2023-05-08 10:19:54
image source, Mohamed Osman/ BBC
The fighting that has been taking place in Sudan for almost a month forced Mohamed Osman to join the thousands of compatriots who have gone into exile.
BBC Arabic reporter Mohamed Osman has lived in Sudan all his life. When fighting broke out between rival military factions last month, he decided to stay on to report on the conflict. However, as the fighting dragged on and the situation became too dangerous, he changed his mind.
Next, the journalist narrates how he made the difficult decision to leave his homeland and how the dangerous journey by land to Egypt was like.
Plumes of black smoke could be seen in the sky over the capital Khartoum, adding to my impending sense of doom.
Despite the declared ceasefire, areas such as Omdurman and Khartoum Bahri had witnessed intense clashes between the army and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) paramilitary group and both sides were bringing reinforcements.
More worrisome still, the sound of explosions was getting closer and closer to my neighborhood, as were reports of intimidation of civilians by RSF fighters, including reports of car thefts and looting.
All this pushed me to make the decision to leave, which broke my heart.
As a journalist covering the conflict on the ground, conveying what is happening to the world is vital.
But difficulties such as the inability to move, poor internet and communication services, and most importantly, the safety of my family and myself, they made this game inevitable.
image source, Getty Images
Clashes between the Sudanese army and RSF paramilitaries have left hundreds dead and injured, as well as thousands displaced.
The odyssey
Our journey began on April 28. We leave the house at noon, as that is usually the time when the intensity of the fighting dies down a bit.
We joined a group of people on a bus leaving the city of Omdurman (the most populous city in the country and neighboring the capital, Khartoum) headed for the border with Egypt.
But 10 minutes into our trip a fighter plane appeared in the sky, then very close to us, RSF members opened fire on the plane.
Our vehicle was stopped and suddenly surrounded by armed fighters who wanted to know where we had come from and where we were going.
My wife and children were terrified when the fighters they pointed their guns at us.
image source, Getty Images
On his way out of the Sudanese capital, Osman and his family had to go through several security checkpoints set up by the RSF rebels.
After looking inside our bus, the men let us out, only to be detained again by another group of fighters a few minutes later. That time, however, we were quickly checked out.
While crossing the outer districts of Omdurman, we came across streets that were completely empty.
Vehicles belonging to the RSF were scattered, often parked on side streets or under trees to avoid being seen by Sudanese military planes flying overhead.
As we headed west, the paramilitary presence gradually decreased and signs of normal life returned.
Many women-run shops and cafes were not only open, but also busy, and public transport was running, albeit at a slower pace than normal.
image source, Getty Images
In the gasoline stations of the Sudanese capital there are long lines of cars, whose owners wait to fill up the tanks to flee the city.
However, danger loomed in the form of occasional checkpoints and armed gangs. In the absence of security forces, robberies and looting are on the rise.
Fortunately, we were able to avoid these areas thanks to the information we got from my contacts before leaving Omdurman.
no traces of the state
Upon our arrival at the border between Khartoum and the Northern State (bordering with Egypt) we did not find the checkpoints that the Sudanese security forces usually set up.
Instead, there were a large number of private transport vehicles, all full of people heading to northern cities such as Merowe, Dongola and Wadi Halfa.
We wanted to get to Wadi Halfa, which we did after a 24 hour drive. It was an extremely difficult journey over rough roads, during which the wind often blew sand from the desert dunes, obscuring our vision.
image source, Mohamed Osman/ BBC
The BBC journalist saw, throughout his journey to Egypt, how compatriots had to sleep on the streets of the cities where they took refuge due to the lack of shelters.
In the evening, we stop at a cafe in the city of Dongola and we rent beds to sleep outdoorswithout blankets to protect us from the cold of the night.
In the city of Wadi Halfa, we witnessed chaotic scenes as thousands of families face a lack of hotels and shelters to accommodate the large number of people fleeing violence in Khartoum.
Women and children have to sleep in public squares and on school grounds.
A 50-year-old woman told me that she had been suffering in these miserable conditions for four days, without enough food or water, enduring the scorching heat of the sun during the day and bitter cold at night. She was waiting for a visa for her son, which will take them to Egypt.
At the border, I met not only Sudanese but also people from countries like India, Yemen, Syria, Senegal and Somalia.
They were mostly students from the International University of Africa, located in Khartoum. One of them, a young Ghanaian, told me that he wanted to leave by any means after living through “very difficult times” in Khartoum amid shelling and explosions.
image source, Getty Images
The inhabitants of Wadi Halfa have decided to offer food, drink and shelter to the thousands of displaced people fleeing the violence.
Solidarity on the surface
A moment of light among so much darkness was the kindness of the inhabitants of the area.
Many residents of Wadi Halfa and areas along the northern land route that extends to the Sudan-Egypt border have open their homes to people fleeing.
Locals have been sharing food and water with the new arrivals without asking for money in return.
Baderi Hassan, who owns a large house in Wadi Halfa, told me that he had been hosting dozens of refugees.
image source, Getty Images
Thousands of people are in the border town of Wadi Halfa, waiting to cross into Egypt.
“We feel responsible for these people. The authorities here have nothing to offer the displaced and they are in terrible conditions,” he said.
The situation at the border crossing was chaotic. Dozens of buses and private cars were stuck. The staff were far outnumbered by the number of people wanting to cross, and there was only one bathroom.
Despite the fact that many people managed to complete the travel procedures, the last ferry to Abu Simbel (Egypt) left at 5 pm. So hundreds of families, including senior citizens and children, had to sleep outdoors at night.
The next morning, after a hard night in which the temperatures dropped considerably, we finally left for Egypt.
While crossing the Nile River by ferry, I had mixed feelings of happiness and sadness that overwhelmed me at the same time.
I was happy to save my wife and children, but sad to have left my parents, relatives and friends behind to face the fierce realities of war, with no shield to protect them.
image source, Getty Images
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