We need to talk about Sudan
The lack of debate surrounding the war in Sudan suggests that there is little global interest in the atrocities being committed, writes Yassmin Abdel-Magied.
Would people ever one day “always have been against” the war in Sudan?
What does the answer to that question tell us? About Sudan, about the value we place on human life, about ourselves?
El Akkad’s writing, and the writing of many Palestinians and their allies, points to a truth about the war in Palestine that is distinct from the war in Sudan: the battle of narrative.
Part of the red hot anger, the betrayal that many in the West feel, arises from the “derangement” of politicians, leaders and news organisations, who continue to disseminate lies, mistruths and propaganda about the war, despite positioning themselves as paragons of moral virtue and truth.
Sudan’s challenge is different. There is no battle of narrative. There is an utter lack of narrative. People are “already against this”, but it doesn’t seem to matter enough. There is an utter dearth of interest in the deaths of hundreds of thousands of us, the genocide being committed as I type these words, the millions facing acute hunger, and the many millions more displaced.
I am reminded of the death of a marriage. When there is an argument there is the hope for progress, because at least the parties are engaged with each other. When there is silence, when all sides have left the table, then you know the battle is lost.
Sometimes, a dark, shameful part of me wishes there was a battle of narrative I could engage in. Maybe it would mean Sudanese lives mattered enough to fight about.
At this point, I feel I must issue a disclaimer. Our causes are not in competition with each other, and freedom is not a zero-sum game. Talking about Sudan does not – must not – come at the expense of talking about Palestine, and we must also be wary of those using the Sudanese cause to diminish the activism and agitation of Palestinians and their allies.
Perhaps this is one battle of narrative Sudan has unwittingly found itself in, used as a pejorative talking point in the same way those defending Muslim women’s right to wear the hijab are faced with accusations that they “don’t care about the women in Iran”. These are bad faith arguments that are unconcerned with the actual people in question.
So why begin a piece about Sudan by talking about Palestine at all? Partly, I suppose, to start to try to make sense of a phenomenon I struggle with daily. To give those around me the benefit of the doubt; to resist the urge to point the finger and issue simplistic accusations forged in the blaze of desperation after years of being made invisible; to connect our struggles.
After all, there are no two flags as similar and as easily confused as Sudan’s and Palestine’s. We are distorted mirror images of one another, peoples so often frozen by the imaginations – or lack of imaginations – of others, refused the dignity of life as full, human beings who desire little more than peace and our freedom.
I had planned to feature more voices on the ground in this piece, yet the reality of the conflict once again interrupted any neat narrative I had hoped to write. My contacts in El-Fasher, the capital city of North Darfur, found themselves squeezed once again between heavy aerial bombardment by the Sudanese Armed Forces and shelling and drone attacks by the Rapid Support Forces, trapped between an exploding rock and a deadly hard place.
“I’m sorry for my late reply,” came a recent message from one contact. “The local authority keeps shutting down the network.” That was the last I heard from them, my questions languishing in the WhatsApp chat unread, “single ticked”.
Another activist tells me she cannot bring herself to ask her contact to do an interview. She was panicking about feeding herself and not getting killed.
I feel ashamed, like a narrative vulture, picking at my people’s bones.
In Khartoum, my aunt does not reply to questions about how she is doing. In the few moments of snatched connectivity, she forwards jokes and Arabic memes to the group chat. “I don’t want to talk about this stinking war,” she said. “Send photos of your cooking, of pretty hairstyles, of nice things.” Joy, she said. That’s what she wanted. Joy.
I am reminded of the bursts of joy I witnessed in the images of Palestinians returning to northern Gaza. Singing, laughter, jubilation… despite the dehumanising brutality, the Palestinians had what Omar El Akkad described as “the asymmetrical power of joy”.
I think of this as another quality the Sudanese share with Palestinians – the asymmetrical power of joy. Unencumbered by our wrangling on moral positions, uninterested in the limitations of our imaginations. They continue to live. Subhanallah. Glory be to God.
Yassmin Abdel-Magied is a Sudanese-Australian author and social justice advocate. She is a regular columnist for The New Arab.
Follow her on Twitter: @yassmin_a
This article was first published by Index on Censorship on 10 April 2025. It appeared in Volume 54, Issue 1 of Index on Censorship's print magazine, titled: The forgotten patients: Lost voices in the global healthcare system. Read more about the issue here.
