The Ruins of Khartoum: Examining Loss and Resilience After War
Khartoum, once vibrant, now lies in ruins after RSF occupation from April 2023 left over 61,000 dead and millions displaced. Amid destruction, memories and fragmented remnants of family life reveal hope and resilience for the future as residents return to assess the damage.
In the wake of conflict that erupted in April 2023, Khartoum, Sudan’s bustling capital, is now a ghost of its former self. The paramilitary Rapid Support Forces (RSF) seized control of the city amidst a power struggle, resulting in devastating consequences. Over 61,000 lives lost, countless injuries, and thousands still unaccounted for, as the city sought safety amid chaos. After two years under RSF occupation, the Sudanese Armed Forces have just begun to reclaim the city, leaving behind streets lined with destruction.
Once lively neighborhoods are now stark reminders of war. Charred buildings, cracked pavements, and survive remnants of looted shops dominate the landscape. Khartoum’s majestic skyscrapers, previously glistening along the River Nile, now stand as hollow, blackened structures. With around 13 million people displaced, many fled their homes in urgency, assuming peace would return quickly—even as they left everything behind.
Among the disarray is my family home, the site of countless memories growing up. Navigating through the distorted streets, it’s difficult to recognize familiar landmarks, which have all but disappeared. The lively gatherings of neighbors have given way to emptiness, with only remnants of old sidewalks remaining—overgrown with weeds, as they choke the entrance to my childhood home.
Our once-vibrant garden is overrun with wild growth, as my mother’s and brother’s beloved mango and jasmine trees wilt away. It is a haunting sight. Even our family car is gone—a victim of the chaos shortly after my parents left. At our front lawn, the two chairs my parents favored are still present, but vines and thorns wrap around them, claiming dominion over what used to be my sanctuary.
Back in Khartoum, residents return like players in a perilous game of chance, assessing the aftermath of their homes. Ground zero varies, with some houses relatively intact, others almost completely obliterated. My own home looks unscathed from a distance, yet a crack indicates a nearby explosion—a bitter reminder of the destruction that forced my family to evacuate.
Inside the house, loss looms heavily. With most of the furniture taken and electrical systems stripped, little remains to signify life as it was. It’s a haunting tableau as walls bear witness to the chaos; names of RSF troops left etched, like a graffiti of despair. What was once filled with laughter is now a hollow shell—grief seeping through each crack.
Yet, amid the wreckage, fragments of hope linger. I find a twenty-year-old family photo album and my mother’s rocking chair. Scattered treasures like my university diploma and sibling wedding photographs emerge, covered in grime—but standing resilient. This evidence of what remains symbolizes an enduring spirit.
Despite the ruins, the essence of our Sudanese identity—hospitality and community—shines through. There’s comfort in knowing that the warmth found in swirling laughter, communal meals, and shared stories within these walls can’t simply vanish. It’s this spirit, the heart of our city, that will guide us through the darkness and rebuild what was lost.
The devastation in Khartoum following the RSF’s control presents a stark view of the impacts of war but simultaneously highlights the resilience of its people. Amid the destruction, remnants of family life and connections to community reveal an unwavering spirit. As the city begins to recover, it’s the warmth and togetherness that ultimately will endure and foster rebuilding efforts.
Original Source: news.sky.com
