Saturday morning, June 10th
The beginning of the trip was from the West Omdurman (Al-Fatihab) area. I continued to feel my presence in every corner of the house, in every room, bidding farewell with all sadness. I lost hope in everything except God. The comrades and neighbors were still gathered, young and old, men and women, sitting in front of our house between laughter and tears of farewell. I felt that I could not leave this place where I learned how to “live”.
We moved as two families, each individual carrying his own worries and sorrows in his heart, trying to relieve each other’s pain as we passed through the streets of Al-Fatehab, which had lost their joy since the first bullet was fired in the war.
One of the checkpoints stopped us, and the officer asked us: “Where?”
"Civilian."
After a long investigation and everyone's whispered calls, we heard the voice of a superior officer ordering: - “Family, let them sleep.”
This Shikla, and this one is Saliha, Mount Olea, and everyone memorizes the details of the road and the passers-by. Is this goodbye?
We arrived at the first “Al-Alaqah” station, and we said, “Thank God, we have left Omdurman.”
“Our beloved, how many hours until we reach Al-Duwaim?” "About two or three hours." "That's it, we pray the noon prayer and move on."
Between stories and anecdotes, we occupied ourselves a little, but the road was still long. We were exhausted, and the further we traveled, the more our chests tightened and our longing to return became. After more than three hours, we finally entered various villages, each village comforting us with its life and peace from afar. The car kept stopping and moving forward, and after more than ten hours of travel, we finally reached Al-Duwaim. We saw her beauty and elegance. After crossing the Duwaim Bridge, we felt comfortable and everyone prayed the evening prayer.
We moved while the world was night, the clouds were gathering and the lightnings were sparkling. We left the main road and entered the canal intersections. Despite the rain and cold, there was no choice but to continue. The atmosphere was frightening and stressful, and the road was closed due to stuck trucks. We had no choice but to stay overnight. Children and women crowded into the seats. As midnight approached, neither eye could sleep.
One... two... time passes slowly. “Oh sun, shine!” The stories and memories ended, and all ambition turned to mere arrival. No matter the circumstances or the difficulty of the road, we were more determined to arrive.
Twenty-four hours later, we finally left White Nile State for the first time. It was a great and beautiful experience despite its difficulties. We entered the state of Al-Jazirah, passing through Al-Manaqil and the beautiful Al-Qurashi market. Here the trip took on a different character and our initial joy and enthusiasm for arriving returned, despite the car’s repeated breakdowns.
Every stop carried a new story, and the most beautiful break was in a small village an hour and a half away from Madani, where we saw its houses and the simplicity of life there.
We kept going... Finally we reached Madani, but it was not what I expected. Where is your calm, civilian? You lost your peace and calm. When we arrived, we were surprised by the crowds and the fear on everyone's faces as darkness fell. We said goodbye to our neighbors who accompanied us and set off on our remaining journey east of the island.
From one village to another, we encountered car breakdowns. We learned the value of stability, the pain of displacement, the fatigue of travel, and our longing and hope for the day of return.
Those days were very difficult and terrifying. Every day was filled with anxiety and fear of attacks and fighting. The nights were filled with the terrifying sounds of shells and bullets. I lived in ignorance and uncertainty about what would happen to me and my loved ones.
The war made me feel isolated and weak; I was suffering from constant fear and instability. But once I was able to escape and reach a safe state, I felt comfortable and safe for the first time in a long time.
Now, I hope the conflict will end and peace will return to my country.
Awab Mesbah is a Sudanese photographer studying at the University of Science and Technology (Business Administration). I started photography in 2015. My experience in photography is that I worked as a photographer with space.sd photographers. I worked as an art director in many artistic works and as a behind-the-scenes photographer, photographing artistic sessions and videography, and participating in documenting the events of the Sudanese revolution. I participated in a group of workshops, including (TOV - THE OTHER VISION) June 2021 on climate and change. Developing personal visual narrative Sudan Visuals 2024 workshop. Workshop on developing documentary and narrative projects and helping to write about documentary projects. First place winner in the Uganda Photography Competition in East Africa with stories.