3 pioneering women recount the brutal turning point of Sudan's revolution

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19th Jun 2019

Sudan captivated global attention with clips of the beauty and courage of its revolution. Spearheaded by women and pulsing with creative expression, it was successful in the first step of getting rid of its president of 30 years, Omar Al-Bashir, but his regime continues. A sit-in in the capital, Khartoum, formed in April to demand the start of democracy, became the heart of the revolution, with hundreds of thousands gathering together each day in a space that embodied the ‘New Sudan’ people dreamed of. But, last week marked a turning point.

The day before Eid, at dawn, regime forces snuck up on the sit-in while demonstrators were asleep to massacre the people and destroy the site. Peaceful protesters were shot, beaten or hacked with machetes, their bodies thrown into the River Nile. Tents were burned down with inhabitants inside. Women and men alike were raped. The death toll sits at 118 from that day alone, according to a group of doctors aligned with the protestors, but bodies are still being found and the violence continues across the country. The sit-in — home to so much art, community and joy — was razed to the ground. The internet has been shut down ever since. A statewide strike left the city deserted for three days in a powerful act of civil disobedience.

We have been following three pioneering women who have played a significant role in the revolution in Sudan. They update us on this dark turn of events, while reaffirming that the fight is far from over.

Alaa Satir, artist and illustrator

Eid in Sudan is usually so festive. You wake up to Eid greetings and selfies all over social media. This time it was quiet. People were heartbroken. Everyone, including myself, spent the day watching the videos, catching up with news, crying all day – it really broke us all.

That day [June 3] I was home. The day before me and my friends were thinking of going to the sit-in but at the last minute we decided not to. I was supposed to travel the next day and envied my friends for being able to witness Eid at the site. I awoke to messages from my friends asking me if I was OK. I went out of the house and heard gunshots, the roads were blocked with barricades and Rapid Support Forces (RSF) were everywhere.

We’re in a new phase now. We’re not just dealing with [the regime] we’re dealing with Janjaweed [the RSF is primarily built of the feared militia]. They’re an extension of [the regime] but we’re dealing with complete monsters now. They don’t care about committing any kind of human rights violation. We are familiar with them from the war in Darfur. They are people that rape, burn everything down, and enjoy it. You can see it in their eyes. They stopped us many times in our car, smiling and making intense eye contact. They do their job with a passion.

I have anxiety as the Janjaweed have a long history of assaulting and sexually assaulting women in particular — although they rape men too. It’s not about desire; they use it as a weapon to break you.

Those people should not be negotiated with, only overthrown. At first, we were thinking that the government would have a mix of military and civilian representation, but now we just want to take our country back. We want a government that represents us without military representation, and we want to see them prosecuted.

The strike was successful, but it’s not just about civil disobedience, it’s people mourning death. It doesn’t feel right to go about your day when over a hundred people just died. And people fear for their lives being on the street knowing at any second they could be stopped, beaten, killed, raped, anything. We are so angry but want to keep it peaceful so stopping life completely until our demands are met is the most powerful action we can do under a peaceful revolution.

The internet has been shut down. It has made it hard to make sure people are safe, especially for people in the diaspora. They’re trying to silence us, they know this revolution was mostly organised on the internet. They don’t want people to share what is happening so what helps right now is getting the word out. A massacre that killed more than 100 people should not be silenced, those people cannot die in vain.

All of our artwork [the chain reaction of artistry that Alaa set off when she started a mural on an empty wall] is gone. They destroyed it all. They made sure there was no sign of any resistance there. But the community built in that sit-in did not go when it burnt down. The revolution ignited in every one of us will live until we reach the finish line. If anything, it has made us more determined.

Marwa Babiker, neuroscientist, doctor and poet

When I left the sit-in area last month, I never thought in a million years that we could go back to square one. Everyone was optimistic; the military council said they wanted to give us power and were ready to negotiate.

The day before Eid, one of the holiest days for Muslims, soldiers came in their thousands. I watched my people being killed on Facebook live videos. I saw doctors operating on people in the field clinics of the sit-in area. I started crying because it was the same clinic where I had spent most of my time. I could imagine myself being shot, although I don’t think I would have cared. When you believe in something that big, you are ready to die for it.

The Central Committee of Sudanese Doctors wrote a humanitarian appeal to the World Health Organisation, UN, and other NGOs. There are huge numbers in intensive care units, doctors treating people on hospital floors because it’s so overcrowded, essential medical supplies are missing; no analgesics, no intravenous solutions, and there’s a great shortage of blood in the banks because people cannot even get there to donate as the streets are unsafe. Doctors were still running emergency services but militias started targeting them, breaking into hospitals, terrorising people, preventing doctors from treating them. As a result, eight hospitals have totally shut down.

They’re attempting to terrorise people but it only makes us stronger. Everyone knows the real fight is starting now. I uploaded a video describing what happened, seen now by a little more than 200,000 people. Although we cannot do much from outside the country, we’re trying.

At the sit-in, I saw the ‘New Sudan’ I want. If you were hungry, you ate, if you were thirsty, you drank; you did not pay for anything inside. Women had an equal role. People would teach the homeless children who would show up how to read and write. Doctors left their jobs to help treat people there. People were growing plants outside to make it greener. Painters created beautiful works. There was a place for everyone. No-one will accept the transitional military council as a ruling authority after what they took from us.

Yousra Elbagir, reporter for Channel 4 News

The sit-in was just magical. It was a hub of arts and culture and a sanctuary to so many. It was something me and my friends, who are under 30 and have never seen a Sudan without [former president] Al-Bashir, had never experienced. Women were celebrated — surprising because they had been vilified for so long. It became “This way, Kandake” [meaning Nubian queen, which became the term for the Sudanese women revolutionaries] and “Do you need help, Kandake”. At some points it felt too good to be true, but at others it felt like it was going to be the people’s place forever.

People want to know why the Hemeti isn’t wanted for his war crimes in Darfur and the capital by the International Criminal Court. They want pressure on the transitional military council to hand over power to civilians — not just statements but real repercussions for the aggression; they want them to have something to lose.

They want pressure to restore the internet because people want to speak to their families. They feel like Sudan’s been annexed from the world. I would call people in Sudan and because there was no internet, they would ask me what’s going on.

What happened on June 3 has given people a very small glimpse into what people in Sudanese regions Darfur, South Kordofan, and the seceded South Sudan experienced at the hands of the regime for decades. There were a lot of chants at the start of the revolution of “We are all Darfur”, chants quickly forgotten when Darfur’s warlord became the interim Vice [as deputy head of the TMC]. That privilege of being Arabised North or in the capital has been stripped from people and they have had no choice but to feel solidarity with people who experienced this for so long. It consolidated the cause, and made people realise we’ve still got some ways to go.

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This story was originally published by Vogue.co.uk.