Opinions expressed in this article remain those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of The New Arab, its editorial board or staff.
The lack of debate surrounding the war in Sudan suggests that there is little global interest in the atrocities being committed, writes Yassmin Abdel-Magied.
Opinion
Yassmin Abdel-Magied
11 Apr, 2025
Yassmin Abdel-Magied
11 Apr, 2025
THE NEW ARAB
For nearly two years, Sudan has been ravaged by a war between the regular army and the RSF, a conflict that has killed tens of thousands of people, uprooted over 12 million more and created the world's largest hunger and displacement crises. [GETTY]
I recently attended an interview with the Egyptian-Canadian writer and journalist Omar El Akkad ahead of the publication of his book, One Day Everyone Will Have Always Been Against This.
The book was born from a viral tweet sent shortly after bombardment began in Gaza in October 2023. El Akkad wrote: “One day, when it’s safe, when there’s no personal downside to calling a thing what it is, when it’s too late to hold anyone accountable, everyone will have always been against this.” The post was viewed more than 10 million times.
More than 150 people warmed the room on a cold London night to hear him speak. By the time I reached the front of the signing line, all copies of his book had sold out. Alhamdulillah (praise be to God), I thought, agreeing with his publisher’s comments that this was a vital message, a critical meditation, the needed challenge for Western readers to grapple with their nations’ complicity in what has been termed the “first live-streamed genocide”.
Yet, despite the sharp clarity of El Akkad’s words, the truth of his analysis and the profound power of his critique, I was unable to remain entirely present during the discourse. Alongside my complete and lifelong solidarity with the Palestinian people, the feeling that kept interrupting was one I did not want to engage with, one I had no sense of how to acknowledge.
For nearly two years, Sudan has been ravaged by a war between the regular army and the RSF, a conflict that has killed tens of thousands of people, uprooted over 12 million more and created the world's largest hunger and displacement crises. [GETTY]
I recently attended an interview with the Egyptian-Canadian writer and journalist Omar El Akkad ahead of the publication of his book, One Day Everyone Will Have Always Been Against This.
The book was born from a viral tweet sent shortly after bombardment began in Gaza in October 2023. El Akkad wrote: “One day, when it’s safe, when there’s no personal downside to calling a thing what it is, when it’s too late to hold anyone accountable, everyone will have always been against this.” The post was viewed more than 10 million times.
More than 150 people warmed the room on a cold London night to hear him speak. By the time I reached the front of the signing line, all copies of his book had sold out. Alhamdulillah (praise be to God), I thought, agreeing with his publisher’s comments that this was a vital message, a critical meditation, the needed challenge for Western readers to grapple with their nations’ complicity in what has been termed the “first live-streamed genocide”.
Yet, despite the sharp clarity of El Akkad’s words, the truth of his analysis and the profound power of his critique, I was unable to remain entirely present during the discourse. Alongside my complete and lifelong solidarity with the Palestinian people, the feeling that kept interrupting was one I did not want to engage with, one I had no sense of how to acknowledge.
RelatedYassmin Abdel-Magied
Would people ever one day “always have been against” the war in Sudan?
What does the answer to that question tell us? About Sudan, about the value we place on human life, about ourselves?
El Akkad’s writing, and the writing of many Palestinians and their allies, points to a truth about the war in Palestine that is distinct from the war in Sudan: the battle of narrative.
Part of the red hot anger, the betrayal that many in the West feel, arises from the “derangement” of politicians, leaders and news organisations, who continue to disseminate lies, mistruths and propaganda about the war, despite positioning themselves as paragons of moral virtue and truth.
Sudan’s challenge is different. There is no battle of narrative. There is an utter lack of narrative. People are “already against this”, but it doesn’t seem to matter enough. There is an utter dearth of interest in the deaths of hundreds of thousands of us, the genocide being committed as I type these words, the millions facing acute hunger, and the many millions more displaced.
I am reminded of the death of a marriage. When there is an argument there is the hope for progress, because at least the parties are engaged with each other. When there is silence, when all sides have left the table, then you know the battle is lost.
