From the Village of Mustariha to the Body of Europe: When the West Ignites Sudan’s Wars and Then Flees Their Ashes

Eng. Tareq Hamza Zein al-Abidin
The attack on Mustariha is not an isolated incident. It is one link in a broader project aimed at dismantling Darfur’s social fabric and transforming the region into an open platform for mercenaries and the trade of war — a development that threatens Sudan, its neighbours, the continent, and Europe as a whole.
Mustariha, which was burned, is not the headquarters of a Sudanese army division, nor a regular garrison, nor a central city housing banks, ministries or state treasuries. It is a traditional tribal settlement of the Mahamid clan within the broader Rizeigat community — a damra that embodies both social simplicity and a deep-rooted communal structure. Similar rural towns across Darfur have previously been targeted and reduced from civilian communities to ruins by repeated attacks from militias allied with the Rapid Support Forces (RSF).
Sheikh Musa Hilal has never been part of the so-called “State of ’56 establishment” nor among the ranks of “Islamist elites”, as some portray him. Rather, he is a traditional tribal leader of one of Darfur’s largest Arab tribes and of the broader Abbala grouping, wielding social weight that cannot be ignored in equations of peace or war. His earlier decision not to engage militarily in the conflict between the army and the RSF was, in this reading, a deliberate attempt to preserve Rizeigat cohesion and prevent Darfur from descending into full-scale intra-tribal conflict.
As a tribal leader and Sudanese citizen, Musa Hilal has the right to declare that the militia’s cause is illegitimate, to refuse support for its project, and to reject the transformation of his community into fuel for a destructive war against the state and its institutions. At its core, this reflects a fundamental democratic principle: freedom of political stance and the right of individuals and communities to reject alignment with arms operating outside the state’s framework.
In contrast, the rhetoric promoted by Hemedti and his circle regarding “democracy” and a “state of citizenship” appears undermined by documented reports of ethnically motivated crimes in Darfur, including killings of civilians, systematic looting, and the burning of entire towns such as Misterei and Ardamata in West Darfur. These actions have been described in some quarters as potentially constituting crimes against humanity and possibly genocide.
Against this backdrop, the assault on Mustariha — a village symbolising both a tribe and a leader who chose neutrality — becomes a political message written in blood: neutrality is not permitted, rejection of the militia’s project is unacceptable, and those who hold their ground risk punishment by fire and displacement.
The attack coincides with intense fighting around Tina (Al-Tina) in Dar Zaghawa, on the border between Sudan and Chad, where RSF forces and army-aligned units contest control of a strategic border crossing. Tina is not merely a boundary point; it is a vital artery for Zaghawa communities spanning Sudan and Chad, as well as a corridor for the smuggling of weapons, gold, fuel, and people across the Sahel.
The simultaneous targeting of the Mahamid stronghold in Mustariha and Zaghawa areas around Tina effectively pushes two major pillars of Darfur’s tribal structure towards armed polarisation along Sudan’s borders with Libya, Chad and Niger. This dynamic risks:
Broad cross-border entanglement of tribal armed activity, given the transnational extensions of the Rizeigat, Zaghawa and other communities;
The blurring of lines between an “internal Sudanese conflict” and a “regional war”, turning Darfur into a central theatre of the wider Sahel crisis.
The war in Sudan has already drawn thousands of fighters from neighbouring countries, through direct financial recruitment or via smuggling networks operating as cross-border mercenaries within war economies. Various research reports suggest that some RSF fighters originate from Arab nomadic tribes extending across Niger, Chad, Mali, the Central African Republic and Libya, with some having previously fought as mercenaries in Libya or Yemen before being redeployed to Sudan.
Regional and UN sources have also pointed to the involvement of armed adventurers from Mali, Niger and Chad, motivated by financial incentives and access to gold. In a continent already saturated with armed formations — from Darfur movements to Sahelian jihadist groups, Libyan militias, and armed factions in the Central African Republic, Congo and Mozambique — the Sudan war risks becoming another node in a transnational conflict marketplace.
Amid rising tensions between Ethiopia and Eritrea and ongoing instability in the Horn of Africa, the region stretching from the Red Sea to the Atlantic risks becoming an open corridor for mercenaries, smugglers and extremist groups, including potential redeployment of experienced fighters linked to Russian-aligned networks such as Wagner or other transnational war enterprises operating within a globalised market of conflict.
Such interconnections threaten the gradual weakening of national armies across the region:
The Sudanese army is engaged in prolonged urban and attritional warfare against a large and well-equipped militia;
The Chadian army faces internal pressures and a delicate balancing between border control, ethnic considerations and regional alignments;
The armies of Niger, Mali and Burkina Faso are already strained by insurgencies, coups and international sanctions, limiting their capacity to secure vast desert frontiers.
As these forces weaken, security vacuums expand — spaces exploited by militias, traffickers and criminal networks. The Sahel and Sahara increasingly serve as corridors for irregular migration, arms trafficking, drug flows and human smuggling towards the Mediterranean.
Over recent years, migration data have shown that West Africa and the Sahel are among the principal sources of flows to Europe. Each new wave of war in Sudan, Darfur or the Sahel drives more people to flee in search of safety.
Europe has sought to contain the flames at a distance through security agreements with southern Mediterranean states, funding coastal forces to police borders, and focusing on managing migration flows rather than investing seriously in extinguishing the root causes of conflict in Sudan and the Sahel. The international response to massacres in El Fasher, El Geneina and elsewhere has largely been confined to statements of condemnation.
Yet if scorched-earth zones expand from Darfur into Chad, Niger and Mali, and if national armies unravel while mercenary networks become the most organised armed actors, the likely outcome will not be confined to refugee boats. It may also take the form of organised violence networks, armed extremism and transcontinental criminal economies. At that point, instability will not remain contained south of the Mediterranean; the sea Europe once hoped would serve as a barrier may instead become a bridge for the disorder it helped enable through neglect.
The attack on Mustariha is therefore more than an assault on a village. It is an early warning that the project of fragmenting Darfur and Sudan is advancing — and that ignoring the fire may allow it, sooner or later, to spread beyond the continent’s edges to its heart.
May God have mercy on the martyrs of Mustariha, Tina and all of Darfur, grant healing to the wounded, and justice in the end.

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