Al-Sibyan Magazine
Al-Sibyan Magazine
Al-Sibyan Magazine was launched in 1946 at the publishing department of the Institute of Education in Bakht al-Ruda. Managed by Awad Sati, the magazine educated its readers through the meaningful topics and stories it published, and included the wise words in Uncle Saror’s column at the beginning of every issue. Al-Sibyan magazine has always been a favourite with Sudanese children and has a special place in the hearts of its friends and readers.
Al-Sibyan’s friends
Al-Sibyan’s readership ranged from those who read it weekly or those who waited to consume it every month to even those who found dusty old issues stored at home and enjoyed reading all the issues consecutively.
The circle of Al-Sibyan’s friends was not limited to Khartoum, with the magazine reaching friends all around the country’s cities and rural areas. Aunt Zahra's column, ‘Hello Al-Sibyan’s Friends’, included correspondences from children who wrote to greet her, share a photo from their summer holiday, tell a story or joke or to complain that their contributions to the magazine had not been published. Ramadan from Karima town and Al-Tijani from Nyala wrote to Aunt Zahra to share photographs of themselves, while Nabawiya from Al-Diyum wrote to enquire about the magazine’s periodic competition, Suad from Burri shared a paragraph about her hobbies and Makki from Kadugli wrote in just to say hello. The ‘Meeting Friends’ sections of the magazine published anecdotes shared by friends from Omdurman, Kassala, Al-Rahad, Al-Junaid and Shendi.
City themes in the magazine
It is worth mentioning that in addition to the magazine's friends being located across Sudan, Al-Sibyan’s content was also varied and reflected this range and diversity, and as such, every issue contained a story or topic dealing with one of Sudan's districts or cities. For example, Ihsan Al Mubarak wrote about her journey from Khartoum to Kassala, passing through Madani, Gedaref and New Halfa to reach Durrat Al-Sharq in eastern Sudan. Ihsan describes the city's beautiful nature, represented by the Taka Mountains and the fresh water spring of Toteel, and then the city's market, which contained products that were reflective of the rich resources for which the city is famous, such as ropes from palm fronds, daggers, swords, and items of pottery. She then touches on the factories in Kassala and lists some of the factories that produce many local products that are exported abroad. In other issues, we find similar articles about Juba, Kadugli and Kosti and many other cities. The importance of these articles about different cities is not only to describe and inform its readers about them, but to also broaden the children’s perception of a city extending to go beyond their immediate surroundings. The connection between ‘Friends of Al-Sibyan’ and the various cities of Sudan is more than just an exercise of listing city names, it leads to a deeper knowledge of the nature of each city and its inhabitants.
All pictures in this gallery are from Sudan Memory website
Al-Sibyan Magazine was launched in 1946 at the publishing department of the Institute of Education in Bakht al-Ruda. Managed by Awad Sati, the magazine educated its readers through the meaningful topics and stories it published, and included the wise words in Uncle Saror’s column at the beginning of every issue. Al-Sibyan magazine has always been a favourite with Sudanese children and has a special place in the hearts of its friends and readers.
Al-Sibyan’s friends
Al-Sibyan’s readership ranged from those who read it weekly or those who waited to consume it every month to even those who found dusty old issues stored at home and enjoyed reading all the issues consecutively.
The circle of Al-Sibyan’s friends was not limited to Khartoum, with the magazine reaching friends all around the country’s cities and rural areas. Aunt Zahra's column, ‘Hello Al-Sibyan’s Friends’, included correspondences from children who wrote to greet her, share a photo from their summer holiday, tell a story or joke or to complain that their contributions to the magazine had not been published. Ramadan from Karima town and Al-Tijani from Nyala wrote to Aunt Zahra to share photographs of themselves, while Nabawiya from Al-Diyum wrote to enquire about the magazine’s periodic competition, Suad from Burri shared a paragraph about her hobbies and Makki from Kadugli wrote in just to say hello. The ‘Meeting Friends’ sections of the magazine published anecdotes shared by friends from Omdurman, Kassala, Al-Rahad, Al-Junaid and Shendi.
City themes in the magazine
It is worth mentioning that in addition to the magazine's friends being located across Sudan, Al-Sibyan’s content was also varied and reflected this range and diversity, and as such, every issue contained a story or topic dealing with one of Sudan's districts or cities. For example, Ihsan Al Mubarak wrote about her journey from Khartoum to Kassala, passing through Madani, Gedaref and New Halfa to reach Durrat Al-Sharq in eastern Sudan. Ihsan describes the city's beautiful nature, represented by the Taka Mountains and the fresh water spring of Toteel, and then the city's market, which contained products that were reflective of the rich resources for which the city is famous, such as ropes from palm fronds, daggers, swords, and items of pottery. She then touches on the factories in Kassala and lists some of the factories that produce many local products that are exported abroad. In other issues, we find similar articles about Juba, Kadugli and Kosti and many other cities. The importance of these articles about different cities is not only to describe and inform its readers about them, but to also broaden the children’s perception of a city extending to go beyond their immediate surroundings. The connection between ‘Friends of Al-Sibyan’ and the various cities of Sudan is more than just an exercise of listing city names, it leads to a deeper knowledge of the nature of each city and its inhabitants.
All pictures in this gallery are from Sudan Memory website
Al-Sibyan Magazine was launched in 1946 at the publishing department of the Institute of Education in Bakht al-Ruda. Managed by Awad Sati, the magazine educated its readers through the meaningful topics and stories it published, and included the wise words in Uncle Saror’s column at the beginning of every issue. Al-Sibyan magazine has always been a favourite with Sudanese children and has a special place in the hearts of its friends and readers.
