Sudan Protests: An Uprising Led by Sudan’s Youth

Sudan is witnessing the start of a revolution against a 30-year oppressive and dictatorial regime. Protests began on 19 December 2018 in Atbara and spread like wildfire to many other cities and towns across Sudan.

To be honest, I’ve never really believed in public demonstrations or protests. As a student at the University of Khartoum (UofK) for seven years, I have witnessed many student protests and strikes within the campus. However, the protests rarely ever went beyond the university gates. During protests, we would stand in solidarity with our classmates and announce a unanimous student strike for an unknown period of time till our rights were met. The university would close and reopen due to student protests. However, each time, the university would reopen with little to no change. So I’ve always had my doubts and been very sceptical about protests in general.

That all changed on 20 December 2018. It was a normal day like any other. As doctors in Sudan, we have a course to attend before starting our medical internship or imtiyaz, which was held close to the Faculty of Medicine.

It was the third day of the four-day course. I attempted to leave the lecture early. I remember, just before getting up to leave, the professor began talking about how doctors nowadays are paid very little and aren’t valued enough. He then said,

‘ليكم حق انتو ما يدوكم قروش زي الناس عملتو شنو انتو؟ نحن زمان قلبنا حكمين انتو عملت شنو؟’

‘You deserve not to be paid well! In the past, we overthrew two regimes! What have you done?’

Then those seated at the front replied,

‘قلبتو الحكومة و جبتو لينا دا!’

‘You overthree the previous regimes and brought us this one!’

Then laughing, feeling defeated, he replied:

‘!هوي ما جيبنا ليكم اي زول نحنا, جو براهم’

‘Hey! We didn’t bring anyone! They came alone!’

That was pretty much the last thing I consciously heard. As I reached the exit door, to my dismay, we were not allowed to leave. There was word of protests near Al-Souk Al-Arabi and they began to spread. We were locked in. We were told to stay indoors. After waiting for a good half an hour, they told us it was safe to leave. We made our way to the university and within the campus, chants started to get louder. People were beginning to assemble. Small groups became larger ones and people gathered around to watch.

Various chants were heard:

‘الشعب يريد اسقاط النظام’ ‘

The people demand the fall of the regime‘

‘يا بوليس ماهتك كم؟ عارف السكر بقى بي كم’

‘Hey police! What is your salary? Do you know how much sugar costs now?’

‘سقطت سقطت يا كيزان’

‘[The regime) has fallen. It has fallen’

At first, it was only inside the university premises, nothing to be scared of. But then, they went out on to the main street, Al Qasr Avenue. They walked out with rage and fury yet so peacefully. A peaceful protest like it always has been and always will be. I stood by the door, pulled out my phone, and started documenting. After walking down the main street, they then started to walk in and out of university. Police forces began to show up and situated themselves on the other side of the street in their characteristic army-patterned four-wheel vehicles. I continued to film. The guards of the university gates began to signal to the protesters to go back inside but they didn’t listen. The police then took out their tear gas equipment and began to fire. The gathering started to disperse and some people ran inside. To my utter surprise though, many didn’t. They stood their ground and continued chanting with anger and perseverance. No police or tear gas could disperse them. One of the boys shouted at the police as he was firing the tear gas.

‘!يا باطل, ديل نسوان’

‘You fool, these are women!’

Before I knew it, a student in front of me was hit. He lost balance and fell only a few metres away from me. The tear gas canister, known as bomban in Sudan, exploded near his eye. Within seconds, blood started spurting out of his eye socket and into the ground around him. I started screaming. Everyone did. I had never seen something like that in real life before, only in films. People rushed to the wounded boy and he was quickly taken into a car and to the hospital. The tear gas was so strong, we couldn’t breathe. Some were suffocating. Those who had asthma began wheezing and coughing. It was too strong for some that they fainted. It was chaos. We all started to run to Albaghdadi Hall in a desperate attempt to escape the burning and suffocating tear gas. Everything happened so quickly. People were in shock and couldn’t grasp what was going on. The guard demanded everyone to come in and with the last protestor inside, he closed the university gates. Still though, the resilience of the people was incredible. They stood by the gates chanting and pointing fingers at the police, attempting to provoke them. They weren’t scared. It was at this moment, I realised the resilience, determination and stamina people had. It was astounding. It was also at this very moment that I knew this time around, things were going to be different.

