A journey
into a forgotten conflict.
In Sudan, a civil war has been raging
for almost a year now.
Ten million people
are fleeing the violence.
More than in any other crisis worldwide.
Of these, a quarter of a million
internally displaced persons
have found refuge
in the Nuba Mountains.
Since the war broke out
it has been almost impossible
to report from Sudan.
Visas are not granted
to foreign journalists.
But with the help of an aid organization
we were able to gain access.
We are here to talk to people
whose stories would otherwise
not be heard.
My name is Namarik Ismail
I’m a nurse.
I fled from the war in Khartoum.
My name is Shadia Hamdan.
I was in Kedber
when we were attacked
and my children were murdered.
My name is Hane Hamoda
I fled after having lost my two children
and one of my legs.
These women have survived
the horrors of bombing,
destruction,
rape and displacement.
But they refuse to give up.
We're traveling in a United Nations plane
from the South Sudanese capital of Juba
towards the Sudanese border.
Upon arrival in Yida, we continue by car.
A couple of hours later, we prepare
to cross the border into Sudan.
The only indication of its existence
is a red ribbon.
We’re headed to the Nuba Mountains
in the state of South Kordofan
in the south of Sudan.
The region is controlled by the rebels
of the SPLM-N.
For nearly four decades
they’ve been fighting against
the Sudanese central government.
The rebels are demanding
more self-determination
and a secular self-government.
They say that for too long
their brothers, the Nubians,
have been discriminated against
and oppressed by the elites
in the capital Khartoum
because of their religion and ethnicity.
The region has been neglected,
lacking roads, medical staff,
humanitarian aid and food.
International NGOs are only allowed
to operate with permission from Khartoum
and the war has now almost
completely cut off the already
precarious flow of humanitarian aid.
We've reached the Agiri Camp.
Around ten thousand people live here.
Most of them fled from Khartoum
and the surrounding area,
when fighting broke out between
the Sudanese army and the paramilitaries.
Hane Hamoda is one of them.
When the bomb hit our house,
I didn't immediately lose my leg
or feel that it was severed.
My body just went completely numb.
She was taken to hospital
and operated on immediately.
When she woke up after
her leg had been amputated,
the doctors told her that she had also
lost her two sons, Awatif and Abrar,
who were only two and four years old.
My children were adorable,
we used to play a lot together.
But now God has taken them from me.
And I leave it to God
to judge the government.
I don’t blame God.
She says the bomb dropped on her house
came from the Sudanese army.
She and her two older children
managed to flee here,
to the Nuba Mountains.
And even with hardly anything to eat
and a long way to the closest
water pump
– here, they’re safe.
Safe from daily air strikes,
shelling and gunfire.
A brutal power struggle is playing out
in Africa's third largest country
between army chief and de-facto president
Abdel Fattah al-Burhan
on the one hand,
and his former deputy
and leader of the paramilitary
Rapid Support Forces
Mohammed Hamdan Daglo
known as Hemedti,
on the other.
They have been fighting constantly
since April last year
neither side wanting to give in.
So far, all international attempts
at mediation for a ceasefire
have failed.
Namarik Ismail was also forced to flee.
She was working as a nurse in Khartoum
when the bombs began raining down
around her.
As she was leaving the city,
she heard that the paramilitaries
were specifically going after women.
I was very scared
because people were being robbed
on the way.
And then there was the danger
of being raped.
A few of us, about three or four,
managed to get out.
But some stayed behind.
My father and my brother
are still missing.
She was lucky and made it
unharmed to the Nuba Mountains,
where relatives took her in.
After a month, she found a job
in the region’s only hospital.
Since the war began
malnourished children have been
arriving here in growing numbers.
For months, Namarik has been waiting
for fresh supplies of medicine.
We have some medication
but not nearly enough.
We lack important painkillers
and antibiotics.
So, we must refer patients with
serious illnesses
to hospitals in other regions.
She’s angry at the two generals
who are making the people pay the price
for their power struggle.
Hemedti and al-Burhan
are fighting each other,
but it’s the people who are suffering.
They have nothing left.
I think neither one is fit to rule Sudan.
