Sudan Between Relief and Development (2): From Crisis Management to Building Solutions

Omaima Abdallah

In the previous article, I asked whether it is possible to restore normal life across Sudan, close the file of internally displaced persons’ camps, and enable those who wish to return to their original areas from which the current war and earlier armed conflicts displaced them.

I argued that it is essential to review the concepts and policies of humanitarian aid and to avoid the establishment of new displacement camps once the current war ends.

In reality, people do not like war, but they adapt to it when it occurs—as is happening now. Sudanese people, deep down and without exception, desire peace and dream of returning home, especially to areas affected by long-standing conflicts. In regions such as Darfur, this dream has been deferred for decades.

When I visited a displacement camp in the city of Al-Dabba in Northern State, the situation was no different. It mirrored the nature of life in camps I had seen nearly ten years ago in South Darfur. The circumstances, the people, and the causes of displacement may have changed. Yet, the conditions inside the camps remain the same: tents pitched close together, forming large extended households with little privacy, often encompassing dozens of families depending on proximity. Life becomes collective—people share the sorrows of displacement, the longing to return, the hardship of need, and the division of scarce resources—while aid warehouses begin to receive supplies, and competition over them intensifies.

Another equally serious risk is the danger of becoming accustomed to receiving aid in camps: the emptying of cities of their inhabitants—those who know them and are known by them—and their transformation into ruins inhabited by fighters, combatants, and militias rather than their original residents. It is important to note, however, that El Fasher is not like other cities. Its history is one of resilience and attachment to the land, and of striving for safety amid recurring conflict. Today, it stands as one of the last strongholds in Darfur—a defensive barrier against attempts to alter the region’s demographic and political map.

What is truly alarming is the depopulation of cities such as El Geneina, Zalingei, Nyala, and El Fasher, and the dispersal of their original populations across different regions. While newly established camps may currently be seen as a temporary displacement crisis, they could, if the conflict persists—and if calls to permanently integrate displaced populations into host areas gain traction—evolve into an existential threat to the identity of entire Sudanese communities, fundamentally altering their way of life.

People are the soul of a place; they give cities their identity and preserve their history. Cities are not protected from fragmentation by armies alone, but by the continued presence of their inhabitants. Cities such as El Fasher, Nyala, and El Geneina are centres of civilisation and commerce, and it is deeply dangerous for them to become open, vulnerable spaces threatened by forced demographic change—through the replacement of their original populations and the transformation of their social and cultural fabric.

Even before the fall of the previous regime, displacement camps in Darfur remained in place, protected by the international community, while state efforts to return people to their homes failed. Over time, the focus shifted from ending the camps to managing them.

The aspiration for peace is not a fleeting idea; it is rooted in the human condition. However, return cannot be discussed without providing protection and guarantees. As noted in the previous article, the deployment of peacekeeping forces did not produce lasting peace—as demonstrated by the experience of the United Nations–African Union Mission in Darfur—because peace cannot be imposed from the outside; it must come from within.

When people trust their leadership and the reasons for remaining in camps disappear, closing the camps requires a genuine and responsible alternative from the government—namely, development and reconstruction projects that enable people to live with dignity.

The government alone has the capacity to support citizens, provide essential services, and ensure their protection. It must also expand opportunities for young people so that militarisation is not their only option. Moving away from this path requires a real effort—a national and moral commitment from state leaders and government ministers. Genuine alternatives mean creating immediate opportunities, providing labour-market training and skills development, and supporting productive projects that reintegrate people into the cycle of production and restore the value of work. People do not lack the will—they lack the opportunity.

Reviving life and breaking the cycle of dependence on humanitarian aid does not mean closing the door on relief, but rather redirecting assistance and linking it to small-scale productive programmes and projects. These should open pathways to employment, enable stability, support livelihoods, and enhance local production—transforming people into active participants in reconstruction and economic life.

This war, imposed on Sudan and plunging it into widespread destruction, can be turned into an opportunity: to build a real state that ends our crisis and suffering and leads us back to life. Sudan does not lack resources, nor the desire for peace. What it lacks is rebuilding trust and changing how we think about generating solutions to our crises.

The difference between relief and development is between keeping people alive and building a future for them.

Shortlink: https://sudanhorizon.com/?p=13072