Sudanese Head North to Egypt Seeking Brighter Future

Malaz Al-Bakr Ibrahim, 23, who has worked as a babysitter in Egypt since 2020 because of the economic and political situation in Sudan, poses for a photograph at Ain Shams district area in Cairo, Egypt September 13, 2022. (Reuters)
Malaz Al-Bakr Ibrahim, 23, who has worked as a babysitter in Egypt since 2020 because of the economic and political situation in Sudan, poses for a photograph at Ain Shams district area in Cairo, Egypt September 13, 2022. (Reuters)
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Sudanese Head North to Egypt Seeking Brighter Future

Malaz Al-Bakr Ibrahim, 23, who has worked as a babysitter in Egypt since 2020 because of the economic and political situation in Sudan, poses for a photograph at Ain Shams district area in Cairo, Egypt September 13, 2022. (Reuters)
Malaz Al-Bakr Ibrahim, 23, who has worked as a babysitter in Egypt since 2020 because of the economic and political situation in Sudan, poses for a photograph at Ain Shams district area in Cairo, Egypt September 13, 2022. (Reuters)

At downtown Khartoum's al-Souq al-Arabi, travel agencies helping young Sudanese seek a brighter economic future in Egypt are replacing once-packed hardware stores in a corner of the capital's main commercial hub.

The exodus reflects growing despondence over prospects at home, where the economy has been in free fall and the UN says food shortages affect a third of the population. Power and water cuts are common. Anti-army protests have rocked the streets since a coup a year ago.

Following the military takeover, which toppled a civilian-led government that had promised a new economic dawn, the number of those leaving has accelerated, travel agents and migrants say.

Egypt, already home to a Sudanese community estimated at 4 million, offers few of the lucrative jobs that Sudanese migrants.

And while some do travel onward on treacherous Mediterranean trips to Europe, Egypt has notable advantages.

Young Sudanese can travel there cheaply and hunt for work, while families seek healthcare, education for their children and a stable life.

"All us young people want to build a future, but you can't do that here," said Munzir Mohamed, a 21-year-old trying to book a bus trip to Egypt at one of the travel agencies.

The owner of a Khartoum bus company said as many as 30 buses were taking around 1,500 passengers to Egypt from Sudan daily, which he said was up 50% from last year, despite sharp ticket price increases. Two travel agents estimated the number of young men seeking to make the journey had doubled in the last year.

There are no publicly available figures to show recent migration trends from Sudan to Egypt. But an Egyptian diplomat said numbers travelling had been on the rise since 2019, when an uprising led to the overthrow of former Sudanese leader Omar al-Bashir.

"Movement of Sudanese people into Egypt has been increasing ... gradually and proportional to the deterioration of the situation in Sudan," he said.

Taxes and fees

In al-Souq al-Arabi, laborers, electricians, and others who would typically be at building sites idle away the time drinking tea and playing board games while they wait for work.

"We used to hope for five minutes to take a seat. Now I'm sat here all day," said the owner of one hardware store still operating in the market.

Much of the paltry income that shopkeepers and stall-holders can still make goes to higher taxes, dues, and license fees introduced by a government that lost billions in external economic support after the coup, they say.

The finance minister, Jibril Ibrahim, said on Sunday the country would rely on its own internal resources for a second year to fund the budget, despite the government struggling to provide basic services.

Taxes and fees have risen by 400% or more in some instances, business owners say.

"It's impacted us hugely," said the hardware store owner.

Traders shut down main markets in the cities of Sennar and Gedaref this month in protest at the charges. Further closures are due in the city of El Obeid this week. The government, with no new prime minister appointed since the coup, is juggling strikes by electricity and sewage workers as well as trainee doctors over low wages.

The finance ministry did not respond to a request for comment.

Official inflation has eased from a high of 423% last year to 117% in August, which businessmen and analysts say reflects economic stagnation. It is still one of the highest rates globally.

The Sudanese pound depreciated by 950% over the past four years, while fuel, once subsidized, has become more expensive than in many wealthier countries.

Business owners say most people can no longer afford much beyond basic goods, causing traders and factories to slow down or close up shop.