So much has changed in this short period of time. For instance, previously young men who would sit by sit al shai (tea woman), drinking tea with gelled curly hair would be looked down upon and labelled as lazy, uneducated and lacking ambition. However, it is these people who have been in the forefront of the protests. It is these people who will bring about change to the country, more than those who were quick to mislabel them. It is these people who have put their lives at risk for the country. Another notable change is the unprecedented unity among protesters. No one is superior to the other. We are all on the streets with the same goal – to bring down this regime. It’s truly fulfilling when you look around and see people from different walks of life – different ages, sizes, ethnicities and educational backgrounds. I don’t think Sudan has ever been this united. In addition, there has not been a single case of catcalling or harassment towards girls during these large congregations whereas before any sort of gathering would have left girls complaining of being inappropriately touched or spoken to. But now there’s simply no room for that. Everyone is out to bring an end to the government in hopes for a new prosperous Sudan where there is employment, zero racism, booming infrastructure, affordable schools, abundant bread, cash liquidity and overflowing petrol.

The hospitality that Sudanese people are renowned for all over the world has once again showcased itself. The scarce bread, and the catalyst of the uprising, was given out to protesters along with food, drinks, masks and even Pepsi to wash out tear gas. Water was left outside households in zeers (clay pot coolers) for protestors. We saw the popular photos of young men offering their backs and extending a hand to help young women cross over or climb up tp safety. Doors were kept open for protestors to come seek refuge when being chased by the police.

The Sudan uprising has been eye-opening and reminded us of the atrocities the government committed in South Sudan, Darfur, the Nubian Mountains, South Kordofan and more – something we, in the north, have been oblivious to. We knew of civil conflicts in these areas but turned a blind eye to their suffering. For that, we should feel ashamed and responsible. We now have an insight to what has been happening all those years or even decades, and more and more people are being awakened, which is further igniting our rage and motivation to continue the protest against Omar Al Bashir and his regime and put an end to the reign of the war criminals.

The day the Sudanese Professional Association announced the date of the peaceful protests, we were all on edge, having mixed feelings, excited but also anxious. An adrenaline rush hits us on the morning of the protests. Questions rush through our head. How many more will be lashed and tortured? How long are we going to go through this? Will we receive any help? Will the Arab world ever care? Will the international world ever care? Who will the next martyr be? How many more will die? I remember reading a Facebook post that wrote:

‘و انت/ي طالع/ة من بيتكم صلي ليك ركعتين صلاة مودع ,لأنو القصة بقت موت’

‘When leaving your house [to go protest], pray a farewell prayer, because it [the protests] has become a matter of life and death’

That resonated with me for weeks on end – to die simply for protesting for your basic rights. And what’s worse is that it has become “normal” to be beaten to death mercilessly simply for voicing your opinion. Videos and pictures of people exposed to torture circulated the Internet. Seeing images of bruises, blood and broken bones has become normal. We just scroll through, almost numb to their pain, because ‘it’s normal’. To not hear of a protestor’s death leaves you rejoicing in happiness. I hate that our normal is this normal and that the world chooses to turn a blind eye because clearly some lives are less worthy than others, and violating human rights in a certain region isn’t the same as a region just across a sea/ocean.

There is no greater example of humanity, kindness and love than that of Moawia Othman’s, who was shot dead on 18 January by police for refusing to let them in to arrest the protestors he hid in his house. He sacrificed his life for the protestors, for the revolution and for Sudan. We are forever indebted to him, his family, and the other +40 martyrs and their families. Their loss will not go in vain. We will not give up.

The more the demonstrations go on, the more we gain and the more the government loses. The wall of fear has been broken for every bloodshed fuels us to keep moving. The Sudanese community has grown to be fearless and when we say, ‘Enough!’ we mean, ‘Enough’! It’s been a tough 40 days, filled with deep-rooted pain, sorrow, anger, hope, resilience, kindness, love and most importantly, solidarity. We have been in battle for 40 days and we will continue to do so until this oppressive regime falls. We’ve done it twice before. We most definitely can do it again for the third time.

Saria Osman El-Amin is a 22-year-old recent graduate of the Faculty of Medicine, University of Khartoum (Class of 2018). Currently based in Khartoum, Saria is a part-time English and maths teacher. She values time alone a lot, and without it, she feels exhausted and unable to function. She enjoys reading books, travelling, going out with friends, having a laugh and of course, eating good food.