Nisrien Ibrahim is a Sudanese New Zealander who was evacuated from Khartoum when fighting broke out last year. Ten months later, fighting continues and her heart is still breaking for the people of her homeland. 

On April 15 last year, Nisrien Ibrahim’s world changed forever. It was 3am; usually a quiet hour in Khartoum, especially during Ramadan. The power in her neighbourhood went out, and the fighting started. 

“I guess I expected it: when you’re in a city with that many militias and military groups, I guess you would expect them to start shooting each other at some point. But it doesn’t make it easier when it happens.” 

Before April 15, there had been considerable tension in Sudan for several years but not open warfare. Several military groups had collaborated to overthrow dictator Omar Al-Bashir in 2019, after massive protests. However, a supposedly temporary military-civilian council supposed to lead towards democracy was overthrown in another coup in 2021. A variety of military forces were operating in the country, including the Sudanese Armed Forces, the official military, and the Rapid Support Forces, another paramilitary group. The leaders of each group are fighting over who gets to control the country; the simmering rivalry became outright fighting in April.

The current war began as conflict between the Sudanese Armed Forces (the military) and a paramilitary group headed by Hemedti, who was part of a coup in Sudan in 2021. Fighting centred on capital Khartoum, and armed rebel factions have become involved. There have been airstrikes and bombing, damaging huge areas of Khartoum. More than 12,000 people have been killed, and more than 33,000 injured.

The UN high commissioner for refugees says that, in a country of 45 million, nearly ten million people have been displaced, with many fleeing to Ethiopia, Chad, South Sudan and Egypt. The war is the latest episode in a long, tragic history of military violence in Sudan. Médecins Sans Frontières says that children are dying from malnutrition; the UN has appealed for $4.1bn to meet humanitarian needs within Sudan, but many humanitarian groups are not able to operate because of the violence.

Ibrahim is a New Zealand citizen; she moved here with her family as a child, and studied in New Zealand before moving back to Sudan in 2004 to be closer to extended family and relatives. She ran an agricultural business in Sudan; she had friends, a house, a beloved dog. 

Following the April 15 fighting, it quickly became clear that she and her family had to leave. With her mother and sisters, Ibrahim managed to get to the military airport in Khartoum, and travel to a camp in Jordan, before being evacuated to Germany. With support from the New Zealand embassy, they stayed in a hotel in Germany, then were able to come to New Zealand, arriving on April 30, 15 days after the fighting had started. After having been away for nearly 20 years, Ibrahim was essentially starting from scratch; she’s currently receiving a Jobseeker allowance and living in temporary emergency housing in a motel in East Auckland.

“I’m looking for a job, but the stress of the ordeal has created some health issues,” she says. “I can only work part time for now.” She hasn’t yet found a job that will work, but she’s hoping that when she does, she’ll be able to rent a house for herself. Her mother and sisters are safe in New Zealand too and trying to build a new life.

In the meantime, Ibrahim follows updates from the war closely. “Thousands of people have died,” she says. “Every day I hope it’s not one of my friends.” She posts regular updates, information about people who are missing, and appeals for help on her Facebook page, which has several thousand followers. “Whenever I open Facebook, I see condolences for people who are dying,” she says. 

Her friends back in Sudan are happy that she’s safe; they text and send pictures as frequently as they can. “They tell me to please take care of myself,” Ibrahim says. “But I miss them, I don’t want them to be in danger.” It’s hard to imagine building a life in Aotearoa when so much of her heart is still in Sudan. “My friends are being so brave, they’re trying to sort out their own problems, but the war keeps going,” she says, nearly crying. 

She recently heard from a friend that he had spent a day looking for medicine, but none of the pharmacies that were open had what he needed. “The doctors are working in very dangerous conditions,” she says; most hospitals are out of service. She frequently sees calls on social media for donations of a particular blood group: low supplies of A negative or B positive. But there is nothing she can do but read, and share, and text.  

“It feels so terrible to be so far away, even if I know being there wouldn’t help,” she says. “In Sudan we’ve had many tragedies throughout the years, but we were together; now we’re not together any more.” Some of her loved ones have managed to go to Egypt, where there isn’t fighting, but this brings new stressors: finding jobs, paying rent. Many people are borrowing money from relatives, with those who have secure jobs in Gulf states sending money back for their families.

The war in Sudan has been going for 10 months, and Ibrahim doesn’t know what to hope for. “The people in power in Sudan are very corrupted and very evil men,” Ibrahim says. She feels desperately sad that the situation in her country is so hopeless. “Even when the war ends, it could take 10 years to rebuild, it could take 20.” 

Each of the sadnesses that Ibrahim carries for her friends, she tries to magnify by 45 million, the population of Sudan – nearly 10 times the size of Aotearoa. “The whole Sudanese nation is going through trauma, we are all affected. We like to eat, we like music, and coffee, and parties – all that life is on hold.” 

It’s frustrating that there is little international attention on the war, as it’s an internal conflict, Ibrahim says. “Do you think that you’re so far away that this doesn’t affect you?” she asks. “It’s a question of humanity.” Historically, Sudan has been a place of trade connections for its rich resources and agriculture. “What happens in Sudan impacts raw materials that are used in [every] industry, it impacts the rest of the world.”

Ibrahim regularly has friends and family asking her how to come to New Zealand, where it’s safe. She doesn’t know how to help them; the immigration system is complicated. There have been calls for a Sudan-specific visa but no movement from the government, although there was $3.5m of aid funding given through the Red Cross and the UN last year. Ibrahim has contacted local representatives to ask for help, but feels that there is not much else she can do. 

Meanwhile, life goes on in New Zealand; we speak in a park in Ellerslie, children jumping in the fountain. “I’m happy it’s peaceful here, and that New Zealand is my home also,” Ibrahim says. “I’m resilient, but I’m tired.”

 “It might have no impact, all the reading and sharing and asking, but it’s all I can do.”