I Am The Sudan Revolution

Let me start my story by talking about my friend Hamid.

Hamid is from Sudan.

I met Hamid in September 2017 at Norfolk Center, Bradford. Bright smile, kind face, gentle heart. Everybody likes Hamid: teachers, students, even the store owners along Great Horton Road. He is hardworking, passionate, and intelligent. He bested the submitted dissertations of the Development Studies Departments of all universities in the UK for 2019 and won a prize for it.

Despite all these, Hamid remains humble and modest. Hamid is unassuming and compassionate. He is always there for his friends. He was a pillar of support when I was hospitalized last year even though he was miles away for a trip at The Hague. In the lowest of times, he was there to lend an ear. He is the kind of friend who will hype you up you’d think you can conquer the world.

Hamid could have stayed in London. He could have found a stable job and started a family. Instead, he returned to Sudan. He came back for what he loved the most: his country. I was very worried when I found out that he got detained last April, a day before al-Bashir stepped down. He has been freed since but I still worry about him—now more than ever.

Every day I breathe a sigh of relief whenever I see a post of his on social media. It is the only testament that he is alive. Every day, I am thankful. And every day I am hopeful that we will meet again in a free Sudan.

Mohamed Mattar's friends are not as fortunate as I. Mohamed is a civil engineer. He graduated from Brunel University in London in 2017. Mohamed was shot by the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) last week during a peaceful protest as he was attempting to shield two women from harm. He is 26.

In the midst of Sudan’s brutal crackdown on sit-in protests in Khartoum, young people are dying. Mohamed is not alone. There are a hundred martyrs, perhaps even more, who were killed with him. His friends from all over the world changed their colors to blue. It is Mohamed’s favorite color. #BlueForSudan, they said. It stands for Mohamed, what he fought for, what he died for. It stands for the rest of the martyrs, most of which not older than thirty, who sat on the streets of Khartoum to ask for that one single thing that most of us in the free countries often take for granted: the right to choose.

For more than thirty years, the people of Sudan are shackled under a dictatorship and now they are fighting for the freedom to run their own country. The battle was half-won last April but now the tide has turned. Over a hundred people have been killed last week and that number is expected to rise. Despite this, the protesters remain adamant. They know they are not alone.

As of current, there is a near total internet blackout in Sudan to keep the military's atrocities from reaching mainstream media. With Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates' millions of dollars worth of assistance, the repressive regime is doing its best to snuff out Sudan's calls for democracy.

Perhaps the matters of the Sudanese are nothing but distant wails of misery for most people on this side of the planet, but this is something that I take personally. For Hamid, for Mohamed Mattar, and for the many other young people who are just like them.

In the grander scheme of things, this is not only about the people that I hold dear. It is also about the values and principles that I firmly believe in.

Yes, I am invested in the #SudanUprisings in the same manner that I am invested in every cherished friend that I have. If I turn a blind eye to the suffering of my loved ones, can I even say that I truly loved them?

#IAmTheSudanRevolution