Al-Sibyan’s friends
Al-Sibyan’s readership ranged from those who read it weekly or those who waited to consume it every month to even those who found dusty old issues stored at home and enjoyed reading all the issues consecutively.
The circle of Al-Sibyan’s friends was not limited to Khartoum, with the magazine reaching friends all around the country’s cities and rural areas. Aunt Zahra's column, ‘Hello Al-Sibyan’s Friends’, included correspondences from children who wrote to greet her, share a photo from their summer holiday, tell a story or joke or to complain that their contributions to the magazine had not been published. Ramadan from Karima town and Al-Tijani from Nyala wrote to Aunt Zahra to share photographs of themselves, while Nabawiya from Al-Diyum wrote to enquire about the magazine’s periodic competition, Suad from Burri shared a paragraph about her hobbies and Makki from Kadugli wrote in just to say hello. The ‘Meeting Friends’ sections of the magazine published anecdotes shared by friends from Omdurman, Kassala, Al-Rahad, Al-Junaid and Shendi.
City themes in the magazine
It is worth mentioning that in addition to the magazine's friends being located across Sudan, Al-Sibyan’s content was also varied and reflected this range and diversity, and as such, every issue contained a story or topic dealing with one of Sudan's districts or cities. For example, Ihsan Al Mubarak wrote about her journey from Khartoum to Kassala, passing through Madani, Gedaref and New Halfa to reach Durrat Al-Sharq in eastern Sudan. Ihsan describes the city's beautiful nature, represented by the Taka Mountains and the fresh water spring of Toteel, and then the city's market, which contained products that were reflective of the rich resources for which the city is famous, such as ropes from palm fronds, daggers, swords, and items of pottery. She then touches on the factories in Kassala and lists some of the factories that produce many local products that are exported abroad. In other issues, we find similar articles about Juba, Kadugli and Kosti and many other cities. The importance of these articles about different cities is not only to describe and inform its readers about them, but to also broaden the children’s perception of a city extending to go beyond their immediate surroundings. The connection between ‘Friends of Al-Sibyan’ and the various cities of Sudan is more than just an exercise of listing city names, it leads to a deeper knowledge of the nature of each city and its inhabitants.
All pictures in this gallery are from Sudan Memory website
City within a city
City within a city
Recently, and while looking through the tens of pictures I have stored on my laptop, I came across a folder of photos reminding me of the glimpses of the lives my ‘Habesha’ friends had in Khartoum. The pictures were taken during various visits to friends’ homes in Al-Jirayf and Al-Sahafa, both neighbourhoods of Khartoum known for their large populations of Ethiopian and Eritrean migrants. I remember the sense of a city within a city that I had as we walked around Al-Jirayf taking in all the shops and restaurants where Ethiopian and Eritrean food and clothes, perfumes and hair products were on sale with large signs in Amharic displayed across shop doorways. The place felt like a community was being recreated, made coherent through the cultural material goods and objects that were on display and for sale in their new, often temporary home.
Most of the Ethiopians and Eritreans I have met, both inside and outside Sudan, have a fondness for the country; they are descended from the same tribes along shared borders; have passed through the country on their perilous journey to a better life in Europe or America; or they, or other family members, have settled in Khartoum. And while they got on well with ordinary Sudanese people, my friends would often complain about their constant battle with the absurd, and often exploitative encounters they had with the Sudanese police and authorities on the pretext of enforcing immigration rules.
I remembered the Ethiopian Orthodox church in Khartoum 2 whose bells and chanting went on for hours and the crowds of worshippers in their bright white dresses, trouser suits and shawls trooping towards it, children in hand. The Ethiopian street vendors lining the street outside the church with their grains, flours and spices and the many other colourful items laid out on the ground in front of them. And the more austere Protestant Church with their upbeat hymns, a building they shared with Sudanese Protestants from the Nuba mountains.
This was an immigrant population that had created around it a space that was reminiscent of home but which was open to their Sudanese hosts to sample and experience it. Zighni and injera were popularised while the Ethiopian coffee making ceremony, with all the paraphernalia of incense burning and popcorn making and the stools, low table and small coffee cups became a familiar sight.
Since the war, many of the Ethiopians and Eritreans who lived in Al-Jirayf and Al-Sahafa have been forced to leave, either to safer towns like many of the Sudanese, or back to their countries.
The idea of a city within a city, where people recreate ‘their homeland’ in a host country and attempt to practice their cultural heritage is a fluid process. It does not exist in isolation or to the exclusion of others because after all, they are a stone’s throw from their hosts and must adapt and find ways to live alongside them and within the host society. These cities within cities are a source of comfort, to remind them of who they are and where they are from, emphasising the difference between them and the host country but also the similarities and what can be shared.
Cover Picture © Sara Elnagar, showing Ethiopian, Eritrean Cemetary in Al-Sahafa
Recently, and while looking through the tens of pictures I have stored on my laptop, I came across a folder of photos reminding me of the glimpses of the lives my ‘Habesha’ friends had in Khartoum. The pictures were taken during various visits to friends’ homes in Al-Jirayf and Al-Sahafa, both neighbourhoods of Khartoum known for their large populations of Ethiopian and Eritrean migrants. I remember the sense of a city within a city that I had as we walked around Al-Jirayf taking in all the shops and restaurants where Ethiopian and Eritrean food and clothes, perfumes and hair products were on sale with large signs in Amharic displayed across shop doorways. The place felt like a community was being recreated, made coherent through the cultural material goods and objects that were on display and for sale in their new, often temporary home.
