
Crammed into a dilapidated minibus, Isam’s family, including his ailing mother and young children, struggled through a severe transportation crisis. The bus broke down multiple times and had to navigate through military checkpoints first, then those of the Rapid Support Forces, all the while fearing attacks from bandits, enduring personal inspections, bribes, and the scarcity of food and water, with soaring prices at every stop along the way.
“And don’t ask about the scenes of destruction at the entrance to Omdurman, wrecked vehicles, burnt tires strewn across the asphalt, endless military checkpoints, and the growing presence of the Rapid Support Forces, who extorted us more and more the deeper we went,” Isam recounted to Atar.
A forced return to a fragmented nation
As food supplies dwindle and violent assaults on girls and women escalate, with men being killed on ethnic grounds, homes looted, and theft rampant, the number of refugees fleeing to neighboring countries continues to rise.
According to a report by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) released in early July 2024, an estimated 2.6 million Sudanese have sought refuge in neighbouring countries since April 2023. Chad hosts the largest share, with approximately 1.2 million refugees, followed by Egypt with 640,000, South Sudan with 447,000, Libya with 149,000, Ethiopia with 140,000, and the Central African Republic with 40,000 people.
In the wake of recent events in Al-Jazira, Sennar and North Darfur States, most of the newly displaced have sought refuge in Chad and South Sudan. However, some Sudanese refugees have expressed a desire to return to their war-ravaged homeland despite the limited options and the raging conflict. The harsh economic conditions in host countries, exorbitant rent prices, difficulty in integrating into local communities, social discrimination, and living in unsafe, impoverished neighborhoods, along with the inability to resettle in a third country due to the lack of resettlement criteria, have made life unbearably challenging.
Ibrahim Mustafa was one of those caught in this vortex.
When the Rapid Support Forces stormed the capital of Al-Jazira State, he lost his job at a food distribution company in Wad Madani. His home was subsequently occupied by RSF elements, forcing him and his family to flee to Egypt by land.
However, by May of the following year, with dwindling funds and no source of income in Egypt, he embarked on a painful reverse journey back to Sudan, leaving behind his mother, sister, and younger brother in Cairo.
Returning to Dongola, Mustafa now works nights in a local eatery and drives an auto rickshaw “tuk-tuk” during the day, sending whatever he earns to cover the rent for his family’s apartment in Cairo. Desperate for additional income, he is on the hunt for a third job. “But if I can’t make it work, my family will have no choice but to join me here,” he confides.
Sudanese refugees forcibly returned from Egypt have been seen arriving in Wadi Halfa, where they are crammed into hotels and guesthouses in the Northern State
Meanwhile, Sudanese refugees forcibly returned from Egypt have been seen arriving in Wadi Halfa, where they are crammed into hotels and guesthouses in the Northern State. Many are sleeping on the streets and in mosques, grappling with severe water shortages, power outages, and the complete absence of local authorities and state government.
In a report dated June 19, 2024, Amnesty International accused the Egyptian authorities of forcibly repatriating Sudanese refugees, coinciding with viral footage on social media showing organised deportations of Sudanese refugees in Egypt. The organisation condemned these actions as violations of international law, citing that the Egyptian authorities “arrested Sudanese refugees en masse and forcibly deported them to Sudan.” According to Amnesty’s count, 3,000 Sudanese were deported from Egypt in September alone. In contrast, Cairo has defended its actions, claiming that only those who committed crimes or violated the country’s laws were deported.
Samir, a forcibly returned refugee, recounted his harrowing ordeal alongside his family of seven. They were detained and imprisoned by Egyptian authorities, who he describes as devoid of any sense of humanity. He detailed the inhumane treatment, saying that the forced return to Sudan was carried out with profound humiliation and degradation.
Samir shared with Atar the story of his displacement from Khartoum to Al-Jazira State and their subsequent grueling journey to Egypt by land, relying on smugglers.
“After the RSF overran Al-Jazira and stormed the village where we had taken refuge from Khartoum, terrorising the people and looting everything, we fled to Kassala, then to Atbara, and finally made the exhausting seven-day journey to Egypt through the cold and hunger,” he recounted.
Upon reaching Aswan and arriving at the first Egyptian checkpoint, they requested asylum procedures and to meet with UNHCR officials.
“Instead, we were imprisoned in a five-by-five-metre cell, crammed with other migrants, some of whom had been there for over a month without legal representation. The cell lacked proper ventilation and lighting, had no clean water, and we were only given one meal a day,” Samir told Atar.
Samir observed that most of the detainees in Egyptian prisons were young men born between 2000 and 2007, with a few from 1995, and two elderly women in their seventies accompanied by their granddaughters. The women were handcuffed, adding to the indignity.
After interrogations, the detainees were forced to sign papers they were not allowed to read, then handcuffed and transferred to Abu Simbel Prison, “where we were subjected to the worst treatment. Beatings, insults, and five daily headcounts in the prison, with the threat of having dissenters’ charges upgraded to human trafficking.”
Torn between the despair of foreign lands, where survival is fraught with indignity, and the shattered remnants of their homeland, they navigate a perilous journey of return. Their odyssey, steeped in resilience and sorrow, paints a poignant portrait of a people trapped in the twilight of conflict, where refuge remains a distant, elusive dream.