Sometimes, a dark, shameful part of me wishes there was a battle of narrative I could engage in. Maybe it would mean Sudanese lives mattered enough to fight about.
At this point, I feel I must issue a disclaimer. Our causes are not in competition with each other, and freedom is not a zero-sum game. Talking about Sudan does not – must not – come at the expense of talking about Palestine, and we must also be wary of those using the Sudanese cause to diminish the activism and agitation of Palestinians and their allies.
Perhaps this is one battle of narrative Sudan has unwittingly found itself in, used as a pejorative talking point in the same way those defending Muslim women’s right to wear the hijab are faced with accusations that they “don’t care about the women in Iran”. These are bad faith arguments that are unconcerned with the actual people in question.
So why begin a piece about Sudan by talking about Palestine at all? Partly, I suppose, to start to try to make sense of a phenomenon I struggle with daily. To give those around me the benefit of the doubt; to resist the urge to point the finger and issue simplistic accusations forged in the blaze of desperation after years of being made invisible; to connect our struggles.
After all, there are no two flags as similar and as easily confused as Sudan’s and Palestine’s. We are distorted mirror images of one another, peoples so often frozen by the imaginations – or lack of imaginations – of others, refused the dignity of life as full, human beings who desire little more than peace and our freedom.
I had planned to feature more voices on the ground in this piece, yet the reality of the conflict once again interrupted any neat narrative I had hoped to write. My contacts in El-Fasher, the capital city of North Darfur, found themselves squeezed once again between heavy aerial bombardment by the Sudanese Armed Forces and shelling and drone attacks by the Rapid Support Forces, trapped between an exploding rock and a deadly hard place.
“I’m sorry for my late reply,” came a recent message from one contact. “The local authority keeps shutting down the network.” That was the last I heard from them, my questions languishing in the WhatsApp chat unread, “single ticked”.
Another activist tells me she cannot bring herself to ask her contact to do an interview. She was panicking about feeding herself and not getting killed.
I feel ashamed, like a narrative vulture, picking at my people’s bones.
In Khartoum, my aunt does not reply to questions about how she is doing. In the few moments of snatched connectivity, she forwards jokes and Arabic memes to the group chat. “I don’t want to talk about this stinking war,” she said. “Send photos of your cooking, of pretty hairstyles, of nice things.” Joy, she said. That’s what she wanted. Joy.
I am reminded of the bursts of joy I witnessed in the images of Palestinians returning to northern Gaza. Singing, laughter, jubilation… despite the dehumanising brutality, the Palestinians had what Omar El Akkad described as “the asymmetrical power of joy”.
I think of this as another quality the Sudanese share with Palestinians – the asymmetrical power of joy. Unencumbered by our wrangling on moral positions, uninterested in the limitations of our imaginations. They continue to live. Subhanallah. Glory be to God.
Yassmin Abdel-Magied is a Sudanese-Australian author and social justice advocate. She is a regular columnist for The New Arab.
Follow her on Twitter: @yassmin_a
This article was first published by Index on Censorship on 10 April 2025. It appeared in Volume 54, Issue 1 of Index on Censorship's print magazine, titled: The forgotten patients: Lost voices in the global healthcare system. Read more about the issue here.
Opinions expressed in this article remain those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of The New Arab, its editorial board or staff.
April 12, 2025
MEMO
A view of destruction in a livestock market area in al-Fasher, the capital of Sudan’s North Darfur state on 1 September, 2023 [AFP via Getty Images]
The Sudanese army confirmed on Saturday that the death toll from the ongoing attack by the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) on the Zamzam refugee camp in El Fasher, the capital of Darfur, rose to 74, up from 25 reported the previous day, Anadolu Agency reports.
The RSF’s assault on the camp entered its second day, with reports of continued fighting and attacks, according to local sources.
The Sudanese army stated that the camp was attacked twice on Friday. The first attack, from the western side of the camp, was repelled by the army and supporting forces. The second attack, however, resulted in the RSF setting fire to several homes and killing civilians within the camp.
The army confirmed that 74 people had been killed and 17 others wounded as a result of the RSF’s assault.
The Sudanese government also issued a statement “condemning the attack which targeted innocent civilians.”
In a separate statement, the General Coordination of Displaced Persons and Refugees in Darfur, a civilian group, expressed grave concern, reporting that another attack had occurred on Saturday morning.
