Orbits: Khartoum… Rising from the Ruins

By; Muawad Mustafa Rashid

I returned to Khartoum after a forced absence of nearly two years, imposed by the war that uprooted us from our soil, just as trees are uprooted, leaving us chasing our homeland in exile, carrying it with us in our bags and hearts, dreaming of returning to it like a prisoner dreams of light.

I left it when it was lush and green, its lush gardens exuding the scent of flowers, jasmine, and orange blossom. Its streets were teeming with life, movement, and youth… everyone came and went, one striving toward a goal, full of hope, and another returning with their heads held high, strutting with joy at an achievement they had completes or a dream they were about to realize.

Khartoum was a city of small and large dreams:
A bride rehearsing her white dress in anticipation of the approaching wedding day, students finishing their exam preparations,
families arranging their projects, decorating the walls of tomorrow with hope.
But there was a devil lurking behind a smokescreen, staring with the eyes of a demon, baring fangs accustomed to devouring the flesh of the innocent.
He was waiting for the signal to set fire and sweep the city into his hell.
I returned to find the traces of the crime:
Destroyed houses, displaced souls, countless wounds,
the remains of demonic corpses, and a land that had absorbed enough gunpowder to silence the flowers.
But Khartoum… insisted on staying: “I am here… I have not died yet.”
I will write, God willing, about the tragedy… about the betrayal that surpassed imagination,
about the effects of the destruction, and about the steadfastness of its people.
I will write about hope… about the challenge that dwells in the eyes,
about the determination to rebuild, and the desire to rise from the ashes.