That may push more people to leave. The International Organization for Migration (IOM), "anticipates that more people will consider migration as an option," a spokesman for the U.N. agency said in reference to Sudan.

Circumstances in Egypt are also difficult with inflation running at its highest in almost four years, and almost a quarter of youths unemployed, according to the International Labour Organization.

Sudanese youth often end up working menial jobs in factories, gold mines, or as domestic help, travel agents and migrants say. But they have a community to lean on, and can earn more than at home.

"My whole family in Sudan worked and we still weren't making much, and it would all go towards food," said 23-year-old Malaz Abbakar, who moved to Egypt two years ago.

Now, she says, she's able to send her family up to 120,000 Sudanese pounds ($208) per month working as a babysitter.

Stores selling Sudanese foods have cropped up in Cairo, private schools advertise Egyptian branches on billboards in Khartoum, and many travel to Egypt for healthcare that's become expensive or unavailable back home.

For some, like 23-year-old Adam from war-stricken Darfur, Egypt is a stopover before the treacherous journey across the Mediterranean to Europe.

"It's dangerous but it's better to risk it and have a good life than to suffer in poverty and hopelessness," he said as he queued for a visa at the Egyptian consulate in Khartoum, along with dozens of other would-be migrants.



Gemayel to Asharq Al-Awsat: Khaddam was Assad’s Stick to Apply Pressure

Relations between Gemayel and Khaddam were highly tense (Getty)
Relations between Gemayel and Khaddam were highly tense (Getty)
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Gemayel to Asharq Al-Awsat: Khaddam was Assad’s Stick to Apply Pressure

Relations between Gemayel and Khaddam were highly tense (Getty)
Relations between Gemayel and Khaddam were highly tense (Getty)

Late Syrian President Hafez al-Assad was a masterful negotiator, fiercely protective of his image and reputation. He was known for exhausting his guests with lengthy detours into history before addressing the substance of any talks.

Assad had an exceptional ability to restrain his anger, circling around an issue before striking again — often with calculated patience.

He avoided coarse language, allowing resentments to speak for themselves, but he never forgave those he believed had tried to derail his vision. Among them, according to accounts, were Yasser Arafat, Kamal Jumblatt, Bashir Gemayel, Amine Gemayel, and Samir Geagea.

In dealing with rivals and pressuring opponents, Assad often relied on a trusted enforcer: Abdel Halim Khaddam, his long-time foreign minister and later vice president. In the second part of his interview with Asharq Al-Awsat, former Lebanese President Amine Gemayel said Khaddam was Assad’s “stick,” used to assert control.

Many Lebanese politicians believed Khaddam’s bluntness was not personal, but rather a reflection of an official mandate from his mentor.

Assad rarely issued direct threats. Instead, he preferred subtle intimidation — as when he told Gemayel that his aides had once suggested blowing up President Anwar Sadat’s plane to prevent him from reaching Jerusalem.

Khaddam, the late Syrian strongman’s long-serving envoy, was known for humiliating both allies and foes who dared defy Damascus’ directives. His tactics were often unsettling — deliberately designed to leave visitors unnerved and pliant by the time they reached Assad’s office.

In a conversation in Paris during his retirement, Khaddam defended his hardline methods, saying they were not meant to insult but to prevent potentially dangerous confrontations. “The aim was to avoid escalation that could lead to security agencies taking over, which might have resulted in worse outcomes,” he said.

In the same meeting, Khaddam accused former Lebanese President Amine Gemayel of obstructing a political solution in Lebanon, calling him “hesitant and suspicious.”

He also acknowledged Assad was caught off guard when the Tripartite Agreement collapsed. The Syrian leader, Khaddam said, had not believed anyone in Lebanon would openly defy Syria — or the other Lebanese factions who had signed the accord.

“President Assad had many cards to play. President Sarkis had none,” recalled former Lebanese Foreign Minister Fouad Boutros, reflecting on the stark imbalance between Syria and Lebanon during Elias Sarkis’s presidency.

Assad, he said, had the power to topple or paralyze the Lebanese government before Sarkis even returned to Beirut. “Sarkis had no leverage over Assad,” Boutros noted. “But while Sarkis often showed flexibility, he would stand firm when asked to compromise Lebanon’s core principles.”

