From Atbara to Bahri: Observations, Reality, and Regret

By: Umaima Abdullah

To their level best, they tried to radiate joy, struggling to smile after performing the Eid prayer, exchanging greetings and handshakes, hoping that…Allah would fulfill their wishes.
And that the next Eid, Allah willing, shall see them inside their homes: this was the most prevalent wish people expressed. This is how people greet each other here.
They don’t push any further, nor do they spell in words how they would return.
Because many questions remain unanswered, and people prefer not to delve into the matter because they lack confidence
And reliance here is specifically on Allah alone.
This is the nature of Eid in River Nile State and its cities, Atbara, Damar, and Shendi.
This state has sheltered those fleeing the central states and has been crowded with internally displaced people (IDPs), bringing prosperity to the Manasi villages. Teachers and craftsmen, experts, thinkers, teachers, doctors, community leaders, creative individuals, and innovative youth have flocked to the state.
They tried to adjust to the new circumstances, until the almighty wills their fate and decided their return.
However, the state’s condition remained the same even before the outbreak of the war and continued well after that, well into the era of the National Salvation Government.
This state has neither benefited from those who came, nor has it prepared itself for their arrival.
I don’t understand the secret that makes people tolerate coexisting with the drought in its streets and at the entrances to its cities despite the availability of water and suitable arable soil.
This is a state that is supposed to have trees shading every street instead of the piles of garbage scattered beneath electricity poles or because some children emptied the garbage to pick up the emptied bags.
These streets and squares could have been adorned with trees and green cover
The state has failed to put into use the squares and open spaces in its cities, which have become a place for the squatters of families from South Sudan, and their sleeping quarters have been placed in plain sight of the public and the state government as if the lesson was intended for others and not for the state’s guardians.
Squatters of dozens of South Sudanese families are erected in the large square in front of the state legislative council. Where did they come from? Did they come from Khartoum after the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) recaptured the place over there!
Does the State’s Governor pass by this area?
The eyes are attracted by the many grocery stores selling food, built of zinc under a blazing sun, with no regard for safe storage!
You sense that the state is not providing services here. There are no planned market zones to accommodate the crowds, no roads, and no lighting.
Even the Transportation Terminus Port is still at its pre-war status, and people are forced to quench their hunger at the cafeterias opposite the port, regardless of the situation, the flies, and the families who take up residence under its walls and relieve themselves in a low spot near the port.
I won’t discuss health services because I haven’t visited public hospitals. What I’ve seen is enough; I have no regrets about not paying a visit to these public service utilities!
In a state that isn’t poor, with large and small factories and businessmen who can contribute to its development, our goal, which I don’t think we’ll achieve soon, is good resource management and determining who is best suited to occupy the position. Everything here is wasted, both its people and its resources!
On your way out, you’ll be surprised again by the drought extending as far as the eye can see, the vast openness, and the scorching heat. There are no projects to lighten the atmosphere, cheer the soul, and delight the eye, and no agriculture that contributes to achieving food security. Nothing at all except villages along the road, their mud houses scattered with different names, their inhabitants lashed by the scorching sunbeams, their helplessness, their apparent poverty, and their hands raised, begging for the bounty from those passersby who have anything extra to offer them
What I saw has almost made me cry with regret for Sudan and the state of the people, whose sizes have shrunk under the weight of drought, and whose faces have been burned.
Scattered military checkpoints are manned by dedicated, exhausted young men in ill-prepared conditions, their shoulders weighed down by the weapons they dangle as they stand directly under the heat of the crushing sun.
You would wonder why our ambition is lacking, innovation is ineffective, patriotism is lacking, and rulers act as if the affairs of their people were of no concern to them.
Longing for Bahri as reflected in our tears of regret, two full years since leaving it. As soon as you pass the River Nile State sign and the scenes toward Bahri unfold, you feel like your part of a video game, piloting a plane and waging a war for the stars.
On both sides of the road that extends until you pass the Kadro area, you see dozens of cars of all sizes and types, not only burned but also upside down, the gutted structures plastered together, and everything inside looted.
You come across blackened fuel tanks every few meters. Shops are empty and wide open, their strong doors ripped off. Bakeries and homes are all damaged, and traces of fire line both sides of the road.
I managed, struggling to contain myself and forcibly silencing my heart, to wander around the Al-Lasilki neighbourhood before the Halfaya-Al-Hatana Bridge. The houses were completely empty, no one… the streets were empty, no security presence, no police… only, every now and then, two men would cross the allies, no one knows whether they were from the security forces or the (Shafshafa) Anyone who wanted to take something from these houses would take it, no one here would protect, guard or scare possible letters away…
Some neighbourhoods in the Halfaya area have had their electricity and water services restored, but they lack the presence of police protection units.
The fire affected the facilities: Al-Baraha Hospital, Al-Mashreq University, and large commercial stores. There were traces of bullets and shells on the houses, on the balconies and walls…
Who are the people present now and whom I noticed? I met them and asked them… People from South Sudan are wandering around the area near Al-Mashreq University, along with Ethiopians!!
I tried to examine the few faces I encountered. Not one among them would reassure you, O Khartoum State Government!!
However, people wanted to return, and they longed for the homes they were forced to leave.
It is not enough to declare that the state is free of rebels. The Ministry of Health must also declare the areas safe from health hazards and threats.
The government’s presence must be felt, its authority must be imposed on the streets, and security must be ensured so that those returning to their homes can feel secure.
People have endured more than they could bear during the war, so help them return home and appoint those who can be at the service of the people, not those who stand ready to bow for their superiors.

Shortlink: https://sudanhorizon.com/?p=4947