The world is not moving fast enough to help Sudan. To raise awareness, Fatma Naib has penned a four-part series on her experiences in Sudan and with its people. In part one, she explains her journey from journalism to advocacy.
Sudan is a nation in deep crisis. In 2022, more than 5.8 million children were out of school. Today, as civil war rages across the country, that number has jumped to 19 million. Imagine, 19 million children are now denied the right to an education.
Additionally, 7.3 million people have been forced from their homes, in the largest displacement of people worldwide.
Many people are in need of assistance. But according to the United Nations, insecurity, looting, poor phone connectivity, lack of cash and limited technical and humanitarian staff are affecting the delivery of humanitarian aid in many parts of the country.
The world is not moving fast enough to help Sudan or its children. In an effort to raise awareness about the country’s plight, Fatma Naib has penned a four-part series on her experiences with Sudan and its people, as a journalist, a former UN employee and a friend. In this first part, she explains her journey from journalism to advocacy in Khartoum.
Over the past 15 years, I have visited Sudan many times on work trips and personal trips. One memorable time was in 2015 when I went as a journalist to cover the general elections.
It was a tumultuous time. Omar al-Bashir was re-elected with 94.5 percent of the vote, but the elections had been boycotted by major opposition parties.
As I was leaving the country after the elections, the government’s foreign media representatives said, “Thank you for the coverage, but you may experience some difficulties getting your visa next time because we were not fully happy with your coverage.”
Still, three years later, I returned on a very warm and sunny day, this time with my husband and five-year-old daughter. We were embarking on a new adventure as I began a position with the United Nations, and Khartoum was going to be our home for the next few years.
Walking out of passport control, we were greeted by a sign that read “Welcome to Khartoum.”
Living in Sudan, I felt a deep connection to the people and the place, even though I was not from there. Anyone who has ever lived in the country will say the same thing – the bond and connections you establish with the people there are strong and life-lasting.
Journalist days
I vividly recall my early days as a journalist, covering the elections and referendum from 2010 to 2015. The outcomes were always predictable, but there was still a feeling of uncertainty. Voters there expressed hope and a determination for change. That hope, especially held by the youth, became a reality during the revolution that ended al Bashir’s 30-year rule.
But hope for change was short-lived, as a military coup in October 2021 later paved the way for the devastating war in April 2023. This has plunged the country and its people into one of the biggest humanitarian crises in the world, displacing some seven million people.
As the protests erupted across Sudan in 2018-2019, I found myself awed by the heart of this movement, witnessing the power and the will of the people.
The streets of Khartoum and across Sudan transformed into hubs of protest. The energy and determination of the Sudanese people were palpable, their voices echoing through the city, demanding an end to decades of marginalisation.
I was captivated by the creativity of the protests, the slogans painted on the walls, and the memorable chants echoing through the streets. The spirit of the revolution was everywhere, seen in the faces of the people who had endured so much, yet never lost hope.
The transition from journalist to humanitarian worker was not easy. As a journalist, I was used to speaking my mind and holding truth to power.
But during the revolution, I had to be diplomatic, impartial and adhere by the United Nations’ code of conduct as an international civil servant to continue the work we did for the communities we served.
It took some time to find the balance between these two roles. I kept my focus on the why and who – why I was there, and the children whom I was serving. It required a deep understanding of the political landscape, diplomacy, impartiality and full commitment to the role.
The experience has made me a better storyteller with a deeper understanding of the challenges facing Sudan. Living there also allowed me to become a better observer and listener, and forge meaningful connections and friendships.
My Friend Durra
One of these friendships was forged with Durra Gambo, a seasoned journalist and excellent storyteller. Our friendship began in 2007 in Doha, Qatar. We met by chance via a journalist friend who introduced us during a forum. This encounter laid the foundation for a friendship which spanned over a decade, until we found ourselves living in the same city, her city of Khartoum.
Gambo is a fearless Sudanese journalist with a deep understanding of Sudanese politics and society. She opened so many doors for me in Sudan and helped me to see the country through a different lens.
Foreign journalists often get all the credit for the stories they work on, but not enough credit is given to the local journalists they work with. Gambo and I worked together on various stories during the elections and referendum. I will never forget the start of the Arab Spring, when Ben Ali left Tunisia in 2011 following weeks of protest in the country.
I was in Sudan covering the referendum, as was most of the world’s media. I recall the moment Gambo came in and shouted “Ben Ali fled Tunisia! This is historic!”
And indeed, it was history in the making. Little did I know that many years later, we would witness a revolution in Sudan together. But this time I would not be a journalist. I would be living it, not covering it.
Explaining to a child why there are military tanks, RPGs and armed soldiers everywhere was not easy. We became accustomed to it after a while. But looking back at it now, there is nothing normal about seeing military tanks with their guns pointing at people in the street.
The revolution began only a few months after I moved to Sudan, as I was settling into my new role. The capital city for many months transformed and became heavily militarised, which was a very unsettling sight for my five-year-old daughter.
Explaining to a child why there are military tanks, RPGs and armed soldiers everywhere was not easy. We became accustomed to it after a while. But looking back at it now, there is nothing normal about seeing military tanks with their guns pointing at people in the street.
Although these were uncertain times, we carried on. As a humanitarian the work does not stop, you continue to work on the ground leaving no one behind.
During that time, my friendship with Gambo helped me garner a deeper understanding of Sudanese politics and society, allowing me to see the country through her lens – a lens that went beyond the news headlines.
Gambo’s insights were invaluable as I navigated the complexities of Sudan’s political landscape. She helped me understand the nuances of Sudanese society, the deep-rooted traditions and the tensions that often bubbled beneath the surface.
Her stories about Syrian refugees in Sudan, aspiring Sudanese female footballers, boycotting voters and election hopes painted a portrait of a people grappling with their past while striving for a future.
I left Sudan with a heavy heart in the spring of 2022 after I concluded my tenure at the UN to be back with my family in Sweden. What happened in the country, especially the capital which I loved and called home for almost four years, is something I still grapple with.
Seeing how my friend was struggling for survival and safety was difficult. This was not just unique to Gambo; all of my friends and colleagues were internally and externally displaced and lost everything overnight.
Gambo too after being trapped in the capital but continuing to report on what was happening in international media was admirable to me. I would speak to her to check in, and in the background, I would hear the bombings.
She would tell me, “Do you hear this Fatma? They are bombing around us. We are trapped in the tower. But we have the best view and are able to continue to report.”
The calmness in her voice and the pride in her work is something which is typical to the Sudanese people I encountered through my work and in private. Resilient, strong, hopeful and dignified. It’s a testament to their determination to build a better future for their country and the hope for a better tomorrow.
The international community cannot allow Sudan to be a “forgotten crisis” as many label it. The people, especially the children left behind who are deprived of education, health and protection need us today more than ever.
Like many Sudanese people who had the option, Gambo eventually managed to leave the country. But the vast majority of Sudanese people remain, and they are struggling to navigate the ongoing war and humanitarian crisis.
The international community cannot allow Sudan to be a “forgotten crisis” as many label it. The people, especially the children left behind who are deprived of education, health and protection need us today more than ever.
Fatma Naib is a Peabody Award-winning journalist who has worked for Al Jazeera English. She is also the former UNICEF Sudan chief of communications and is now based in Sweden.