Boutros, who played a key role in Lebanon’s diplomacy during the civil war, said he had to exercise utmost restraint to keep Khaddam — Syria’s often abrasive envoy — from derailing talks with personal attacks or inflammatory language.

The dynamic, he suggested, was not unique to Sarkis. It also echoed the later, uneasy relationship between Gemayel and Assad.

Gemayel recalled a cold and confrontational relationship with Khaddam, describing him as “the stick and the poison” used by Assad to pressure Beirut into submission.

“There was no warmth between us from the beginning,” Gemayel told Asharq Al-Awsat.

“Khaddam used underhanded tactics to undermine the presidency and sow division within my team. While President Assad treated me with respect and politeness, he needed someone to apply pressure — and that was Khaddam,” he added.

Gemayel said Khaddam was behind all the pressure campaigns Syria waged against him — all with Assad’s full knowledge. “Assad played the courteous statesman. Khaddam handled the dirty work. Syria wanted me to sign agreements harmful to Lebanon’s interests, and Khaddam was the one tasked with forcing my hand.”

Despite Khaddam’s harsh demeanor, Gemayel said he never allowed him to overstep.

“I kept him in check. He didn’t dare cross the line with me. We were once in a meeting with President Assad, and Khaddam had been spreading ridiculous rumors beforehand. When he spoke up, I turned to Assad and said: ‘Mr. President, we have a problem with Khaddam. Please ask him to stop acting like a spy when dealing with us.’”

Khaddam, Gemayel said, tried to intimidate many Lebanese politicians — but not him.

“He was rude, even insolent to the point of absurdity. But he knew that if he said anything out of line with me, I would respond immediately.”

Assad’s Subtle Control and the Language of Minorities

Assad understood early on the fragility of Lebanon’s sectarian makeup. To him, the country was a meeting place for minorities — one that always needed an external patron to manage its wars and truces. He allowed for limited victories, but never total defeat, ensuring that no side could do without Syria’s oversight.

Assad sought to rule Syria indefinitely, with Lebanon as a backyard extension of his regime. Yet unlike his brother Rifaat, he avoided openly sectarian rhetoric or calls for partition. Rifaat, according to Gemayel, once suggested dividing both Syria and Lebanon along sectarian lines during a conversation with Lebanese leaders Walid Jumblatt and Marwan Hamadeh.

When asked whether he ever felt his dialogue with Assad was, at its core, a conversation between an Alawite and a Maronite, Gemayel replied: “No — that was Rifaat’s language. He used to say minorities must come together and show solidarity. But that narrative was never pushed by President Assad or his inner circle. It was always tailored to serve their own agenda.”

Assad’s political strategy was built on gathering leverage — and minority groups were central to that plan. His ties with Lebanon’s Druze community, and his clash with Druze leader Kamal Jumblatt, fit squarely within this framework. Assad relied on Syria’s own Druze population, as well as the Christian minority, to tighten his grip on the country’s diverse communities and align them under the banner of his regime.

“Assad had a firm hold on the minorities,” Gemayel said, adding that “he brought them all together to make them part of the Syrian system.”

Tensions between Syria’s Alawite leadership and the country’s Sunni majority were well known, Gemayel added, particularly through the candid rhetoric of Assad’s brother, Rifaat.

“Rifaat was open about the hostility between Alawites and Sunnis,” Gemayel said. “In his conversations with us, it was clear. But with President Assad, there was no visible sign of that. What lay beneath the surface, only God knows — but in our dealings with him, we never felt it.”

Gemayel Dismisses Reports of a Syria-Lebanon Confederation Proposal

Asked about longstanding claims that former Lebanese President Camille Chamoun had once proposed a confederation between Lebanon and Syria to Hafez al-Assad, Gemayel was quick to reject the idea.

“That’s absolutely not true,” he said. “President Chamoun would never have made such a proposal. A lot of things were said at the time. There were even reports that US envoy Dean Brown had suggested relocating Lebanon’s Christians to California — all of it nonsense, poetic talk with no grounding in reality.”