Most of the Ethiopians and Eritreans I have met, both inside and outside Sudan, have a fondness for the country; they are descended from the same tribes along shared borders; have passed through the country on their perilous journey to a better life in Europe or America; or they, or other family members, have settled in Khartoum. And while they got on well with ordinary Sudanese people, my friends would often complain about their constant battle with the absurd, and often exploitative encounters they had with the Sudanese police and authorities on the pretext of enforcing immigration rules.
I remembered the Ethiopian Orthodox church in Khartoum 2 whose bells and chanting went on for hours and the crowds of worshippers in their bright white dresses, trouser suits and shawls trooping towards it, children in hand. The Ethiopian street vendors lining the street outside the church with their grains, flours and spices and the many other colourful items laid out on the ground in front of them. And the more austere Protestant Church with their upbeat hymns, a building they shared with Sudanese Protestants from the Nuba mountains.
This was an immigrant population that had created around it a space that was reminiscent of home but which was open to their Sudanese hosts to sample and experience it. Zighni and injera were popularised while the Ethiopian coffee making ceremony, with all the paraphernalia of incense burning and popcorn making and the stools, low table and small coffee cups became a familiar sight.
Since the war, many of the Ethiopians and Eritreans who lived in Al-Jirayf and Al-Sahafa have been forced to leave, either to safer towns like many of the Sudanese, or back to their countries.
The idea of a city within a city, where people recreate ‘their homeland’ in a host country and attempt to practice their cultural heritage is a fluid process. It does not exist in isolation or to the exclusion of others because after all, they are a stone’s throw from their hosts and must adapt and find ways to live alongside them and within the host society. These cities within cities are a source of comfort, to remind them of who they are and where they are from, emphasising the difference between them and the host country but also the similarities and what can be shared.
Cover Picture © Sara Elnagar, showing Ethiopian, Eritrean Cemetary in Al-Sahafa
Recently, and while looking through the tens of pictures I have stored on my laptop, I came across a folder of photos reminding me of the glimpses of the lives my ‘Habesha’ friends had in Khartoum. The pictures were taken during various visits to friends’ homes in Al-Jirayf and Al-Sahafa, both neighbourhoods of Khartoum known for their large populations of Ethiopian and Eritrean migrants. I remember the sense of a city within a city that I had as we walked around Al-Jirayf taking in all the shops and restaurants where Ethiopian and Eritrean food and clothes, perfumes and hair products were on sale with large signs in Amharic displayed across shop doorways. The place felt like a community was being recreated, made coherent through the cultural material goods and objects that were on display and for sale in their new, often temporary home.
Most of the Ethiopians and Eritreans I have met, both inside and outside Sudan, have a fondness for the country; they are descended from the same tribes along shared borders; have passed through the country on their perilous journey to a better life in Europe or America; or they, or other family members, have settled in Khartoum. And while they got on well with ordinary Sudanese people, my friends would often complain about their constant battle with the absurd, and often exploitative encounters they had with the Sudanese police and authorities on the pretext of enforcing immigration rules.
I remembered the Ethiopian Orthodox church in Khartoum 2 whose bells and chanting went on for hours and the crowds of worshippers in their bright white dresses, trouser suits and shawls trooping towards it, children in hand. The Ethiopian street vendors lining the street outside the church with their grains, flours and spices and the many other colourful items laid out on the ground in front of them. And the more austere Protestant Church with their upbeat hymns, a building they shared with Sudanese Protestants from the Nuba mountains.
This was an immigrant population that had created around it a space that was reminiscent of home but which was open to their Sudanese hosts to sample and experience it. Zighni and injera were popularised while the Ethiopian coffee making ceremony, with all the paraphernalia of incense burning and popcorn making and the stools, low table and small coffee cups became a familiar sight.
Since the war, many of the Ethiopians and Eritreans who lived in Al-Jirayf and Al-Sahafa have been forced to leave, either to safer towns like many of the Sudanese, or back to their countries.
The idea of a city within a city, where people recreate ‘their homeland’ in a host country and attempt to practice their cultural heritage is a fluid process. It does not exist in isolation or to the exclusion of others because after all, they are a stone’s throw from their hosts and must adapt and find ways to live alongside them and within the host society. These cities within cities are a source of comfort, to remind them of who they are and where they are from, emphasising the difference between them and the host country but also the similarities and what can be shared.
Cover Picture © Sara Elnagar, showing Ethiopian, Eritrean Cemetary in Al-Sahafa
Habitat of Kordofan
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Habitat of Kordofan
The population of Kordofan is a mixture of diverse ethnicities and tribes. The history of the demographic geography of Kordofan begins with the entry of various residents into the region who came from the west via Libya and Darfur and from the east via the Nile. They settled in this land and mixed with the native inhabitants of the Abbala, Bara, Nuba and other tribes. The city of El Obeid also witnessed another demographic change in the nineteenth century during the Turkish era, with the influx of foreign communities such as Greeks, Levantines, Copts, Indians, and Armenians.
From an economic standpoint, the people of Kordofan can be divided into two parts:
The settlers residing in cities, villages, and neighborhoods (Hilla). They are part of the urban labor, and work in agriculture, gardening, and animal husbandry.
The nomads/pastorals are animal herders such as camels, and they are the ones who specialize in raising and caring for camels. The men travel on bare camels and the women ride in howdahs. There are also the Baggara tribes, which are the tribes who specialize in raising and caring for cows. Men ride bulls, horses, and donkeys, and women also ride howdah-ed bulls. Nomads use several means to transport their food supplies, household equipment, and even the people used to build temporary homes.
The city of El Obeid has changed and developed over the years. The neighborhoods of the old city were fenced pieces of land, inside each corral there was a group of Quttia “huts”, karnaks “kitchens”, Rakuba “open verandas”, and other parts of the house. The city was divided into five areas around the creek that ran in the middle of the city. The current formation of the city occurred during the various periods of rule and colonialism.
