In the dusty outskirts of Cairo, where the city fades into the desert, the air is thick with sand that clings to the skin and settles into every crack of the worn-down streets, lined with crumbling concrete buildings and the weight of exclusion.
Here, in the western suburb of the Sixth of October City, in an area called Masaken Osman, hundreds of underprivileged Sudanese refugees line up beneath the harsh sun, waiting for food aid — two years after war erupted in their homeland.
Mothers clutch their children tightly, eyes scanning the scene with a mix of hope and exhaustion as the crowd around them roars in despair. The need is urgent, the stress palpable.
In this forgotten corner of the capital, food support isn’t just assistance — it's a lifeline, dignity, and the only relief in a life shaped by displacement.
In the middle of the crowd, doing her best to provide this support, is 26-year-old Rimaz Ibrahim Hassan, a Sudanese refugee who arrived in Egypt in June 2023 and chose to take matters into her own hands.
“When I arrived, I saw that the people who had been here in Egypt for a while were helping the Sudanese who came after the war. I said to myself: 'I’m one of these people too, I also have to help,’” she tells The New Arab.
Egypt is facing a staggering humanitarian challenge as the number of Sudanese fleeing conflict has soared over the past two years.
[Photography by Alejandro Matrán]
According to Christine Beshay, the Head of Communications for UNHCR in the country, since the war broke out in April 2023, “1.5 million Sudanese people entered the country through the borders.”
Over 900,000 have approached UNHCR for registration, reflecting both the scale of the crisis and the growing demand for international protection.
Amid the growing flow of Sudanese refugees into Egypt, uncertainty hangs thick in the air for those fleeing a war that erupted without warning.
Many arrive physically exhausted, mentally shaken, and unsure of what to do next. “It was sudden, this war,” says Rimaz.
The young woman began cooking meals in her own home, using her personal savings to feed newly displaced families. In October 2023, she opened a small school called Mostaqbal Al Moshreq (The Bright Future) — with the help of other community members — offering children in the area courses in English and Quran.
The school soon became more than just a place of learning — it evolved into a community hub where families could receive support navigating the complex process of applying for refugee status with UNHCR and formalising their visa status in Egypt.
Eventually, this initiative evolved into Al Fajr Al Moshreq (Bright Dawn), a project that now also collaborates with organisations outside of the community to provide services of vital support for those arriving in this area of Cairo.
[Photography by Alejandro Matrán]
While some manage to register with the UNHCR, the process has become increasingly delayed due to recent significant funding cuts.
Recognising this gap, Al Fajr Al Moshreq stepped in to provide comprehensive assistance — ranging from medical support and rent aid to psychological counselling and women's empowerment initiatives.
The organisation also offers vocational training for women and youth, including courses in sewing, crafts, driving and helping vulnerable groups integrate into the workforce and regain a sense of purpose.
"With this certificate, if you find an organisation offering jobs, you’re fully qualified, experienced and certified, which gives you employment opportunities," says Rimaz.
However, access to work opportunities varies greatly depending on each migrant’s personal circumstances. For those with disabilities, the impact of displacement is especially severe, often compounding existing challenges and deepening their vulnerability.
Khalda Mohammed Zean, a middle-aged woman, arrived in Egypt in June 2023 after deciding to migrate due to her struggle with epilepsy.
Her treatment was originally being sent to her from Egypt, but when the war disrupted transportation and vehicles could no longer enter Sudan, she was forced to travel to the country to continue receiving the medication she needed. She was completely alone when she entered Egypt because she lost every single member of her family.
Khalda is facing extremely difficult living conditions in Egypt. The job market is harsh, with long hours — often 11 to 12 a day — for very low pay that doesn't cover even the basics like food, water, housing, or medicine.
“I tried doing all kinds of jobs, but they were too demanding for someone with my illness. I couldn't manage. So now, I suffer the most from not having access to employment opportunities and from not getting proper treatment,” she shares with The New Arab.
“At one point, the UNHCR wouldn’t provide me with the medication I needed because it was expensive. Only after a lot of complaints did they give it to me. But now, the organisation Cáritas has ended its contract with the UNHCR, so I face new difficulties in accessing my treatment,” she says, her face marked by pain.
“I’m now taking alternative medication, and even when I try to contact other organisations, I get no response.”
Khalda now tries to earn a little by working from home offering makeup and beauty services, and sometimes selling goods, but her income is unreliable and minimal — on a good day, she might make 30 to 40 Egyptian pounds (GBP 0.45-0.60), and on others, nothing at all.
Her only consistent support is 750 Egyptian pounds (GBP 11.18) in monthly food aid from the World Food Programme.
Because of this, she is now behind on rent and at risk of eviction, with no medical support to help her regain the strength needed to work regularly and a lack of financial resources to start her own business.
However, for other more privileged Sudanese, circumstances look a bit different.
Youssef Yehya is a young entrepreneur who founded Savannah Innovation Labs in 2018 after witnessing the entrepreneurial struggles in Sudan — a platform that connects local talent with global expertise and resources — with the intent of transforming communities and economies through innovation.