Someone else should lead this country.
Despite, or maybe even because of the
challenges she’s faced,
Namarik doesn’t want to return
to Khartoum – whenever the war ends.
When I arrived here
and started working, I realized that
people here need my help much more
than the people in Khartoum.
Like Namarik, around a quarter
of a million people have fled
to the Nuba Mountains
since the war broke out.
This church has played a central role
in getting people to safety.
Many in the community say
that without the help of Pastor Musa Kodi
they wouldn’t be here today.
A few weeks after the fighting began,
he organized 23 buses to bring
1,500 people from Khartoum
to the mountains.
Our people scattered.
Our people died.
Our people...
...they were not having food.
The bus carried more than the number
that it’s supposed to carry.
Because people are running from them,
and they were not able to stay there.
So we just filled the bus,
and they faced a lot of
hunger on the way.
Many were taken in by relatives
or other church members.
It’s a tightknit community,
where people share what little they have.
But this is not a permanent solution.
After nearly a year of fighting,
many people are looking to
the international community
as a last hope of ending the war.
The countries,
those who are more strong,
to put pressure
on the government of Sudan,
so that they can solve the problem,
can stop the war.
But if they are not able to talk
to Hemedti and al-Burhan
to stop this war,
people will still suffer.
It may seem peaceful in this region,
but war is raging on its northern border.
The Sudanese army is
only seven kilometers away,
in the town of Kadugli.
We aren’t allowed any closer.
Instead, the rebels show us their
captured military equipment.
All their weapons come from the enemy,
General Ezekiel Talodi Kaffi tells me.
Look around at all the suffering.
There is no health care,
no education, no food.
We have told the Sudanese government
to improve conditions.
But they haven’t done anything.
That’s why we will keep fighting until
they are removed from power.
The civilians here seem to support them.
But those civilians are also the ones
who are getting caught
between the fronts.
In October 2023,
soldiers of the Sudanese army
invaded the village of Kedber,
and began killing people indiscriminately,
according to survivors we spoke to.
Shadia Hamdan and her family
were at home when the soldiers attacked.
These men just showed up.
First, they killed my husband,
then my children.
I was afraid that they would kill me, too,
and I started screaming.
They pushed me down
and began raping me.
As soon as one had finished,
the next one came.
They said,
Today we're going to show you,
you rebel!
They told me that this is the way
they would kill me.
But she survived, and made it
to this improvised camp.
Around five thousand people
fled here from Kedber.
Many of the women have suffered
similar violence.
With no NGOs active in the area,
a single donation of plastic tarp
is all that has made it through.
And there’s not enough to go around
for everyone in need.
Sick, injured, and traumatized people
are left to fend for themselves.
I had so many doubts.
I no longer saw any point in living.
I can't offer my surviving daughters
a good education or anything else.
I can't even manage
to give them enough food.
And they don't even want to eat.
They just sit there,
unable to do anything,
lost in their own thoughts.
Every few days, a group of men
risk their lives by collecting
what little food they can
from the fields around Kedber,
and distributing it among the residents.
Without their help,
her family would starve, says Shadia.
But this small pot
has to feed 15 people.
And her continuous struggle,
having to act as a mother and provider,
leaves her no time to process
what she has been through.
I want to create a home for my children
so that they are not constantly reminded
of what happened to them.
I hope that they can grow up well,
despite everything.
Back at the Agiri Camp,
Hane Hamoda sets off on the
excruciating trek to the water pump.
The round trip takes about
an hour and a half.
And without her friends
accompanying her,
it would be too hard.
They give me the feeling
that I haven't lost everything.
They encourage me every day,
and tell me that my life still has value,
that I can’t give up.
Hane Hamoda
also has two surviving daughters,
and they are the ones,
who give her the strength
to carry on.
I do now struggle
so that I may make them educated,
so that I may make them happy.
They should not feel that I am,
that they don’t have a complete mother.
That is why I practice to do every activity
around the camp.
So that they don’t say
that they’ve lost their mom.
This stoic resilience
unites the women.
The strong will
to see their children grow up well,
despite the war.
To carry on no matter what.
And to one day,
rebuild their country.