Six months of the war in Sudan...

...a heavy day, amidst a heavy week.

Subhanallah, folks. This is a heavy newsletter to write.

I spoke last week of falling into despair, and trying to pull myself out of it.

It feels like such a difficult thing to do today, amidst the news of the war crimes in Gaza, the devastating outcome of the Voice referendum, and the six month mark of the senseless war in Sudan.

Instead of wallowing however, I want to use this space to share some of my beautiful home. To find some joy.

Is that possible?

Let me try…

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Any Sudanese you meet will - within minutes - remind you that Sudan has more pyramids than Egypt. Sure, they’re smaller - but does size really matter? ;)

There are more than 200 pyramids in Nuri and Meroe

We have some of the world’s best diving, off Port Sudan’s coast in the Red Sea.

Out the front of most houses, you’ll find clay pots of water and a little metal mug, for the hydration of any passers by. My little brother and I used to fight over who would refill the ‘zeer’ (Sudanese arabic name), as we wanted the rewards for quenching the thirst of a traveler…

typical pots outside a home, often underneath the shade of a tree

A Sudanese potter walks past clay pots in Khartoum, Sudan, on Oct. 20, 2020. Sudanese potters use the clay left by the floods to make clay pots. (Photo by Mohamed Khidir/Xinhua)

I’m thinking about my wedding in Sudan, where we welcomed scores of my friends from around the world to our humble home. I’m thinking of their surprise and joy, the wonder they expressed at the kindness of strangers, the beauty of the landscape. How proud I was that even when the country was on its knees, its people threw their arms open with welcome, laughter and smiles.

And to know that will not be possible again, for years? Ya Allah…

Gosh, I feel so tapped out. I feel so unable to write today, to find coherence among the devastation. I don’t know how to change things for Sudan, and that powerlessness feels paralysing. Six months! To know the conflict we are living through will echo through generations, once again. To feel like there is so little we can do about it.

But… here I am, writing. Here I am, slicing my chest open so you can witness the red, throbbing mess inside, in the hope that moves you to remember us, think of Sudan, hold us in your heart and in your prayers.

I asked folks on twitter, and I will ask you here. What are your joyful experiences with Sudan, or Sudanese people? Share with me, so we can resist with joy, inshallah.

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I’m sharing three Sudanese themed recommendations today. If all you do is watch the video, please do. If you have read the books, let me know!

Salimmik - A Love Letter to Sudan

This is one of my favourite videos about Sudan. It shows you some of the beauty of the landscape and culture, and is also an actual vibe.

Seasons of Migration to the North

One of the classic works of Sudanese literature.

Season of Migration to the North is a rich and sensual work of deep honesty and incandescent lyricism. In 2001 it was selected by a panel of Arab writers and critics as the most important Arab novel of the twentieth century.

River Spirit

A novel written by my aunt, Leila Aboulela. All of her work is incredible, but this book is a historical fiction novel set in the late 1800s, and is simply a must read. The New York Times review says:

At the end of the book, we are left with the weightiest of questions: What do we believe, and what are we willing to sacrifice for those beliefs? If we give up our convictions for safety, what is that safety worth? Where is our moral center, how close to the heart? Aboulela has written a novel of war, love, faith, womanhood and — crucially — the tussle over truthful public narratives. From 19th-century Sudan to present-day America, the questions, in their travel to us, grow only more pressing.

My final recommendation is this video, which I have listened to on repeat this year. It prays for a Sudan without its oppressors. A dream that I hope we can one day live to see, inshallah.

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I will leave you with a thread I posted on twitter, marking this terrible milestone. I am sorry that this newsletter is so heavy, but I thank you always for supporting this work. Inshallah next week, I can return with lighter sentiments.

yassmin_a

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Until next week inshallah,

Yassmin