Darfurian IDPs in Khartoum: A Painful Narrative of a Struggle for Survival

Sudan, Africa’s once-largest nation, has been ravaged by civil war and famine for nearly two decades. In war-torn Darfur, 400,000 civilians have reportedly been killed since the violence erupted in early 2003. Today, almost one third of the population are internally displaced and the killing continues. While many of the survivors flee the violence in their villages and arrive at camps for internally displaced persons (IDP camps), their lives remain in danger. UN studies reveal that even though IDP camps are potentially safer than villages under attack by government-supported Janjaweed, mortality rates are alarmingly higher than the emergency benchmark.

IDP camps in Khartoum

Khartoum, Sudan’s capital is a hotchpotch of wealth and poverty that is veiled with crime and frustration. As the city significantly began expanding over the last three decades, settlements, often unregulated, began forming. A sizeable number of IDPs are living in the camps located in the cities of Khartoum, Khartoum North and Omdurman.

Many migrants and IDPs traditionally use relatives as an entry point into Khartoum, as a means of social protection and support to secure employment. Others settle in unfinished buildings and construction sites. IDPs and poor migrants have concentrated in particular areas throughout Khartoum. Four sites – Wad al-Bashir, Dar al-Salam, Jebel Awlia and Mayo Farm are officially designated as IDP camps, in addition to several unplanned areas which the authorities regard as squatter settlements, such as al-Haj Yousif, Soba, Abu Zeid, al-Fatih City, al-Bugaah and Marzoug.

The raw and intricate history of camps and irregular sites in Khartoum is notably manifested in the names given to these locations by their communities. Examples include ‘Jabarona’ (we were forced to), ‘Karor’ (rubbish), ‘Zagalona’ (they threw us), ‘Duyum Bahri’ (the ghettos/hood of Bahri), ‘Eshash Fellata’ (shanky houses of the fellata, a communal Sudanese term for West African tribes).

The camps are filled with men, women and children from Darfur, South Sudan, Nuba Mountains, South Kordofan, Blue Nile and other parts of Sudan. Lacking education and skills in an alien land with dissimilar culture and religion, IDPs often find it challenging to eke out a living. Constantly fearing relocation and having no consistent income, some of them are forced to resort to criminal activities ranging from petty thefts, boot legging, extortion and at times, violent crimes.

Harsh living conditions

In 2005, a group of IDPs arrived in Khartoum North and set up camp at an abandoned area overlooking the Nile. They made houses out of bamboo sticks, hay and mud, cartons and sugar sacks, and called their new home al-Jazeera (The Island). Much of the settlement is based on improvisation, and the houses are not distributed evenly – each house is adjacent to the other, with little or no spaces in between. 60-year-old Hajja Gisma, an inhabitant of al-Jazeera told her story.

“I came here with my two daughters and their children four years ago after my husband and son-in-law were both killed by the Janjaweed in Darfur. When we first arrived in al-Jazeera, we were told there were hundreds of IDPs who lived here before us but the government forced them out without offering them any sort of compensation. Now, we live in constant fear that the same will happen to us.

“My daughters look after the children during the day while I’m at work. I don’t have a steady job; every day I go door-to-door and ask home owners if they want any cleaning done. Sometimes, I sweep staircases of apartment buildings and get paid a reasonable amount of money, and other times I go back home empty handed. A week can pass by without us having any food on the table, and the children often go to bed starving. If things get really bad, we send the children out to beg for food.

“If the children get sick, we improvise using traditional home remedies like ‘garadh’ (an antibiotic plant commonly used for medical purposes).

We have no electricity or running water, and nor do we have warm clothes or blankets. When winter arrives we freeze through the night, particularly since the Nile is a stone throw away from us. During rainy season, the houses often get flooded and we have to rebuild them using whatever material we can get our hands on.”

‘Disguised discrimination’

Sudan is rife with tribalism and, even though not institutionalized, acts of discrimination are often practiced by the government. Government job hopefuls, national service recruits and average civilians applying for the National identification (ID) number are required to state the name of their tribe in their applications. The root of tribalism in Sudan can be traced back to the pre-independence era when tribal groups (including African and Asian races) found it difficult to coexist and slave trade was prevalent. Additonally, there’s a virtual hierarchy - discrimination is based upon, superiority of tribes on the basis of skin shade or ‘Arabism’.

