Displacement is tough, but friendly policies and an adaptable mindset have helped Sudanese refugees to rebuild

I fell asleep after a long Ramadan night in 2023. A few hours earlier, I’d broken my fast with my girlfriend, who would later become my wife, at a restaurant in Khartoum, the capital of Sudan. We had then headed to Nile Street, which runs along the Blue Nile, to sit with others in an open-air cafe. A common Sudanese phenomenon during Ramadan, the women running the café had arranged plastic chairs in a circle and were serving tea and coffee from the centre.

We chatted about love and politics – political discussions run like blood through the veins of ordinary life in Sudan, especially after the December 2018 revolution. The revolution had given us a reason to believe that political change was on its way, especially since it resulted in the formation of a civilian government. We felt immense hope, yet also frustration at the significant challenges facing the movement. We knew that many, especially those in the former Islamic regime, were waiting for a chance to strike back.

That Ramadan night, we were particularly worried about the potential outbreak of war between the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF). Yet we clung to the hope of a political miracle. At the end of the night, my girlfriend and I went our separate ways. We woke up the next morning to the sounds of explosions and warplanes.

The war we feared had started.

Uprooted

That day was heavy and long. Shells fell nearby and RSF personnel and vehicles patrolled the streets of my neighbourhood, which bordered the General Command of the Armed Forces, the RSF command and Khartoum International Airport. I stayed at home for five days amidst fear and tension, hoping for a ceasefire. But it quickly became clear that there was no end in sight. I decided to leave the area, at that point unsure of my destination.

I walked from the centre of Khartoum to the river port in the south, carrying only a backpack with some clothes and enough funds for a few days. I left all my belongings behind. I arrived on Aba Island in White Nile State, nearly 300km south of Khartoum, where I was hosted by acquaintances. Then and now, over two years into the war, Sudanese families open their homes to host displaced families and individuals from Khartoum, providing much needed shelter and support.

After two days, I realised it would be nearly impossible to safely reach my family in Al-Malha, in northwest Sudan. I decided to travel instead to Uganda via South Sudan. I had no clear plan, other than finding safety and improving my English.

Upon arrival, I contacted some colleagues from an organisation I used to work for, to see if we could resume working together. We decided to work on two tracks: one focusing on anti-war efforts and human rights violations, and another on humanitarian work. The latter track supports local initiatives, some of which have since led to partnerships with national and international organisations.

One flagship initiative is the emergency response room. These are grassroots programmes led by young people at the level of neighbourhoods and villages in different regions of Sudan. They provide humanitarian services, especially to newly displaced people, and in some areas are the primary or only provider of many kinds of support. Emergency response rooms now cover 13 of the 18 states in Sudan, staffed by over 15,000 volunteers.

A civil society in exile

Uganda currently hosts over two million refugees, half of whom are from South Sudan and 100,000 from Sudan. Most of this number crossed the border after the war began to spread and Egypt stopped granting entry visas to Sudanese nationals.

Civil society actors from Sudan are used to working from abroad. The former regime had suspended the activities of some civil society organisations, accusing them of conspiring against the state and arresting many activists. In response, many Sudanese individuals and organisations moved to Kampala, Uganda’s capital, to continue their activism work.

All these economic activities would not have been possible if Uganda didn’t have Sudanese-friendly asylum and migration policies, or if Sudanese society was less able to adapt quickly

Due to the ease of work procedures in Uganda for non-governmental organisations, dozens of Sudanese projects, supported by international organisations, are now active in Kampala. This has created good job opportunities for many Sudanese people.

Uganda offers a visa on entry, especially for Sudanese people arriving via the border with South Sudan. Upon arrival, asylum seekers can register with the UNHCR refugee office and obtain a free refugee card. In some cases, this takes less than a month, but it can take up to two months.

These policies have encouraged substantial migration to Kampala. They have also facilitated the small businesses which have popped up all over Kampala and in refugee camps in Uganda’s northern region. These include groceries, cafes and restaurants, mostly run by women, alongside other businesses such as travel agencies.

Many researchers and journalists also work remotely from Uganda. Several private Sudanese schools and medical clinics have opened in Kampala, providing job opportunities for many teachers and doctors. Dozens of Sudanese university professors have also been appointed to Ugandan universities.

Meanwhile, many Sudanese refugees living in camps make use of small plots of land to grow crops. Some have even expanded their agricultural enterprises by renting agricultural land from residents and employing other Sudanese refugees to increase their yields. Some Sudanese businesses are, by this point, even exporting products like tea and coffee from Uganda to the Gulf countries.

I am convinced that the Sudanese people are capable of making peace and shaping their future

All these economic activities would not have been possible if Uganda didn’t have Sudanese-friendly asylum and migration policies, or if Sudanese society was less able to adapt quickly. But both qualities are there, and this will certainly open new horizons for the Sudanese economy after the war. Those who have worked in the Ugandan market will have learned new skills and developed networks from which they can later benefit. Links have been formed, which may open new integration opportunities for the two nations of Sudan and Uganda in the future.

A rocky road ahead

Not all, of course, are doing well in exile.

The refugee camps in the northern region are suffering from security problems, despite the government's efforts to provide agricultural land to families. Sudanese refugees there have repeatedly suffered hostilities from refugees from other communities. If such attacks continue, they could affect the future stability and work for some displaced Sudanese people.

There is also still a very real humanitarian crisis in Uganda. There has been a scarcity of humanitarian aid, especially after the decline in American support via the cuts to USAID, and for some demographics job opportunities are lacking. Tens of thousands of families are faced with the dilemma of returning to the hell of war in Sudan or suffering through poverty and precarity in Uganda.

But for me, on a personal level, life did not stop with the war. I was able to reunite with my girlfriend – we got married and had a son. I found a job in an international organisation, completed my study of the English language, and made new friends. I still feel anxiety, of course, as well as concern about the future of Sudan. But I am convinced that the Sudanese people are capable of making peace and shaping their future. Change is possible, and peace will come again.