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The Guardian - AU
The Guardian - AU
National
Rafqa Touma

‘It’s like reliving the trauma’: sleepless and terrified, Sudanese Australians watch conflict rage in their homeland

Smoke rises during clashes between rival government factions in Khartoum, Sudan on Wednesday.
Smoke rises during clashes between rival government factions in Khartoum, Sudan on Wednesday. Photograph: Anadolu Agency/Getty Images

News of war comes out of Sudan in the form of blurred photos and broken calls. It is buildings toppling, families separated, children lying on mud-covered ground, hit by shelling and shooting, running to flee the besieged capital of Khartoum. It is images of people in absolute distress.

More than 12,000km away, many in Australia’s Sudanese diaspora watch and listen, gripped by terror. The only bridge connecting them to family is a fickle telephone line at the mercy of unstable internet and dwindling power.

‘No one knows what will happen next’

Clashes erupted across Sudan on Saturday in a power struggle between the military and the main paramilitary force. The conflict threatens to destabilise Sudan and the surrounding region, and has left an estimated 300 dead.

On the first day of conflict, Mona Mohamed called her husband, Bakir Jabir, in Sydney to tell him she couldn’t get on her flight out of Sudan.

“We could hear in the background the shooting, the bullets,” Jabir says.

Mona Mohamed and Bakir Jabir. Mohamed wears a white or very light pink long sleeved zip-up hoodie with the hood up, as well as a white scarf made of delicate material. Jabir wears a dark blue button-down shirt with white grid patterning.
‘I don’t know for how long I won’t be able to see you, or my children’: Mona Mohamed, who is stuck in Sudan, and her husband, Bakir Jabir Photograph: Bakir Jabir

His wife is staying with family close to the international airport in Khartoum – a key battleground of the power struggle. After 10 minutes, the phone line was cut off.

“It was terrible. It was the worst news. We didn’t know what to do.”

Jabir and Mohamed have lived in Australia with their children for 23 years. Mohamed was meant to be in Sudan for a short holiday. “But now she can’t leave,” Jabir says.

He has not slept since the call. “With the time difference, I am staying awake to follow the news, to try to call her.”

In another short phone call on Thursday morning, Mohamed says houses near where she is staying have come under fire.

“We are deeply concerned now, and fear for her safety,” Jabir says.

Mohamed has told him no one knows what will happen next. “The problem is I can’t leave the house or go anywhere,” she told Jabir. “I don’t know for how long I won’t be able to see you, or my children.”

Retraumatised and triggered

For Abang Anade Othow, refugee ambassador for the Refugee Council of Australia, the conflict is triggering.

Othow was born in what is now South Sudan. She left aged five as a refugee fleeing war, arriving in Australia on her 18th birthday.

Refugee ambassador for The Refugee Council of Australia, Abang Anade Othow, wearing a brightly coloured patterned top.
Abang Anade Othow says seeing news of the conflict in Sudan ‘is almost like reliving that trauma’. Photograph: The Refugee Council of Australia

“It was a very long time living as a refugee, going from one country to another,” she says. “I was separated from my family, and my dad was killed in the war. So I’m very familiar with the feeling around that.”

According to the latest census data, there are about 17,000 Sudan-born people living in Australia. Most arrived during the Sudanese civil war.

Othow says many in the diaspora are fearful of images of conflict sent from Sudan in group chats. Family and friends are running out of food, schools are shutting down, water supply is faltering and electricity is going out.

Jabir says many “don’t know how long they are going to survive”.

News of the conflict is retraumatising, Othow says.

“A lot of them know the fear of war, and what will happen if it intensifies. This ongoing conflict is bringing back memories very close. It is almost like reliving that trauma, knowing that should not be happening in this time and age.”

‘You need to do something, but you can’t’

Many are overwhelmed by a sense of desperation, sadness, anger, confusion and helplessness.

“I know time is short, and I know the opportunity I’ve been given [that] millions of others haven’t,” Othow says. “I think a strong sense in me is to help people. But it is that sense of helplessness, not being there to support your family. It is really hard.”

Jabir feels the same. “You need to do something, but you can’t.”

In Australia, community activists such as Jabir are trying to organise rallies, address the media and talk to politicians. He calls on Australian authorities to help Australians like his wife who are unable to leave Sudan.

“We also urge the Australian authorities to intervene to put pressure on both sides to ceasefire immediately,” he says. “Sudan is a country that is already exhausted. Each day that passes by with war will cost years to fix.

“We need an urgent interference, to put an end to this, to allow humanitarian aid to get through, to get both factions to go back to the negotiating table and reach a peaceful agreement.”

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