“Back home, conditions were dire. I managed to flee with my family when I was 16, and I even attended college and graduated,” remarked 23-year-old Narjis.

“I live in a tiny house with my parents and nine siblings. We have two bedrooms with mattresses as the only furniture, a kitchen and a tap-less bathroom. I was my family’s only hope since my dad is ill and my mother is too old to be working. While I was in high school, she worked as a tea seller. After enrolling in college, she stayed home while I simultaneously studied and worked odd jobs to support the family.

“Upon graduation, I was eager to look for a job with a steady income so I can fulfil my dream of providing my family with a better life. I’ve been searching for a job for two years now, and am back to doing odd jobs. I sell peanuts and candy, while my mom is back at her old job. At the end of each month, we both hand in almost all of our salary to the owner of the grocery shop next to our house because we buy our groceries on credit.

“Even though I’m qualified with a degree in education, no one wants to hire me because of my ethnic background. They take one look at my last name and my application is immediately rejected. I fled a region of war that’s sparked by tribalism, but here I am again, in the capital, face-to-face with it once again,” she recounted.

Munzoul Assal, Associate Professor of Social Anthropology and the director of Graduates Affairs at the University of Khartoum has recently published a case study on urbanization and vulnerability in Sudan. He noted that from the very start, the government has been preventing Darfurian IDPs from settling in official camps, adding that the way the government looks at the Darfur situation is very discouraging.

“For Darfurian IDPs, this has great implications on their living conditions. If they lack recognized housing, NGOs can’t locate them and provide them with healthcare and other services. As for employment, hundreds of thousands of Sudanese civilians are jobless, so it makes sense that IDPs are in a more precarious situation, especially the males. They have virtually no chance of getting jobs.There’s a high level of discrimination that can’t be tackled in a concrete way, the whole system is based on favouritism and corruption. Even though the law prohibits all sources of discrimination, officials duck behind formal procedures and subject people to discrimination,” commented Assal.

Deprived of aid and marginalized

In 2009, after the International Criminal Court issued a warrant of arrest for Sudanese president Omar al-Bashir, charging him with crimes of genocide and crimes against humanity; the al Bashir’s National Congress Party (NCP) expelled 13 of the world’s most distinguished humanitarian organizations in Darfur in retaliation. These organizations were providing the IDPs with water, food, medicine, health services and other essential life-saving materials, and their expulsion marked a big rift in the IDPs lives.

Additionally, IDP Camps in Darfur have witnessed an increasing spread of HIV/AIDS due to the lack of proper health education and training along with prevalent gender violence. With the Janjaweed militias incessantly patrolling around the camps of Darfur, IDPs remained imprisoned and unable to look for work for fear of being arrested or harassed.

After the expulsion of the aid agencies, local NGOs found themselves faced with the challenge of acting as a replacement for the IDPs. However, their lack of funding and the hurdles they often encounter make these local aid agencies ill equipped and in no way a match for the ones that the government deported.

“After the Doha Peace Agreement, Darfurian IDPs became more marginalized than ever. People started to forget about them. Today, nobody knows what they’re going through,” said Munzoul.

This article was first published here

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Free Alim!

Over the past couple of years, the Sudanese government illegally detained many political activists, opposition party members, anti-NCP revolutionaries, students and journalists who spoke up against injustice. What happens to these detainees at national security prisons or “Ghost Houses” is incomprehensible and beyond any sane person’s mental capacity.

As many Sudanese people frequently choose to ignore such cases and go on about their daily lives in a state of denial, one case that indubitably deserves their attention is the case of Mohamed Hassan Alim, better known as Boushi.

Mohamed Hassan Alim, aka Boushi

In mid-December, Alim stood in front of a podium at the University of Khartoum and courageously confronted Nafie Ali Nafie for his crimes against the Sudanese people. He spoke up for you, me and the millions of Sudanese citizens who are struggling day to day to put bread on the table, find jobs and live a well-deserved respectful life. He voiced some of the frustrations we are facing because of the current government, and confronted Nafie and co for their corruption.

