It’s 15 April 2023. The holy month of Ramadan has just started. Nadia found herself huddled with her son and daughter in her apartment in Khartoum. Seeking solace from what seemed to be a storm looming outside, Nadia was preparing suhoor, the pre-fasting meal that Muslims eat before sunrise.
As rain pattered against the window, Nadia's ears caught a different sound—a commotion, men's voices mingling with the elements. Peering out, she was met with a scene straight from a nightmare; troops clashed with others, turning the neighbourhood into a battleground. Panic surged through her veins as sounds of gunfire replaced raindrops.
Nadia ushered her children to safety, seeking refuge in the bathroom. Communication cut off, followed by the silence of water pipes running dry. Nadia's apartment became a sanctuary of uncertainty.
"Maybe it's just gangs fighting," Nadia's mind grasped at the fragile hope of denial, seeking solace in the mundane explanations for the chaos engulfing her neighbourhood. “Perhaps it was a small protest turned violent,” a brief flare-up of tensions in a city simmering with unrest.
But deep down, she knew the truth was far graver. As the echoes of gunfire reverberated through the streets, she was forced to confront the truth—this was no ordinary skirmish. It was the beginning of a nightmare.
She opened her apartment door to find her neighbour hastily fleeing her own home, with three words of advice;