The population of Kordofan is a mixture of diverse ethnicities and tribes. The history of the demographic geography of Kordofan begins with the entry of various residents into the region who came from the west via Libya and Darfur and from the east via the Nile. They settled in this land and mixed with the native inhabitants of the Abbala, Bara, Nuba and other tribes. The city of El Obeid also witnessed another demographic change in the nineteenth century during the Turkish era, with the influx of foreign communities such as Greeks, Levantines, Copts, Indians, and Armenians.
From an economic standpoint, the people of Kordofan can be divided into two parts:
The settlers residing in cities, villages, and neighborhoods (Hilla). They are part of the urban labor, and work in agriculture, gardening, and animal husbandry.
The nomads/pastorals are animal herders such as camels, and they are the ones who specialize in raising and caring for camels. The men travel on bare camels and the women ride in howdahs. There are also the Baggara tribes, which are the tribes who specialize in raising and caring for cows. Men ride bulls, horses, and donkeys, and women also ride howdah-ed bulls. Nomads use several means to transport their food supplies, household equipment, and even the people used to build temporary homes.
The city of El Obeid has changed and developed over the years. The neighborhoods of the old city were fenced pieces of land, inside each corral there was a group of Quttia “huts”, karnaks “kitchens”, Rakuba “open verandas”, and other parts of the house. The city was divided into five areas around the creek that ran in the middle of the city. The current formation of the city occurred during the various periods of rule and colonialism.
The population of Kordofan is a mixture of diverse ethnicities and tribes. The history of the demographic geography of Kordofan begins with the entry of various residents into the region who came from the west via Libya and Darfur and from the east via the Nile. They settled in this land and mixed with the native inhabitants of the Abbala, Bara, Nuba and other tribes. The city of El Obeid also witnessed another demographic change in the nineteenth century during the Turkish era, with the influx of foreign communities such as Greeks, Levantines, Copts, Indians, and Armenians.
From an economic standpoint, the people of Kordofan can be divided into two parts:
The settlers residing in cities, villages, and neighborhoods (Hilla). They are part of the urban labor, and work in agriculture, gardening, and animal husbandry.
The nomads/pastorals are animal herders such as camels, and they are the ones who specialize in raising and caring for camels. The men travel on bare camels and the women ride in howdahs. There are also the Baggara tribes, which are the tribes who specialize in raising and caring for cows. Men ride bulls, horses, and donkeys, and women also ride howdah-ed bulls. Nomads use several means to transport their food supplies, household equipment, and even the people used to build temporary homes.
The city of El Obeid has changed and developed over the years. The neighborhoods of the old city were fenced pieces of land, inside each corral there was a group of Quttia “huts”, karnaks “kitchens”, Rakuba “open verandas”, and other parts of the house. The city was divided into five areas around the creek that ran in the middle of the city. The current formation of the city occurred during the various periods of rule and colonialism.
The moving land
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The moving land
What does a city mean? When we asked a resident of Old Haj Yousif if he considered his neighborhood to be a city, he said yes. We asked why, and he said it was because foreigners were now moving into the neighborhood. Haj Yousif was an urban village to the north of Khartoum that was absorbed by the city's urban expansion. I asked the same question to a resident of Alshigailab, another village that the city stretched into in recent years. His answer was that the changing livelihoods of the residents and the replanning of their village made it a city. Governments also have their own ways of deciding what a city is. Usually, the number of residents in one area of land is the key indicator; sometimes it is the types and scale of services, which are also determined by the population density of a particular geographical area. Services are placed to serve a specific catchment area. However, a unanimous understanding of a city is that it’s a fixed piece of land that expands, grows, and changes for various reasons, including sociopolitical changes.
The events of 2024 in Sudan are game-changing. By April 2024, exactly one year after the beginning of the war, over ten million people had been displaced, approximately a quarter of Sudan's entire population, according to IOM estimates. This is the population size of a megacity or twenty or so regular-sized cities. The use of a city as a measurement is critical here, as for cities to exist and be sustained, they require a certain level of infrastructure, capacity, governance, food production, and basic services. Over 80% of the displaced individuals are still within Sudan, integrating into other already extremely undeveloped villages, towns, and small cities. They are straining the capacity of these settlements and threatening the entire country with the largest humanitarian crisis in the world, and a critical state of food security and famine.
Now let's take a different angle and look at the same issue. The majority of the displaced population are urban residents fleeing three of the largest cities in Sudan: Khartoum, Wadi Madani, and Nyala. However, the largest population of Sudan is actually rural, such as farmers and pastoralists. These communities have also been affected by the conflict as the war has disrupted their livelihoods, lifestyles, and routes of movement. However, a comparison between nomadic lifestyle, which involves voluntary movement, and conflict-induced movement is worth mentioning.
Nomads move in large numbers, often accompanied by their livestock, which can cover the area of small settlements. Like the current displaced people, the nomadic populations can also be considered moving pieces of land. Pastoralists have been roaming the earth for centuries, if not millennia. They function to a large extent like a regular fixed settlement, growing and shrinking in size. They have full moving services catered to this number of people and animals, even though the type of required infrastructure for nomadism is obviously different from a settled settlement. They still have medical and environmental experts, routes of movement, housing, and governance.
Communal and customary land laws are a very complicated issue, so it would not be feasible to include them in this writing. However, the land required to house all the needs of nomads will always be there. If we take land use or the right to occupy land for certain amounts of time as a form of temporary ownership, this seasonal ownership that occurs every year for years creates boundaries of customary agreements and encroachments. The use in question and how resources are shared are some of the many originating causes of disagreements. But these frameworks also hold potential answers to current issues. Borrowing frameworks from these lifestyles can help tackle current issues of displacement. How do cities move? What could make a city on four legs? What if people continue to move? How can urban experts learn from the rural?