For three majestic minutes, Alim was the voice of every oppressed Sudanese person who ever endured a hardship in their life while watching the government privilege its own members and their families by generously offering them money, jobs, and perks earned with the blood and sweat of the average Sudanese people like they were theirs to give.

On December 26, 2011 Alim was arrested from his home while his mother watched as the police took him. He was taken to an undisclosed location and remains in the custody of national security.

Alim is a regular Sudanese citizen, like you and me, with a degree in Engineering who has been struggling for the past four years to find a job despite his qualifications. Like you and me, he is frustrated, fed up, angry. Unlike you and me, he fought his powerlessness and converted it into heroism by challenging the government and voicing what you, me and millions of Sudanese people are feeling but are unable to express.

"Freedom for Boushi". The NCP made a weak attempt to conceal the statement

Despite being arrested and tortured several times by national security, Alim always dusted himself off and fought back. His last attempt earned him another arrest, but it also earned him the eyes and ears of regular Sudanese citizens. The video where he confronted Nafie received over 230,000 views on YouTube and circulated all over Facebook and Twitter. A Facebook page was created in solidarity with him and has over 1,000 members.

There was no statement explaining the arrest of Alim; but we can only guess that his speech angered Nafie and other high profile governmental officials.

Alim’s freedom is our demand, and his blood is not only in Nafie’s hands, it’s in ours as well if we don’t speak up and demand his protection and his immediate release.

In a world where chivalry is dead and cowardice is spread like a viral disease, Alim stands out and is labeled Sudan’s Bouazizi.

The issues Alim took up with Nafie relate to corruption and favoritism… does this earn him an abduction and justify why his mother has to suffer not knowing his whereabouts, what is being done to him and if he will ever be released?

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How to lose a dictator in 10 steps

Tired of your dictator? Jealous of other countries dumping theirs and creating a new relationship with democracy?

In the wake of the new year and Sudan's independence day, I found it fitting to write a post explaining the 10 basic steps that are crucial for losing your dictator.

Now remember, getting rid of your dictator is no easy task, particularly if you have been in a relationship for over 22 years. He will act clingy, throw fits and bargain with you, but you mustn't back out under any circumstances. Make sure you follow the following steps thoroughly to guarantee the best results.

1- "I have seen better dance moves" is a good way to get the argument going. If there is one thing your dictator is confident of, it's his dance moves. Question that and you got yourself one shaken and flustered dictator.

2- Often bring up the fact that he is wanted by an international criminal court and argue along the lines of how you'd be better off with someone without a criminal record.

3- During a heated argument, threaten to side with any of the opposition parties.

4- Make regular hurtful comments about how unmoved and unimpressed you are by his most recent improvised speech and claim that it featured staged enthusiastic cheers and applause.

5- Often suggest that the ja3al tribe is inferior to any other tribe of your choosing.

6- Question the judgment of his cabinet and demand he replaces it with a new, more experienced one.

7- Use the term 'al7as koo3ak' (lick your elbow) very loosely and every time your dictator thinks he said something smart like 'ma dayreen jaghmasat adyan'.

8- Recognize Nubians, Darfurians and other marginalized people as real Sudanese people and not 21st century slaves.

9- Send 10,000 sheep to Obama and ask the US government to turn a new leaf and lift the sanctions imposed on your country.

10- Issue visas for Obama, Ocampo, the former Kenyan ambassador and all previously expelled NGOs to Sudan and insist they crash at your dictator's presidential palace.

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Take my baby, I insist!

We’ve all heard of couples who can’t have kids of their own adopting babies. The adopted babies are often orphans, and sometimes they’re abandoned by their own mothers who give them away to escape the social stigma of giving birth out of wedlock (disgusting but factual).

A relative of mine, let’s call her Filana, has been married for 10 years. She and her husband, Filan, have been trying to get pregnant for years but haven’t had any luck. Finally, they decided to adopt a child. Last year, when she asked for my opinion, I was so excited and suggested we go together to the Mygoma Orphanage where she can take one of the kids home with her. I also suggested that we first visit a farm that I used to volunteer at, conveniently located at a walking distance from my house, where the Mygoma kids are often sent to receive hippotherapy. There, I told her, she can meet the children, interact with them and make a final decision whether or not she wants to go through with this. I was certain that one look at these beautiful children will be enough to prompt Filana to take one home with her.