Gemayel also addressed one of the most controversial moments in US diplomacy during Lebanon’s 1988 presidential crisis: the phrase reportedly used by US envoy Richard Murphy — “Mikhael Daher or chaos.”

Daher, a Christian MP close to Damascus, had been floated as the only candidate acceptable to both Syria and the United States.

But Washington later distanced itself from the deal. The episode, Gemayel said, underscored a period in which American pressure aligned more with Syrian — and by extension, Israeli — interests, leaving Lebanon’s sovereignty hanging in the balance.

Gemayel confirmed that US envoy Richard Murphy did indeed issue the stark ultimatum in 1988. The phrase, which became emblematic of foreign interference in Lebanon’s presidential crisis, reflected what Gemayel described as Washington’s unwillingness to confront Damascus — despite acknowledging its destabilizing role in Lebanon.

“Yes, Murphy said it,” Gemayel affirmed to Asharq Al-Awsat.

“The Americans had a problem — they wanted Syria, and they didn’t. They knew Syria was playing a destructive role in Lebanon, but they didn’t want to challenge it. They kept trying to find common ground with Syria, not with us.”

According to Gemayel, the US saw Daher — a respected Christian parliamentarian close to Damascus — as a palatable compromise. “They thought Daher was a respectable figure who might be acceptable to the Lebanese, so they went along with Syria’s choice,” he said.

Washington, he added, had consistently prioritized pragmatism over principle in Lebanon, often aligning with whichever side could deliver results — even if it came at Beirut’s expense.

“It was the same with the May 17 Agreement with Israel,” Gemayel said, referring to the short-lived 1983 accord.

“The US couldn't pressure Israel, so Lebanon had to pay. And they couldn’t pressure Syria either — Syria was stubborn, had resources, and they didn’t want a confrontation. So they kept trying to sell us solutions that weren’t in Lebanon’s interest.”

“The Americans were always looking for the quickest deal,” he added. “They wanted to please both Syria and Israel. With Syria, it was clear — they didn’t want to upset Assad, because they knew who held the real power in Lebanon.”

Gemayel said that while he personally held the reins in decision-making and negotiations with Syria during his time in office, several close advisers and intermediaries played essential roles in laying the groundwork for dialogue with Damascus.

“The relationship and final decisions were in my hands,” he told Asharq Al-Awsat.

“I was the one doing the actual negotiating. But when it came to preparation, the late Jean Obeid played a very valuable role. He was intelligent, committed to Lebanon’s interests, and had close ties with the Syrians. He couldn’t get everything done, but he managed to ease certain issues,” said Gemayel.

Gemayel also credited Eli Salem, another aide, for navigating delicate talks with Syrian officials — particularly with Khaddam.

“Salem had a knack for getting through on specific points,” Gemayel said. “He had good chemistry with Khaddam, and that helped, especially since Khaddam and I didn’t get along.”

One figure who unexpectedly played a constructive role, according to Gemayel, was Brigadier General Jamil al-Sayyed, then an intelligence officer stationed in Lebanon’s eastern Bekaa Valley.

“You may be surprised,” he said, “but Jamil al-Sayyed was very helpful. Whenever I was heading to Damascus, I would stop in the Bekaa to meet him. He gave me very precise insights into what was happening at the Syrian presidential palace and the broader picture in Damascus. He was well-informed, sincere, and provided intelligence that wasn’t widely available — information that truly benefited Lebanon.”

Asked whether Syria was uneasy about the role of veteran journalist and diplomat Ghassan Tueni in his administration, Gemayel said the Syrians had little affection for him.

“There was never any warmth toward Ghassan,” he said. “He came with me to Syria just once, and it was clear there was tension. Whenever he was present, things got heated. Ghassan and Khaddam were like a ping-pong match — constantly hitting the ball back and forth.”

The friction, Gemayel explained, stemmed in large part from Tueni’s association with An-Nahar, the Beirut daily he helped lead, which often published sharp criticism of Syria.

“Syria never appreciated An-Nahar,” Gemayel said. “Even if Ghassan tried to distance himself from specific articles, the content was out there for everyone to see — and the Syrians didn’t forget it.”