The diggers were efficient, packing the earth so tightly that from the air, the field near the University of Sudan’s medical campus looks like a gravel-brown sea, undulating with the weight of the dead. To the caretakers on the ground, the scale is beyond calculation. When asked how many corpses lie beneath the soil, one man could only offer a weary shrug. “Hundreds? Thousands? Who knows,” he said.
More than a year after the Sudanese army fought to reclaim Khartoum from the Rapid Support Forces (RSF), a rival paramilitary faction, the capital remains a landscape of ruins. The battle for the Nile-front boulevards did more than destroy infrastructure; it turned the city into a sprawling network of mass graves in Khartoum, where the boundaries between residential neighborhoods and cemeteries have entirely vanished.
For the residents who could not flee when the war erupted in April 2023, the city became a trap. As fighting intensified, traditional cemeteries became inaccessible, cut off by sniper fire, and artillery. Families were forced to bury their dead in the only places they could reach: schoolyards, mosques, backyards, and sidewalks. Today, these makeshift sites serve as the only remaining records of a death toll that has climbed into the tens of thousands.
The forensic challenge of a looted city
The task of accounting for the dead falls to Hisham Zain al-Abidin, head of the State Forensics Authority. Speaking from an office painted in faded beige, al-Abidin described a scene of systemic brutality. He recounted seeing detainees who had been bound and executed, and RSF fighters buried in nothing more than their bedrolls.
In July, al-Abidin’s agency, working alongside the Sudanese Red Crescent and Civil Defense, began the grim process of scouring the capital for mass burial sites. Since then, they have collected and reburied some 23,000 corpses recovered from roads, homes, and looted districts.
However, the process of identification is nearly impossible. The fighting did not just kill people; it destroyed the tools needed to name them. All of the State Forensics Authority’s DNA analysis labs were looted and destroyed during the conflict. Without these facilities, the agency is forced to rely on a rudimentary system of numbering and marking graves for unidentified bodies, hoping that families might one day find them when technology becomes available again.
The scale of the loss is most evident at the University of Sudan. Al-Abidin noted that the RSF had commandeered a nearby building as a detention center, and the adjacent field likely contains thousands of victims. “You see one grave on the surface, but you dig and you’ll find five corpses inside,” he said. “Assume you have 500 graves there, we’re talking about roughly 2,500 people.”
A capital in ruins
Beyond the graves, the physical anatomy of Khartoum reflects a total collapse. The commercial district is gutted, and the National Museum has seen its ancient statues either stolen or shattered. Even the international airport, which has recently reopened, serves as a reminder of the violence; the carcasses of propeller planes sit riddled with bullet holes beside the runway, their wings twisted and askew.
The human cost extends far beyond the capital. Sudan is currently facing what is widely considered the world’s worst displacement crisis, with more than 12 million people forced to flee their homes. While official figures vary, some estimates suggest the total death toll since the conflict began four years ago could be as high as 400,000, with more than 61,000 of those deaths occurring within Khartoum state and its surrounding areas.
The cost of dignity
For many returning residents, the trauma of the war is physically embedded in their new homes. Omar Abdullah, who fled the massacre in El Fasher for Chad before relocating his family to Omdurman, discovered two graves—one small enough for a child—in the yard of his rented house. He found himself unable to let his children play in a space where strangers were buried.
Abdullah attempted to have the bodies moved to a proper cemetery, but he discovered the cost of private transfer was more than $200 per body. For a father struggling to pay rent and support his children, the cost was prohibitive. “Here’s the work of a government, not me,” he said.
Similarly, Mohammad Izzo, a 69-year-old school caretaker, spent months as an accidental groundskeeper for a makeshift cemetery on his campus. The first person he buried there was his brother, Hassan, who was killed by shrapnel in August 2023. At the time, the nearest official cemetery was nine miles away across the Nile—a journey Izzo described as a “suicide run” due to the intensity of the artillery and RSF restrictions on movement.
As the fighting dragged on, other grieving families asked to bury their dead beside Hassan. While Izzo eventually refused more requests to protect his grandchildren from the sight of the graves, more than 20 bodies were buried just outside the school wall, marked only by broken cinder blocks.
| Factor | Pre-War Standard | War-Time Reality |
|---|---|---|
| Burial Site | Designated Cemeteries | Schools, mosques, backyards, sidewalks |
| Transport | Hearses/Private transport | Inaccessible due to artillery and checkpoints |
| Identification | Official death certificates/DNA | Looted labs; numbered graves for the unidentified |
| Cost | Standard municipal/family fees | $200+ for private transfers; government funds depleted |
A future of unidentified loss
The recovery of the dead in Khartoum is currently stalled by a severe lack of resources. Al-Abidin reported a critical shortage of basic materials, including body bags, and noted that the cost of exhuming and reburying the remaining corpses exceeds his agency’s current budget.
With the city attempting to reopen schools and restore a semblance of normalcy, the presence of these graves remains a poignant obstacle. For men like Mohammad Izzo, the priority has shifted from the physical location of the body to a spiritual acceptance. “His body is here, but his soul is with Allah,” Izzo said of his brother. “And that’s what matters.”
The State Forensics Authority is currently planning fundraising campaigns to secure the equipment necessary to continue the recovery efforts. The next critical phase of the operation will depend on these funds, which will determine how many of the thousands of unidentified bodies can be properly relocated and preserved for future DNA analysis.
If you or a loved one have been affected by the conflict in Sudan and are seeking support, resources are available through the World Health Organization and international humanitarian agencies.
We invite readers to share their perspectives or information regarding the humanitarian crisis in Sudan in the comments below.