A few weeks later, there was a buzz about Filana and Filan finally adopting a baby girl. As predicted, family members’ reactions ranged between approving and critical. I thought that Filana may have gone to the Mygoma without me, nevertheless I was very thrilled for her and her husband. They were finally going to be happy.

After a few days passed, I met Filana at a family gathering and she introduced me to Filana, Jr., an adorable baby girl she was feeding milk to out of a bottle. She looked too tiny, may have been 1-month old. I started a conversation with her enquiring about her experience.

Me: So, how was it at the orphanage? Your first time, wasn’t it? It must’ve been really emotional for you. It can’t be easy having to choose which child you will end up giving a home to while leaving the rest behind. Picking out one baby out of hundreds, I can’t imagine the agony of it…

Filana: Oh, it wasn’t that bad. I was even luckier than I thought. I didn’t even have to go to this orphanage you always talk about.

Me: I see, did you go to another orphanage?

Filana: Actually, Filana, Jr. is my husband’s niece. Her biological father, Faloon, is my husband’s brother. His wife was pregnant, and they already had three girls. Faloon promised my husband that if his wife delivers a fourth girl this time, he will give her to us. Alhamdulillah, it was a girl and Faloon kept his word. She is ours now.

Me *flabbergasted*: Mabrook ya Hinaya. I mean ya Filana.

I went home that day with three thoughts consuming my head, in addition to the huge “WTF” that accompanied me for days to come.

1) Ordinary people give away their babies now? Perfectly healthy babies who are their own flesh and blood? And for what? For common courtesy? Is this a whole new level of Sudanese hospitality? Did the lady go, “God has blessed me with three little ones already, you need this one more than I do... take my baby, I insist!” Did Faloon tell his brother, “Wallahi as long as I’m alive and breathing, and have a kid to spare, you won’t set foot in that orphanage... take my baby, I insist!”

2) What about the hundreds of babies at the Mygoma Orphanage? What about babies left at the gate of the orphanage and others found on the streets? Do they know how many of the 1,500 abandoned babies every year end up surviving and how many die? Was there a lack in children who needed a home, food and clothing that prompted Filana and her husband to resort to taking a baby who already had a family?

3) What about Filana, Jr.? Won't she resent her parents for giving her away, even if to her own uncle? How confused will her life be, having an uncle for a father and a father for an uncle? How will she explain this to her friends growing up? What about her three sisters, is seeing them once a week the same as growing up with them, playing with them, having them around? How unfair is this to her?

While some of you may think it was Filana’s right to opt for the baby with the less complications and the unstained reputation who will not cause her and her husband any problems in the future given its origin, I, on the other hand, ask you this: when did beggars become choosers? And why is it okay for this to happen? How messed up must our community be to accept for a mother to give her child away to a stranger, and reject for another childless woman dying to become a mother to take in an illegitimate child? Why is the former considered a heroine and the latter a crazy b****? And how messed up must we be to abide by these messed up rules that can in no way be traced to religion?

What we need to do is grow up, stand up for what we believe in and fight these hypocritical laws, instead of robotically following them in order to conform, wanting so badly to be accepted by a society that puts blame on innocent children whose only fault is being born into a cruel, cruel world.

Note to Sudanese unmarried couples having unprotected sex: Either use protection, practice abstinence or move to another country that has more tolerance for illegitimate babies.

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Sudan, I love you.. but you're taking a toll on me [3]

During my student years, I came to learn so much about the do’s and dont’s of Sudanese culture, the customs and traditions, the taboos. I found so many things fascinating, others inexplicable... weddings and funerals perplexed me the most.

Why a bride had to take a sip of milk only to squirt it on her groom’s face while dressed in a dazzling red toab, sporting gold pharaoh-like accessories with too many women to count chanting and spraying the bride and groom with a powerful choke-inducing fragrance and diffusing the area with piquant frankincense baffled me.