READ: Sudan tells World Court UAE fuels Darfur genocide
The organization described the situation as “extremely critical” for the displaced and innocent civilians in the region.
Local resistance committees in El Fasher also reported on Saturday that the RSF had launched a renewed attack on the camp, which lasted for more than three hours.
The local committees further stated that many students at a traditional Quranic school, known as Khalwa Sheikh Farah, were killed during the attack, along with medical personnel working in the camp’s hospitals and clinics.
There had been no comment from the RSF regarding the ongoing assault.
Since April 15, 2023, the RSF has been battling the Sudanese army for control of the country, resulting in thousands of deaths and one of the world’s worst humanitarian crises.
More than 20,000 people have been killed and 15 million others displaced, according to the UN and local authorities. Research from US scholars, however, estimates the death toll at around 130,000.
The military reclaimed the capital Khartoum last month, but the civil war still continues.
A view of destruction in a livestock market area in al-Fasher, the capital of Sudan’s North Darfur state on 1 September, 2023 [AFP via Getty Images]
The Sudanese army confirmed on Saturday that the death toll from the ongoing attack by the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) on the Zamzam refugee camp in El Fasher, the capital of Darfur, rose to 74, up from 25 reported the previous day, Anadolu Agency reports.
The RSF’s assault on the camp entered its second day, with reports of continued fighting and attacks, according to local sources.
The Sudanese army stated that the camp was attacked twice on Friday. The first attack, from the western side of the camp, was repelled by the army and supporting forces. The second attack, however, resulted in the RSF setting fire to several homes and killing civilians within the camp.
The army confirmed that 74 people had been killed and 17 others wounded as a result of the RSF’s assault.
The Sudanese government also issued a statement “condemning the attack which targeted innocent civilians.”
In a separate statement, the General Coordination of Displaced Persons and Refugees in Darfur, a civilian group, expressed grave concern, reporting that another attack had occurred on Saturday morning.
READ: Sudan tells World Court UAE fuels Darfur genocide
The organization described the situation as “extremely critical” for the displaced and innocent civilians in the region.
Local resistance committees in El Fasher also reported on Saturday that the RSF had launched a renewed attack on the camp, which lasted for more than three hours.
The local committees further stated that many students at a traditional Quranic school, known as Khalwa Sheikh Farah, were killed during the attack, along with medical personnel working in the camp’s hospitals and clinics.
There had been no comment from the RSF regarding the ongoing assault.
Since April 15, 2023, the RSF has been battling the Sudanese army for control of the country, resulting in thousands of deaths and one of the world’s worst humanitarian crises.
More than 20,000 people have been killed and 15 million others displaced, according to the UN and local authorities. Research from US scholars, however, estimates the death toll at around 130,000.
The military reclaimed the capital Khartoum last month, but the civil war still continues.
Khartoum has been retaken, but Sudan's war is far from over
Analysis: The army's recapture of Khartoum marks the end of one chapter in the war, but the next phase could see protracted conflict in the west of Sudan.
Analysis
Elfadil Ibrahim
07 April, 2025
THE NEW ARAB
The Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) may have retaken Khartoum, but the cheers echoing through the capital’s ravaged streets mask a grim reality: Sudan's civil war is far from over.
Nearly two years after the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) dramatically seized control of Khartoum and much of Sudan, their fighters have been pushed out of the capital's core. General Abdel Fattah al-Burhan, Sudan's de facto president and army chief, toured the reclaimed presidential palace, declaring Khartoum as "free".
For residents who endured months of terror, looting, and siege under RSF occupation, the shift brings a palpable sense of relief, albeit one tempered by profound loss and uncertainty.
Related
Massacres, rape, plunder: The RSF's spiral of violence in Sudan
Sudan
Alessandra Bajec
"It's... like the air itself has changed," Arwa, a 24-year-old woman from Khartoum's northern suburbs, told The New Arab. "For the first time in what feels like a lifetime, there was a real Eid feeling. Seeing neighbours smile, hearing the prayers without being afraid."
This fragile return to a semblance of normalcy is visible on the ground. "People are actually sweeping the streets, trying to bring back some sense of normalcy," Arwa added. "It's small, but it means everything. We finally feel like we belong here again, not like hostages in our own homes."