What does a city mean? When we asked a resident of Old Haj Yousif if he considered his neighborhood to be a city, he said yes. We asked why, and he said it was because foreigners were now moving into the neighborhood. Haj Yousif was an urban village to the north of Khartoum that was absorbed by the city's urban expansion. I asked the same question to a resident of Alshigailab, another village that the city stretched into in recent years. His answer was that the changing livelihoods of the residents and the replanning of their village made it a city. Governments also have their own ways of deciding what a city is. Usually, the number of residents in one area of land is the key indicator; sometimes it is the types and scale of services, which are also determined by the population density of a particular geographical area. Services are placed to serve a specific catchment area. However, a unanimous understanding of a city is that it’s a fixed piece of land that expands, grows, and changes for various reasons, including sociopolitical changes.
The events of 2024 in Sudan are game-changing. By April 2024, exactly one year after the beginning of the war, over ten million people had been displaced, approximately a quarter of Sudan's entire population, according to IOM estimates. This is the population size of a megacity or twenty or so regular-sized cities. The use of a city as a measurement is critical here, as for cities to exist and be sustained, they require a certain level of infrastructure, capacity, governance, food production, and basic services. Over 80% of the displaced individuals are still within Sudan, integrating into other already extremely undeveloped villages, towns, and small cities. They are straining the capacity of these settlements and threatening the entire country with the largest humanitarian crisis in the world, and a critical state of food security and famine.
Now let's take a different angle and look at the same issue. The majority of the displaced population are urban residents fleeing three of the largest cities in Sudan: Khartoum, Wadi Madani, and Nyala. However, the largest population of Sudan is actually rural, such as farmers and pastoralists. These communities have also been affected by the conflict as the war has disrupted their livelihoods, lifestyles, and routes of movement. However, a comparison between nomadic lifestyle, which involves voluntary movement, and conflict-induced movement is worth mentioning.
Nomads move in large numbers, often accompanied by their livestock, which can cover the area of small settlements. Like the current displaced people, the nomadic populations can also be considered moving pieces of land. Pastoralists have been roaming the earth for centuries, if not millennia. They function to a large extent like a regular fixed settlement, growing and shrinking in size. They have full moving services catered to this number of people and animals, even though the type of required infrastructure for nomadism is obviously different from a settled settlement. They still have medical and environmental experts, routes of movement, housing, and governance.
Communal and customary land laws are a very complicated issue, so it would not be feasible to include them in this writing. However, the land required to house all the needs of nomads will always be there. If we take land use or the right to occupy land for certain amounts of time as a form of temporary ownership, this seasonal ownership that occurs every year for years creates boundaries of customary agreements and encroachments. The use in question and how resources are shared are some of the many originating causes of disagreements. But these frameworks also hold potential answers to current issues. Borrowing frameworks from these lifestyles can help tackle current issues of displacement. How do cities move? What could make a city on four legs? What if people continue to move? How can urban experts learn from the rural?
What does a city mean? When we asked a resident of Old Haj Yousif if he considered his neighborhood to be a city, he said yes. We asked why, and he said it was because foreigners were now moving into the neighborhood. Haj Yousif was an urban village to the north of Khartoum that was absorbed by the city's urban expansion. I asked the same question to a resident of Alshigailab, another village that the city stretched into in recent years. His answer was that the changing livelihoods of the residents and the replanning of their village made it a city. Governments also have their own ways of deciding what a city is. Usually, the number of residents in one area of land is the key indicator; sometimes it is the types and scale of services, which are also determined by the population density of a particular geographical area. Services are placed to serve a specific catchment area. However, a unanimous understanding of a city is that it’s a fixed piece of land that expands, grows, and changes for various reasons, including sociopolitical changes.
The events of 2024 in Sudan are game-changing. By April 2024, exactly one year after the beginning of the war, over ten million people had been displaced, approximately a quarter of Sudan's entire population, according to IOM estimates. This is the population size of a megacity or twenty or so regular-sized cities. The use of a city as a measurement is critical here, as for cities to exist and be sustained, they require a certain level of infrastructure, capacity, governance, food production, and basic services. Over 80% of the displaced individuals are still within Sudan, integrating into other already extremely undeveloped villages, towns, and small cities. They are straining the capacity of these settlements and threatening the entire country with the largest humanitarian crisis in the world, and a critical state of food security and famine.
Now let's take a different angle and look at the same issue. The majority of the displaced population are urban residents fleeing three of the largest cities in Sudan: Khartoum, Wadi Madani, and Nyala. However, the largest population of Sudan is actually rural, such as farmers and pastoralists. These communities have also been affected by the conflict as the war has disrupted their livelihoods, lifestyles, and routes of movement. However, a comparison between nomadic lifestyle, which involves voluntary movement, and conflict-induced movement is worth mentioning.
Nomads move in large numbers, often accompanied by their livestock, which can cover the area of small settlements. Like the current displaced people, the nomadic populations can also be considered moving pieces of land. Pastoralists have been roaming the earth for centuries, if not millennia. They function to a large extent like a regular fixed settlement, growing and shrinking in size. They have full moving services catered to this number of people and animals, even though the type of required infrastructure for nomadism is obviously different from a settled settlement. They still have medical and environmental experts, routes of movement, housing, and governance.