And why women arrive at funerals with freshly-painted henna on their hands and feet, wearing the most kaleidoscopic toab in their wardrobe, and others conveniently schedule their condolence visitations with meal times, expecting the family of the deceased to serve them food and flavored tea, with some neighbors and distant relatives wailing, screeching and rolling on the floor theatrically in the background and others creating low-frequency ‘eee’ noises in an attempt to express their fake sympathy bemused me as well.

Perhaps what amazed me the most was the widespread sihir (black magic/witchcraft) phenomenon. During my first semester in university, a sheikh came in to give a lecture (I had no idea what it was about but attended anyway). He started off by addressing the large existence of sihir in our community, after which he began reciting a few verses of the Quran. To my astonishment, almost a quarter of the students in the lecture room (mind you it was a spacious room) began screaming, crying, and others laughing… it was weird, and scary. [I later on learned that those who reacted weirdly when the sihir verses were recited were possessed. Needless to say I memorized their faces and made minimal contact with them until graduation. An awkward five years it was.]

Not to scare you with the details, because they actually are pretty scary, but after some time had passed and I had witnessed a series of bizarre events I started believing in this stuff. If you’ve lived in Sudan for some time, you know what I’m talking about. Many cultures (and religions) including the Sudanese, know the ain (evil/envious eye) the mas (satanic possession) and the sihir to exist. I have heard one too many stories on each of the three, many of them if I may add were a tad exaggerated. But yeah, after my incredible fright had been lifted I started attending exorcism sessions with friends and family members where some weird s*** took place. [Those of you who don’t know this, there’s a sheikh/exorcist clinic, for lack of a better word, at every corner in the streets of Khartoum. Some of them are legit and their treatment involves reciting Quran, and others are dajjaleen (fake sheikhs/fake exorcists) who ask you to pronounce a bunch of words backwards, wear odd talismans, place pieces of paper with matrices and unidentified letters on them in weird places and make you sniff some unusual incents.]

So apparently it’s a trend to get sihir done on someone these days (okay these practices date way back) if you hate them, or even love them. There’s the local dajjal who, for a little bit of money, will help you marry that girl you’ve always had a crush on but never gave you the time of day. And that girl you’ve always been envious of, you know, the one with the perfect hair and the perfect boyfriend and the perfect grades. If you’re tired of seeing her lead her perfect little life, you can visit your local dajjal and bring it to an end. [I may be using sarcasm but I’m serious about these things happening, but more on 'black magic in Sudan' later, will be dedicating a whole blog post for that soon. Follow my blog you won't regret it, I will post some very interesting stories that may render you too freaked out to sleep at night.]

Anyway.

Even though I hate so many things that exist in Sudan, such as unnecessary funeral traditions that involve wailing, overspending in weddings, smelly black stuff and weak-hearted people who like to harm others using dajal, there’s still so much more to Sudan to be absolutely adored. Sure, each culture has its flaws, Sudan included… but you can’t deny the awesomeness of Sudan (especially when the weather’s under 50 degrees).

I love how we are so hospitable, to a disgusting degree sometimes... I love that our people always come together, even if it’s usually over a plate of fool (large amount of sesame oil served with cooked beans, some onions/tomatoes and a hint of feta cheese) which we love so much… I love that when it’s cloudy outside every leap year we pretend like we live in Paris… I love that we have traditions that no other country does, such as dipping drinking cups in a bucket and scooping some aradaib juice on a Ramadan eve and adding four spoons of sugar to a tiny-sized cup of tea… Most importantly, I love Bish Bish and his sweet dance moves.

