A Humanitarian Experience in Kordofan: Sheikh Al-Bura’i, Sufism, and Unforgettable Awareness Campaigns

By Dr Salah Duaak
One of the most beautiful chapters of my life in the field of humanitarian work took root in the plains of Kordofan, shortly after graduating from medical school. These beginnings were not foreign to my spirit — I had been involved in voluntary work since my early university years, participating in many health and educational activities. Driven by enthusiasm, a group of fellow students and I launched field initiatives in coordination with UNICEF and the State Ministry of Health.
At the same time, I was presenting a medical seminar programme on Radio Kordofan and a health forum on Kordofan Television. Despite their simplicity, both programmes served as powerful windows of awareness, especially in rural communities, where spoken and visual messages have a significant impact and are more accessible.
At the time, Dr Saeed Awadallah supervised health education and health promotion programmes in the state. We were joined in those early efforts by an exceptional woman: Hajja Nafisa, a community health visitor who had become a school unto herself in the art of public health awareness. She possessed a wealth of wisdom and experience far beyond her years.
She often proudly spoke of receiving training in Britain and South Africa, sharing these stories with warmth and dignity. We, as students, eagerly absorbed her insights and were fuelled by her radiant humanitarian spirit.
After graduating, I was fortunate to join a cultural and scientific exchange programme in Slovakia, where I met His Excellency Ambassador Dr Nasruddin Shulgami, who had a profound impact on shaping my national awareness abroad. Before I travelled, he invited me to his office on Palace Street. I found myself in an elegant salon where both visitors and ideas were welcome. The legendary singer Omar Ihsas had arrived before me. We sat sipping tea in that elevated atmosphere, and I realised I was in the presence of someone who could plant the love of homeland in your soul with just a few words. He made me feel the weighty responsibility of representing Sudan with honour and dignity. I left carrying advice that still echoes in my mind to this day.
Returning from Slovakia in late 2001, I applied for my internship year, only to find the waiting list unexpectedly long. At the time, I wrote a critical article titled “Doctors on the Pavement”, harshly criticising Dr Abu Jabal (may Allah have mercy on him) — unaware then of the silent efforts he was exerting behind the scenes. I spoke of the plight of young doctors waiting months for training to begin — little did we know that today, the wait would become years.
Unwilling to waste time, I applied for a job with a foreign organisation working in reproductive health and combating harmful traditional practices — and was accepted. Ironically, I found myself in an international project operating across Sudan, Awash region in Ethiopia, and the Dadaab refugee camp in Kenya. This experience exposed me to varied environments and enabled me to participate in international conferences and gain rich field experience.
The project was essentially a scientific study measuring the impact of health awareness on community behaviour. It was implemented in over 90 villages across North Kordofan. Areas such as Um Qarfa and Um Seyala were direct intervention zones, while villages like Um Dam, Zareebat Sheikh Al-Bura’i, and Al-Kuweymat served as control groups.
We started by organising workshops, lectures, and field seminars, surrounded by a passionate, dedicated team. During one seminar in Um Qarfa, a man from the audience grabbed the microphone and declared firmly:
“Listen, everyone — and you, doctor — unless Sheikh Al-Bura’i speaks clearly on this matter, we won’t accept it!”
He was referring to sensitive issues like female genital mutilation (FGM), child marriage, and family planning — topics at the intersection of tradition, religion, ignorance, and fear. We realised then that the main barrier was psychological and spiritual, and that the solution had to come through religious figures, led by Sheikh Al-Bura’i.
We decided to go straight to him, accompanied by the talented cameraman Sultan from Al-Obeid TV, and a few colleagues. Sheikh Al-Bura’i welcomed us with the hospitality befitting his status. I explained the medical risks of harmful practices and presented a scientific paper I had prepared. Just as we began, the call to Friday prayer sounded. Smiling, he said:
“Let’s go pray, and after the sermon, you can continue.”
In the mosque, I sat in the back rows. But the Sheikh did not forget. From the pulpit, he called:
“Where’s the doctor? Bring him up to speak.”
I ascended the pulpit shyly and spoke in medical terms, offering a scientific case before the congregation. After the prayer, we returned to the diwan, where we recorded a clear and unequivocal statement by Sheikh Al-Bura’i on video. We distributed TVs, loudspeakers, and copies of the tape throughout the villages. We also invited the late Sheikh Muhammad Ahmed Hassan, who joined us in his beloved, simple style.
In Um Qarfa, villagers gathered to watch the screening. I spoke first, then Sheikh Muhammad Ahmed Hassan, followed by the recorded message from Sheikh Al-Bura’i. As soon as his face appeared on screen, ululations filled the air — for most villagers, this was their first time seeing a screen. Yet, the same man who had objected earlier took the mic again and declared:
“That’s not Sheikh Al-Bura’i speaking — it’s fake dubbing!”
Whispers spread. We feared the campaign might collapse. The simplicity of this villager brought up an angle we hadn’t anticipated — doubt. We quickly adapted. We organised a special workshop for local imams in Al-Kuweymat, near Zareeba, the base of Sheikh Al-Bura’i. We brought two religious leaders from each target village. The workshop lasted three days, presenting scientific insights and persuasive talks by Sheikh Muhammad Ahmed Hassan.
Sheikh Al-Bura’i was due to speak at the closing session at 3 pm, but arrived at 5 pm — prompting doubts again:
“We knew he wouldn’t support this.”
But he came. With a short, powerful speech, he blessed the workshop’s outcomes, launching what became known as the “Al-Kuweymat Charter to Combat Harmful Practices.” Each imam returned to his pulpit, and village after village began announcing abandonment of those practices. I remember Al-Hamra being one of the first to respond.
Later, we co-authored a simple children’s book titled “Amr Fir’aun” (“The Pharaoh’s Command”), integrating my scientific perspective with religious commentary by Sheikh Muhammad Ahmed Hassan and blessed by Sheikh Al-Bura’i. Ten thousand copies were printed, written in a storytelling style for children, planting awareness from a young age.
In a moment of inspiration, we suggested that Sheikh Al-Bura’i write a poem capturing the medical message in spiritual verse. He responded like a true seeker of knowledge, composing the masterpiece “Al-Ayyama”, which blended Sufi eloquence with medical understanding and poetic rhythm with sincere purpose.
That was my experience in Kordofan — a comprehensive humanitarian journey, where I learned how religious scholars and Sufi leaders can play a pivotal role in public health and awareness. I saw how entrenched harmful practices could be defeated through truthful words, respectful dialogue, and community partnership.
May Allah have mercy on Sheikh Al-Bura’i, an imam who was more than just a jurist — he was a nation walking the earth. My thanks to my colleagues and the village health committees, many of whom were primary school teachers, who shared the dream and helped us sow the seeds of change together.

Shortlink: https://sudanhorizon.com/?p=6640