Communal and customary land laws are a very complicated issue, so it would not be feasible to include them in this writing. However, the land required to house all the needs of nomads will always be there. If we take land use or the right to occupy land for certain amounts of time as a form of temporary ownership, this seasonal ownership that occurs every year for years creates boundaries of customary agreements and encroachments. The use in question and how resources are shared are some of the many originating causes of disagreements. But these frameworks also hold potential answers to current issues. Borrowing frameworks from these lifestyles can help tackle current issues of displacement. How do cities move? What could make a city on four legs? What if people continue to move? How can urban experts learn from the rural?
Nomadism of the sahel
Nomadism of the sahel
Sudan is part of the Sahel, a distinctive pan-African climate zone that is dry, hot, sunny and watered by seasonal rains; it lies at the northernmost extent of a band of rainfall fed by the distant Atlantic and Indian oceans. A rich variety of cultural traditions have evolved here that work with the landscape and the life it supports.
Communities living in the Sahel work with the climate. Some follow the rain to seasonal pastures where their livestock can graze. Others work with the seasonal rains to grow crops. Both are supported by the natural landscape, and both provide food and goods to exchange at the market and support local craft production.
This collection of documentary films is composed of four documentaries that show the heritage and culture of different nomadic tribes in Darfur and Kordofan, these films has been filmed and produced in 2019 as part of the Western Sudan Community Museums project WSCM which was originally intended to be showcased in 3 museums around Sudan; the Khalifa House Museum in Omdurman, Khartoum, the Sheikan Museum in Obaid, North Kordofan, and the Darfur Museum in Nyala, South Darfur. All films in this collection were produced by Mark Whatmore and Yoho Media.
Baggara Nomads
Archive stills and film of cattle herders in Sudan, also known as Baggara nomads in Kordofan and Darfur, from the Durham University archives, and filmed by Edward Gomer Bollard between 1939 and 1944. The film also shows stills taken by Gunnar Haaland in 1965.
Camel Culture, Darfur.
In this short documentary Mohammed Hussein Daw-Alnoor, a camel breeder from Nyala in Sudan's South Darfur (who is a manager at the Nyala Camel Market), explains the importance of camels in the culture of his tribe, Darfur and nomadic life in general. This video was filmed in Nyala Camel Market, 11/21/2019 By Mark Whatmore.
Life on the move; Darfur's Rezeigat Nomads.
Omda Abakkar Kharif Mattar, a community leader in the Rezeigat Tribe talks about the nomadic life in Darfur, and how nomadic tribes live with nature and animals, he describes the joys and meanings of their lifestyle. Filmed in West of Nyala, 15-20/11/2019 By Mark Whatmore.
Kababish Nomads
A group of camel nomads from the Kababish tribe filmed during their seasonal migration near the Jebel, North west of Bara, in a land covered with red sand dunes, as they were heading towards El Obeid, North Kordofan. On Feb 21. Filmed by Michael Mallinson.
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Sudan is part of the Sahel, a distinctive pan-African climate zone that is dry, hot, sunny and watered by seasonal rains; it lies at the northernmost extent of a band of rainfall fed by the distant Atlantic and Indian oceans. A rich variety of cultural traditions have evolved here that work with the landscape and the life it supports.
Communities living in the Sahel work with the climate. Some follow the rain to seasonal pastures where their livestock can graze. Others work with the seasonal rains to grow crops. Both are supported by the natural landscape, and both provide food and goods to exchange at the market and support local craft production.
This collection of documentary films is composed of four documentaries that show the heritage and culture of different nomadic tribes in Darfur and Kordofan, these films has been filmed and produced in 2019 as part of the Western Sudan Community Museums project WSCM which was originally intended to be showcased in 3 museums around Sudan; the Khalifa House Museum in Omdurman, Khartoum, the Sheikan Museum in Obaid, North Kordofan, and the Darfur Museum in Nyala, South Darfur. All films in this collection were produced by Mark Whatmore and Yoho Media.
Baggara Nomads
Archive stills and film of cattle herders in Sudan, also known as Baggara nomads in Kordofan and Darfur, from the Durham University archives, and filmed by Edward Gomer Bollard between 1939 and 1944. The film also shows stills taken by Gunnar Haaland in 1965.
Camel Culture, Darfur.
In this short documentary Mohammed Hussein Daw-Alnoor, a camel breeder from Nyala in Sudan's South Darfur (who is a manager at the Nyala Camel Market), explains the importance of camels in the culture of his tribe, Darfur and nomadic life in general. This video was filmed in Nyala Camel Market, 11/21/2019 By Mark Whatmore.
Life on the move; Darfur's Rezeigat Nomads.
Omda Abakkar Kharif Mattar, a community leader in the Rezeigat Tribe talks about the nomadic life in Darfur, and how nomadic tribes live with nature and animals, he describes the joys and meanings of their lifestyle. Filmed in West of Nyala, 15-20/11/2019 By Mark Whatmore.
Kababish Nomads
A group of camel nomads from the Kababish tribe filmed during their seasonal migration near the Jebel, North west of Bara, in a land covered with red sand dunes, as they were heading towards El Obeid, North Kordofan. On Feb 21. Filmed by Michael Mallinson.
Sudan is part of the Sahel, a distinctive pan-African climate zone that is dry, hot, sunny and watered by seasonal rains; it lies at the northernmost extent of a band of rainfall fed by the distant Atlantic and Indian oceans. A rich variety of cultural traditions have evolved here that work with the landscape and the life it supports.
Communities living in the Sahel work with the climate. Some follow the rain to seasonal pastures where their livestock can graze. Others work with the seasonal rains to grow crops. Both are supported by the natural landscape, and both provide food and goods to exchange at the market and support local craft production.