But Khartoum is a ghost of its former self. The RSF's occupation was marked not by governance, but by a systematic stripping of the city's assets and terrorising of its inhabitants.
Videos emerging after the SAF's advance reveal the horrifying extent of the destruction: iconic buildings are burned-out shells, once bustling streets are now littered with destroyed cars, and Sudan’s National Museum stands tragically empty, looted of priceless artefacts spanning millennia of history.
However, the RSF, though pushed from the capital's centre, insists this is merely a tactical shift.
"This is a rearrangement of cards," Azzam Abdalla, a widely followed commentator on Sudanese politics, explained to The New Arab. He argues that the RSF remains a potent force, still present in Omdurman (part of Greater Khartoum) and capable of striking back. "The RSF, at any moment, could return."
Indeed, the RSF’s deputy commander, Abdel Rahim Hamdan Daglo, recently issued defiant threats from Darfur, boasting of new recruits and vowing to invade Sudan’s Northern and River Nile states, claiming "now the battle is in the North".
This rhetoric follows the RSF's capture of al-Maliha in North Darfur, near the border with the Northern State, signalling their intent to continue the fight, likely supplied via porous borders with backing from the United Arab Emirates (UAE).
Mohanad El Balal, a political observer and co-founder of the Khartoum Aid Kitchen, offers a sobering assessment of the military landscape.
For residents who endured months of terror, looting, and siege under RSF occupation, the shift brings a palpable sense of relief, albeit one tempered by profound loss and uncertainty. [Getty]
"The war that has been fought over the past 2 years... was a war for control of the Sudanese State," he told The New Arab. While the RSF is "on the verge of resoundingly losing" that specific war, El Balal believes a total military defeat remains unlikely.
"The army will find it very difficult to cut off the UAE’s arms supply lines," he noted, adding that the dynamics shift dramatically as the conflict moves west. In Khartoum and central Sudan, the SAF benefited from overwhelming local support against an RSF viewed as occupiers.
"In Western Sudan," El Balal explained, "the army does not have overwhelming support... when the war eventually reaches RSF strongholds like East Darfur it will no longer be a war to liberate but a war to pacify; this makes it an uphill struggle for the army."
The question now is whether the SAF, under al-Burhan, will consolidate its gains or push westward into the RSF’s heartland in Darfur - a region where al-Burhan himself was bogged down as a commander during the earlier Darfur conflict in the 2000s. This decision is fraught with risk, not least because the coalition that propelled the SAF's recent victories is eclectic and fragile.
This alliance includes not only traditional military units but also citizen volunteers (known as ‘Mustanfireen’), Darfuri rebel movements who sided with the SAF after their constituents suffered atrocities at the hands of the RSF, and controversial Islamist brigades linked to the ousted regime of Omar al-Bashir.
Reports emerged late last year of Darfuri movements like JEM (led by Finance Minister Gibril Ibrahim) and SLM-MM (led by Minni Minawi) demanding significant political concessions and military hardware from al-Burhan in return for their continued support, demands al-Burhan reportedly ignored.
More recently, al-Burhan publicly pushed back against Islamist figures attempting to claim credit for SAF victories, pointedly stating in November, "The army does not belong to any individual... This is Sudan’s army".
Yet, al-Burhan also needs these allies. In February, facing criticism from Islamists, he appeared to backtrack, promising that all who fought alongside the army, including the controversial Popular Resistance militias, "will be a partner in everything" politically moving forward.
Related
Sudan's war has become a battleground for regional ambitions
Sudan
Mohamed Mostafa
Azzam Abdalla views al-Burhan's position as perilous. "Al-Burhan is dancing on the heads of snakes," he told The New Arab, highlighting the deep mistrust between factions. He anticipates potential future conflict within the SAF's camp, particularly between al-Burhan (potentially backed by some movements and international actors wary of Islamists) and the Islamist factions who see the war as an existential battle to regain influence.
"This is an existential battle for the Kaizan [Islamists linked to the ousted regime of Omar al-Bashir]. And the Kaizan have paid blood for it. They won't let it go," Abdalla warned.
The presence of newly armed civilian groups, the Mustanfirin (mobilised popular fighters), adds another layer of danger. While currently allied with the SAF, their future integration or disarmament poses a significant challenge.