“The onset of the war in Sudan in April 2023 forced many of us, including myself, to relocate. This disruptive period necessitated a swift rethinking of our operational model at Savannah Innovation Labs, so we pivoted to digital platforms, intensified our remote mentoring efforts, and restructured our programs to continue supporting displaced entrepreneurs,” says the young man.
“This experience deepened my commitment to our mission of fostering resilience and innovation in the face of adversity.”
Through tailored mentorship, funding access, and strategic partnerships Savannah helps bridge local challenges with international opportunities.
In Egypt, this commitment extends to Sudanese migrants and refugees through a partnership with Entlaq, a research-driven initiative that explores the migrant experience, analyses policy barriers, and advocates for reforms in work permits, licensing, and financial inclusion.
The collaboration aims to inform policymakers and institutions with practical, actionable insights that help integrate informal ventures into the formal economy.
“Sudanese entrepreneurs in Egypt frequently grapple with complex bureaucratic hurdles, ranging from prolonged registration processes to licensing uncertainties,” he says.
“The Entlaq partnership paved the way to set up a dedicated support unit that works directly with legal advisers and governmental agencies. This team provides step-by-step guidance to overcome these obstacles, ensuring entrepreneurs can achieve full legal compliance and operate their ventures sustainably.”
Savannah’s work emphasises support for micro-businesses and startups with high potential to transform key sectors like technology, agriculture, and logistics.
“Despite formidable challenges, Sudanese entrepreneurs have consistently demonstrated remarkable ingenuity and resilience,” he says.
“Many have pivoted rapidly to address immediate community needs, from creating digital marketplaces for essential goods to developing innovative logistics solutions tailored for crisis scenarios.”
Of those registered with the UNCHR in Egypt since the war began, 96% are Sudanese nationals — mostly women, children, and elders — fleeing from Khartoum and other cities devastated by fighting.
“The very first wave was mostly women and children because of the visa arrangements,” Christine explains, referencing Egypt’s Four Freedoms Agreement, which allowed certain Sudanese nationals to enter without visas. Adult men, by contrast, faced stricter entry requirements, leaving many families separated at the border.
Increasingly, children are arriving unaccompanied or without legal guardians. “They left with grandparents, cousins, or neighbours — whoever could get out took the children with them.”
This latest wave of displacement differs sharply from previous refugee movements in Egypt.
“The education background is different, the social class is different,” Christine notes. “It’s not of a tribal nature as it used to be before. Now it’s just all over Sudan — people from all walks of life.”
As a result, the needs are more complex and widespread. But even as the number of people seeking help has tripled, UNHCR’s funding has not.
“We used to receive $50 million for 300,000 people,” she says. “Now we get less than $50 million for over a million.”
The budget shortfall is compounded by a broader financial downturn.
“One-quarter of our biggest donors are reducing their funds globally,” she says, noting that even the most consistent contributors, like the US, are offering less predictability.
“We don’t have certainty and that affects our planning,” she adds. As funding dries up, services are being scaled back or cut entirely. “If they can’t get it from us, they can’t get it from Save the Children or CARE. They just can’t get it.”
The lack of support has also created a host of challenges for Rimaz’s initiative, which relies heavily on donations and partnerships with international entities.
“Some people came with gunshot wounds or injuries from war-related accidents,” she said. “Honestly, we haven’t received enough support to cover surgeries or provide monthly medications. We still haven’t found the right organisations for that.”
Recent news of the liberation of Khartoum sparked mixed feelings among the residents of this area and other mainly Sudanese-populated neighbourhoods in Cairo. The majority are still sceptical about whether to return back, but some have already headed to the southern border to return back home.
For Christine, returns to Sudan, however, remain off the table for now.
“Any return must be safe, voluntary, and dignified.” A no-return advisory issued in May 2023 remains in effect. “Most refugees want to go home when it’s safe, but the situation is still volatile. We don’t know if it’s conducive enough for mass returns,” she adds.
Rimaz is also cautious about the prospect of returning to Sudan, despite some signs of change on the ground.
“Visible changes are happening in Sudan,” she says. “But that doesn’t mean safety, stability, and peace are fully back yet," she explains.
“Sudan is finished. It’s destroyed. There’s no house, no structure, no money, no gold — nothing. We have nothing there. There is no safety or peace, not in the near future. I don’t have any hope of returning. Everything we had is gone. There’s no hope,” Khalda adds.
“And Egypt has no future for us," she continues. "You can benefit from taking courses or training here, but as a place to settle, I don’t see it. Even if you want to start a project, the competition is intense, and the local market is already full. So, Egypt isn’t for long-term stability — it’s more like a stopover, but not a place to build a future.”
Alejandro Matrán is a journalist, actor, and musician. He is also the founder of @thenewmidd
Follow him on X: @AlejandroMatran
Javier Jennings Mozo is an audio-visual freelance journalist based in Cairo who specialises in social issues. He has previously covered the Balkans and Spain
Follow him on X: @javierjenningsm