This collection of documentary films is composed of four documentaries that show the heritage and culture of different nomadic tribes in Darfur and Kordofan, these films has been filmed and produced in 2019 as part of the Western Sudan Community Museums project WSCM which was originally intended to be showcased in 3 museums around Sudan; the Khalifa House Museum in Omdurman, Khartoum, the Sheikan Museum in Obaid, North Kordofan, and the Darfur Museum in Nyala, South Darfur. All films in this collection were produced by Mark Whatmore and Yoho Media.
Baggara Nomads
Archive stills and film of cattle herders in Sudan, also known as Baggara nomads in Kordofan and Darfur, from the Durham University archives, and filmed by Edward Gomer Bollard between 1939 and 1944. The film also shows stills taken by Gunnar Haaland in 1965.
Camel Culture, Darfur.
In this short documentary Mohammed Hussein Daw-Alnoor, a camel breeder from Nyala in Sudan's South Darfur (who is a manager at the Nyala Camel Market), explains the importance of camels in the culture of his tribe, Darfur and nomadic life in general. This video was filmed in Nyala Camel Market, 11/21/2019 By Mark Whatmore.
Life on the move; Darfur's Rezeigat Nomads.
Omda Abakkar Kharif Mattar, a community leader in the Rezeigat Tribe talks about the nomadic life in Darfur, and how nomadic tribes live with nature and animals, he describes the joys and meanings of their lifestyle. Filmed in West of Nyala, 15-20/11/2019 By Mark Whatmore.
Kababish Nomads
A group of camel nomads from the Kababish tribe filmed during their seasonal migration near the Jebel, North west of Bara, in a land covered with red sand dunes, as they were heading towards El Obeid, North Kordofan. On Feb 21. Filmed by Michael Mallinson.
A bed
A bed
The meaning of home is something that gets contested a lot in times of war, what people leave behind and what they take with them as tokens of the homes they left can give glimpses to what really matters. A bed which is one of the most intimate parts of the house is a symbol of comfort and hospitality, being offered a bed to sleep is a common gesture in Sudanese households.
What is private and what is public also changes, as people share housing with others and sleep in public areas that others will try to treat as private.
The most common type of beds in Sudan is the Angareeb, a wood-framed low bed that is weaved by different types of materials. The Angareeb is a key element in various cultural events and rituals such as weddings and funerals, it has been part of the culture since the Bronze Age of the Kerma culture from 1750-1550 BC, where it was used to bury people at the time.
Wooden frame of a bed; bull-hoof feet from the New Kingdom, Purchased through: Sir Ernest A T Wallis Budge in 1887
The angareb is quite practical it could be used with or without a mattress, it’s light-weight and can be carried by one person, that’s why it’s rarely considered a fixed piece of furniture, beds get pulled out of the shade during the summer evenings in northern sudan to the yard so families sleep and spend the evenings in the cool air, angareb can be seen tied to the side of the truck and in shop fronts where the streets become the sleeping rooms for many travelers. In weddings homes the beds become drying racks for dishes and a surface for many uses.
Leather pillow or cushion. Hourglass-shaped with black and orange inserts on either side to expand the shape. Decorated with orange and black leather embroidery on one face.
Sudan; Darfur
Arkell, Anthony John [field collector and donor]
Cultural Affliation: Fellata Ibbe; nomad Felani; Baggara
1937
The bed is the first thing that gets assembled and then the tent is built around it in nomadic settlements, the concept of privacy is key as bed are placed in the most private part of the house, while the front side of the tent as well as the surroundings of the tent are used for other household activities. The beds are usually higher than the regular angareeb to provide more privacy, and it’s size take a dominant presence in the tent.
A group of women from the Umbararro Tribe in Niyala demonstrate how a tent is built 2020 © Zainab Gaafar
2 Photographic prints (black and white); 1. showing an array of woven baskets (kerio and omra) behind is a bed (sarir) in a tent. Umm Korara, South Darfur. 2. showing a camel palanquin and bed outside a tent.
May 1981
Photographed in: Darfur, Umm Korara
Paul Wilson notes this is one of a group of photographs taken at Umm Korara near Rajaj; camp of Shaykh Muhammad Sayara Abu Zakariyya [Rizaygat Jammala]. 1. "Centre is a 'sarir' [bed, called by Jammala 'hiddit'; by the Baggara itis called 'darangal', and by the Fellata 'darangal', 'layso' or 'fel'] It consists of strips of bamboo bound with leather, resting a foot above ground on sticks. Behind the bed by the tent canvas are a number of baskets - kerio + omra". 2. "Centre is shibriya or jifah - palanquin. In front of this is the 'sarir'/ 'darangal' bed".
See Collection File Af1981,18.1-70.
Representation of: Rizayqat
The meaning of home is something that gets contested a lot in times of war, what people leave behind and what they take with them as tokens of the homes they left can give glimpses to what really matters. A bed which is one of the most intimate parts of the house is a symbol of comfort and hospitality, being offered a bed to sleep is a common gesture in Sudanese households.
What is private and what is public also changes, as people share housing with others and sleep in public areas that others will try to treat as private.
The most common type of beds in Sudan is the Angareeb, a wood-framed low bed that is weaved by different types of materials. The Angareeb is a key element in various cultural events and rituals such as weddings and funerals, it has been part of the culture since the Bronze Age of the Kerma culture from 1750-1550 BC, where it was used to bury people at the time.
Wooden frame of a bed; bull-hoof feet from the New Kingdom, Purchased through: Sir Ernest A T Wallis Budge in 1887
The angareb is quite practical it could be used with or without a mattress, it’s light-weight and can be carried by one person, that’s why it’s rarely considered a fixed piece of furniture, beds get pulled out of the shade during the summer evenings in northern sudan to the yard so families sleep and spend the evenings in the cool air, angareb can be seen tied to the side of the truck and in shop fronts where the streets become the sleeping rooms for many travelers. In weddings homes the beds become drying racks for dishes and a surface for many uses.
