Sudan Refugees Bring Off-season Tourism to Egypt's Aswan

Around 310,000 people have crossed from Sudan into Egypt since war broke out on April 15 © ASHRAF SHAZLY / AFP
Around 310,000 people have crossed from Sudan into Egypt since war broke out on April 15 © ASHRAF SHAZLY / AFP
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Sudan Refugees Bring Off-season Tourism to Egypt's Aswan

Around 310,000 people have crossed from Sudan into Egypt since war broke out on April 15 © ASHRAF SHAZLY / AFP
Around 310,000 people have crossed from Sudan into Egypt since war broke out on April 15 © ASHRAF SHAZLY / AFP

Thousands fleeing war in Sudan have taken refuge in the Egyptian city of Aswan on the Nile, where families are helping keep the tourism industry afloat far from the horrors they left behind.

"We finally made it to Aswan," said Hisham Ali, 54, who reached Egypt after an odyssey that took his family south of the fighting in Khartoum, before heading over 1,000 kilometres (600 miles) north again to the Egyptian border.

Thousands of people have been stuck there since Egypt tightened its visa rules in July.

"Aswan is beautiful, its people are kind," the former government employee told AFP from a rest house in the popular holiday destination.

During the winter months, the city fills with Egyptian and international travellers -- drawn by the abundance of Pharaonic sites, views of the Nile River and warm weather.

When Sudanese families began arriving in April, the city's many boat captains and business owners were winding down for the low season in the summer heat.

They did not expect an influx of refugees, or the much-needed business they have brought to Egypt's struggling economy.

"I've taken my family for a fun day out, I want them as much as they can to forget the days of war and bombs and air strikes and gun shots," Ali said, as the sound of children playing rang out around him.

Around 310,000 people have crossed from Sudan into Egypt since war broke out on April 15 between the forces of army chief Abdel Fattah al-Burhan and the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces, led by his former deputy Mohamed Hamdan Daglo.

"We fled Khartoum three months ago," said Zeinab Ibrahim, 30, after two months of sheltering from constant air strikes, artillery fire and street battles.

"I was pregnant and there were no hospitals left where I could give birth," she told AFP of the situation in Sudan, where 80 percent of hospitals are out of service, according to the United Nations.

After crossing the Egyptian border, many continued the journey north to the capital Cairo, while others like Ali and Ibrahim stayed in Aswan, Egypt's southernmost major city and one of its most popular tourist destinations.

In the middle of an early September heatwave, when many boat captains would have laid anchor in past years, their flat-bottomed vessels weaved through Nile islands instead, blasting music while daring teenagers dove into the water from the upper decks.

Families cooled off from the sweltering heat on a sandy bank where tour guides told visitors to go for a dip in the river between sips of Nubian coffee.

"I've been doing this for five years," said Mahmoud al-Aswany, 19, perched on the deck of his boat.

"Since our Sudanese brothers came from the war, work has started to get better and there's been more work in tourism."

Egypt is currently going through its worst-ever economic crisis, which has devastated purchasing power across the country.

Inflation hit a record high of 39.7 percent in August, and the pound has lost half its value against the US dollar since early last year.

The response to the influx of Sudanese refugees has been mixed. In Cairo, those fleeing the war have complained of housing discrimination, soaring rent prices and racism.

In Aswan, where local Nubian communities have strong historical links across the border, early arrivals were met by volunteers offering hot meals and warm messages of welcome at bus and train stations.

But many arrive from arduous journeys in dire need, only to find limited humanitarian operations. Cairo does not operate refugee camps and insists new arrivals are instead given the right to work and move freely.

Those trying for some reprieve in the Aswan sun are among a million people who have fled across borders, in addition to four million who have been internally displaced within Sudan, according to the United Nations.

The UN expects these numbers to rise further, as the violence shows no signs of abating.

By September, the war had killed at least 7,500 people, according to a conservative estimate from the Armed Conflict Location & Event Data Project.



Jamal Mustafa to Asharq Al-Awsat: I Couldn’t Provide Bribe Demanded by Judge, So I Was Jailed for Another 10 Years

Saddam Hussein and Jamal Mustafa Sultan.
Saddam Hussein and Jamal Mustafa Sultan.
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Jamal Mustafa to Asharq Al-Awsat: I Couldn’t Provide Bribe Demanded by Judge, So I Was Jailed for Another 10 Years

Saddam Hussein and Jamal Mustafa Sultan.
Saddam Hussein and Jamal Mustafa Sultan.

In the final installment of his interview with Asharq Al-Awsat, Jamal Mustafa Sultan, a former Iraqi official and Saddam Hussein’s son-in-law, delves into his arrest, the collapse of hopes for resistance against US forces, and the turmoil that followed the American invasion of Iraq in 2003.

Mustafa faced a harsh journey during the 2003 US invasion of Iraq. He traveled to rally tribal leaders to defend Baghdad, only to return and find the city occupied. Declared a fugitive, his face appeared on the US “most-wanted” playing cards.

Mustafa fled to Syria but was denied asylum and sent back to Iraq, where he was arrested. Accused of leading resistance and car bombings, the court found no evidence to convict him.

In 2011, a judge offered him release in exchange for a bribe, which Mustafa could not afford. His proposal to sell family land to pay was rejected, leaving him imprisoned for another decade. He was eventually freed over lack of evidence.

A US soldier watches the toppling of Saddam Hussein’s statue in Baghdad on April 7, 2003. (Reuters)

After his release, Mustafa went to Erbil, where Kurdish leader Masoud Barzani invited him for a meeting. Barzani welcomed him warmly and asked how he could help. Mustafa requested assistance in obtaining a passport, praising Barzani’s generosity.

