In the Sanctuary of Sudanese Identity: The Debate of Origin and Belonging

By Dr Salah Daaak
In 2015, I was hosted by the distinguished media figure Imad Al-Bushari on the “Al-Khadra” TV channel in one of his renowned intellectual episodes, known for tackling subjects that strike at the core of life and thought. The discussion at the time centred on issues of identity and citizenship—an enriching and open conversation whose impact still lingers in my memory. Sharing that intellectual evening with us was the authentic artist Hashem Babnosa, who infused the atmosphere with the scent of heritage through his unique voice and style, performing songs whose echoes still resonate in my ears.
We addressed, far from the complexities of elite discourse and terminology alien to the public, how these concepts are perceived in popular consciousness. It was a timely opportunity to simplify and bring these ideas closer to the general public, especially in an age full of interpretations and tangled explanations.
Terms like identity, citizenship, and nationalism are often used in varying—and at times confusing—contexts, particularly in political and social debates. These are terms of great significance and seriousness, as they form the foundation upon which individuals understand themselves, their affiliations, rights, and duties.
However, the confusion in definitions and the lack of precise understanding often leave these issues vulnerable to intellectual hijacking by those who “fish in troubled waters”—those who exploit such terms to sow division or misinformation rather than foster understanding. Hence, simplifying these concepts and presenting them in the people’s language, free of elitist jargon, is one of the keys to collective awareness that can protect societies from distortion and deception.
Identity, simply put, is what a person is shaped by—culture, beliefs, and traditions, including language, religion, and customs that form personality and determine cultural belonging. These are mostly acquired from one’s environment.
As for citizenship and nationalism, they are concepts tied to a person’s legal and political existence and the official documents that establish their affiliation to a state or geographic entity. These define the individual’s rights and obligations toward that state.
Returning to Sudanese civilisation, from the times of Kush and Meroe, belonging was not solely dictated by geography but rather by a profound cultural and social consensus among the peoples of the Nile Valley. Their primary bond was not borders but shared history and collective consciousness.
In subsequent eras, the Funj Kingdom and the Abdallab rule emerged, shaping the early outlines of Sudanese identity, even though the modern concept of the “state” was yet to develop fully. This unique situation made Sudan a space where Arab and African identities intermingle in a distinct and unparalleled way—unlike other regions that experienced similar ethnic and cultural blending.
While Islam entered many countries through conquest and force, it reached Sudan through diplomacy—specifically via the Baqt Treaty, which permitted Arabs to enter grazing areas, bringing with them the message of Islam and the Arabic language. This remains the dominant narrative, though other accounts suggest a much older and deeper Arab presence in Sudan—supported by testimonies from scholars such as Professor Abdullah Al-Tayeb.
Arab migration into Sudan wasn’t limited to the north; it also came from the west following the fall of Andalusia. This coincided with the rise of the Funj Kingdom, which some historians interpret as a response to the loss of Al-Andalus, especially given the support it received from the Islamic Caliphate in Baghdad at the time.
From its early beginnings, Sudan was a state built on diversity and acceptance of the other. The Funj state itself was established through a unique alliance between Arab elements, represented by the Abdallab, and African elements, represented by the Funj—a rare experiment in partnership and integration based on mutual respect, not exclusion.
Contrary to some beliefs, the Funj state was not a rigid centralised state with a unified army and tax system. It more closely resembled a federal state, where regional authorities were respected, and the king’s role was often symbolic or ceremonial.
The cultural dimension of Sudanese identity began to be explored in intellectual writings with the emergence of serious intellectual movements. The first to address this issue was King Hamza bin King Tambal in 1928, in his book “Sudanese Literature and What It Ought to Be”, urging poets to reflect the Sudanese local environment rather than merely imitate pre-Islamic poetry.
In the 1930s, the Nahda Group and Fajr Group emerged, calling for Sudanese literature to reflect both Arab and African dimensions. Notable supporters of this approach included thinkers like Muawiya Mohamed Nour and Arafat Mohamed Abdullah.
The 1950s witnessed the rise of the poet Mohamed El-Mahdi El-Majzoub, who celebrated the “Southern Man” in poems known as “Junoobiyat” (Southern pieces), followed by poets such as Mohieddin Faris, Taj Elsir Hassan, El-Jaili Abdelrahman, and Mohamed Osman Kajray. However, Mohamed Al-Faytouri stood out most distinctly in this regard, dedicating much of his work to the African continent in collections such as Songs of Africa and Remember Me, Africa.
Similarly, Jamal Mohamed Ahmed was one of the most prominent intellectuals to write about African culture, leaving behind over six books on the topic. He was also a member of the Arabic Language Academy in Cairo, alongside the writer Ali Al-Mak, who focused extensively on African literature.
In the 1960s, the “Forest and Desert” school emerged, one of the most important cultural movements addressing Sudanese identity. The “forest” symbolised the African component, while the “desert” symbolised the Arab. This school arose in a post-independence climate steeped in Arab nationalism. Key contributors included Mohamed Abdel-Hayy (Return to Sennar), Mustafa Sanad (Wax Fingers), Yousif Abubakr (Abudaleeq), and Al-Noor Osman Abkar (The Awakening of Forgotten Words)—the latter coined the term “forest and desert.”
Al-Noor Osman Abkar is considered the true founder of this school, sparking major controversy with his 1962 article “I Am Not an Arab”—published three months after the 1967 defeat—prompting accusations of betrayal of Arab identity. Poet Salah Ahmed Ibrahim strongly responded in his article “We Are the Arabs of Arabia,” criticising him sharply. Though Al-Noor was in Germany at the time, the backlash was intense—even from within the movement itself, including Mohamed Al-Makki Ibrahim.
Some saw the school as a secular movement erasing Arab-Islamic identity, while others, like Professor Abdullah Ibrahim, viewed it as an alliance of those fleeing cultural and religious contradictions. Opinions within the school varied—some leaned toward African identity (like Al-Noor Zayed), others toward Arab identity (like Mohamed Al-Makki Ibrahim), while some took a middle path (like Abdel-Hayy and Sanad).
Parallel to this, the Khartoum School of Visual Arts, led by Ibrahim El-Salahi, sought to express this cultural fusion in a tolerant manner that enhanced the uniqueness of Sudanese culture.
Also emerging was the Abidamak School—named after one of the deities of ancient Meroe—led by Professor Abdallah Jalab and Professor Abdallah Ali Ibrahim, as part of the leftist discourse seeking to establish a distinct Sudanese identity.
In the 1970s, the Sudanism trend emerged, spearheaded by figures like Dr Tayeb Zain El-Abideen and Ambassador Nour El-Din Satti. This trend celebrated Sudanese identity through its cultural and historical diversity. John Garang, leader of the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement, was among its most vocal proponents in political discourse.
This entire journey demonstrates that the issue of identity has always been present—occupying historians, intellectuals, and researchers alike. The fundamental truth remains: the Sudanese is a unique blend of Arab and African heritage—embodied in what is now known as Sudanism, or the “Sudanese Person,” representing a singular identity among the peoples of the world—an identity rooted in diversity and acceptance of the other.

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