Leather pillow or cushion. Hourglass-shaped with black and orange inserts on either side to expand the shape. Decorated with orange and black leather embroidery on one face.
Sudan; Darfur
Arkell, Anthony John [field collector and donor]
Cultural Affliation: Fellata Ibbe; nomad Felani; Baggara
1937
The bed is the first thing that gets assembled and then the tent is built around it in nomadic settlements, the concept of privacy is key as bed are placed in the most private part of the house, while the front side of the tent as well as the surroundings of the tent are used for other household activities. The beds are usually higher than the regular angareeb to provide more privacy, and it’s size take a dominant presence in the tent.
A group of women from the Umbararro Tribe in Niyala demonstrate how a tent is built 2020 © Zainab Gaafar
2 Photographic prints (black and white); 1. showing an array of woven baskets (kerio and omra) behind is a bed (sarir) in a tent. Umm Korara, South Darfur. 2. showing a camel palanquin and bed outside a tent.
May 1981
Photographed in: Darfur, Umm Korara
Paul Wilson notes this is one of a group of photographs taken at Umm Korara near Rajaj; camp of Shaykh Muhammad Sayara Abu Zakariyya [Rizaygat Jammala]. 1. "Centre is a 'sarir' [bed, called by Jammala 'hiddit'; by the Baggara itis called 'darangal', and by the Fellata 'darangal', 'layso' or 'fel'] It consists of strips of bamboo bound with leather, resting a foot above ground on sticks. Behind the bed by the tent canvas are a number of baskets - kerio + omra". 2. "Centre is shibriya or jifah - palanquin. In front of this is the 'sarir'/ 'darangal' bed".
See Collection File Af1981,18.1-70.
Representation of: Rizayqat
The meaning of home is something that gets contested a lot in times of war, what people leave behind and what they take with them as tokens of the homes they left can give glimpses to what really matters. A bed which is one of the most intimate parts of the house is a symbol of comfort and hospitality, being offered a bed to sleep is a common gesture in Sudanese households.
What is private and what is public also changes, as people share housing with others and sleep in public areas that others will try to treat as private.
The most common type of beds in Sudan is the Angareeb, a wood-framed low bed that is weaved by different types of materials. The Angareeb is a key element in various cultural events and rituals such as weddings and funerals, it has been part of the culture since the Bronze Age of the Kerma culture from 1750-1550 BC, where it was used to bury people at the time.
Wooden frame of a bed; bull-hoof feet from the New Kingdom, Purchased through: Sir Ernest A T Wallis Budge in 1887
The angareb is quite practical it could be used with or without a mattress, it’s light-weight and can be carried by one person, that’s why it’s rarely considered a fixed piece of furniture, beds get pulled out of the shade during the summer evenings in northern sudan to the yard so families sleep and spend the evenings in the cool air, angareb can be seen tied to the side of the truck and in shop fronts where the streets become the sleeping rooms for many travelers. In weddings homes the beds become drying racks for dishes and a surface for many uses.
Leather pillow or cushion. Hourglass-shaped with black and orange inserts on either side to expand the shape. Decorated with orange and black leather embroidery on one face.
Sudan; Darfur
Arkell, Anthony John [field collector and donor]
Cultural Affliation: Fellata Ibbe; nomad Felani; Baggara
1937
The bed is the first thing that gets assembled and then the tent is built around it in nomadic settlements, the concept of privacy is key as bed are placed in the most private part of the house, while the front side of the tent as well as the surroundings of the tent are used for other household activities. The beds are usually higher than the regular angareeb to provide more privacy, and it’s size take a dominant presence in the tent.
A group of women from the Umbararro Tribe in Niyala demonstrate how a tent is built 2020 © Zainab Gaafar
2 Photographic prints (black and white); 1. showing an array of woven baskets (kerio and omra) behind is a bed (sarir) in a tent. Umm Korara, South Darfur. 2. showing a camel palanquin and bed outside a tent.
May 1981
Photographed in: Darfur, Umm Korara
Paul Wilson notes this is one of a group of photographs taken at Umm Korara near Rajaj; camp of Shaykh Muhammad Sayara Abu Zakariyya [Rizaygat Jammala]. 1. "Centre is a 'sarir' [bed, called by Jammala 'hiddit'; by the Baggara itis called 'darangal', and by the Fellata 'darangal', 'layso' or 'fel'] It consists of strips of bamboo bound with leather, resting a foot above ground on sticks. Behind the bed by the tent canvas are a number of baskets - kerio + omra". 2. "Centre is shibriya or jifah - palanquin. In front of this is the 'sarir'/ 'darangal' bed".
See Collection File Af1981,18.1-70.
Representation of: Rizayqat
Sikka: A history of return
Sikka: A history of return
The images in this gallery are from Locale's contribution to the book Sudan Retold, among 31 Sudanese artists who tell stories from their homeland. The book was published in 2019 by Hirnkost. Edited by Larissa-Diana Fuhrmann and Khalid Albaih.
The images in this gallery are from Locale's contribution to the book Sudan Retold, among 31 Sudanese artists who tell stories from their homeland. The book was published in 2019 by Hirnkost. Edited by Larissa-Diana Fuhrmann and Khalid Albaih.
The images in this gallery are from Locale's contribution to the book Sudan Retold, among 31 Sudanese artists who tell stories from their homeland. The book was published in 2019 by Hirnkost. Edited by Larissa-Diana Fuhrmann and Khalid Albaih.