Mustafa shared that Saddam respected Barzani, once calling him a “tough but honorable opponent.” He also revealed that, before the 2003 US invasion of Iraq, Barzani had assured Saddam that Kurdish forces would not fight the Iraqi army.

Recalling the lead-up to the war, Mustafa said Saddam tasked him with reconnecting with tribal leaders to encourage them to resist the invasion.

He delivered personal messages from Saddam, along with financial support, to help tribes host Iraqi soldiers stationed nearby. Mustafa later traveled to the Anbar province to rally tribes and bring them to defend Baghdad.

This account offers a rare glimpse into the behind-the-scenes efforts to resist the US invasion and the complex relationships that shaped Iraq’s history.

As the US invasion loomed, Mustafa met with thousands of tribal leaders to rally support for Baghdad’s defense.

“During the war, I met with over 4,500 tribal sheikhs from across Iraq,” he said. But when he returned to Baghdad after a trip to Anbar, everything had changed. “The city had fallen, and everything was in chaos.”

Mustafa tried to locate his associates but found no one. On April 11, 2003, he sent his driver to search for allies.

By chance, his brother, Lt. Gen. Kamal Mustafa, located him. “He told me we needed to leave Baghdad. I hadn’t planned to leave, but he convinced me it was the logical choice—we had no weapons, no men, and no resources. Staying would only mean capture.”

The brothers fled to Ramadi, where tribal leaders offered them refuge, and from there, they attempted to seek asylum in Syria. After just two days, Syrian authorities sent them back to Iraq.

Back in Baghdad, Mustafa and Khalid Najm, Iraq’s last intelligence chief, stayed with a university friend, Dr. Hafidh Al-Dulaimi. While there, Al-Dulaimi’s nephew suggested surrendering to Ahmed Chalabi’s forces, but Mustafa refused.

Saddam Hussein meets with top members of his regime. (Getty Images)

Shortly after, armed men stormed the house. “They came with tanks and masks,” Mustafa recalled. He and Najm were arrested on April 21, 2003—a day he will never forget.

Mustafa shared his experiences in US detention after his capture. “The interrogations were relentless, often involving psychological and physical pressure,” he added.

“They focused on weapons of mass destruction—’did Iraq have them, and where were they?’ Everyone faced the same questions. They also asked about US pilot Michael Scott Speicher, whose plane was shot down during the Gulf War. Though his remains were later found, the Americans kept questioning us, believing more was being hidden.”

Life in the detention center was highly controlled. Detainees were grouped in blocks of seven and given 30 minutes of outdoor time. Sultan recalled a chilling moment when Ahmed Hussein, Saddam’s office chief, told him during exercise: “The president has been captured.”

“We had clung to hope that Saddam’s freedom could lead to Iraq’s liberation,” Mustafa said. “His arrest shattered that hope and signaled the occupation’s permanence.”

He also described mysterious construction in the prison. “We saw carpenters working constantly. Eventually, they built a wooden barrier, blocking the corridor from view. We could only guess what it was for.”

When asked if Saddam had led the resistance before his capture, Mustafa confirmed: “Yes, the resistance began after the war. It wasn’t planned in advance because, at that time, the focus was purely military—army against army.”

“After the occupation, a new phase started. Battles unfolded in stages, and Saddam was leading the resistance during this one. He was the hope of the resistance, of the Iraqi people, and of Arabs and Muslims,” Mustafa revealed.

His remarks offer a glimpse into the post-invasion dynamics and the symbolic role Saddam played during Iraq’s turbulent transition.

Mustafa also recounted the difficulty of reaching his family after his arrest.

“After my capture, I lost all contact with my family. I didn’t have any phone numbers for my brothers, friends, or colleagues. Even if I had, phone lines had been disrupted—many exchanges had been bombed, and communication in Iraq was severely impacted,” he told Asharq Al-Awsat.

Mustafa recalled an encounter with the International Red Cross during his detention.

Saddam Hussein and his daughter Hala. (Courtesy of the family)

“The Red Cross offered me the chance to write a message to my family, as is their usual practice. But I was at a loss—who could I write to? I had no idea where my brothers or family were. I didn’t know anything about their whereabouts.”

Then, Mustafa had an idea. “I thought of Ammo Baba, a well-known football coach in Iraq. I didn’t know his address, but I remembered the address of the Police Club, where I had been president. I decided to write the letter there, addressed to Ammo Baba, asking him to pass it on to my family.”

Mustafa’s story highlights the communication challenges and isolation faced by detainees during the Iraq War.

He then described the prolonged separation from his family following his arrest. “I had no hopes of hearing from my family when I sent my letter through Ammo Baba,” Mustafa said.

“The situation was too difficult. After two and a half to three months, I received a response from Ammo Baba. He sent his regards, inquired about my health, and included a message from Yassin, a coach who worked with me. Along with the letter, they sent me sportswear—a shirt and shorts.”

Mustafa’s communication with his family may have been limited, but the letter served as a lifeline.

“A couple of years later, I received the first message from my wife, Hala, after two years in detention.”

Jamal Mustafa Sultan with his children.

When asked if he had been separated from his family for 18 years, Mustafa confirmed: “Yes, I hadn’t seen them or my children for 18 and a half years.”

“There were no visits or conversations, except for a brief period when we were held by the Americans. During that time, they allowed us five minutes a week to speak with our families. I would split the time—two and a half minutes with my mother and siblings, and the rest with my wife and daughters,” he said.

However, he revealed that after 2010, communication was cut off entirely.

“When we were transferred to Iraqi custody, they stopped allowing any contact. I was careful not to make calls with the Iraqis, as I feared enemies or foreign agents could record them,” explained Mustafa.

Mustafa’s story underscores the isolation he endured and the limited means of contact with his loved ones during years of detention.