So don’t bother yourself with the ugly things, such as sandstorms that render your house and ears dust-ridden, smelly black stuff spat out on every street corner, strangers who cost you two hours of your time because their manhood won't allow them to say 'I don't know' when asked for directions, that relative who only visits during lunch time, your president embarrassing you in front of other nations, that neighbor who wakes you up every morning to mooch off some tea/sugar/milk/you name it, that Egyptian guy who always asks you why Sudanese people are so lazy, your president embarrassing you in front of other nations, the price of meat going up so you switch to fish, the price of oil going up so you can't have fish because boiled fish is gross and instead switch to yogurt with bread, the price of bread going up so you only eat yogurt, the price of oxygen rising by 30% so you hold your breath 30% of the day, your country dividing into two, that old lady who always nags you to get married, sugar-free tea, oil-less fool, your president embarrassing you in front of other nations, hideous overpriced furniture, Sudanese state television. Instead, embrace the beauty that is Sudan, embrace your Sudani-ness... Give a laidback smile and ask that Egyptian guy why his country doesn't have a dancing president (or a president at all).. :)

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At The Heart of Sufism (Part 2): The Influences of Sufism in Sudanese Life

The village of Um Dawan Ban, 40 km from Khartoum, is deemed to be an ideal example of a Sufi region. Over 165 years ago, sheikh al-Ebaid Wad Badur, a Sufi of the al-Qadiriyya order, founded the village and spread the teachings of Sufism to the locals.

According to the city's residents, Wad Badur was travelling with his colleague in order to teach the Quran, when the two men stumbled upon the village, whose inhabitants treated them with great hospitality. It is recorded that upon dreaming that he was setting up a khalwa (solitary retreat) there, Wad Badur set up a khalwa the next day.

He is believed to have lit a fire inside his newly-established khalwa to help him read the Quran, and arrivals and convoys at night used the fire’s light for guidance. The village was then named Um Dawan Ban (where the light has shown). Nowadays, it is also commonly referred to as the Village of Quran due to the reputation of Wad Badur’s khalwa being a beacon for teaching the Quran.

Sufism and Politics

The Sufi orders in Sudan played significant roles in the country’s social, economic, cultural and political spheres. In some instances, Sufi orders have a history of transforming themselves into political forces.

The Turco-Egyptian invasion of 1820 was motivated by the desire of Muhammad Ali Pasha—the Viceroy of Egypt—to seize control of the wealth of Sudan. At the end of the Funj state’s reign and the beginning of the Turco-Egyptian rule in Sudan in 1821, Sudan entered a new political era. During this era, Sudan was introduced to various Sufi orders with the aid of the Egyptian rulers to give the new reign a religious zest and to guarantee the Sudanese people’s loyalty to Muhammad Ali Pasha. Pasha encouraged many new orders from Egypt to emerge in Sudan including the al-Saadiyya, al-Rahmaniyya, al-Badawiyya and al-Desoqiyya orders. In fact, Pasha’s policy in Sudan was based on strengthening ties between Egypt and Sudan, so he encouraged these orders to spread and take root, believing that religious propaganda is the easiest way to appeal to the masses of Sudan.

In 1881, the Turco-Egyptian regime was overthrown by a religious revolution, instigated by the al-Mahdiyya, who revolted due to harsh economic measures. The Mahdist state ruled Sudan until it was destroyed by an Anglo-Egyptian force in 1898.

Perhaps the strong influence of Sufism in Sudanese life is what prompted most regimes and political powers to exploit it in order to win political battles. In actuality, the emergence of traditional political parties in Sudan is associated with this arrangement, where the Democratic Unionist Party is an offshoot of the al-Mirghaniyya order, and the Ummah Party of the al-Mahdiyya order.

Moreover, the men of Sufi orders in Sudan have been involved in numerous aspects of modern life, and many of them and their children worked in state institutions and some of them even became counselors, ministers and ambassadors. Others excelled in academic life, such as sheikh Hassan al-Fatih Gariballah of the al-Samaniyya order, who went on to earn a professorship and published over 100 scientific papers. Many political leaders in Sudan are Sufis themselves, including several ministers in the present government. Gaafar Nimeiri, Sudan’s president from 1969 to 1985 was a faithful follower of the al-Sammaniya order.

Contemporary versus Traditional Sufis

Amir Ahmad, a self-proclaimed Sufi, does not practice Sufism in the traditional sense within a group or community setting. Instead, he individually meditates, recites zikir and practices the foundational Islamic tenets.

