Far from home, exiled Sudanese journalists risk everything to document the Sudan war the world struggles to keep on its radar

The threat arrived without warning. It was November 2023.

Based in Port Sudan, Rafeeqa*, a journalist in her forties, published an official's statement exactly as it was given to her — word for word — without any editorial comment. Yet, this simple act of journalism made her a target.

“He threatened to file a complaint against me, even though I published his statement as it was,” she recalls, her voice still carrying the weight of disbelief months later.

The second threat came from even higher up the chain — from the Sudanese Sovereignty Council itself, angry at the news coverage on the website where she worked as a correspondent.

Within weeks, the threats became too dangerous to ignore. A single woman with no children, Rafeeqa made the painful decision that thousands of her colleagues across Sudan had already faced: flee or risk everything.

She left her homeland, abandoning part of her family and the familiar rhythms of a career built over decades. Boarding a plane to Kampala with little more than her determination to keep telling Sudan’s story, she began her new life.

Today, she is more committed than ever to her work. Every morning, she establishes what she calls her "daily plan," a methodical approach to monitoring and documenting violations against civilians across Sudan’s war-torn regions.

Through a network of trusted sources still inside the country, she tracks rising cases of malnutrition among children and pregnant women, the spread of cholera, and countless human rights abuses that both sides of Sudan’s brutal conflict would prefer to keep hidden.

A life left behind

Rafeeqa’s story is just one of many in the larger tapestry of journalists exiled since Sudan’s war began in April 2023.

The conflict between the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) has displaced 12.4 million people, with 8.1 million internally and 4 million in neighbouring countries, according to UN figures.

Among them are nearly half of Sudan’s 2,400 union journalists, with an estimated 1,000 losing their jobs entirely.

“I found myself in exile, far from home, from Khartoum,” says Sadiq Dalay, editor-in-chief of Al-Mustaqbal Press newspaper, whose journey to Kampala began when he was arrested by the RSF and continued through a harrowing escape. 

The reference to Khartoum’s famous Sharia Al Jara’ed (Newspapers Street), the heart of Sudan’s press industry, carries particular poignancy for journalists who walked its sidewalks daily.

Sadiq’s exile took a devastating turn when news reached him that his brother had been killed in the conflict. He was thousands of miles away, unable to return for the funeral or to comfort his family.

That moment, he says, crystallised the cruel mathematics of their situation: safety purchased at the cost of everything familiar and dear.

'No story is worth your life'

Today, Uganda has become an unexpected refuge for around 70 Sudanese journalists. 

The reality is complex. Most continue working for local, regional, and international media outlets, but struggle with work permits and living wages in a country where they don’t speak the primary language, and where cultural differences create daily challenges.

“Among the challenges are limited job opportunities, difficult working conditions, and high living costs,” explains journalist Mohamed Said, articulating a frustration shared by many of his colleagues.

The professional challenges are equally daunting.

Ammar Adam describes the fundamental difficulty of their situation: “Among the most prominent challenges I face as a journalist in exile is obtaining information, due to communication service interruptions in Sudan, and the lack of response from official sources.”

Yet, these journalists have found ways to adapt. In July 2024, they established the Association of Sudanese Journalists in Uganda, the first group affiliated with the Sudanese Journalists Syndicate.

The association provides more than just professional support, offering a lifeline of community in a foreign land by organising everything from journalism training workshops to collective breakfasts and mourning tents for colleagues who have lost family members in the war.

Young journalist Nour Jadet embodies both the challenges and the resilience of this community. Despite constant worry for his family inside Sudan, and the absence of familiar safety nets, he maintains a clear-eyed view of his mission.

“No story is worth your life,” he says, citing a fundamental journalistic principle while emphasising the necessity of maintaining “psychological, physical, and professional safety.”

The work itself requires constant innovation. Cut off from traditional reporting methods, these journalists have become masters of remote journalism. They rely heavily on trusted sources inside Sudan, cross-referencing multiple accounts, and carefully verifying social media content before publication.

They’ve learned to navigate the treacherous landscape of wartime reporting, where communication services are regularly interrupted, and sources face real threats for speaking to the media.

“We work very hard to cover news, but not at the required level for Sudan’s war,” admits Mohamed, highlighting a frustration that runs deep among the exile community.

Ultimately, they know that crucial stories remain untold and that the human cost of Sudan’s conflict is being under-documented, as they cannot be there to witness it firsthand.

Stories waiting to be shared

Speaking of what weighs on them, the untold stories heavily burden the journalists' minds, constantly reminding them of the work still left undone. 

Nour points to humanitarian issues that lack coverage and corruption cases that flourish in the chaos of war. Ammar focuses on citizen stories — the daily struggles of ordinary Sudanese trying to survive under impossible circumstances.

“We try to monitor everything related to citizens and their livelihoods,” he explains. “These stories can only be told from outside, which is very difficult.”

Mohamed echoes this concern, pointing to specific tragedies like the Al-Saliha massacre in Omdurman city.

“There are many tragic stories that haven’t been told yet,” says Mohamed, “because they require the kind of field interviews that exile makes impossible.”

Despite these limitations, international support is emerging, with the Thomson Foundation offering programmes for civil society organisations and journalists in conflict zones, focusing on crisis communication, advocacy, resilience, and the disproportionate impact of conflict on women in media and civil society.

'We will continue our mission'

Back in Kampala, Rafeeqa continues her daily routine of monitoring and documenting, gradually adapting to life in a new country while maintaining her professional commitment.

Murtada Ahmed, membership secretary of the Sudanese journalists' association in Uganda, captures the spirit driving this community.

Despite limited resources, they maintain communication with international media institutions and the Sudanese Journalists Union, determined to ensure that Sudan’s story continues to be told.

“We will continue our mission remotely according to what's available,” says Ammar. “We try to monitor and cover accurately, and we work to encourage the fighting parties to adopt the peace option instead of war.”

*All last names in this article are pseudonyms used to protect the individuals’ identities for security reasons

Fath Al-Rahman Hamouda is a Sudanese journalist specialising in political journalism and covering the impact of conflict

This article is published in collaboration with Egab