"These are people who entered combat, fought, and learned how to carry weapons," Azzam noted. "Any situation with instability, these people will pick up weapons... Carrying weapons itself, after a while, becomes a source of livelihood." Reports of score-settling and extrajudicial killings in SAF-controlled areas highlight this risk.
In an attempt to consolidate power and manage these pressures, al-Burhan recently oversaw amendments to the Transitional Constitutional Declaration, granting himself broader powers, including appointing and dismissing the Prime Minister, and expanding the Sovereign Council. He has signalled intentions to form a technocratic government, potentially sidelining established political forces in order to appease his military allies.
While al-Burhan works to stabilise governance and Khartoum's residents see a flicker of hope, the broader humanitarian situation remains catastrophic. Sudan faces the world's largest displacement crisis, and famine looms large, particularly in Darfur, where the RSF continues its campaign of ethnic violence and siege, notably around El Fasher.
Even in SAF-controlled areas, life is crushingly difficult. A leaked 2025 budget reportedly allocates a staggering 90% of spending to the military, leaving critical health and education services starved of funds. Crushing taxes and customs duties are imposed on basic goods to fund the war effort, while access to cash remains severely restricted.
"The war that has been fought over the past 2 years... was a war for control of the Sudanese State," he told The New Arab. While the RSF is "on the verge of resoundingly losing" that specific war, El Balal believes a total military defeat remains unlikely.
"The army will find it very difficult to cut off the UAE’s arms supply lines," he noted, adding that the dynamics shift dramatically as the conflict moves west. In Khartoum and central Sudan, the SAF benefited from overwhelming local support against an RSF viewed as occupiers.
"In Western Sudan," El Balal explained, "the army does not have overwhelming support... when the war eventually reaches RSF strongholds like East Darfur it will no longer be a war to liberate but a war to pacify; this makes it an uphill struggle for the army."
The question now is whether the SAF, under al-Burhan, will consolidate its gains or push westward into the RSF’s heartland in Darfur - a region where al-Burhan himself was bogged down as a commander during the earlier Darfur conflict in the 2000s. This decision is fraught with risk, not least because the coalition that propelled the SAF's recent victories is eclectic and fragile.
This alliance includes not only traditional military units but also citizen volunteers (known as ‘Mustanfireen’), Darfuri rebel movements who sided with the SAF after their constituents suffered atrocities at the hands of the RSF, and controversial Islamist brigades linked to the ousted regime of Omar al-Bashir.
Reports emerged late last year of Darfuri movements like JEM (led by Finance Minister Gibril Ibrahim) and SLM-MM (led by Minni Minawi) demanding significant political concessions and military hardware from al-Burhan in return for their continued support, demands al-Burhan reportedly ignored.
More recently, al-Burhan publicly pushed back against Islamist figures attempting to claim credit for SAF victories, pointedly stating in November, "The army does not belong to any individual... This is Sudan’s army".
Yet, al-Burhan also needs these allies. In February, facing criticism from Islamists, he appeared to backtrack, promising that all who fought alongside the army, including the controversial Popular Resistance militias, "will be a partner in everything" politically moving forward.
Related
Sudan's war has become a battleground for regional ambitions
Sudan
Mohamed Mostafa
Azzam Abdalla views al-Burhan's position as perilous. "Al-Burhan is dancing on the heads of snakes," he told The New Arab, highlighting the deep mistrust between factions. He anticipates potential future conflict within the SAF's camp, particularly between al-Burhan (potentially backed by some movements and international actors wary of Islamists) and the Islamist factions who see the war as an existential battle to regain influence.
"This is an existential battle for the Kaizan [Islamists linked to the ousted regime of Omar al-Bashir]. And the Kaizan have paid blood for it. They won't let it go," Abdalla warned.
The presence of newly armed civilian groups, the Mustanfirin (mobilised popular fighters), adds another layer of danger. While currently allied with the SAF, their future integration or disarmament poses a significant challenge.
"These are people who entered combat, fought, and learned how to carry weapons," Azzam noted. "Any situation with instability, these people will pick up weapons... Carrying weapons itself, after a while, becomes a source of livelihood." Reports of score-settling and extrajudicial killings in SAF-controlled areas highlight this risk.
