As a journalist, I’m not supposed to cry when I report stories, but I’ve been crying a lot lately.
Before December, when I traveled on a reporting trip from my home in the Sudanese city of Omdurman – just across the street from the capital Khartoum – all I saw from my window were those carrying the bodies of loved ones on their shoulders.
They looked for a place on the side of the road to bury the bodies because going to a proper cemetery was too dangerous.
The dead civilians, many killed by bullets and grenades, were the collateral damage of a war that began exactly a year ago when Sudan’s two top militaries staged a coup over the country’s political future after jointly seizing power in 2021 argued.
I have lost many friends and acquaintances.
The hustle and bustle of my cramped working-class neighborhood was replaced by silence, sometimes punctuated by the sound of a military plane announcing an airstrike if the army would attack an area controlled by fighters from the rival Rapid Support Forces (RSF) paramilitary group.
People would flee their homes for fear of being hit.
I remember that on April 15 last year, I was looking forward to breaking the Ramadan fast in the evening with some journalist colleagues. I planned to reunite with a long-lost childhood friend later.
We never met and I haven’t seen him to this day. He left the country while I stayed.
That morning I began to feel uneasy when I saw posts on social media about RSF attacks near the city. Then I read about clashes at the international airport. I still thought the violence would stop.
But when a third friend posted that there was fighting in the presidential palace, I knew it was war.
While many others decided to leave the city, my family and I stayed there. We hoped that the war would end soon and believed that the international community might intervene to stop this madness, but the suffering of the Sudanese people seemed to be ignored.
Residents were afraid not only of the street fighting, but also of the armed men from both sides who came to loot. They looted houses and took everything from cars to spoons.
I was back in Omdurman but couldn’t reach my home. I have received reports that even the doors and windows were taken down and carried away.
As the conflict continued, people began to look thinner and paler due to shortages of food and drink and little relief supplies reaching the city. The only small market in my neighborhood was hit by airstrikes as the army tried to drive out the RSF.
In the remaining hospitals, only war-wounded people were treated; people with other illnesses were not treated. My diabetic grandmother died because she couldn’t get treatment.
I also became very sick due to the lack of food.
The only functioning clinic was a 30 minute walk away.
My cousin accompanied me and I had to stop in the shade every two minutes because my strength was exhausted.
The only doctor on duty prescribed me medication, which I was able to get my hands on thanks to friends in Europe.
While things are going badly in Omdurman and Khartoum, the worst affected is the western region of Darfur, where the conflict has taken on an ethnic dimension.
I came here just over three months ago to report on what was happening after last year’s mass killings in towns like Geneina, the capital of West Darfur state.
According to the United Nations, more than 10,000 people died in two massacres in the city.
People have told me about ethnically targeted killings and sexual violence. They remain traumatized months later.
Everyone cries when I ask them about their experiences. I also couldn’t hold back the tears and had difficulty sleeping.
On a trip to Fasher, the capital of North Darfur, my nights were also disrupted when airstrikes hit the town at night, shaking everything and waking everyone up.
I’ve tried to tell our story, but I feel like the world is looking the other way. International attention is focused on Gaza and, before that, Ukraine.
I’m sad and angry.
The international community must intervene to stop this war by putting pressure on both sides and their regional supporters. Without pressure I can’t see the end.
It is heartbreaking to see my country falling apart, and there is a risk that it will become even worse as ordinary people are armed by both sides.