Thousands Endure Long Wait for Safety at Sudan-Ethiopia Border

People fleeing war-torn Sudan queue to board a boat from Port Sudan on April 28, 2023. (AFP)
People fleeing war-torn Sudan queue to board a boat from Port Sudan on April 28, 2023. (AFP)
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Thousands Endure Long Wait for Safety at Sudan-Ethiopia Border

People fleeing war-torn Sudan queue to board a boat from Port Sudan on April 28, 2023. (AFP)
People fleeing war-torn Sudan queue to board a boat from Port Sudan on April 28, 2023. (AFP)

An interminable row of minibuses lines the road that separates Sudan's southeastern city of Gedaref from the Ethiopian border, slowly bringing people fleeing Sudan's war closer to safety.

There, families have been "sleeping on the ground out in the open", said Oktay Oglu, a Turkish engineer who worked at a factory in the capital Khartoum before escaping with his family.

Locals and foreigners alike have made this journey, fleeing more than two weeks of brutal fighting that pits forces loyal to rival generals against one other, with civilians caught in the crossfire.

The war in the capital and other parts of Sudan has killed hundreds, injured thousands and uprooted tens of thousands, some of whom have fled to neighboring countries including Ethiopia.

The minibuses move at a snail's pace. At the end of the road to the border, Sudanese and Ethiopian flags flutter in the sky, a mere 10 meters (yards) between them.

But there, another long wait lies in store.

With his wife and three children, Oglu made the arduous trip from Khartoum to Gedaref after waiting days until a relative lull in fighting allowed them to escape.

They first reached the city of Wad Madani 200 kilometers (124 miles) south of the capital, where witnesses say life continues relatively normally. They spent the night there before continuing on to Gedaref another 250 kilometers east.

Finally, the road led them to the border with Ethiopia and the small community of Gallabat, with its bare-bones homes made out of wood and dried grass.

Having arrived at the crossing after it closed at 5:00 pm, they had to wait out the night until it reopened at 8:00 am the next morning.

From Gondar to Dubai

At the crossing they found nationals from all over the world gathered, all hoping to make it to the other side in as little time as possible.

An official at the crossing, speaking on condition of anonymity, said about "9,000 people crossed the border, the majority foreigners, including many Turkish".

Data from the United Nations' International Organization for Migration said about 3,500 people of 35 different nationalities had found refuge in Ethiopia as of Tuesday.

More than 40 percent of those are Turkish, while 14 percent are Ethiopians who lived in Sudan and are returning home.

Many of the Sudanese crossing are Gulf workers like 35-year-old Diaeddin Mohammed, an accountant with a Dubai-based company.

Though many among Khartoum's five million residents chose to flee northwards towards Egypt or east to Port Sudan -- where Saudi ships have been transporting foreigners across the Red Sea to Jeddah -- Mohammed favored another route.

"I chose Ethiopia because the distance from Khartoum to the Ethiopian city of Gondar, which has an airport... is about 850 kilometers," he said.

By comparison, Cairo is a grueling 2,000 kilometer road trip north through the desert, with refugees often waiting days to be processed at the border.

Once in Gondar, Mohammed could easily book a direct flight to Dubai.

Others have fled with no prospect of job security or a second home to return to.

Ahmed Hussein, 45, had to abandon his small business in Khartoum for a life in exile along with his wife and three daughters.

"We want to cross to safety in Addis Ababa until we see where things are going in Sudan," he told AFP.

Hussein added that he would try to start a small business in Ethiopia, "if that is possible".

In the meantime, he said, they would try to survive "with whatever means I have".



This Ramadan, Relief and Hope Bump against Uncertainty in the New Syria

Residents walk in the market on the first day of Ramadan, the holy month for Muslims, in Damascus, Syria, Saturday March 1, 2025.(AP)
Residents walk in the market on the first day of Ramadan, the holy month for Muslims, in Damascus, Syria, Saturday March 1, 2025.(AP)
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This Ramadan, Relief and Hope Bump against Uncertainty in the New Syria

Residents walk in the market on the first day of Ramadan, the holy month for Muslims, in Damascus, Syria, Saturday March 1, 2025.(AP)
Residents walk in the market on the first day of Ramadan, the holy month for Muslims, in Damascus, Syria, Saturday March 1, 2025.(AP)

Sahar Diab had visited Damascus’ famed Umayyad Mosque previously. But as the Syrian lawyer went there to pray during her country’s first Ramadan after the end of the Assad family’s iron-fisted rule, she felt something new, something priceless: A sense of ease.

“The rituals have become much more beautiful,” she said. “Before, we were restricted in what we could say. ... Now, there’s freedom.”

As Diab spoke recently, however, details were trickling in from outside Damascus about deadly clashes. The bloodshed took on sectarian overtones and devolved into the worst violence since former President Bashar Assad was overthrown in December by armed insurgents led by the group Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS).