“My attraction to Sufism began when I got fed up of the overly legalistic approach to Islam that's dominant these days. Sufism's focus isn't on suffocating archaic rules. Instead the focus is on spiritual growth and mystical experiences, that are powerful and transformative once you've attained them and learned how to sustain their benefits so you can genuinely become a better person,” said Amir. “Moreover, since these are experiences, you don't have to believe in mysticism based on dogma and blind faith. The knowledge you attain is experiential, and you experience it for yourself,” he added.

On the other hand, Khalid Aboulela has been a follower of the Naqshbandiyya order for over 25 years, and says Sufism answered a lot of questions that seemed to be left unanswered by mainstream Islamic scholars. Khalid said, “As a believer in Allah I could not believe that the Quran was sent simply as a 'rule book'. There was clearly a lot of depth to the Quran. Praying, fasting, paying zakat and hajj just seemed to me, to be scratching the surface. I wanted to dive in, to find the 'pearls'.”

“Sufism allowed for the principle that there were different 'levels of knowledge' and that there was a type of knowledge that increased as our faith and closeness to Allah increased. It was this type of knowledge that they called 'spiritual knowledge', or gnosis in English or ma'rifah in Arabic. I was hooked to that,” he added.

When asked about the practices of the Naqshbandiyya order, Khalid explained that it centers on the follower's relationship with his sheikh through what is known as the rabitah (chain). “The follower is required to develop a rabitah with his sheikh spiritually, so that he is constantly in remembrance of his sheikh and in his presence until he achieves fanaa fil sheikh (annihilation into the sheikh), which leads to annihilation in the Prophet and ultimately annihilation in Allah. This is achieved through several methods including daily meditation in a quiet area in the dark, reciting certain Quranic surahs daily, maintaining the Sunnah in terms of dress and habits as much as possible and weekly zikir,” he clarified.

Khalid also commented on life as a Sufi saying, “Being a Sufi also affects your social life in terms of who you spend time with, who your friends are, and who you keep away from. Mainstream Muslims generally have ideological issues that run contrary to Sufism and that puts us off from participating in many Muslim groups or communities. Sufis tend to be more soft, forgiving and accepting of differences among people including non-Muslims, but we are also a lot less argumentative and tend to shy away from controversial arguments and debates. Some consider us secretive and that’s simply because we do not discuss our beliefs openly.”

Controversy

Amir and Khalid have different approaches to Sufism, but they both, however, agree on one thing: that the waves of criticisms on Sufism and claims that Sufism is a bid’ah (Islamic innovation) are nonsensical.

“The problem with Sufism in its current traditional form, especially in Sudan, is that it has become rife with superstition and excessive reverence of the sheikhs of the order. This obviously isn't because of something that's inherently wrong within Sufism itself, but because of the lack of education. Educated and open-minded Sudanese Sufis don't suffer from the problems you find quite spread amongst your average Sufis,” said Amir.

Regarding the music incorporated in some Sufi zikir sessions, which traditional Islamic scholars find unacceptable, both Amir and Khalid agree that there is nothing wrong with it, noting that the music is uplifting, positive and full of love and passion for God.

Khalid opined that the controversy stems from the use of magic in some Sufi ways and the emergence of false sheikhs. “Unfortunately there’s a tendency to abuse the nature/structure of Sufi orders in that false sheikhs tend to appear regularly in Sudan, which puts a drain on people and gives the real shuyookh (scholars) a bad reputation. It also overlaps with a lot of magic, hocus-pocus in Sudan (as well as in Egypt) with so-called shuyookh claiming to control jinns and pushing fake remedies and fixes to problems. These types are categorically rejected by the true Sufi shuyookh,” he stated.

This article was first published here

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Stories from Our Reality: Journey of a Darfurian Woman

He spotted her, wearing her school uniform, standing with a bunch of girls in front of an all girls’ school. To him, they all looked plain... dull, even. But she, on the other hand, stood out ever so elegantly. In all certainty she was the most beautiful young woman he’d ever seen. Even from afar, her big brown eyes were gleaming with splendour, and her dark chocolate skin was the fairest he’d ever laid eyes on. Their eyes met for a split second of majesty… she caught a glimpse of him and gave the most radiant smile, emerging her glistening teeth that to him appeared whiter than pearls, then timidly looked away.

