They fled the conflict in Sudan with $800, a family of 5, and bullets.

Inside Khartoum

Omnia Ahmed, 26 awoke early on April 15th to the sounds of gunfire outside her front entrance. She was initially hopeful that the fighting would end quickly. However, things turned bleak when bullets flew into her mother’s room and onto a sofa.

She said, “This really shocked me.” She sits in that chair every day.

Ahmed, who worked in the United Nations’ aid program in Sudan, was not the only one to be optimistic about the end of the fighting.

“We Sudanese have always believed that Khartoum was the safest place,” Zaria Suleiman said, a 56-year-old mother of four and international development worker who has lived in the city for over 25 years.

Khartoum, Sudan’s largest and capital city, has more than five million residents. It is also a vital economic, cultural, and transportation hub, which has largely avoided the sporadic conflict in the west.

It was all good until now.

Amna and Suleiman were paralyzed by the blaring sound of airstrikes that rained down on their home, causing them to have sleepless nights. The stories of friends and neighbors missing or dead began to spread throughout the community of their north of the capital.

She said, “It was a fear for our lives.” “I wouldn’t sleep before 7 o’clock for fear of being hit by a rocket in the middle night.”

Local stores ran out of water, milk and essentials. Families were also struggling to find electricity, so they rationed what they had. However, some families still went on a dangerous hunt for essentials.

Suleiman’s husband and son went in search of water, and she said that her heart would have pounded if they didn’t return.

She claimed to have seen looters raiding shops and homes in her neighborhood for flour, sugar, or other valuables that were left behind. A looter, who assumed the house was empty, came to her door while she was there. He fled when her husband confronted them.

Some people weren’t as lucky.

Civilians were caught in the crossfire when neighborhoods were divided between the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces (RSF) and the Sudanese Military. During the holy month of Ramadan, neighbors were shot as they attempted to collect bread for their break.

Ahmed explained that despite the dire situation many people were reluctant to leave, but in the end, “the choice was ours.”

Sudanese citizens searched WhatsApp groups and local meetings in tea cafes for an escape route as Khartoum sank deeper into violence and prompted the rest of world to evacuate its citizens and close down their embassies.

Sometimes, getting to the bus stops was a challenge.

The sudden chaos was a source of distress for the children and elderly members of the family.

Al-Sharif’s sister cried the entire way to the airport about her cat, leaving the house and possibly dying.

Many had to leave their loved ones.

Suleiman, who left her husband and son to repair some damage in their home, said: “You just don’t know the fear of them not being there again.”

The city was dotted with checkpoints that were haphazardly placed, making every trip a dangerous gamble.

Ahmed claimed that while her grandmother was fleeing her home to a safer place across the city, the caretaker of her grandmother was shot by an RSF soldier and “killed” in the car next to her.

Locals may have viewed army checkpoints as “lenient”, but their location and who is responsible for them has changed constantly. Suleiman stated that “there is no guarantee. It’s your luck.”

Locals say that the cost of chartering a 48-person bus has risen to more than $20,000; a price out of reach for most people living in Sudan, where a href=”https://databankfiles.worldbank.org/public/ddpext_download/poverty/987B9C90-CB9F-4D93-AE8C-70588BF00QA/SM2020/Global_POVEQ_SDN.pdf”>almost half/a>almost/a Locals say that the fares are now more than $20,000; a price which is beyond the reach of most Sudanese, who live in a country where nearly half lives below poverty line.

Abdel-Rahman el-Mahdi is the head of a local NGO. He said, “The buses are rare commodities, so they have to negotiate with other people in order to get a lower price.” It took him seven full days to escape Sudan after a bus cancelled on him.

Border chaos

Suleiman saw burning bodies and destroyed factories as she peered out the window of her bus on her way out of Khartoum. She said, “It was an horrific scene.”

Buses departing Khartoum for Egypt have to cross two bridges before continuing north for 14 hours. After stopping for fuel overnight, the buses continue their eight-hour journey to the Argeen border, or Wadi halfa, which is a small town and parallel border crossing on the opposite side of the Nile.

In the beginning, people chose Argeen as it was a safer crossing. As the traffic grew, thousands of people also headed to Wadi Halfa.

Ahmed, speaking of the Argeen border scenes, said: “I felt like a zoo-animal.” “I felt as if everything had been taken away from me,” said Ahmed.

Families such as hers were forced for several nights to sleep on either side of border crossing. The border was desert hot and there were no humanitarian groups to provide water, medical care or toilets.

Others saw people die due to pacemakers not working, dehydration or insulin shortage.

The lack of workers, and the complex visa process for Sudanese males between 16 and 49 years old, forced many families to be split apart. Some young men were rerouted last minute.

There were many men who couldn’t make it through. Suleiman remembered, “I have never seen men cry so much.” “You are already angry and broken,” she continued.

Al-Sharif had convinced his family to leave Wadi halfa, where they were sleeping on the floor in a mosque courtyard, and go to Egypt to get better medical care or to obtain new insulin supplies.

It would take six more hours for his family to cross the Nile on a boat after crossing the border. The majority of families will then attempt to drive to Cairo or Alexandria – another 16 hour drive.

Al-Sharif, like thousands of young Sudanese, was stuck at the border alone for three days and now tries his luck in Port Sudan, another crossing.

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The border town’s population has more than doubled since the first outbreak of conflict. Young men are now sleeping in the streets while they wait for an Egyptian entry visa.

Suleiman, her husband and son have made it safely to Cairo, Egypt’s vibrant capital. However, her son remains in the border town. She is anxiously awaiting news and the uncertainty of whether or not she will be able to go back to Sudan is beginning to creep in.

“This is home.” She said, “I don’t know what else I can do.”

Suleiman continued, “Everything just gets blown in the air.”