In an attempt to consolidate power and manage these pressures, al-Burhan recently oversaw amendments to the Transitional Constitutional Declaration, granting himself broader powers, including appointing and dismissing the Prime Minister, and expanding the Sovereign Council. He has signalled intentions to form a technocratic government, potentially sidelining established political forces in order to appease his military allies.
While al-Burhan works to stabilise governance and Khartoum's residents see a flicker of hope, the broader humanitarian situation remains catastrophic. Sudan faces the world's largest displacement crisis, and famine looms large, particularly in Darfur, where the RSF continues its campaign of ethnic violence and siege, notably around El Fasher.
Even in SAF-controlled areas, life is crushingly difficult. A leaked 2025 budget reportedly allocates a staggering 90% of spending to the military, leaving critical health and education services starved of funds. Crushing taxes and customs duties are imposed on basic goods to fund the war effort, while access to cash remains severely restricted.
The question now is whether Sudan's army will consolidate its gains or push westward into the RSF’s heartland in Darfur. [Getty]
For aid organisations like the Khartoum Aid Kitchen, the SAF's return to the capital doesn't mean the strain will be reduced; instead, it brings new challenges.
"We don’t anticipate any immediate reduction in pressure," Mohanad El Balal explained. "In fact... we widened our footprint to reach areas that previously we were unable to operate... So there will be an increase in pressure on our organisation but this is only because for the first time we will be able to reach virtually the entirety of Khartoum State."
Despite the shifting military tide, prospects for a negotiated peace look dimmer than ever. Both sides have doubled down on a military solution. In his recent Eid al-Fitr address, al-Burhan was unequivocal.
"No retreat, no bargaining, and no negotiation with the Rapid Support Forces... we will not forgive, we will not compromise," he said, offering amnesty only to those who lay down their arms. Hemedti, the RSF leader, echoed this sentiment, reportedly stating, "No negotiation or agreement with the army, the war is in its beginning".
For civilians like Arwa, the relief in Khartoum is overshadowed by the national tragedy. "The nightmare is over here in Khartoum. But what does it mean for Sudan?" she asks. "Two years of our youth have just gone. When will we get a chance to rebuild?"
As the SAF consolidates control over the Nile Valley and contemplates its next move, Sudan stands at a critical juncture. The fall of Khartoum is not the end of the war, but perhaps, as Hemedti hinted, just the end of its first chapter.
The next phase threatens protracted conflict in the country’s west, simmering instability within the victors' coalition, and continued suffering for millions of Sudanese caught in the crossfire, their hopes for peace and rebuilding deferred yet again.
Elfadil Ibrahim is a writer and analyst focused on Sudanese politics
For aid organisations like the Khartoum Aid Kitchen, the SAF's return to the capital doesn't mean the strain will be reduced; instead, it brings new challenges.
"We don’t anticipate any immediate reduction in pressure," Mohanad El Balal explained. "In fact... we widened our footprint to reach areas that previously we were unable to operate... So there will be an increase in pressure on our organisation but this is only because for the first time we will be able to reach virtually the entirety of Khartoum State."
Despite the shifting military tide, prospects for a negotiated peace look dimmer than ever. Both sides have doubled down on a military solution. In his recent Eid al-Fitr address, al-Burhan was unequivocal.
"No retreat, no bargaining, and no negotiation with the Rapid Support Forces... we will not forgive, we will not compromise," he said, offering amnesty only to those who lay down their arms. Hemedti, the RSF leader, echoed this sentiment, reportedly stating, "No negotiation or agreement with the army, the war is in its beginning".
For civilians like Arwa, the relief in Khartoum is overshadowed by the national tragedy. "The nightmare is over here in Khartoum. But what does it mean for Sudan?" she asks. "Two years of our youth have just gone. When will we get a chance to rebuild?"
As the SAF consolidates control over the Nile Valley and contemplates its next move, Sudan stands at a critical juncture. The fall of Khartoum is not the end of the war, but perhaps, as Hemedti hinted, just the end of its first chapter.
The next phase threatens protracted conflict in the country’s west, simmering instability within the victors' coalition, and continued suffering for millions of Sudanese caught in the crossfire, their hopes for peace and rebuilding deferred yet again.
Elfadil Ibrahim is a writer and analyst focused on Sudanese politics
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