Finally, he gathered the courage to approach her in the midst of the crowd of girls… but this was far from a normal situation. This was not merely the case of a guy approaching a girl whom, after only one glance, knew was the one for him. It was not as simple as a love-at-first-sight scene where the guy expresses his feelings and the girl forces a bashful smile.

In reality, it was a time of war, and he, a 26-year-old Northern Sudanese soldier, has fallen for an 18-year-old Darfurian girl. It was a critical position to say the least, where a state filled with bloodshed, racism and political unrest that suffered from harsh economic measures knew very little about racial tolerance. Yet, even though the chances of something sparking between the two of them were next to nil, the army soldier refused to hold back.

“Marry me,” were the only two words he uttered to her. Her friends, astounded by what had just happened, all turned to see her expression; which was blank. He anticipated for her to articulate something for what he felt was an eternity, but in fact were purely a few moments. Finally, she responded. “Our house is right over there,” she said, pointing at the old brick house just down the end of the road.

Later that night, he made an appearance at the house that she had earlier described. He was welcomed inside and introduced himself as Emad. The old man who invited him in appeared to be the young woman’s father, and Emad did not hesitate to ask for his daughter’s hand almost immediately. He anxiously awaited the response of the old man, only to hear him voice out the name of his future’s wife for the very first time; “It is up to Khadija, my son”.

Just like that, two weeks later Khadija and Emad were married. She moved to Khartoum to live with her husband at the housh, the big family house. It wasn’t very big though, or at least their share of the house wasn’t. Khadija and Emad were crammed in the tiniest room in the house. It was a room that had a very small kitchen with very few utensils, a tiny bathroom, and two metal beds joined together. Khadija didn’t mind the simple life… all she cared about was taking care of her husband.

Little did Khadija know that she was about to embark into the most difficult journey of her life. Dealing with her sister-in-law Nadia, who objected to this marriage from the very beginning, was a daily struggle. Nadia’s disapproval of her brother’s marital union was purely racist-driven. She was ashamed to tell people that a young woman from the West was part of their family, so she kept Khadija isolated in her part of the house and forbade her from engaging in any family activities around the housh. Khadija was patient about all of this, but it was very gruelling for her especially since Emad was always away.

It was manageable for Khadija at first; she would wait for Emad to return home every few months and would then make the best out of it. The little quality time she would spend with him was well worth all the suffering she was forced to endure day to day. Khadija was beginning to get used to how things were, until a few months later she became pregnant. As much as she and her husband were ecstatic about welcoming a new baby into their family, Khadija couldn’t help but worry about their current living arrangements and their financial situation. Emad did not make much money, and with the baby due they would not be able to afford basic things like food and electricity.

Khadija found herself taking matters into her own hands. She started working privately for women around the neighbourhood as a beautician. With her stomach expanding, she still managed to circulate around the area, going door-to-door offering her services to married women. She would wax, scrub and sell her home-made natural face scrubs, and shortly after her business took off.

Initially, Emad was typically not happy about his wife working and occasionally bringing in more money than him. But as life got harder and basic commodities became more expensive, he eventually accepted it. In a week’s time, Khadija would earn more money than her husband does in a month. Things were looking up for the young couple as Khadija’s business bloomed.

After giving birth to Ahmed, the young boy found himself dragged to his mother’s beauty calls at a very small age. She was unable to leave him at the house unattended, and Nadia refused to do any babysitting for her while she worked. Predictably, Nadia was very critical of Khadija’s job, and at times expressed her jealousy in unsubtle ways.

While Nadia thought of Khadija’s job as demeaning, Khadija didn’t care. All she was concerned about was maintaining her customers, who loved her pleasantness and soft-spoken nature and often tipped her well.

Singlehandedly, Khadija was able to support her child and help out her husband. Like any young Darfurian woman with big dreams, she came to Khartoum expecting to lead a normal life away from the depressions of the war and the harsh circumstances back home. Instead, she was met with discrimination, punitive living conditions and desertion. While this may have been enough to shatter the hopes and dreams of any woman in her shoes, Khadija persevered and beat all odds, and did not care for or respond to racism and intolerance, as ‘hate’ was not a word in her vocabulary.

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