This Ramadan — the Muslim holy month of daily fasting and heightened worship — such are the realities of a Syria undergoing complex transition. Relief, hope and joy at new openings — after 53 years of the Assad dynasty’s reign, prolonged civil war and crushing economic woes — intermingle with uncertainty, fear by some, and a particularly bloody and worrisome wave of violence.

Some are feeling empowered, others vulnerable.

“We’re not afraid of anything,” Diab said. She wants her country to be rebuilt and to get rid of Assad-era “corruption and bribery.”

At the Umayyad Mosque, the rituals were age-old: A woman fingering a prayer bead and kissing a copy of the Quran; the faithful standing shoulder-to-shoulder and prostrating in prayer; the Umayyad’s iconic and unusual group call to prayer, recited by several people.

Muslim worshippers pray during the Muslim holy month of Ramadan at the Umayyad Mosque in Damascus, Syria, Friday March 7, 2025. (AP)

The sermon, by contrast, was fiery in delivery and new in message.

The speaker, often interrupted by loud chants of “God is great,” railed against Assad and hailed the uprising against him.

“Our revolution is not a sectarian revolution even though we’d been slaughtered by the sword of sectarianism,” he said.

This Ramadan, Syrians marked the 14th anniversary of the start of their country’s civil war. The conflict began as a peaceful revolt against the regime, before Assad crushed the protests and a civil war erupted.

It became increasingly fought along sectarian lines, drawing in foreign powers and fighters. Assad, who had ruled over a majority Sunni population, belongs to the minority Alawite sect and had drawn from Alawite ranks for military and security positions, fueling resentment. That, Alawites say now, shouldn’t mean collective blame for his actions.

Many Syrians speak of omnipresent fear under Assad, often citing the Arabic saying, “the walls have ears,” reflecting that speaking up even privately didn’t feel safe. They talk of hardships, injustices and brutality. Now, for example, many celebrate freedom from dreaded Assad-era checkpoints.

“They would harass us,” said Ahmed Saad Aldeen, who came to the Umayyad Mosque from the city of Homs. “You go out ... and you don’t know whether you’ll return home or not.”

He said more than a dozen cousins are missing; a search for them in prisons proved futile.

Mohammed Qudmani said even going to the mosque caused anxiety for some before, for fear of getting on security forces’ radar screen or being labeled a “terrorist.”

Now, Damascus streets are bedecked with the new three-starred flag, not long ago a symbol of Assad's opponents. It flutters from poles and is plastered to walls, sometimes with the words “God is great” handwritten on it.

One billboard declares this the “Ramadan of victory.” On a government building, the faces of former presidents Bashar and Hafez al-Assad are partly cut off from a painting; in their place, “Freedom” is scribbled in Arabic.

Haidar Haidar, who owns a sweets shop, said he was touched that new security force members gave him water and dates while he was out when a call to prayer signaled that those fasting can eat and drink.

“We never saw such things here,” he said, adding that he used to recite Quranic verses for protection before passing through Assad’s checkpoints.

He said his business was doing well this Ramadan and ingredients have become more available.

A boy buys sweets on the first day of Ramadan, the holy month for Muslims, in Damascus, Syria, Saturday March 1, 2025.(AP)

Still, challenges — economic, geopolitical and otherwise — abound.

Many dream of a new Syria, but exactly how that would look remains uncertain.

“The situation is foggy,” said Damascus resident Wassim Bassimah. “Of course, there’s great joy that we’ve gotten rid of the cancer we had, but there’s also a lot of wariness.”

Syrians, he added, must be mindful to protect their country from sliding back into civil war and should maintain a dialogue that is inclusive of all.

“The external enemies are still there,” he said. “So are the enemies from within.”

The war’s scars are inescapable.

Just outside of Damascus, death and destruction are seared into some landscapes littered with pockmarked and ruined structures. Many Syrians grieve the missing and killed; many families have been divided by the exodus of millions as refugees.

Ramadan typically sees festive gatherings with loved ones to break the daily fast. Some Syrians huddle around food and juices at restaurants or throng to Ramadan tents to break their fast and smoke waterpipes as they listen to songs.

But this month’s violence in Syria’s coastal region has stoked fears among some.

The bloodshed began after reports of attacks by Assad loyalists on government security forces. Human rights and monitoring groups reported revenge killings in the counteroffensive, which they said saw the involvement of multiple groups. According to them, hundreds of civilians, or more, were killed; figures couldn't be independently confirmed. The Syrian Observatory for Human Rights said most of the killed civilians were Alawites in addition to a number of armed Alawites and security forces. Syrian authorities have formed a committee tasked with investigating the violence.

Even before the bloodshed, while many celebrated the new government, others questioned what the ascent of the former opposition forces would mean for freedoms, including of minorities and of those in the majority who are secular-minded or adhere to less conservative interpretations of Islam. The new authorities have made assurances about pluralism.

Sheikh Adham al-Khatib, a representative of Twelver Shiites in Syria, said many from the Shiite minority felt scared after Assad’s ouster and some fled the country. Some later returned, encouraged by a relative calm and the new authorities’ reassurances, he said, but the recent violence and some “individual transgressions" have rekindled fears.